I choose Power

THREE

Lord Zion, King of the Southern Raiders and the Western Mercenaries and more famously known as The Dark King drops his spoon with a clang that echoes in the room and a sigh of irritation. The entire room goes still, and each and every person's heart in the room stutters a staccato beat as they pray to their gods that they do not draw his attention. How he detests being interrupted from his meals. He peers up at the offending people from behind his low cowl and they quail. The prisoner who has been chained at the hands and feet and forced to his knees in front of him goes boneless with fear, melting to the floor before being jerked back up by the two men holding him down.

"What is your name?" He asks and they all flinch. His voice is a low menacing pitch, rumbling like the wake of earthquakes, the owner more menacing and volatile than any earthquake ever seen.

"Cllll---cllanc-cy mm-m-y Lord." The man stammers from the ground, the blood drained out of his face in fear.

"You stole from me." His voice holds no question and it would have been a fool thing indeed to attempt to lie to him.

"M-mm-my Lord." The man stammers. He falls forward on his forehead, offering himself to him. "Please forgive me, my Lord. I am your dutiful servant. I swear it on Mogden my Lord, spare me this once and I will be your most loyal servant."

Lord Zion studies him with uncanny colourless eyes and the people in the room shrink back, trying to make themselves smaller.

The simpering fool before him had stolen into his storage shed in the dead of night and had packed about three bags of precious storage feed with the intention of feeding his sickling mother. Mogden had not been smiling on him and he had been caught by one of the two brutes holding him up now. They had taken it to his second-in-command, Kalan, and instead of dealing with it appropriately by himself, he had brought the prisoner into his abode to interrupt his lunch, and thus his ire at the entirety of the room. Though in his defense, he had not known he was eating or he would have been wiser but such details matter none to him.

He glances at where Kalan stands to the side, at a distance between the prisoner and him, probably with the intention of interjecting before Clancy can get to him if he does try anything.

"You should have dealt with it by yourself." He says and even Kalan winces. He had picked Kalan up from a bloody battle field some years earlier on a whim. While they had fought, he had noted the methodical and efficient way that Kalan had caught down enemy after enemy with approval. After the battle had ended and he had not found him among the survivors, he had walked the bloody fields until he had come across him, nearly dead from several slashes and holes in his body. He remembers thinking of what a waste such talent as his is, and for the first time in eight years, he had used his magic again, this time to heal. Kalan had sworn his allegiance to him ever since then and not a day has gone by that he has ever regretted the decision he made.

"Yes my Lord, I should have. J would have but this matter is somewhat more delicate than it seems." He gestures at the man still shivering, prostrate on the ground. "That is Lord Aydenol's second son right there. It appears Lord Aydenol has revoked ties with his mother in favour of a younger woman and the mother has been severely sick for several weeks." Kalan says.

He blinks, that would explain why the man had seemed vaguely familiar at first. When he had been brought to him, he had been all terrified eyes and awkward limbs, barely able to face him from behind his father's breeches and yet still trying to act proud and brave.

"There is nothing delicate about the matter." He says and rises. He unfolds slowly to his full height, towering over all the men and seeming to take up every available space in the room. When he takes a step towards the thief, Clancy, the man trembles like a leaf and a stench spreads through the room as the man wets himself in fear. "He betrayed me, simple."

The man raises his head, bloodless face paling even more as the impersonation of death himself marches across the room towards him.

"Please, my Lord, forgive me. I swear it won't happen again! This once, my Lord, I just needed to get food to my mother." Tears run down his face and snot blows out of his nostrils and as he tries to scramble backwards, the two men holding him rattle him so hard his teeth clack and he crumbles, realising there will be no give.

Lord Zion walks and stands in front of him, looking down at him with a stony expression.

"You stole from me. You betrayed me. There is only one punishment for betraying me." He says.

Clancy shakes his head, making pathetic efforts to get away from him. "No, my Lord. I am sorry, I am, truly! Just give me one more chance!" He cries.

Lord Zion unsheathes his sword, Cleaver. It is a long broad Sympcythian sword, the rarest and most expensive blade in the world. Sympcythian blades are known to cut through anything as easily as parchment, from flesh to bone to wood to iron and they are extremely resistant to shattering. In the history of Sympcythian blades, there has never been anyone that has been able to destroy the blade, for fire only makes it sharper and it only gets stronger with age. The bronze blade flashes in the light as he draws it, the sight of it enough to send seasoned warriors running back home. Tales of the dark King are told with his famous sword, Cleaver cutting down men like grass sometimes as a cautionary tale to children. For few can claim to have seen the dark King in truth, his existence so elusive that many believe him a myth, made up by wild old women.

"One more chance, my Lord!" Clancy's voice rises to a shrill. "I will not let you down. Please, my mother needs me." Knowing that he will not be able to muscle his way through the situation to escape, he has given up fighting his detainers and sags against their grip.

Zion raises Cleaver high up in the air and brings it swiping down. The slice is so neat and so precise that for a moment, blood forgets to pour and Clancy's head rests atop his neck in frozen surprise before toppling over and rolling to the floor. The guards release the headless body of the man and it drops to the ground while Lord Zion bends down to clean the sides of his sword on the dead man's cloth. He turns away and marches back to his meal.

"Get rid of the body." He says and behind him, men scramble to do as he bids.

He sits behind his desk once more and picks his spoon and Kalan approaches him.

"You are interrupting my meal for the second time in a day, Kalan." He says with a glare as he looks up and Kalan winces and stops a few feet away. He bows.

"Forgive me, my Lord. I have a few questions." He says.

He waves him forward and continues eating. "My Lord, what of Lord Aydenol? What do we tell him of the death of his son?"

He pushes a slice of tender meat into his mouth and finishes chewing before replying.

"Tell him everything. His son betrayed me and thus, he payed the price. He is lucky I am in a good mood, that is why I have not punished him as well for siring the betrayer." He says.

"Of course my Lord, I will pass your message. One more question." Kalan says.

"My patience runs thin with your questions." He says, chugging down some ale.

"My apologies, my Lord." He says, bowing deeply.

"Go ahead." He says.

"What do we do about the food he stole sir?" He asks.

"What would I do with it? Take it where it was intended, send it to his mother. It is her son's last gift to her." He says, and dismisses him with a wave of his hand.

"As you wish, my Lord." Kalan says and bows once again.

"Go." He commands and Kalan hurries to leave, knowing he has tried the patience of his Lord enough times for one day. The body and head of Clancy have been cleaned up and his men work frantically to mop up every trace of blood from the floor, peering at him every few minutes to gauge his mood. Amused, he settles back into his seat to finish his meal.

__________________________________

Zion walks into the armory and his men go rigid, voices seizing and feet stamping at once as they stand at attention. He walks to his chest in the front of the small room and one of the young'uns rush forward to stand, in case he needs something.

"Tell me the full reports." He commands and one of his men, a large scarred man called Carver steps forward.

"My Lord, as per your instructions, our sentries have kept an eye on The Hyenas and as you predicted, after the news of your departure circulated they got bolder, encroaching on the borders of our territory." He says.

"Did they set the trap?" He asks, motioning the young raider away. He picks his own knives and daggers by himself, testing their weight and their balance and when satisfied, fits them into the numerous sheaths on his attire. Neither him nor the rest of his company are in armor, and not because they cannot afford it. He had made the choice to forgo it and the rest of his people had followed his lead, for armor has no place on the body of raiders. His mercenaries on the other hand are always in armor.

"Yes my Lord, they did." Carver says.

"And did they spring it?" He asks.

"Yes, they did." Carver replies.

Zion turns back to his chest and finishes stocking up on knives. He is armed to the teeth when he lifts the black death mask from the chest. The air in the room becomes anticipatory, an almost tangible him in the air as blood lusts and appetites are awoken. He lifts the mask slowly and it snaps into place on his face. It is a smoky black piece of metal with large carved eye holes that do not impair his vision and two holes beneath his nose for breathing. When people from various kingdoms think of The Dark King, the mask is the first thing that comes to mind for there is not an enemy of The Dark King's that has come face to face with it and lived to tell about it.

When he turns back to his men, he seems to become bigger, harder, larger than life, a gid among humans. Silently, he raises his fist in the air and with a loud pulsing shout, his men pump their fists in the air after him. He turns around and stalks back out, Kalan right behind him and his team of elite raiders behind the both of them. 

As they exit their camp and fan out into the forest, every man's movements is precise as clockwork, all the plans and details having already been thoroughly discussed. Silent as shadows, the team glides through the forest, Lord Zion at the helm. When they are nearly at the borders of The Dauntless Raiders' territory, Zion holds up a fist and Kalan lets out the perfect mimicry of a birdcall. The entire teams halts, blending into their surroundings and they begin to wait.

They do not have to wait long because soon after, figures approach from a distance. The approaching men are cautious, keeping an eye out for anyone from The Dauntless Raiders company and when they are satisfied, the man at the front motions them forward and leads his people closer to death. When they are close enough, Zion recognises him as the The Hyena Lord's second-in-command and the faintest smile pull on his lips beneath his mask. The day it seems, is going to pay off heavily.

The Dauntless Raiders company lie in wait behind the trees while the Hyenas approach slowly but surely, unaware of the danger they walk into. They carry with them all manners of weapons, from swords to arrows to axes and spades. A movement in the trees to the side of the Dauntless men causes them to start and one of the archers let an arrow sail, hitting the spot where a sentry had been. There is a thud of what Zion knows is a bag of stones to the floor which they doubtless think is the dead sentry. When there is no more sound, the man at the front motions for them to hurry and they approach once more. Zion has a clue about what of they aim to achieve, with their cutting and digging tools. It is common knowledge that food is no longer as plentiful it once was in these woods and the smaller clans of raiders have been forced to go hungry for lack of food merchants to steal from, most of their members falling sick or dying out. This particular camp of Zion's happens to contain loads and loads of food stored against the hard times, so much food that the Dauntless Raiders do not have the fear of starving in the tough season. And apart from the food, the camp also contains a secret underground shed where Zion keeps hundreds of treasures each worth thousands of cronnies guarded day and night by his men. They must have found out about that too. He looks up to find the sun at the far horizon, sinking rapidly. The Hyenas no doubt have some sort of backup, maybe something to put the entire camp to sleep or something to poison the entire camp with. But Zion will not let them get to that stage. The punishment for trespassing on Dauntless land is immediate and decisive; instant death and on this very evening, he is glad to be one of the people that will deal the punishment.

Right when they cross into Dauntless territory, he detaches from the shadows and with a shout, his men follow suit. The Hyenas stagger back, shocked and some outright turn around and run. He breaks into a run, unsheathing his sword as he approaches them. An arrow whistles towards him and he tilts slightly sideways, the arrow cutting through the air past his ear in a whizz.

And then he is on them and Cleaver is slicing through the air aggressively, leaving broken bones and detached limbs behind. The Hyenas finally recover from their shock and knowing the chance to flee has long disappeared, attack them back. In front of him is a large man with an axe and bulging muscles that tell a tale of frequent use. The man has the wild look of a condemned man and with narrowed eyes, he hacks forward at Zion's shoulder. He does not dodge beneath or to the side of the axe and in an impossible show of strength, grips the arcing arm of the man and stops the axe in midair with one hand. The man's muscles bulge and his eyes round in surprise as he puts his weight behind his gripped swing, desperate to cut down but slowly, inexorably, Zion forces his arm backward until they are at his eye level and with a twist of his arm, sends the axe jutting from his thick stump of a neck. As the man falls to his knees, blood gushing out of his neck in a geyser, he rushes to meet his next opponent, his sword meeting that of the enemy before him and breaking it in half. The man staggers back in shock, the stump of his sword falling from his numb fingers and Zion closes in for the kill, sinking his sword into his heart and withdrawing it. A man runs at his with a sword aimed high and another rushes at him from the side. He glides beneath the swing of one sword, coming up beside the second man and punching a fist into his face. While the second man collapses, completely knocked out, he attacks the first man in a flurry of offensive moves, toying with his opponent. Bleeding from a dozen severe cuts on his body, the man finally slumps to his knees and falls to his side.

Behind him is The Hyena Lord's second-in-command who disengages from the man he was fighting to face the greater threat. One of his men attacks his former opponent.

"The Dark King." He sneers. "I am honored to have you meet us in person." He says, pacing in front of him.

Zion does not bother to respond, just follows his movements with the uncanny transparent eyes of his.

"I thought you were gone! Our people need the food, and you have so much to spare. We are practically brothers, are we not? Would you have had us starve?" He asks, working himself up, getting more frantic by the second.

Zion sheaths his sword and his opponent jerks to a stunned stop but then he unsheathes a dagger from his waist and whatever hope had ignited in the man's eyes quicky sputters out. With a yell, he attacks. It happens nearly in slow motion for Zion. He grips the wrist holding the sword and grinds it together and the man yells in pain, releasing his sword.  He plunges his dagger into his shoulder and pulls it out, twisting the injured shoulder to send the man to his knees and plunging his knife into the other shoulder. The man tries to work out a hidden dagger in his belt and Zion moves behind him, clutching the sides of his head in powerful hands. With a vicious twist of his wrists, he breaks the man's neck and yanks his head off his shoulder in a gruesome display, holding it high with a roar.

His people cheer loudly for him while the enemy take one look at him bathed in their kin's blood and fall to their knees, begging for mercy. But the rule of raiders is different from those of civilized folks, and Zion's men walk around making sure that each of the enemies is dead.

Soon enough, there is no more of the Hyena raiders alive and he assigns his men to go after the ones that ran, to a point.

"Good work. Clean it up." He tells them before stalking in the opposite direction, Kalan beside him.

"That will send a good and final message to the Hyenas." Kalan says, striding to keep up with Zion. He is a large man by any standards with long limbs and great wide shoulders and yet Zion towers over him effortlessly.

"I know the implications, Kalan. Tighten the security. They do not have the men to spare for retaliation and they trespassed on our lands knowing fully well the implications, but in case they do decide to be foolish, we should be prepared." He says.

"The guards will be tripled, my Lord." Kalan says with a slight grin. They walk the rest of the company in silence.

When they get back to camp, two young'uns run forward with cups of ale which they drain. The rest of the camp are gathered in the front yard, eager to meet their victorious comrades. They all shiver in awe and fear at the terrifying death mask still covering the face of The Dark King and roars of joy herald them back.

"See to it immediately." Zion tells Kalan and stalks to the armory. He sends away the young'un hovering behind him hoping to make himself useful and opens his chest. He slides the metal mask down his face and it glides over the magnetic surface behind his ear before letting go reluctantly and he carefully lays it back in the chest and locks it. A shift in the air behind him alerts him to someone coming into the room.

"My Lord," one of his men says from behind him. He turns around to see one of the spies he had planted in the kingdom of Solaria. The man looks weary and worn down and it is obvious he has ridden hard to be able to pass his message.

"Lyonder." He says and the man bows deeply.

"I bring news, my Lord, from the kingdom of Solaria." He says.

Zion leans a hip against a high stool and crosses his arms. That is why he had planted the man there, as well as several similar men in near and far kingdoms. He is a man who prefers to stay on top of things and be informed of the developments in all of the kingdoms he raids.

"The King Consort Silas Tallhorn of Solaria is dead." Lyonder says.

A dark sculpted brow rises in interest and a mild frown. "How?" He asks.

"Killed by one of his daughters, my Lord." He says.

This picks Zion's interest. In the history of the Tallhorns there has never been an assassination and neither has there never been a defaulter in their royal midst. This could be as a result of weakness of the royal family but no, his sources confirm that the they are stronger than ever. Such a happening is one that could never have been predicted in a thousand years.

He sits up and motions for Lyonder to follow him.

"Tell me everything."