Renouncing the Emperor's Heart

The Old Man

Twenty eight miles from where Empress Jovine succumbed to a septic slumber, her hooded brother balanced on a rickety rooftop, comfortably splayed out as if he wasn't mere seconds from collapsing into the earth.

Cracking open a walnut, Elias Rainer leaned against the clay tiles and counted every cricket chirp singing in the air. He crunched on the pit, bored out of his mind and wishing he had a bottle of rum to wash it all down, but there was an unmistakeable thrill that kept him patient.

Click.

The little chirping bastards stopped singing.

Elias closed his eyes, a wicked smile stretching across his face

"Did you get it all?

Grating scrapes on the cobblestone street were all that answered the hushed man's whispers.

"Quick, light it up."

Swoosh.

The first lick of smoke snaked through the night. Elias leaned over the rooftop to join in on the fun.

As he expected, three heavily cloaked figures stood across a lavish building — possibly the best looking one in this modest town — with lumpy sacks of stolen goods settled beside them. The structure was a stunning ebony wood with tasteful glass windows, but the true masterpiece was how divine it looked engulfed in red flames. Inhaling the fumes, Elias crouched on his knees with renewed glee shining in his green eyes.

The men stayed to watch their good work, no thoughts of fleeing the scene dawning upon them. Instead, they waited for the wood to char, a few beams to collapse, until they hoarded buckets of water to cease the fire. It look long moments to dissipate, but by the end, what used to be a gentleman's club was now a seared message to the noble who owned it.

We can burn you.

What a beautiful sentiment.

"He'll be waiting," a stocky man murmured, rapidly collecting any remaining sacks. "Let's get out of here."

"I still think we should have incinerated it."

"You want the whole town to burn?"

"Silence," a woman hissed. "We know what we had to do. Now, we leave."

Elias tilted his head, resting his chin on his knuckles as he watched them scatter apart — all three of them leaving in different directions. One North, one South, another West. In the blink of an eye, their bobbing hoods vanished into long, dark alleyways.

He smirked.

Oh, they were making it too exhilarating for him. He loved a good chase.

Slinking down the pipes of the old antique store with the rickety roof, Elias glided through the shadows, barely a silhouette that reflected from the crescent moon. He swished past brick alleyways and bound himself to the walls, his eyes traveling along the outlines along a dirt path. The dark was his friend, the thrill a high that added a little skip to his step. He could practically smell the burnt ashes clinging to his hooded strangers.

Elias stopped short behind a large shed. Still intertwined within the heart of the village, he watched the three figures converge in a narrow backstreet. They seemed to be waiting for nothing, their bodies still and unmoving, when a fourth hooded form joined them from the shadows.

This one towered over the rest, his stature broad and enigmatic.

Thoroughly intrigued, Elias inched closer for a better look at the man's face.

Unlike his arsonist strangers, who kept their appearances disguised in the safety of their cloaks, the towering, mystery man unveiled his face. The man's lips moved in a quiet whisper, directing orders, but all Elias cared for was the reveal of his long graying beard on an elderly lined face.