Bad to the Throne, page 38
part #15 of The Good Guys Series
“You were not born a Glaton citizen! You have a past that is somehow hidden from anyone who looks into it, even though there is no way to do that. You appeared out of thin air and waltzed into nobility, somehow becoming a major player in a game you neither know how to play nor have real stakes in. And the place you chose to make your home was chosen for a much greater purpose than what you have chosen to put there.”
“I think you need to slow down and explain a bit more–”
“I will explain nothing to you! You deserve nothing unless you agree to give your votes to me.”
“And then I get the explanation?”
“And then you join the right side of history. Of being part of something greater than you are. It is a matter of saving the very world itself! When presented with that, then I am willing to do what it takes to make that happen.”
“Oh come on, you’re out to save the world too? What the actual fuck are you talking about?”
“Yes. I am talking about saving the world. And I am talking about you being opposed to that. Whether that is the path you have chosen or a position you fell into, I don’t know. But I offer you the means to step to the other side. Not just out of the way, but where you might help. Where you might lend you great talents and power to saving the people of this world from an evil you cannot fathom.”
“You’re saving the world from evil?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m in the way of that.”
“Again, yes.”
“And I can be, not in the way of that, if I just give you my support and vote to make you Empeor.”
“Yes.”
“Fully knowing that you are the reason people I considered friends and loved ones are dead.”
“I fear that might be the case.”
“That’s a big ask.”
“Perhaps. But if you were given the information I was, you would likely have done whatever was necessary, would you not? I have seen how much you fight to protect what you consider yours–”
“I don’t fight for what’s mine. I protect those who ask for it.”
“Is this world not yours? Would you not protect it if asked?”
“Yeah, but what am I fighting against? Just some nebulous evil?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“Convenient.”
“Is it? It is my burden to know the truth, and as Emperor, I must shoulder that and shield my people. I would not have rumors spread, lies go about and corrupt the populace so that they are unable to protect themselves.”
I stared back and took a slow sip of liquor. This conversation was insane, and I needed a second to think.
My first inclination was that she was in the cult. She used an awful lot of the same language. Maybe the cult gave me the information about her because they wanted to see if I’d do nothing to her, as a test of loyalty. But, if she was in the cult, her actions didn’t make any sense. In fact, if she and the princess pooled their votes together, Regina would likely be able to win without even needing my dumb ass.
But the language, similar though it was, did have some key differences. It was not about making hard choices to change the world, it was making hard choices to save the world. Which then begged the question, was there a second cult? Which, obviously, yes. There were probably as many cults in Glaton as Coney Islands in Detroit.
But the more I thought about it, the less I thought that Regina and Katja were on the same team. Maybe, in fact, they were on opposite teams.
And if that was the case, what the fuck would the cult want me to do? Kill her?
While I had paused to think, she’d taken the moment to drink, downing another two glasses of the liquor in quick succession.
“The thing I don’t understand,” I said carefully, choosing my words and working to keep my temper in check, “is why you committed treason to save the world. That seems like a bad idea.”
“Treason?” she asked, slurring slightly. “How is it treason if the entire world is at stake? What is the importance of a single country without a world?”
“I mean, it’s kind of a big deal, though. Makes it hard to trust you.”
“Then is that your answer?”
“I don’t think I gave you an answer.”
“For a man who claims to hate small talk, you certainly have done a fantastic job saying nothing of worth in this entire conversation. It is clear you will not vote for me, and, thus, our conversation is over.”
“Is it though?”
“Yes,” she said, and she rang a bell.
I had time before someone came in the room. I could get up from the chair, smash her face through the window and dispose of her quite easily.
But there was something so pathetic about her in that moment— a drunk older woman who was clearly terrified out of her mind. Shaking and pounding booze because she probably thought that I was going to get up and kill her.
I couldn’t do it.
This wasn’t a fight, and I knew I’d hate myself later. Especially if she managed to do something worse than what she’d done so far. But I couldn’t murder her there.
I did stand up, and I did glare at her.
“We are not done,” I said to her. “You will pay for your crimes.”
“I will save the world, Montana of wherever you come from. And the world will forget you ever existed. But know that I will tell the truth about everything that has happened, and when I do, no one will care about you.”
The door opened, and a footman smiled at me.
“Shall I escort you to the–”
“Escort his grace to the upper parlor, if you would, Charley,” Baeder said, looking out the window.
“Of course, your ladyship.”
95
The upper parlor was a miniature ballroom on the second floor. It had a beautiful parquet floor, some huge arched windows looking out over a magnificent garden built around a truly behemoth fountain, and even a surprisingly large ensemble of musicians along one wall, playing half-heartedly at best.
But more interesting than the room itself were the occupants. Baeder had managed to gather all the important members of the Senate here, including all those running, as well as Valamir and some other older individuals I knew to be heads of the major noble houses.
It was weird to see all these people together outside the Senate. Kind of like seeing your teacher at the mall. Everyone was in their little cliques, talking quietly.
I walked in a ways and just sort of stopped, because it was too weird. Why was I here? And why I had just left Katja?
But then Katja walked in behind me, and I felt a gentle hand on my back as a footman guided me to the center of the room, where we were all gathered together.
Katja waved her hand. The band, now at our backs, stopped playing.
“I wish I could say my friends,” Katja said, her voice surprisingly clear, all trace of slurring gone, “as I start this speech, but I fear we are currently at odds. And yet, when I look out amongst these faces, I see the only people who can understand what we are going through. We are bound together by the blood of our ancestors, the blood that has been spilled to bring forth this Empire. I think we lose sight of that at times, that we are meant to work together for the greater good of the Empire. So I bring you together here, tonight, where we might discuss things. Not the election,” she laughed a little, “but just the little things that only we few who are at the top, who must govern, might know and deal with.”
Waiters moved through the group, handing out flutes of bubbly wine.
“A toast,” Katja said, “To the future of the Empire! May it grow ever brighter.”
Most everyone in hoisted up their glass and repeated the toast. I felt a little weird doing that, so just stared at the wine instead.
“To the Empire,” someone in the group said, and there was a second toast.
I frowned, just feeling off.
And I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if the musicians were going to kick back into gear.
But the musicians had gotten up from their seats and spread out around the room somewhat. Katja was over by the door, having a hushed conversation with a member of her staff.
Was she going to speak some more? Admit what she’d done?
Not likely.
“Can you take this?” I asked, holding my glass out to a passing waiter, a older man who was hurrying to the front of the room.
He glanced at me, surprised, and then continued on at speed.
“Rude,” I said.
My confusion only grew when I realized that the waiters had surrounded us in the front and the musicians had done the same in the back.
I looked over just in time to see Katja nod, and then the room thrummed to life with arcane energy.
96
Brilliant green bands of power seemed to rip from the aether into reality, forming a cage around the room, trapping everyone but Katja and her people on the inside. There were no bars on the floor, but I could see some on the ceiling, and a quick estimate made me think that we were in a cube.
“What the fuck?” I whispered, mainly to myself.
“What is the meaning of this?” Edgelord bellowed, seeing the bars.
Katja smiled, her face taking on a rather vile, predatory grin.
“I do apologize,” she said, coming somewhat close to her group of magicians. “You see, things were taking a little too long with the votes. You all seemed unable to get out of your own way.”
“So this is your next bit of treason?” I asked.
“Is it treason if it is done for the good of the Empire?” Katja replied.
“Yes,” Valamir answered.
“Want to come clean?” I asked.
“I am hardly the dirtiest one in this room,” Katja said. “I have only done what needs doing so that Glaton might survive to hold our children safe.”
“Seems a bit like you are killing my children,” the elder Edgemond barked.
“There will be some casualties, of course. But perhaps your house has ruled long enough.”
I felt eyes on me, and I saw the princess staring.
“Or, perhaps the Glatons,” Katja continued. “While I must give that family credit for starting the Empire, what have they done in the past century but destroy all that made us great and put us in war after war? How many souls have they damned to the worst of hells because they cannot be satisfied with the land they have already taken?”
The green bars seemed to be closing in on us. On the other side, I could see the people who had pretended to be waiters and musicians chanting softly under their breaths.
Naturally, one of the younger members of the Edgemond family pulled his sword and charged at Katja Baeder.
He first tried to cut through the green bars, but his sword passed right through. This made him snarl in excitement, and he lunged forward.
His body had a slightly different reaction to the bars, as he didn’t exactly pass through the bars so much as pass around them. The arcane bars of energy sliced through all the organic bits of his body, and he came out a bloody, semi-cauterized mess of flesh on the other side.
Notably, though, his sword was fine. Whole and unmarred on the floor.
There were some gasps and shouts. Someone threw up.
“The Senate will not stand for this,” someone in the cage said.
“They will not care,” she said. “Those who dance below will not miss those who die here. You have served your purpose to the Empire, and the Empire will exist long after you expire.”
“Do you think you could put me through one of those holes now before it’s too small for me?” came a whisper in my ear.
I whipped my head to the side and saw that a ruffle on my shirt was now on my shoulder and talking to me.
“What?” I hissed back.
“I’d just prefer to not die here with you, if it’s all the same.”
Just for a second, the ruffle changed color and I saw the orange plume and blue face of Nimble the ear worm. He smiled at me.
“Nimble?”
“Obviously. But we are running out of time, and–”
“We’ll talk about this later,” I hissed, knowing I needed to focus on the immediate issue of not dying before figuring out what Nimble was up to. “I’m not about to die here, not to this stupid plan.”
“... and if you would, I have a ball to attend,” Katja said, curtsying at the door, having continued talking while I was dealing with the return of Nimble. “You may begin.”
She walked through the door, and left us with the magicians working on killing us.
I could hear someone trying to speak to the magicians, offering them money to let us out.
But the magicians were unwilling to listen. Or maybe unable. Same difference really. They were focused on us, and they were focused on killing.
And at that point, the bars disappeared, replaced by flames. Flames everywhere around us, trapping us within an inferno.
“Great,” Nimble said. “Now what?”
“Oh, fire I can deal with,” I said, pulling Nimble off my shirt before tossing him over to Valamir. “Valamir, hold my worm.”
97
I girded my metaphorical loins, and walked into my own immolation.
Behind me, someone started screaming.
But then I was in the fire, and I could only hear the roar of flames.
For a moment, a very short moment, I felt nothing.
And then, pain. Pain was everywhere. A strange blend of the destruction of my body and the reconstruction of my body.
One foot in front of the other, I grit my teeth and ignored everything, because nothing at that moment mattered. Just moving forward.
Except I wanted to stop, because it hurt. And I was tired of the hurt. I was tired of the perpetual pain, of always fighting. I wanted things to just… stop.
You seek power, a voice bellowed at me, echoing in my head. A deep voice, brutal and primal. Submit. Obey. And you will be all powerful beneath but me.
I tried to ignore that as I fought to continue through the fire.
But the voice wasn’t done.
I offer you all you want, and more, it said.
“You have nothing I want,” I bellowed, leaning forward and powering myself through the flames.
Oh, but I can offer her–
I almost hesitated, but I had momentum behind me, and I wasn’t stopping.
I stumbled the last step. Coming out of the flames, my skin charred and cracked, smoke coming off my body, my eyes barely functioning, my lungs raw from breathing in the heat and trying to speak while in the middle of the inferno.
But I’d made it to the other side. I dropped to my knees.
98
There was a moment while I knelt on the floor, gulping in massive lungfuls of gloriously cool air, that I wanted to just lay down. I wanted to give up, feeling that I’d done enough. The mere act of getting through the flames had been enough to validate whatever else was going to happen. That maybe it might be okay to let all the others burn.
And in that same breath, that cool breath that seemed to heal my lungs, I remembered that something had been talking to me inside the fire. Something promised me everything if I would submit to it. And it’d mentioned something, at the end, about a girl.
That was the wrong thing to say, to me at least. Because there was no girl — not anymore. And even if there was, she wouldn’t want me to give up now. Or to hurt other people for her.
Even though my skin was still cracked with semi-boiled blood leaking out of it, I stood up, clenching my teeth against the excruciating pain.
I looked through rheumy, ruined eyes at the mages surrounding me. Their eyes were closed, they chanted softly, and power thrummed out of their extended arms, fueling the inferno.
For a half-second longer, I let my body heal. Then I grabbed the neck of the nearest spell slinger.
He made a yeurk noise, and his eyes went wide as my face came in close.
And then my forehead went into his skull, smashing it.
I tossed his body as hard as I could at the next mage, tangling the two up.
A quick step over to the left, and my right fist was moving, punching through the face of a third mage.
It devolved quickly, the pain and rage and frustration subsuming my sense of self until I was little more than a killing machine, slaughtering the mages. That was all the thought I managed to hold on to — I wasn’t going to kill everything, just the mages. Just the people making the fire.
After the sixth one died, the fire began to falter, and the mages started to realize something bad was happening.
The tenth one managed to throw a spell on me, some sort of arcane bolt that smashed against my chest, splashing magical energy all around me, burning a hole in my shirt before singing the carpet.
It didn’t save him, He died just like the rest, in a bloody mess.
As I came to the last mage, I saw a young woman cowering in front of me, begging for her life.
I towered over her. Blood — my own and others’ — soaked my clothes and dripped down on her.
“Please,” she said softly. I realized she spoke in Mahrduhmese. “Please…”
I reached down and there was a hand on my shoulder.
I snapped around, fist up, ready to punch whomever had come to attack me.
But it was Eliza.
“Don’t,” Eliza said, her voice calm. “It’s over.”
“She has more value to us alive,” I heard Valamir say, but I ignored him.
“You’re oaky?” I asked.
“Are you?” Eliza replied.
I used the back of my hand to wipe the sweat out of my eyes, only to realize it was blood. I’d only made things worse, smearing the blood all around.
Lowering my hands, relaxing my shoulders, I nodded.
“It’s over,” I said.
99
It’s safe to say that the ball was over too, and had transitioned into plain old pandemonium. Also, my one-man-show was over, replaced by all the most powerful people in the Empire bringing hell to bear on Katja Baeder and anything associated with her. There would be an interesting Senate session in the morning.
