Chapter 6 : Blood Relations

A swift kick brought Vasper back around.

“Beast of hell!” Bey’s voice crackled as his manicured fingers closed savagely around his opponent’s pale throat. Barely aware of the crushing pressure of Bey’s hands on his windpipe, Vasper nonetheless noticed the tears of rage that had begun to form in the corner of his assailant’s eyes. Already the cracks are forming. A little more patience will see him undone.

Bey’s anger had finally reached the boiling point; Vasper had to die, and the determined set of his grip on the man’s throat made it clear he had decided that now was the time. The single-minded rage that coursed through his hands had given him all the strength he would need to choke the life out of his most hated adversary and he was not about to stop.

“How many children died..?” Vasper managed to croak through the strangulation.

The question struck its intended chord, catching Bey off guard enough for him to let up just a moment too long. How could Vasper know about the children?

“What are you talking about?” Bey demanded.

“How many children died by your hands, kin-killer?” Vasper repeated, this time loud enough for the rest of the room’s occupants to hear. “You have told your rebels all about my crimes, what about your own?”

Bey froze, unable to form a response. All Bey’s currency in the coup depended entirely on his followers’ belief in him as an altruistic hero battling selflessly against the evil tyrant. It was this supposed strength conviction that had allowed him to raise himself above all the depraved nobles and disgruntled soldiers who might otherwise seek power for themselves, instead. Their allegiance depended on a fragile bubble of confidence in the idea that Count Bey had what it took to lead them into glorious prosperity and the assumption that they were replacing evil with good. Now the bubble quivered and the rebellion stood, still and silent, waiting for it to burst.

Bey’s white beard bristled as he realized what fate awaited him, should he lose the support he had worked so hard to gather and knew something had to be done to clear the air of doubt and direct the room’s attention back to his enemy. He did the only thing he could think of, pulling Vasper into a sitting position and slamming him hard in the face with the back of his fist.

“How dare you?” he cried at the top of his lungs, pulling Vasper up and striking him again. “I will not have such vile aspersions cast at me by a repugnant wretch!”

The nobles began cheering and clapping, uncertainly at first, for their leader as soldiers hauled Vasper to his feet once more. Baron Madray marched brashly from the crowd, blowing a secret look of relief to his co-conspirator as he raised his drawn sword into the air to much applause with the arrogance and attitude for which he was so well-known.

“I’ve heard enough!” Madray declared, striding eagerly forward and pressing the tip of his sword blade against the prisoner’s chest. “This scum would be best served on the end of a sword, I say!”

A displeased murmur ran through the nobles, however, no longer quite confident enough in their leader to allow summary execution. Now Vizina took her turn, stepping forward, in a convincing display of skepticism, to play her given role.

“Let us not be hasty, Baron,” she countered Madray, echoing the feelings of the other nobles.

“Would it not be in the best interests of us all to have a few questions answered first?” Sounds of affirmation followed from the crowd as the eye-pleasing Lady winked at her compatriots.

“What’s to question?” Madray retorted, loudly, “he tortured and killed his own mother!”
“A woman who many of us greatly admired,” said Bey, reinforcing Madray’s point. “And a crime to which he has freely admitted!”

“You make good points, my lords, but as we have also discovered, the Lady, herself, was not innocent. Is the murder of one Thane and the attempted murder of another not deserving of punishment?” Vizina questioned. “Supposing she had been caught in the act by a guard, or some such, would she not have been subject to death, at the very least?”

The crowd collectively shuddered at the implications of Vizina’s questions. Had she, in fact, deserved what Vasper had done to her?

“No,” Bey answered, “not when she was under the orders of the King!”

Madray and Vizina appeared as totally shocked as the rest of the assemblage at the revelation.

“Have you any proof of this, Count?” Vizina demanded, speaking her scripted lines with the flair of a natural actress.

Bey made a point of dramatically reaching into his cloak to retrieve a pair of sealed scrolls that he held up for everyone to see.

“Written on these scrolls, signed and sealed by the late King Kaynid, himself, are secret execution orders for Thanes Jirith and Vasper. In both cases, the order was not made public but issued only to Lady Nisceia, out of the King’s fear of retribution. After Nisceia’s death, Kaynid made several attempts to retrieve the documents in the hopes of preventing Vasper from learning of his involvement. When that proved fruitless he turned to simple appeasement, probably hoping to dispel suspicion,” he turned back to Vasper, “by becoming your best friend during your difficult time of loss. How does it feel, master duper, to know that you were duped by your closest confidante?”

Vasper looked sufficiently miserable, hanging in the grasp of Serdigal, who clearly was enjoying his new master’s game.

“I would like to know how it is that you came into possession of my mother’s private documents,” Vasper replied, solemnly.

Bey’s lips curled up shrewdly, “It’s amazing what a woman will entrust you with, once she’s been sharing your bed for long enough.”

Vasper’s eyes flashed at this, though he said nothing.

“She went to the King for counsel after she first learned of what your father was involved in, worried, more than anything, for her innocent little son,” Bey continued. “Over time, Kaynid convinced her that the only way to safeguard you from your father’s influence was to kill him. So she did. And later, when she began to fear that you had picked up where your father had left off, he issued the second order and urged her to act swiftly, frightened as he was of your finding out.

“When Nisceia turned up dead, Kaynid became obsessively nervous about you finding the documents in her belongings or learning the truth some other way, which is why he began keeping his enemy so close to him.”

Bey turned again to face his intently listening audience, “And that brings us to what may be Thane Vasper’s most heinous crime: genocide!” The crowd gasped almost as a single entity, swept away by Bey’s dramatic narration.

“I had never considered King Kaynid to be a particularly crafty man,” Bey began, once again a prosecutor questioning the accused, “but I’ll admit, he surprised me with you. Not for one second did I imagine that he, of all people, had what it took to pull the wool over your eyes. It certainly seemed transparent enough to me, at the time. But, it would seem his simple brand of desperate ingratiation worked on you. In fact, judging by the vehemence in which you avenged his unfortunate demise, I think it would be fair to say that you were uncharacteristically passionate about your friendship with the King.”

“Ridiculous!” Vasper exclaimed, “He was a rung on the ladder of my ascension and nothing more! I have never cared to avenge him; your accusations are sorely misplaced!”

“I can understand why you would be defensive about your friendship with Kaynid,” Bey said, “after all, it can’t be easy, after all these years, to find that you aren’t as impervious to deception as you might think. I know it burns to hear such things of your closest friend, whom you cared out so deeply. But the fact remains that the pain of Kaynid’s death drove you to commit your most egregious crime, for which deserve to burn in the hells for all eternity!”

Vasper snarled, “If you believe I shed one single tear about Kaynid’s death, you are grasping at straws more desperately than I first thought! You are a fool – a witless, pitiable fool, and my thoughts are beyond and reckoning of yours!”

Bey was laughing now, far too smugly for his own good. “Oh, Vasper, you do yourself a disservice with all these pitiful attempts to hide the truth. I can read it all over your face, as if it wasn’t already obvious enough by your actions! All You slaughtered an entire race of people to satisfy your quest for vengeance, all in the name of your closest friend, a man who not only ordered and paid for your death more times than I can count, but also turned your own loving mother into your assassin!”

Deep shock and trepidation splayed across Vasper’s features faster than his legendary stoic control could wipe it away, too slowly for Bey to miss. It seemed all he could do to sputter a few meaningless words in rebuttal.

“You cannot possibly—“

“—Know about that?” Bey finished the statement, simultaneously reveling in both the poorly concealed look of growing dismay on his enemy’s face and the rapt expressions of the courtiers as they strained to hear every word. “Your surprise is well earned, Vasper. You took great pains to cover up your foul deeds from those who would use it against you. Not even your own people were safe from your obfuscations.

“I have personally questioned many of the soldiers who accompanied you to the Eastmarches and carried out your evil will, that winter. Most remember exactly what you, I believe, allowed them to, or they remember nothing at all. As for the rest, well, unfortunately they failed to survive the shattering of their minds that accompanied their attempts to speak of what they knew; another of the generous gifts from you to your loyal soldiers?”

“Devilry!” the crowd burst out in unison.

“Of the very worst kind!” Bey answered back. “Truth to be told, not all of these victims died in the breaking. I would have brought such survivors here, as silent witnesses to Vasper’s devilry, except that they, regrettably, thirsted and starved to death, having been left without the ability to eat or drink.”

“How convenient that your only witnesses are dead,” Vasper piped up. “You will have to do better than that if you hope to convince the Prince of your far-fetched claims.”

“Not my only witnesses.” Bey smiled to Vasper’s holder.

“I was there!” Serdigal shouted to the crowd, “I remember every bloody thing he made us do like it was yesterday, and I curse him for it!”

Nobles and soldiers alike turned their eyes upon the General.

“Aye, I remember, all too well, his wrath when the King fell. Even after we’d already decimated what passed for warriors, he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted them all! He’d convinced us all, somehow, that we were doing the right thing – that it was in the best interests of the kingdom…” He stammered, uncertainly, “No one questioned him, not even once. Most of the men were dead already…was mostly women and children that were left. We didn’t like it, but we couldn’t refuse. He ordered us to kill every living one of them, so we did. He commanded us to burn every village and every hut and tent in the Eastmarches, so we did. We killed them all. He killed them all!”

All eyes turned upon Vasper once more. Baron Madray emerged from the throng as its representative. “The court of Serapis demands justice! What say you to these charges, Thane?”

“I say that your General does not remember events as well as he claims to,” Vasper calmly responded, “so I must take it upon myself to tell the true tale. Judge me as you will, but not only me.” He let his eyes wander over Serdigal’s bulky form, “Let others be judged for their crimes, accordingly.”


* * *


Vasper’s twenty-fifth birthday had been celebrated in grand form and no expense had been spared in the decorating of the estate with all manner of lively décor. Important people – nobles, generals, dignitaries and the like had traveled from all over Serapis to take part in the Thane’s coming into manhood. It was an important day in the life of any boy, but for a Thane it was the beginning of independence. So important was this day that King Kaynid himself had come all the way from his capital at Unverferth to infer upon his servant the final vows of Thanedom, thereby dissolving the intermediary council and ushering Vasper into his full measure of authority.

Serapis would finally and inexorably be his for the governing; there would be no more council, no more constraints and no more excuses. Where most men might have cringed at the though of such responsibility, Vasper reveled in it, smiling placidly as his bitterest rivals were relegated to the status of mere nobles once again.

“Your ascension to the high seat of Serapis is complete, Thane Vasper,” declared the King, echoing the ongoing theme of the succession ceremony, now so long ago, insofar as standing in the same exact spot, sporting the same kingly stance and even wearing the same ceremonial garb. Little had changed in the past fourteen years; Kaynid had more wrinkles than before, and his closely-cropped hair had turned from salt and pepper to stark white, but incidental details aside, there was little to distinguish this ceremony from the other. The ceremonial chamber had remained unchanged for a hundred years or more, as had the ceremonial words, and the same noblemen, or their successors, stood witness in their same places.

Despite all of the similarities, Vasper knew that at least one thing had, indeed, changed: himself. Fourteen years ago, he had been made a Thane. In the years since that day he had seen things that no Thane before him had seen, done things that no Thane before him had done. No longer a simple Thane, he had become something grander than his predecessors. The guild…

“Sit well, Thane-proper,” said Kaynid, closing the ancient benediction, “and may Tergo freely bless you and your house. Congratulations, my friend!”

Vasper gave his oaths with the same self-assured and decisive manner for which he had become known across the land and beyond. Where other men hung back to consider their strategy, Vasper surged forward, already three steps ahead. He was the bane and the envy of every noble and ruler who knew him and the very mention of his name inspired equal portions of awe and dread. None dared cross him, of course, for it would be an act of pitiable madness to make an enemy of one who knew a person’s plans before they did, themselves.

Despite his perilous reputation, there was not a man to be found in Unver who did not secretly wish he could be like the audacious Vasper in his great wisdom and cunning. His rivals, and even his allies, had long been dreading the Thane’s coming-of-age, wondering, with a deep sense of foreboding, what new powers he would reveal once his long-held leash had finally been loosed.

Even the King, though he counted himself Vasper’s closest friend, knew better than to push the man too far.

Following the ceremony began a great celebration, the likes of which only a King’s coffers could lightly afford. Courtiers and commoners alike partied on well into the wee hours of the night while stuffing themselves with food and drink more expensive than most could have hoped to afford in an entire lifetime of honest work. And all of it at King Kaynid’s expense, so vital was it to him that he reinforce Vasper’s loyalty and trust.

Well before the party had neared its end, King and Thane politely took leave, retiring to Vasper’s private audience chamber, a small, yet impressive room, reserved for important and usually secret meetings with the Thane’s highest-profile visitors. In this room, Vasper was the puppet-master and all other comers, with the exception of his revered mentor, were little more than expensive marionettes. It was a quality which Vasper had meticulously built into every aspect of its décor and even the very stone of its walls and floors. All in all, it was one of Vasper’s most successful experiments, and but a small sampling of a much grander plan.

“Well, Vasper, you have achieved independence, at last!” exclaimed the King, between sips of dark, sorennese wine. “And it could not have come at a better time, I might add. There is much for my newly empowered Thane of Serapis to do in the coming weeks!”

Vasper raised a questioning eyebrow in response, “You have a command for me?”

Kaynid nodded, “Indeed, I do. A favour, if you will indulge me.”

“Of course, I am yours to command, my King.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Kaynid smiled warmly. “As you are aware, circumstances in your Eastmarches have been deteriorating dramatically, a matter which you have been unable to satisfactorily resolve up until now.”

Vasper leaned pensively back in his chair with a long and irritated breath. “You know I have done everything I can to persuade these wandering tribes, my lord, but they are unwilling to negotiate on reasonable terms. And of course, the advisory council has always been adamant about—“

“Ah, but the council is no longer an obstacle, my friend,” the King interrupted, “and the tribes have been a thorn in my—our side for quite long enough. It’s time you gave the situation the benefit of your personal – and unimpeded – touch.”

“The T’kula will not be bartered with, as you well know,” Vasper replied, “And since you will not allow me to take military action against them...“

“No, no! I can’t afford bloodshed here, Vasper,” Kaynid whispered urgently, given a wild look by his bushy white eyebrows, “not unless they become hostile first, which they won’t. You know the kind of damage it would do to my reputation if I were to become known as the slaughterer of a peaceful people!”

“What, then, would you have me do?”

“I may be old, Vasper, but I’m not a complete invalid! I’ve known you long enough to know how persuasive you can be, when you need to. And now that there’s no more council looking over your shoulder…”

Vasper took another thoughtful breath and squinted in consideration, “Perhaps I could try, but even I need something to work with, a carrot, if you will. I fear I have none at my disposal that would suit them.”

“Ah, but you do!” said the King, jovially. “I have it on good authority that the T’kula Chieftain-of-Chieftains, a man named S’thaka, does, indeed, have his price. Should the right offer be made under the right circumstances by the right person, he might be persuaded to see things our way. That is where you come in, my friend; I have heard it said before, with no great exaggeration, I might add, that you could persuade a lava crawler to marry an octopus!”

“I know S’thaka,” Vasper replied, sighing, “I have tested his will and it is strong – very strong. Even with this offer of yours it will be a dubious undertaking, at best.”

The King unclasped his hands and held them out to Vasper in appreciation, smiling. “Who better to make the attempt? I know you’ll do a wonderful job!”

Vasper still looked uncertain of the arrangement. “Now tell me, King, what sort of price could possibly incent S’thaka to uproot nine tribes of people from their traditional homelands? And where will they go once they have abandoned their homes?”

A shrewd look came into Kaynid’s eyes and he grinned embarrassedly. “The answer to both questions is the same, though I fear you may not like it.”

Vasper frowned expectantly, “Go on.”

The King cleared his throat, “S’thaka, it seems, is a man with unrivaled vision and ambition among his people. He is no longer content to rule over only one tribe, even if it is the dominant one. He seeks to unite the nine T’kula tribes under one chieftain – himself, obviously – and make his people a true country to call their own.”

“And he would not be able to do such things at present, I see.”

“The disparate tribes have always been resistant, in the past, to these sorts of ideas, largely because the lands they occupy, though lush with vegetation, offer little in the way of other resources, and what resources it does contain are too spread out to make use of. As well, S’thaka recognizes that those lands would be all but impossible to properly fortify or defend. However, should the T’kula, or let us say, should S’thaka find himself in a position to move the people to a stronger place, a place with abundant resources, where he could build a nation, his dreams might be realized.”

Vasper’s eyes widened, “You’re talking about the Sylferkirsk Mountains!”

“The same,” Kaynid nodded.

“Easy access to lumber and ore for building, abundant shelter and easily defendable,” said Vasper, clearly perturbed, “not to mention all of the trade opportunities once the T’kula take over the two diamond mines and the adamantine quarry, which, I am sure you are aware, presently belong to me.”

“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” Kaynid sighed, “but I’m afraid there’s no other way.”

“Like it?” Vasper asked, bordering on outright anger, “You’re asking me to give up a fortune, not only for myself but for my province, all because some savages have taken up residence in your great-grandfather’s ancestral orchardland! Am I supposed to like it?”

“I’m getting old, Vasper, and palace life grows wearisome. I wish to spend my remaining years enjoying, as much as may be possible, the serenity and peace that my father’s fathers knew in that land.” Kaynid’s tone sounded almost pleading, “I haven’t sired any heirs, Vasper, and aren’t likely to unless I manage to attract a wife.”

“Heirs? Heirs!” Vasper exclaimed, “Kaynid, there must be a thousand eligible noblewomen in Giliathor who would be quite content to play doting Queen to an elderly King! Go marry one and I am sure you they produce as many heirs as you could wish for, if that is your aim.”

“No, no, no!” Kaynid shook his head, emphatically. “I am only interested in one woman, and she has made it quite clear that she has no desire to spend her days as a royal shut-in. She loves nature, trees, grass, clear water, wildlife – all things that the old estate could offer if only it were not overrun!

“Besides,” Kaynid went on, “it is to your own benefit, as well, that this problem be solved. I know you’ve commissioned my royal craftsmen for a rather large project, and believe me, I’m quite happy to lend them to you. They’ll do a wonderful job, I’m sure – the best in all Giliathor as far as I’m concerned. And judging by the amount you’re paying for their services I would have to assume that this project is of no small consequence to you. More so, say, than a diamond mine or two?”

Vasper slowly nodded, “Perhaps.”

“Yes, I thought as much,” the King continued, gravely. “As I’ve said, my time on this earth is not unlimited, and I simply can’t afford to wait much longer to do the things I’ve talked about. If I can’t have the orchardlands that already exist, I will have no choice but to build new ones. Much as it pains me to say this, if that is what becomes necessary it will mean tying up my craftsmen for the foreseeable future, and that means that they will not be available to you. So, you see my dilemma.”

Vasper looked deeply in the King’s eyes, and saw the man for what he was: petty, perhaps, but no fool to fall victim, for any meaningful length of time, to any of the obvious manipulations that might be used to dissuade him of this. As usual, however, Vasper was not without his resources.

“I see you are, indeed, in a pitiable position,” replied Vasper after moment’s hesitation, “I will do as you ask, though the problem remains of convincing the T’kula. There are easier, and more profitable, ways of dealing with this.”

Kaynid scrutinized Vasper for a moment before replying, “Even if I was willing to attack them, all it would accomplish is creating an enemy for myself. The last thing anyone needs is a rebel faction occupying Unverian land.”

“That is assuming there is someone left to make an enemy out of.”

“I’m sorry, Vasper, but these are politically trying times and reputation is everything. If S’thaka’s people were a band of savage killers they would be simpler to deal with, I agree, but that is not so.” He stood to leave, unofficially bringing the meeting to a close. “In any case, you must set out without delay if you are to make the offer at the appropriate time.”

Vasper eyed the King sulkily. “I will do what I can, but you must be there if there is to be any hope of success.”

“Me?”

Vasper nodded, “S’thaka aims to set himself up as a King, Kaynid. I can handle the negotiations, but T’kula custom demands that such terms are agreed upon only by equals; without you there I will not even be allowed to speak.”

Kaynid seemed hesitant but recognized the truth of Vasper’s words, “Very well, we leave in a week.”