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Rebel, Pawn, King
He darted around the rocks of the island, trying to find his way back toward his boat. If he could make it there… well, it would be difficult, when the smugglers had betrayed him, but he would find a way off the island.
The difficult part was trying to find his way. If he’d run straight back along the route he’d first taken, retracing his steps, it would have been easy to find, but there would have been no way to evade the men hunting him. Thanos didn’t dare to stop completely either, even though the sounds of pursuit behind him had given way to sounds of battle.
He thought he recognized the beginnings of the path down to the beach, and hurried down it, keeping his eyes open for potential ambushers. There didn’t seem to be anyone there. Just a little further, and he’d be back to his boat, he’d be able to —
He rounded the corner to the beach and stopped. One of the Abandoned was there, massive and muscled. He was standing over Thanos’s boat, or at least, over what remained of it. Even as Thanos watched, the prisoner struck it with a sword that looked like a matchstick in his hands, shattering some of the planks that remained.
Thanos’s heart fell.
Now there was no way out.
CHAPTER NINE
When Lucious got back to the castle, the executions were still continuing. That was as it should be. He didn’t want his men finishing this too quickly. He wanted to be there to enjoy it.
More than that, he wanted Ceres to be there to see it for as long as possible. Lucious made a point of looking up toward her window, where he knew she would be chained in place, forced to look out on the scene there for as long as possible. There was a certain satisfaction in that.
Far more than there was in looking back at the courtyard where the executions were to take place. There, men and women knelt in neat rows, while the executioners moved among them with axes. Even as he watched, he saw one push a man down, lifting the axe high overhead and swinging it in a neat arc that left a head rolling along the ground.
“What is this?” Lucious demanded, his voice rising in anger. He’d been away an hour or two at most. Already, though, it seemed that a whole line of Lord West’s men had been killed, practically all of them beheaded.
“We’re just doing what you said, your highness,” the executioner said. “Executing these men.”
“And making a complete mess of it!” Lucious snapped. Or rather, they weren’t making enough of a mess of it. “Beheading them? I want them to suffer! I want you to be inventive. Didn’t I tell you to use every means of execution you could think of?”
“Many of Lord West’s men have pointed out that they are noblemen,” the executioner explained. “And that as such, they have the right to choose death by the sword or axe instead of – ”
Lucious hit him then, his armored hand sinking deep into the man’s stomach. The executioner was a big man, but with Lucious hitting him that hard, he still doubled over. Lucious snatched his axe from his hands in a swift movement, then brought it round to slam into the executioner’s back. As he fell, screaming, Lucious yanked the weapon out.
“They have no rights beyond the ones I say they do! And even with an axe, you should be able to give them a death that’s a thing of horror. Here, let me show you!”
He struck again, then again, hacking down at the executioner until he was certain that all the others there understood what they faced if they didn’t obey.
When he was done, Lucious looked around for a suitable target to begin with. Maybe if he gave them an example, these cretins would finally understand what he required of them.
“I want you to make this something people talk about a thousand years from now,” he said. “Is that so hard to understand? I want you to make these men last days before they scream their last. I want anyone who hears their child talking about rebelling to cut their throat, because the alternative is so terrible. Now, bring me Lord West. We’ll start with him.”
The silence that reigned over the courtyard didn’t do much for Lucious’s mood.
“Don’t tell me that you’ve already beheaded him.” Lucious watched as one of the torturers was pushed forward. “Well, what is it?”
“Um… begging your highness’s pardon, but the king sent for Lord West. He wanted to speak with him.”
Of course he did. His father could never just keep out of the way of his fun. One day, he wouldn’t have this kind of problem. One day, he would rule, and there wouldn’t be anyone making things difficult. The traitors would all be dead, and the people would understand their place.
As slaves.
Lucious nodded to himself at that thought. The biggest problem with Delos was that it had lost clear divisions. The weak had come to believe that there was a whole graduated set of steps between the lowest serf and the king, and the problem with steps was that they created the impression they could be climbed. Well, Lucious would make it simpler when he was king. Those who were not of the noble class would be the property of the noble class, as it should be. Those who argued would suffer for it.
Which reminded him of the other thing he had to do today.
“Begin the executions again,” Lucious commanded. “And this time, get it right. If I see any more merciful beheadings, it will be all of you in the gibbets. Do I make myself clear?”
There was a chorus of assent.
“Good. Now, open the gates. Let the common folk see. I have an announcement to make.”
The guards did as he commanded, and people poured into the courtyard. Lucious tried not to show his contempt. A day or two ago, and he would have slaughtered these people for daring to come together like this. He would have taken it as evidence that they intended to riot, or revolt, or march on the castle.
Even now, he looked round to ensure he knew where the guards were. Discreetly, of course. He didn’t want to suggest to these peasants that he was somehow afraid of them.
“Prince Lucious!” a voice called, and Lucious flinched automatically, his hand going to his sword hilt.
When a girl ran forward with a victor’s crown of laurel leaves, he guessed that one of his servants had arranged this. Lucious made himself stand straight as he received it, wishing for a moment that it were the real crown. He was made to rule, after all. Afterwards, he would find who had arranged this moment and punish them for not telling him about it.
Lucious stood before the crowd and tried to hide some of his disgust. Couldn’t they have found him a cleaner group of people to address? He supposed, though, that the point was to get his message across to as many as possible, so he ignored that aspect of it.
“People of Delos,” he began, and for once, he was glad that his father had made him take lessons in the proper way to speak and stand before a crowd. At the time, he’d thought it was a waste of time. After all, he was a prince, and people had to listen to him. Now, though, he was grateful that his voice carried. “My citizens. My people.”
They were, after all, very definitely his.
“You have seen the chaos that the rebellion has brought to our city in the last days. They sought allies from the far reaches of our lands to try to crush the rightful governance of the Empire. They brought an army to our very gates. They subverted those men whose honor it would normally have been to fight and die for you: the combatlords.”
Lucious heard a few in the crowd make noises of disapproval at that. He guessed that his people had planted loyalists there to show the people how they should react. Maybe he wouldn’t have them punished after all.
“Today, the threat from the rebellion has ended. I and my soldiers were able to face and defeat the enemy even as they attempted to enter our great city. The traitors are suffering their fates now, while my men are riding out to destroy the last bastions of this blight upon the Empire.”
Lucious brought his fist into his palm sharply. “We have crushed them. My ancestors overthrew the tyranny of the Ancient Ones. They claimed the Empire, and we will keep it. If there are any here who doubt our resolve, look upon the bodies of the traitors we are executing. See your fate if you act against us.”
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