Scipio was both furious and afraid. He was racing to get to the cavern so he could send Malliphina into the capital. As he passed the outskirts of the city, as houses gave way to fields and vineyards, he felt a little more at ease. He knew of the horsemen of the Ohlsbach, but he had not factored them into his estimations. Neven forces heavily focused on infantry. Horsemen were good for scouting and chasing down routing enemies. He had no idea what devastation heavy cavalry could wreak on an unsuspecting unit of foot soldiers.
As he thought back on the scene in the street, he realised he had badly underestimated Marius’ tactical ability. A peasant. How is it a rube bested him? A farm boy? His arrogance refused to accept that people not born within his class were capable. He felt nothing but contempt for any person beneath him.
The carriage turned right, and as he peered through the curtain, he could see the gate to his estate. The carriage continued along the path to his expansive villa. It slowed down, however Scipio did not even wait for it to stop, before he pulled the curtain aside and stepped onto the ground, a decision he regretted immediately.
He cursed as he felt a pain shoot through his ankle, which had rolled awkwardly as he landed. With tentativeness, he tested his weight on it. Relief settled his mind. He had not broken it. Stepping off, he limped toward the cave. Every step was pain, as his sprained ankle swelled. Eventually, clothes becoming wet from profuse sweating and thoroughly annoyed, he reached the cavern entrance.
The cool air inside made him shiver slightly, as the contrast from the heat of the rising Nevan sun gave way to the chill air caressing his sweaty skin and damp clothes. Scipio was no longer annoyed; he was angry. He limped deeper into the tunnel, past the cells and into the spacious cavern at the back of it. Standing eerily still in the dark sigil, back toward him, was the priestess’ body containing the demon Malliphina.
She didn’t move, but spoke to him. “Scipio, what is it you want?”
“I need you to take the senate building. My plan is foiled. That peasant bastard returned! He was supposed to go die like a good little soldier, but he came back and ruined everything.”
“What if I don’t want to? You don’t treat me nice, Scipio. What is a lady to do?” Malliphina turned slowly, sensuously, facing him with a lustful expression that was an indication not of carnal desire, but of hunger to consume. Drawing out her words, she continued speaking as she raised her arms in a languid stretch. “What is my… incentive? Oh, your man… Bruno… Give him to me. I know he will taste… so… go-od, mmm.”
She licked her lips hungrily as her body shuddered from wondering how he would taste. Her hands caressed her body, her left cupping her breast, as her other hand moved up her inner thigh.
Scipio shuddered, barely hiding his disgust. He was thoroughly grateful that she was in his thrall, as per the laws of the summoning. She was a demon, however, and as such, a master manipulator. One thing that plagued her kind was the perpetual hunger driving them to consume life. Although they could not attack their summoners, they could refuse to obey, and so they bargained. He sighed. Peasant though Bruno was, he felt some regard for him. With contempt, he looked at the creature as she lay on her back and stretched languidly. “Fine. But I need everyone in the Senate dead, no exceptions, no excuses. I need it done.”
“Good boy. Now. Go get my food… mm!”
Shaking his head in disgust, Scipio limped out of the cavern as the thing’s breath became heavier, its moaning louder and more frequent. He would send Bruno to her with a bucket of water for her to wash herself. That should keep him from getting suspicious.
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
Viggin sat at his desk, poring over correspondence from various officials and nobles from around his country. A soft knock at his door pulled his attention from the documents he was perusing. He had just set aside a letter from his father, outlining he had set out to invade and annex Bruderman and bring it temporarily under the King’s governance.
“Enter.”
The chamberlain entered, doffing his baggy black hat. “I just received this despatch, Your Grace.” He handed the grand duke a scroll held closed by red wax stamped with the ornate Skordian royal seal.
“Thank you. Is that the only one?”
“Were you expecting another?”
“More like hoping to hear from Thayn. No matter. Wait a moment, would you?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
He cracked the seal, opened the letter, and began reading.
Our dear brother Viggin Uldenson, Grand Duke of Holvela, and Crown Prince of all Halderlands,
We were made aware of and were greatly distressed by the attempted coup that threatened your life and the stability of your realm. In response to this outrage, We have mobilised Our huscarls and all available fighting men willing to serve. We have also issued a decree of expulsion to all Brudermen within our realm. We felt that, although extreme, this course was prudent as Harolf has shown Us that neither he, nor his people, can be trusted at this moment in time. We stand by to support you, should you need Us.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
On a lighter note, it is little Heidris’ birthday soon. Please write her a letter and I shall read it to her.
Stay strong, Viggin. You have the right of this.
With warmest regards,
Ilsa Ravensdotter, Duchess of Skord.
Viggin sighed, and with a slight smile began penning his responses, starting with a letter to Heidris. The letter he wrote to his niece was congratulatory and included a promise to bring her a gift the next time he saw her. The other letter requested a meeting to strategize.
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
In the frigid waters of the Jergrid Sea, the Ustad fleet spread out to avoid collisions in the choppy sea. Hundreds of Ustad ships moved across the endless waves. The king’s sailors leaned over the windward side, keeping their vessels on as even a keel as possible. Sails pulled taut, reaching along to land on Bruderman shores as soon as they could. They were ripping along at a respectable twelve knots in these brutal, icy winds.
Ulden’s face looked grim as a black storm cloud, heartsick at what he was forced to do. His own son and the betrayal of his actions had deeply wounded him. He would love nothing more than to forgive him. But as king, he could exempt no one the punishment for treason. Not even family. Tears leaked from his one functioning tear duct. Although the men could see his tears, he felt no shame. They understood, they knew what this journey was about.
He had been at sea two days. If this wind persisted, they could make landfall in four or five more days. His thought dwelled on whether the Brudermen would resist or recognise their king’s dominion over them and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. He prayed to the Gods that it would be the latter. He did not wish to be at war with his own people.
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
After the bloodbath in the main street of the Empire’s capital, the knights fell in behind the Hovelans with Marius’ centur out in front once more. They marched to the senate building and peeled off in both directions at the base of the steps. Orn and his family with Briga, Marius, Darius and his wife climbed the steps with the two prisoners in tow.
At the entrance to the building, more senate guards attempted to block their path. One look from Vylder had them melting out of the way. It was apparent that these glorified doormen were not the senate guard’s best, as they were not among those that faced them on the street. The group moved through the entrance, heading to the senate chamber.
The senate was in session, when Marius marched straight to the centre of the chamber, followed closely by the Orn and his group. There were some gasps and angry comments fired toward the sudden interruption that quickly dissipated when realisation dawned as to the source.
The magistrate, in an attempt to assert his authority, said in a haughty tone, “What is the meaning of this? Censor Scipio Calguri has been declared dictator. Why are you not leading our forces? And what are these barbarians doing in our most sacred of…”
He trailed off mid-tirade as a young blonde woman stood before him. His eyes widened and then he fell grovelling at her feet, apologising profusely. She turned to Marius, wearing an enigmatic smile. “You may speak your piece, my child.”
Marius’ face, creased with a bemused smile, regarded the strange interaction between the young woman and the magistrate. “You would call me ‘your child’? I am old enough to be your grandfather, dear girl. But I thank you.” Marius then turned to address the chamber. “My fellow Nevans, we have been deceived! Scipio Calguri is a criminal. This entire situation we are in, including the declaring war, was all due to his manipulation.”
Senator Luvium stood red-faced and indignant. “How dare you malign Censor Scipio Calguri’s good name! He has been a calm and steady hand, guiding us through these turbulent times!”
“Ah, well, clearly we know who your paymaster is.”
“What proof do you have of these accusations?”
“We have victims, witnesses, and perpetrators.”
“Nonsense! These people could be paid actors for all we know! Guards, arrest these interlope…” In two quick steps, Vylder had moved to Luvium, snatched him off his feet by his throat and began crushing his throat. Briga rolled her eyes and, touching Vylder’s arm, gave him a look that convinced him to drop the man. Luvium scrambled back away from the enormous man, his voice strained, demonstrating his inability to learn lessons. “This is an outrage! I demand his execution! How dare he put his hands on a member of our illustrious…” He was once again cut off. This time, Venna had taken three quick steps over to him and put his lights out with a shield strike on the forehead. There were several gasps from the assembled men in the chamber, shocked by the speed and efficiency of the woman’s movement.
Marius, unperturbed, walked over to Vannur and whipped the sack from his head before continuing. “This man here was a member of the crew who raided the island of Sofjorland.”
He then whipped the bag off of Gracchus’ head. “And this man was the captain of the vessel that Scipio Calguri paid to conduct the raid.”
Walking to stand next to Darius, Marius gestured to him. “This is Praetor Darius Decimus of Raugus, who investigated the local fighting pits and discovered the location of the surviving Holvelan captives. Those captives included this man, Vylder Avdlak, who you may have heard rumours of. You most likely know of him as ‘the Black Bear’. And this young man is his son, Orn, who witnessed Senator Crassus Agular leading an attack on the praetor’s home.”
Marius allowed the information to soak into the assembled senators and then glared at Luvium. “You demanded proof? Let us put it to the test.” Grabbing Gracchus, he pushed him to his knees in front of Vylder. He then crouched in front of him and spoke in a low voice for him only. “You best tell the truth. I hear that our rather well-proportioned friend here wanted to test his grip on your head. I will let him if I think for a moment you have lied.”
Orn approached Marius and whispered to him. “Where is Scipio?”
“That is a good question.” Marius stood and turned to address the senate. “Where is Scipio?”
The senators in the chamber talked amongst themselves, while Luvium lay unconscious. Grillo approached and said to Marius, “He went outside when he learned of your arrival on the docks. I dare say his attempt to stop you resulting in an obvious failure led him to decide on flight as his next course of action.”
“We need to reverse the damage he has wrought here, starting with ceasing our war footing. This war is based on pure lies, to satisfy the ambitions of a criminal who is, frankly, a disgrace to the office he holds.”
The senate chamber had fallen silent as the assembled members strained to hear the exchange between the two friends. Grillo turned and shouted at the now silent senators. “Nevans! Peace with the Halders! All those in favour sound your ‘ayes’.”
The chamber erupted with a resounding ‘aye’. “All those against, make your ‘nays’ heard.” In the presence of the people they would face in this war, not a single senator dared voice it. “Well, we now have peace!”
No sooner had the words left Gillo’s mouth, a messenger burst into the senate chamber. He was puffing from the exertion of running. “There is a huge mob of people and soldiers coming! We need to evacuate!”