Chapter 66

“That’s what they’re planning,” Weston Reams, one of the minor nobles who was too insignificant to get his foot into the Imperial cabinet reported to Edrian Wolls, not knowing Emperor Evrain was watching from the shadows.

This was going to be it. This was going to be his big break. He would turn in his fellow nobles and he and a few of his choice men would be brought in to take the places of the traitors who would die for their treason.

Aris Ravenscroft had handed him his advancement on a silver platter. He’d practically offered up his own head for the chopping block.

For such a smart man, Aris had proven to be quite the fool. He deserved to die for how poorly he played the political game. He was a fool and fools didn’t survive in politics. Only the cold and cunning deserved to survive the game.

Weston Reams was no fool. He knew that Aris’ rebellion would die just like Dren’s little resistance. A man whom the General had ironically helped to kill.

Aris would join that rebel scum in the grave. He had turned his back on Evrain, the savior of Vealand and had dared to say that the man was a false lord.

He truly was a fool just like his brother had been.

He had long suspected a soft core to the man, but Aris had constantly proven him wrong, frustrating Weston Reams. Yesterday though, had been a gift from the heavens. Aris Ravenscroft had proven the cowardice that Weston had always known was there. He’d proven his treachery. More than proven it. He had thrown it in their faces. He had shoved it right in front of him like the severed head of the man that he’d claimed was an Inquisitor operating under the instructions of the man sitting right in front of him.

It was almost ironic how Aris, proving to be the madman that Weston Reams always knew he was, had shoved that scarred and decapitated head in front of them. It was almost humorous in how prophetic an act the General’s hoisting of the head had turned out to be. Soon, in days, if not hours, that would be the head of Aris Ravenscroft.

“Thank you,” Edrian Wolls cooed. “You will be well rewarded for what you’ve done for us. I will not forget the service you’ve given me. No, that’s not right. We will not forget what you’ve done for Emperor Evrain. You’ve brought him the new rebellion before it has even begun and for that we could never thank you enough.”

Weston Reams smiled at the man. He felt a connection with the Minister of Defense. Edrian Wolls knew how to play the game and he would reward him justly. Weston Reams would finally break free from his fate of being a minor noble. Rich and important, but neither rich enough, nor important enough to matter. No longer would that be his life. He would finally MATTER.

No, now he mattered.

Now he would matter more than the rest of those traitors. He would take all their power for himself. When he thought of it, really, he owed a debt to Aris.

“You are dismissed,” Edrian said growing annoyed as Weston Reams stayed around, not getting the hint that he’d just been told to leave.

The man was a fool.

Weston Reams smiled at Edrian Wolls as he left. He smiled at the man like they were partners or something. The thought disgusted him. Weston was below him. He was dirt compared to the Minister of Defense. He barely deserved to be tread upon so insignificant was he. What a waste of breath.

“You heard?” Edrian said when the minor noble left.

Evrain stepped out from the panel he’d hidden behind. “Every word.”

“What should we do?” Edrian asked.

Evrain barely suppressed a sneer. Who was this fool Edrian Wolls to dare use his name in conjunction with Evrain’s own. We? We?! Evrain should kill him where he stood. The man was a worm.

How dare he equate himself with Evrain?

But he was useful. He was an invaluable tool. He would be discarded when this was all over, that was for sure, but right now he needed him. He needed the blind ambition that the man held that fueled such destruction.

He needed that man who would watch the world burn to gain a higher position because he planned on burning down the world.

“Sir?” Edrian said, his eyebrows knit as he looked at the Emperor.

Evrain shook himself from his fantasies of having the sniveling man torn apart by wild dogs and forced himself to actually pay attention to what the Minister of Defense was asking of him.

“Kill them.”

“What sir?” Edrian cocked his head. He had to have misheard.

“No, you didn’t mishear me,” Emperor Evrain said as if reading his mind. “I want you to kill them.”

“Kill them?”

“Yes, kill them all. Kill them. We need to wipe the slate clean. The fact that there are some who would even entertain the notion of treason shows that none of them can be trusted. No, we’re better off without them. Kill them. All of them. I don’t want a single noble house standing. Only that of Aris Ravenscroft. I want him to see the seeds of the rebellion he’s trying to sow being burned like chaff. I want to see him suffer.”

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“But sir. What about the public? What will they say when they see their leaders dying?”

“The public loves nothing more than a dead politician.”

“Are you sure?” Edrian asked again. He understood killing political enemies and potential dangers, but Emperor Evrain was talking about a genocide of their nation’s leadership. Would there be a country left for him to rule over if he partook in the killing of its rulers? Was it the tremors that Evrain was trying to hide that was effecting his brain? Killing a few made sense, but killing everyone? That was insanity.

Emperor Evrain gave him a withering look. His knees trembled at the sight. That was a look that said, ‘if you don’t obey my commands, you’ll join those whom I ordered the assassinations upon.’

Edrian Wolls cursed to himself. He hated himself for debasing himself so, but never had he ever imagined Evrain ordering the murders of everyone in his own Imperial government.

“Yes sir,” he said, lowering his head.

How was he going to play himself out of this situation? Could he be put in charge of bringing in the replacements for the former noblemen? Maybe he would be the one to appoint new nobles. New generals and ministers.

In seconds, the horror that had consumed Edrian Wolls turned into something else. His heart emerged from its cocoon of repulsion and it transformed into a butterfly of anticipation. This would afford him more power than he had ever dreamed possible.

All he had to do was follow the orders and send men to have those other nobles killed. That wasn’t such a big deal really. He’d had men killed before.

He’d had friends killed before.

This was more power than he could ever dream of. He had to seize the opportunity. If he didn’t he would be every bit the fool he despised the others for being. If he didn’t take advantage of this situation, he would deserve death like those poor fools whom he was about to have murdered.

Yes, he would have blood on his hands.

Lots of blood.

But he would have power.

More power than he had imagined possible.

He really would be second only to the Emperor.

*****

“Aris Ravenscroft is a fool. He’s a fool for abandoning Emperor Evrain. He’s worse for bringing us all into his mess. He’s a bloody idiot for trying to get us to join his pet rebellion.” Weston Reams thought as he sat astride his horse.

He had visited a brothel as a reward to himself for this opportunity he’d seized. He had a wife and two children, an elder daughter, nearing sixteen now, and a son of nine. His wife was beautiful. Thinking of her body filled him with lust.

But he was a man, who could expect a man to be faithful to only one woman?

How could he be expected to devote his body, his lust, to just one person? That was pure idiocy. “Watching him fall will be nearly even sweeter than the bed I shared with that young woman…What was her name? Oh well. It will feel rapturous to rid myself of that stick in the mud. It will be even better when I’m celebrated as the one who saved Fiell from a rebellion from the hero who never really was one. I’ll be the hero now. I’ll be the one who is worshipped in the streets. I’ll be the one that the papers write about.”

Weston took his time as he rode back to his estates that bordered the Eastern edge of the town, on the opposite side of town from the Imperial keep. True it was far away from the heart of the city, but still, Weston loved it on the Eastern end of town.

There were no mountains that loomed over him, reminding him of all the obstacles he had yet to overcome. The plains were like him, free.

Free to grow, free to roam.

He took a sip of ale as he rode up to gates of his estate. He was in a good mood. He would see his daughter and twirl her around. He would see his son and roughhouse with him. Weston would see his wife and slate the lust that stirred up again inside him with her supple form.

Yes today was a good day.

He finally had a chance to break from being the minor noble with little land or holdings to give him status.

He finally had the chance to be who he always aspired to be.

He rode up to the gate and shouted to be let in.

Nobody answered.

He shouted again.

Still no answer.

His mood started to sour. He would have to find the fool that they put in charge of guarding the gate and have him beaten. He would not allow his success to be soured by the incompetence of fools.

He shouted again. Once again, nobody answered.

He pushed on the gate. It swung open.

Great, they had really abandoned their post. Now his mood had been ruined. He would have every gate guard who was supposed to be on duty beaten.

He rode into his courtyard. It was bare. Nobody was there. He rode to the stables. Still no-one.

“Something’s wrong,” Weston Reams finally thought to himself. Something was very wrong. The estate was never this quiet. Not even at night. “Emperors balls! What’s happened?” Panic started to fill his gut.

He locked the lock in the stables. He hadn’t noticed it yet because of the hard ale that he’ consumed and whose effects had yet to fully wear off, but even the horses were quiet. They pressed against the backs of their stables so hard that it seemed as if they were trying to meld with the walls of the building.

The silence was eerie.

No not eerie. Terrifying.

Weston Reams unsheathed his ornate dagger. He left the stables and crept towards the door of his manor expecting someone to jump out at him any second.

Nobody did. Everything was silent. Dead silent.

Just what was going on?!

The manor door was cracked open.

His heart raced. That meant someone had been inside his house. HIS HOUSE. He crept forward. He put his hand on the door and pushed it all the way open. He stepped forward.

Something squished under his foot.

He looked down at what he stepped on. His stomach heaved and before he could stop it, it emptied its contents all over the ground. Vomit covered the pile of human tongues he’d stepped on.

He barfed again. Twice.

What in the HELL had happened? His heart was on fire with terror. His family? Were they safe?

They had to be safe.

They HAD to be safe.

He urged himself forwards. He headed to the receiving hall. He slowly eased the door open.

Visions of him cutting out the tongues of his house guards slammed into his mind. His stomach tightened. A vision of the terror in his sons eyes greeted him.

NO! Not his son!

He cut out his son’s tongue and laughed.

He vomited when he saw the visions of what happened to his wife and daughter.

He was so caught up in the memories of the inhumane tortures afflicted his beloved family that he didn’t even feel it when a kick to the back of his knees buckled his legs and drove him to the ground. He was too caught up in the horrors he was seeing. He vomited all that was left in his stomach out.

A rough hand grabbed him by his light brown locks and raised his head. He saw the man who was manhandling him, but his eyes look past him.

“It was wonderful fun slicing their tongues from their mouths as they tried desperately to break free. It was heavenly,” the voice said in a disgusting saccharine tone. “I especially enjoyed what I did to your son,” he said.

A new vision entered Weston Ream’s mind. He screamed until his vocal chords tore. Only after that, and visions of what had been inflicted to his family played in his head a million times over, was he finally allowed to die.