Revenge At Last

The sound of footsteps echoed into the darkness. They stopped before a room with a disheveled man. The wrought iron door creaked open and the man looked up.

"Who is it?"

With a flick, the torches outside the cell were lit ablaze. Firelight cast long shadows into the cell. Golden hair sparkled under the orange light. Violet eyes seemed to glow on their own. In his hands, a spiked iron whip.

"I've waited years to show you the same pain I felt."

"Ha…" The man laughed maniacally. "How are you any better than me now? Go ahead, Veridin! Show me the depths of your rage! I know how much you enjoy watching blood be spilt! You're nothing more than a devil hiding his desires."

Veridin knelt down, clasping Malas's face in his hand. "Who's the dog now?"

"You'll always be the mutt that I raised!"

Veridin smiled as he stood up. "I'm glad to see that my words will never reach you. You're right, Father. I enjoy watching blood be spilt. I'll especially enjoy watching you suffer."

"I'll never give you the satisfaction."

"That's alright. You'll beg me to die sooner or later." Veridin's smile contorted into delight and malice. "Thank you for making my revenge so thrilling. Please hold on to your sanity as long as you can."

Veridin reached out, brushing his hand across Malas's cheek. Fingertips caressed the corner of his eyes. Swiftly, Veridin jammed his fingers underneath the eye. Like plucking a grape from the vine, the glittering orb fell to the floor. Crimson dripped down from his fingers while screams echoed in his ears.

He exhaled breathlessly. The smell of iron and stone reminded him of those days in the dungeon. Back when he had no mana. Back when he felt human. It reminded him of aching pain and blood. It reminded him of the rapture of the battlefield. To feel the fear of another and inflict pain and humiliation on them was a bliss like no other. He took hold of Malas's arm and ripped it out with pure force. Red splattered across every surface. Veridin couldn't contain his expression of ecstasy. Humans were such frail creatures.

Veridin stepped into the dining hall with a smile. Anaroth only glanced at him when he sat down. The servants quickly prepared a meal and set it before him.

"Shouldn't you be resting? You still haven't recovered your mana."

"What about you? You gave me yours. Shouldn't you rest as well?"

He let out a huff. "You aren't used to the feeling of mana exhaustion."

Veridin narrowed his eyes. "Do I have to punish someone?"

"What? I only know the feeling because of my teachers. I was pushed to use my mana constantly."

"Are they still alive?"

Anaroth looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you planning to kill them?"

"That would be cause for war. I'd just teach them a lesson or two."

"It's been less than a day since you caused problems and you're trying to cause more. Are you addicted to creating trouble?"

"Not at all. Anyways, the debutante ball is just around the corner. Have you decided if you're going to accompany me?"

"I'm still thinking about it."

"Are you really thinking about it, or are you putting it off to make me anxious?"

Anaroth flinched. "Are you pressuring me?"

"Of course not. You'll be attending the coronation ball so it doesn't matter."

"Who said I would?"

"You aren't? I thought you wanted answers out of me." Veridin leaned on his hand with a smile. "I told you that I'd answer any questions you have at the coronation ball. Not after."

"So if I don't go, I won't get answers." Anaroth sighed. "How manipulative."

"Haven't I always been?"

"At least you know it."

He sat up straight. "How is the construction coming along?"

"It'll be done in a few weeks."

"I can't wait. Come to think of it, you rarely talk about the demon kingdom. How different is it than here?"

"Well… For starters, you don't duel here."

"Knights duel sometimes."

"I meant nobles. In the demon kingdom, we settle a lot of arguments with duels. The high nobility often tries to fight me. Of course there are limits to that."

"So anyone can ask for a duel with anyone?"

"Yes. It's a common occurrence. We even have a coliseum."

"How interesting."

"You're thinking about fighting someone, aren't you?"

"What reason would I have to do that?"

Anaroth narrowed his eyes. "Don't go picking fights."

"Are you inviting me to the palace? I'm honored."

"You're inviting yourself," He sighed.

"You're not saying I can't go. By the way, I heard that the previous queen is still alive."

"My mother? Yes, she is… You're not going to pick a fight with my mother are you?"

Veridin stared at him for a moment before laughing. It was a sweet, genuine laugh. "Of course not! I just wanted to meet her. The queen dowager, right? Since she's your mother, she should be as interesting as you are."

Anaroth's face turned dark. "You… You aren't trying to marry my mother, are you?"

Veridin broke out into laughter once again. He couldn't help himself. Seeing Anaroth guessing wildly like this was too much. Now that Malas was imprisoned, his restraint began to lessen. Perhaps he would play around a bit. "Oh I don't know. An older woman taking care of a young king like me? It sounds a bit like a novel, doesn't it?"

Anaroth's mouth fell open. Veridin couldn't stop laughing. He felt light, like all of his worries and burdens were gone. Seeing Anaroth's dismay brought him unexpected joy. Veridin was still laughing when Anaroth finally came to his senses.

"Don't joke about marrying my mother! That– You never make jokes! Why did you start now!?"

"You're right, you're right. It was a joke. I just wanted to see what expression you would make." Veridin looked at Anaroth's red face in delight.

"I can't believe you. Do you like older women or something?"

Veridin had to swallow his laughter. He couldn't stop smiling. "No, I don't like older women."

Anaroth sighed in relief. He tensed and scrutinized Veridin again. "You're telling me the truth, right?"

"Yes, yes. I'm telling you the truth. I don't like older women. Are you happy now?"

"Ha… I feel like I just lost ten years of my life."

"My bad."

"You certainly sound sincere," Anaroth stated dryly.

Veridin simply smiled. Now that the high priest was imprisoned, he only had the nobles to deal with. His smile slowly faded as he thought about it. There was still a mysterious force out there that had killed the grand marshal. He'd have to ask Raven to look into it. He rested his head on his hand. There were still so many obstacles. He slowly opened his eyes to look at Anaroth. It didn't matter how many hurdles he had to jump over. As long as he had this one thing.

"You're not going to overwork yourself, are you?"

"You're worried about me?"

Anaroth set his utensils down on the table. "Yes. I am. I don't know what it is that you aren't telling me, but I know that it affects my kingdom too. You… We're friends. And if something happens to you, I'll be affected as well."

Veridin's eyes widened. "I appreciate that, but this really isn't the best place to have this conversation."

Anaroth glanced at the servants, then cleared his throat. "In any case, I'll trust you for now."

"I have a question for you."

"Really? Normally it's the other way around. Alright, ask."

"Whatever happened to 'You should send all messages through a servant.' Did you miss my voice?"

Anaroth picked up his cup and looked to the side. "It's just easier to speak with you."

"You seemed to find it quite easy to speak with Raven." Anaroth chuckled nervously and took a drink. Veridin tapped his finger against the table with a smile. "Well, I don't mind. When you're done eating, come to my office."

Veridin stood up, leaving Anaroth alone at the table. He sighed in relief, but smiled into his cup. Speaking to him this time felt… Fun. There didn't seem to be any more ulterior motives in his words. It was less frustrating than before. Perhaps he would enjoy the next few weeks here.

"The high priest got arrested? That's interesting but not surprising, Blackwing."

Blackwing looked up from kneeling. In front of him, on a throne carved from stone, was his master. The Apostle looked down with bright magenta eyes. He crossed his legs and leaned on the arm of the throne.

"What shall we do next? The two kings are even closer than before, and the church did not spill any blood."

"Not a single death among them? That idiot. Blackwing, come here." He approached and knelt down at the Apostle's feet. A leg came crashing down, forcing his face into the stone. The taste of blood filled his mouth as the boot pressed his head into the ground. "Can't those spineless clergy members kill even a single person?!"

"Your holiness, our members are still in the church. We also have the nobles that we can utilize." A cloaked figure stepped out of line.

The Apostle glanced over at the believers standing to the side. They were all members that had proven their worth and therefore allowed to stand in his presence. "You're that Purplefang who was working with the high priest. Very well. Speak."

"We may have lost Malas, but we still have Marquis Cassian we can use."

"Marquis Cassian is as spineless as the high priest was. What use does he have to us?" The Apostle propped his legs up on Blackwing's back.

"That's not true. The marquis asked us to hire an assassin to kill the former viscount brandy. That assassin should be wolf food by now."

"So? Quit telling me useless things and get to the point. Or else it will be you on the altar today. Your brothers and sisters would gladly take your place."

He glanced nervously at the ravenous eyes around the room. "Well, we can still create a civil war in the kingdom by using him."

"How original. Marquis Cassian doesn't have the guts it takes to start a war."

"Then–"

"Did I say you could speak anymore?" A sigil shimmered into light in the Apostle's eyes. The cloaked man doubled over and coughed up blood. "Since you clearly can't come up with a useful idea, I'll give you one. The debutante ball is happening soon. An attack on their futures will definitely incur wrath from the nobility. Do with that what you will, but you'll be punished if you fail to take a single life. Do you understand?"

"I understand, your holiness.""

"Good. You're all dismissed." The disciples filed out of the room silently. He sighed and shifted his legs. "Blackwing, watch that one."

"The Purplefang?" Blackwing looked up, panting.

"Do I need to spell it out for you? Of course that Purplefang. He's becoming too impudent. They can't use their brains properly either, but I suppose if they could they wouldn't be believing in some salvation like death. You're the only one who comes up with good ideas."

"I–" He huffed– "Will always follow you. You saved my life."

"I know. Your life belongs to me. By the way, fix this stone chair will you? It's unbelievably uncomfortable."

"I will do so, my liege."

"Oh and bring another sacrifice to the altar. As punishment for your sins."

Blackwing swallowed hard. His master used that sentence a lot. Whenever he said those words, he was referring to the strange power that his eyes had. In his eyes, people were made up of sins. Those who were bathed in yellow light were filled with greed, red for wrath, green for envy, blue for sloth, brown for gluttony, purple for pride, and pink for lust. With a glance, he could tell how you lived your life and infer what you were thinking. That power made anyone who stood in front of him feel incredibly vulnerable, including Blackwing.

The Apostle ignored the bright pink light beneath his legs as he sighed. "I hope something interesting happens soon."