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Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1)

Page 24

by Pasquariello, Jonathan


  He knew, from previous experience, how the prisoners were organized. He had to serve a season as a guard, back in his basic training—worst days of his life. The protocol was to place the quickest turnover prisoners closest to the door while prisoners with elongated sentences were pushed back farther and farther into the dark tunnel. He was right at the front—number one, closest to the door. They expected him to be taken away very quickly.

  Being so close to the door, he could hear the guards bantering, each inventing their own reason why a decorated Corporal had been placed with them. Rurik heard a door open, and a couple pairs of footsteps enter the main room. One pair hit the floor too lightly to be the mail greaves of a guard.

  “What can I do for you?” He heard one of the guards ask, sweeter than Rurik had heard him talk yet.

  The response given was smooth, delicate, and too soft for him to make out the words.

  “Well, honey, I can’t give out information about high-security prisoners, and from your description of the arresting office, the suspect would be a high-security prisoner. So, if he were here, I couldn’t tell you. I’m sorry, little darling.”

  “Enough. Drop the bullshit and the embarrassing flirting.”

  Klaric!

  Rurik could hear his loud, boisterous friend a mile away. The other must be Amira. “We know he is here. We followed the wagon and watched as they led him in. So, again, what is he being held on? We have done nothing wrong.”

  The guard’s voice hardened. “You may not have, but he has. Corporal Rurik Kaster is charged with heresy and treason to the Empire. He will be executed within hours of us receiving the order from Captain Gretio; the man who you said took him—with the mustache.”

  “That is outrageous!” A loud thump sounded from the room.

  Klaric must be hitting stuff again.

  Amira was saying something. Rurik strained to hear, pressing his face hard against the bars. “…well then, what about the babies?”

  “We didn’t receive any babies, only the Corporal. We are not babysitters.”

  “Alright, before we leave, can we see him?”

  “That is not possible.”

  “Please, I need to see if he is alright,” Amira begged.

  “If he is, or is not, here, I’m sure he is fine.”

  “Okay, you son of a bitch, you are going to let this woman inside there right this—” A struggle sounded in the room. A shout came from the guard. Rurik yelled out in frustration. Seconds later two guards came back to the cells, dragging a twisting Klaric. “I’ll kill both of you! Oh, hey Rurik. I knew you were back here!” A grin spread his face, as they shoved him into the next cell over. “He is alright Amira! Now go find the boys!” Klaric shouted through the open door.

  Rurik yelled out, “Amira! Amira! Don’t worry about me! Be careful when dealing with—” His last words were cut off by the sharp slamming of the door. “—these bastards.”

  Klaric reached through the bars and put his hand on Rurik’s shoulder. “It will be okay. She will be fine. She’s a smart one.” Klaric took his pants off, leaving him in his under clothes. “Take these, at least. Then I won’t have to look at your scrawny ass while we are in here.”

  Rurik took the offering and slipped them on. “Thank you.” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Klaric, I need to tell you something—something important. You are not going to believe it, at first, but I need you to. I need you more now than I ever have.”

  Chapter 42: Deeper into the Web

  Gleb watched Amira stumble out of the prison, overwhelmed with emotion. Rurik was taken away to be killed, and Archaos and Aeronais could be anywhere. She crumbled to the ground, weeping. Gleb ran to her side. He had been waiting with the wagon.

  “What happened in there? Where is Klaric?”

  She couldn’t respond. Sobs choked her throat.

  A commotion came from down the street. Gleb turned in the direction and watched as the street full of people parted to let through a carriage accompanied by six riders. He knew from his studies of the Houses that the markings signified it was the Lord of White Mantle—no one else would be permitted to take it from the House grounds. Gleb searched his memory.

  Who was High Lord at the moment? Lord Hyle! A good man—a scholar.

  A trait that was quite different from the other, power-hungry Lords.

  What would he be doing in the lower city?

  The carriage aimed straight for the jailhouse, stopping just shy of himself and Amira. Gleb pulled the oblivious Amira back as the door swung open. Four soldiers rushed out and secured the walkway, and then some ranked officer emerged from the coach, scanning the area. Under his heavy cloak, shone a polished chestplate marked with the White Mantle emblem—a four-pointed, gold star, draped with a pearl wreath. When he deemed the public area safe, he stuck his head back into the cabin.

  Lord Hyle came stretching out of the door. His tall, lanky body stood out in the crowd. His stature and handsome features, combined with his reputation for being the “good” High Lord gained him much applause from the audience.

  The first thing that the Lord noticed was not the ever-growing, cheering crowd or the hurrying of his bodyguard, but, instead, his focus fell instantly on the weeping mess at his feet. Amira remained with her face down, hidden in her hands.

  “What is the matter, Miss?” The Lord asked, wrapping his words in kindness.

  She sniffed and ran her hand under her nose. “Sir, I beg your forgiveness.” Amira climbed to her feet and bowed slightly, showing respect to the High Lord. “This is not the proper way to welcome a Lord’s presence, but I am not myself at the moment.”

  Hyle laughed gently and tilted her face up to his. “I can see that. It is quite alright, my dear. Maybe I could help with whatever is the matter.”

  Gleb noticed Hyle’s bodyguard swaying anxiously. He guessed the man didn’t want his Master out in the open for so long. The man stepped forward and tapped Hyle’s shoulder.

  “Yes, yes, Horcam. I know.”

  Amira stood quietly for a moment before answering. “Sir, there is something you may be able to do for me. I’ve come from General Saris’ estate. One of my protectors has been arrested as a traitor, and the General’s boys have been taken off to some unknown location. I am beside myself—lost in fear.”

  Lord Hyle’s face turned serious. “Quickly, back inside.”

  Amira jumped from the sudden order. Gleb grabbed at her arm and inclined his head back toward the jail door. She nodded. They went back in, followed by Hyle and Horcam, while the remaining soldiers and riders blocked the entrance.

  * * *

  As the four walked into the jail, Amira had already started plotting in her head, piecing together her plan.

  A Lord surely held weight in these manners.

  She would play the needy female, for the gallant Lord to save.

  The jailer recognized Amira from a few minutes ago. “I told you to leave!” He shouted. “I’ll throw you in there with your friends if you don’t—”

  “That is quite enough,” Hyle raised his hand, flashed his imperial signet ring. “Leave us to talk for a time.”

  “Lor…Lord, I beg your pardon. I did not see it was you.” The guard backed away raising his hands in defense.

  “Leave us.” Hyle waved his hands in the air and abruptly turned toward Amira. “Is Eylen alright? Who is at the estate now? You said boys—plural—both Saris’? Who is the man they arrested this morning? How are you involved?”

  Horcam steadied his Master, “Slowly, sir. She is shaken as is.”

  “Yes,” Hyle paused, “Sorry, miss.”

  “It’s alright,” Amira needed to stick to her story about the boys being twins. How else would she keep Aeronais safe? “I do not know an Eylen, and no one of significance as at the house, momentarily, for as you know, Saris is still out on the battlefield.”

  “Eylen…Saris’ wife? How long have you been in service of the family?”

 
“Oh,” Amira hesitated. “That is where the misunderstanding comes. I never had the chance to meet the lady. She died giving birth to the twins, Archaos and Aeronais.”

  The blood in Hyle’s face slipped away to his feet. Horcam physically held the Lord to keep him standing. “My god.” Hyle ran his hand through his hair and searched out the nearest seat.

  Amira started to say something but was warned by Horcam to stay quiet. She stood silently next to Gleb, confused over the dramatic shift.

  Hyle eventually lifted his gaze to hers. “Eylen was my daughter. The youngest, and last, of my children.” He couldn’t say the words with a dry eye. “She left with Saris, insisting that her delivery would be well looked after by the doctors in the field.” He smashed his fist into his palm. “I knew something would go wrong!”

  “I am so very sorry.” Amira reached to comfort him.

  Hyle pulled away, calculating the scenario. “Wait...why would Saris send you back to his estate with his newborn children? Why you?” His voice was accusing of betrayal.

  Amira hesitated. What could she tell this man that would not harm him more? That his son-in-law has already claimed a new wife and mother for his children, or that Saris had shown no concern over his wife’s impending death?

  “Quit your silence!” Hyle burst out.

  Gleb pulled Amira away. “She will not respond to that manner of treatment.”

  Horcam stared down Gleb. “And a slave has no place in talking to a House Lord, in any manner.”

  “Saris has claimed me as his new wife,” Amira blurted out, abandoning her cautiousness, “Without my consent. But, it is publicly announced, and now I have a responsibility to these boys. I, in no way, meant any ill-intent against your daughter. The General did not even know of my existence till after her death. He has declared me his, and I am to obey, or else.”

  Lord Hyle paused and then stepped back to his feet. “You are very blunt with your words, and, in compassion for your apparent trapping, I must trust what you say. Saris is a man who gets what he wants when he wants it. Your eyes are your greatest witness to the story. Strength. Passion. Sadness. Fear. They are all inside you. I apologize for my outburst. I am sure you can understand the emotion behind it.”

  Amira took her chance at an ally. “I need your help. The boys, your grandchildren and newest members of your household, as in following tradition, are now in captivity with a man named Gretio. He took them at the same time of Rurik’s arrest.”

  “What was the reason Gretio gave for the seizure of this man and the babies?” Horcam asked, stepping closer.

  “Rurik, for treason and heresy against the Empire—whatever they mean by that. And, the babies, I have no clue.” Amira started to cry, and not by pretend act. She honestly had a newfound connection with both of the boys.

  Hyle put his arm around her, dwarfing her in his stature. “I will do everything within my power. We will get to the bottom of this. As you say, they are my grandchildren, and now the last lines of my blood. You have nothing to fear.”

  * * *

  Agent Gretio hurried into his office and locked the door. He scooted around his desk and reached for the underside. With a knock, a small drawer dropped down. Gretio fished a key from under his vest and opened the secret compartment. He rifled through the contents, pulling out a signet ring—the same design that Galro had been in possession of, with the flower and snake. He lit a small candle and began to write a letter.

  “There is no need for that.”

  Gretio jumped in his seat, pulling his sword from his side.

  A young man seemed to shift into vision, walking out from a darkened corner.

  “Damn you, boy,” hissed Gretio, “Always sneaking up from that black hole in which you were spawned.”

  “You should tame that tongue. One day, you could get yourself into a lot of trouble talking to me like that.” The young man adjusted his heavy cloak. “I take it you have news for my father. No need for the letter. I will tell him personally. It’s regarding the situation with Corporal Kaster, am I right?”

  Gretio nodded. “Yes. Rurik Kaster is in the public jailhouse, down in the lower city, and I’ve taken the two boys to be held at a safe location. If you and your father can link General Saris to the slave rebellion, his office would most certainly become available.”

  The young man grinned. “No need to attack him through the deaths of his son and fiancé, anymore. There is nothing like the sweet taste of a falsified political fall, leaving your rival to rot in the cages.” He turned to leave and then quickly stopped. “Rurik is to hang tonight? He will be out of the way?”

  “Yes, I am to go there next,” Gretio answered.

  “I would like to see that for myself. I must change. Look out for my father and me.” The man bowed his leave. “For now.”

  “For now,” Gretio reiterated, tossing his ring back and locking the drawer.

  * * *

  Amira watched the sun slowly sink from the sky, sunset—the scheduled time of Rurik’s judgment.

  Lord Hyle stood next to her. They were on a raised section of sidewalk, gaining them an advantage at seeing the entire execution area and the bordering cages, filled with more offenders than usual. Even their miserable faces seemed perked by the present excitement.

  Hyle had put on a disguise of sorts, letting his guards off, changing into more common clothing for the crowd, and topping his head with a satin cowl. Amira knew Horcam had to be close by. The stern bodyguard wouldn’t let his Master stay out in the open without his defense. Hyle held Amira’s hand like she was a sad, frightened daughter. He had, rather quickly, seemed to peg her as his adopted offspring, coping with the news of his daughter’s death. She didn’t mind. She wanted the comforting and protecting.

  Finally, the doors to the jail opened, and out stepped Gretio, flanked by his thugs. Rurik and Klaric hobbled behind them in shackles. The two were pushed to a center position inside the clearing. Gretio took a step up along a nearby rise and waved to the crowd.

  “People of Taluria!” The cheering washed out his voice. He hushed them down. “People of Taluria. We have before us, two men charged with sedition against the Empire. A crime punishable only by death.”

  The crowd cheered louder.

  Amira watched Hyle’s face, waiting to see a glimpse of his next move. She turned to look across the street as another House carriage suddenly entered the intersection. People jumped out of the way.

  Hyle turned to match her gaze. “Damn. It makes sense that he would be here.”

  “Who? Who is it?” asked Amira.

  “Drokel, House Lord of Bloodborne.”

  “What makes you assume he would show?”

  “Vendetta.”

  “Explain,” Amira snapped back, already feeling so lost in this new world she had been thrown into.

  “Drokel has been the biggest contender for the Office of General. He was Saris’ only real opponent for the position. This may be deeper than a mere case of misinformation. Maybe the information was falsified on purpose, or at the very least, whispered into the wrong people’s ears.”

  Amira didn’t like lying to Hyle. She knew that the charges were at least partially true, and, by law, Rurik would rightfully be executed, but not by the law of common decency.

  The carriage door opened, and a gray-haired man stepped out. He stood strong and put on an air of height without the actual inches. After him, out stepped a young man, in his early twenties. Both were very well dressed and displayed multiple blades throughout their outfits.

  “Lord Drokel,” Hyle pointed at the older one. “And, the other is his son, Drakken. A very talented young man, but equally devious as his father.”

  Amira couldn’t get a good look at the details of his face. He wore a heavy, luxurious cloak, tightly wrapped around his body. The two men were escorted through the crowd—a front row seat to the display.

  “Come,” Hyle said, “It is time to stop this.”

  Amira didn’t ne
ed to be told twice. Horcam appeared beside the Lord and ushered them forward. Lord Hyle shed his disguise as they came closer to the raised pavilion. People quickly realized the increasing importance of the execution—important enough to bring out two of the stronger House Lords. Whispers floated through the air. They knew now that this was no ordinary situation and felt giddy over their witnessing it.

  Hyle took to the stairs, taking measured, strong steps. He was a leader, and it was evident. There would be a struggle for power, and he was ready for it. Drokel was certainly a part of this.

  At the center of the circle, Gretio and the executioner stood over Rurik and Klaric. To the right, stood Lord Drokel, and Drakken, who was crouching down to look at the men. Then to Gretio’s left, Lord Hyle stood, arms crossed in front of his chest, backed by Horcam. Amira stayed a few feet back, wanting to be out of the center of the action.

  She caught Rurik’s eye and smiled at him.

  “Drokel,” Hyle said, slightly nodding his head.

  “Hyle,” The Lord said in return.

  “Gentlemen, what a treat to have both of you with us today,” Gretio interjected.

  “Like you didn’t know he would be here.” Hyle waved at Drokel. “I know he has something to do with this.”

  “Why does any of this concern you, old man,” Drakken took to his feet.

  He was more athletic than he seemed from afar, Amira thought.

  “Maybe because, when this man was arrested, my grandchildren were also taken into custody.” Hyle’s voice boomed.

  Gretio stepped between the two and faced Hyle. “I assure you, the children are completely safe.”

  “I will be the judge of that,” said Hyle, “I would like them to both be released over into my custody immediately. And—”

  “No! Wait a second,” Drokel put his hand out, “That is unacceptable. One of them is a child born from a Talurian and Harmite union—a disgusting sexual act, disgracing our proud and strong bloodline.”

 

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