The Lord of Sol, Solomon sat alone in the dead of the night.

The stand at which he sat was of a common sort used to serve drinks after the local working hours.

What was uncommon however was how it yet remained open at this night hour.

This was, of course, all because the Lord bid to ignore the rain pouring down onto the curtains overhead and continued to drink his sorrows away.

Shielded so he was by the roof of the wooden structure, he didn’t fear the falling droplets of water.

Tomorrow, he knew, they would strike, then they would end Julius’ reign over these lands and crown a new regime in his place.

Solomon could hardly get his bearings for such a thought, and so here he was, in this late hour, in the pitch, unyielding, rain.

He was not a treacherous man by nature, he didn’t know how to truly rationalise what he was doing.

Necessary evil? Perhaps. No choice? That was a fair point, all bunk, however, as far as his conscience was concerned.

“Thought I’d find you around here,” Said his long time brother in arms, the Lord of Luna, Arcadias, as he walked under a parasol and passed into the shade of the establishment's protective curtains.

The two men locked eyes, and then, with a wizened huff, the Lord of Luna took a seat beside his old comrade’s own.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked as with a gesture he ordered a stiff wine passed over.

The clerk was less than amused to find his guests had gone up a number, however, and Arcadias did not let the notice slip.

With a wave of the hand, he placed down a sum that was ungodly to the eye of the bereaved man before him, and then the clerk’s mood turned bright.

“Arc,” Said Solomon, as the pair waited for Arcadias' drink to be served up, “Are we doing the right thing?”

Arcadias huffed, but he did not answer.

Solomon glanced upon him through the corner of his eye.

Mild mannered, refined even when angry, his opposite in every aspect.

“Bit late to be asking that? How do you want me to respond?” Arcadias' eyes pierced into him then, and the mildly smashed Solomon bitterly turned his own away.

“You got me involved in this, you know? Bit shameless to ask me that question.”

“I figured you’d try and talk me out of it,” Solomon confessed, “The fuck have we gotten into...what a mess.”

Arcadias cast a glance upon his depressed comrade as his own drink arrived.

His eyes half closed to slits as he stared upon the other man’s frame.

“Know why I didn’t talk you out of it?” Arcadias asked him, “It’s because I agree with you, something’s got to be done, better we deal with it now rather than let our unworthy successors bear the burden.”

“Stop talking sense, it gets on my nerves” Said the gruff Solomon as he sat up once more.

Arcadias shrugged, it was as if he didn’t really care, yet he smiled, subtly, but genuinely.

“Successors, huh…” That mutter made the Lord of Luna realise he’d said something he should not have.

The terms “child” or “successor” or anything of that sort were clear taboos when talking to this father of seventy two.

‘It’s because of those hags that you get like this,’ Thought the Lord of Luna as he pondered over his companion’s dilemma.

Solomon had many wives, but they were pretty much all status jumping upstarts.

Now that the father had grown aged and his time was drawing near the same hags had turned to his successors, their sons.

Solomon had named his sons as rulers over suitably sized cities in his domain at the behest of those hens, but in the end he hadn’t noticed what was happening before his seven Gold Class heirs became the leaders of their own budding factions.

Every wife who knew her son could not compete merely chose to have him cling to a faction, and rare was the son who didn’t get involved, will or nill, for his very life depended upon it.

Solomon was alone, surrounded by enemies aiming for his throne.

“What you need is a real woman,” Said the Lord of Luna, who put down his mug as he did so, “One who’ll treat you right.”

Solomon smiled and shook his head.

He knew his friend was not wrong, even he had come to recognise that he’d placed base pleasure too far above genuine satisfaction throughout his impetuous youth, he had no choice now but to reap what he’d sown.

“Everyone has fun when they are young, I just took too damn long to grow up,” Said the Lord of Sol as he raised his mug anew. “How are your sons?”

Arcadias, this he knew, was unlike him, he hadn't born any heirs, so he had chosen to adopt three children in place of his own.

Rumours had spread wide of his reason for this, but in the end Solomon basically concluded that his friend disliked women.

He wasn’t, at least hopefully wasn’t, into men, but he had claimed front row seats to witnessing the most terrible examples of the “fairer” sex thanks to his own antics over the years.

After seeing those women, was it any surprise he’d decided that they simply weren’t worth the trouble?

This, of course, was only Solomon’s conjecture, he did not know if it was the real reason or not.

“They are well,” Arcadias said with a nod.

He did not bid to boast, yet Solomon felt the sting of his own envy even so.

Arcadias' children were all talented after all: the eldest was an economist, his middle son a military man, and his youngest was a gifted politician.

Naturally this was no coincidence, Arcadias had adopted them for these very talents and refined them to perfection with a purpose in mind.

Thus the Lord of Luna did not find himself wanting for a successor nowadays, it hardly mattered which of the three was one day named Lord, nothing would change in how they ran the day to day, it was completely unlike Solomon’s chaotic situation.

‘Guess one of those brat’s will win the succession crisis eventually...hurts the heart to think they’re who I’m leaving the world to when I’m gone,’ Solomon summed it all up in those thoughts, he hated his wives nowadays and lamented having neglected in raising his sons.

Arcadias, sensing his companion’s mood dip back into depression, was a bit at a loss.

He thought about what Solomon would do for him if they swapped their roles around, and so he raised a hand awkwardly to pat his pal on the shoulder.

Solomon reacted, they locked eyes then, and the Lord of Luna smiled as he raised his glass.

Understanding his purpose, the Lord of Sol joined him in a toast, and then they both drowned the broth with one big gulp each.

“Not much of a conversation,” Said Solomon as he put down his mug.

“That’s how men are,” Said Arcadias, who gave a subtle shrug.

“That’s how we ought to be,” Said Solomon, who rose from his seat and turned to leave.

Arcadias followed, and the clerk rejoiced, for he could finally close or the day.

How frightful it had been for him to find himself serving two higher ranking lords? And yet how grand of a reward.

He eyed the coins Arcadias had left him with a look of pride and joy, for he knew he could work his entire life in this place, yet never see even a fraction of that number ever again.

___________________________________________________ 

The two lords walked home in the darkness.

Their Platinum Class bodies were swift at work, purifying the alcohol in their system rapidly with their every step.

The Lord of Luna paused his heels at the crossroad, he watched his companion turn to walk back to his lodgings with an uneasy eye.

“H...hay,” He called out, still mildly crimson of cheek.

His outstretched hand froze as Solomon turned to glance at him over his shoulder.

His fingers coiled shut, and he let loose a troubled, perhaps resigned, sigh.

“I was thinking of retiring when this is all said and done...would you like to join me, old friend?”

“Retirement, huh?” Said the Lord of Sol, “I suppose it’s about time.”

He turned away and pressed on with his walk.

Arcadias could not help but stand on the spot, he had never really gotten a proper answer.