Chapter 3: Ousting The Emperor

While the night enveloped a portion of the city that's divided into the asleep and the awake, further from known Earth is a marquess on his escapade to finish the paperwork that piled on the corner of his desk. His eyes were bloodshot with dark rings forming under it. He grew irritant with his brows creased together. "Alvis," the marquess sluggishly called out to the only butler of the House Eligardé. Hearing his name, Alvis instinctively drew himself near to his side and asked, "Yes, my lord?"

"We request an audience..." "We would like to invite you into..." "Greetings, from the House Monash..." The marquess began to rummage through the contents of the papers that scattered on top of the desk. Invitations were sent after him to request for his appearance but for the marquess, he knew it was only for show.

"I am so sick of hearing from these fools who want nothing more than a thigh to latch on to!" he exclaimed, crumpling a piece of paper and throwing it across the room, hitting the shelf of books that stood adjacent to the white wall. He was fuming mad. He abhorred the thought of having to serve an appearance to those self-proclaimed nobles that wanted nothing more but a piece of their cake.

Thinking of this, he closed his eyes in annoyance while rubbing his temples in circles. Alvis saw this and picked up the paper that flew past the floor. "That's certainly so, my lord," he said, fixing the golden monocles that dangled on his face.

He tried to smoothen out the paper on his hand and read the letter, "My Lord, I wrote this letter to request for an audience. His highness, the emperor, has advanced his troops to West Aragon." The marquess's ears perked up, he immediately took the letter from Alvis and continued, "The cavalry on our side has been prepared to oust the emperor off his throne! We request for your assistance!"

Alvis's face turned grim, his eyes darkened and there was fear hidden beneath. "It has started, My Lord." The marquess knew for sure that it had. The plan soon has to be executed. He nodded his head and stood up from his seat. The marquess took a long breath before declaring to Alvis, "We will offer our assistance. It's time. Alvis, call the head captain. Tell him to prepare the knights of Eligardé," he paused, the depths of his blue eyes flashed a sharp glint, his aura exuding menace and a suffocating air around him. He smashed the table and curled his fists into a ball, "We're going to war."

Thousands of knights gathered at the residence armed with an assortment of weapons ranging from the sharp and glorious swords, to the long spears and bows. Their faces were ashen with eyes gleaming as if provoked. They towered next to each other, ready to heed the marquess's orders.

They are the proud knights of House Eligardé, and they wouldn't falter with the thought of war!

"Seems like we're in it for some good rum after this," voiced one knight in the midst of the tense atmosphere. However, an elbow hit the side of his stomach, making the knight wince in pain. "Ow!" The silly display of the knight caused the others to cackle, they chimed in;

"Sure is, rum it is." "We're in it for a treat!" They hurled jokes and tossed laughters across the residence. It was as if war is not what they're headed for. The knights of House Eligardé were always like this. This is how they boost their morale. They all believed that in the midst of a death, there's always a beacon of hope, that is to say, their lordship— the marquess.

Thud.

The knights were taken aback from their mirth when the loud tap of the foot resonated throughout. In front of them is a man who stood tall and imposing, wearing the same silver armor and a saber that was strapped on his waist. His black hair was swept with the frivolous wind, his blue orbs gazed at them sharply. He was the lord that they've vowed to serve, the ambitious marquess of House Eligardé— Timotheo von Eligardé.

At the marquess's command, half of them braved through the night and into the lush forest that covered the entire residence, making their way into the capital where the emperor lavishly exploited the empire for his own greed. Not only that but the emperor planned to seize the lands of the west to turn it into a paradise for the corrupt.

He started by sweeping the young ladies off from their maternal homes, betrothing them to himself. Every night, he would turn slates and call for them to serve him in bed. The resources under his ruling were wasted and while the wise sang praises for him, the poor could only grit their teeth. They could only rot with maggots feeding on them, never a drop of riches would they ever receive.

Though, the commoners need not have the riches. They wanted a government, a good riddance of the tyrant that sat on the throne. And when opportunity came knocking at their doorstep, a coup d'etat was about to be thrown. Born from the shared hatred and the misery they all suffered for years, they finally would have a taste of what it feels like to fight for their own.

"This is war." And this is what they all had anticipated for.

_____

Darkness veils the capital within the innermost part of the main city. The grandeur of the imperial palace shone with extravaganza that almost everyone would have their eyes bedazzled by the glimmering floors and the towering walls. It was adorned with intricacy that spells, 'this is a domain of wealth'. The palace never ceases to have attendants, they frolicked to and fro around the halls to tend to their tasks, usually decreed by the emperor.

Meanwhile, the sovereign himself lies in his wake in the master bedroom. Next to him are two beauties that tend to his own pleasure. The scent of perfume and cigarette blended into the air, the ladies giggled whenever he would whisper candied words to them.

"You're beautiful, Selena," he said, smiling like a fool who was bewitched by the beauty of the red-haired lady. Selena giggled in response, her laughters as though angels singing beside the emperor. Her gaze met his, and they seemed to have formed a connection— one that doesn't meet with love.

She gazed seductively to the emperor, placing her head on his chest to hear his heartbeat while drawing circles on it. "Your majesty," she said coquettishly.

"Selena," said the emperor, bewitched by the lady's countenance that was in front of him. He touched her waist that was poorly hidden by a black night-gown, moving his torso in an attempt to plant a kiss on the cherry lips that Selena had.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Your majesty! Your majesty!" A ravenous knocking kicked behind the mahogany door of the room. Butler Chisel hurried to call for the emperor. When he heard this, the emperor grew irritated. He was interrupted with his nightly pleasures and this did not please him.

"What is it this time, Chisel?" probed the emperor in annoyance, but he did not move an inch from his position. Unless the matter is worthy of his appearance, the emperor wouldn't want to give up the brewing amorous sensation inside of him.

"The rebels! Your majesty, it's the rebels. They're about to head to the palace!" There was panic in the butler's voice. The tapping of his feet that moved to and fro from the outside could be heard. He grinded his nails, his hair a disheveled mess. The emperor felt something was amiss.

"The rebels? Those fools!" He moved from the bed, tossing Selena aside. She and the other blonde beauty gazed at each other in confusion. The emperor hurried to dress himself in his robe, moving outside to the palace halls with Chisel following behind his back.

"Who is behind all of this?" asked the emperor.

"It's the commoners, your majesty," said Chisel.

"Those wretched beggars!" exclaimed the emperor with clenched fists, his teeth clashing with each other in seething anger. They managed to arrive into the great hall as he sat on his own throne, the veins on the side of his forehead bulging.

After a minute of deathly silence, the emperor waved his hands and said slowly, "Call Lester, we must put this farce to a stop."

The butler's heart skipped a beat, "But... but, your majesty! The head captain Lester is on his way to West Aragon..." When the butler felt the suffocating aura from the emperor, he gradually lost his voice as he gulped a mouthful of saliva.

The emperor was at his wit's end. He gripped the handle of the throne and stood up, fuming mad by the turn of events. He hadn't anticipated this, he was sure there was no one obstructing his plan to usurp West Aragon. The timing was way too great. Surely, there's someone behind this.

"That fucker!" A flash of a face he so hated came into his mind. Those deep blue eyes as if the incarnation of the north's fierce winter, black locks and domineering stance as if he could trample him over.

"Ha, House..." His voice was shaking as he gnashed his teeth, "House Eligardé! It's them!"