At long last, I’ve completed my Shitennou rock collection! Finding rough, unpolished pieces of all four in approximately similar size was a fun challenge. Now to find them a glass box like Mamoru’s!
YES!!!!! These are really nice. Nicer than mine, I must concede. I’ve also been reminded that I need to find a blue tanzanite to replace my cheater rubies-in-zoisite rock. Zoi would not be pleased with such shoddy representation.
Rationale: Everyone would die for Claire. Frequently in over her head, but she persists and triumphs. Her specialty is (gourmet) junk food. Iconic hair.
Molly Baz as Makoto
Rationale: Extremely passionate about cooking. Fun personality. Will absolutely fight you.
That one post about unfinished fanfic and whether authors think about the fics they’ve abadoned is such a mood because yes. We do. We absolutely think about them all the time and a little bit of our soul gets torn apart every time we remember how long it’s been since it updated but we just can’t abandon the idea that some day, SOME day, we’ll come back and pick it up again
Four King Hell was a Sailor Moon webcomic I started in 2009 when I was 17 set 2 years after Stars and very very loosely focused on the SenShi pairings. It chugged along until what looked like its final hiatus in 2013. I always wanted to keep doing it. I got messages about it pretty frequently, from people who had just found it or from people who had followed it since day one.
But it sucked. It really, really sucked. It can be difficult to talk about your early projects, because even if you don’t like them now they can still mean a lot to people, but I wasn’t proud of it any more. The art wasn’t great, but it was the writing I couldn’t reconcile with. I couldn’t think of a way to move forward with the comic unless I went back and fixed the entire thing. So I did.
All existing pages have been rewritten, some with touched-up art. The comic is now 6 pages shorter as irrelevant pages have been combined or trimmed, but three NEW pages have been added in exchange for a total of 167 pages. Each page is also transcribed with alt text for anyone using a screenreader.
If you’ve never heard of Four King Hell before, it’s silly and rough going, especially at the start, but you might like it. In August of this year, the comic will be turning 10. I never thought I would be working on a fan comic for this long but I am. And I’m happy to. The plan is to update Mondays (and this time, I have a real-comic-artist buffer to help!)
Me: Has a really dumb idea and proceeds to go on a 3-day sleepless weekend writing binge ultimately turning out 50,000 words over seven chapters.
Also Me: Has a GREAT idea and spends nine months writing a single scene, finishing the final paragraph during an agonizing 12-hour death march of flipping back and forth between Word and unrelated YouTube videos and subreddits in a desperate attempt to distract from what a hack I’ve become.
APOLLO 17 LUNAR SURFACE JOURNAL
December 12, 1972
Third (Final) EVA
Astronauts: Eugene Cernan, Harrison “Jack” Schmitt
Mission Control: Robert Parker
Apollo 17 was NASA’s final manned mission to the Moon as of 2018. On December 12, 1972 astronauts Gene Cernan and Jack Schmitt drove their lunar excursion module through the Taurus-Littrow valley on their final EVA mission to collect geological samples and take readings of the Lunar surface. Their journey took them to the far eastern edge of Mare Serenitatis...
166:02:33 Cernan: Man, this is still a slope. Jack, I'm going to pull around and in the front of the way you're facing.
166:02:43 Schmitt: I can go down...There's a crater over here, (garbled). (Pause) Oh, there you are.
166:02:53 Cernan: This is much better. How is this?
166:02:56 Schmitt: That's great.
166:02:59 Cernan: We ought to be able to pick up lots of those fragments out in that field out there.
166:03:06 Schmitt: Be right with you.
166:03:07 Cernan: Okay. (Pause) Bob, I just came downslope reading 193/3.1; just about 100 meters to pick up Jack.
166:03:18 Parker: Okay, copy that.
166:03:22 Schmitt: Okay. Bag 48 Yankee has a sample of about a one-third-meter boulder that was lying in...that's sitting right smack dab in a little crater of it's own.
166:03:44 Parker: Copy that.
166:03:45 Cernan: Oh, Jack!
166:03:46 Schmitt: What?
166:03:47 Cernan: Oh, you just kicked a snowstorm of dust across here.
166:03:50 Schmitt: I'm sorry. I just fell, too.
166:03:52 Cernan: Did you? You all right?
166:03:53 Schmitt: Yeah. (garbled) What the hell?
166:03:55 Cernan: What?
166:03:58 Schmitt: Is that... Gene, do you copy?
166:04:00 Cernan: Are you still on the slope?
166:04:08 Schmitt: I’m... (Pause) I’m on the rim... What is this?
166:04:12 Cernan: Yeah. I think, (when) we get (to) some more level spots, I can dust this thing ...
166:04:15 Schmitt: My god... You have to see this.
166:04:18 Cernan: Jack, you’ve got a crater right in front of you.
166:04:31 Schmitt: What am I standing on?
166:04:32 Cernan: You've got to get out. Get up...Out...All the way.
166:04:37 Schmitt: Oh my god...
166:04:38 Cernan: Jack.
166:04:39 Schmitt: It’s a... (Pause) It’s a castle.
166:04:40 Cernan: Say again?
166:04:41 Parker: Please repeat.
166:04:50 Cernan: Okay. Jack, I’ll head your way. The LM’s not gonna like that slope.
166:05:07 Schmitt: It’s ancient... (Pause) It looks (garbled) Ash-colored. Columns.
166:05:21 Cernan: Jack?
166:05:22 Schmitt: Gene, you’ve got to get down here.
166:05:23 Parker: Jack, please confirm. You... You say you see a castle?
166:05:39 Schmitt: Walls... buildings. It’s a city.
166:05:43 Cernan: Control, can we get a stat check on his O2 levels. Might be fall damage.
166:05:44 Schmitt: It’s incredible...
166:05:45 Parker: O2 levels check out. Comms test. Jack, can you hear me?
166:05:49 Cernan: I got them. (Garbled) (Pause) I got the low-gain antenna set. (Long Pause)
166:05:56 Cernan : Hello, Houston. Do you read?
166:05:57 Parker: Roger. We read loud and clear. Jack, can you hear me?
166:06:02 Schmitt: Roger, Houston. It’s just... I can’t explain what I’m seeing.
166:06:04 Parker: Uhh... Gene, how far out is he from the LM?
166:06:10 Cernan: Yeah. Way out there... about 300 meters or so.
166:06:11 Schmitt: We need the cameras. We have to get down there.
166:06:12 Parker: Jack, please respond. You say there’s something that looks like a castle, or a city?
166:06:13 Schmitt: Oh, at least. There’s walls like a medieval city. (Pause) Buildings behind the walls.
166:06:22 Parker: Okay. The sun’s right in your eyes, you’re sure it’s not refractions off the visor?
166:06:31 Schmitt: Negative.
166:06:42 Cernan: You feel like you're on a downslope over there?
166:06:43 Schmitt: Yeah. I feel like you're about ready to spin out downhill any minute.
166:06:46 Cernan: Do you? (Tongue in cheek) I don't feel that at all up here. (Pause) Holy Lord...
166:06:54 Parker: Gene, are you with Jack now?
166:07:00 Cernan: We must be about 200 meters up the slope, looking at that little valley down there, Jack, on the right?
166:07:05 Schmitt: Yeah. Do you see that? (Pause)
166:07:08 Cernan: There’s mortar lines in those blocks. Definitely shaped with tools.
166:07:09 Schmitt: Matter of fact, it looks very much like light mantle, except for these large blocks that are in it.
166:07:12 Cernan: Control, I’m with Jack now. This is unbelievable...
166:07:23 Parker: Okay. Copy that. And you guys may still have your visors up. We can't tell, but you might be better off with them down, if you've forgotten that they're up.
166:07:26 Schmitt: Roger that.
166:07:35 Parker: Gene, what have you got for me?
166:07:39 Cernan: It’s hard to describe, Bob (Pause) Jack’s right, though, it looks like a city.
166:07:41 Parker: A formation that looks like a city?
166:07:42 Cernan: Negative, control. This is a city. It’s about... Two, four kilometers away. Hundreds of buildings. (Pause) Surrounded by a wall.
166:07:43 Schmitt: Hey, wait a minute.
166:07:46 Cernan: Bob, what looks like a castle is sitting right in the middle. It’s destroyed.
166:07:50 Schmitt: Yeah. (Garbled) Jack, what is that?
166:07:52 Parker: We have no reference, Gene. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t on our survey maps.
166:08:12 Cernan: Is that a...
166:08:15 Schmitt: Yep.
166:08:16 Cernan: How is she... How in the hell?
166:08:22 Parker: Okay. We would like to have the...
166:08:23 Schmitt: (Garbled)
166:08:24 Unknown Interference: ETERNITY MAIN SYSTEM ONLINE.
166:08:25 Parker: ... What? Gene, do you copy?
166:08:30 Unknown Interference: CHRONOMETRIC SYNCHRONIZATION ESTABLISHED - SERENITY PROTOCOLS NOT YET ACTIVE
166:08:31 Cernan: Well...
166:08:33 Schmitt: Okay.
166:08:34 Unknown Interference: UNAUTHORIZED PRESENCE DETECTED IN TAURUS QUADRANT
166:08:36 Parker: Gene? Jack? Come in! What is that...
166:08:37 Unknown Interference: INITIATING COUNTERMEASURES AND COGNITIVE REDACTION
While the Apollo 17 mission was ultimately successful, an unexplained void of about 10 minutes exists in the official mission transcripts. Neither the astronauts nor Houston support could recall any irregularities in the mission and the details of the missing audio sections were simply attributed to routine equipment malfunctions.
1. The Phantom Menace had more practical effects than you're willing to admit.
2. Attack of the Clones had one of the greatest moments of fanservice of any film in any genre, period. You legit gasped out loud when Yoda pulled a lightsaber and started bouncing off the walls. Come clean with that shit.
3. Revenge of the Sith is a great movie bogged down by “My Immortal” level dialogue.
4. The original Star Wars is subtitled A New Hope. As much as you want to believe it's some lightning-in-a-bottle piece of standalone cinema magic, it's a retcon. It's part of a much larger franchise. Deal with it.
5. The Empire Strikes Back is a great Star Wars movie, but it's not a great film.
6. Return of the Jedi is the movie fans refer to most often when trying to paint a picture of the "true" versions of their favorite characters.
7. The Force Awakens is a fucking miracle.
8. The Last Jedi didn't destroy your childhood.
9. Rogue One is the best thing Disney has done since purchasing the intellectual property.
10. You're going to see Solo on opening weekend because it's Star Wars. Even those of you who believe The Last Jedi was the death knell of the franchise and you swore off Star Wars movies forever. Don't even try to deny it.
Hello interesting people! As I so boldly declared a few weeks ago, I’m making a not-completely-fictitious effort to finish the first 13-chapter arc of My Four Kings Crystal. You’ll be pleased to know I’m on chapter five of editing the existing eight chapters. My plan right now is to finish the entire arc first before posting anything new so I don’t stall out again and leave readers hanging for another year(s).
However, I thought I’d share this since I’m editing and I found it amusing going back and looking over all the versions of this particular set piece. Chapter One of the original fic involved the Shitennou having an average day at their house and bantering with each other before Kunzite declared their quest to find a Nintento Wii. (This was September of '08.) I kept that general scenario and updated it for Crystal and now in the edit it's gotten some more attention, so I thought it might be fun to take an exhausting, frightened sprint down a memory back alley and see how the scene has evolved over the years. Sounds fun and pretentious as hell, yes?
Today I'm just going to talk about the intro dialogue between Jadeite and Nephrite (up until just after Zoisite makes his entrance) and how it developed, my reasons for the changes I made, and what inspires this nonsense. If enough folks out there think this is a worthy endeavor, I'll slap a big 'ol "Part One" on the header of this post and continue through some other parts of the chapter.
Warning: This is a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong post.
NOW ROLL THAT BEAUTIFUL BEAN FOOTAGE!
M4K Classic
"Jadeite!" thundered an aggravated voice care of a burly man who would have looked more at home on a Viking longboat than in the hallway of a suburban duplex.
Jadeite was unresponsive. His fingers flew wildly over the expanse of an expensive-looking Yamaha keyboard as he tapped out a melody only he could hear through bagel-thick studio headphones. A point-blank cannon shot would've gone unnoticed. Nephrite grabbed the left speaker and snapped it against his companion's head.
"DICK!" Jadeite shouted back and ripped the headphones off in a fury, "These are expensive!" He pawed at his ear, "That hurt!"
"Not half as much as when I take a hot slab of rebar to the side of your skull," Nephrite fired back and whipped a pile of wet clothes at Jadeite that he happened to be holding behind his back.
"What the Christ?" Jadeite stammered, trying to piece together this turn of events.
"You did your wash on Hot again!" Nephrite shouted, furious, "We went over this a dozen times, screw-job, we do all of our laundry on Cold, do you have any idea how much heating oil costs?"
"I wash my whites in warm water on principle." Jadeite replied as he stood up and tried to dry himself off from the soggy laundry.
"I murder thick-headed, blonde-haired fuck-ups on principle, too!" Nephrite shot straight back.
Footsteps pounded down the stairs from the attic on the third floor above Jadeite's room and the door swung open. A third man stuck his head out, topped by coppery blonde hair, much longer than Jadeite's, that had at least two hairbrushes stuck inside it bound up in various knots. He wasn't wearing a shirt and very rarely did when he was inside the house. It was about 3PM and it looked as though he'd just woken up.
"Were you talking to me?" he asked vacantly.
"No, Zoisite. Go back upstairs." Nephrite almost growled; Jadeite raised an eyebrow at Zoisite's intrusion.
Zoisite stood leaning out the doorway for a moment before rolling his eyes and mouthing, "Fuck you guys." The door slammed behind him, followed by footsteps, followed by whispered swearing…
Ahh... the original is always best as they do say. Unfortunately in this case I don’t agree. For as funny as this interaction is, it’s a little too funny. Now, M4K was originally a crack!fic as we know, but the dirty rotten truth of it is that this didn’t come out of nowhere. The personalities of the Shitennou were based on my college roommates to a rather large degree. We talked like this, we had these arguments, and we were generally much more crass and vulgar than Nephrite can get at his worst. (You’ll also notice the Shitennou are using their normal canon names, though that will later change.)
So for one I want to talk about the characters and how they evolved and also the overall scene itself and how it went from a full-on crack-fest into a much more reasonable (and safe for network TV) version. To start, let’s talk about Jadeite.
If I had to describe an extrapolation of what a fully developed canon Jadeite might look like I’d say he’d be patient, outgoing, loyal, fairly naive, overzealous, somewhat immature, but generally happy and non-confrontational. Those traits describe a friend who we’ll call Andy to a T. Andy’s idea of a vacation is a Sunday trip to a potato chip factory. He makes terrible, cringe-worthy puns and responds to most jokes at his expense with some variation of “I fucked your mom.” He subsists almost entirely on a diet of cheap candy and beef jerky and stays rake skinny. He once bought himself a pair of boxer shorts with a skulls and crossbones print and declared himself a “bad boy.” You see where I’m going with this...
Jadeite shares a lot of Andy’s traits as well as his hobbies. In the classic version Jadeite is playing an electric piano and practicing for a community theater production of Rent!; Andy is honestly a goddamn amazing piano player. There are other inspirations later in the chapter as well. He also had a penchant for exclaiming “What the Christ?” to most things that perplexed him. And he infuriatingly used all the hot water all the time. But we love Andy because he’s an all-around good guy and so is Jadeite despite some social awkwardness. Beyond Andy this version of Jadeite also takes inspiration from PGSM where he is portrayed as the youngest and most child-like, especially in the Special Act where he goes bouncing around with glee after slaying some clowns. Just... just go search for it...
The Jadeite that developed out of the Classic version was occasionally absent-minded and sometimes made wildly inappropriate innuendo without realizing it. He also delivered utterly useless commentary and seemed occasionally unaware of his surroundings. But he was loyal and mostly innocent as far as the Shitennou’s antics were concerned. The goal was to make him likeable and everyone likes Jadeite, even if they don’t admit it.
Nephrite in Classic is a beast. You’ll notice his dialogue and demeanor in this version is quite a bit more aggressive and violent than what follows. He has always been described as hot headed and quick to anger, but this is an extreme. His primary inspiration comes from the classic Anime rather than PGSM where his anger was played there more for petulance than the self-serving aggressiveness of his Anime counterpart.
In terms of the real world, Nephrite is based on another friend who we’ll call James. James was a nerdy kid in high school, not at all very athletic, and into all sorts of the same video games and pop culture as me. Then he went to college and while he didn’t lose any of those traits, he started playing lacrosse, bulked up, and became kind of the ultimate College Bro. But not the stereotypical shirtless selfie douche bro; think less “Jersey Shore” and more Frank the Tank. James was the undisputed king of the one-liner, able to fire off a string of profanity ridden smack-downs at such a pace you’d think he was channeling a higher power.
Nephrite’s purpose in the Classic fic was simple: talk circles around everyone else. His insults are like punctuation marks and while his dialogue here is relatively straightforward, his run-on insult sentences only get more vicious from here. It should be stated that Nephrite (and my friend James) are not actually seething, violent rage monsters at all. They can definitely throw down when needed, but it’s mostly an act. And it’s a really stupid macho act played mostly for their own amusement. How far can I push this? What topics are off-limits? That sort of thing. Nephrite, like Jadeite, shares some hobbies with their real-life inspiration, in this case the aquarium that shows up later on.
And then we come to Zoisite, the most unique member of the Shitennou. His inspiration from canon is again mostly from the classic Anime, specifically his vanity and clingyness, although that second trait is kind of underplayed in this version of the story. While Zoisite has been shown to be fiercely competent and nefarious in most depictions, the Shitennou of M4K almost treat him like an annoyance, with Nephrite basically dismissing him like a dog. The canon Zoisite would have had a witty retort to being talked down to, but this one struggles for even the simplest shred of dignity.
Zoi’s real-life inspiration is a guy we’ll call Nate. Here’s the thing though: He’s based on the “inner” Nate if that makes any sense. The “outer” Nate is hands-down the funniest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. Our group wouldn’t be the same without him. He’s whip smart, he’s got an encyclopedic knowledge of movie and TV quotes, he can improvise, he’s a physical actor, it’s hilarious. He’s always up for a good time and he’s the life of the party. That’s when he’s with us. When he’s away from us he spends most of his time brooding online, lamenting how much he hates his job, pining over a woman who broke his heart almost a decade ago, and re-blogging depressing quotes and memes.
The M4K Zoisite is someone who always wants to be the center of attention, but for all the wrong reasons. He doesn’t to be the life of the party, he wants pity. He has a giant hole in his life where purpose should be. As reviewers mentioned, it makes sense that he obsesses over things and has episodic mood swings because he doesn’t have Endymion around to focus his attention on. That’s not to say Zoi can’t dish it out when he’s feeling in the zone, it’s just that he usually doesn’t have the fire to fight back, so he’s usually the one in the group getting shit on the most. He’s not incapable, he’s just depressed and lethargic. When Ares the dog enters the story later on you see a marked shift in Zoisite’s personality. Ares remembers Zoi as being one of the most capable of the Shitennou. With that morale boost, suddenly he has something to focus on and he actually starts getting shit sorted. And let’s be honest: The Nephrite/Zoisite banter in M4K is why I wrote this whole damned thing. It’s just so easy for these two to crack wise and spit fire at each other. It writes itself.
So that’s it for the characters. As for the scene itself, it’s meant as an introduction (being Chapter One in Classic) and it’s an explosive start. I’d say it doesn’t do the greatest job at establishing any arch personality traits out of the gate, but this is only a small chunk of the first chapter. Hopefully you’ll see as this evolves that it moves away from a slam-bang intro sequence to a more slice-of-life style scene of character reinforcement. MOVING ON!
M4K Crystal
"Jiro!" thundered a voice which would have sounded more at home on a Viking longboat than in the hallway of a cramped Tokyo apartment.
Jiro was unresponsive. His fingers flew wildly over the keyboard as his mouse hand clicked out a series of staccato rhythms like a telegraph machine having a seizure. The brooding, muscle-bound, armored avatar on the computer screen swung his egregiously over-sized broad sword at the pixelated skeleton in front of him. Flashes of light from some sort of magic spell were accompanied by booming, crackling, swooshing sound effects that poured deafeningly into bagel-thick headphones strapped to the young gamer's head. A point-blank gunshot would've gone unnoticed. The intruder grabbed the left headphone speaker and snapped it against his companion's ear.
"Neil you DICK!" the younger man shouted back and ripped the headphones off in a fury, "These are expensive!" He pawed at his ear, "And that hurt!"
"Not half as much as when I literally turn you upside down by your ankles and shake all the loose change out of your pockets!" Neil fired back and whipped a pile of wet clothes at Jiro that he was holding out of sight behind his back.
"What?!" the younger man stammered, trying to piece together this turn of events while simultaneously attempting to continue his virtual battle against the forces of the undead in his computer game.
"You did your laundry with hot water again!" Neil shouted, furious, "We went over this a dozen times: we do all of our laundry on the cold setting; that's why we have the special detergent! Do you have any idea how much hot water drives up the heating bill?"
"Yeah, about three bucks a month!" Jiro replied as he stood up and shook the soggy laundry away, "It's a small price to pay; everyone knows hot water cleans better."
"Yeah, it'll be better for cleaning the blood off the walls when I'm done with you!" Neil shot straight back.
Footsteps pounded down the stairs from the loft on floor above Jiro's room and the door swung open. A third man stuck his head out topped by coppery blonde hair much longer than Jiro's which currently had at least two hairbrushes stuck inside it bound up in various knots. He wasn't wearing a shirt as was his usual custom inside their shared home, much to his companion's chagrin. It was about 3PM and it looked as though he'd only recently woken up.
"Any chance you gentlemen could keep your riveting conversation to yourselves?" he asked in a tone of voice suggesting whatever activity he was currently engaged in was much too important to be interrupted by their argument.
"Riveting, huh? Maybe a rivet gun is what we need to teach you not to do you laundry with hot water." Neil growled; Jiro raised an eyebrow, "Leave it to Zoisite to come up with the most creative tortures."
"You know you're not supposed to call me that." Zora scowled.
"You're not supposed to be gay." Neil replied evenly.
Zora stood leaning out the doorway for a moment before rolling his eyes and mouthing, "Fuck you guys." The door slammed behind him, followed by footsteps, followed by whispered swearing.
Ok! The first thing you should notice eight years later is that the opening line is mostly the same. I just really like that description of Nephrite’s voice and presence. I removed the “burly” qualifier because at this point Nephrite’s physical description has already been given. For Crystal this whole sequence moved to Chapter Two and everyone is introduced in the New Year’s Eve rooftop scene a chapter earlier instead. I thought it would be nice to follow that whole intro sequence about Kunzite’s recollection of his past lives, death, and rebirth and their sudden re-connection with Mamoru with almost a step back into a normal daily routine for the Shitennou. I’ve also suddenly discovered how to use italics for emphasis. Someone stop me.
Immediately following Nephrite’s intro comes the first major change: Jadeite isn’t playing piano anymore, he’s playing World of Warcraft. Yeah, I don’t name the MMO, but come on... I did this for two reasons: One, because I didn’t think the idea of Jadeite playing piano made much sense. I mean, I guess he could be a musical person, but because PGSM and Crystal seemed to lean on him being the youngest of the Shitennou, I thought I’d give him a more stereotypically “younger” hobby. And I know that’s bullshit because I’m 33 and I’m alt-tabbing between ESO while writing this, but I think it fits especially because it makes Nephrite’s following insults about playing the game flow better than simply ragging on musical theater majors. The second reason I made the change was simply to differentiate these characters more from their real-life inspirations. I wanted to move away from just copying my friend’s actions and behavior and make them more their own entities.
Oh, I should also mention that they now have “human” names: Jiro Aoi, Neil Redford, and Zora Montverde. If the joke isn’t plexiglass levels of transparent, their last names are allusions to the color of their auras. They are intended to hail from their DK-assigned regions as well: Jiro from Japan, Neil from America, and Zora from Switzerland (although his family was Czech & Italian, because of course he has to be complicated).
Neil’s accosting of Jiro is toned down somewhat from smacking him with a piece of rebar to “literally” turning him upside down and shaking the loose change from his pockets. Ties into the complaint about hot water expense. See how we’re learning to build worlds?! When complaining about it Neil is more exasperated than outright furious. He expounds that “That’s why we have the special detergent!” because I wanted to emphasize that these are freaking KNIGHTS FROM A BYGONE AGE OF MAGIC who are dealing with the most mundane shit of all... I toned down almost all of Neil’s dialogue because while I still wanted him to be the loudest and most commanding presence in the story, he wouldn’t have worked in a more serious setting as a walking Tarantino parody.
Zora’s lines are also fairly changed. Instead trying to interject himself into the conversation because he wants to be the center of attention, he condescends and tells his roommates, in so many words, to shut up. It’s more like the established Zoisite we know as a somewhat holier-than-thou figure who can get the job done, even if it requires some backstabbing. Zora is still quite vain since the hairbrush gag hasn’t changed and later on we get detailed descriptions of his wardrobe choices, but now he’s more aloof than attention-seeking.
Rather than dismissing him offhandedly, Neil remarks Zoisite’s cruelty. It pulls double-duty first establishing that this version of the character sees everyone more as an equal, and setting up the idea that their “old” names are not to be used anymore. Neil’s snark about Zora being gay can be taken literally if you want, but it’s not meant to be. It’s a jab, not a statement of fact. Zora’s alignment is... complicated. And rather than struggling for a comeback against a superior foe, his exit is now played more as “I don’t need this” rather than “I can’t do this.”
The major changes between the Classic and Crystal versions were simply to tone down the dialogue to something that a group of decently well-adjusted adults might say to one another as well as shift overall characterizations into a more “serious” tone. And when I say serious I don’t mean the Crystal version is suddenly not a comedy, but it’s more in line with reality than a constant booze-soaked frat house slam-fest. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. (Lookin’ at you, smokingbomber.)
And finally...
M4K Crystal - Edited
"Jiro!" thundered a voice which would have sounded more at home on a Viking longboat than in the hallway of a cramped Tokyo apartment.
Jiro was unresponsive. His fingers flew wildly over the keyboard as his mouse hand clicked out a series of staccato rhythms like a telegraph machine having a seizure. The brooding, muscle-bound, armored avatar on the computer screen swung his egregiously over-sized broad sword at the pixilated skeleton in front of him. Flashes of light from some sort of magic spell were accompanied by booming, crackling, swooshing sound effects that poured deafeningly into bagel-thick headphones strapped to the young gamer's ears. A point-blank gunshot would've gone unnoticed. The intruder grabbed the left headphone speaker and snapped it against his companion's ear.
"Neil you DICK!" the younger man shouted back and ripped the headphones off in a fury, "These are expensive!" He pawed at his ear, "And that hurt!"
"Not half as much as when I beat you down for all the loose change in your pockets!" Neil fired back and whipped a pile of wet clothes at Jiro that he was holding out of sight behind his back.
"What?!" the younger man stammered, trying to piece together this turn of events while simultaneously attempting to continue his virtual battle against the forces of the undead in his computer game.
"You did your laundry with hot water again!" Neil shouted, furious, "We went over this a dozen times: we do all of our laundry on the cold setting; that's why we have the special detergent! Do you have any idea how much hot water drives up the heating bill?"
"Yeah, about three bucks a month!" Jiro replied as he stood up and shook the soggy laundry away, "It's a small price to pay; everyone knows hot water cleans better."
"It’ll be better for cleaning the blood off the walls when I'm done with you!" Neil shot straight back.
Footsteps pounded down the hallway from the room adjacent to Jiro’s and the door swung open. Zora stuck his head in, his hair a tangle of knots and currently occupied by two hairbrushes in varying states of distress. He wasn't wearing a shirt as usual, much to his companion's chagrin. It was about 3PM and it looked as though he'd only recently woken up.
"Any chance you gentlemen could keep your riveting conversation to yourselves?" he asked in his least chivalrous tone.
"Riveting, huh? Maybe a rivet gun is what we need to teach you stop doing your laundry with hot water." Neil growled; Jiro raised an eyebrow, "Leave it to Zoisite to come up with the most creative tortures."
"You know you're not supposed to call me that." Zora scowled.
"You're not supposed to be gay." Neil replied evenly.
Zora stood leaning out the doorway for a moment before rolling his eyes and mouthing, "Fuck you guys." The door slammed behind him, followed by footsteps, followed by whispered swearing.
So there’s not much to say about the edit on the opening few paragraphs (though there is quite a bit more later on), but there are a few noteworthy changes.
First off, one of my absolute biggest pet peeves as a writer is when I don’t catch word duplication. You’ll notice in the first Crystal version that Jiro and Neil both start their sentences “Yeah, about three bucks...” and “Yeah, It’ll be better for...” directly after one another. It immediately tweaked in my brain that I should remove one of the “Yeah’s.” I can’t stand stuff like that, so now you know what sort of minor edits I’m looking for.
The descriptions of Zora changed slightly as well. I just thought the new line about having at least two hairbrushes “in varying states of distress” was objectively funnier than “tangled up in various knots.” I like more vague descriptions and wordplay wherever possible rather than definite declarations. Keeping with that trend, the description of his tone of voice goes from twenty five words in the first draft to only seven words here. In re-reading this story I found a lot of instances where my descriptions go off the rails, like so far out into the land of page-padding that Stephen King is starting to look at me funny. So part of the edit process is going back and cleaning up any of these sorts of overly wordy exposition. Similarly Neil’s threat to Jiro about shaking the loose change from his pockets goes again from twenty five words (I seriously didn’t plan that) down to nineteen. Not as drastic of a change, but it reads a lot better and drops the “literally” which irked me.
There’s also a small edit to Zora’s habit of going shirtless. In the original Crystal draft this was the first mention of this habit and the delivery of the information reflected that. In the edit, it’s established in the first chapter that Zora is often shirtless so I changed it to “as usual” to reflect that.
So there you have it! A glimpse behind the curtain and into the untempered schism that is my brain cage. Did you think this little dissection of my fanfic neuroses was interesting and/or informative? Let me know!
How much do you think the Shittenou's turning coat on Endymion to Beryl's side was strictly due to brainwashing? Do you think its possible both Beryl and Metallia played upon latent jealousies and insecurities hidden within their hearts over their Prince now spending all his time with the Princess of the Moon and possibly neglecting them (and his kingdom) in the process? Do you think Endymion gave the impression of having changed or becoming more distant since beginning his affair with Serenity?
Woah! Questions from the internet! This never happens to me! =)
So with Shitennou switching sides, as far as we know there isn’t a 100% canon answer as to how it happened. In the Manga we see Endymion and the Shitennou arguing about the Moon Kingdom in a flashback. They seem convinced that the Moon is their enemy, that they’re spying on them, and that they have the Earth “under their thumb.”
Endymion says that’s stupid and asks if it was “Her” who put that idea in their heads. It’s not clear which “Her” he’s referring to, but considering that Queen Metalia is still an unknown entity at this point, it’s most likely referring to Beryl. Endymion tries to get them to see that they are being manipulated, but that’s all we get to see of the exchange. In the next panels the present-day Shitennou remember who they are and that they were reborn to find their master. In a later chapter Kunzite remembers seeing Endymion’s death in the past and regrets “choosing to live under the thumb of the creature.” It’s not much, but it’s really the only sort of confirmation we have that they turned against Endymion.
Interestingly, all of this is cut out of Crystal where there is no suggestion that the Shitennou turned against Endymion in the past, only that they were knights who were loyal to him, that they were reborn in the future, but were corrupted by Beryl/Metalia before they could find Mamoru. It makes the parallel between the Senshi & Shitennou even stronger because both groups were basically good and loyal from the beginning, but one group was enslaved by evil before they could fulfill their mission.
As for how Beryl/Metalia fits into this, I think it’s safe to assume it was all Beryl’s doing to get the Shitennou and the rest of the humans on Earth to turn against Endymion and attack the Moon. Metalia just wanted the Silver Crystal’s power for power’s sake. Beryl wanted Endymion, but of course Serenity was all he cared about. It would have been easy to use that forbidden relationship as a wedge to drive between Endymion and his people. The Shitennou would have been caught up in that as well. I think it’s more tragic to assume they made the choice to follow Beryl in the past out of their own free will rather than brainwashing, even though she was obviously manipulating their prejudices and jealousy.
As a side note, the more interesting interpretation for me has always been PGSM’s handling of the situation in which the Shitennou, especially Kunzite, feel like they were the ones who stayed loyal and Endymion betrayed them by choosing to go to the Moon to protect Serenity instead of staying to fight while Beryl and Metalia destroyed the Earth. It’s an interesting reversal in that even when the Shitennou regain their memories, they are all conflicted on what they want to do. Zoisite decides to protect Mamoru, Nephrite gets angry and indecisive, Jadeite decides to continue serving Queen Beryl, and Kunzite wants to murder everything, Mamoru in particular. While I love the Shitennou working as a cohesive unit, this portrayal of friction and shifting allegiances is a lot of fun.
TLDR: I think Beryl manipulated the Shitennou to get what she wanted and pre-existing prejudice against the Moon was an easy sell, but it’s more tragic if they decided to follow her without any sort of brainwashing or magic corruption.
There is a line in the manga that I always took to mean the Shitennou were killed and “revived” with Metalia’s power, which sustains them, upon joining the Dark Kingdom (so they’re basically prettier-than-average zombies). It’s something like “our bodies began to change,” and I think it’s accompanied by the image of the three younger Shitennou’s rotting/melting bodies? But it’s been a long time since I’ve read it. Anyways, is that your interpretation or do you have a different one?
I think that’s definitely an interesting interpretation of that line. We never see how the Shitennou came to join the Dark Kingdom, so the idea that they literally died and were reanimated as corpses is totally possible.
There is a general vibe that the members of the Dark Kingdom are inhuman somehow, and Beryl is of course the most obvious example. The flashbacks in the manga make it clear that the fangs, shoulder horns, and generally monstrous appearance aren’t natural. So it would make sense that the monstrousness extends to the Shitennou, even if it’s not as visible.
Here’s the scene in question:
Both Miss Dream and Kodansha used “bodies” here, so it’s pretty clear they’re being literal. They were physically changed by Metallia somehow.
Though, this scene of Zoisite melting isn’t a flashback. This is happening in the present. They were temporarily brought back to life by the Ginzuishou’s light, regained their memories, and then were reduced to stone.
The Kodansha translation says, “You were changed to stone. You couldn’t take it.”
Personally, I’ve always imagined it as something more subtle that maybe happened over time. I think there’s a particular kind of horror in losing your humanity bit by bit. But there’s certainly room to imagine it however you wish.
I like corrupted but alive better, but I’m still not clear on the rock ghost part. Was it for a punishment? Or was the crystal not strong enough to get them fully back? Saying it wasn’t strong enough sounds weird since it does so many things, but I guess it must have some limits.
Yeah, that’s definitely another ambiguous thing that I don’t think we have a clear answer for.
My interpretation is that their physical forms were too corrupted to be healed by the ginzuishou. Because it wasn’t just that the ginzuishou brought them temporarily back to life and then they reverted back to the same corpses they were before. It brought them back to life, and then they melted away. That melting looks suspiciously like how most of the defeated youma from the Dark KIngdom melt when they’re killed.
I think that’s what Kunzite meant when he said they “couldn’t take it.” The ginzuishou purified the parts of them corrupted by Metallia, but there was too little humanity left to sustain them without it.
I like to think of the stones as something like sailor crystals, and their souls or… I guess essence, is tied to them even after death. And that them becoming ghosts wasn’t so much a punishment as a natural consequence of their bodies being destroyed. But again, there’s so much room for headcanon in here, there’s lots of possible ways to look at it.
My two cents: I think the Shitennou were reborn as 100% human. In the panel right before the “We were enslaved / sold ourselves” line they say that they were reborn to find Endymion, but their memories hadn’t returned. So, when they came across Beryl again it makes sense why they wouldn’t have recognized the danger and “sold themselves” to her and Metalia. Remember that the Shitennou don’t know who the “great ruler” is and they are subordinates to Queen Beryl first. She even promises to revive the fallen members when they obtain the Ginzuishou. (Important later.)
Now, I don’t know if it’s in the manga but I remember a line from Crystal to the effect of “Metalia consumes the energy of people/things and turns them to stone.” If the Shitennou were “powered up” by Metalia, that’s most likely what “changed” their bodies and why they aren’t necessarily identified as human anymore. Even though they were ostensibly working for Metalia, she could at any moment drain them like a battery, melting their bodies away to stone in the process. Since the Shitennou died by forces other than Metalia herself, she didn’t have the opportunity to do this until they were revived by the Ginzuishou. Even though they were alive again with their memories restored, Metalia still had a hold on them, so she called in their energy debt, and they turned to stone.
In chapter 10 when Kunzite confronts Beryl as to why the Shitennou weren’t revived permanently by the Ginzuishou, she says that “They perished before I had a chance to restore their bodies.” To me that means she knows exactly what happened to them (Metalia consumed their energy) but had the ability to break her curse. Of course she could just be lying to maintain Kunzite’s loyalty.
The odd man out in this explanation is of course Kunzite because he too dies via Sailor Senshi, but he turns to stone as well. My theory is that Metalia drained him like the others via Beryl’s super-brainwashing, with his stone appearing on his forehead as evidence. At that point his body is basically just a golem, or something similar to Jadeite’s clay youma, being controlled directly by Beryl/Metalia and Kunzite is effectively already dead.
So guys, here’s the deal... Last week I was on the road for work and living in a boring hotel, so I distracted myself by re-watching all of Sailor Moon Crystal. That provided enough of an inspiration boost that I finished the outline for the full draft of my eternally gestating fanfic “My Four Kings - Crystal.” It will require some minor edits to the eight existing chapters to bring it up to my current standards (some of the exposition is too wordy and I had an idea for a MacGuffin that I want to incorporate for the first 13-chapter “arc”) but I’m now happy with what the finished product could be.
My goal is to get the first “arc” completed as soon as possible. I’m not promising a date, but considering I only have five chapters to write (and the fact that I’ll be traveling again for at least the next two weeks) I’d be optimistic that it shouldn't take me another three years. The second arc, however, hoo-boy, it’s gonna be a BEAR...
Just a few tidbits to look forward to:
Drunken astral projection
Mysterious silent ninja Sailor Pluto
A bar fight
OC villain with some fairly deep ties to Sailor Moon mythology
This is the second arc villain, who is not the same character as the barely-developed final boss of the Classic version.
I haven’t completely worked out this character’s personality yet and giving away the name would be a spoiler of sorts, but I’m VERY happy with how neatly it ties into existing lore.
There’s an element of a dead-beaten-horse fanon trope here that I'm going to turn completely on its head.
Not an incarnation of Chaos.
The Darkening of Valinor Elysion
Origin of the Shitennou
Other cool stuff and expected banter
So yeah, it might take between quarter and half-decades for me to make any progress on my goddamned projects, but I am still working on them! I’ll try to get the ball rolling on this next week and as always, I hope you still, and always will, dig it.
Hi! So, I wrote a thing here, and before anyone gets too overly enthusiastic for a new project, remember that it’s been like three years since I last wrote a STILL UNFINISHED EVEN THOUGH YOU PROMISED YOU’D FINISH IT fic, so don’t expect weekly or even monthly updates to this story. This is going to be a “as the mood descends” sort of update schedule.
I had a sudden burst of inspiration after playing some Ultima IV (yes, the old DOS game, I’m building a retro gaming PC) and decided I’d write a prologue to a SilMil-era story involving an immature teenage Endymion and those wacky pastel knights based around the eight virtues of the Avatar from the Ultima series. I envision this story only being about ten chapters long with each chapter focusing on a specific virtue embodied by one of the Shitennou or another supporting character as young Endymion learns what it takes to be king.
So without further ado, I guess let’s get into this thing! I’m tentatively saying this takes place in the Sailor Moon Crystal universe, even though I don’t plan to have many (if any at all) of the Senshi appearing, but, you know, at least Crystal bothered to give us a little backstory on Endymion and his Knights, so yeah... We’ll go with that. ENJOY!
PROLOGUE - The King’s Forest, Earth’s Golden Kingdom
The prince crept low across the forest floor keeping as quiet as he could despite the shuffle and crunch of undergrowth. One hand held a spear, perfectly weighted for throwing, while the other was splayed in the open air to help keep balance. The air was cool, barely a breeze, and the rays of the sun were little more than occasional streaks of golden tinsel through the thick canopy above, but sweat beaded on his brow and made his grip on the spear clammy as he approached his prey.
The elk stood nearly six feet to the shoulder; an absolutely massive specimen. Its great branching antlers spread to twice the beast’s body width. Endymion grinned in eager anticipation at the thought of those massive horns decorating the headboard of his bed (and of all the lovely young courtesans who would sigh with delight beneath their shadow as he regaled them with the story of the glorious hunt). He thought of how kingly the creature’s tanned hide would look hanging in the great hall, perhaps with a small dedication plaque attesting to the masterful skill of the hunter-prince who took the animal. He thought of the legendary feast the elk’s meat would provide: the best and most beautiful of the Golden Kingdom’s elite all gathered around the table —Endymion’s table— to bask in his majesty, all of them offering him tribute, adulation, and (especially in the case of those lovely young courtesans) love.
A crack rang through the forest so loud it might as well have been an explosion of an alchemist’s black powder. The elk tensed and its humongous horned head twitched in the prince’s direction. Thankfully he and the rest of the hunting party were shielded from the animal’s view by the hulking trunk of a fallen tree. Endymion turned slowly, seething with rage. He identified the soldier immediately in the dozen-strong group accompanying him by the look of sheer terror on his face and the brittle branch split under his boot.
“It’s unwise to anger a prince who has a spear in his hand.” Endymion whispered with a derisive sneer, “Crossbows ready.”
“Crossbows again, sire?” the captain of his personal guard asked plaintively, “Isn’t that a bit… unsportsmanlike?”
Endymion had to resist the urge to howl his frustration at the top of his lungs. “Spear.” He emphasized his anger by deftly, soundlessly spinning the weapon to point at the soldier, “Now get them up. I will not lose this kill.”
The captain nodded, slung his crossbow from the strap on his back, and resignedly began to wind back the wire as the other dozen soldiers did the same. Endymion stared at him a moment longer; this new guard captain was supposed to be different from the others, but it was all the same: “unsportsmanlike” this and “impropriety” that… He was nearly sixteen now, practically a grown man! He decided to have a chat with his father when he returned to the palace with his prize and demand to choose his next captain personally. How could they be loyal to Endymion when they’re too busy being loyal to the King?
As the soldiers nocked their bolts Endymion turned, almost hoping that he’d see empty forest where his trophy kill had been standing, just so he could berate the soldiers again at full volume, but there it stood: stately, powerful, proud.
“I’m going to approach from the right.” The prince explained, “Stay down behind this log. Use it to steady your shot.”
“I’m sure we won’t need to fire, my prince.” The guard captain said attempting to appeal to Endymion’s ego.
“If you do, I’ll tell father it was you who took the beast.” He smirked back, “I wouldn’t hang for hunting in the King’s woods… What about you?”
Endymion crept away, not needing to look over his shoulder to see the icy sneer of the captain following him. He wouldn’t actually try to get the man killed for breaking the King’s law, but it always paid to remind them how ruthless you could be if you wanted to. And besides, his father would never hang anyone for, well, mostly anything, especially something as trivial as hunting on royal grounds. The King was compassionate, to a fault if Endymion was honest with himself, and he had greatly relaxed many of the more archaic laws and traditions of Old Elysion. Still, he was afraid that his father was being increasingly viewed as a weak ruler. He commanded the most powerful army of the most powerful kingdom on Earth, but what good was all that power if the common people never saw it wielded?
Thoughts of power and expanding the borders of his soon-to-be kingdom were replaced by those more primal as he skirted the edge of the clearing and began to approach the huge, ruddy-coated elk from its hind quarter. Endymion was exceptionally light on his feet, a skill he perfected in youth while sneaking around the palace grounds engaging in all manner of mischief with one of his closest friends, a friend who later became a knight, and most recently, one of his tutors.
Jadeite was several years his senior and though they were still friends, their relationship had become strained. No longer could the excuse of youthful innocence be used to shield them from rebuke of their pranks and follies. Jadeite was a knight now, one of a group of the four most elite soldiers in the kingdom who acted as generals, advisors, and diplomats directly in service to the King. Endymion understood why he and Jadeite couldn’t behave like hooligans anymore, but he still resented him for it. Duty and honor had replaced Jadeite’s once-exuberant sense of fun and frivolity. And his friend’s frequent absence meant he was saddled with the lead weight of his personal guard. The prince reflexively rolled his eyes.
Finally the distance between him and his prize seemed manageable. His stealth served him well and the animal continued to graze blissfully unaware of the stalker’s presence. Endymion’s knuckles rolled and his fingers flexed to bring the spear into the perfect, balanced grip needed to make it fly true. He rose slowly from his crouch, willing the oiled creases in his dark leather pants and jerkin not to squeak as he came to his full height. His eyes trained on the enormous elk as his arm pulled back and the muscles drew tight. He shifted the slightest bit on one foot, bringing him perfectly in line. He blew out a hot, steadying breath then loosed the spear with all his might. His aim was true, the arc perfect. The elk looked up.
A spinning blade of silver light cut through the cool forest air and blasted Endymion’s spear to splinters mere feet from its target. The humming, magical boomerang embedded in a tree to his left and Endymion’s eyes went wide with shock, anger, and sudden horror. He knew exactly what had just happened and who was to blame, but now the elk was fully turned and staring directly at him. A snort escaped its pulsing nostrils.
“Fire!” Endymion hollered, expecting a volley of a dozen crossbow bolts to immediately snap through the air and bring the beast down before it charged him. Nothing came. “Fire you fools!”
“You’re forgetting your lessons, prince.” A deep, pandering voice spoke off to his right. He was relieved, if not still white-hot with rage when the elk turned its attention to the newcomer, “With animals such as these, you must show them no fear.”
Kunzite, his father’s chief advisor, ranking general, and currently Endymion’s least favorite person in the world, stepped into the clearing. He wore his usual attire: a dusty-colored jacket, double-breasted, lined with salmon piping and pants of the same color, epaulettes on his shoulders set with pink ovals of his namesake gemstone, and a broad white cape that trailed down his back to the ground and somehow managed to remain miraculously free of the detritus of the forest floor. He approached the great elk with a hand outstretched, and gently caressed the trunk of its neck.
“Show them no fear.” Kunzite repeated and then, not unkindly, swatted the elk on the rump. The huge animal snorted again and leapt into a run, very nearly skewering Endymion with its massive antlers as it bounded past him and away into the forest. “And you’ll have nothing to fear from them.”
“You could have killed me!” Endymion whirled around snarling at the older man.
“Yes, but I think your father would be rather more upset with your death than the poaching of one of his prized elk.” Kunzite said sternly, but with a nearly undetectable trace of snideness, “And using your personal guard as a hunting party?”
The guard! Endymion’s wrath suddenly spun to the group of traitorous cowards who refused his order to fire. He stomped past Kunzite into the clearing and found the men all standing at full readiness, crossbows up, but bolts unfired. None of them flinched. None of them… blinked? They were frozen completely still, as if nothing but dolls.
“They seem to have been caught up in the moment.” Another voice crooned, this one airy, almost lilting, but filled with just as much power and authority as any of the knights.
“Zoisite.” Endymion grumbled, “Playing your mind games, I see? Release them!”
“That.” Zoisite said from where he now emerged from behind the inanimate guard captain, “Is not a very good idea.”
Zoisite was dressed in the same uniform as Kunzite, only the piping on his jacket and the polished epaulettes attaching his cape were a vibrant green. Unlike Kunzite who wore his long silvery hair loose, Zoisite’s, a tangle of curly copper, was tied with a simple band at the nape of his neck.
Despite the similarity of their uniforms the two were near opposites in presentation. Kunzite was a soldier, formal, and carried himself like one. His reputation as a warrior and commander meant crowds parted like waves against a ship’s hull as he passed. He projected authority merely through his posture. Zoisite on the other hand carried an air of quiet, mysterious confidence; as though his winking green eyes and ethereal movements were meant to convey at all times that he knew something you didn’t. And he was vain, caring much more after his appearance than any of the other knights. One could easily mistake him for some misplaced socialite who charmed and bought his way into the king’s inner circle. However, Endymion knew from experience not to dismiss him as some preening peacock. Of the four knights that made up the King’s council, Zoisite was the most unpredictable and possibly the most dangerous.
“They’re my men.” Endymion seethed, “They’re my personal guard. I command you to release them at once!”
“Well, speaking of commands…” he tried to begin, but Endymion was having none of the stall tactic.
“ZOISITE!”
Zoisite looked to Kunzite who gave a simple, shrugging tilt of his head in response. Zoisite sighed dramatically, whirled his right hand in the air and snapped his fingers. Instantly the spell wore off and the springing clack of a dozen crossbows firing echoed through the woods. Endymion screamed and threw himself prone onto the brambles, dry leaves, and hard ground. The bolts whizzed harmlessly above him and thunked into tree trunks on the other side of the clearing. He heard panicked gasps from the soldiers and a stifled chuckle from his would-be assassin.
“What is wrong with you people?!” Endymion fumed and furiously rose, kicking at the ground and hastily brushing leaves and twigs off his clothes.
“I did try to warn you.” Zoisite pleaded with mock sincerity.
“My prince!” the guard captain finally managed to eke out a choked gasp.
“All of you, back to the palace.” Kunzite ordered as he approached the contingent of guards, “If the king asks, tell him his benevolent son was so happy of your company on this hunt that he gave you the rest of the day off.”
“Y-yes… sir.” The captain stammered and hastily ordered his men to holster their crossbows and head out.
“Hey!” Endymion protested, “You can’t do that! Those are my—“
“Endymion, enough.” Kunzite demanded and spun on him with such speed that his cape twisted around his whole body, “To say we’ve been patient would show such restraint. There’s no word for what we’ve put up with from you these last few months: the truancy from your lessons, your disrespect for your guards and the palace servants, your theft from the royal coffers.” Endymion blinked, surprised at that and Kunzite nodded, “Oh yes, we know. And for what? Fine new clothes? A new blade? Another feather pillow for you to rest your weary brow?”
“You forget who I am.” Endymion said with shame and fear shaking his voice.
“You’re a brat who happens to be the son of my king.” Kunzite told him plainly and Endymion’s mouth hung open in shock, “You have no respect for the laws of the land you will one day govern, you have no respect for the power you will one day wield, and you have no respect for the people you will one day rule.”
“How dare you speak to me like this?!” Endymion was now beside himself with rage, any semblance of fear for Kunzite’s authority evaporated in the heat of his anger, “It’s my kingdom and I’ll do what I want with my power and my wealth and the people will love me! I’ll have your head for—“
Through the fury that was blinding him Endymion never saw Kunzite unclench his fist, draw back, and swing. He only felt the stinging clip and dull, ringing pain as the palm of his hand connected solidly with his mouth and the side of his face. No blood was drawn and barely a sliver of the prince’s oily raven hair knocked out of place, but he may as well have been speared like his long-lost prize elk for the wail he made.
“You think your father would have entrusted us with your training and schooling if he didn’t expect we’d have to discipline you from time to time?” Kunzite asked, not expecting a reply, “Now pull yourself together; we’re going to speak to the king.”
With that he turned and began to walk out of the clearing in the direction of the palace. Endymion lagged were he stood for a moment, dirty and downtrodden, then began following at a distance. Zoisite jogged to Kunzite’s side once he was satisfied the prince was coming.
“Don’t you think that was a little harsh?” Zoisite asked the elder knight.
“No.” Kunzite replied bluntly.
“No. I know you think it wasn’t. I was—“ Zoisite sputtered, frustrated with Kunzite’s occasional inability to read any kind of subtext, “I mean, did you really need to slap him? If he tells his father, you’ll—“
“Are you more worried about what will happen to me, or what will happen to him if he becomes a king with no respect for his kingdom?” Kunzite asked nodding over his shoulder at the young prince trailing far out of earshot behind them.
“I just don’t think we should be the ones disciplining him like this.” Zoisite confided, “The king asked us to teach him art and science; to train him how to hold a sword, how to arbitrate a mining contract, how to draw up a peace treaty, not… raise his son for him.”
Kunzite’s shoulders drooped only slightly as they continued their way through the dense foliage, briars and thorns now finally starting to cling to the pristine hem of his cape.
“To me it’s the same duty.” Kunzite told his companion, “The king has been… distracted these last several years, what with the Silver Millennium exerting its influence to the other worlds, the trade disputes, not to mention the rebels on our borders. And since his mother died…” He didn’t want to make excuses for the lapse in Endymion’s discipline, but it truly was a chaotic time in their kingdom, and the loss of his beloved queen was a wound in Endymion’s father that would never fully heal, “I know the king doesn’t mean to seem so distant from his son, but I know the stress he’s under just trying to hold the kingdom together.”
“Yes, but I still feel wrong about it.” Zoisite confessed and chewed the skin on the back of his thumb, a nervous habit Kunzite secretly hated, “Who’s to say we’re not shaping him into the king that we want, rather than the one he’s meant to be?”
“They’re one in the same.” Kunzite philosophized, “We took oaths to uphold certain values, the virtues that this kingdom is built upon. I can’t consider that we would ever have a king who doesn’t embody all of those virtues.” He sighed again, trying not to look over his shoulder at the pouting teenager bringing up the rear of the trail, “And if Endymion can’t learn those lessons from us, he’ll have to learn it from life. He needs to know consequences.”
“You’ve already spoken to the king?” Zoisite asked, less a question than an inference.
“Yes.”
Zoisite blew out his breath and said, “If he’s willing to make such a drastic change…”
“It won’t come to that.” Kunzite assured the other knight.
“But what if it does?” he replied, “I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”
“Then we’ll replace you.” Kunzite said dryly.
“You’re utterly impossible sometimes.” Zoisite dismissed him with a roll of his eyes.
The two knights and their tarrying prince emerged from the forest a few minutes later and skirted the edge of the huge emerald fields surrounding the capital until they picked up an actual trail and eventually a twin-rutted wagon road leading into the walled city proper. Kunzite purposely tried to navigate them down less trafficked side streets and alleys, but eventually there was no avoiding the main thoroughfare.
Out of the cool shade of the forest the day was warm, bustling, and beautiful, as were most days in the Golden Kingdom. The small group avoided as much of the merchant quarter as possible, but there were still crowds choking the cobblestone byways as citizens made their rounds through the white stone city. Every occasional guard patrol they passed saluted crisply, drawing even more attention that Kunzite did not want. Men bowed and women curtsied as they made their way past the palace’s outer gate into the courtyard, mercifully free of major delay or distraction. They passed between twin fountains ringed by half-circles of polished white columns, through the second gate into the immaculately maintained rose gardens and low, shaped hedges, and finally up the stairs to the palace doors. Gold leaf adorned carved reliefs down both lengths of the outer walls and the tall arched dome at the palace summit gleamed like a second sun in the bright morning light.
Inside diplomats, legislators, representatives and all their various aides and secretaries milled about the halls discussing and conducting the business of running the kingdom. A tariff on luxury imports from Venus was a current issue, as was allocating more funding for an aqueduct project in the western corner of the kingdom. Kunzite had little use for politics and, despite his off-handed dismissal of Zoisite’s concerns, he too shared his apprehension for what might be about to happen…
They found the king in the great hall which sat just below the dome in the center of the palace and was filled with warm light reflected off its gilded surface. Another delegation was just leaving as Kunzite, Zoisite, and Endymion approached. The knight’s boots clacked loudly against the polished white tiles and inlaid grout lines of gold, red, and blue marble. Kunzite nodded to the two men who stood off to the left of the king’s chair, for it was far too simple and unembellished to be called a throne, and Jadeite and Nephrite nodded back. The two knights were dressed the same as their compatriots, but with accents of blue and red respectively. Zoisite joined them at the king’s side and Kunzite approached the monarch and bowed.
“My king.” Kunzite said, his voice hushed and reverent.
“Rise, my friend.” The king answered in a warm, but timeworn voice, “Endymion, step forward.”
With only a moment’s hesitation Endymion shuffled forward, his eyes still downturned. His hands fiddled with a button on his jerkin that had come unsewn at some point during his ill-fated hunt. Knowing his father wouldn’t speak until he matched his gaze and not wanting to drag out his humiliation any longer, Endymion steeled himself and looked up. He regretted it almost immediately.
King Aeolus was an imposing man on the best of days, but today as he stood there under the gleaming light of the palace dome, dressed in his regal finery of a black and silver brigandine version of his knight’s uniforms with golden epaulettes, but with armored appointments of greaves, pauldrons, and faulds, a black cape lined with scarlet satin, and a ceremonial long sword belted to his thigh, he looked more the part of a marauding warlord of old rather than the benign monarch of this peaceful kingdom. His hair was black like his son’s, but longer and less wild, with white in the temples and streaks of gray throughout. He wore a close-shaved beard and mustache, and his piercing night blue eyes stared down at Endymion with an unsettling mixture of anger, disapproval, and love.
“Father,” Endymion started first hoping the sudden loss of whatever confidence he thought he had mustered wouldn’t show too plainly in his quavering voice, “I can explain.”
“I need no excuses.” The king replied and raised a hand to silence him, “Perhaps it was to be expected.” He shook his head and began to pace back and forth along the low dais where his chair sat, “This is my fault. I’ve lost sight of so much since she…” the words died in a choked gurgle, still so hard after all this time to say, “… since your mother passed on.”
Tears welled, but Endymion swallowed them down. He barely had time to know his mother, who had died when he was still quite young. He had trouble remembering her face without one of the many portraits in the palace to remind him, but the feeling of her presence and the love she radiated were still fresh and clear in his mind. Whatever gulf had separated them over the years, he and his father will forever bound together by that love, and their shared grief.
“But I had hoped that with the lessons and guidance from my trusted knights –your friends, as you’ve so often called them, some even from childhood– that you would come to understand the great burden that you will one day bear in leading our people.” Aeolus continued.
“I had hoped that by now you would have shown me the good sense and spiritual fortitude needed to lead this kingdom; to be a prince whose people know and trust him, who speak in the markets and in the taverns of what a fine, upstanding young man he’s become and how they feel safe knowing the crown will pass to him one day.”
“Father…” Endymion tried to interject.
“Instead I find you’re frittering your time away with venial pleasures.” The king almost spat, his voice rising in timbre with his anger, “Plundering the palace coffers to buy clothes and trinkets. Gambling. Drinking. Holding unsanctioned tournaments for your own amusement.”
“I fight in the tourneys, father.” Endymion could not help himself, “And I win. The people love me!”
“You win because you’re the Crown Prince!” The king shot back, “You may be skilled with the weapons of war, Endymion, but do you really think there’s a man or woman in this entire kingdom who would willingly strike you?”
For a second Kunzite’s blood ran cold. Slapping Endymion was calculated, not reactionary at all. Kunzite was calm under any pressure and would never allow himself to react rashly or on reflex alone. Still, as Zoisite worried it might have been a bridge too far. He was sure Aeolus would understand given the circumstances, but as the king just pointed out, striking the Crown Prince was just something you didn’t do. Surprisingly, Endymion said nothing about the incident, obviously too conflicted by his father’s dressing down to recall.
“Endymion, there is more to being a king than simply spending our gold, holding tournaments, and hunting for trophies that enrich none but yourself.” The king explained, “We’re in a critical moment of our history right now. The Silver Millennium is—“
“If those Moon creatures ever tried to enforce their will on us, our armies would paint their silver cities red!” Endymion hollered.
Aghast, the king took a step back and heaved a weary sigh. Had She been whispering in his son’s ear? No time to dwell on it now.
“Even now you prove my doubts. You’re not ready to lead this kingdom.” He cast a furtive glance to the four men standing at attention beside him, “I don’t know if you ever will be.”
“I am ready.” Endymion, suddenly emboldened declared, “You’re just scared that I’m not going to be exactly like you. I’m going to use my power so every world, the Moon included, respects our sovereign authority. I’ll take what we deserve. I’ll make sure everyone in the kingdom knows that we’re strong, and that we won’t back down when challenged!”
“Endymion, I don’t want you to be like me.” Aeolus pleaded, “I want you to be better than me. I want you to lead our people to new heights, not remain where we are, safe but stagnant. But you can’t be a war-monger or a dictator to do it!” He shrugged and looked to the sky, the golden rays of sunlight piercing through the dome nearly blinding him, “I want you to be the man your mother would have wanted you to be: compassionate, caring, stern but forgiving. Loving.”
“Well maybe if you taught me how to be those things, you’d have a son you could be proud of.” Endymion pouted.
“I am proud of you, son.” The king told him honestly, “You’re strong, skilled, intelligent… but you have no sense of the world, because you’ve never lived in it. This palace has been your home, but also your prison. I see that now.”
“Prison?” Endymion scoffed, “What crime put me here?”
“The crime of blood.” Aeolus answered, “The crime of royalty. But now, there will be a parole. Kunzite.”
The white-haired knight stepped forward and produced a leather satchel in the shape of a tube. He undid the clasp on one end and carefully extracted and unrolled a parchment covered in the calligraphic script of a palace scribe and emblazoned with both Aeolus’ royal seal and signature.
“What is this?” Endymion asked. Possibilities assailed him from the mundane of a royal reprimand to the extreme possibility of banishment from the realm.
“A royal decree.” The king explained, “A new law set to take effect upon my death.” His eyes quickly skimmed the document, and he rolled it tight again, “Unless, of course, I destroy it before then.”
He handed the parchment back to Kunzite who dutifully returned it to its holster. Zoisite, outwardly stoic to this point, nervously shifted his gaze between the young prince and the eldest knight.
“The law provides that upon my death, if there is no heir in my bloodline suitable to wear the crown, that the powers of the king shall be transferred to and shared among my council of knights, until such time that a new line of succession can be established by acclamation of the people.” The king explained.
It took a moment for the words to register in Endymion’s mind. He was smart as his father said, but legalese was not his strongest forte.
“You’re…” he clenched his teeth, “Denying me my birthright?”
“Your birthright is a scrap of parchment buried so deep in the royal archives that it will never see the sun.” His father told him and a strange gentleness returned to his voice, “Birth alone cannot determine a man’s worth. I want you to be worthy of the crown, my son, but you need to earn my blessing.”
“Even though you never had to?” the prince fumed.
“Even though I never had to.”
“Fine.” Endymion sighed and slapped his hands together as if in supplication, “What must I do to appease you, my king?”
“Drop the attitude for a start.” Aeolus began as he reclaimed his seat, “And then prepare what supplies you need for a long journey. You must undertake a quest.”
“A quest?” Suddenly Endymion’s entire demeanor shifted, though he fought with his body’s natural reaction to display sudden excitement and anticipation. His mind filled with the heroic stories of knights, princes, and kings of old on far-ranging quests of great valor. Still such a boy, his father thought warmly.
“Far to the south at the very borders of the kingdom there is a mountain.” The king elaborated, “The tallest mountain on Earth; Olympus itself, the legends claim, where the gods who ruled this world once lived. There is something there I’ve long desired and I wish for you to retrieve it.”
“You want me to fetch something for you?” Endymion balked and blinked several times, “What is it?”
“The old stories say that when the gods left the world, what remained of their power collected and hardened into two mighty crystals.” Aeolus continued, “One, a silver crystal, fell to the Moon where it’s said that Queen Serenity discovered it and used its power to build her Silver Millennium. The other, a golden crystal, fell to Earth where it has remained, unclaimed, since time immemorial.”
“There is a power on this Earth to rival the Silver Crystal?” Endymion gawped.
“Not just to rival it, Endymion, to be its equal.” The king elaborated, “You think as many doom-sayers believe that Queen Serenity wishes to impose her will upon us, when in fact the Silver Millennium seeks to insulate us from outside interference. They are merely misguided in their attempts to protect us from the rest of the cosmos, because they believe us too weak or too primitive. To claim the Golden Crystal would prove, not only to the Silver Millennium, but to all the worlds, that the Earth has just as much right to forge its own destiny as they do.”
“If you know where the crystal is, why haven’t we claimed it before now?” Endymion astutely asked.
“Because the journey is treacherous and because no one of such righteous character needed to undertake such a quest has risen to the challenge.” The king explained, “The only person who could even approach the Golden Crystal would need to be a living avatar of the virtues upon which this kingdom is built: honesty in all endeavors, compassion for all creatures, valor in battle, justice without bias, honor without pride, sacrifice, spirituality, and above all, humility.”
“And you think I could rise to such a task?” Endymion almost scoffed, but was strangely enamored by the thought of such confidence being placed in his abilities.
“That is your test, my son.” His father admitted, “For only a man who embodied those virtues could claim the Golden Crystal, and only such a man is worthy to be king.” Aeolus gestured to the four knights at his side, “However, no king is alone in his struggles, and my loyal knights will accompany you on this perilous journey.”
“Extremely perilous, I hope.” Nephrite said with a hardy grin and cracked the knuckles of his broad warrior’s hands.
“We tackled tougher quests than this when we were kids running through the rose gardens.” Jadeite added with a supportive smile.
“We’re with you in this, not as teachers and tutors.” Kunzite began. Zoisite finished, “We’re here as your brothers.”
The prince was suddenly overwhelmed by the outpouring of support and emotion from the men who until recently had been merely talking heads droning on endlessly about etiquette and procedure, or harsh taskmasters doling out training drills and endless exercises. He didn’t deserve their affection or their support. He’d squandered his power, his influence, and his very name. The vision of the mighty elk standing tall and proud in the forest assailed him. Endymion was planning to kill that creature for no reason than his own vanity, and here was his father entrusting him not only with the future of the kingdom and the lives of all its citizens, should he succeed in his task, but with the equal to the greatest power known to exist in the world. His tears fell freely.
“I see greatness in you, my son. It has always been there.” His father reassured him, but added this wisdom, “It’s up to you now whether you will rise and claim that greatness for the good of all, or fall and bring great pain and sorrow to the world.”
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