Four Suits (Book 1)

Day 39-8: Greed

Hey! It's been so, so long since I worked on this book (which I'm extremely sorry for). I had to reread chapters to remember everything. And now I'm just left with wanting to change things because I feel I could've written previous things better. But I'll hold back on doing that until I'm officially done this book xD

Anyway, here's the long-awaited chapter! I'm praying it turned out all right (it seriously has been so long since I wrote these characters and this world). I wish I can guarantee frequent updates but I'm busy with work so I'll try my best.

Vote and Comment! <3

_____________

DAY 39-8: GREED

"Was it wise making Leda a promise you can't keep?"

Blades clash, emitting sparks. Ro can hardly defend himself against the flurry of attacks. Nixon smirks as he advances with effortless strikes.

"I'm the one who taught you everything you know." He parries Ro's sword effortlessly, voice slippery and slow, like venom. "Your movements." Clank. "Thoughts and petty strategies." Clang. "Perseverance in the face of overwhelming strength." In the blink of an eye, the edge of his blade is at Ro's throat, and he stares down at him, void of emotion. "I engrained it all into you and your brothers from an early age. You cannot win, Your Highness. Not against me."

Even at the mercy of his enemy—knowing full well the wrong word, the slightest movement, can cost him a severed head—Ro's gaze burns. "For what reason, Jack Nixon? What reason could you have for betraying your own nation?"

The admiral's lips quirk up at the mention. "It truly is scary how fearless you are in the face of death. Even that glare is akin to your father's. This disease that's plagued our nation has proven just how feeble and powerless we are; how little man can do in the face of tragedy. It's impossible to save them, Your Highness, yet here you are attempting to protect them anyway."

"I have a duty to my people."

"Your duty is fruitless." The blade pierces his skin, forcing Ro to recede a step and a thin line of red to roll down his neck. Nixon simpers. "You were a mere babe then, weren't you? Too young to grasp the truth of our kingdom's—your own family's—sin. How pitiful. If you were aware, you'd let our people rot like they're supposed to."

"The truth?" Ro echoes in an attempt to digest the cryptic words.

Nixon bares his teeth, growling in newfound anger. "It does not matter to your father how many hundreds—how many thousands—he sacrifices. Compared to the lives that ruthless man has forsaken in the name of war, the Queen of Hearts is a saint."

"The King of Spades is the proudest hero of Edaps."

"A tyrant can be painted a champion—a victim, a villain—if those in power decree it. History can be written and rewritten, reproduced, and endlessly brainwashed into the frail populace." As he speaks, Nixon's icy tone sends chills down Ro's spine. "You were not there, Ronan III. You haven't the slightest clue how many bodies, how many promises, how much innocence was sacrificed to gain the peace you've ignorantly lived in these last twenty years. The fact that I will never again see my wife and son. All of it, now buried in the history that man has fabricated."

Despite his anguish, Nox laughs. And laughs. And laughs.

"And look at that man now! Hero? Warrior? Savage? He's a weakling who can't fight a mere sickness. Who'll lose his wife and children—his entire nation, and eventually himself, tucked away in the comfort of his bed. The irony is smothering. Just as he's taken everything from me, I'll return the favour tenfold. Starting with your miserable existence!"