Seeking the King

[Paul Atreides]

Paul wandered, still not entirely sure this was not a dream of his. Perhaps dreams had more power here and, if so, he was blurring the line between reality and dreaming. His prescient visions, aided by his mentat mind’s perceptive abilities, told him this was no dream but he had wandered on the dreamscape so frequently and in such a vivid way that he could no longer tell the difference.

The sleeper walked among the waking world of the Omniverse trailed by a stout man with an inkvine scar on his jawline.

“My lord... I still do not understand.”

“All will be revealed in time Gurney.” Paul said, his blue in blue eyes hidden deep in a hood of green that he wore over his stillsuit. The troubadour warmaster was rebuffed but did not speak his mind further. Paul had recently tried his hand at summoning a secondary. It had been an... exhausting task. He had thought long and hard on who to summon. Should he call upon his love, Chani? Upon his father for support? Upon Duncan for his sword arm? No... he felt that he needed guidance more than anything right now and none offered it better than the ugly lump of a man who followed him through the forest of this archaic world. What he needed now was a loyal man and Gurney Halleck was the most loyal man to house Atreides he knew.

“Well then, at least tell me where we are going. I will make arrangements for your security my lord.”

Paul turned on the Gurney, but not cruelly. He looked at his man, a face he had not looked upon for several years. Paul had thought him dead and... as far a he knew he was. Had Paul summoned his spirit back from death? Was this really Gurney? Paul did not know but he knew he needed the warrior’s guidance. Paul smiled a soft smile, a softer one than he had given anyone but Chani in years.

“Your a good man Gurney.”

“T-thank you m’lord?”

“You will learn soon enough where we are going. I am guided by things I do not truly understand. It is a wind Gurney- unseen but felt. I will follow this wind and when it blows me to where I must be, I will tell you.”

The bald old soldier shrugged to this and laughed his hearty belly laugh.

“Lad, you are a strange one. I’d not say that with contempt either. I find strange men live far longer than boring ones and it is often the mark of greatness. That it is so with you, I have no doubt.”

The brawny, disfigured, man spoke with such casualty but that was a privilege well earned and paid for in the blood of his family’s enemies. Paul laughed, a smirk at first but later he relaxed and let himself chuckle at his warmaster. This was why he had summoned Gurney- not only for his sword and his mind- but his soul. No other man in the universe could make him laugh one minute and save his life the next.

So it was that they reached the mighty city of Minas Tirith, having walked for several days. Instinctively Paul knew he could have summoned forth a means of travel but he felt... right walking. He walked because it was familiar, because it put him at ease, and those were things he needed right now in a world as archaic and strange as this.

“This is where the wind has blown us Gurney. This is where we must seek out a great man.”

“A great man?”

“There are always great men in great cities Gurney- it remains to be seen if this great man is a man of great morals or a man of great cruelty however.”

“Aye m’lord. Let’s go find out then...”

TL;DR: Paul summoned Gurney Halleck to his side and has just arrived at the gates of Minas Tirith, having walked it from the gate.

[Paul Atreides]

The city streets were crowded and, despite his unfamiliarity with the specifics of the culture- Paul knew it well. He had a mentat’s mind and stores of information on governance and policy the likes of which this universe had seldom seen. By the number of beggars or poor he could discern financial patterns, from the make and prevalence of weapons and armor he could discern military’s disposition. All this was extrapolation, but extrapolation and projections were what a mentat was best at. He was learning the rules of this universe- technology seemed immaterial and one’s status as a prime or secondary seemed far more important. Here “omnilium” was king and he knew that power dynamic well- omnilium, spice- it was all the same. Omni held all the omnilium and doled it out so, since Paul could not influence Omni directly, those who had the most had the most power in this world. He was sure Primes had the most and the more powerful the Prime, the more omnilium they must have. It was a vicious cycle, but one he understood well from his own experiences.

“Paul... what is this place?” Gurney asked in his rough, sandpaper voice. The squat man in the Atreides military uniform was regarding a number of alien lifeforms who sported odd technology who were talking next to what might have been a knight from old Earth. Such a contrast still struck Paul as odd as well but when one factored it into the larger rules of this universe- it made perfect sense. There was a logic to this unlogic- a tapestry lesser minds couldn’t see. He was... good at that however and he imparted what knowledge he could to his secondary.

“I see... I’ve seen few stranger places...” The burly little man said, chewing over the information when Paul had finished. He’d related the information Omni had imparted to him and even tested a few of his theories on the Warmaster. He’d agreed with him and even challenged a few. Paul could say one thing about Gurney- he was nothing if not sharp.

“So, m’lord, this is why you came here. If this omnilium is not unlike spice- it will be centralized in major cities like this.”

Paul nodded slowly, his blue-in-blue eyes appreciating his man’s aptitude, “And I intend to meet with the man who has the most. He will be the one who I will have to understand to understand this land and it’s people. A people reflect their leader and I can see that he leads them well, if not with an unpracticed hand.”

He had noted, as he and Gurney had walked the streets, that the people were well cared for within the means of the city. You couldn’t fake happy people. Forced or false smiles were easy to see though and he didn’t see any of those here. Genuine contentment came from opportunities, from fulfillment, and from a sense of security. Paul did not read this on everyone’s face but he did read this on enough to give him the notion that the citizens of Minas Tirith were not lead by an absolute tyrant.

Paul’s entirely blue eyes came to rest upon a sickly looking man and they narrowed. Without a word he knelt and drew a little water from the mouthpiece of his stillsuit.

“Drink, you are not well.” Paul said, giving the man a gift that others would consider simple but Paul regarded more highly than life itself- water.

The man looked up, a huddled form of rags and bones. He wasn’t sure what to make of Paul and Gurney but took the succor anyway.

“T-thank you.” He said with cracked lips, his voice a low growl.

“How did you come to be like this? Is there not a place of aid nearby?”

The beggar looked confused, but finally made up his mind to speak to Paul.

“Yes... but I was turned away. It is overcrowded with wounded secondary soldiers and primes.”

Paul’s face did not stir. He had seen death and understood that the needs of the strong outweighed the needs of the weak in the desert. Still, there seemed like there might still be something he could do for the beggar.

“I’m no healer but I know of a great many things. You simply seem to be wasting away from malnutrition and from thirst. It would be best if you got yourself some food.” He explained and then seemed to be lost in thought. If one could make people what would a simple bit of food take? He couldn’t image it would be difficult so, he held up his hand to the beggar.

“I... may be able to help.” And, after a long minute of concentration, produced a small packaged meal. He had... created what he needed. Checking inside he unfolded the lid of the nutrition ration he had produced and inhaled.... Spice. There was just a touch but every cell in his body knew the cinnamon odor and reacted. This would restore the man, even though the amount of Spice was only the lightest dusting. He’d seen it perk up men on their deathbeds so what was a little malnutrition?

“Eat this.” He said calmly, offering the food to him. In response the beggar pushed back like a scared cat.

“Y-y-you’re a Prime!?” He said shakily, waving his arms to express his refutation of the food.

“And what of it? Can a Prime not help a man like you?”

The beggar considered this for a minute. Those Primes he had meet hadn’t paid any attention to him except for a wicked one who had treated him badly. He seemed to consider this for a long moment before finally seeming to give in and took the offered food. Gurney gave a huff as if to say “finally” but waited respectfully behind Paul.

The man ate slowly at first but gained in vigor once he saw that it was not tainted. He wolfed down the last few bites and even lickedh is fingers.

“That was... what was that?” The man asked with confused amazement.

“A gift. A gift for the people of this city from Muad'dib.”

The beggar nodded but clearly was a little confused. Was the name supposed to mean something?

“Tell me, who is the lord here?”

“You mean Omni?”

Paul realized that he had perhaps used the wrong term. The man had taken “lord” to mean “god”.

“No... I mean who is the Prime in charge of this city?”

To this the beggar responded, licking the inside of the wrapper with gusto, “Oh- that’d be King Aragorn. He holds court on the highest level of this city.That great hall up there.”

Paul’s blue eyes followed the ragamuffin’s finger as he extended it up to the highest point of the circular city.

“Then that is where I must go...” Paul said quietly but Gurney heard him.

“Is that where the wind is blowing you m’lord?”

“Indeed Gurney. I feel that it is where it is my fate to go...” Paul said prophetically before offering the man on the ground a nod and passing onward.

Now he had a name and a location. All that lay between him and a meeting with the king was the rest of the city and many social barriers. Perhaps he could leverage his status as a Prime to gain an audience...

TL;DR: Paul and Gurney meet a homeless man and feed him. The man is surprised that a Prime would help him. Paul learns of King Aragorn and is now heading to the inner city to try to gain an audience with him.

[Paul Atreides]

Paul’s progress was largely unimpeded as he moved with his fremen style of movement through the city. It was not particularly graceful or impressive but it was efficient and quick. They used it to cross the desert at night and was required for all young ones in the sietch to master before they could walk the dunes. Gurney kept pace but without so much reserve, becoming winded by the time they reached up the upper echelons of the Minas Tirith. He had gone unchallenged but observed the guards standing at attention ahead of him.

Gurney would, no doubt, suggest that he sneak his way in, even if it meant killing a guard or two but knew that Paul would object. The two had an unspoken repartee- it wasn’t that Paul was against killing, even less so now that he was Fremen, but he was more political than that. He would find out what he wanted without potentially causing an incident. Flexing one's muscles, especially in a place like this, was bound to lead back to him. With a resigned sigh Paul approached the guards, empty of hand.

“Hault. The king’s chambers are closed to all those who do not have business with him.” A guard said, his armor rattling as he stood a little tensely as Paul approached. Being empty handed did little to dull Paul’s lethality- he was a master of the weirding way and fremen unarmed combat. What was a man with a spear against a man he could not hit?

“He has business with me... I seek a good man.” Paul said calmly, a force of personality subliminal in his voice.

The man seemed confused by this but did not budge,

“I don’t have orders to let you in so... I won’t. I apologize if it’s an inconvenience but we have to be strict around here.”

Paul thought of using Voice on the man but hadn’t been able to use it since arriving. It felt... rusty and distant, but he was sure he would reawaken his skill in it soon.

Gurney stepped forward, his posture saying “let me handle this master Paul”. Paul, despite his reservations, allowed him.

“Do you not know who this man is? He is the Duke of House Atreides and your King best make time in his schedule for a man of his-”

“Enough Gurney. Titles mean nothing here. This is a new land with new rules. I am not here as a Duke or a leader of men. I am here as a simple pilgrim. I am here to learn the lay of the land from the mouth of the King of them. I wish to know their heart- their disposition. In short, I wish to know if your King is a good man. I have seen his people and done them what service I can, but I now desire to know his heart...”

Paul spoke in a very formal style of address, his word choice poetic and flowery but his convictions sharp and strong.

The guard regarded him again, a keen eye looking him over.

“Look. Who goes in and who goes out is not a choice I can make. You’ll have to schedule something with his seneschal or an officer. They don’t pay me enough to deal with people like you.”

Paul considered this for a moment and found it to be true. He understood the need for formal channels and went to seek an audience through them.

TL;DR: Paul and Gurney tried to get in via a guard but the guard eventually told them to piss off and make a formal reservation.

[Paul Atreides]

Paul relented. The bureaucratic experience he had indulged himself in was impenetrable. It took no special talent to recognize that the king was far too busy for what he was rapidly becoming aware of was his small presence in this universe. The king was a man of high ideals, not of the common man and while that concerned him... he understood it. His man Gurney Halleck, a creature far less subtle than him, persisted and was refused time and time again. The attendants had been polite to him and Paul but they had been adamant. This was, as Paul understood, a chink in the political system that could prove fatal. It was one thing to get advice from wise advisers but to deprive yourself of the view of the newly arrived and the common man was to place yourself outside the realm of good leadership. Perhaps he would find better leaders elsewhere, perhaps not. He was not dismayed however, for the King’s sin was not a cardinal one and one he had seen many times. The Atreides had always ruled by consent of the people and with a kind but firm hand. He’d learned from the cruelty the Harkonen employed that walling oneself up in an ivory tower only lead to self-destruction.

“Come now Gurney. We must retire. I fear our presence here is not needed. We will find other men to speak of things with. The king had time for none such as ourselves.”

Gurney was a bit crestfallen but he hid it well.

“Of course my Duke. We will find employ elsewhere, of this I am sure.”

Paul gave no response to this and merely left with his economic Fremen gait, slipping into the crowd and was no more a bother on the doorstep of the King. He made himself scarce, availing himself of the familiar dangers the wilderness provided him.

TL;DR: Paul and Gurney make no headway and leave. Paul still respects the King but feels he may have a fatal political flaw. Thread over.