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Kinwrathi · (11-06-2013)

Blink and it Just Might Hit You

Sanctuary. Common ground. Hidden, floating in the clouds, enveloped in the atmosphere high above the planet Cyridion. The only two souls who've ever seen this hallowed ground are seated, across from each other at a grand dining table in the center of the spacious, chapel like room. Gonnerah, Queen of the Joltinen, runs her fingers through her hair, staring back at the man on the opposite end. Clearing his throat, he waits for the echoing to die out before speaking out in a low pitched, booming voice.

"You know what's happening, don't you?" Resting his hands on the wooden surface, the man forces an assuring smile, before letting it drop into a neutral, straight faced gaze across the way.

"You think that if anything they did got by me, that I'd still be in this position?" Her voice shook, trying to be stern. Tapping on the side of the table, she looks around the empty room, unwilling to continue eye contact. "It's that damn, ungrateful..." She trails off, not wanting to give her guest the satisfaction of seeing her angry.

"Kinwrathi?"

In silence, she nods.

"Heh. I know just the way to stop him."

Her eyes widen at the unspoken suggestion, and leans closer to him, pounding her fist on the surface.

"No! You, you can't be serious!"

"Oh, but I am. Look at the facts, Gonnerah. He won't stop this foolish plot until it happens, so why risk it?"

"You're a fucking psychopath."

"A psychopath with a plan to keep you in power, and don't you forget it!"

Her eyes scan the man's face. Ragged, worn out, with the slightest hint of a smile forming in the corners of his mouth. Pushing his chair away from the table and standing up, his long, scraggly beard flops around, awkwardly forming its way back into place. With a spark in his eye, he asks the ultimate question:

"Shall we?"

Taking a deep breath and letting it out once more, Gonnerah closes her eyes before responding.

"Yes, we shall." Upon utterance of those words, her head grew heavy and an uneasy feeling forms in the pit of her stomach.

Under a Rock

The coronation could be heard faintly from the interior of the cave where not even 12 hours prior, the plot had been hatched. Jubilated, the three men crowded around the very same chamber where the meeting had taken place, awaiting the arrival of the new head of the Kingdom, Queen Arin Borrellia. The oldest of the three bent over, reaching below the table. Moments later, he returns with a narrow necked glass bottle, and places it on the table before grabbing mugs.

"Today, we celebrate!" Popping open the cork and tossing it across the room, he pours the amber liquid into each mug, grabbing the one in the center. With little hesitation, the other two grab mugs of their own, and hold them up in the air.

"To victory!" The youngest of the group, and peacemaker during the argument proclaims.

"To sticking it to those imperialistic dogs!" The one who found their hiding place screams.

"To our impending riches!" The leader bellows, and the three simultaneously take their first gulps. As the alcohol burns past their throats, warming their frigid bodies, the group grows silent, hearing the faint sounds of the coronation.

"And on this day," the woman's voice began, matching the same angered, outraged tone she had taken with the leader, blended with a hint of sorrow. "Let it be known that the King's assassins will not be treated lightly. The threats he had received from this very sector of his land will no longer be taken with a grain of salt! On this day, let it be known, that no longer will this antiquated monarchy be the word of law!"

A deafening silence comes over the lightly cheering crowd, much to the delight of the cavedwellers.

"Holy shit, she's 'bout to-"

"Acting under the last will and testament of my deceased love, I am to ascend to power. Sovereignty at last for we, the oppressed. The Imperial Palace, will retain its old meaning of authority and power, for no longer is this Samir's kingdom." The three ravenously finish their drinks and set the mugs on the table, enthralled in the speech itself.

"She's not gonna-"

"From this day on, I swear myself in as the first Empress of the New Thenroen Empire." Her voice struggled to keep a sense of sorrow by this point, not that the crowd noticed. The same socked silence befell them once more, while in the cave, the men rioted and cheered.

"The stories you told us, they're gonna be true again!" The younger of the two subordinates yelped, hugging the leader tightly. Laughing, the leader shoves him off.

"Yeah, I guess they are."

Just then, the sound of footsteps prodding along the stone floor of the cave catch the group's attention. Dropping to silence, they try to form themselves into a position to catch the intruders off guard. The sound of footsteps come ever closer, accompanied by a low, booming voice.

"Come on out, no need to make this harder than it has to be."

"Fuck you!" The leader proclaims.

"Very well," the general states, sighing. Barreling into the chamber, 9 armed soldiers alongside him stand, blocking the only opening. "Hiding like the cowards you are, I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

With a feral roar, the leader charges forward, sword in hand. Lunging for the general's chest, he's cut off by a strike from his opponent's weapon of choice, the mace. Dropping to the ground, blood pouring from the punctures and indents in his skull, he cracks a smile at his attacker.

"Come on, do it again."

Smiling down at the man, the general denies his request, instead sending his men after the other two. The younger one drops his weapon on the ground, the sound of it colliding with the stone echoing while he screams out in surrenderance. Begging for mercy that he didn't get. One of the soldiers takes his dagger and slides it across the man's throat. Grabbing the man, now choking on blood by his hair, he slams the head against the ground.

The last one leaps forward, into the awaiting longsword of yet another soldier. Sliding down, toward the handle, he drives his own sword into the man's unprotected chest. The soldier drops to the ground, and the rebel crawls on the ground, sword still piercing his body, before the general smashes his head into the stone with his mace.

Kneeling before the leader, the general holds his head up to look him in the eye.

"Here's what I'm going to do."

Motioning for one of the soldiers to grab the bottle from the table, he snatches it out of the young man's hand. Laughing, he pours the liquid on the ground around, and on the man. The soldiers backpedal, before outright turning back and walking to the exit of the cave as the general takes his flint, and rubs it against the steel until at last, a spark.

Fire engulfs the leader, and the general walks out of the chamber to regroup with his squad, and to tell the Empress of his deed.

This day, was his.

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