Dragon: A Histories of Purga Novel

Chapter Six

"I am the future. The Varlamagnes are no more."

Every last person in Roanoke stopped what they were doing and watched their holographic vid-screens. A hooded figure's face took up the entire screen. The voluminous hood shadowed his face, giving nothing away.

"It is time for a new era," the voice said, confident and controlled. "An era of my might. The weakness of the royal family has been a tolerated curse for far too long. It ends now." He paused a moment. "The revolution has begun. If you are not with us, then you will die with the rest. The Blak Army will prevail. I urge you not to take arms against us. We will not show mercy to Crown supporters."

The mysterious face disappeared.

Mere seconds later, explosions ripped through Roanoke.

People ran screaming with terror. Others weren't so fortunate. The multiple blasts that ripped through the city killed thousands of people. Over a hundred buildings collapsed, killing more. The tolls of dead only rose higher. Troopers clad in black, military gear with high-powered blasters and laser rifles flooded the streets. They herded people into large cargo vehicles that rolled through the debris-filled streets. The ones that tried to run away or fight with their nanos were gunned down and killed.

The vehicles rolled away, carrying their prisoners with them.

The hooded figure stared at the large vid-screen displayed over the wall in front of him. It flickered with blue, luminescent light. There were easily over a hundred different screens plastered on it, each one with a different view of the city. Smoke and fire seemed to invade almost all of them. Black clad warriors filled the rest.

He smiled and reached up a hand to his hood. He pulled it back.

"W-wilhelm?" a voice suddenly asked. It was hoarse. Barely there. "You...you're dead. I watched you die."

Wilhelm turned to look at the man that had spoken. Once a friend, a brother, but no more. Now, he was little more than a murderer. He turned to look fully at his prisoner, King Rowan.

The king's eye widened in shock. Half of Wilhelm's face was a twisted mass of scar tissue and lumpy, reddened flesh. In spots that ranged in size, he could see thin sheets of metal covering the skin. The eye on that side had somehow survived but the skin around it looked like melted wax and gave it a slouched, droopy look. His lips had been burned off. When he grinned, it gave his face a sickening, skeletal look.

"Yes. Hard to look at, isn't it?" he asked with a sneer. "Imagine what Katrina thought when I finally made it back to her. Needless to say, our love did not survive it."

"So the answer was to attack your home? To kill your own people?" King Rowan asked, breathing hard. He tried to move but couldn't. He'd been poisoned by some toxin that paralyzed him from the neck down. He couldn't even remember how Wilhelm had managed it. "Why didn't you have our doctors heal your face? Why resort to this instead?"

"I went to the best doctor's we had to offer," Wilhelm replied, his eyes filled with hate. "They could repair damage to my flesh but they could not recreate it. In some places, my skin had been completely burned away. I survive thanks to my own ingenuity. But like they said, I cannot replace what was lost. I can only patch it and prevent infection."

"This isn't the answer," Rowan said. "Rebellion and murder will only leave us weak and unprotected."

"Maybe, but it's not like it was difficult. Actually, it was all very easy," Wilhelm replied, smugly. "Do you even realize how much hatred some of your people have for you and your family? No? I didn't think so. If you had, I doubt this revolution would come as much of a surprise to you. I guess that, more than anything is what angers me the most. Your simple arrogance. You think you can just rule people and they will love everything you do. That's not the way it works. The majority of your people are not happy with their lives and I used that to form the engine of your own destruction, the Blak Army. And we will rule all."