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The churches? Hardly. As soon as Khazerai took over a kingdom he ba
Regardless, with Khazerai standing in front of his seemingly endless Yulen legions and requesting to “parley,” swift acquiescence soon followed. And so, a mere quarter century after he had taken over the small country of Yulen, Khazerai now ruled the entire continent.
And it had all been so easy, he thought. Too easy? No, there had been a fair share of difficulty along the way. The attempted coup in the early days of his reign by a trusted lieutenant leading a small contingent of soldiers still loyal to the old Yulen king. They had been dispatched immediately and a
And yet it could all come tumbling down around my head if I do not stop what is happening, he thought. Now Khazerai heard the clamor of swords on steel outside the citadel as his troops engaged the invading enemy. The two immediate options were fight or flight, and yet he sat on his throne for a few more seconds, pondering the inexorable chain of events that had led to this.
It had all started about a year ago, when his lieutenant had come to him with a report on what the dictator had thought was a minor matter. “My Eminence, there has been a disturbance on the outskirts of the Western Marches. A family was in arrears for taxes, and the local magistrate had them executed and their pig farm confiscated as an example to the others of your far-reaching will. However, the youngest son of the assistant pig tender survived, and has vowed revenge on both you and the empire.”
“The orphaned son of an assistant pig tender is coming after me?” Khazerai was hard-pressed to contain his mirth. “Post a ten khaz reward for his head, and send the local patrols out with orders to kill him on sight.”
“It will be done, My Exaltedness.”
And Khazerai had thought that would be the end of the matter. However, a few weeks later, as he had been deciding whether to expand his empire to the east, where the Torlingan horsemen roamed the grassy plains, or to the west over the mountains, long rumored to be a land of untold wealth and strange, foreign races, his lieutenant strode up and bowed low before the Throne of Black Blades.
“Most Powerful One, I have news from the Western Marches.”
“Whatever about? Is the mud harvest especially good this year?” Khazerai asked, having long forgotten about the son of the assistant pig tender.
“Remember that orphaned boy who swore revenge against you?”
Khazerai looked up from his maps. “Orphan, orphan-something about swine, wasn’t it? What about him?”
“He has eluded or ambushed several patrols, claiming that they are a tool of the Evil Empire-”
Which they are, but calling my realm evil is a bit much, Khazerai thought.
“-and people in the area are already talking about him as a leader of the small group of rebels in the mountains there.”
Well, that won’t do at all, Khazerai thought. “Increase the bounty to fifty khaz and send a troop of my Night Guards down there to eliminate this local pestilence. Also, if he really wants to come after me, I expect he’ll need some weapons training. Instruct your men to find all of the weapons masters and either hire them or remove them.”
Khazerai was about to turn back to his maps when a thought struck him. “You know, not that I don’t trust our men’s abilities, but I do believe in being thorough. Hire a squad of Ladian assassins and send them there as well. Do not let either group know of the other’s mission. We’ll see who gets him first.”
“Immediately, Exalted One.”
With that Khazerai turned his mind back to more pressing matters. Two of his overbarons had been squabbling for weeks over a border dispute, and he decided to tour both holdings, to see for himself what the best way to handle the matter would be. During his month-long tour, he discovered malfeasance on both sides and promptly arrested both men and had them put to death, installing easily controlled puppet rulers in each one’s place.
But that had taken up an inordinate amount of his time, and he had scarcely returned to the gates of the Ebon Citadel when his lieutenant ran up, sweaty and disheveled.
“Forgive me, My Master, but this pig tender’s son-”
“Who?”
“The one who swore revenge on you a few months back when the local guards killed his family for nonpayment of taxes.”
“Ah, yes, been killed, has he?”
“No, I’m afraid not. In fact, there are several fiefdoms that are fomenting open revolt against the empire. They are led by this youth, who claims to have brought back the power of the gods to Cauldera.”
“What? What about the Night Guards that were sent over to kill him?”
“Lured into a trap in the mountains and crushed under an avalanche.”
“And the Ladians?”
“Um, well, that’s partially how he’s claiming to have brought the gods back, My Majesty. Apparently, while they were able to poison him, friends of his managed to find the leaves of the rare deusex plant, make the even rarer antidote, and save his life. He claims that during the time he was suffering from the poison’s effects, he spoke to the gods, and was charged with bringing their might back to your lands, and also eradicating the quote blight of evil unquote that hangs over Cauldera.”
“How melodramatic. Well, if it’s a fight he wants, then let’s give it to him. Assemble the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Dark Brigades and send them to the Western Marches. Scour the land and destroy this boy and anyone that stands with him. Do not take any prisoners, do not bring him back alive. Just kill him. Handle this yourself.” For a moment, Khazerai was seized by the mad impulse to add, “and you know the penalty for failure,” but with an effort, he restrained himself. However, in the back of his mind, he wondered where did that come from? Of course his soldiers knew the penalty for failure; demotion and, if they really screwed up, corporal punishment. He wouldn’t just kill them on a whim because they couldn’t complete one assignment. Good lieutenants were always hard to find, and killing the ones he had out of pique wouldn’t help morale at all. Perhaps this pig tender’s boy is bothering me more than I’d like to admit. However, I’m sure that this will be the end of the matter.
Unfortunately, that was not the case. Although Khazerai’s lieutenant did return with the charred remains of what he swore was the body of the rebel leader, along with a fairly stirring account of how the Dark Brigades had flushed the rebels out, encircled them, and burned almost all of them alive, reports over the next few months kept popping up about sightings of the leader of the rebels, the populace’s new messiah. Khazerai speculated that either the peasants were trying to keep his memory alive as a martyr, or the tenacious little bastard had somehow escaped the trap, and was ru