Conquest

Savage - Part Four

The beautiful wooden door opened quite easily, after Savage crushed it to nothing more than mere splinters.

Of course, he wouldn't have to do it if they hadn't locked the door. Why did they always lock the doors? Those were truly stunning doors.

He left the hallway behind filled with the blood of dead soldiers smeared on walls, sculptures and various art works, and entered the vast room.

He looked around with impression. The half-circular room had a red carpet stretched across its entire floor. The wall in front of the door was mostly tall windows, letting the sun shine through and bounce of the crystal chandelier which hung from the ceiling, spotting the room with the colors of rainbow. A wide wooden desk stood in front of the windows, on top of it neatly stacked papers and a half empty bottle of wine, and a toppled glass dripping crimson liquid to the floor below it.

A bald man stood by the window, pressing his brow to the glass. His wore an elegant suit, if somewhat simple. Black pants wrapped with azure sash and a white silk shirt, covered by a black coat of leather. His hands were pressed to the glass, and even though his body was slumped with hopelessness, he did radiate some sort of authority.

Savage walked calmly to the desk and picked the bottle. He snatched the fallen glass and filled it to the brim, then swallowed it whole with one gulp. He finished with a long sigh and returned the glass to the desk.

"I hate this fancy shit. You can't get truly drunk from wine." He said, staring at the older man back. The Governor clenched his fists and turned to him, his eyes were red and wet, filled with shock and horror.

"Have you heard about the potato ale of the northern countries? Now that's something that'll knock you off your feet!" He said delightfully. The Governor didn't move. Savage shrugged and came to stand beside the bald man. To his great surprise, the Governor didn't back away, hadn't even moved a muscle.

Beyond the window Savage could see the merciless carnage of the shades. By the time Savage got to the Governor's office, those giant creatures already slaughtered most of the people in the square. Now the Beautiful plaza was a festival of blood and death. Hundreds of men, dead within minutes. Hollowed as they were, those shades could really get a job done.

"They'd all be dead soon." Savage said. The Governor didn't reply. "You should feel proud. you survived for quit an impressive time."

The old man continued to stay silent, and Savage rolled his eyes then asked, indifferently, "Will it help if I say they're in a better place?"

"Fuck yourself." Said the Governor with clear loathing in his voice. "What are those things?"

Savage blinked in surprise, and a little grin snuck up the corner of his mouth. The old bastard had guts.

"They are Shadow Hounds." He said, "Somewhat mythological, if I recall correctly, borderline godly. Still, nasty little fuckers. Perfect for that sort of work." And he pointed at the window.

"Godly?" The Governor raised a single eyebrow.

Savage shrugged. "Demonly maybe? I don't know. That's what people believed, anyway."

"How did your joke of a king got his hands on these things?"

"Don't flatter him. He ain't my king, and these ain't his things."

"Whose, then?"

"A friend. A very powerful friend."

The Governor nodded yet seemed like those answers hadn't quite satisfied him. "Who are you?" He asked.