RE: Monarch

House Westmore’s downfall was their hubris. They were proud of their gold and accomplishments, and had gone unchallenged for so long that they couldn’t be bothered to keep a competent perimeter and patrols. Vogrin reported that they’d sent much of their force away, padding the security around various warehouses and stockrooms in Topside, which played perfectly into our hands. The proximity of House Erebus worked to our advantage. We were able to approach from the back and chip away at them methodically, subduing patrols and small clusters of soldiers while avoiding direct conflict. Thirty men to their fifty and it was over in less than an hour.

And most of my regiment still wasn’t using live steel.

Embarrassing, really, for an esteemed house. But these tactics were rarely used in human cities. Most northern lords were comfortable with more direct strategies, as what was lacking in magic was frequently made up for with the numbers of a superior force. So much so that they were immediately out of their element when that situation was reversed.

They only realized when it was already far too late.

Fifteen men hauled a felled tree, improvised as a battering ram. Absolutely unnecessary considering the multitude of large windows around the front and sides of the mansion, but the dramatic effect of a battering ram could not be understated. I looked back over my shoulder, squinting at the sun. It was growing lower at an alarming rate, signifying the time we had left. I’d intended to do most of this inside the house. But now that I thought about it, they did have an east facing deck on the third story. The height would shield us from most prying eyes.

Cool fingers brushed the back of my hand, and I grasped them, looping Maya’s hand into mine as the makeshift battering ram continued to hammer the door.

“You know this isn’t healthy, right?” She murmured.

“It’s the best way to resolve this bloodlessly. The resemblance is coincidental.” I shrugged.

Her hand tightened, and she shook her head. “We made a promise. Don’t do that with me. Lie to the others if you like. But not to me.”

I fought the urge to stall until the door broke down, to distance myself from her. The idea of opening up to anyone felt so difficult now. Even if it was Maya.

Every word was a struggle. “Maybe if things were different, I could have come up with something else. But now, I see her everywhere. In the corner of reflections. Standing in the distance, mocking me. When I close my eyes. She’s all I can think about. Might as well use that to my advantage.”

Her hand slid up my arm, holding it gently. “If this is what you need, I’m with you. Always. But it can’t be like this forever.” She rested her head on my shoulder. “It can’t all be hate. There’s no future in that. You need to heal.”

Just for Thoth to find a way to hurt me again?

The harsh sound of cracking wood drew our attention. Splinters flew from the next hit. The doors folded inward, revealing a flash of armor and drawn weapons within. The brief look revealed far fewer than I’d expected.

“It’s about that time.” I observed. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Maya frowned, turning her focus towards the weakening door. Her entire demeanor changed, expression blanking, hollowing out. Almost identical to the way she looked the night I met her at the end of my first life. Intimidating as any arch-fiend.

The double doors shattered open.

“Breach!” An officer bellowed, from the back. I activated the ten seeded sparks I’d already maneuvered inside and targeted the officer and the front-line of guards first, setting metal and fire alike aflame. The guards broke ranks almost immediately, panicking, attempting to strip the inflamed apparel free before fire met flesh. I dug deep and unleashed my aura into the ambient mana, and the approaching back-line stopped mid-step, frozen in fear before my regiment washed over them like a wave of armored fists, most not even bothering to draw their weapons.

Two nobles with clear combat experience charged forward, faces mixed with fury and terror. That they hadn’t frozen with the rest marked them as the sort of threat we didn’t want to leave standing. I signaled to Sera and Alten.

Sera moved quickly, intercepting one and sliding a dagger into his guts. She left it there as instructed, watching mutely as he writhed before her on the ground, moaning. Zin cut the second from shoulder to hip. The man fell to the ground with a gasp. His wound bled immediately and must have been agonizing, but the actual damage done was mostly superficial.

The few remaining guards, nearly naked, quickly surrendered. They were forced to their knees alongside the handful of nobles that had simply frozen in place.

And then it was over.

A chuckle began in the back of my throat, growing into a cackle, loud and cruel. I held my face, like I was trying to keep it together. It felt less like playing a part, more like something deep within me was finally let loose on a worthy target. “Is that it? Really? The last stand of House Westmore, and this is the best they can manage?”

I scowled at Maya. “I thought this would be fun. Where are the rest?”

“Hidden away with the women and children, most likely.” Maya answered, monotone. “A few squads are searching the house, my prince. We’ll find them soon.”

“Good.” I spun the sword-breaker in my hand, studying the blade. “We don’t have much time to spare. I’d hate to miss someone.”

A voice boomed out from the central stairway. “Is this the true face of Cairn, son of Gil? Another tyrant that consumes his allies?” A man with gray hair and a full beard descended the stairs with one hand on the bannister. He had a proud bearing, and his expression was more furious than fearful. I’d seen him a few times over the years, though he was notoriously closed off.

Balan, Patriarch of House Westmore.

“At your service,” I bowed and looked up at him with a grin. “If I was my father, you would have been the first to die.”

“I see no dead men.” Balan scoffed as he continued his descent, stepping over small clusters of flame I suppressed. “What I see is mercy.” He pointed to the line of kneeling men. “The soldiers and mercenaries you savaged are bruised and battered, but otherwise unharmed. Not a single corpse among them. My nephews are worse off.” He spared a glance for the two felled nobles bleeding on the floor. “But their wounds are treatable. Especially with the resources at our disposal.” He stood in front of me and crossed his arms. “And I suspect those resources factor into this show of restraint.”

“There’s not been much bloodshed, yet. That much is true.” I scanned the room behind me. “Unlike my predecessor I dislike killing soldiers for their orders. Better to slit the throats that gave them, first.” I frowned. “But I see how that could be misconstrued. Hmm. Not really the first impression I wanted. Should I start with him?” I strode across the room to the noble with the knife in his belly, hoisting him up by the neck with my left arm and pressing the edge of my dagger to his throat, staring at Balan over his shoulder, daring him to speak.

I played the part required drawing from within more than any external action. I had no intention of killing the nephew. But I needed to believe I did, more than I’d ever believed anything in my life. I thought of Thoth, the pure malevolence that radiated, stemming from the confidence of knowing how badly this would end for anyone other than her.

If Balan escalates, even for a second—

“Perhaps—” He cut off, the first shadow of doubt flickering in his eyes as he held out a hand. “Perhaps instead, we should start by discussing what exactly it is that you want.”

“No longer interested in testing my resolve?” I grinned wickedly.

He shook his head. “Negotiations are the groundwork of empires. Clearly, you’re serious. And this conversation is long overdue. I intended to seek you out in the coming months to discuss the future of Whitefall and Uskar. If anything, you’ve saved me time.”

All things considered, he was doing well. Better than I had. His refusal to beg allowed him to maintain a degree of power, even as the House literally burned down around him.

I hesitated, letting the knife linger. Then dropped the nephew and stared at him. “Fine. I can be patient. Let’s negotiate.”