The Aeterna Empire

Book 2.29 - The Third Morning

Fashir covered his face against the smog. 

From where he sat astride his horse, he saw over the crowd surrounding a burnt wreckage. They were going through it for whatever could be salvaged. To their disappointment there was nothing left here. The fire had been all consuming, and thankfully its consumption included itself. Whatever incredible fuel sparked it had not lasted long. Once the fuel was gone the sheer power of it was unstainable. The buildings were too far apart, and the firewalls did their job.

His father had his flaws, but he was far from incompetent.

Fashir turned his horse and gently nudged her into a trot. The mourning crowd parted before him without a word nor hiccup, and their bowed ashen faces left what was once a thriving, bustling district as cold and depressing as a graveyard.

The gate to Barjol's castle was understaffed. He noted only two guards. He last recalled ten.

A side passage opened and a servant ushered him in. The servant was a Kes-Blood. Fashir said nothing of it, but removed his cloak and handed both it and the reins of his horse to the pale man. "Thank you." He said automatically.

Two words. Two words was all it took to spook the man and send him hurrying away like Fashir was going to have him flauged, or someone else would witness. Fashir raised an eyebrow but otherwise said nothing.

The rest of the palace grounds was absolutely full. It once was an open plain with but a manor and port, and a small warehouse. Now there was multiple warehouses each larger than the last with one, he was pretty sure, being a pleasure house, the manor was twice as large, and there was what Fashir couldn't believe, but nor could deny, what was looked like a colliseum connected to the wall. Judging from the cheers and fanfair audible even this far it was bustling.

Just how many business ventures did his father tap into?

Fashir hurried to the manor and immediately stopped, aghast.

In the middle of the room were two nearly naked, bloody Kes-Bloods wrestling. Watching and cheering and throwing wealth on the table were four Ne-Blood. His siblings.

"What is this?!" Fashir demanded.

Caught offguard, the Kes-Bloods stopped what they were doing and froze in position where one was nearly pinned. Fashir's siblings told the Kes-Bloods to keep going, but Fashir was, by then, already on top of them physically separating them.

"Have you lost your senses!" Fashir exclaimed. "He is your kinsmen!"

The two looked at each other confused, then at him. They made motions towards his siblings.

On his sibling's part they had an array of disappointment and moans. The youngest sighed dramatically. "Why'd you have to ruin everything! He was about to kill him."

"He was about to what?" Fashir asked, unable to or unwilling to believe what he just heard. "Surely you jest."

"Surely, I see an opportunity to make some coin." The youngest continued. "We see the Kes-Bloods exercising and mock training and we can't just let that go without-"

His siblings had the understanding to cower and leave in his presence, but the youngest, it seemed, needed a reminder who was the heir apparent.

"So instead of ensuring the quality and health of the laborers, or, just maybe, appreciating some initiative, you choose to make a mockery of our family name having the slaves beat each other senseless so you can cheat your sisters out of their allowance?"

"Cheat?!" His sisters demanded.

"Yes, cheat. If you looked closely, you would notice how the soon-to-be winner, and no doubt our little baby brother's chosen-" the youngest scowled. "Was going easy on his kinsman because he is a veteran, probably with military training!"