A Rouvin the Philosopher Short Story
“Sell yourself into slavery,” they said.
“It will be good for your career,” they said.
Well, Helios had done exactly that, and after fifteen years of unpaid labor, was beginning to think it was a bad idea.
His deepest desire, his greatest longing, his lifelong dream, was to become chief steward of Lysander the Conqueror’s household. So, in his youth, he interviewed dozens of highly successful stewards and took detailed notes about their career paths. Almost all of them said the same thing: “The first step is to beg some wealthy patrician to make you his slave.”
Helios went directly to Lysander’s chief steward, Epikrates, and, being very careful not to mention he was coming for his job, begged to be added to the conqueror’s household staff.
Epikrates gave him a job in the kitchen, flushing toilets, which were in the kitchen back then. And by Dithis! Helios flushed! He ran back and forth, filling buckets with water and dumping them down the toilets as needed. Epikrates was so impressed by his flushing, he promoted him to tile polisher. Again, Helios put his all into it, polishing tiles like no slave before him.
As the years passed, Helios came closer and closer to his dream job by putting his all into every task set before him. Soon, he had a quarter of Lysander’s slaves working under him, then a half, then one day, he became second only to Epikrates himself.
Finally, he was within spitting distance of his lifelong dream! All he needed was a little patience.
When, one day, a messenger brought word of Lysander’s return, Epikrates and Helios took an entourage of servants and went out to the Bridge of Elokopalopa to meet him. They brought with them palm fans, tambourines, refreshments, and everything else a household would need to greet a returning conqueror.
Helios could tell the emperor was in a sour mood even from a distance by his rigid posture. As he drew closer, Helios noticed the hard line that was Lysander’s mouth, his tightly knit brows, and the dents in his armor.
His men didn’t look much better; they were scratched up and bloody, and some of them had arrows protruding from various places.
It was probably not the best moment for Epikrates to rush forward with a grin and say, “Welcome home, oh Victorious One! How was the eastern frontier?”
Helios was amazed that Epikrates didn’t have more sense. Still, even he did not expect Lysander to grab the steward by the neck and throw him off the bridge.
All the slaves, Helios included, watched in amazement as their superior went hurtling to his doom.
After a distant splash, the conqueror turned an exasperated face toward Helios.
“You!” he said, thrusting a finger at him. “What’s your name?”
Helios felt a sudden tingling in his chest, but from terror or excitement, he didn’t know.
“Helios, Oh Great One,” Helios replied.
“Get me the strongest drink you can find,” Lysander pleaded.
Helios raced to obey, his heart pounding in his chest. The chief steward position was now vacant… Lysander had noticed him… His greatest dreams were about to be realized!
He poured the wine and handed Lysander the cup. The emperor drank the entire thing in one gulp because, when you’re the emperor, you can drink wine in one gulp without anyone questioning you.
Thrusting the cup back into Helios’ hands, he cried, “Epikrates! Ready the household! I’m going home!”
An awkward silence followed, then Lysander swore to himself.
“I just killed Epikrates, didn’t I?” he realized. “Who is going to ready my household?”
Helios was trying his best not to shake with excitement. He was the obvious choice.
“You,” Lysander cried, pointing to him.
Helios grinned.
“Get me more wine!”
As Helios rushed to obey, he noticed Lysander pointing to a gangly young man who happened to be standing at the front of the welcoming party. This was Stephen, a recent addition to the staff, brought back from Lysander’s last conquest. The emperor seemed to lighten up a little at the sight of him.
“Steve, Steve, Stephen! My favorite spear polisher! You’re getting a promotion!”
A rage boiled through Helios. He had worked for years, doing each and every mundane task perfectly! He had given up his freedom, his rights, his… other parts of himself… all for the sake of his dream. What had Stephen ever done?
Stephen wasn’t even Lysandrian! He was just some fisherman who’d been snatched from his homeland! What did he know about managing a great household?
Still, Helios, not wanting to be hurled off the bridge, chose the path of silent resentment and fetched Lysander his wine.
Thus, instead of becoming the chief steward that day, he became the emperor’s cupbearer.
His parents had once implored him not to sell himself into slavery. At the time, he called them dream-killers. Now, he realized they were absolutely right.
The one nice thing about being Lysander’s cupbearer was that Helios was always standing behind Lysander’s throne and thus got to witness all of the goings-on in the Imperial court.
One day, Lysander decided to boast to all his nobles about a philosopher he had brought back from his conquest of Helevinia. When the philosopher in question, Rouvin, as they called him, was brought forward, Helios did not see anything particularly special about him. In fact, he looked exactly like every other cranky old man Helios had ever seen—hardened eyes, furrowed brow, and a beard that needed a trim.
Lysander claimed the man was some kind of a genius who would bring a new age of enlightenment to his city. Education happened to be Lysander’s latest fixation. In months past, it had been aqueducts, and before that, obelisks.
Still, with nothing better to do than hold a goblet, Helios listened intently to see what profound thoughts this wise man would bring to Lysander’s fair city.
And Helios was not disappointed, for indeed, Rouvin was wise. He spoke about how everything in the universe was made up of four elements—water, earth, fire, and air. How, in turn, the movable elements were made up of nautilus spirals, and the immovable elements made up of triangles. How the spirit of man is a camel, how actual things are greater than the idea of things, and how prudence guides all other virtues.
After that first introduction, Lysander decided all further lectures by Rouvin would be delivered as they walked along the beach. The emperor and his new teacher would lead the party, and the men of his court would follow behind in a procession.
Helios would walk just to the emperor’s left, holding a wine jug and goblet. And of course, Lysander never went anywhere without a couple of fan girls. For Rouvin’s lectures, he liked to bring Emilia and Dafni because, not only were they excellent at waving giant palm leaves, but they were also very good about ooing and ahhing at their emperor’s newfound wisdom.
Listening to Rouvin almost made Helios forget the fact that his life-long dream had been crushed, and he was stuck with a career as a human end table. Day in and day out, his mind was molded–one day his thoughts seemed to spiral, and the next they were steady with three sturdy sides. Each day, he felt more at peace with his lot in life.
Then, one day, Rouvin decided to bring up his theories on slave nature. A large portion of the human population, Rouvin explained, was not capable of reason and therefore not capable of philosophy. These poor souls could not survive in the wild on their own and, therefore must be given some kind of menial work to keep them occupied.
This group of people included all women and most men.
Now you might think that Helios would have been highly offended by this teaching, considering he was a slave, but after giving up everything to chase an impossible dream, Helios thought maybe Rouvin was right.
Afterall, he really hadn’t made the best decisions in life. Maybe it was good that he lived under the thumb of the wise few.
As Helios mulled over all these things, Lysander came to a sudden stop.
“Do you hear that?” he said.
Helios listened. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a song—a beautiful, haunting melody.
“There!” Lysander said, pointing to a speck of movement beside the waters ahead.
Then, without another word, the emperor and his party began jogging toward the sound.
Of course, Helios, Rouvin, and the fan girls trotted along behind.
All the while that lovely haunting sound grew louder, filling the air all around them. It seemed to pull at their very souls until the source of the music came into view.
Standing in the surf were a dozen singing maidens, each with the radiance of a goddess. Their hair danced around them in the breeze, but never blocked their bright eyes and glowing smiles.
They would have been completely unclad, but luckily, the ocean (in an attempt to keep this story’s rating under PG-13) had washed seaweed and shells onto them in just such a way as to provide the minimum necessary coverage.
They giggled as Lysander gaped at them, waving at him and tossing their hair.
There was a time when Helios might have reacted similarly, but shortly after becoming a slave, he lost all interest in women. The only thing he felt when he looked at them was annoyance that they were violating the Lysandrian decency code.
He hoped the emperor would issue a fine, but somehow doubted it.
“Rouvin,” Lysander said. “Let us take a break from our lesson and enjoy this pleasant company for a while.”
Rouvin, who seemed completely unfazed by the apparition, objected. “But, Your Greatness, I was just getting to Mastery of the Passions.”
“Mastery of the passions can wait,” the emperor rebuked, starting toward the women.
Then, Helios heard something that shook him—the sound of his own voice begging his master to wait. What was he doing? He wasn’t supposed to speak to the emperor… Yet, something about this entire situation felt off to him.
The emperor swung back toward Helios, brows raised in surprise.
Helios knelt in the sand.
“Forgive me, Your Greatness,” Helios pleaded. “But I can not stand by and say nothing while you rush into a trap.”
“A trap?” scoffed the emperor.
“Who are these women?” Helios said. “That would dare violate Lysandrian decency codes before the very man who signed them into law?”
“Those codes don’t apply to women who look like them,” Lysander pointed out.
“I think Helios has a point,” Dafni mumbled timidly, wringing her palm branch in her hands. “Isn’t it forbidden to walk on this beach without your leave? What makes these women so bold?”
“Am I losing the respect of all my slaves now?” Lysander gasped.
“We just fear for your safety, Your Greatness,” Emilia added. “We couldn’t bear it if you fell prey to sirens.”
“Sirens!” Lysander laughed. “Our philosopher was right, you all really are incapable of reason!”
With that, he turned and ran toward the open arms of the singing maidens, his entourage of male friends in tow.
“Sirens,” Rouvins grumbled under his breath. “How silly. Sirens appeal to the deepest desires of men’s hearts. If this were a siren’s trap, they would be offering us knowledge, not…” he glanced at the giggling, waving women, and rolled his eyes. “Base pleasures.”
“Not all men have such deep desires,” Emilia pointed out. “And if one method works…” She gestured toward the crowd of men charging toward certain doom. “Why complicate it?”
Rouvin scowled, pulled a scroll from his satchel, and took a seat on a piece of driftwood.
“So I guess we’ll just… wait here,” Helios shrugged.
“Sssh!” Rouvin hissed, shooting him a scowl.
Helios rolled his eyes. For the first time in his life, he wondered if it really would be all that bad for something to happen to his emperor. Maybe a different emperor would give him the role of steward? One could certainly dream.
Just then, a frantic, violent splashing and the screams of men snapped him from his thoughts. Looking toward the emperor, he saw that the sea goddesses had suddenly sprouted fangs, fins, and spiky scales. They were swarming all over Lysander’s party, trying to pull the struggling men beneath the crimson water.
“Well,” Helios stated. “We did warn him.”
“Told you they were sirens,” Emilia commented.
“Do something!” Rouvin cried, leaping to his feet.
Helios had no idea what they could do. There wouldn’t be much left of the emperor’s party by the time they made it across the beach, and then they would just be giving themselves over for desert.
“Look!” Rouvin cried, pointing toward the sand beside the swarm. The slumped form of the emperor was dragging himself ashore, thus far unnoticed by the monsters. As the sirens feasted on the corpses of his friends, Lysander managed to make it into a hollow between a boulder and a pile of driftwood unnoticed.
Helios pressed his lips together thoughtfully. Perhaps there was hope for his master afterall?
Maybe, if they could distract the sirens long enough, Lysander could escape onto higher ground. Helios furrowed his brow as he observed the situation, weighing his options. Should he even bother saving the emperor?
“Look!” Rouvin whispered. “He made it! You must be able to do something!”
Then something occurred to Helios… Maybe if he rescued the emperor, he would be rewarded with the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world. If he could prove to Lysander that he was capable enough to get him out of this situation, surely, he would believe he was capable enough to be chief steward.
“I have an idea,” Helios smiled.
Never once since the birth of the human species has a man ever sung of the beauty of a woman’s eyebrows. The curve of her face or her lips, certainly. But the gentle arch of her perfectly sculpted brows? No.
Men neither notice nor discuss female eyebrows. Women, on the other hand, spend an inordinate amount of time fixated on the eyebrows of other women. In female society, the shape of the brow can be the difference between being accepted into the pack and being shunned.
The only reason Helios was aware of this particular dynamic was that the circumstances of his slavery meant that every woman in the household felt safe venting their grievances to him.
He was neither subject to female social rules nor was he ever interested in anything more than friendship with them. To women, Helios was the Platonic friend—that is, the ideal friend of which all other friends are mere shadows.
This experience gave Helios the knowledge he needed to formulate a rescue plan.
While the sirens were still busy plucking the last bits of flesh from the bones of Lysander’s friends, Emilia and Dafni positioned themselves to be just barely within earshot of the Sirens. Helios noticed one with larger fins and golden seashells who seemed to be the leader of the swarm, and instructed Emilia and Dafni to make her the subject of their conversation.
“Wow, they are so beautiful,” Dafni whispered to Emilia.
“Gorgeous,” Emilia whispered back. “I’m willing to bet those noblemen regret nothing.”
As they spoke, Helios was watching from a crevasse in the seawall, from which he could see the sirens, the fan girls, and Lysander’s hiding place.
Rouvin was cowering farther back in the cressave, rearranging the scrolls in his satchel and mumbling about how ridiculous the whole situation was.
Helios noticed the alpha siren’s webbed, fin-like ears perk up at the sound of Emilia’s compliment. She grinned as she picked her teeth with a dead nobleman’s brooch pin.
“How did they get their hair like that!” Dafni gasped. “Perfect!”
“I know!” Emilia agreed.
The alpha siren beamed.
“I just don’t see why…” Emilia continued.
“Why what?” Dafni asked.
The lead siren leaned forward to listen, frowning slightly.
Emilia looked back and forth and lowered her voice. “You see the one at the front? With the golden seashells?”
The alpha siren glanced down at her golden seashells.
“Yes,” Dafni answered, glancing at the alpha siren.
“Why on earth did she feel the need to use that much color on her eyebrows!” Emilia hissed.
The alpha siren’s jaw dropped.
Dafni broke into a broad grin. “Oh my gods! I was just thinking the exact same thing. Like, she did not need to try that hard.”
“Agreed,” Emilia nodded, not even bothering to lower her voice this time. “Like all the others, just used an aquamarine tint, you know? Just a tiny pop of color. And then.” She gestured toward the alpha. “That witch looks like she just smeared on the turquoise with her thumbs!”
Dafni giggled.
Now the other sirens were peeking out of the surf, glancing up at their leader, and murmuring among themselves.
“Also, also!” Emilia added excitedly. “When they were all singing, did you hear how blue-brows there was just belting out every single note?”
“It’s like she was screaming ‘desperate’,” Dafni agreed.
Emilia laughed. Dafni laughed. And then all the sirens, save their leader, burst out laughing too.
“Those brows do kind of make you look like a man,” one of the sirens snarled.
“And she sings like one, too!” another leered.
“Leave me alone!” the alpha siren howled.
“Sure,” one of the others laughed. “With brows like that, you don’t need us!”
Then, in a flurry of laughter and splashing, the sirens disappeared into the sea, leaving their leader to sob alone on the shoreline.
Emilia and Dafni walked away arm in arm, chatting and laughing as if they hadn’t just completely destroyed the self-confidence of a legendary sea monster.
Helios took this as his signal to venture from his hiding place and slowly approach the weeping creature.
“Women can be so cruel, can’t they?” he said softly.
When the siren raised her face from her hands, she saw him staring down at her with a gentle, sympathetic expression.
“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Helios coughed. “And I know it doesn’t mean much coming from a stranger… but I think turquoise suits you.”
“Really?” the siren smiled through her tears and ran a webbed finger over one of her brows. “You don’t think it’s too loud?”
Now, if she had been looking past Helios, she might have noticed an old man emerge from the sea cliff and gesture desperately to a pile of driftwood. Fortunately, she was too busy awaiting Helios’ answer to notice anything else.
Helios regarded her. Her makeup was a little loud, if he was being honest.
“What I think doesn’t matter,” he smiled. “You had the confidence to express yourself. You lured a dozen noblemen to their deaths. And that, my dear, is beautiful.”
At this point, a wet and miserable-looking Lysander was scurrying up the sea cliff toward Rouvin, but the siren was too busy smiling into Helios’ kind face to notice.
“What’s your name?” she sniffed.
“Helios,” Helios answered.
“Well, Helios,” she sighed. “You’re a great friend.”
She gave him a platonic hug with lots of back pats. Then, a distant whistle alerted Helios to the safety of his master. It was time to retreat before this siren decided she needed a meal more than a friend.
He broke from her and took a step backward.
“Well, if you ever need someone to talk to,” he gestured toward the palace on the cliff above. “You know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Helios,” she smiled through her tears.
Helios slowly backed away until he saw his new friend dive into the surf. Then he let out a relieved breath and fled back toward the palace to meet his master.
Lysander couldn’t believe it when Helios explained how they planned and executed his rescue.
“Cupbearer,” Lysander declared, placing a firm hand on his slave’s shoulder. “… what was your name again?”
“Helios, Your Greatness,” Helio said.
“Helios,” Lysander stated. “Because, even while being incapable of reason, you managed to save my life… I will grant you anything your heart desires.”
And so Helios finally achieved his lifelong dream of becoming the emperor’s steward. Not only that, he was given power and wealth and fame and his own apartment in the palace. Lysander even told him he could take Dafni for a wife.
Helios accepted, but only because he was secretly scared of the dark and liked the idea of having a roommate.
Thus, he lived his dream for a few wonderful years before Lysander died in a tragic and mysterious accident, and the empire crumbled and the city caught on fire, but all of that nonsense is documented in another tale.
The other tale: Rouvin the Philosopher
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