Machia

Machia awoke. 

All around him were men busy at work. These men surrounding him piled large, even stones upon one another all around him. They wore fettered rags of different variations and conditions, yet gentle smiles could be seen adorning all their faces. The bustle of the men was filled with noise as they jovially yelled and laughed amongst each other.

Machia didn't know anything. Sitting up from inside his cold but comfortable casket. After watching for a short time through some odd deviation, he imitated their smiles. 

Similar rectangular stone caskets littered the floor around him, but he could not ascertain what they held within. The men were exceptionally young. Many were teenagers even. However, Machia had no way to discern this, only recognising his childish figure as being the smallest there. 

It took astoundingly long for one of the workers to finally notice his presence. 

Whilst the others paid him no mind, one youthful man stared with shaky eyes at the smiling Machia. In shock, he dropped the small stone to the floor, narrowly missing his bare feet. He pointed at Machia with visceral concern, garnering the man's attention so suddenly startled Machia. Nervously, Machia again replicated the man's expression as he stared back at him with his own petrified expression.

One by one, the workers halted their duties, turning to stare at Machia with uncertain gazes. Distant murmurs persisted amongst the men until, eventually, silence unfolded in the group. 

"You, You"

The young man pointed at Machia with abhorrent horror. His fear infected the people around them as they unanimously gasped. Some attempted to flee whilst others remained utterly frozen. 

"YOUR ALIVE"

The boy's yell blasted disarray amongst those gathered as they scattered and screamed. Knocking each other over and clamouring past one another, they fled away from the half-constructed building and desperately began climbing the hill. 

Through the significant gaps in the stone structure, Machia saw what was in the direction they ran towards. The castle loomed above all. Its spire sharply pierced the cloudy sky. This image of the hill, castle and screaming men was forever painted into his mind.

Left alone, Machia was directionless. In an act of twisted self-preservation, he began to practice smiling. Then he flipped back to an abject look of fear. This process consoled him and allowed him to forget all the unknown surrounding him. 

Left to his own devices briefly, he suddenly looked up, hearing a noise. He noticed something dark, hidden, watching him from behind a pillar. Recognising it had been detected, it skittered away. Intrigued, Machia stared at where it had stood before he was disturbed by a different noise.

Descending the path towards him was a stout, large man. The man's expression revealed his nervousness. Of course, Machia replicated this face, too. 

The enormous, sturdy man stopped, maintaining a short distance between the two of them. He looked down at Machia from his intimidating height with a guarded expression. After a few moments, a greedy, wretched smile surfaced on his face. 

Turning back, the man announced to the crowd, who watched on from a distance, "I HAVE REVIVED HIM, IT IS THE KING'S MIRACLE."

With a sharp yell, he turned to the crowd behind him, raising his arms in exaggeration. The men looked between each other before letting out an abrupt, half-hearted cheer that maintained a nervous tone.

The king turned away from the crowd with a sheepish look as sweat coated his forehead. He locked his eyes onto Machia with renewed resilience. 

"Do you understand what I am saying?"

Machia tilted his head before a simple smile appeared on his face. 

"Uh, weird, I'll take that as a yes. You will come with me, understood."

Machia listened to those words. He had never heard these words, nor had he ever heard anything like them, but he innately understood. With no other tendency, he chose to comply. His short legs didn't reach the floor, but after a brief hesitation, he landed on the floor. Recognising he was unharmed, he took a step and then one more. Soon, he was standing in front of the sturdily built man. 

With an impressed smile, the man wiped his forehead with a rejuvenated determination.

"I can work with this. You will walk with me. From this day forth... I will be your father, and you will be, my son."

"...Father"

Machia curiously spoke his first word, imitating the method of speech effortlessly.

"Mmm"

A crooked smile appeared on the king's face before he left. Machia followed in his shadow, trying his best to match his giant strides. 

##############

The smiling king often walked a stoic Machia around the many human settlements. A year had passed, and the king had kept himself and Machia in good spirits whilst maintaining a solid grip. Their relationship was strong.

The king would confidently parade around the kingdom, boasting of his progress over the last twenty years of managing the settlements. Supposedly, he was even majorly involved in the construction of every last building, utilising his gravity magic to accomplish all the heavy lifting. It was only the day Machia had awoken that his father had the Blessed delivered to him personally. Up until that point, he had been building his own kingdom from the ground up, much to Machia's amazement. 

The first lesson Machia had learned from his father was independence. The king's teaching methods were harsh. Some involved harsh physical practice despite his mere human capabilities. This then led to more innovative lessons, like leaving Machia in the forest to fend for himself. Thanks to this outlandish task, he had stumbled upon his ability in the forest's depths, enhancing him with strength like no other in the kingdom. However, his memory of the event, was nowhere to be found.

Similarly to his father, he would use his strength to aid his future denizens. But, this did not bring him any joy. Truthfully, he felt remarkably alone. His only friend was his father, and despite his excellent competence, he could only pretend to like his people. In reality, his façade only ended with him alienated further from others.

At night, the king would read one book and one book to him only. Machia had even been named after the author. He would be guided, groomed even into the perfect prince. The idea of being capable, cutthroat, yet kind had been planted deeply within Machia. Whether it be knowing when to appease, how to appease and whom to appease, Machia had earned himself a hollow charisma that far usurped even his teacher. 

But one day, things began to change.

Machia stood idly by the king's throne as they discussed simple matters; he knew what was to come, but nonetheless, he was unprepared.

"Having a reliable, powerful heir by my side is helpful to no end, Machia, though I'm afraid it is likely not enough. They will be your future adversaries, but you will not treat them as such; do not forget your position and I will not mine."

"..."

Machia listened. Despite being a child, he had been raised to control his emotions better than any. He didn't need to be reminded, or so he thought.

The doors swung open. Strutting into view was an elderly man embezzled with bright purples across his robe. He had almost no blatant characteristics that yielded any attention. Even his confident demeanour appeared falsified. His only redeeming trait was those that surrounded him.

His entourage varied in all shapes and sizes. Two giants shadowed the robed man and towered over even the king himself. Their thick black armour and the enormous frightening blades they carried surpassed imagination.

But the one that really drew attention was a female guard who stood with an unnatural, intimidating posture following from the rear. Her presence was such that Machia, with all his strength, couldn't even meet her eyes, forcing him to look at the floor bitterly. 

There were three more peculiar members of the entourage. They shared the same frail build as the old man, so they failed to draw his attention in the same way. However, what surprised him most was the actions of his father.

Without hesitating for a moment, the king stepped down from his throne and cautiously fell to one knee. Machia slowly raised his head and watched his father's weak figure with abject horror. Even though he had known, even though he had been prepared, just this once, he failed to hide behind his mask.

"Dear disciple, I bring bad news."

"My Emperor-"

"Quiet, dog. So you know how to sit yet still bark? Pathetic. It seems in your endless arrogance, you have become a rival."

As the emperor said this, he sent an unrelenting, accusatory glare towards Machia, who remained standing, shadowing his father. The king turned to him from his knees, staring daggers towards him. With great reluctance, Machia fell to one knee behind the king, lowering his head obediently. 

The emperor freed Machia from his gaze only to send a contentious look down at the king. Machia's tense face still remained as he gave an unforgiving gaze towards the cold floor.

"It's clear to me that you have controlled that blessed for your own desires. It's too late now. What has been done in the last year can not be reversed, so I ask again. Are you not my adversary?"

As the emperor said this, his guards, except the women, raised their weapons in preparation. A shadow fell across the king's face before he spoke with a grave tone. 

"I'm yours alone my emperor the blessed is entirely at your disposal as well."

It took only one glance from the king for Machia to understand his role. With a soft, vigorously confident smile, Machia looked up at the king with boundless resolve. 

"My Emporer, my soul and body burn to serve your desires. I, Machia, now bid you my word, life, and endless loyalty in all your supreme majesty. 

The emperor looked taken aback by the sincerity and confidence brimming from Machia's figure and booming voice. It felt all that more legitimate coming from a child who appeared to be only about eight years old. The warriors that accompanied the emperor also shared convinced gazes with each other. The king looked towards Machia with a smug grin. When it came to such things, Machia was the very best.

Despite this silent praise, Machia's turmoil was high. Was he destined to follow in his father's footprints like this? He had been set up to be a puppet since the start? Those insincere promises of royalty, without them, his strength, his effort, did it hold no meaning.

"Out of respect for this display, I shall forgive your transgression my disciple. As a consolation, the next blessed are to be placed directly under my jurisdiction alone, is that clear?"

"Of course my emperor, their education will reflect-"

Interrupting his father's words, the serious, childish face of Machia met the gaze of the Emperor head-on.

"You're highness... it appears another blessed has awoken."