X - Sunset

The last entry for Heart of Sword, written long after the events of the original RP. Written by me, not The Magician. This takes place after the Order deems the world sufficiently united, and can now do away with the leader of the vessel that did their di

Many days later, after the journey...

Flanked by six armored warriors the general rode into the empire's core, its capital city. As far as the eye could see, there lay row upon row of barracks, training grounds, and stables. To the corner stood the entrance to an entire block's worth of industry: blacksmithing, metallurgy, and even technological research into siege weaponry.

Rows of low-level braziers stood on either side of the road, illuminating it this dusk and providing some warmth on the usually chill nights on this side of the world.

The guards at the palace door nodded their heads in respect to the caped commander; their steel visors making them look more like living statues than mere men. Flared spaulders made them appear more broad-shouldered than they actually were, not that they weren't already mighty individuals.

The honor guard for the general was clad in plate too. However, their design was much too different. Emblazoned on their chest-plates was a distinctive symbol...

Inside were additional sentries. All stood aside. One remarked, "It is good to see your return, sir." The others nodded in agreement.

He who was spoken too nodded, but made no reply. Those following him remained silent as well.

The inner Keep, where the ruler of this now vast empire plotted and schemed, was structurally separate from the rest of the castle. In the middle of the palace was a large, almost cavernous clearing, and inside was the inner sanctum. A precautionary measure, in the unlikely, but still possible, event of invasion.

Where the palace superstructure ended, on the upper level was a balcony of sorts, allowing one to look down. The gap itself opened itself up to the sky allowing the sun's twilight rays to alight the procession as the general proceeded to the Keep itself.

Cape flowing, he marched upright, unwavering. His troops following in square formation, pole-arms drawn diagonally over their chest, and shields crossed slightly over. A perfect military movement.

A lone pair of guardsmen flanked the great chamber doors. These would be the most loyal of them all, unswerving from their leader. The general never stopped, not even as his own following troop came to a complete halt. The twin sentinels moved to stop him.

"Sir, you're not expected; the Emperor will summon you when he hears that you have returned."

"Please, return to your quarters for now."

Behind the caped general two of his troop motioned with their hands. A fleeting, fading glow followed the swift movements. Not a word was muttered, all the spell required was the necessary glyphs.

The two guards collapsed in a heap to the floor.

The caped figure stepped up into the doorway and laid a hand on both of the chamber doors. With a heave, the two wooden doors moved inward, revealing the room itself.

A long, wide table occupied the center, littered with maps, diagrams, and drawings. The wall visible to the entrance-way was adorned with the crossed weapons of every region of the empire, from sword to spear to bow.

He stepped inside, and beheld the rest of the newly-crowned emperor's war-room. On the other wall was an all-encompassing painting, depicting glorious battle. Mighty white steeds bore armored hulks charging directly into the hapless foot soldiers, scattering them and crushing many beneath their iron-horseshoes.

The far wall was another giant canvas, this one displaying a map of the world. It was pin-cushioned with daggers, each one of them representing the city, state, or entire region now under the Principality of Axur's iron heel. The map was filled with gleaming metal and wooden hilt, all save the western portions of the map, and the area where the northern ruins lay. Still abandoned.

Before the daunting world map stood a man, shorter than the general. Before, he was merely a duke, but now a circlet of gold surrounded the sides of his head. He stood facing the map, and surveying all that was now his. In his left hand, dangled between his fingers, was the cup of a great goblet, most likely filled with wine.

The ruler never turned as he spoke. "General Cervantes, you've returned? Ah, before you feel the need to speak, I've long known of your arrival. My scouts caught sight of you long before you reached the gates, actually." He turned around to see his crimson dressed commander. "You see, now with the world mine, nothing is beyond my sight."

Cervantes spoke, though his mouth lay hidden behind his high, buttoned collar, his words were clear and loud. "Duke Methos..."

"Please, call me Emperor."

"You have indeed set out to accomplish as you said you would. All but the west is yours."

"Indeed," Methos smiled and raised his goblet, "Some fools dare to say that the supernatural haunts the west. But as far as I am concerned," he paused to turn and look out the window, "Even so-called Demons fall before swords and steel."

The emperor glanced back to his commander. "Wouldn't you say, Eramas?"

"You have united a warring world under one banner, and brought peace to this planet. At least from the conflicts of men. But this is all only a precursor to the ominous flame that lies to the west."

Methos strolled over to the table and set down his cup. "I am not worried of fairy-tales. I had thought neither were you..."

One hand, at first at the caped general's side, soon began to rise slowly towards the saber hilt that resided alongside his leg. "The situation is direr than originally thought. There is an unforeseen threat. But as you yourself have stated, that is no longer of your concern," replied Eramas.

With swift movement the hand freed the sword from its sheath; the long, slightly curved blade before Cervantes. He stared plainly at Methos. "Your part is complete. You are no longer needed anymore."

The self-proclaimed emperor's face suddenly grew dour. "You speak to me as if I were nothing more than a pawn. That is not how the ruler of the planet should be addressed," he hissed.

"Your role was merely to put an end to the bitter rivalries dividing humanity, and bring them under one head once more. Through force and conquest, that has been achieved. From here, the Council can more than easily take command."

Methos sneered. "I am the only authority to be spoken of, and to be obeyed. By you, or anyone!" He snorted, but regained his previous composure. "I had not expected a coup to come from you. I had thought it more from my other two commanders." He shook his head sadly. "Even though you were the outsider, the foreigner, your military skills--and what I thought was loyalty--were far more dedicated than even my own men." He walked towards the world map.

"My actions are, and always have been, to the Order of the Emerald Star, and its ruling Council of Magi. You are merely a means to an end."

"So you say. I assumed something of some sort the minute you caused that ruckus outside."

Eramas moved forward, "Abdicate peacefully, and the Council will see to it you are treated well--"

"To hell with your Council!" Methos lunged at the campaign map and pulled out two of the place-mark daggers, one now in each hand. He whirled around, and threw them directly at Eramas.

The crimson swordsman deftly moved to the side, dodging one of the thrown projectiles aimed for his chest, and then ducked to avoid the one targeting his head.

The infuriated ruler wretched out another pair of daggers, and hurtled them again at the caped warrior. This time, Cervantes swung out with his sword, intercepting the onrushing blade and knocking it aside. He narrowly dodged the second one, which had caught the top of his red hat and pinned itself and the hat to the other far wall.

As Methos reached for another pair of throwing daggers, Eramas scraped his sword across the surface of the table, throwing up a storm of papers and maps. The emperor turned, only for his eyes to be greeted by a flurry of documents fluttering everywhere. He roared in frustration, and instead of throwing the daggers blindly, rushed forward to the flash of red he spied jumping atop the table and leaping down to the other side.

The swordsman raised his forearm as the former-Duke slashed at him with one of the daggers, its blade causing sparks to rain as it struck his blackened metal arm bracer instead of cloth and flesh. Eramas rushed forward, closing the meager distance between the assailants and brought up his knee into Methos' chest. The ruler staggered back, gasping for breath.

"You....miserable...."

Methos twirled the dagger in his hand so the point faced the floor, cried out, and raised his arm high. The razor-sharp edged rocketed towards the red swordsman's neck.

Eramas brought the saber up and slashed it across the other man's arm. The emperor screamed in pain and fury and punched with his other hand at Cervantes' chest, only for the blow to resound off the blackened chest-plate.

The crimson general shot out and grabbed Methos' face, and rushing forward, shoved him off his feet and carried the ruler with sheer momentum to slam him hard against a window plane. The stark-white tressed warrior brought his face up close to the Axurian lord, amber eyes reflecting the still fading sunlight.

Methos roared one final curse as outside, the narrow, gleaming edge of a saber suddenly erupted from out the window, bloodied glass falling to the grass below.

Author's Note

This was written a long time ago, as was stated. I've gone over it numerous times, however as always I'm sure there are typos and syntax errors. I appreciate any and all notices of that, and will work to correct those. If I haven't do know that I did acknowledge your notice and try implementing it, but found that it detracted from the effect I wanted and so omitted it.