Along the sides of the hall stood servants, ready to move at a moment’s notice, and royal guards, all dressed in military uniforms and full body armor—not that Grindaull needed the protection—he just liked to always have a show of force. Everyone in the hall was human, except for Kaj and two Larions, who were finishing up their own meeting with the king. They quickly spoke a few final words to Grindaull, bowed to show their respect, and then left, passing Monty and Cross on their way out. Monty noticed that they were dressed in the gold uniforms of the Larion army, with a unique navy blue trim lining the edges. Their uniforms also featured an insignia on their shoulders of a lightning bolt overtop a circle. Monty wasn’t an expert on larion culture, but even he knew that these two were from the Storm Legion—supposedly the legion from the Larion Empire that dealt with Grindaull the most. One of the larions was a woman with brown skin and tidy hair. The other was a man, with a light blue skin tone and a distinct face. His eyes revealed his merciless nature and half his face had been badly scarred by a large burn.
As they passed by Monty, he was distracted by their pointed ears. How repulsive, he thought to himself. Imperfect beings, with imperfect bodies. But despite his disgust with them, he couldn’t help but feel intimidated by their presence. The fact that they stood a solid two feet taller than him and had incredibly muscular physiques—added to their ability to control the elements—did make them a formidable opponent. Monty feared the larions deeply—not just the two walking by but the Larion Empire as a whole, and he was glad that their Emperor and King Grindaull were allies. Monty didn’t want to think of a whole army of these ugly creatures as an enemy.
The larions soon made their way out, and Monty quickly turned his attention to the man at the end of the Great Hall. The king’s throne was built above the ground with a flight of stairs leading to it, and seated on the throne was the most terrifying being Monty had ever encountered in his entire life. No matter how many times he was in King Grindaull’s presence, he could never get used to it. Grindaull wore a full suit of black armor and a red half-cape that fell off his right shoulder, draping over the side of his throne. A midnight black helmet sat on his head, covering most his face. All that could be seen of the King’s facial features were his red eyes and his mouth. The design of his helmet, like everything Grindaull did was a tactic, so that everyone could see his blood-thirsty eyes and his sadistic smile. He never wore a crown or any jewelry that would set him apart as royalty. No one asked him why, out of fear that he might kill them for asking such a stupid question, but most people assumed it was because of his roots as a soldier. Grindaull fought and killed for his right to rule AzzaNation, and he wanted everyone to remember it.
No one on the planet dared to challenge the king’s power, out of fear and obedience—but more importantly, they all knew that Grindaull was more powerful than any of them. Some would even say that he was stronger than all his soldiers put together. He was a human evolved, with an empathic ability—which meant that he could take other people’s powers. No one knew how many abilities Grindaull had accumulated over his lifetime, which was roughly 130 years, but they knew it was a lot. However, beyond the overwhelming amount of abilities Grindaull had, he possessed something of greater power and darkness—the demon blade Zabumura. It was the blade the ancient Demon King Groff used to murder millions of souls until Kahl stole it and used it to end the Demon King’s life, and banish the rest of the demons back to the Fifth Dimension. The legend goes that the blade eventually drove Kahl mad, and he used the sword to take his own life. Which would mean, if the stories were true, that the soul of Kahl himself was trapped within the infamous sword.
Zabumura had no owner for centuries until Grindaull. No one knows how he got it, or how it emerged after being lost for so long, but once it found its way into Grindaull’s hands, the two had never been apart. Some would say that the Demon Blade is the cause of Grindaull’s cruelty and madness. The blade contained so much raw power that very few people had the capability of touching the sword without dying on the spot. After all, the blade contained millions of dead tortured souls, two of which were Groff and Kahl themselves. The power within it is unmatched—but it is unquestionably true that the power Zabumura gives its wielder comes at a horrific price.
Monty finally reached the foot of Grindaull’s throne and felt the king’s intimidating gaze upon him. He lowered himself to one knee, bowing his head. He was about to speak, but Cross beat him to it.
“Your Majesty! It is an honor to be in your presence once again,” said Cross, as he gave an exaggerated bow.
Monty despised Cross even more in that moment, and was determined not to let the captain have all the king’s attention.
“Yes, Your Grace,” said Monty, bowing as well—but keeping it respectable, “It is an honor to serve you in any way that you desire. My life is merely a tool for my King’s use.”
Monty kept his eyes on the ground, but he knew Grindaull was smiling. Then the king began to laugh…It was a laugh that always sent shivers down Monty’s spine. His blood turned cold, and he felt terrified, like a hand was clutching the back of his neck.
“Is that so Warden?” asked Grindaull. The entire hall was completely silent once the king opened his mouth—his voice echoing off the hard stone walls. “I appreciate the sentiment…but I would appreciate it more in practice. As we all know, you have been called here because you let the Brotherhood of Light infiltrate Adras prison…If your life was truly mine to use, then it stands to reason that you should have used your life in a more productive way.”
Monty could feel every eye in the Great Hall on him. In his peripheral vision, he saw Cross smiling—the insufferable twit. Monty wanted to kill him so bad his body ached, but he knew now wasn’t the time. His life was the one in danger, and if he didn’t play this situation perfectly, Grindaull wouldn’t think twice. It would happen in an instant, and before he knew what happened, he would be lying on the floor…dead.
“You are absolutely correct, Your Grace. I have failed you, and my life is yours to end or spare—if Your Grace is ever so merciful. However…before you make your decision, please accept my gifts I brought for Your Majesty’s use.”
Grindaull perked up slightly, and suddenly Monty felt a slimmer of hope.
“And what gifts have you brought me Warden?”
“The first is my annual initiate into the Royal Army—the winner of the Adras Death Tournament—who will serve at your pleasure.” Monty signaled the guards to bring Kaj forward.
Grindaull didn’t flinch or bat an eye at the enormous drake. Instead, the corners of his mouth simply tilted up in the slightest smile.
“Ah yes…your rehabilitation project…Well let’s hope that this one does better than your previous initiates.” Grindaull looked to Cross, with a sinister look in his eyes. “Captain Cross, would you mind testing the Warden’s so-called initiate?”
Cross bowed once again to his king, with a grand flourish. It took all of Monty’s efforts no to throw up.
“It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty.” Cross looked over at Monty and grinned. They never spoke, but Monty knew what Cross was thinking. The man, who was a constant pain in Monty’s neck, was thinking…How fortunate it is that I get to be the one who humiliates you.
Frustrated, Monty breathed in and let the air out through his nostrils. He did his best to keep quiet—to hide his anger, so not to reveal too much. After a few seconds, of resigning himself to what was going to happen next, he stepped back to watch Cross fight Kaj. Everyone else in the vicinity did the same, leaving Cross and the croc in the center of the room.
The croc looked down at the human captain and sighed. He crossed his massive arms in defiance, and Monty pulled out his switch for the beast’s inhibitor chip. After a few seconds of electricity coursing through Kaj’s nervous system, he began to roar out in pain and anger. His muscles swelled up and his pupils dilated. The beast’s primal bloodlust had been activated, making him want to fight badly—but
more than that, the croc wanted to feast on Cross’ blood. Cross was unaffected by Kaj’s aggression and attempts at intimidation, and in response he slowly and confidently walked in front of the drake. The captain pulled out his rapier from its scabbard, and held the sword in front of his face…ready to begin the duel.
Kaj roared, and the room shook, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. He charged at Cross quickly. With each step the blue-scaled drake took, the ground in the hall shook—but Cross remained still in his dueling pose. The croc kept charging, until he was mere inches away from the captain. And, as Kaj’s enormous hand came down with the intention of crushing the human—Cross disappeared and moved as a black and red blur. He cut fifty wounds on Kaj’s body in a millisecond, and he ended up on the opposite side of the now beaten and bloody drake. Kaj fell to the ground, unable to stand up or move his massive muscles. Cross walked over to the head of the enormous drake and looked to Grindaull.
“Shall I end his life Your Majesty?” asked Cross, with an air of superiority. He hadn’t even broken a sweat during the entire fight.
Grindaull smiled wide, “Yes…please do Captain—but do it slowly. This insect doesn’t deserve a merciful death.”
Cross gave a nod, and with a smile signaled a servant to bring him a butcher’s knife. He cleaned his rapier and sheathed it. The servant quickly ran to Cross and handed him a small, slightly curved blade. Slowly, Cross began to cut fingers, toes, and full limbs off the defenseless drake—and with each severed limb, Kaj howled in pain.
Monty knew that Kaj never stood a chance against Cross. The captain was a trained speedster, and he was arguably the best soldier in the Royal Army, next to Grindaull. That was why he had put his original hopes for his initiate to be Exe. As a fellow speedster, ‘Leo the Butcher’, could have potentially lasted a full minute against the captain—which was all that Grindaull required from these tests. It pained Monty that not one of his initiates throughout the years had made it past ten measly seconds. However, the warden still had some tricks up his sleeve to help him survive, and he fully planned on using them.
“Oh well,” said Monty, with a shrug. “Another year, another dead piece of scum. The drake was a long shot anyway. I hope Your Grace at least had some mild amusement from his death.”
Grindaull’s eyes shined bright, as Kaj let out another scream.
“The second gift I have brought for Your Grace is the gift of information…”
“Information?” Grindaull chuckled, “For your sake Warden, this information better be worth it because you are starting to test my patience.”
Monty breathed heavily. He was hoping to tantalize the king, but ended up making him angry. The terror at the back of his neck gripped even tighter, but he did his best not to show it.
“Very well Your Grace…I will jump right to it and stop wasting your time.”
Grindaull gave a scoff, but he allowed Monty to continue.
“As you know, the Brotherhood of Light helped ‘X’ block prisoner, Leo Exe escape from Adras. They did this by blowing a hole in our security for a split second and used an evolved teleporter to come in and take Leo Exe out…What you don’t know is that I sent three guards to recapture the criminals while they were still in the desert. Two of my guards were killed—but one survived and he witnessed an unexpected ally of the criminals who came to their aid.”
Monty pulled out a datapad from an interior pocket in his coat. After a few commands, a projection of visor-footage from the event appeared large and bright.
“How is your guard’s incompetence supposed to interest me?”
“Well the thing is your grace…” replied Monty, hoping that the information he gave next would be enough to save his life. He fast forwarded through the footage, until a mysterious figure appeared from a far-off dune. The figure shot a bright blue streak at one guard, and in the next moment, a second guard’s ELC rifle exploded. Monty paused the footage and zoomed into the figure’s image. Their image was slowly brought into focus, revealing a woman. A woman with long brown hair…and unique tattoos peeking out from behind a sleeve. “The one who came to the criminals’ aid was an Egon.”
Grindaull’s smile disappeared completely. Anger radiated off the king’s body like a bonfire. The entire Great Hall could feel the intensity coming from his eyes. He sat up on the edge of his seat and his voice became low and flat.
“Did I hear you correctly, Warden? Did you say an Egon helped the Brotherhood of Light?”
“But that’s not possible,” said Cross, now finished with Kaj’s corpse. He walked up to the projection, and scrutinized the image. “The Egons have a treaty to remain neutral. The deal was that they stay in their little mountain village and we don’t recruit or kill their kind. Why would they risk their immunity?”
“I am aware of the treaty Captain,” said Monty, staring him down. “Obviously, they are breaking their agreement.”
Grindaull wasn’t saying anything. He was boiling in an uncontrollable rage. He kept flexing his hands, and gripping the armrest of his throne in anger. He eventually, signaled for a servant to come to him. When they arrived, eager to fulfill their master’s request—the king grabbed the servant by the throat and twisted until their neck snapped. Grindaull threw the corpse to the side and stood up, still growling with rage.
“Your Grace,” said Monty, forcing himself to remain calm and still—fighting his body’s desire to run away as fast as he could, “I thought you might react this way…so I brought you one more gift.”
Grindaull’s attention turned solely to Monty—his eyes were now glowing a crimson red.
“Clark, come here!” shouted Monty.
The young guard stepped forward to where Monty was standing. Like everyone else in the room, Clark was frightened from the king’s reaction—but to his credit, the prison guard was standing at attention with a patriotic focus. Monty almost felt sorry for the man, for what he was about to do next.
As soon as Clark was beside Monty, the warden signaled to the royal guards to restrain his subordinate.
“What’s this?! What’s going on Warden?!” screamed Clark.
Monty ignored the guard and kept his attention purely on his king.
“Your Grace, Clark here is the aforementioned surviving guard. If it were not for his cowardice, we would still have the prisoner Leo Exe, as well as his teleporter and Egon accomplices. I give him to you so you may gain his ability and life to use as your own.”
At once, Grindaull’s jittery energy became still and focused. He began walking down his throne’s steps towards Monty and the restrained Mr. Clark. He was still boiling with rage, but he began to smile at the prospect of draining life from the guard.
“Tell me Warden…what ability does he have?” said Grindaull, in an almost sexual way.
“He has enhanced leg muscles, Your Grace. Along with other benefits, it makes him capable of jumping to heights hundreds of feet in the air, and landing with perfect safety.”
Grindaull began panting, and he ran over to Clark who was still being restrained. He smiled eerily and stared into the frightened guard’s eyes. The king waved off his soldiers and grabbed Clark’s head. A red energy appeared around the two of them, and Clark began to scream in agonizing pain. Grindaull dug his nails into Clark’s pale flesh and blood began to pour from the doomed guard’s eyes, mouth, nose and ears. His freckled skin began to decay, and his screams became louder and louder until they abruptly reached their end.
The red energy faded into Grindaull, and he let go of Clark, whose decayed and bloody corpse fell to the floor. The king took in a large breath, and then—after a few seconds of complete silence, he began to laugh—a sadistic, blood-curdling laugh. His rage was gone, and he returned to his eerily cheerful self.
“Ahhh…I must thank you Warden…I needed that,” said Grindaull, now rising back up to his throne.
Monty let out a silent sigh of relief…He had survived. “I’m glad to hear it Your Grace.”
�
�Yes,” said Grindaull, now fully seated back in his throne. “It has given me the clarity I need for this Egon situation…Captain Cross, step forward.”
Cross did not hesitate. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“You captured the psychic Zane correct?”
“Yes sir. He is currently being held in Fort Koivisto as we speak. However, I plan to move him to the capitol as soon as possible. You see during our convoy, when we defeated the Brotherhood’s attempt at rescue, the rebels managed to capture one of my men. It won’t be long before the angelic, Lazareth, breaks him and finds out where we took Zane.”
“Thank you Captain, but I want you to keep Zane where he is for now.”
“…With all due respect Your Majesty—if we leave him there, the Brotherhood will try to rescue him.”
“I’m counting on it Captain,” chuckled Grindaull.
Cross was clearly still skeptical, but he was not one to push an argument with the king.
“Very well, Your Majesty…I will do as you request.”
Cross gave a bow to his king and turned to leave. Monty was about to do the same when Grindaull stopped him.
“I have to thank you again for all of your gifts today Montgomery.”
“S-Sir…you called me by my name…” Monty was filled with unexpected joy. Maybe he was finally in the king’s inner circle. Perhaps, he was finally getting the promotion he knew he deserved.
“Yes…well I have decided that you should no longer serve as Warden of Adras Prison.”
The Chronicles of AzzaNation: Dawn of a New Age Page 16
