Sandorn was not used to feeling small. He was sure Averan was not used to it either, unlike him however Averan seemed to be enjoying the fact, which only served to infuriate Sandorn further.
They’d ordered the Clans to a meeting. They needed their men, and as Amata it was in their right to call on them. Still, the underground was not known for its organisational skills. They’d even complained about being called to a meeting. Sandorn was content to let them complain but Averan sought a different tact. He’d heard the rumors of the Mountain twins, two young brutes escaped from the fighting pits of Lentar and now somehow in the employ of Clan Urda. Averan was instantly fascinated. All it had taken was a slight prod and his brother had challenged the twins to a fight. A fight set up as an opener to the Meeting. No weapons, no armor, just one set of twins against another. Averan claimed it as being a good opportunity for them to bond with their men. In reality, Sandorn knew it was more his brother’s penchant for challenges and thrill than any machinations.
Forgetting the risk it posed, should they lose then they had no chance of getting the Clans on board with their idea, Sandorn did not see it as being the most productive way of spending their time with so much going on around them.
He ducked underneath yet another savage swing from the twin he’d been paired against, Bedt. He was the older of the two in much the same way Sandorn was the oldest of him and Averan.
Whipping around him Sandorn jabbed back hard, straight onto the mountain boy’s nose. Again his opponent walked right through it, seemingly completely unfazed.
The mountain people were notorious for their brute strength and nature. Preferring brawn over brain, life was not easy up on the hills. It did make them into formidable warriors, however. What skill they lacked they more than made up for in raw power. Sandorn wished he had his swords now, but Averan had insisted on beating the Mountain twins in the most entertaining way possible. Which also happened to be the most savage way.
Rolling away from the increasingly irate Bedt Sandorn spied Averan busy contending with the other twin, known as Sedt. The two of them were locked in a clinch, seemingly taking turns pounding the other into the chest with knees and fist.
Averan was smiling, the sight filled Sandorn with more annoyance. He’s loving this. Sandorn however had had enough.
The mountain in front of him was burly, freakishly so. Sandorn had blood of the Chimera running strong in his veins, he was stronger and faster than any normal man. And yet the man in front of him was still as aggressive and frustrating as he had been when they’d begun fighting over 8 minutes ago. He’d already landed a few glancing blows and Sandorn had no desire to feel a full one.
It would need something special to halt him. Fortunately, he had it.
He felt the Beast rising inside of him, Sandorn let it flow almost completely over him, then just as his body was going to give in he stopped and held it. It was a precarious balance. A skill that few mastered, even amongst Chimereans. Averan still struggled with it, usually pushing too far and taking on his full Chimera form.
Sandorn however had control of his. The half form. He could control what and how much of the Beast came over him. He allowed it to seep into him now, just a fraction, just enough. Enough to flow from his core into his arm and down into his fist. The entire process took him only a matter of seconds. As Bedt came charging back at him yet again he brought his hand up in a vicious uppercut. The man mountain had brushed aside his earlier efforts. He did not brush aside this one. Those who were watching carefully might have seen Sandorn’s fist curl into a paw before he struck. Fortunately, the men of the clans cared little for the small details. Only blood interested them.
The uppercut sent Bedt flying. He fell hard crashing back against one of the cellar’s many columns. The location for their meeting with the Clan Leaders was typical for the underground. A gambling den not far from the Manor they now called home. One of the former Amata’s favorites.
Turning Sandorn saw Averan and the other Mountain twin still battling, Averan had worked his way onto the man’s back but was struggling to keep him down.
He had almost gotten back to his feet when Sandorn came in and fly-kicked him across the face. Sedt fell limplessly off to the side.
Averan groaned between heavy breaths.
“You cheated?” he whispered, “That’s bollocks and you know it.” Averan shook his head, “We could have taken them. I was about to pin mine.”
Sandorn rolled Sedt over onto his side to make sure he still breathed. Whatever had brought the two mountain men into the services of Clan Urda he didn’t know but he was willing to double or triple the price to get them into his own. Unskilled or not men like them were valuable to have around.
“You were about to get thrown off. We would have been all night fighting with those two. I had to do something. We don’t have time for games Brother. Come on, help your man up.”
Sandorn went over to where Bedt still lay. Shaking him awake he hauled him onto his feet. Together they dragged the twins into the center.
Clan Urda’s leader Urron had already gotten up to congratulate them.
“A fine win for the twins.” He laughed hard at his rhyming, “A fine win indeed. What do you say, shall we have a few more fights before business?”
“Well that depends on what kind of fights are you propo-”
“No,” Sandorn interjected, “though your offer is appreciated I am afraid we have other matters to attend to. Let us and the other Clan Leaders head to the back.”
Averan called for a round of drinks as he joined Sandorn putting back on his armor.
“Your being a bit hasty aren’t you? We have time for a few drinks.”
Sandorn sighed, “We will have time, after we are made the true rulers of Gorias once more. Until then, no we don’t have time for a few drinks. And actually what do you even mean Averan? You’ve already had a few drinks today.”
Averan shrugged, “Alright then a few more I mean.”
“Later brother. Later. We will enjoy things together. Soon.”
The back of the den was dark, the only source of light coming from three candles hanging up over the room. Sandorn waited until all five of the Clan leaders were in before motioning for Fenadorn to close the door.
Clan Daroch, led by their new leader Rundel, a nephew of old Ru. Sorden, the leader of Clan Seetha. Lyonad of Clan Lyson and Prahn of Clan Pryn. And of course their host, Urron.
Sandorn saw no point in wasting any more time.
“We are going to kidnap Commander Grevus.”
“Grevus?” Lyonad asked, “Is this a joke? You are asking us to kidnap the highest-ranked City Guard in Gorias?”
“Who’s asking?” Averan replied. “This is no request. This is an order.”
“An order?” Urron laughed, “This ain’t the citadel Twins, and we no soldiers. You can order as you please, we have our own minds.”
“Besides,” Sorden began, “What reason is there for this madness? What good could kidnapping the Commander do for us?”
Sandorn waited for the voices to die down, letting the focus drift back to him.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“We are no ordinary Twins. Me and Averan are special-”
Lyonad scoffed, “Yes, yes we all know about you and the Beasts. It’s hardly a secret amongst us. Whoever your Mother slept-”
Averan took a step towards Lyonad. “What was that?”
“Ahh, haha yes no I mean,” Lyonad glanced around at the worried expressions on the other clan leaders faces. They all knew about old Ru.
“I mean we all know that some blood of the Chimera flows in you. We both know, and more importantly respect those powers. Me, more than anyone, I have some blood of the Kings flowing in my family too. Actually, if you look at my eyes like this,” Lyonad tilted his head and began widening his eyes, “You can almost see the tinge of gold in the blue.”
“Ah yes,” Sandorn smiled, “You think us Bastards. I suppose that would be more fitting for the Leaders of the Underground. However, the rumors are mistaken. We have no trace of the Blood of Kings, we are the Blood of Kings. Sandorn and Averan of House Aureate.”
Confusion spread around the room.
“So we’re to believe you are the Twins? The famous last line of Aureate. Aren’t you supposed to be dead for 10 years. We’re to believe you are them appeared before us now are we? Based on what exactly? There are many up in the High city with similar powers, and a few down here besides. I hate to break it to you boys but I don’t think you are all that special.”
The other clan leaders mumbled agreement at Prahn’s words. Now oldest after the death of Ru he had grown the wealthiest of the clans outside of the Twins and his sway was substantial amongst them.
“Look at us.” Averan said as he stood up before them. “Look at the armor we wear, the weapons we carry. Look at Fenadorn our protector and the twenty which accompany him. These are things we have always had, even before we took over Clan Rardan. We are no Bastards, we are sons of Devran Aureate, son of Savar Aureate, younger brother to Avern Aureate the last King of Gorias.”
Sandorn saw by their faces that none were moved.
“Very well then, it seems our word is not enough, nor our deeds. Perhaps then this will help you see.”
Fenadorn waved Tharv forward and took the small chest from him. Though they tried to hide it Sandorn saw the interest, the slight shift in their seat, the raised eyes.
Fenadorn played his role perfectly, every twist of the lock a dramatic movement, every sound a build-up. By the time he was ready to open it the room watched on with bated breath.
The opening did not disappoint. The room, so dimly lit was immediately illuminated in a blaze of brilliant light as the crown of Kings was revealed to the room.
Sandorn waited, ensuring every last drop of the crowns’ glory etched itself in the minds of the clan leaders. Each one of them was wealthy, powerful in their own way. Their quarter their small kingdom, their clan their army. Small but significant.
But none of them would have even seen such a sight. The crown was made complete with jewels from beyond the dividing Seas. An early creation from the first of the wealth brought to Gorias from the beyond.
Averan moved slowly and gently picked up the crown. Sandorn bent his head as his brother placed the crown upon his head. It was the first time he had ever worn it. But he did not feel its weight. It felt good, natural. It was his ancestor's birthright. It was his.
The clan leaders could have argued, could have continued with their doubts. But the crown was more than a pretty trinket. It held power, it was more than a crown. It was a symbol.
“Kings,” Rundel whispered. “Can it be?”
“It can,” Averan confirmed. “And our plans do not end with being Lords of the Underground. We have grander ambitions. Which, should you aid us would render grand rewards.”
“What kind of rewards?” Lyonad asked.
Sandorn hid his smile, whatever they might believe or not believe the promise of riches and power would go a great deal of the way to bring the Clans on their side.
“As my Brother said, we have big plans for Gorias. When we succeed… and we will. We will no longer be able to continue as Lords of the Depths. New Lords will have to be chosen amongst you. Peacefully,” he added upon seeing some of their reactions.
“That also means that the three-quarters given to us will need to be divided. Equally shared between you five. That includes all dens, warehouses and everything else along with it. Overnight all of you will become a great deal richer. That and we’ll need help regulating down here. Some of the old city guard will need replacing. We need commanders wise to the lower city and able to fight. Opportunities will arise. Many of them.”
Sandorn stopped to let his words sink in. He could read a room. The men of the underground were ambitious, getting richer or obtaining a lofty influential position in the watch interested them. But becoming the new Lord of the Depths was to them what restoring House Aureate was to him and Averan. He doubted any changeover could be peaceful. But so long as they held together long enough to help him retake the throne he could deal with the issue of who leads until later.
“Very well, you made your points. Some good ones too,” Sorden began.
“Now then, you said something about the Commander. Grevus is no friend of ours, he pushes us more than most. I for one am happy to deal him harm. But why? And how are we to do this?”
“The Commander Grevus as you said, has always been an enemy to the underground. He evidently recognises that we are trying to grow in both power and status and seeks to destroy that. We’ve learned that there is to be a raid and eliminate against all clans and quarters two days from now. We can’t allow that to happen.”
Averan spoke firmly, Sandorn was impressed with how convincing he was in the lie.
The leaders of the clans shared looks, each trying to gauge the other. Sandorn decided to press ahead.
“We know where and how we can capture Grevus. Averan will lead a group there personally. Meanwhile, I will lead a separate assault on his family. Once we have both we’ll need a safe place to lay low. A well-guarded place.”
“How many men are we going to need exactly? Grevus will not be easy to get to, even if you know where he’ll be. As for the Family, I reckon they’ll be an even harder prospect.”
Sandorn nodded at Rundel’s words.
“All true, which is why we need to work together. I’ll need the 10 best men of each clan, the 50 of them plus 25 of our best will be enough. Once we have everyone together we’ll decide who goes where. Our tasks are different, 5 with me, 20 with Averan and the other 50 to secure our holding spot.”
“Which is where exactly?” Sorden asked.
Sandorn smiled, “Which is somewhere secure, somewhere we have carefully chosen to carry out what needs to be carried out.”
“I see, have it your way then,” Prahn eyed Sandorn, you’ll need these men by tomorrow?”
“We will.”
“I can manage it.” Prahn confirmed.
“I can manage it.” Rundel added.
“I can too.” Lyonad said.
“I can manage it also.” Urron stated.
“Same,” Sorden finished.
“Best not to meet at our manor, there are eyes watching us. Instead, each of you get your men down to the docks, we’ll have people waiting there to guide them to where they need to be.”
Sandorn waited to see if there were any objections to their meeting points. Thankfully none arrived.
“Very well then, best put that crown of yours away brother. Seems like we’ve got a busy few days ahead of us. What say we have a few more fights just to see us off? Fenadorn, we any that good mead left?”
“A bit.”
“Good, right so,” Averan clapped his hands. “Urron, you mentioned a few fights you had lined up.”
Sandorn waved Averan out and he gladly led the way with the Clan leaders streaming out after him. They nodded at him one by one as they passed, the closest thing he would get to a bow from Clan Leaders.
He didn’t mind. All in all things had gone well. Though each clan would have about 50 men in their service, most of them were little more than thugs, unused to any real fighting or skill at arms. Sandorn wasn’t worried, however. Every clan always left the brunt of its more specific work to a chosen few, they were bound to have at least 10 professionals.
75 men, it was not a lot to accomplish what they needed to accomplish. But they would make it work, Lords of the Underground. Soon those above will see just what those beneath are capable of.
Sandorn took off the crown reluctantly and passed it back to the waiting Fenadorn. He could not wear it openly. For now, it had to stay hidden. But the day was coming when he would hide no more. As Averan called out for him to join them Sandorn smiled, that day is coming.