It happened when the weather cooled.

Ser Mahdek Seerner traveled from the Black Citadel in the South to meet the King in the West, where he would be sent beyond The Land of the Real to the island of Inzathoth, to become the new Master of the Citadel of the Grayguard, the guardians of the island and the passing into the main land. The men on that island protected The Land of the Real from the Mad-Black King.

Just beyond the island of Inzathoth was another island, where the Mad-Black King lived. The island at the end of the world; a place where the sun did not go. Its name was Zhagahthoth, the island with no shadow—because it was, always and forever, shrouded in darkness.

No one knew at the time, but Mahdek Seener was planning to go to this island.

No man had ever gone there and come back, but as a child he had been told that one day a dark Prince would travel there, to speak with the Mad-Black King himself, and that man would inherit the earth and kill every King in the world, liberating humanity forever. It had been only a folktale when he was a child, but as he grew older he knew that the story must come true.

And he believed that the Dark Prince was supposed to be him.

And so he traveled to meet the King of Edenfell to accept his new title as Master of Citadel for the Grayguard, with no intentions of upholding his duties.

Instead he would start a revolution.

On the day he came through the great gates of the Kingdom in Edenfell riding atop a great black stallion to greet Lord Ohmen. Mahdek's face was stern and unbending to any emotion, as it always was. The King also wore a serious face, but showed grace and respect.

"My Lord," Mahdek said respectfully from atop his horse. He was a good liar. His words rang deep and true, even though he did not mean them. Lord Ohmen was not his Lord, not truly. Mahdek Seerner had no King, at heart. He was a rebel from birth, pretending to serve Kings and Lords—but he only truly served himself.

The King said nothing as Mahdek dropped from his tall stallion.

Lord Ohmen was a large man with a thick black beard. Even if he was not the King he would be feared by most men. Yet, as they stood close to one another, Mahdek towered over the large King, nearly a foot taller, and somehow his shoulders were strikingly broader than the Kings, even though the King wore a bear’s fur over them.

The King had only heard of how great a man Ser Mahdek Seerner was, but within only a few moments of seeing him he knew all the stories were true. He needed not hear the man speak; he could see it in his face. Here was a man who did not demand respect, but would get it in spades non the less. The King could see the greatness of this man as he rode in on his great black stallion. A man so large, yet not a mindless brute like most his size. He was a great scholar.

His stern face, although emotionless, was intelligent and wise. He wore small round glasses, but his face was mighty. His brow was as thick as a turnup. His gloved hands looked like bear paws, and his eyes were wide and sharp, sharp enough to cut open a man's throat at a glance. His hair was black as the darkest night and so were the clothes he wore. The King had only heard about this man, but now he knew seen the legend in flesh. If only he had known his true intentions.

"Your Grace," Mahdek said. "How may I serve you?"

"You can do nothing for me here," the King answered. "Here you are my guest. Tomorrow you go beyond our Land, to the island of Inzathoth. You will serve us all there. So tonight we will feast."

"I hope my time at the Grayguard will leave a mark in history,” Mahdek said. “If not, at least a mark on a few men who come to know me.” He was being cute, of course. He had far greater plans than that. Lord Ohmen was none the wiser to his great scheme to take his Kingdom from him—and if he refused to join his rebelhood, to take his head as well.

Behind the King stood his wife, Lady Vienna Ohmen, and their children. His daughter Aarmata and his son Dharmatah. Named after their distant tribal ancestors. As he greeted them, he pictured—sadly—how they would all be dead soon. But a true revolution came at a price.

Lady Vienna was a brute woman with bushy eyebrows, but their children took after their father the King. Little Aarmata was thin and beautiful. She had gotten her mother’s thick eyebrows, but not her mother’s ogre-like appearance. From a young age had been training to become a ballerina. It was her greatest hope to become the best dancer in all The Land of the Real; some even saying that she would become the first female Jaunt, the dancing jesters of the gods. Little Dharmatah was also handsome, taking after his father. He spent his days sleeping and dreaming, and was said to be only good at one thing: the Game of Pillars, a strategy stone game based on war. His father noted that he would become a wise General of Westmere one day.

The King insisted on a tour of the castle. A set of steps made of polished white stone invited them halfway into the sky, and a long mezzanine went across to the other side of the castle, offering more walkways along the way that went off into different parts of the castle.

"How many men does this castle house?" Mahdek asked the King.

"Thirty thousand," he answered. "But I would not venture to guess how many rats we have in this great hall. The gods know it’s all damn infested with Oryion’s spies.”

He was speaking of Oryion Dryfus, the man they called the Rat Lord. Mahdek knew this man. They had been friends for many years at the Black Keep in The Great Citadel of the Monks, where he had studied and lived for the last ten years. In fact, that’s where all the greatest intellectuals and scholars lived.

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Oryion Dryfus, the Lord of rats, had begun breeding them from a young age. Many had thought to breed dogs and cats and farm animals, but never rats. There were already too many of those, and everyone hated them. But the young Oryion had seen potential in those small creatures. He had seen that they were clever little creatures, and so he began to breed them for their intelligence, and teach them how to do his bidding. It wasn’t until years later, as an adult, that he had eaten the mad-black ooze that he gained the ability to communicate with his rats.

“He has them in every corner of The Land of the Real, your Grace,” Mahdek said. “No Kingdom can escape the eyes of the Lord of Rats.”

“So they say. I have men working full time to hunt and kill those damned things, but they just keep popping up.”

“I’ve heard there are more rats than men on earth,” Mahdek said. “Ten times as many, perhaps. Their numbers grow by the day, and Oryion controls many of them.”

“If that’s the case,” Lord Ohmen said, “to hell with this Land! I should have Oryion’s head on a spike! One day I’ll go to war with those rats!”

“I’d love to see such a great war, Your Grace.”

The King laughed loudly. "And you, my friend, will be the first man to lead me to Oryion Dryfus, and I will have you put his head on the damn spike!"

Mahdek found it refreshing to hear a man speak so openly, and that his passion was a good sign, but now he was certain that he would have to kill Lord Ohmen when he returned from Inzathoth. Oryion Dryfus was going to play an important role in the revolution, and if Lord Ohmen wanted him dead, it would have to be him who dies. As far as Mahdek was concerned, the Lord of Rats was the most important man in the world, third to only the Mad-Black King and Lord-Monk Xhyllyus. All of these men were great men who he respected, but Lord Ohmen, the King in the North, was just another dumb King for all he cared.

As they came farther into the castle, they passed many great halls, and more stairs. Lord Ohmen showed him a throne room in the center of the castle, and the Hall of History, which was filled with more statues and art than any one man could ever know. He pointed out chambers where the highborn lords of the Kingdom of Edenfell and even from other allied territories held court and feasted and fucked, all in the same night, if they were lucky. And they were, of course.

There were great galleries, and halls lined with tapestries woven by the best weavers. The King had them brought to life again. One showed the great Qhymerian tribalmen crossing the great rivers between the Red Desert of the Real into the lands that would later be named Qhymere after their tribe and become the great Kingdom it is today.

Another told the story of how the great islands were made, although these were half-legends. Tales of giant toads the size of mountains. It was believed that when they died their giant corpse formed the islands, sprouting dark jungles. There were still toads in those jungles, although nowhere the size of their giant ancestors. The islands looked more beautiful to Mahdek than they did to Lord Ohmen.

It told the story of how the Mad-Black King had been cursed to never leave the island, but was given absolute power to see anything in the world from where he was. Nobody truly knows the true extent of his power, or why he was cursed to never leave the island. Some say he had made a deal with the gods after eating the mad-black ooze of the toads back, as many men have.

And it told the tale of every other great kingdom and tribe in The Land of the Real. Tales of great men and great wars, and even the rebelhoods that sought to kill kinds and destroy kingdoms for no other reason than a hatred of authority and power. These were the stories that Mahdek Seerner loved.

“This is the Great Hall of the Gods,” the King said, as they walked into the next section of the castle. The walls were covered with paintings of all the different gods of the Land of the Real, and the ceiling was painted white and blue with the eyes of the many eyed god, The Great Watcher.

“You must have the best artists in the world to paint such glorious pictures, Your Grace,” Mahdek said.

“Not I,” the King said. "Such artists belong to the Land of the Real. As do great men such as yourself, Ser Mahdek."

After the tour of the castle the King had two of his most beautiful whores escort Ser Mahdek to his chamber to unwind before their big feast. He found that one of the girls had a nice voice, so she had this one read to him while he fucked the other.

After his fuck, one of the whores wanted to show him the view of the city from the castle. He went with her, so that he could listen to her soothing voice as she told him about the city.

She led him through the halls until they came to a large window looking out over the city of Edenfell. On the far side of the wall was a tall spire with windows at every level, and she led him between them until they stood on the roof.

Below him there were thousands of men, women, and children, and all the animals too, walking and riding about their business. It was one of the greatest cities in the Land of the Real. It was a shame that it would be under fire soon, as he returned to take the Kingdom for the coming rebelhood. It did not have to be that way, but he knew they would fight, even after their King was dead, and he hung his severed head over the city. He could picture it now, as he looked out over the entire city from the top of the castle. He could picture the King's head hanging down from the sky as the fire licked the King's beard.

He looked across the narrow river to the further part of the city on the northern bank, and beyond that, on a hill above the river, the Temple of the Monks. These temples were found in every city in the Land of the Real. The Great Citadel of the Monks was the largest one, where he had been studying for the last ten years before coming here, planning his future rebelhood and drinking the mad-black ooze of the toadage as the Monks did.

And on the other side were the great fortress walls. The city was much bigger than he had thought, somehow. When he took the city he would not reign from atop this castle, but he would be among the people. He did not want to rule over them, but guide them into a future where they were not ruled by one King, but given the choice to have a great council of wise men, who would live among them, and work alongside them, and fight alongside them, and share with them their knowledge, and they would all drink the mad-black ooze of the great toadage and speak with the gods. They would be the best of men and women. This was the future he wanted.

Suddenly he turned and grabbed the whore. The thought of taking the King’s head had made him horny again. He pushed her against the side of the stone railing and pulled the veil of her dress up exposing her ass. She made light moaning sounds over the edge as he began to thrust.

He wanted to hear her voice again. “Say my name,” he said.

“Oh Ser Mahdek!” she moaned, her voice loud enough so that someone could hear below.

“Call me Lord,” he said, his vicious voice booming out into the sky like rumbling thunder.

“Lord Mahdek… Lord Mahdek… Oh Lord Mahdek!”

He stared out into the sunsetting city as he fucked her, and as he came inside her he imagined his victory over the kingdom.

Lord Mahdek.