The Silver Stream

Chapter Five

I am writing Trion from my own perspective and imaginings as I do not own any of the audiobooks bar one.  There was little to go on on Wikipedia so I am making some of this from my own mind.  I hope people like what I have thought would have happened to this particular character.  I like him so I wish that he would do something good.

PART TWO

Chapter Five

Beautiful, the man thought as he set up his oakwood easel and his pad.  Placing the stool on the flat grass surface he glanced at the view ahead of him before sitting down.  The copper towers of the government building gleamed brightly in the midday sun of Trion.  The light fell and shadows fell in exactly the right place to inspire him.

Sighing, he finally felt relaxed.  He had spent twenty years in power as the Decider of the Quincunx in the centre of government before the Invasion! All that change and things turn back round to how they were before he began travelling with... no! Do not think of him.  Every time he did stabs of guilt pierced his heart.  And what he almost did to her...  Just paint.  Painting helps you forget.

Carefully, he unwrapped his precious sets of brushes and opened paint dust and mixed them in water and egg yolk to make a paste before critically viewing the scene before him.

A slight breeze picked up blowing his humble robe around him. As he sketched he thought of his time as a Decider.  The very first Decider of Trion.  The Quincunx worked then.  Shaking his head he glanced back at the building he once spent so much of his time in.  He had tried to be fair.  All his decision based on what HE would do.  Then, for some reason some people thought he was being TOO fair.  What were they afraid of?  Then the Krugs showed up.  Turning heaven into hell.

A Trionic butterfly rested on his shoulder.  Copper wings with electric blue stripes running diagonally to the centre where the furry little body rested.  The man smiled.

“Hello, butterfly.  If you are patient I shall paint you next.”

Picking up a fine strip of lead he began drawing the angular spire set at the centre.  Five jagged points, representing the Five Consulates of the Quincunx, bore down as a symbol over who really was in power.

Trion had not been the same since Krugs turned up.  Krugs seemed to be stupid on first impression.  Turned out they were brutal.  They seemed to hold sway.  Kidnappings, murders, slavery, all the things that made him vomit. They were ugly brown creatures with arms longer than their legs, squat noses and white eyes.  Despite their looks they still managed to be able to buy people he once thought he could trust.

“Ex-Decider Turlough!” a man barked, “we have found your artworks!”

Turlough remained calm as he felt the cold metal of a laser gun pressing into the nape of his neck.  Turlough did not need to turn round.  The Soldier was wearing copper plated armour that seemed fitted for someone else, had a mole on his nose and was once bounced on Turlough’s knee  “You too Grimah?”

“Sir,” the soldier said.  “You know the system.  And you do have form?”

“And twenty years means nothing?” Turlough asked.  “Not to mention the five years I battled against the Krugs?”  The soldier’s hand shook.  Turlough felt the laser gun quake slightly against his neck. “Have you forgotten?  I once let your mother off when she stole a loaf of bread to feed you when you were a little boy.”

“I know that sir, but orders is orders!”

Turlough heard that one before.  

“We’ll see,” Turlough sighed.