Snarling savagely like a wounded beast, Edgar spat, “You little bastard! You won’t get away with this!”
Brushing off his brother’s threats, Autem countered, “I already have!”
Within moments, Autem watched as his brother screamed while being dismembered. Autem sheathed his sword and turned to some of the other barons.
“I have to return to Chrysos, but I can’t go back unscathed. I might not become the emperor you were promised if no one believes the cover story about my brother and nephews’ deaths. Beat me up a bit and make it look good. Then kill a few peasants, dress them up in your Coven uniforms, and leave their bodies here to find,” Autem instructed.
In reply, the barons took turns beating Autem with their fists. The jolts of pain that shook Autem’s body were easily washed away by grim satisfaction. In the near future, he would become Emperor of Gradaia. Therefore, the discomfort he was feeling was a small price to pay to secure his family’s future.
CHAPTER 9
The next morning, Autem returned to Chrysos’ gates bloodied and beaten to a pulp. To his pleasure, the guards and city’s residents were convinced by the exterior façade. Eventually, Autem made it inside the Imperial Palace, where he was greeted by physicians and the palace courtiers.
When one of the courtiers asked what happened, Autem feigned grief and replied, “The Coven ambushed us! Those bastards butchered my brother! They hung my nephews like common criminals! Gods have mercy on them! I barely managed to escape!”
As Autem expected, the courtiers believed his words. In addition, one of the courtiers said, “My Lord, we are pleased you survived and we share your loss, but there is something else you should know.”
Once again feigning innocence, Autem demanded, “What? What is it?”
After a moment’s pause, the lead courtier announced, “Your father, Emperor Gregor XIII Sylva, is dead. He died an hour ago from a heart attack.”
Autem struggled to hide his smile and thought, Excellent! The poison worked! Agatha has done well!
Hesitating briefly, Autem asked, “What does this mean?”
In response, all of the guards and courtiers bowed down to Autem and shouted, “Hail Emperor Autem III Sylva!”
On the outside, Autem appeared at a loss, but inside he could not stop celebrating his triumph . . .
__ __ __
A couple hours later, Autem was resting in his bedchamber after being looked at by his physicians. Now that he was alone, Autem made no attempt to hide his smug smile. His coronation would not take place until he recovered, but Autem was already planning his first acts as emperor.
To begin with, Autem’s deceased family members were to have Imperial funerals. It was a tradition for members of the Imperial family to be cremated in a pyre before having their ashes mixed with molten gold. Then the mixture was molded into a statue of the deceased’s likeness and placed in the crypt in the Imperial Palace. The crypt also possessed the look of an art gallery as every statue was a work of art as well as a way to immortalize Imperial royalty. Once the funerals were done, Autem would be free to be crowned emperor.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at his door and he called, “Enter!”
The door opened to reveal Autem’s wife Agatha, who was dressed in an ornate evening gown. Her growing belly was prominently seen through the fabric. They smiled at one another as Agatha closed the door behind her and climbed into the bed.
In a cheerful voice, Agatha said, “This whole thing came together rather well. Soon the Imperial Throne will be ours.”
Gently placing a hand on Agatha’s large womb, Autem countered, “I did not usurp my father, brother, and nephews for my own sake. I did it to give our child a secure throne, a full treasury, and a legacy of goodwill to thrive off of. I did it to consolidate our family’s future in a way that my kinsmen never could.”
Sighing heavily, Agatha demanded, “Can’t we enjoy the power we are about to receive?”
Autem gave his wife a fierce look and hissed, “Having power for power’s sake is a pointless mindset to adopt. Sooner or later, you and I will be long dead and the power we hold will disappear. Wonder who will hold that power after us? Our heirs and their heirs and so on into infinity! Therefore, power is only useful to ensure the survival of your bloodline. Without your bloodline, it will be like you and I never existed. My kinsmen threatened to destroy all of that with their corruption and decadence. They thrust a terrible choice upon us and we made it.”
Agatha paused for several moments before saying, “You know the populace will demand justice for the deaths of your father, brother, and nephews once you are crowned.”
Autem adopted an assuring expression before replying, “Do not worry about that, My Love. I had the barons round up peasants, killed them, and dressed them with the Coven’s garb and weapons. When the Imperial soldiers find them, they will be convinced of my story. As for providing justice, I will just say that the Coven’s secret base is just an ordinary village full of expendable peasants. With that village wiped out, the populace will be appeased and our hold on the Imperial Throne will be secure.”
Agatha chuckled, “Always the shrewd politician, aren’t you? I am glad my father made me marry you.”
“Me too.”
After those words, the couple shared an intimate kiss and savor their forthcoming destiny . . .
CHAPTER 10
The next evening, Numen rested by a river in the Umbran forest that was a several miles from Magnus Keep. After traveling aimlessly through the wilderness, Numen was left drained. Without a scabbard to hold Gramfyre, Numen carried it by slipping it through the left side of his belt.
It was a cold night and Numen was left shivering. He had not eaten in almost a day and he could feel his strength start to wane. Fortunately, Numen was able to find fresh water in the river to tide him over. Fear crept into Numen’s mind as he contemplated the idea of being hunted in the dark forest that surrounded him. If he did not eat soon, he would not have the strength he needed to defend against potential Baal patrols or wild animals.
Pulling Gramfyre from his belt, Numen slowly took steady steps into the river’s freezing waters. Struggling to keep his hunger and impatience in check, Numen stood over the river and squinted his eyes to see through the murky current. At the first sign of movement, Numen thrust his sword into the water and pierced a twelve-inch trout that twitched wildly on the tip of the blade.
Unable to contain his hunger anymore, Numen snatched the slippery fish, tossed Gramfyre onto the nearby bank, and sank his teeth into the fish with ravenous ferocity. At first, the raw fish’s taste was unnerving. It was like biting into a slimy mass of pulp. Numen was concerned that he might accidentally swallow the fish’s thin bones down the wrong pipe by mistake. Still, his hunger quickly pushed aside his disgust and he continued to eat. Within moments, all that remained of the fish was its mangled spine and Numen felt a sense of deep satisfaction wash over him.
Eager for more food, Numen walked back towards the bank to recover his sword. However, the moment Numen picked up Gramfyre there was the sound of nearby footsteps. Numen looked up and jumped when he saw two of King Robar’s men; one wielding a sword and the other wielding an axe. The two men glared at Numen with fierce intensity like a pair of predators stalking their prey.
In an instant, the two soldiers fell on Numen with great savagery. Desperate to defend himself, Numen swung Gramfyre to the side, slicing through the sword-wielding soldier’s abdomen. The man fell instantly and Numen was forced to fend off the axe-wielding soldier. When their weapons clashed, the impact threw the axe off course enough to miss Numen’s head by mere inches. The axe-wielding soldier tried to swing again, but Numen grabbed his axe arm before thrusting Gramfyre into the man’s throat. Choking on his own blood, the soldier collapsed limply next to his fallen comrade.
Numen panted heavily as he processed what had happened. He looked at his hands and saw that they were stained by his enemies’ blood. Consumed by volatile
emotions, Numen fell to his knees and shivered with shock.
“Four . . . four men I killed in two days! How many more do I have to kill before it is over?” Numen exclaimed in disbelief.
Slowly getting a hold of himself, Numen looked down at his attire and murmured, “I need armor or I’m not going to survive another attack.”
After much thought, a revolting thought crept into Numen’s consciousness. Looking at the two corpses beside him, Numen noticed their leather armor and chainmail.
Shaking his head with disgust, Numen whispered, “I can’t believe I am resorting to corpse robbing.”
Hastily, Numen scrambled to the body of the axe-wielding soldier and started removing his brigandine armor, chainmail hauberk, gorget, leather gloves and boots, vambraces, rerebraces, couters, and pauldrons. It was a difficult process to put the salvaged equipment on without the assistance of a squire, but Numen made it work. Within moments, Numen replaced his casual clothing with the scavenged equipment. However, Numen discarded his foe’s surcoat because it bore the sigil of House Baal: a red skull on a purple field. Numen had no interest in wearing the sigil of the man who murdered his family. The very sight of the sigil filled Numen with cold-blooded hatred and he drew strength from it. After removing the surcoat, Numen callously tossed it into the river and watched it drift away.
While checking the corpse of the other soldier, Numen found a satchel hanging from his belt. After searching through it, Numen found something that filled him with shock. Inside the satchel was a charred banner bearing the Magnus sigil. The flag was mostly intact with the exception of a few burns that dotted the fabric. Apparently, the soldier salvaged it from Magnus Keep’s ruins as a trophy.
Further examining the banner, Numen said, “So this is what has become of the true Imperial Family. Are we supposed to die like this after existing for thousands of years? Am I going to spend the rest of my days as a refugee and fugitive?” Numen contemplated these questions for several moments before declaring, “No! I will not let my bloodline end like this! I am going to avenge my family and then take back what is ours! One way or another, I will have salvation!”
Pulling the banner out of the satchel, Numen wrapped it around his shoulders to form a makeshift cloak. Numen checked the rest of the satchel’s contents and was relieved to see a loaf of bread, a block of cheese, and a bottle of ale. In addition, there was enough gold to last him a week. Closing the satchel, Numen freed it from the soldier’s corpse before slinging it over his shoulder. In addition, Numen scavenged one of the soldiers’ scabbards, strapped it to his belt, and slid Gramfyre into it.
His resolve absolute, Numen left the river and marched forward into the woods . . .
CHAPTER 11
After two days of hiding in the wilderness, Numen was at awe of Umbran’s scenery. Everywhere Numen looked there were forests, plains, hills, and valleys. However, what fascinated Numen more were the snowy mountains to the far north, which resembled a set of icy teeth.
Numen had eaten his scavenged rations and barely slept. He avoided the roads whenever possible, but Numen knew that without proper rest and replenished supplies he would not survive on the run. Eventually, Numen emerged from the dense Umbran forests to find a quaint village that sat on the outskirts of Welt territory.
The village was protected by a tall wooden wall with a garrison patrolling it. People from all walks of life entered its gates such as merchants, mercenaries, and farmers. Unknown to the village’s residents, they were about to receive a visit from an exiled baron; Numen himself. Upon reaching the gate, Numen was greeted by one of the guards, who was a man with a stern face and stocky stature.
Barring Numen’s entry, the guard gruffly ordered, “State your business for visiting.”
On the fly, Numen replied, “I’m a mercenary seeking a visit at the inn.”
After examining Numen, the guard further asked, “Did you take part in the siege of Magnus Keep?”
Confused, Numen asked, “Pardon?”
“You are wearing a cape that bears the Magnus sigil. Where did you get it?”
Numen hesitated briefly before answering, “Yes. I did take part in that battle. We brought those treasonous scum to justice! I took this banner as a trophy to signify my service to His Majesty.”
A bitterly venomous taste filled Numen’s mouth as he cursed his own family. If he was not in his current situation, Numen would punch himself in the jaw for what he said. Still, Numen waited anxiously for the guard’s reply.
Finally, the guard said, “Fine. Entry to this village is five copper florins. That will buy you a day’s stay.”
Rummaging through his satchel, Numen produced a single gold coin and gave to the guard, saying, “Here’s a gold florin. That should give me five days’ stay.”
Snatching the coin from Numen’s hand, the guard ordered, “In you go.”
Numen then proceeded into the fortified village and was overwhelmed by what he saw. The settlement was alive with activity with numerous wooden buildings and streets filled with hundreds of people. He could hear the clanging of blacksmiths forging and the smell of freshly baked pastries.
Every now and then, Numen would find Welts trading animal hides and ivory items for food and supplies. The Welts were a unique people with their blue tribal paint decorating their skin. Compared to their richer neighbors, the Welts wore simple fur pelts, leather clothing, and rusty chainmail. Overall, Numen found the Welts to be quite exotic. As he passed by the Welts, Numen became unsettled when one of them gave him a knowing smile.
As he went deeper into the village, Numen shook off the Welts’ unnerving glare. Feeling hungry, Numen searched for a suitable inn to eat and spend the night in. Eventually, Numen found an inn with a rather amusing name: The Drunken Drake. As befitting its name, the inn’s sign had the head of a dragon looming over a chalice. Curious, Numen decided to investigate.
Upon entering the inn, Numen was welcomed by the barely organized chaos within. Patrons of all kinds were enjoying relatively simple meals while others were getting into drunken fights with one another. The inn’s owners were struggling to maintain order. Still, despite the immense disorder that governed the building, Numen felt that he would be able to blend in well.
Approaching the front desk, Numen was greeted by a stout man with a curly mustache. The man gave Numen a welcoming smile and asked, “Good afternoon, sir. How may we be of service?”
Eager to eat, Numen reached into his satchel and pulled out five gold florins, saying, “I wish to stay for the night and the best meal you have to offer.”
Glaring at the gold coins, the inn keeper took them and said, “It will be done, sir. Go find the next available table and your meal will come shortly.”
Then Numen walked into the dining hall of the inn, barely managing to maneuver through the mass of bodies that blocked his path. Eventually, Numen found a small table that was positioned at the center of the hall. Upon sitting down, Numen felt like he was in the eye of a social storm as everyone around him continued to create chaos.
Numen could barely hear himself think as he sat quietly in his seat. His mind was consumed with thoughts of his family and what he should do to avenge them. Sadly, as much as Numen wanted to satisfy his vengeance, he knew that he could not achieve it without help. As Numen continued to think, he was struck by an epiphany.
Am I a fool to think I will be safe with my kin in House Letum? At best, they can only muster five thousand men while King Robar can muster much more than that. How can I avenge my family with those numbers? Numen thought to himself.
All of a sudden, Numen’s thoughts were broken when his meal arrived and he gazed upon it with great hunger. The meal that was presented to Numen consisted of roasted chicken, steaming soup, a bread roll, and a lemon pastry. Numen sampled each food item with ravenous enthusiasm. A wave of strong herbs struck Numen’s mouth as he sampled the moist chicken meat. After the chicken, the soup provided Numen with a warm, semi-spicy aftertaste. The brea
d roll was somewhat stale while the pastry was a crunchy shell that produced a fruity center. Finally, the pint of ale was so rich that it gave Numen’s mouth a powerfully sweetness. Within minutes, Numen finished his meal and sat content in his seat.
Then Numen noticed a small group of Baal soldiers drinking and singing together nearby. Trying to avoid detection, Numen kept his head down. Still, he listened to what the soldiers were talking about.
Finally, one Baal soldier drunkenly boasted, “So there I was at Magnus Keep. We burned the place down and came upon the household Sage. By the Gods was she tight and pink! We took turns having a go at her, but I had first dibs. Her screams were so joyous!”
The rest of the soldiers burst laughing, banging their cups and fists against their table. Numen’s blood boiled when he heard their words and he gripped his dining knife tightly. Still, Numen fought the impulse to disembowel the soldiers where they stood. He knew that attacking them would only draw unwanted attention to himself. However, Numen kept his knife by slipping it under his cloak and watched the soldiers clumsily leave the hall to the rooms on the other side. Never taking his eyes off the soldiers, Numen watched until he memorized which rooms they entered.
I will pay you all a visit tonight. Sleep well. Numen thought to himself.
__ __ __
At the break of dawn, Numen hastily left the inn before anyone was awake. As he exited the inn, Numen dropped a bloodied knife in a nearby alley. On the way out of the village, Numen used the last of his gold to buy more food. With determined steps, Numen marched out of the village towards the depths of the nearby Portum Forest. Inside the dark woods, Numen thought he could taste sanctuary from the hunting forces of House Baal.
CHAPTER 12
The following night Numen entered a part of the Umbran forest that was lush and green while the atmosphere was humid beyond measure. In the primordial darkness, Numen could hear sounds unlike any he had ever heard before.
Numen the Slayer (Magnus Dynasty Saga Book 1) Page 4
