Markus stood against the west wall in Chief Commander Jordem’s office enjoying the show unfolding before him. Markus may have several decades full of hard feelings toward his father, and might even disagree with much of what his father did, but he also had maybe more than a little modicum of respect for the old man’s ability to orchestrate scenes like the one currently unfolding. It made Markus realize that maybe his sire still had a few things left to teach him after all.
What was happening now in Jorden’s office, of course, had been the end goal of what Markus had been trying to accomplish in his plan, but his father was doing a far more elegant job of it than he had. But then things like that were a little easier to do when you were a King. Markus tried not to think to hard on that part, because he had, after all, pissed away his chance at becoming a King, though that job came with a lot of responsibly he simply did not want. He was okay with sacrificing elegance for violence, if that meant he could live his life on his terms and not have a whole Kingdom depending on his every action and word.
In a span of a few minutes, his father had effectively ripped away all the posturing and politics to declare for all present that there was indeed a traitor in Command, that they did have an effective way to discover the traitor quickly, that Markus was absolutely working in the favor of the missing Heir albeit in a less than desirable way, and that at least three people around the table were not in on the plot against Adar.
So now, every eye was on Chief Commander Jordem, waiting for him to say the words the two Directors and Captain Dexter had said, to show that he was innocent as well. The silence stretched into almost a full minute as the Commander stood there still looking angry enough to do someone bodily harm.
“We are waiting, Commander. Declare yourself to Pledge Nador, so we can start bringing the rest of the staff in. I really don’t want this to take all night.” Director Shiperii replied from his seat at the head of the table with a distinct tone of impatience.
Before the Commander attempted to say anything, pavi spoke. “I am curious as to why someone in Command would even act out against the Heir. Wouldn’t such a thing be counterproductive to the well-being to this College? Certainly, a person wouldn’t want to drawn the Emperor’s wrath in harming the Heir that he’s committed years to finding and bringing back to his rightful home, but it could not have missed this person’s sense of reason that helping in such a plot would have devastating effects on the College’s reputation.
“It’s one thing if a lower subordinate is in the thick of it, but something else entirely, for a head of an organization to become involved in the assassination of the Emperor’s chosen successor. That would stain the entire establishment with the taint of treason, don’t you think, Chief Commander Jordem?”
Markus and every other person in the room watched as the angry expression that had dominated the Commander’s expression since Markus had entered the room quickly morph into flat out panic. Markus felt himself tense as realization washed over him. Certainly, he and the Commander had butted heads and had a terrible falling out that led to Markus’s leaving the College, but he had not truly considered him a candidate to be the traitor. What had he missed? Though clearly, pavi had picked up on it somewhere along the way.
“Is it true? Did you really give Master Meh-len the codes?” Director looked toward the Commander in shock, which pretty much was everyone else’s expression besides pavi’s.
Jordem looked like he had been physically struck by the Director, and he spat out. “I did no such thing!”
Markus felt it. That squirmy feeling inside like he might have a bout of explosive diarrhea. He had long since equated that sensation to when he heard an untruth, or when he’d eaten something highly inadvisable. Since the latter hadn’t been the case, he was confident in his next words.
“He’s lying,” Markus told the room, but by this point, he doubted anyone needed Markus’s confirmation. Jordem was doing a fine job of giving himself away, and Markus realized that pavi had never actually named Jordem a traitor. But then, Markus knew from being an interrogator how much a guilty conscious can work against a person.
The Commander’s face was back to angry again and his stance had changed to that of a man who was ready to fight his way to freedom.
“This is distressing, Jasic.” Director Foster said using Jordem’s first name. “And I am with King Rainus on this. I am having a hard time understanding why you would jeopardize the Protectorate in this way? I thought you a true College man.”
“I want to know who else is in on this,” Director Shiperii replied almost on top of Foster. “Who else in this organization are your working with? I want their names. All of them. And how much of this has been Captain Hame’s initiative?”
The Commander didn’t get a chance to answer any of the questions, if he would have cooperated at all. The forgotten and still body of Meh-len was no longer still as he rolled off the table toward Jordem’s side. The Master landed on his feet. He must have had two other carvot blades hidden on him, because Meh-len brandished them both. He tossed one to Jordem and the other he used as he rushed toward the other head of the table and cut a thin line across Director Foster’s throat.
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The Master didn’t even stop as he rounded the table and took a stab at Captain Dexter, who had only just managed to rise to his feet and stumbled back enough to miss the tip of the knife. But the Captain had moved out of the way, giving the Master enough of a clearing to make a rush for the door.
Only pavi was still standing a few steps away from the door where he’d remained for the entire revelation. Jamiss hadn’t remained still, however, as he moved lightening quick from his post, and within a few steps, he’d removed his executioner’s staff from beneath the cover of his Protector’s black coat, extended the staff to its full seven foot length, stepped in front of pavi, and activated the blue transparent shield from the staff’s core, which covered a good three feet in front of Protector and charge.
But Meh-len didn’t even make it that far, because as soon as Markus saw Master Meh-len lunge for Foster, he’d pulled his own carvot from his belt. Carvots weren’t the best throwing knives. They had too much weight in the handle and the curve of the blade was far better for cutting and ripping than gliding towards a target. Even still, Markus stepped from the wall a few paces, took careful aim with an attempt to compensate for the knife’s throwing flaws, and let it loose.
It sailed through the air and sunk deep into the Master’s chest. A look of shock was in the Master’s eyes when he felt the knife go in, because Meh-len had been too preoccupied with lunging at Dexter to see the knife coming. But a body in motion stays in motion, so the Master kept on straight for the door.
Markus met him a few feet from Jamiss’s shield, and gave the Master a side kick with his left foot. Meh-len attempted to swerve away from the incoming leg, but his body was starting to react to the blade in his chest, and the man didn’t so much as swerve as fall forward. Markus’s foot encouraged the fall to go backward, and the Master fell hard to his back with a loud exhale.
Dexter didn’t waste time as he knelt down beside the Master, grabbed the man’s hands and bound them together with narmacord he had in his pocket. He quickly did the same with the feet. Only once Master Meh-len was secure, did Dexter try to do anything about the wound in his chest.
At this point, Markus had stepped around Dexter and Meh-len to go for the armed Commander, but he found Jordem kneeling at the feet of the Director and helping to staunch the blood trickling from Foster’s throat. Thankfully, it didn’t look like a deep cut. If they could get him to a Remaker within the next few minutes, he should be alright.
Director Shiperii was on his feet and already moving in behind Jordem. The man saw the carvot the Commander placed on the table in order to help Foster. Sheperii took up the knife and slipped it in his back waistband as he went toward the other Director. Shiperii glanced at Markus.
“Get a Caretaker, Pledge,” the Director ordered, making it clear that he had the Jordem situation in hand.
Markus stopped in mid-stride and made for the exit. Jamiss had already retracted the shield, but he kept the executioner’s staff extended and ready as he stepped off to let Markus pass. Pavi did the same.
He palmed the door open, but didn’t even have to go outside as a man in a white coat was standing there with his hand halfway to the door chime. The Caretaker looked at Markus in surprise.
“The Director needs immediate attention,” Markus barked at the Caretaker.
He then stepped back, allowing the man to rush past him. Markus then walked to the spot he’d occupied along the wall and took up his post there once more.
Markus watched as the Caretaker stabilized Director Foster with a temporary medical-sealant so that he could be transported to a Remaker. While a pair of Disciples called by Dexter carried the Director away, the Caretaker squatted down to administer a medi-scan, but within moments, the Master expired. The Caretaker rose with a grim expression.
“The knife had ruptured too much of the heart muscle for repair. He never would have made it. But Director Foster should be fine after a few treatments.”
“Thank you, Caretaker Releo. Your services, as always, are appreciated.” Director Shiperii replied.
The Caretaker nodded and quickly left the room. Two more Disciples entered, again commed by Dexter, and they carefully picked up the still cooling body of Meh-len and carried him away.
Shiperii was now standing over a seated Jordem. The Commander had namacord wrapped tightly around his wrist. The man’s bloodied hands resting on the table. Dexter stood nearby as well, but with his right hand pulling back his black coat to reveal the blaster pistol holstered high on the outside of his thigh. It was a silent warning to Jordem, not to try anything else.
But the Commander did not look like he wanted to try and escape or anything else. His face had gone completely pale and looked harried like he hadn’t sleep for weeks.
“Now that all that’s taken care of,” Director Shiperii said as he walked back to sit down in the seat he’d abandoned in all the chaos, “How about you answer our questions, Jordem? I assure you, that if you cooperate, that we might be able to work something out, but you can consider your membership and status with the College gone. But there are other, more unpleasant things we can do to you, if you want to do this the hard way.”
Jordem never took his eyes off the blood on his hands, but he began to speak in a hoarse voice. “I am a loyal man. To this College. To this Kingdom. To this Empire. And even more, to my friends. Foster has been a good friend to me. I never intended for him to get hurt and I most especially did not intend for Haxley to die.”
The Commander paused for a moment, and then blew out a long breath as if he needed to expel something he’d been holding on to for far too long. “Meh-len said that they just wanted to send a warning to the Prince and maybe even find more evidence against him. I probably would have done it just because of what happened to Captain Hame. He was a good Protector that was retired way before his time. But then Meh-len showed me the evidence they have against Prince Adar, and that made my cooperation a sure thing.”