The Wanderer's Path: Return of the Beasts

Chapter 4

“I don’t care if those savages you call people starve to death and begin eating their own children. You will pay the taxes, or I shall set fire to every blade of grass that covers your mundane land. Do you hear me Harriod?” Kallor’s voice resounded through the large chambers, leaving in its wake an uncomfortable silence that none of the lords dared fill. Servants bringing wine to their respective lords sat at the two large tables in the room paused, not wishing to draw any attention to them as the aura blanketing the meeting darkened. The chastised man’s cold, grey eyes burned with a fire Kallor new well, hatred. Hate me all you want Harriod, I rule this kingdom, and it is under my rule that you even have lands to call your own.

“Yes High King, we shall… find the money my King.” The proud horse lord of Hazar replied through gritted teeth. His thick leather vest and dark skinned leggings seemed crude compared to the grandeur and opulence that decorated every wall of the castle of Denocropolis. Hazar’s long brown hair was tied into a tight plait that ran down the man’s back and despite the snickering behind his back he held his head high amongst the other lords that filled the room. If there were one thing that could be said of Harriod, it was that he had the unbreakable will of a King, a trait Kallor couldn’t help but admire. Kallor dismissed him with a wave of his hand, finding the savage lord’s impudence too tiresome to deal with any further.

He gazed around the chambers looking at the Lords and their dignitaries from across the empire, each of them eager to address their own irksome issues. There were humans from Drakanor dressed in opulent silks of various colours in the latest Denocropolis fashion, some even wearing the dark eye lined makeup that had become popular of late. Why would anyone want to look like an expensive whore? He saw half elf princes from Tae’iel. He hated those money grubbing brats, but their power hungry chess games had to be played carefully. Their lands provided the Sylix empire with vast amounts of resources that they would be hard pressed to find elsewhere.

Opposite the half elves, sitting on another table sat Rhul Akalar, dream walker and religious leader of the hardy desert people of Amun, and next to him, holding Kallor’s former position, was Prime Magister Phenulor Behylmiad, a pathetically weak mage, but one with an exceptionally sharp mind that continuously plagued Kallor with his vivid interest in politics.

“You grace, if I may.” Gordult, one of his advisers interrupted his train of thought.

“You may not!” He snapped, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. My patience is wearing thin. Hundreds of years without a war and these fools have forgotten exactly why I created the empire in the first place. They sit here bickering to me about petty theft and family squabbles. None remember the pain and sacrifice others have made so that they may sit on their cushioned thrones and pretend to be men.

“Is it so hard, to pay one’s dues? I built this empire to protect us from the suffering and senseless deaths of the past. I carry the burden of this crown and the weight of the empires souls. Am I to run an empire with the shake of a hand and a pat on the back? Am I to watch you pompous fools indulge in your wine and whores whilst my empire starves and dies?” Kallor glared at the sullen lot of ingrates. Holding their tongues, each single one of them.

“Your grace, the empire is hardly short of -”

“Silence!” Kallor bellowed, twisting his magix like a thin wire to sew the insubordinate elf lord’s mouth shut. The elf’s hands clawed at his mouth as he tried to work his mouth open to the horror of his associates.

“How dare you interrupt your king! I should have your head!” Kallor trembled in fury. The nobles all watched on in silence as the half elf tried to mumble his excuses, his face draining of colour. Meeting Phenulor’s arched eyebrow, he sighed. He’s right; I can ill afford any troubles with Tae’iel right now. He released the spell, ignoring the fool’s gasps for life saving air. It did not escape him that Phenulor revealed a small smirk as the elf struggled for breath.