Falling Kingdoms

“I think whatever my opinion is on the subject, my father will do as he pleases,” Magnus finally said. “As he has always done.”

The chief laughed out loud at this. “I think your son knows you too well.”

“Quite,” King Gaius said with amusement. “So, Chief Basilius, what say you? Do you agree to my plan? Auranos has grown lazy and fat over many years of peace and won’t be able to withstand an unexpected attack. They will fall, and together we will pick up the pieces left behind.”

“And these pieces we’ll pick up,” Basilius mused. “Are we to then share them evenly?”

“We are.”

The chief leaned back in his seat and surveyed all those in the meeting room slowly. The four men standing at his back had curved daggers at their belts and were dressed from head to toe in leathers. They looked ready to head into battle today if given such an order.

“Are you aware of the rumors about me?” the chief asked. It took a moment for Magnus to realize he was speaking to him directly.

“Rumors?” Magnus repeated.

“Why I am the chosen one to lead my people.”

“I have heard stories that you are the latest in a line of sorcerers once touched with elementia. That your ancestors were among the Watchers themselves, those who were guardians to the Kindred.”

“You’ve heard correctly. This is why I am the chieftain of my people and why they trust me beyond all others. We do not have a god or goddess to worship such as you do. My people have me. When they pray, they pray to me.”

“And do you hear these prayers?”

“In spirit, I hear all of them. But when they want something badly enough, they will offer a blood sacrifice to show honor to me.”

Blood sacrifice? How deeply savage. No wonder they were a dying people, reliant on a handful of vineyards to keep their economy from stagnating completely.

“How interesting,” Magnus said instead.

“The greatest sacrifice must be something that one truly values. To sacrifice something of no value is meaningless.”

“Agreed.”

“Is that what you’re asking of me right now?” King Gaius asked. “A blood sacrifice to show honor to you?”

Basilius spread his hands and turned toward the king. “As there are legends about me, there are also many stories about you. It is difficult to separate truth from fiction.”

“What have you heard?”

“That you are a king who accepts no less than perfection from all of those who surround you. That you tax your people until they can barely feed themselves. Your army polices the villages of Limeros, and anyone who strays outside of the rules you’ve set forth will pay dearly for their error, often with their lives. That you will torture and execute anyone accused of witchcraft found in your land. That you have ruled your kingdom with violence and intimidation and that your people fear you even as they bow at your feet. That they call you the King of Blood.”

If Magnus had been required to speak after that little speech, he was certain that nothing would have emerged from his mouth. These were the rumors about King Gaius?

How incredibly…accurate.

He watched his father closely for his reaction, fully expecting him to lash out with threats and anger, throwing the chief and his entourage out of his kingdom immediately.

Instead, King Gaius began to laugh. It was a dark sound edged in danger and it made a chill run up Magnus’s back as it echoed through the cavernous hall.

“Such stories,” he said. “Magnified for entertainment value, of course. Are you offended by such possibilities?”

“Quite the opposite,” Chief Basilius replied. “A man like that is one who would not sit back and let others fight his battles. He would fight them himself. He would kill and take what he needed, when he needed it. Are you that man?”

King Gaius leaned forward, all amusement fading from his face. “I am that king.”

“You want Auranos, but I can’t believe it is merely due to outrage over a murder committed in my land. Tell me why you’re so driven to align with Paelsia to take it.”

King Gaius didn’t speak for a moment, as if assessing the man before him. “I want to watch the ruler of that land suffer as he sees his kingdom slip away from him and into the hands of someone he hates. This is my opportunity to have that.”

Chief Basilius seemed satisfied by the answer. “Good. Then there is only the matter of you proving yourself to me in a way more tangible than words. Do this and I pledge to give this matter deep thought and have my final answer to you soon.”

“Prove myself through blood sacrifice.”

The chief nodded. “I want you to sacrifice something you care about very much, something over which you will mourn the loss.”

The king’s gaze flicked to Magnus. Magnus’s grip tightened on the edge of the table. His palms were damp.

His father couldn’t possibly agree to something so savage, not at the mere whim of this Paelsian peasant king.

“Tobias,” King Gaius said. “Give me your dagger.”

“Certainly.” Tobias slipped his plain, steel-bladed dagger from the sheath at his hip and handed it to the king hilt first. “If you need a suggestion, your majesty, there are several thieves in the dungeon currently awaiting trial.”

“Would that be acceptable to you, Chief Basilius?” The king rose from his throne on the dais. “Thievery is not a crime with a death sentence here. At the most, they would have had their hands severed. The unnecessary loss of any Limerian subject’s life would also be a loss to my kingdom, to my economy—and therefore to me.”