"Damn! Who could have known that he would strike Ugo's head with a block torn from the wall. I even went to lengths as such to equip that bastard with that cheap sword. A fuckin' waste he is!"
Brazenly announced by Mr. Sandulto, he was on a carriage along with five other well-dressed individuals. Mr. Hector Sandulto, he is one of the nobles ruling the second eastern most division. He is a rather large individual with his seemingly endless appetite.
"Bahahaha! It is a gamble. Blast me if you thought you could win every time!"
Replied Mr. Durim who sat farthest from Mr. Sandulto, Mr. Albrecht Durim is a rich businessman under the field of weaponry trades. He is an old gentleman with a fine coat and had constantly worn dark glasses.
"Haha, regardless. The three of us lost quite the fortune on this match, have we not? Except for you that is, you must be quite happy right now huh? Mr. Hiendricks?"
Pointed out a stern-looking man with a hulking figure, Mr. Richards. He is one the thirteen generals, ranked eight, Mr. Galadot Richards.
"*smiles mockingly* No, no, It's just luck, gentlemen, luck!"
Announced Mr. Hiendricks, sarcastically humbling himself. Mr. Alexander Hiendricks, he is the youngest among the bunch with the age of 21. He is a renowned genius throughout the continent, advancing weapon designs for the military.
"Tch, cocky bastard. I bet you had your hands on this!"
Blamed Mr. Sandulto, glaring at Alexander.
"My, I wouldn't dare. I mean *snicker*, with your respectable presence, how could I? Right gentlemen?"
Mocked Alexander. Veins up Mr. Sandulto's head looked as if they were about to pop. The others giggled, trying their best not to laugh. As to finish it off, Alexander bows in a girlish manner.
At long last, had they arrived. Coming out of their carriage, standing on the higher ground to see the construction going on.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
"So, how much time do you have in mind before this project of yours is finished. Alexander?"
Asked Samson. Samson Bradley, The Court Magician, he's an old man with a goatee. Always holding onto his staff, highly respected and adored.
"Since the last eight months? Hm, about five more, Master Samson."
Replied Alexander.
"Isn't this actually pointless? I mean, can you name a country that could ever stand up to the empire? None!"
Boasted Mr. Sandulto.
"Ahh! But this view is quiet too narrow, Hector sir. What we are preparing for is that of which is beyond earthly scale."
Said Alexander. The other four's expression were all the same, confusion.
"Think, Gentlemen! What could be so great as that even our beloved empire should feel threat?!"
Alexander had this sneaky look up his eyes. Darting from one man to another, to the first one to realize.
"The Church?"
Guessed Mr. Samson
"Right you are! I never expected less from a fellow genius."
Baffled, the others were questioning them furiously about the matter.
"What do you mean by this?! Are you saying that we are to face a threat from the heavens?"
Questioned Mr. Durim.
"No sir, I do not speak of any immortal forces. But you see, human greed is such an ugly thing yet it lives inside of us. It entices us always, never extinguished."
Continued Alexander while looking down at the slaves working.
"We can never avoid that which fuels our desires. We are but humans, full of dreams and wants. Never will be satiated nor fulfilled. Those friars are human too, Sir Hector, they will prove true to my words. No matter how holy or how blessed, one will commit sins."
Explained Alexander to the dumbfounded crowd.
Reclaiming his demeanor, Mr. Samson spoke up.
"Alexander, boy. Let us discuss more of this in your little hut, up ahead. To give this conversation a tad bit more privacy."
"Of course, shall we?"
Led Alexander to the carriage once more.
...
*CRACKLE CRACKLE BOOM*
*WHOOOSHH*
A storm was underway near the coast, thunderclouds and heavy rain kept people away from the port. The unforgiving waves tore apart even the sturdiest boat on shoreline. It was one dark day.
Even so, a waggon made its way up to a cliff nearby. The shores can be seen from there, brewing a sight to see as another sailed ship capsized. They stopped not far from the cliff's edge and brought out a boy with long, black hair. He was shackled on all limbs including his neck. Only piece of cloth he had was tied around his waist.
Removing the shackles, three men brought him to the very edge. They pushed him towards his near death, then one of them spoke to another.
"Hey, do we really have to do this? His just a boy!"
They had to shout on behalf of the raging storm.
"There's no choice! We cannot disobey his orders, unless you want to join this child in his suffering."
The doubtful one lowered his head, learning he cannot defy such cruel truth. They look at the boy, hovering the weakened torch near his haggard face, showing a body riddled with scars and rotting wounds.
"I'm sorry kid! Nothing personal, were just following orders!"
Called out the guy in the middle, as if to redeem his following deeds a bit. The boy remained motionless and silent. Not a trace of life left on his mangled face.
The three nodded among themselves in approval. Finally the largest one among them stepped forward, looking at the boy with pity. He kicked him off the cliff, down to the wrathful waves below, creating a splash on the surface of the waters.
As the cold embraced his bruised body, there was no struggle with the water filling his body. His lifeless eyes looked to see what would be his grave, the seabed. As laid there softly, tired of all that he went through since the day he was born.
His memories flashed before his eyes, the short time that he had lived. But was that really living? Can a lifetime full of torture and cruelty be considered living? He could not feel his body anymore, slowly succumbing to the cold. His sight was getting hazy, his consciousness falling into the dark. Looking at the last bits of light he could see, when something swam by. Something enormous in size. But the boy could care less, he was too tired.