A Dream of Mortals

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Volusia sat at the head of the shining, semicircular golden table inside Capital Hall, and looked out at the crowd of men before her, feeling triumphant. Seated opposite her, at the far end of the table, was the commander of the Empire armies, along with a dozen of his generals seated beside him, and behind them, one hundred Empire senators, all dressed in the distinctive white and scarlet robes befitting their rank. All of them stared back at her, frowning, with a mix of defiance and anxiety, as they prepared to hear her judgment.

Volusia looked out at all of them, studied their faces, allowing the silence to linger, allowing them to realize that she was in control now—and relishing in her power over them. Thanks to her, her forces had managed to take the capital city; they had slaughtered all of the Empire soldiers within its walls and her armies had filled the capital, swarming within it, before sealing the doors behind them. Of course, beyond the capital walls, on the far side of the city, there remained hundreds of thousands of hostile Empire soldiers, all teeming outside, waiting to hear the terms of surrender. Over time they could get in—but for now, at least, she and her men were secure, pending the terms of this negotiation.

Volusia sat there, facing them all, her palms on the golden table, relishing this moment. She, a young girl, had defied all of these old men, these stale old men that had ruled the Empire for centuries with a fist of steel. She sat even now in the very seat of power, in Capital Hall, at the head of the Golden Table, the place reserved only for Empire rulers. She had achieved the impossible. All that remained was to negotiate with these men, to acquire the remainder of the Empire armies, and to once and for all, take supreme control of the Empire.

“Queen Volusia,” a voice rang throughout the hall.

Volusia looked over to see one of the senators step forward beside the general, chin up, looking down at her defiantly.

“You have assembled us to hear our terms of surrender. We shall present them to you. If you agree, then all shall be harmonious between us. Our forces shall concede to yours, and you shall rule the Empire jointly with us.”

Volusia stared back firmly, annoyed that he dared try to dictate terms to her.

“Goddess Volusia,” she corrected.

The senator stared back in shock, clearly not expecting that response, and the commander of the Empire armies stood, put a fist on the table, and scowled down at her.

“You won by sorcery, deception, and trickery,” he growled with his deep voice. “You are no Queen of mine, and you are certainly no Goddess. You are just a young girl, an arrogant young girl, who got lucky one too many times. Your luck will run out, I assure you.”

She smiled back.

“Perhaps,” she replied, “but it seems, Commander, that your luck already has.”

He reddened, his scowl deepening, and she noticed him glance down at his scabbard, now empty; he then looked up and glanced all about the edges of the room, saw her hundreds of soldiers lined up, all with swords in hand, and he clearly thought better of making any rash moves.

He sighed bitterly.

“I am prepared to surrender all of my men to you,” he said. “Hundreds of thousands of men outside these walls. In return, you shall give me once again the leadership of my men, with the dignity and respect befitting a commander of the Empire.”

“Additionally,” the senator chimed in beside him, “you shall acknowledge us, the hundred senators who have always served the Republic of the Empire, in our rightful roles, and we shall share power jointly with you, as we always have with every Supreme Commander. We shall put all your atrocities behind us for the sake of war, and you shall make all decisions with us jointly.”

Volusia smirked, realizing how delusional these men were. They thought she was a mere commander: they had no idea they were addressing a Goddess. The great Goddess Volusia.

She made the wait for her reply, and the senator and the generals stared back at her, clearly uncomfortable with the long silence, clearly uncertain of what she might do next.

The senator, nervous, cleared his throat.

“If you do not meet our terms,” the senator called out, “if you try to defy us in any way, be certain you and your men will die here today. Yes, your soldiers fill the capital. But do not forget that beyond these capital walls there sit ten times our soldiers—and beyond that, beyond the sea, there are Romulus’s one million men, who even now have been called back from the Ring to return to our service.”

“And in the other horns of the Empire,” called out another senator, “there await millions more soldiers being drawn up now to destroy you.”

The senator smiled.

“So, you see,” he added, “you are vastly outnumbered, surrounded in every direction.”

“If you deny our offer,” the Empire commander growled, “you will die within these walls. Just like your mother.”

Volusia smiled.

“Like my mother? Don’t you know that it was I who killed my mother?”

They all looked back at her, horrified, caught off guard.

“I will not be slaughtered here today, or tomorrow, or even in this lifetime. I know I am outnumbered, and I know that if I do not accept your terms, all of us will die. Which is why I have come here to accept them.”

The Empire commander and senators stared back at her, and she could see surprise and relief in their faces.

“A wise decision,” the senator said.

Volusia stood, her men standing beside her immediately, and she walked slowly around the table, until she stood opposite the Empire commander.

The tension thick in the air, she looked up at him; he was a large and broad man of the Empire race, with the glowing yellow skin, the small horns, and he was covered in scars. He smiled down at her, more of a scowl, arrogant, smirking, as she came close. He had clearly expected this acknowledgment of his power.

“I shall acknowledge your place in my Empire, as commander of my men,” she said. “Kiss my ring, acknowledge my command, and you shall have a place in my Empire forever.”

She held out her right hand. On her ring finger was a large onyx ring, black, sparkling, and the commander looked at her, skeptical, debating. His face reddened.

Then, slowly, he reached out, took her hand, and kissed the ring.

As he did, suddenly, he froze. His eyes bulged in his head and his entire body started to quake.

Moments later, he grabbed his throat, blood pouring from his mouth, and he slumped onto the floor, dead.

All of his men looked down at him, astonished, frozen in shock.

At the same moment, Volusia’s men pounced from all corners of the room, swords drawn, descending on the group of senators and generals. There was nowhere for them to run. Volusia’s men hacked them down, slaughtering them where they stood.

The room soon ran red with blood, blood spraying all over Volusia, and she smiled wide and laughed, reveling in it, cherishing each corpse which fell at her feet, the blood that ran through her toes. She especially cherished her onyx ring, filled with a poison so deadly that even touching one’s lips would send them to their death. It was a trick she had not used in many years—but had seen her mother use often.

Finally, when the room fell still, nothing left but the moaning of a few men, the sound of her men walking throughout the room and stabbing corpses to make sure they were dead, Volusia reached down and placed her palms in the pool of blood. She closed her eyes and felt the life essence of her enemies in that blood. All those that would dare oppose her were now dead.

Volusia turned and slowly walked through the set of double doors leading to the balcony, overlooking the entire Empire capital. She stepped outside, beneath the two setting suns, and she could see below her, all of her men filling the capital, slaying citizens. She looked down with great gratification as she watched a statue of Andronicus topple to the ground—and then, a statute of Romulus. They landed with a great crash, marble dust flying in the air, and her men cheered.

The crowd parted ways, and as it did there rolled forward an immense, golden statue of Volusia, a hundred feet long, lying on its back, propped up on a long wooden cart with wheels. She had had it rolled all the way from Volusia itself, knowing that one day she would be able to place it in the capital. She watched with great satisfaction the vision she had already seen many times in her mind’s eye: hundreds of her men, using ropes, slowly hoisted it, putting it into place, in the center of the capital. Her statue rose, gleaming in the suns, taller than anything in the capital. Her men let out a great cheer as it stood firmly in place.

Her people all turned and looked up at her on the balcony, and their cheer intensified.

“VOLUSIA! VOLUSIA!”

It was a cheer of ecstasy, a cheer of triumph. She held out her arms wide to them and looked down on them, her people. She was a Goddess now, and all these men she had created were her children. She felt their adulation as she held out her palms, the adulation of all her children.

Volusia looked out at the horizon, beyond the city walls, and saw all the Empire armies filling the horizon, clamoring to get inside these walls. She knew, too, that beyond them, somewhere on the horizon, a great army was coming.

A great storm was coming. And she welcomed it.