Van Laven Chronicles: Shadow Reign

by Tyler Chase

  She nodded her understanding. “Now he expects you, the one constant in his life, to make up for all the wrongs they’ve done to him.” Vaush groaned and rubbed her hands over her face. “All this time I’ve hated him for what he tried to do to us, but now … I don’t know. The man is deeply damaged, but the kind of help he truly needs is far beyond what even the best friendship could provide.”

  Comron stared into the distance, and his voice was hollow. “I know, but unless I do something soon, Nethic will pay the price.”

  Chapter 17

  Merit Hancet was a short barrel of a man with dark strands of hair doing their best to cover his balding head. His deep-set, gray eyes peered out from a protruding brow and bulbous nose. His jowls framed a mouth that was usually smiling or eating. Merit Hancet also possessed one of the most brilliant minds in the field of interplanetary economics and mathematics. He was also the former deputy Imperial Finance Minister. He had been discharged for being too vocal in his negative opinions of the Nostrom Hegemony.

  Hancet also had a particular fancy for Vlodostokian women and dreamed of making a vast fortune and then settling down in one of the Hinter Worlds with a tall, voluptuous Vlodostokian lass. All of this had made him an ideal candidate for the team Comron assembled to help him carry out his plans to take down the Hegemony.

  It didn’t take much encouragement to lure Hancet in, especially when he discovered he’d be working closely with their Vlodostokian counterparts. Even the knowledge that Van Laven was only of a second tier house did little to dissuade him, particularly after Comron revealed some of the inner secrets of the Hegemony while simultaneously weeding out all the Nostrom plants in the Vlodostokian senior government.

  Knowledge was power and Hancet devoured it.

  “Idiots, the lot of them,” he exclaimed from across the conference table. The others members of the team attended via a secured teleconference. “The Hegemony’s overconfidence will be their downfall, that and spreading themselves so thin fighting wars in the name of democracy. Pfft, they wouldn’t know democracy if it bit them in the ass.”

  “So eloquently put, Mister Hancet,” Comron smirked as they wrapped up the call. “All right gentlemen, you all know what needs to be done to move forward. We meet back in two days to discuss the next phase.” After they had all signed off, Comron rose from his chair as Hancet gathered his things.

  An unfortunate rumbling in Comron’s stomach caught Hancet’s attention.

  “Ach! It is passed the dinner hour,” Hancet said, slapping his own belly. “I’m going to meet my lady friend at Grangelles for dinner, why don’t you join us, Van Laven?”

  “Thank you, Hancet, perhaps some other time, yes?”

  “It’s your loss. They’ve the finest food and wine, and my Jenska is a Vlodostokian vision to behold.”

  “I’m certain she is, and I’ll be happy to meet her another time,” he said with a kind smile as he urged him toward the door. Vaush was waiting for him and the meeting had run over as it was. If he didn’t hurry Hancet out now he’d be another half hour jabbering on.

  Hancet laughed. “Well you don’t have to shove me out the door.”

  “I’m sorry, but I am running late for another appointment.”

  “At this hour?” Hancet grinned and glanced around his shoulder at the bedroom. “I hope she’s not too angry with you. You should’ve said something sooner, you old dog.”

  “Yes, well, goodnight, Hancet,” Comron said and closed the door on his grinning face. He quickly made his way to the false door in the bedroom and sped down the long corridors to Vaush’s suite. When he entered, he found her in the study looking rather disturbed.

  “Dearest,” he said as he entered. “I’m sorry, I’m late. The meeting—”

  “It’s all right, darling,” Vaush said, her eyes brightening at the sight of him when she rose for a light kiss. “Have you had anything to eat? I had your plate set aside in the kitchen. It will only be a moment to warm it up.”

  “That sounds perfect. I’m famished.” He followed her to the gourmet cooking area just off the dining room. It warmed him to see her, his empress-wife, choosing to wait on him herself instead of ordering the bots or servants to do so. “Did your meeting with the Minister of Education go well?” he asked as she tapped at the control keys on the refrigeration cabinet.

  “That was a breeze; the budget’s been finalized,” she said, removing the food tray and placing it into the heating device. “However, I received a rather curious meeting request today.”

  “Do tell,” he said as he took a seat at the kitchen island.

  “It came from Colonel Anbelise Nostrom.”

  “Anbelise? What the devil does she want with you?”

  Vaush shrugged. “She didn’t say. I supposed I’ll find out tomorrow.”

  “Hmph,” he said, shifting on the stool. “Well, I’ll just have to Chronicle Colonel Anbelise this evening and see if we can’t figure out what she’s after.”

  “Yes … that would be the prudent thing to do,” she said and looked away as she waited for the food to warm up. The corner of her mouth pulled taut, her fingers drummed at her hip, and there was a hard set to her eyes.

  “Something else on your mind, love?” he asked, easily discerning it wasn’t the Anbelise meeting.

  Her shoulders sagged, and she gave him a rather guilt-ridden look. “I should’ve been the one to Chronicle Anbelise while I was waiting for you, but instead I used the Bramech to look into Crausin’s childhood again.”

  “Oh?” The feeling of hunger was suddenly replaced with something more akin to dread. “I thought we agreed that there were far better uses of your time.”

  “I know … but after a long day of council meetings and budget reviews, I needed a diversion,” she said to rationalize her new hobby. The heating system chirped and Vaush removed his tray and placed it before him along with some utensils.

  “Thank you,” he said, placing a napkin on his lap. “So, what did your search yield?”

  Her eyes danced with eagerness. “Did you know that when Crausin was only twelve, several prestigious universities attempted to recruit him because his academic test scores were off the charts for his age? That despite the horrors he endured. Edred considered letting him go until the schools requested Crausin’s medical records. He was afraid they’d see all of Crausin’s contusions, bone fractures, and breaks, all indisputable proof of the abuse he’d suffered. So Edred turned down the offers and continued to keep Crausin a solitary prisoner at Northridge Castle, refusing to allow him any interaction with outsiders. The extent of his world was his four tutors and his father, that’s it. No wonder his mind conjured you up.”

  Comron stabbed a potato with his fork. “Yes, I tried to take all of that into consideration when Crausin hung me from the rafters and beat the shite out of me,” he chomped on the potato. Would Vaush be so understanding when she reached the part where Crausin tortured Rachael in the cellar or when he imprisoned Comron for months thereafter?

  One of the servo-bots rolled in with wine service and poured two glasses for them. When it left Vaush said, “I didn’t mean to downplay or excuse his atrocious behavior. I will never forget how I found you that day after you escaped from the cellar. But here’s the perplexing part, I viewed some of your childhood too, looked for instances of Crausin’s cruelty toward you and your brothers, but could find none. In fact, the Chronicle showed Crausin to be a rather loving and devoted father to you. If anything, I’d fault him for being too indulgent a parent.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You were a borderline spoiled brat as a child.”

  Comron’s eyes narrowed and he stopped eating for a second.

  “The point is your childhood seemed idyllic. You had a loving mother and father who encouraged and supported you, made you and your brothers the center of their world. How does one go from that to nearly being beaten to death by one of those parents?”

  He shrugged. “You call it an idyllic childhood. I called it
my gilded cage.”

  A pensive expression fell over her face and then she nodded. “What an apt description. But all of this paints Crausin in a very different light. He’s not just some run of the mill maniacal control freak that must have his way at all cost. Deep inside, he’s a lonely frightened child desperately clinging to the only security he’s ever known and doing anything in his power to hold on to it. Edred created the monster in Crausin, through his cruelty and forced isolation.”

  He found himself growing uncomfortable at her desire to defend and understand Crausin. But shouldn’t he prefer that to her hating him? Didn’t he want his two worlds to be reconciled? “Edred kept him hidden from the public because he was afraid that others would discover Crausin’s … oddities. You see, he needed to marry his son off in a few years and couldn’t risk rumors spreading concerning Crausin’s mental state.”

  “Speaking of which,” Vaush sat at the bar next to him. “Did you ever see what transpired between Edred and Meglyn that broke Crausin’s heart?”

  Comron’s hand froze halfway between the plate and his mouth. “Vaush, why are you so interested in the details of Crausin’s life?”

  She leaned upon her elbow. “Because he’s the man who raised you and, as you yourself have said, you are Crausin—the same man, raised in a different environment. When I watch him as a child, it breaks my heart to see what he suffered, but I feel that I’m learning a great deal about you, the man I married. Like for instance … you’re a genius with the propensity for eccentricity.”

  He wanted to demand that she stop this particular pursuit, but knew that would only heighten the intrigue surrounding Crausin. Obviously, she hadn’t reached Comron’s teen years when everything changed.

  “You didn’t answer the question about Meglyn,” she said, dipping her hand into a bowl of dark grapes.

  He frowned as he cut into the meat on his plate. “Oh, the infamous Meglyn Malvoy. That money-grubbing whore tried to extort money from Edred claiming she was carrying Crausin’s child. He bought her off for a paltry sum and made her agree to never see Crausin again.”

  She shook her head slowly. “You need to see how it really went down and your, that is, imaginary Comron’s involvement at the end of it.”

  His brow creased further. “I don’t have time for that, I need to Chronicle Anbelise, remember?”

  She lowered her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. Anbelise comes first. But before we turn in for the night, just take five minutes to view the passage I marked.”

  He sighed in resignation. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  She inclined her head at him. “It’s really important. Maybe it will give us some clue as to how to deal with Crausin in the future.”

  “All right but, for Frithe’s sake, Vaush,” Comron said, placing his fork down, “we’ve an Empire to run and can’t waste precious time on inconsequential matters.” Even as he said it, he knew it was unfair. He was her husband and truthfully, she knew very little about him and his family since he’d pressured her into marrying him after only three weeks of knowing each other. If she decided to dig now, could he really blame her?

  “I’ll do a better job of prioritizing my time,” she conceded. “But I won’t promise to refrain from doing any more research. It’s too important to me.”

  If that were the case, there were things he’d need to tell her before she discovered them on her own. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that it was a frivolous pursuit, and I’m flattered that learning Van Laven history is of such importance to the Sovereign of the Sellusion Empire. One way or the other, I suppose we’ll make our way into the history books.”

  ***

  As promised, Comron sat down to view the passage in the Chronicle Archives that Vaush had marked for him. He took a deep breath and gave the view command. As anticipated, his vision faded to gray, and his mind was a whirl before slamming into focus. He recognized the setting immediately as Crausin’s study at Northridge Castle, only at this point in history, it still belonged to Edred.

  “Why did you do it?” young Crausin burst into the room with murder in his stunning green eyes. “Why couldn’t you allow me that one thing?”

  “Ah, the lamb finally speaks like a bull,” Edred quipped. “About time you found your damned balls.”

  Crausin charged him, but one blow from Edred’s heavy fist sent him sprawling back, holding a bloodied nose.

  “Tell me, if you can, how did you imagine this whole scenario was going to play out?” Edred chuckled derisively, his steely gray eyes narrowed. “Did you think that you and your plucky little whore were going to run off into the sunset together? You’re the crown prince of Nethic. Was she going to bear you strong respectable sons to sit on the throne? Gods below, what manner of fool have I raised?”

  “You didn’t have to send her away,” Crausin said, as he rose from the floor, a kerchief at his nose. “Meg understood that I couldn’t marry her. She was no threat to your plans for me.”

  “Perhaps.” Edred walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink. “But I didn’t care for the habits you were forming—sneaking around behind my back, setting up separate accounts at Highlands for your whore, buying her all those expensive gifts. Such a naïve, besotted clod.”

  “If I had informed you, would you have permitted me to continue seeing her?”

  “Not if I believed you were stupid enough to let that ulcer-ridden snatch lead you about by the cock!” he yelled, sloshing his drink around. “You would have given her the deed to Northridge Castle if she had asked for it. You were out of control.”

  Crausin’s eyes blazed with indignation. “Meg and I are in love! So go ahead and give your damn throne to someone else,” he said and started for the door. “I’m going to find Meg. To hell with you!”

  “Come back here, you blithering idiot!” Edred barked, his voice like the crack of a whip. “I will tell you exactly where she is.”

  Crausin spun around, his eyes were frantic with hope. “Where is she? Were they hiding her at the Highlands?”

  “No,” Edred answered with a sadistic grin. “I will tell you where she is, but first I have something to show you. It may somewhat alter your opinion of her.” He walked over to the large wooden desk and tapped a button. The walls of the armoire retracted revealing a view screen. “I noticed that you haven’t asked how it was that I discovered your little affair.”

  His eyes darted about as if searching for the answer. “I must have gotten careless and forgotten to cover my tracks.”

  “No, you meticulous moron. The greedy bitch told me herself,” he scratched his chin. “Seems your pockets are deep, but not nearly as deep as that of a duke’s.”

  “What are you talking about?” Crausin’s voice quivered and there was a fearful look in his eyes.

  Edred switched the screen on. “Meg came to Northridge Castle last night with extortion on her mind. She claimed she was carrying your child.”

  Crausin grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself. “Meg is pregnant? B-but I was so careful, always.”

  “As annoyingly fastidious as you are, I believe it. Nonetheless, the girl was intent on blackmailing me, among other things. You and I know that the surveillance devices are constantly running in Northridge Castle. Apparently, she did not.” He nodded toward the screen as the footage began to play.

  There was Meg on the screen wearing a black cloak over a blue blouse and corset, a knee-length skirt with an easy access slit up the side, and black thigh-high boots. Her red hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She was grinning coquettishly as she slinked around Edred, reminding him that she had been his whore long before young Crausin had warmed her bed. She was asking him how much he was willing to pay to make this whole matter go away, her and the alleged bastard. He offered a price, and Meg pouted as she urged him back toward the leather-upholstered divan.

  “Surely, you can do better than that, for old time’s sake.” She pushed Edred down upon the sofa and then hi
ked her skirt up to reveal that she wore no underpants. She straddled his waist.

  Edred turned at Crausin’s mortified gasp, as he watched his beloved adeptly working the clasp of his father’s pants.

  “Does it matter to you that the lamb is upstairs asleep in his bed at this moment,” Edred said, looking askance at her.

  They both laughed bawdily at the thought that she cared.

  “I’m tired of playing childish games with little boys. I need only what a man can give me.” She slid her hand down into Edred’s pants.

  “Hasn’t my son been generous with you?” Edred asked, laying back, enjoying the skillful play of her hands.

  Meg shrugged. “Trinkets from a boy are of little consequence to me.”

  “What exactly do you want, Meg?” he let out a moan when Meg lifted her hips, then slid down onto him.

  “For starters,” she said as she rocked back and forth, “the sum of credits you offered initially, the estate in Greshmore—”

  “How did you know about Greshmore?” Edred asked with furrowed brow.

  “The lamb told me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Such a twisted little thing, that son of yours,” her freckled nose crinkled in revulsion. “Whenever I grew bored of him pumping away at me, and wanted him to just get it over with, I’d let him call me Cristalla.” She laughed. “It busts his nuts every time, just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  “He does what?” Edred exclaimed suddenly angry.