A Rite of Swords

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

Romulus strutted down the marble corridor of the capitol building, making his way toward the vast doors to the Grand Council’s chamber. His footsteps echoed as he marched alone, passing row after row of decorated Empire soldiers, who stood silently at attention. The Grand Council had summoned him this time, he knew, to depose him, to strip him of all title and rank, to question him about his activities, and to try him for treason. He had spies everywhere, and he already knew what each and every one of them would say. This was their moment to imprison him once and for all and seal Andronicus’ power.

Romulus had other plans. Now that he had the velvet cloak in hand, he would soon be departing from the Empire, crossing the great sea, entering the Ring, destroying the Shield, and deposing Andronicus for good. But before he embarked on his final quest to make himself the greatest ruler of the Empire, he had one last matter left to attend. The Council. A perpetual thorn in his side. He would have come on his own to seek them out, to tie up loose ends—but they had summoned him first. He had his own matters he wished to discuss. And he did not think they would be very pleased.

Romulus marched through the open doors, several soldiers yanking them open deferentially and bowing their heads as they stepped out of his way. Romulus marched right into the chamber.

Staring back at him were the two dozen dissatisfied faces of the councilmen, representing all provinces of the Empire, looking up at him with distaste and scorn.

The door was slammed behind him.

“You can stand where you are, because you won’t be here long,” one of them said, as he barely stepped into the room.

Romulus froze, staring back. He urged himself to restraint.

“Word has reached us that you shut off reinforcements for the great Andronicus. We are not interested in your explanation. In the name of the Grand Council of the Empire, you are hereby tried and sentenced for treason. You will be imprisoned and executed on the morrow. You will hang on the highest tree, for all would-be traitors to see.”

Romulus breathed deep, expecting as much.

He then smiled wide, and took a step forward in defiance.

“I am glad to hear that you have plans for me,” Romulus said. “Because I have plans for you as well.”

“We have no interest in your plans,” said another councilman. “You are only lucky that the Great Andronicus himself is not here to torture you slowly. We will have mercy and execute you quickly.”

“Guards, arrest him!” another councilman called out.

He stood there, waiting, and nothing happened. The old men looked baffled.

And Romulus’ smile widened.

“GUARDS!” they screamed.

Romulus grinned wider, and took another step forward.

“It is no longer the Great Andronicus. Now, it is the Great Romulus.”

As he nodded, from out of the shadows, from all corners of the room, there suddenly appeared two dozen of Romulus’ finest assassins. They rushed forward silently, short swords held high.

The councilmen barely had time to react, to meet death in the face. Romulus’s men came down like a sudden plague and stabbed and hacked to death each and every one of them. Their screams filled the room, the pathetic screams of these pathetic old men, as they all slumped onto the very table where they had tried to pass judgment on Romulus.

Romulus stood there, taking in the sight, holding his hands out at his side, breathing it in like fresh air.

When his men finished, they all snapped back to attention, awaiting his command.

It was a beautiful sight. There was no one left to oppose him in the Empire now. He breathed deep, feeling his power rise. Finally, there were no more obstacles.

There was but one man left in his way, and he would soon meet the wrath of the Great Romulus. Soon he would enter the Ring. And soon, it would all be his.