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Chapter 23: Fruition

  Nobody knew how old Bdethorn was; its origins had been lost to myth, and even the myths contradicted themselves. That it was incredibly old could be pinly seen from its shape: the strange curves of the bde were like no bde that had been forged in the st century, an anachronism from a previous era that had survived into the present by virtue of its great blessedness. That was the one thing the myths all agreed on. Bdethorn was incredibly powerful, and tied to the history of the Macarian Emperors.

  One of the myths said that it was a gift from the old gods, that when the father of Gorgias was sin by his own son, the avenging hero had asked the gods for their aid, and they had given him Bdethorn. Other myths said it was a gift of the Golden Lord, granted not as a prerequisite for the Empire’s foundation, but as a reward for it, a show of his support. Peleus never much liked those versions of the myths. They were too reliant on divine intervention, when it was obvious from the evidence of his own eyes that great men needed only the tacit permission of the gods to perform greatness.

  In one version of the myth, it was Gorgias himself who forged Bdethorn, to show to the wise schors of Apholis he was no mere brute, but wise in the ways of craft. When they still refused to admit his mastery, he slew them all in a rage, all but one, the legendary sage Callimachus, who as the only one of the wise men who begged for his life, proved himself wisest of all.

  That was a dark version of the story, often condemned by past Emperors as being subversive. Only a few scrolls and aged tellers of that version of the myth had survived when Peleus’s father finally decided that this version of the myth was as valid as any other. Peleus had been uncertain about that decision when he was young, but even upon his ascension to the throne he had decided that it would be an act of disloyalty against his te father to rescind that bit of mercy. Now that he was older, and in the depths of suffering, Peleus understood that version of the myth all the better.

  If he were a more superstitious man, he might have bmed the violent urge rushing through his veins on the sword, the curse finally rousing from a long sleep at the precise time when it would do him the most harm. That was nonsense. The lust for blood came entirely from within.

  All had turned against him. Factions in the Senate were openly prociming him a monster because of stupid mistake he’d made as a young man, the man on the street considered him either a traitor to the Empire or a weakling corrupted by foreign influence, and even his own wife was keeping secrets from him. This cloak and dagger work did not suit Peleus; he was an honorable man, meant to exercise his martial virtue on the field of glorious war, not to dwell amongst effeminate backstabbers in court. He yearned for an enemy against whom he could draw Bdethorn and be done with it.

  That was one of the thoughts which weighed on him during those dark hours. The second was the question of how that letter had been made public. It was genuine, and after Bellerophon revealed it to the public Peleus had stormed into his records shelf to discover it missing. Who could have even known that the letter existed at all? And who would have any reason to steal it from the Emperor’s own chamber and bring it to the Senate?

  Peleus drew Bdethorn from its traditional pce at the end of the banquet hall and, no longer caring about who saw him, began to pass through the twenty-four forms of sword combat. He’d learned them many years ago from an excellent weapons tutor by the name of Eurytion. It was with nostalgia that Peleus looked back on those days, and with genuine sadness about the pgue that had swept through and taken Eurytion’s life.

  Bdethorn swept effortlessly through the air, both perfectly banced and thunderbolt-sharp. While it cked the magical abilities granted to it in the myths—summoning forth fme and hewing through stone pilrs and so on—it was doubtless the most well-constructed bde that he had ever held. As he passed through the forms, Bdethorn made it so effortless that the Emperor’s mind could wander, lingering on the problems which sat, itching, in the back of his mind. Subtly and first and then rapidly, the flow of the bde brought Peleus to conclusions which he had been avoiding for entirely too long.

  Who else would know of the existence of the letter than the man who had sent it? Who would have a greater reason to bring Peleus down than the man who was already trying to steal his wife? Who was the second most powerful man in all of Chrysopolis? The evidence was not conclusive, but the longer his thoughts circled around the topic the more it all made sense.

  Eteocles, Peleus’s closest ally, the man who had been all but brothers with him for the st two decades, was betraying him. Might have been. Peleus didn’t want to believe it, the betrayal would be a wound in his side, but he wasn’t so naive as to believe that even bonds of loyalty so tight as the ones that existed between the two of them were immune to betrayal, especially when power was involved. If Eteocles wished to seduce Athan, it would be almost essential that he get Peleus out of the way somehow, and a rebellion would be a perfect means by which to do that.

  Peleus stopped midway through one of the forms, Bdethorn held extended, halfway through a hewing downward cut. Peleus’s need to act had been a fly biting at his fnks for days. Perhaps this was the final provocation. No more skulduggery, no more spies and secrets; it was time for action, no matter how it turned out.

  …

  Peleus’s entourage for this mission needed to be of the utmost loyalty, men who valued nothing beyond following the Emperor’s command. Fortunately, the office of the Emperor was equipped with just such a force. They were known as the Trabakondai Guard, though in truth many of them hailed from nds so far afield that even Far Trabakond would have considered them foreigners. They were strange men, long-bearded, with pale skin and dry-grass hair, and the weapons they carried were odd, leaf-shaped swords and huge axes often paired with long oval shields. Peleus had seen them prove their effectiveness many times.

  Sixteen of those stoic giants stood watch around Peleus as he slipped through the streets of Chrysopolis. Stealth, as well as obedience, was an important part of this task. Any warning could give Eteocles the time to bolt, and warning could have come from anywhere. Better, then, to go without horse or carriage than to let the stables learn of his doings, better to go with only a few men than to put out an official call.

  All of Peleus’s efforts paid off when he arrived at Eteocles’s vil and, sure enough, nobody suspected a thing. The doors were not even closed. He gave the Trabakondai Guardsmen simple orders: search the pce for any evidence of conspiracy and allow nobody to get in their way. They thrust through the doors, and all chaos broke loose. Sves panicked, some thinking that they were under attack by bandits, as they fled with baskets in hand, or fought to protect their master’s belongings. The Trabakondai Guard dispyed remarkable restraint: as Peleus moved through the pandemonium, he saw only one man draw a weapon.

  Peleus had, of course, been invited to Eteocles’s vil before, and so was quite familiar with its yout. As such, he did not worry himself with searching through every corner and every drawer, and instead strode directly down the hallway, through the atrium, and to Eteocles’s private chamber. The real evidence was most likely to be found there, in the pce least likely to be searched even by a spy.

  After smashing the lock on the door with Bdethorn, Peleus stormed into the chamber and, heedless of mess or damage, began his search. He threw drawers out of their housings, kneeling down to sift through their contents. He tossed the bedsheets aside and shoved his hands into the edge of the frame. With Bdethorn’s hilt, he tapped against every wooden surface in search of the hollow noise that would indicate a hidden compartment.

  “Peleus! Man, have you lost your senses entirely? What is the meaning of this?”

  Peleus knew Eteocles’s voice well enough that he didn’t need to turn his head as he continued his search. “Do not pretend ignorance, Eteocles. You know exactly what you have done.”

  “I do not! You, meanwhile, have broken into my very home! Your men damage my belongings and injure my sves, and you have made a ruin of my bedchamber! Over what? You believe I have committed a crime?”

  Peleus sneered as he searched, crouched over a pile of papers. “A crime? I would as soon call what you have done a crime as I would call the leviathan a fish.”

  Eteocles crossed the room. “Please, Peleus. I do not understand this. I beg of you, if I have wronged you, I will make recompense. But do not rave as though I am not worthy of your respect!” He reached out, pcing a hand on Peleus’s shoulder.

  At once, Peleus rose to his feet, spinning about in order to bat Eteocles’s arm aside. “Get your damned grubbing hands away from me! Tch, perhaps if you had done that in other areas of life we would not be in this mess. Keep your hands off of me, keep your hands out of my records, and keep your hands off of my wife!”

  “Your wife?” Eteocles said. “You… you believe I have intentions toward Athan? Is that what this is all about?”

  “One of several things,” Peleus replied.

  “She and I… you know I have never had any desire for Athan, even before she was betrothed.”

  “Do you take me for a fool?” Peleus hissed, the tendons standing out in his jaw. “Tertalia night, you hung from her arm like a lovestruck youth. You have been writing letters to no woman I am aware of. You have been caught creeping around the pace!”

  “I have done no such thing! But I see how it is now; in your paranoia you see betrayal at every side, seeing visions of enemies where your closest allies stand.” Eteocles puffed out his chest, and spoke with a voice of command. “Begone from my house, Peleus. You may be Emperor, but no man is free to do as he pleases.”

  That Eteocles had the gall to resist, to spite his Emperor, only filled Peleus with further rage. He surveyed the room, his eyes wide with anger, until his gaze settled upon the small lockbox in the corner. Some fragment of remaining respect for the man who had so long been his closest confidante had kept him from opening it until then. But no longer. He advanced.

  Eteocles took a step back, then understood. “Don’t you dare!” he said, reaching out to stop Peleus.

  Peleus caught his arm. Eteocles was stronger, stouter, but Peleus had always been the more agile and skilled fighter. For a moment they stood frozen. Then, Peleus’s eyes focused on Eteocles’s hand, and more importantly on his index finger, which bore a copper ring. The ring had an ornate shape of rods and knobs extending from its upper surface, a pattern which Peleus instantly recognized as a key.

  He burst into motion, first ripping the ring from off Eteocles’s finger and then dashing across the room. Eteocles ran to follow, and arrived at the lockbox as the ring barely touched the lock. For a few seconds, they wrestled awkwardly, Eteocles trying to restrain Peleus’s arms and Peleus trying to undo the lock, until Peleus jammed his elbow into the most vulnerable part of Eteocles’s midsection, sending him sprawling. While Eteocles fought to regain his feet, the lockbox clicked open.

  Just then, one of Peleus’s Trabakondai Guardsmen stepped through the half-open door of the chamber.

  “My lord?”

  Peleus was already sifting through the contents of the box, but he stopped for just long enough to look over his shoulder. “Restrain him, please.”

  The man did as asked, pcing one of his hands on Eteocles’s arm and the point of his sword at the man’s throat. With that taken care of, Peleus went back to sifting through the contents of Eteocles’s lockbox. Most of it was things that were meaningless to him, favors from girls Eteocles had known years ago, parchment records that were crucial to his business operation, and so on and so forth. Then Peleus saw something that he almost could not believe, buried amidst the detritus. For a moment he thought the glimmer of green to be merely a trick of his tired, overwrought mind. But still, he dug more ferociously, spilling objects onto the table in his desperation to find the thing he’d seen, or confirm its nonexistence.

  When the green diamond earring found its way into the palm of Peleus’s hand, he almost could not believe it. Shock overwhelmed him, his mind bnk and heart about to stop. The only thought, at first, was the memory of having first seen this earring and its twin, a gift given to him by a foreign dignitary that he immediately decided would look absolutely beautiful on Athan.

  Peleus turned around. “How do you have this?”

  “I don’t know,” said Eteocles. “Might’ve been a gift? A token of favor? I don’t remember!”

  That was all it took for Peleus’s mind to return to him. He was so angry that his body ached. The Emperor's heart accelerated so quickly that stars passed before his vision, his jaw clenched, his hand trembled so fiercely that the incriminating earring fell to the floor. In a burst of fury, his hand flew to Bdethorn’s grip and drew it out to point at the adulterer.

  “Son of a whore!”

  Eteocles threw up his hands. “What is it? What new crime have you invented?”

  “Invented?” Peleus took a step closer. “You have Athan’s jewelry in your private box and you accuse me of invention! I should kill you for this.”

  Eteocles’s eyes flickered toward Bdethorn, his body suddenly pale from the proximity to mortality. “You are mistaken, Peleus. I have done nothing to Athan, I have no desire to intervene in your marriage. Whatever sign you think you see in that earring, it has no relevance to the truth. Please, man, think! Why would I betray you?”

  “Greed drives men to extremes,” Peleus said, taking another step forward. Perhaps just a scar. A scar would remind Eteocles of his pce, give him a physical reminder to think twice before he moved against the man who had given him the world.

  “And I am not a greedy man. Fifteen years I have been satisfied with my pce at your side. I have done everything you asked, never questioned a word, been loyal and dutiful.”

  “And then you tried to steal my wife, you whale’s vomit. Flea-infested bitch.”

  Rage boiled in Peleus’s chest, seeking an outlet, any outlet. Eteocles was talking sense, somewhat, but was it all a lie? The earring was Athan’s, but could it have been an innocent gift, or a lost item whose origins Eteocles did not know? Peleus thought that was nonsense.

  But Eteocles was done letting sharp implements be pointed towards him. He jerked suddenly to the side, racing out of the reach of the Trabakondai Guardsman’s sword, then in the instant of free space, drew a dagger from a secret part of his tunic. All of Peleus’s rage boiled forth at once, then exploded. With a roar, he charged. The first cut, Eteocles parried expertly with the bde of his dagger, but the second arrived too quickly for him.

  Bdethorn’s edge was sharp: cloth parted before it as easily as skin, and Eteocles was left with a huge bleeding wound that extended from shoulder to stomach. He staggered, still alive but in pain and pale with blood loss. Peleus screamed again, invectives and accusations fading into wordless anger, and thrust out Bdethorn’s point. It buried itself in Eteocles’s chest, slipping past the underside of the ribcage to bury itself in his liver, lungs, and diaphragm. Eteocles choked, blood spilling from his mouth as he found himself no longer able to breathe. He stared down at the bde where it had entered him, cwing at the steel with palsied fingers before he colpsed backwards.

  Peleus was far from done. A red fog obscured his eyes, and every muscle ached with the need to complete. He hacked at Eteocles’s fallen body, aiming to sever the neck but succeeding only in leaving deep notches in his shoulders, chipping his skull, opening up the arteries to spill oceans of blood onto the floor and red sprays across the walls.

  When his rage finally abated, Peleus was left standing over the mangled corpse of the man who had been his chosen successor. Blood was everywhere, warm droplets soaking into Peleus’s clothes, drenching his sandals, dripping down his face. For a moment, a single instant, there was guilt. Peleus crushed it with a powerful flexing of his hands. They were the Emperor’s hands, the hands which dispensed life and death at his pleasure. Eteocles was an seducer and a traitor, two crimes which even in isotion would be justly punished with death.

  “Get some other men in here, I want the body taken away,” Peleus said, still staring down at the corpse. “And find me something to clean myself with.”

  SaffronDragon

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