Duke Thayn had joined Jarl Sigtrin for lunch, and he was chatting amicably with Brenda and her daughter, Selti. They heard a slight commotion on the jetty near the vessel. They all stood, leaning over the gunwales, trying to get a better look at what was happening.
Two burly Holvelan sailors approached the ship, dragging between them a small man. Thayn smiled a broad smile as he recognised the individual being dragged to the ship.
“We found this one in the Tavern. We thought we should invite him to join us,” one sailor quipped.
Thayn chuckled. “That is good news. He left us so abruptly that, sadly, we didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. Welcome, Vannur. Oh, I have an idea! Why don’t you men show him some Holvelan hospitality? Don’t damage him too much, mind. Just tie him to the mast…” He turned and with a mock expression of surprise pointed amidships. “Would you look at that? It just so happens we have a perfect mast right here. Come, come, make use of it.”
He turned to Jarl Sigtrin and quipped, “Do we have room for one more guest?”
Sigtrin, joining in on the banter, responded, “Why, of course. I like to think I am a good host, and I am, if anything, always accommodating.”
“Wonderful! Men, once he is secure, could you go fetch Shufi for me? Thank you.”
The men took off along the jetty. After they had left, with an expression of barely contained outrage, Brenda said, “I remember him. Venna and Orn captured him after the attack. At the same time, they brought a six-year-old boy with an arrow through him. The hostage they used to force Vylder to surrender.” Tears of anger come unbidden to her eyes. Sigtrin immediately went to her side to comfort her.
Thayn noticed that Selti was trembling, so he moved over to her and said, “Do not worry, you are safe, young Selti. He is secure, and if anything happens, we have ships patrolling nearby, and so we will put to sea.” She nodded and thanked him, as she visibly relaxed.
Shufi arrived and Sigtrin waved him aboard. Shufi approached Thayn, looked at Vannur, and spoke to Vannur in Nevan. “Ah, so nice of you to come back to us. Did you have a pleasant journey?”
Vannur didn’t respond. He merely stared at his feet. Brenda rounded on Shufi. “Ask him about the boy. I want to know if he was the one who shot the boy, or if he was there.”
Shufi looked at Thayn, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Then Shufi approached Vannur. “There was a boy on the Sofjorland beach where you were captured. Did you shoot him, or were you there when he was struck by an arrow?”
Vannur looked at him quizzically and asked, “What boy? I don’t recall any boy.”
Shufi looked back at Brenda and shook his head. Thayn walked over and told Shufi to translate his words. Shufi complied, verbatim, “You came to our lands. You took part in the murder of my brother’s people, and you took Haldermen for slaves. Since you escaped, we will no longer turn you over to your people. The question now is, will your punishment be to inflict upon you that which you inflict upon others, and make you a slave? Or will you ‘Become the Dragon’ and be displayed for all your people to see?”
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
The Senators had cast their votes, and they were tallied. It was one hundred and seven ‘ayes’ to ninety-two ‘nays’ and one abstention from Senator Corrus Agular. The ‘ayes’ had it. The Nevan Empire was now at war with the Halder nations.
There was a sober silence in the senate chamber, as was tradition when they voted on such a weighty matter. But Grillo could see the sneer on Scipio’s face, and some of the less savoury men of the senate positively salivating with glee, particularly those for whom their income is mostly from the slave trade, and other ventures that profit from suffering.
Scipio walked out of the chambers as other senators began filing out. The emergency session was over and would reconvene on Moonday.
“Dark days, my friend,” Marius said to Grillo.
“Dark days indeed. How much gold do you think Scipio spread about to get the vote his way?”
“Oh, not as much as you would think. I believe he uses extortion and blackmail, mostly. It’s where I suspect most of the gold that he can spread around comes from.”
“What I wouldn’t give for solid proof of that…” Grillo sighed wistfully.
“Well, I need to go tell my wife, and then start preparing. Duty is duty, no matter how distasteful.”
Grillo turned to him and was about to say something, but instead, pulled Marius into a tight embrace before pulling back and saying, “Be safe, my friend. Control the field, don’t lead from the front. We need you more now than ever. That slimy prick will declare an emergency, and no doubt declare himself dictator, as was, I believe, his intent all along. Damn that man! Damn his eyes!”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Don’t be too concerned, my old friend. We may pull back from the brink yet. The legions have no love for Scipio. Especially with how the Senate guard is basically in his pocket.”
“Is that so?”
“I still have my finger on the pulse of the legions, old boy. The Senate guard’s prestige is tarnished, and the rank and file no longer aspire to be one. They are very much resented, hence the guard ranks are being backfilled with mercenaries that swear their loyalty to him alone. The entire unit is basically made up of criminals and thugs.”
“Well, I don’t see how that helps us now.”
“I have command of all legions. So I will ensure a good portion of them are the tip of the spear. The rest we will deal with once we have got past this madness.”
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
Malliphina’s thralls moved through the alleys of the poorer parts of Disipica. Each with a glint in their eyes and the smile of someone who hurts people and enjoys doing it. Some splashed pitch on the walls, some were on the rooves spreading the viscous liquid as much as they could. Anywhere they thought would catch and spread, in every part of the city that was out of the way, run-down, neglected or sparsely occupied while the games were underway.
And there she walked among them, carrying a closed lantern. Wearing the vestments of a priestess of Agrippa. A sway of her hips accompanied each measured, sinuous step in an alluring display of seduction. That same smile plastered on her beautiful youthful face, framed by long, dark, curly hair. However, there was no glint in her eyes. For there were no eyes there at all, only two vacancies, two small entrances to the void that were, at one time, chocolate-coloured eyes .
She walked to the edge of the building, the feral smile splitting her once innocent and beautiful face. The pair of vacant sockets gazed with longing for the souls that they would soon consume, and threw the lantern which struck the side of the building. The glass sides shattered, igniting the pitch the puppets she controlled had spread. From her mouth, peels of maniacal laughter echoed down the street as flames spread quickly all around her.
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
Venna, Orn and Erik had just watched a particularly brutal match-up between two slaves. Some people rushed out into the pit to drag away the corpse of the unfortunate opponent as the victor exited the arena.
Orn had been moving around the crowd, subtly asking questions to find out where they kept the fighters before the match. Unfortunately, his foreign look, clothing and larger than average size made anyone he spoke with suspicious of him.
Then he heard it. In Nevan the announcer called out, “And now, citizens of The Empire, do we have a spectacle for you! In this match up, we have twelve members of Adrian Ladium’s guard against the Dark Man and the Black Bear!”
A door opened in the wall of the pit across from them, and a large black-haired man with a tall dark-skinned man walked out into the centre of the arena in the sand.
The crowd suddenly roared, cheers from the voices of the thousands in attendance, and the sound of thousands of stomping feet. Orn’s eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped open as saw his father. He snapped out of his shock and raced back toward where Erik and Venna were.
A cacophony erupted as the crowd suddenly roared, cheers from the throats of the thousands in attendance, and the sound of thousands of stomping feet. Venna’s face paled, and she exclaimed as she grabbed Erik tightly. Erik struggled in his mother’s iron grip and said, “I see him Mother, can you let go? I can hardly breathe!”
Orn unstrapped his shield from his back as he leapt down the aisle steps three at a time. He held His shield above his head, slightly sloping it forward. Then he clasped his mother’s shoulder with his free hand to get her attention. Unable to fully control the voice when he was emotional, when Orn spoke, all in the arena could hear it. He said, “Erik, put your arms around our shoulders. Mother, hold your shield exactly as mine is.”
Suddenly, the arena was silent. Everyone was looking around to see where that voice came from. “What are you doing?” asked Erik in alarm as Venna looked at Orn quizzically while she readied her shield.
“We’re going to jump. Now grab on and hold tight.”
With that, Orn, Erik and Venna stood up on the barrier between the seating and the sheer twenty-foot drop and leapt off the barrier into the arena. As they stepped off the barrier, the upward wind caught the upheld shields of Orn and Venna, and with Erik holding on between them, they glided down toward the centre of the pit floor. They separated just before landing and tumbled forward, drawing their weapons as they came back up onto their feet in a fighting stance.
They surrounded the tall man next to Vylder, when Vylder suddenly said, “Venna? Boys? What are you doing here? How are you here?”
“None of that matters. We’re getting you out of here. Now let us deal with this one.”
“Wait, love, he is with me! He is coming with us.”
Mswali’s eyes widened. “This is your family?” As he asked this, the announcer yelled in Nevan. The crowd went crazy, trying to figure out this spectacular entrance. Were these interlopers part of the show? Or was something else was happening?
Orn warned, “We can do introductions later. We have company.” As he said this, the doors opened and columns of arena guards started pouring in. The five of them formed an outward-facing circle in reaction to the forces surrounding them.
“Don’t worry, Father, I have got this,” said Orn.
A Nevan’s voice shouted over the din. “Throw down your weapons and surrender. There is no way out. You cannot win.”
“Get behind our shields,” Orn said to Erik and Mswali. He then spoke in the voice. “I am here to liberate my father. This man who you call the ‘Black Bear’ was illegally taken from our homeland, in violation of the treaty between your empire and the Halder people. Stand down, and clear our path, or you will know my wrath!”
The Nevan’s voice laughed. “Kill them!”
Orn focused his mind and started pulling air from around the arena. He sent it into a spiral, faster and faster. Sand was swept up as wind whipped around the circular pit. The men surrounding them hunkered down, squinting against the sand, stinging every piece of exposed skin on their body. Small cuts appeared over their bodies, and then the wind started forcing them into each other.
The people in the crowd started panicking. Many began climbing over each other, trying to escape the stands. The men outside of Orn’s circle were now being tossed about like leaves. Blown by the cyclic wind roaring around the arena. Orn knelt down, and then stood tall, raising his sword as the wind lifted all the men and threw them up into the stands. He let the wind dissipate and roared, “Now you know!”