An Eminence? No, I am just a reaper (OC story)

Winds of change 9

Speech = ''...''
Thoughts = [... ]

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Dolion was not sure what was going on..., it was not unheard to go in deep silence in the cults operations network.

They were everywhere and with so many operators and cells doing their own things, though rare, it was not impossible for everyone trying to keep things down for a bit. Not like he was high enough in the status to know much at all...

Not after being demoted thanks to that bitter old man once he fell from grace from the Rounds.

He clenched his fist, the memory was still bitter to him.

From being stationed in the city of Laugus to be thrown here in the Midgard kingdoms wilds as a mere runt...all while Lutheran got to still stay there even when he lost the seat at the high table.

This was not a perceived insult.

It was one.

The old man had screwed him over as if it was his own fault that he became sick..., well, perhaps....if he had found out that he had been bought to poison him that is, but if that was the case...it was surprising that he still drew breath instead of lingering without direction in the wilds.

The Knights of the rounds were a backstabbing lot, and the Loki faction had offered a lot. Too much for him to deny and get away with his life when the very master of the faction reared their ugly head into his life.

In a sense he had been screwed either way.

Deny the offer and die.., no one liked a snitch.

Accept and possibly die...painfully most likely, but you could perhaps get something out of it.

He bristled at the memory like an old man when confronted with an old foe...

Damn them...

Damn them all and their schemes...

A good servant would have stood steadfast against all sort of temptations..., even if their lives would be forfeit in the process. When one chose to follow a round, one was meant to do it for life..or until said round was kicked out or died.

They were their paws..., the manifest of their wills and the cults goals. As such, they were the representatives of their prides.

He was not such thing...

He was a coward at heart.., craven and greedy, for he had been left starving for far too long....

Could he be blamed for it when he took his chance? When he threw the dice and accepted to carry out the deal? No..., he knew that anyone else in his position would have done the same. They had been groom up from the dirt to be competitive above all things, to stand over the corpses of their fellow rejects, the climb...it was all that they believed, all that it was engraved into their brains.

To serve..

To fight..

To serve..

To fight..

Always for their betters, for the end goal, for the new world to come, and so..... this was no different.

It was not like they fulfilled any of their promises anyway, which he should have see coming a mile away. And yet the sting of the deceit and later discarded of his uses was still there, eating him inside...

He clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists.

By all means he should have been grateful to be alive..., but he was not. There was nothing to be grateful for...