Shadowsworn

Chapter Seventeen - Avarice

The sound of heels upon the marble clattered through the hall, echoing into the silence. Sweeping through, her intricate and elaborate gown rustling along the floor, she ran her long and tapered fingers over a piece of rich mahogany furnishing. Dragging a finger away, her harsh face pulled into scowl. Her footsteps sped on forward, till she stood in front of a set of heavy double doors. She burst through in her usual dramatic manner, her stern eyes settling upon the rooms sole inhabitant.

"What is the point of having these peasants in our employ when they can't even clean?" she barked out, striding through the study, to the liquor cabinet. Pouring herself a hearty glass of the finest brandy, she spun back to face the man, slouched in a chair with a large glass of his own. "I loathe having to set my poor eyes on them. Least they could do is actually complete their simple tasks."

The older man sighed, looking at his young and vibrant wife, "My dear, if they aren't up to standard, I will arrange a new batch of servants."

"You better," she pursed her lips, "Keep the gardeners. Their work has been sufficient enough."

"Anything to make you happy," he conceded graciously.

She gracefully perched herself in one of the free leather armchairs, "I'm getting tired of waiting on Abna and his little plans. They are taking too long. This grand power he promised us, and the titles we deserve, are no closer than they were when he first came to us."

"Patience my dear. It shouldn't be long now. Everything should soon be in motion. And you will be elevated to the position you deserve."

"It best be. That man is slimy and despicable, he only wants the power for his own. You know that, don't you Yagos," she questioned.

"Yes Tula. I know all too well that we can't trust him, but he is a means to an end," he smiled greedily at his beautiful wife, "Soon as it's done, I'll kill him myself. For now however, he is required."

She shook out her golden locks, a permanent sneer now erasing her once ethereal beauty, "That will be the day I celebrate. He is a sly, old lech. It displeases me to spend one iota of time in his presence."

"You may wish to make yourself scarce then my dear. He is heading here to sort through a few of the finer details."

The disgust evident, she knocked back the last of her drink, slamming the glass on the table, "I will go shopping then. I refuse to put up with his company for the afternoon. I am not in the mood." And Tula flew out of the room, leaving a taste of ashes behind, her elemental crackling in her wake, her anger palpable.

"When are you ever in the mood?" Yagos muttered to himself. He had grown to love his wife dearly, her greed equal to his own, along with her blackened heart. Head strong, and powerful in her own right. And her beauty only rival to the Lady Princea of Narilia. Though with her youth came a certain rashness, and naivety that left him reeling at times. At twenty-one summers, she still carried the qualities of a child, ready to dole out tears and tantrums at a moments whim. Even that would not dim his love for her. She was the perfect partner and trophy, happy to keep the dregs in their rightful place, underfoot. And Yagos would give her the world if she asked.

Suddenly Yemi, his trusted attendant appeared in view, quiet as ever, "Excuse me, High Lord. Your guest has arrived."

"Show him in. And serve the refreshments," then muttering more to himself, "This will be a long meeting."

"Very good Sir." A disappeared from view once more, to attend to the tasks silently and with precision.

Yagos made his way quickly to the decanter of brandy, filling the glass once more, before draining it quickly. He placed the decanter back into the grand cabinet, choosing to keep a clearer head, in order to navigate the challenging task ahead. He was no fool. Master Abna Tal was a hard man to deal with, twisted with such greed and deceit, enough to worry Yagos at times. They had to tread carefully, or they'd end up victims to his butchering ways. Or worse yet, left with nothing.

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