Two Hundred Years in Slavery is all the people of Xathania have known. Toiling and dying for a kingdom that has only snarled at them. Not until hope surfaces as a story in the wind and the flames of a spirit long forgotten resurfaces to face the g...
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Ten guards flanked Callahan as he stomped his way to his council meeting. Not a single coherent thought rattled in his mind. Not with the image of his mother's body on the floor. Or of how his sisters, Anne and Clair. had ran to her body and held on to their mother, crying. He was immobile for an hour or two. Had not been himself when he hit Cora.
Holy gods, he had sent her to Zolt even though he could not tell if she was involved or not. He would have let his anger go had she not escaped when the unreliable guards that had been sent with her drank themselves to stupor.
He beheaded them.
Every last one of them without a second thought. He would not allow incompetence to thrive in his empire. He would not be weak. The doors of the council hall were pushed open as soon as he saw them.
The hall fell silent as he walked in. The men within its walls stood. He did not sit. Neither, did he let the men before his throne treat him as anything other than their king. He motioned for them to sit and with a bit of hesitation they did.
'I want Cora of Xathania returned to me, preferably alive. I want her tracked and located. I don't care how long it takes I want her here. Samael of Xir can be returned dead or alive. I just want to see his head on platter to ensure that it is done,' the King announced before he demanded for their issues to be presented.
The selfish bastards still talked about the lesser things. The need for a dam at Zolt. The need for more slaves at Kals. The need for smiths to prepare for a war incase Aderhan should declare for Samael of Xir.
He agreed to the request for the Smiths and the Slaves before leaving them to their plotting. He had not seen his wife in three days. She had left after the body was found and he had only returned to their chambers to change for his mother's passing.
He had watched with his sisters while she was burnt. Had watched the High Priestess and her Acolytes call on The Mother, The Father and their Son and Daughter. To hold his mother's hand as she passed on. To take her to the Mount of Glory. They had asked the Son to protect her from the Pit. From Plotas and his cronies.
The King had asked the Scholars to dig up all they could find on Plotas. Had asked the High Priestess to put wards around the city. Otherwise, the fate of Anne's nursemaid would be theirs.
The guards had stopped at the door to his quarters, standing in their assigned posts. Eleonor would have not been happy with Cora's treatment. Perhaps, that was why she left. He stared at the door to her bed room for a good minute before he knocked.
'Enter,' she ordered and he did.
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