Guul'Zaroth Ch.26 - Fury

Let it never be said, Rolf thought to himself, that Karina Haydn was not an excellent instructor. Within just a few minutes of astute direction through whispered cues and quick hand signals, Rolf felt he was getting a feel for the art of stealth. Following her lead, they managed to evade the few guards they encountered. The night was still quite early and the security seemed to be scrambling toward the front gates. Rolf assumed that meant Miles' distraction was working.

Vague though the engineer's directions may have been, Rolf and Karina did come across a necronom maid who was easily persuaded to give more specific information. All it took was a few growls and threats to grease the wheels of conversation.

"How much farther?" said Rolf as they dashed up a tall flight of stairs, flanked by intricate stain-glass windows of green and silver on either side.

"Just a few more floors but don't get ahead of yourself. Orlov is going to be guarded, day or night, regardless of the emergency. A cautious man like him will have his best men at the doors."

Rolf mounted the final step, cracked his knuckles and grinned toward his companion. "I've seen you fight. I'm not worried."

"You flatter me Rolf," Karina replied. She matched his smile and give her crimson hair a graceful toss. "But you're not wrong. Let's move."

The halls on the highest floor were straight and narrow, less designed for fortification and more for luxury. Finery lined the walls and most rooms they passed were guest chambers, libraries, dining rooms or bath chambers. Either the builder presumed nobody would get this far in the event of a raid or that it wouldn't matter. The most dangerous part of any vampire's castle wasn't the guards or the defences. It was the master's chamber.

They grew closer to Orlov's personal chambers and Rolf noted the further increasing focus on aesthetics. The corridor they traversed was lined with portraits of the Count from centuries gone by. Elegant, masterfully crafted and no doubt rather generous with their depiction. The earliest portrait was dated to 1873E.

"I can beat him," Rolf thought to himself.

As much as he tried to focus on the task at hand, his mind was suddenly overwhelmed with the span of Orlov's existence. To this being, Rolf's entire eighteen years on this world were nothing more than a momentary spark against a roaring flame.

I can beat him! he repeated in his mind.

Orlov had lived for over eight-hundred years at the bare minimum and Rolf sought to oppose a man of such experience and knowledge?

"I CAN BEAT HIM! FOR LAURELEI!"

The apprehension in Rolf's heart was overwhelmed by his dauntless drive to rescue his friend.

"According to the servant girl, those doors up ahead should be the lobby where Orlov's guards are waiting," said Karina. "No hesitation, just rush through!"

Rolf pushed ahead and charged the door shoulder first. He hit the solid wood with all the force of charging bull and while there could have been a lock on it, it wouldn't have mattered. Rolf's assault took him straight through the middle and smashed half the portal into splinters.

In a flurry of stray door chunks, he burst into a wide, rectangular lobby, landing only a few short metres from an octet of Orlov's royal guard. The whole room was immaculate with a lovingly crafted, impossibly detailed scene carved into the stone walls. It appeared to depict all peoples on their knees and bowing before a single, feminine figure above the door. She was dressed in flowing robes and was possessed of surpassing beauty in the vampiric sense and it could only have been the Black Queen Mordica. Even the floor here; alternating black and white stone tiles, were finer than the rest of the castle. They were so sleek and clear that Rolf could see his reflection in them.

The guards stood lined up on either side of a long red carpet, vampires dressed in a substantially more ornate and polished version of the Orlov army uniform.

In less than a second after Rolf's entrance, Karina moved to his side and the vampires were at the ready. Each soldier drew and took aim with a crossbow, men at the front dropping to a knee and those at the back taking a single step toward their near side of the room.

With eight crossbows trained on him, Rolf immediately stepped in front of Karina and draped his right arm over his heart. "Do it!" he roared at his foes.

They obliged. A volley of bolts shot toward him and at this range, all eight hit flush across his chest, stomach and shoulders. One arrow landed right in the area of his heart and skewered through the back of his hand, pinning it to his chest.

The sensation of barbed spikes punching through his flesh shot through Rolf's body, eight times in rapid succession. It stung torturously, a kind of suffering that could send a man into shock, drop him to his knees screaming and begging for mercy. But Rolf just smiled. He forced it with all his might, every ounce of will he could muster was used to stretch that ear to ear grin across his face. He wanted to scream out in pain and the urge was irrepressible. Anything to drown out the steady pitter-patter of his stale, rotting blood evacuating his body and splashing across the castle floor.

He remained silent, just smiling for several seconds while the guards watched him with stunned curiosity. He had to make some noise, some kind of vocalization. So he laughed. "Hn! Hmhmhmhmahahahahahhh!" he howled while flashing a wide-eyed glare at his attackers "You idiots!" In that moment, Rolf ripped his hand away from his chest, taking the bolt with it. He held the impaled appendage up so all could see and clenched his hand into a fist, snapping the wooden shaft in the process.

"If you stand between me and Laurelei, you are nothing corpses that just haven't fallen down yet!"

In that instant he was upon them. So startled were they by the display of sheer will and fortitude that they neglected to reload their weapons. Hands flew toward quivers but they weren't fast enough. The first man on Rolf's right was caught with a wild, under-hand swing so fierce it splintered his crossbow, ripped both arms from his body, shattered his rib-cage and sent him hurtling back like a missile, slamming into the ally directly at his back.

"What in all the hells is this!" one of the vampires screamed.

Without pause, Rolf vaulted over the two vampires collapsed at his feet and descended on a third. His cleaver arced around in a diagonal path that would have ended at the next target's head, but the soldier was ready and back stepped, wisely abandoning his empty crossbow and reaching for the sword at his hip. The weapon was nearly halfway from its sheath before Rolf righted his blade and plunged it straight through the enemy's belly with so much force that it skewered his entire body, burst from his back and landed square in the face of the next man in line, leaving his skull split in twain.

The massive slab of metal was still sharp and in all of Rolf's sleepless nights as a necronom, he ensured the blade was regularly maintained. With it's weight and Rolf's ceaseless, undead muscles, it tore through all but platemail as if it were merely paper.

"Put that madman down, fire at the heart!" The four remaining vampires trained their freshly reloaded bow-guns on Rolf, steadying for that vital shot.

In the midst of a primal roar, he kicked the now limp body off the end of his blade and whirled on his enemies. Instead of striking with it, he threw his weapon up as shield, straight across his chest, just as the triggers were squeezed.

Three of the four men loosed their bolts. The fourth dropped to the ground with a sliced throat, his weapon firing off toward the ceiling. In the ferocity of Rolf's assault, they had almost entirely forgotten about the justiciar standing at the door.

Two of the fired bolts clattered uselessly against Rolf's sword. The third fired wide and punctured his right thigh. Rolf felt that one scrape the bone this time but at this rate, pain was a non-entity for him. In moments he was charging the remaining adversaries, blade grasped tightly in hand.

With Karina behind them standing at the ready and Rolf bearing down on them, the soldiers were left with few options. Urgency and instinct overcame panic and hands flew toward swords. They split into two groups, one man attacking Karina and the other two stepping forth to intercept Rolf.

The soldier took one swing at the justiciar before he realized how hopelessly outmatched he was. She brought her blade against his and trapped his weapon in her cross-guard. With a twist she wrenched it from his hands, sent it to the floor and thrust the point of her sword straight into one of the tiny eye-slits in the man's helmet.

As if a complete mirror to Karina's skill and poise, Rolf was howling like a berserker and hacking away with complete abandon. With one sweep he disarmed the man to his right. It was intended to be a lethal blow but the vampire managed a parry, though the weight and momentum behind Rolf's sword sent the defender's weapon soaring in the air. With a second stroke, Rolf slammed his sword into his foe's waist. If it hadn't passed through the left arm first it might have had enough force to be a bisection, but Rolf settled for ripping foot wide gash through the mid-section and severing the spine.

The final soldier stumbled back from Rolf's range and straight into Karina's. In less than a second she had her arm locked firmly over his windpipe. It didn't take nearly so long as strangulation as she took a solid grip and gave his head a sharp twist. A loud snap echoed off the walls and all at once the clamour of battle disappeared.

Karina looked to Rolf now with a cold gaze as she wiped the blood from her sword. He was drenched in vampiric gore, occasionally mix with his own. His hair was sticky with it and matted to his face, the white fur collar of his coat stained red. Yet more crimson filled the ever growing pool on the ground when Rolf wrenched his blade from his final target and sent the red essence gushing forth from the newly formed chasm in the man's torso.

"What in the Guardian's name was that!?" she asked, snatching him by the collar and pulling him down about six inches in order to stare eye to eye with him.

"What was what?" he growled back.

"That! You went on a bloody rampage! You were like some kind of damn animal!"

Rolf averted his eyes toward the mess he'd made and with a small grunt he pulled away. "I... I don't know," he said as he ripped the first of nine crossbow bolts out of his chest. "I've just had trouble holding back my temper since Gutterwink took Laurelei and I did everything I could to keep it under control. It wasn't like a normal anger." Rolf paused, wincing hard as he extracted yet another bolt. "It hurt. It burned when I tried to hold it back. This isn't me trying to be poetic or anything, I mean it. There was a real, physical pain there. After I took all those shots, it overwhelmed me and I lost it. I can still feel it too." Rolf held up his sword and ran his eyes over the red-stained, dripping blade. "This. Every moment I'm not swinging this, I can feel a burning sensation in my head. I can barely stand it."

"Rolf, you can't do that again."

"Why the hell not? I fought better back there than I ever have before!"

Karina shook her head and took a deep breath. "Rolf, if you don't control your anger it's going to become a problem for you. Sometimes I get the sense that it already has."

"I'm fine," he replied as he tossed aside the last bolt.

"You're worrying me Rolf. You are not fine!"

"I will be as soon as we get Laurelei back, now let's stop wasting time!"

In that moment they found their conversation interrupted by a scuffling sound to their right. Movement, struggling of some kind. A still living soldier had regained consciousness, knocked into a dazed state when one of Rolf's victims slammed into him. The man rolled over onto his stomach, clutching his head and groaning loudly.

Both Rolf and Karina readied their weapons but before they could make a move, something else did. A shape darted from the shadows and pounced on the vampire. He let out a screamed as he was driven back down to the ground and pinned there with a long, curved sword jammed straight through his.

With its face set in a broad smile, Gutterwink stood crouched on the now lifeless body of one of his own comrades. Its long tongue ran across jagged teeth and the thing rumbled out a low cackle. "Hmhmhmehehehehehhh!" It slowly rose to its feet, pulling its sword from the body along the way, and stood poised for combat with a blade in each hand.

"You!" cried Rolf, taking a step forward and brandishing his sword.

"Yyyyes!" it gurgled. "Ssssstronger! So much stronger is the raggedy boy! We fight! We fight again! Come and kill me! Kyahahahahah!"

"No!" said Karina, abruptly taking Rolf's place and shoving the boy back. "This thing is still too much for you! You can't just overrun him like the others and you certainly can't intimidate him. But he won't get past me."

"He's my fight, Karina!"

"Don't let your stupid pride get in the way and go! Rescue Laurelei, that is your fight."

"Then let me help! We can beat him together."

"I'm a duelist, you'll only get in the way! Now go before I lose my patience with you!"

Rolf grit his teeth and held his ground for a moment, eyes locked with Gutterwink's hollow sockets. "Damn," he whispered and dashed toward the door, leaving Karina alone with the assassin.

Such was Gutterwink's confidence that he had seemed content to wait and let the two have their little debate on the matter. "Mmmm, wanted to fight him," it said. "Doesn't matter. Gutterwink will just kill you both!" The necronom lunged forth with swords lashing in every direction. The blades were a blur of motion, so swift that eyes perhaps less keen than Karina's would scarcely be able to follow them.

She stood at the ready, feet together and sword held at arms length. Gutterwink soared into her range and an exchange of steel took place. Karina was every bit as fast as Gutterwink, if not more so as she kept his twin swords at bay. Not just swift, both combatants were remarkably precise as well. Gutterwink unleashed an endlessly flurry and Karina parried each and every blow with perfect timing. From left to right, she flicked her sword in deliberate sweeps and intercepted an endless parade of strikes.

On the surface, both fighters looked completely even but one would tire of this back and forth. The other would not.

Gutterwink pressed his attacks harder and Karina began sliding back on her toes, rhythmically sweeping one foot back after the other. She maintained her retreat and though she dare not look behind her, she knew her back was growing ever closer to the wall.

"Yes! Yesssss! More!" Gutterwink rasped above the cacophony of clashing swords.

Beads of sweat formed on her brow, she was growing exhausted, and for the first time in the fight, she struck back. A swift horizontal stroke that hit nothing but air as Gutterwink weaved his head away from the weapon's path, but the manoevre had served its purpose. Karina had given herself a single moment to breath and with it she bent at the knee, arched her back and leapt into the air. Her whole body extended like a spring and she soared in a backwards arc toward the wall, turning in mid-jump as she did. With all the grace of a master acrobat, she kicked off the wall, bounced over Gutterwink's head and landed like a pouncing house cat. Her boots touched down in the middle of the chamber and she returned to her fencer's poise, though now with a cocky smirk to accompany the stance.

"Hrrrraaaaaagggghhhahahahahahhhh!" The thing howled with laughter and threw its head back. "The red lady is good. The red lady looks like she'll be... tasty. Mhmhmhmmmm!"

"You really are a disgusting creature." Karina too allowed herself a small laugh. "When I end your vile existence the world be a better place for it."

"Rip and chomp the flesh!" it cried as it dove back into battle.

While the commotion of battle faded away behind him, Rolf ran up the winding spiral staircase of the high tower. After several minutes of tireless dashing, he came to the top of the spire where only a single wooden door stood between himself and Count Kazimir Orlov. He extended a hand and laid his palm against the door, exhaled deeply and pushed inwards.

He stepped out into an absolutely gargantuan bedchamber. The entire room was octagonal and seven of the eight walls were in the form of massive bookshelves. The eighth, the one at the head of the room, bore a massive portrait, largest and most grandiose among all the others in the castle. It also appeared to be the most recent, dated at 893E3. It depicted Orlov in full and for the first time, Rolf could appraise his adversary in his current form. With those tapered ears, cold eyes and nine-inch claws, he looked every bit like the monster Rolf had imagined he must be.

It was only now dawning on Rolf how bizarre Orlov's portraits were. Not one of them depicted him with anyone. Always he stood alone. No portraits of the count with wives or children. As old as he was, he'd spent that entire existence without taking on a spouse or an heir? What Rolf didn't understand was that this stood squarely at the core of who Orlov was. He could only see family attachments as one of two things. A weakness to be used against him or a potential betrayer to reveal his secrets.

The rest of the room was arranged almost like a stage with a wide set of steps leading up to a raised platform where Orlov's gargantuan coffin sat beneath his portrait. It stood more than twice as wide as was strictly necessary and bore his house crest on the face. Excepting the door through which Rolf entered, there was singular exit. A small wooden door on the right-hand side.

He stomped forward, mounting the steps two at a time and dragging his weapon behind him. As he came to coffin's edge, Rolf suppressed the growing urge to simply plunge his sword downward and kill the count then and there. He still didn't know where Laurelei was and so some interrogations would be in order.

Sword readied, Rolf took hold of the lid to Orlov's coffin and threw it open. "What the hell!?"

From within lie not the vampire count but instead, a swarm of huge, brown rats, squirming and squealing as they surged forth like a wave. They spilled over the edge and onto the floor where they crawled in droves over Rolf's feet.

He recoiled and whirled around to spot the vermin congregating at the bottom of the staircase where they formed a singular mass. Crawling over one another, the rats piled into the frame of a man before warping into Orlov's shape. He stood exactly as depicted in the portrait above, with his mouth set in a thin, straight line and his brows arched in disapproval. "Who... are you?" he said with utter disdain.

"Where's Laurelei!?" Rolf barked as he pointed his sword toward Orlov.

The count appeared confident in the safety of the few metres separating himself and Rolf, the edges of his mouth tilting up in a taut smile. "Ahhhh, so you must be him. The boy she said was going to kill me." The count took to examining his nails while he spoke, not even bothering to make eye contact with his assailant. "I'm impressed, I truly am. You've infiltrated my castle, fought your way through all my guards and even circumvented Gutterwink. But you must understand, you've no hope of success."

Rolf's jaw clenched tightly and his hands formed shaking fists. "Where. Is. Laurelei!"

"You are possessed of a one-track mind, boy. All the easier you make this for me."

"If you don't tell me where she is, I'll beat it out of you!"

Orlov's heavily lidded eyes narrowed and his smile broadened. "I am eager with anticipation. Do it, boy."

"Rrrraaaaagghhhh!" Rolf leaped from atop the stairs and brought his blade above his head. Swift was his descent and his blade swung downwards with his body, aiming to split Orlov clean in two.

In Rolf's mind, the count would move to defend himself at any moment. Dive to the side, unleash some defensive magic and parry with a hidden weapon. But none of this happened. The count remained motionless, grinning at Rolf until the moment that huge blade passed through him. And pass through it did, with no resistance whatsoever. The sword moved as if through air and clanged against the stone floor (leaving a sizable mark in the process) and Orlov's body dissipated into wispy tendrils of grey smoke.

"What!?" Rolf said in disbelief.

A slow clap arose from Rolf's left and he turned to spot Orlov standing by the exit and offering a most patronizing applause. "Pathetic."

Rolf wasted no time and charged Orlov again, bellowing another battle cry as he did.

Orlov calmly raised a hand, suddenly coursing with blue-black energy, and flicked his wrist toward Rolf. A bolt of magical force sprang forth from Orlov's fingertips and smattered against the necronom's chest. It burst into a thousand little sparks and fragments, throwing Rolf back several metres and tumbling against the hard stone floor.

"You're far too noisy for my tastes and as much as I'd like to silence you, I have things to attend to. I must bid you farewell for now." The count's feet lifted from the ground and he hovered in place like a phantom. The door at his back flew open without so much as a wave of his hand, and he floated backwards at alarming speed.

"Get back here!" Rolf exclaimed as he scrambled to his feet and took off in pursuit. The door slammed shut behind Orlov but Rolf simply cut it down and ripped through to the other side.

He found himself in a long hall that quickly gave way into a shallow but lengthy staircase, stretching from one tower to another. The walls on either side were almost entirely arched windows with matching tracery. At the end of the corridor stood Orlov, looking utterly pleased with himself.

"Tell me!" Rolf cried. "Tell me what you've done with her!"

Orlov smugly stroked his chin and paced from left to right. "You fascinate me. Exactly who are you that you so vehemently hunt her? Is somebody paying you perhaps? Has she made you some promise of reward? I cannot fathom what purpose she serves to you that you would go so far to reclaim her?"

"I am Hrodwulf Von Ziegel!" he cried, jabbing a thumb toward himself. "I'm not being paid and I'm not trying to exploit her like you. I'm just a little girl's friend and I won't let you, or anyone else hurt her!"

Orlov's face lit up with glee at Rolf's response and a mocking laugh slipped from between his lips. "You cannot be serious? Ahahahahhh! I'm even a little embarrassed that naught but a stupid boy with a misguided affection for the princess was able to get this far."

"I've heard enough from you! If you're gonna fight then fight, dammit!"

The count shook his head at Rolf's assertion. "I'd not dare sully myself against a common brute as yourself. No, I have others to do that for me." At that moment, Orlov pulled his hands from behind his back and slowly extended them out to his sides, claws splayed wide. "Vestiam nyctoris kanum altori," he whispered in Zarothi. Yet it carried across the hall and penetrated Rolf's ears, ringing in his head and clinging to the back of his mind.

Within seconds, a strange noise filled the air. It sounded like the beating of wings but far too large to be any bird or bat that Rolf could could think of. Dark shapes flitted past the windows, too quick for him to identify but nearly man-sized by his quick glimpse. Then, the windows on either side of Orlov shattered inwards and two figures burst into the corridor.

They hissed and howled in unknown gibberish and wore ghoulish, demonic faces with horns and jutting teeth. Strangest of all, their bodies appeared to be made of stone and yet light enough to soar through the air like birds of prey.

Orlov lifted his hands and his abominations rose up full height.

They were just a head shorter than the count, but far more broad and with thick, powerful limbs. Their fingers and toes ended in curved claws and they each had a long, sweeping tail that dragged on the ground behind them.

The amusement had drained from his features and he appeared to be all business again, grimacing dryly. "Kill him," he said flatly.

The gargoyle to the left darted out the window from where it entered while the one on the right beat its wings and flew straight toward Rolf with claws outstretched. It roared a deep, echoing noise as it closed in.

Rolf took a swing at the incoming thing but it swerved to the side and circled around to his back. Before he even had a chance to right himself after the strike, another shatter filled the corridor and the second gargoyle crashed into the room directly to Rolf's right. He tried to turn and counter but it was blindingly fast and slammed into his chest so hard he could hear a rib crack. Rolf and the gargoyle, tangled together, went careening through the next window. His cry rang loudly through the night before fading away as his body disappeared into the dark swaths of shadow below.

Orlov watched the events transpire with a mix of boredom and contempt. "All too easy."

With that nuisance out of the way, Orlov turned his attention to the window and the scene playing out before him. From here he could survey all of his castle and the surrounding lands. Within his walls his soldiers formed ranks, scrambled to get defences primed and mounted the walls with a small army of men and heavy crossbows. Further out, in the distance moved an enemy force. They brandished torches openly and marched in organized fashion. In their front ranks were no less than a dozen siege cannons. Their numbers were impressive to have sprang up from nowhere. He estimated they were less than a twentieth of his total forces, but he had far less than that at his castle for the moment. The majority of his armies were occupied dealing with dissenters across the province, collecting taxes and continuing the facade search for the missing princess. Despite the size of this force, the Count could spy no heraldry to identify this mysterious army.

"It appears this is going to be an eventful evening." His words dripped with frustration as he turned on his heel and marched off.

Inside the study, Laurelei begrudgingly sipped on her glass of blood and flipped through the countless pages of notes she'd scrawled up. "This should cover all the essential information," she mused to herself between sips. "But I should keep studying and absorb as much as I can while I still have the opportunity."

The girl's reading was promptly interrupted by the sound of encroaching footsteps and within seconds, Orlov appeared in the chamber.

"I was wondering when you'd be back," said the princess as she laid down her quill.

"I require silence." Orlov didn't even look in her direction as he thrust his hand toward her and expelled a magical flash of light.

She managed a little peep before being enraptured by semi-physical chains of shadow energy that sprang forth from Orlov's spell. Before Laurelei knew what was happening, she was pinned to her chair and her mouth was sealed shut by a strip stretching from one cheek to the other.

"Mrmph! Mrr me mrmble!" she said in what Orlov assumed was some form of protest.

Naturally, he declined her whatever it was she was mumbling about.

The Count strolled right past Laurelei and toward the crystalline sphere in the centre of the room. Palms outstretched, he hovered his hands above the sphere and it produced an azure glow. Carefully and deliberately, he pressed his hands to its cool surface and closed his eyes, focusing deeply and taking steady breaths.

In his mind he suddenly stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking his own lands and gazing upon his own castle about to come under siege. He spoke not a word at first and simply stared at the sight with a measured curiosity before turning his attention to the man at his right, Atticus Lockhart. "Good, you're much closer than I anticipated," he said calmly.

Atticus stood alone, dressed in his armour and drinking of a wineglass that swirled with human essence. "Count Orlov, I wasn't expecting you here. Something urgent to discuss?"

"You do see that army approaching my castle, do you not?" he replied with an exasperated dryness. "You're dressed for battle so I assume you are readying your forces to intercept."

"Potentially."

Orlov's eyes widened and his mouth curled into a frown. "Potentially!" he said in disgust. "I am under enemy attack and severely undermanned due to your schemes! You will intercept the enemy!"

Atticus took another sip of his cup before sighing deeply. "I ran out of the fine stuff days ago. These military rations are unfit for a beggar." Carelessly he tossed the glass over the cliff and let it disappear into the darkness.

Orlov recovered his composure, straightened his jacket and continued calmly. "Do not ignore me, Atticus. We have an arrangement."

"No, we do not."

"What are talking about?"

"Why are you keeping secrets from me, Orlov?"

The count felt an icy sensation settle in his stomach. "He doesn't know. He couldn't possibly know," he thought to himself. Whatever he was feeling, he didn't allow it to show on his face. "I am a spymaster, secrets are my essence. You will need to be more specific."

"Do not play the fool with me Orlov. I know about Laurelei."

"... I believe there's been some sort of misunderstanding. What do you think is going on here?"

The vampire prince rolled his eyes. "I am growing tired of these games so I'll simply get straight to the point. You have my sister in your castle and you planned to marry her and cut me out of the scheme."

His face twisted into a scowl and he narrowed his eyes to a glare "That is not possible. How could you could know that? Only two people know of this, myself and..." Orlov trailed off into silence as a realization dawned upon him.

"You have your spies and I have mine," Atticus smirked. "I believe you once said to me, 'He understands little, but discretion is one of his gifts.' An apt assertion, but I'm afraid I was already quite aware."

"You couldn't have done this! Gutterwink has been my loyal assassin for nearly a century!"

Atticus' eyes widened and his smirk became a fang bearing smile of demented glee. "And he has been the Lockhart family's private assassin since before the days of Mordica! Hmhmhmhm!" The prince's voice oozed with a hereto unprecedented level of emotion, permeated with pure joy at the unravelling of his own plot. "It was too perfect! The man who trusts none, let's no being get close enough to betray him, allows a single servant into his plots. An agent planted in his service precisely to create the illusion of a perfect, infallible operative. One incapable of disobedience or deceiving its master! All true, undeniably so, but you were never its master!"

That look in his eye, it shook Orlov to the core of his body. Never before had the prince been anything but composed and haughty, yet now? Now he bore the aspect a man confined to an asylum. For Orlov, to think that a man with such a mad disregard for sanity held so much power and indeed, had clear path to the throne? Chilling was the only word he could use to describe it.

He said nothing for what felt like hours, though it had truly been less than a minute. He just stared at Atticus as he revelled in his victory, laughing like a maniac, so unlike him and yet so raw and vitriolic. "You... you will not embarrass me like this! I will bring upon you suffering and consequences you cannot fathom!"

"No. Mhmhmhm! You will die. And then once the enemies overtake your castle and I just so happen to be witness and arrive to stave off the intruders, I will be heralded a hero of Agares. Such a feat should smooth things along when I present my appeal to expand my borders to encompass your lands as well. All that was yours will be mine and you will forever regret opposing The Lord of War, Prince Atticus Aleksandr Lockhart!"