13
A quiet chaos reigned in Lupghana, capital of the Volakian Empire. The emperor had been kidnapped, and one of the renowned Nine Divine Generals lay dead. Such events were unprecedented, to say the least.
In an elaborate chamber far from the Crystal Palace, several figures held a secret conference.
“The emperor’s a sharp one—I think we have t’ assume he’s noticed by now.”
“ ” There was no answer.
“Startin’ to wish we’d finished him off at the castle? In the capital, with enough troops, we might’ve had a shot, but… Well, well.”
“I’ve had quite enough of your griping, Temeglyph…!”
A tall, slim figure had been speaking before they were cut off. The voice belonged to an attractive man who ran a hand through his dirty-brown hair, his almond-shaped eyes drooping. It was none other than the one believed to have died within the Crystal Palace, he whose untimely end had moved so many soldiers to prepare for battle.
There stood Balleroy Temeglyph, alive and well.
Another figure, the one who had interrupted, pointed a quaking finger at Balleroy. “This is all because you couldn’t resist embellishing things! What have we done that we deserve to be led on a wild-goose chase in our own country by a bunch of outlanders?”
“Force can only get ya so far. Can’t stab someone in the back when you’re comin’ at him from the front, can ya? As for the outlanders, color me impressed that they’ve given us so much trouble. Raisin’ so much hell in a foreign country—they must be better than we thought.”
“For an entire group of Divine Generals to be roundly defeated is a disgrace to the nation. If Eight-Arms were still alive, we would never have suffered such an affront.”
“That name’s real nostalgic and all, but he’s dead as dirt.” Balleroy shrugged at the man’s rueful tone. To hear the name of Volakia’s old hero after this litany of complaints was enough to bring a tear to his eye. “Anyway, time to stop lookin’ to the past. He ain’t fit enough. And Eight-Arms, well, he didn’t give himself the finest send-off. Am I wrong?”
There was no response.
“He was supposed to defend the capital, but instead, he betrayed the city to one of the Archbishops of the Seven Deadly Sins and then got himself killed in the fighting… As legendary heroes go, it wasn’t much of an ending.”
The other man clenched his fist at Balleroy’s less than reverent words, then sighed deeply. “…The emperor must not return to the Crystal Palace.”
“Y’ can just leave that to my own personal guard. Most of the men won’t even get near that li’l group—Master Goz’s orders, see. If we can finish ’em off in the meantime, it’s our game. Even if they get away from us, eh, so long as we keep Lugunica’s knights quiet, there won’t be anyone t’ question us.”
“Question us? Now who’s playing the upstart? You and I are rebels against His Majesty the Emperor of Volakia. Don’t be so naive as to think you can still escape as you please.”
“Ha-ha-ha, that was just a joke there. Empire humor. I’ve spent long enough with His Majesty t’ know that if you gamble and lose, you don’t live long enough to do it again.”
Balleroy had toiled hard as one of the Nine Divine Generals, all under the banner of Vincent Volakia. He didn’t have any illusions about receiving any mercy from the relentless ruler. The man was cold and cruel, smart and violent, but was one worthy of claiming dominion over others.
“Gotta say, I feel bad for His Majesty.”
They couldn’t know who would be sitting on the throne when all was said and done. He had no personal hatred for Vincent. In fact, there was reason to be grateful to him. There had been no real cause for Balleroy to question his loyalty, either. Did that mean, then, that the person he now plotted with commanded more commitment and trust from him than even the emperor? Not really. This was simply the logical conclusion of Balleroy’s ideals, of what was in his heart. The emperor he knew wouldn’t condemn hostility born of such a reason but would instead nod with understanding. After that, it was merely a question of which of their personal philosophies would prevail.
“Right, okay, let’s get to gettin’. Figurin’ out where he is now… You and I both know that’s what’ll settle this fight.”
“I certainly do!” The other man, incensed, pounded the table with his fist. Then he took the conversation mirror from his table and pointed off somewhere, giving instructions for battle formations. Though he was not on par with any of the Divine Generals, this man projected more than enough of a menacing presence. It was this very reason that Balleroy had chosen him as his coconspirator in this rebellion. His combination of ambition and authority was perfect.
“Welp, s’pose I’d best get moving myself,” the traitorous general decided. Balleroy picked up the spear leaning against the wall and began to slowly make his departure.
“Where do you think you’re going, Balleroy?”
“Not feelin’ so numb anymore, so I think I’ll get some air.” He waved to his coconspirator without halting his stride. The slight twist of his lips could have been taken for self-mockery, but he didn’t feel like letting the other man see it.
“Don’t even think about making any decisions on your own.”
“On my own?” Balleroy answered quietly. “Don’t be silly. If I wanted to just sit around, I never woulda talked to you.”
“…!” The tone was so restrained, yet the other man felt his throat tighten with fear. Balleroy realized he had accidentally let a bit of his bloodlust slip into his words. Still, he didn’t apologize for it, choosing to just leave the building. He was greeted by the welcoming cry of his mount. The quality of his smile changed when he heard the familiar call of his friend, and Balleroy looked up with a sincere grin.
After a long moment, he spoke.
“How about we get going, Carillon? Do what we’re really here to do, eh?”
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