King of the Seditious

Peak Mountain, Black Mountains, Battling Border

CHAVIAS

Garix Trembath walked into Radix’s Peak Mountain lair. Striding straight to Radix’s personal chambers. Noni’s flocking at his heels.

What’s he doing? Chavias’ hands wrapped the square black bars, and he pushed his face sideways against them to see down the stone passageway. The smell of sulfur and waste wafted up from the lower dungeons. There was a bone deep chill down here today, that even Chavias could feel.

“What is it?” Radix asked snippily.

Clearly discontented at the intrusion.

“I bring you word of the Rebels.”

The Rebels? Of Nightway? Chavias had heard bits and pieces about them but they were a newer development since his slavery.

“Oh?”

“I’ve found a new leader.” Garix said.

That’s a shame. Garix seems to be as good a man as any to lead.

“You are the leader. I like it that way.” Radix’s voice was somewhat harsh.

“He does well leading them.” Garix explained dismissively. “Seems to be positively lethal.” Garix moved around thoughtfully. “He’s arranging for the Nightway goods to be removed. And he speaks of overtaking Nightway one day if things don’t change.”

Radix was quiet awhile puzzling it out. “Then what do I need you for?”

Careful, Garix. Chavias thought nervously. Shifting in worry.

“I guide him. He’s our figurehead but while he gives grand speeches to the Rebels, I can better do your missions. Be more active in crippling Grier.”

Why cripple Grier?

“I am listening.” Radix rasped.

Me too. Chavias focused his hearing to catch every word.

“I wanted to take Okine to raid NightVille.”

“Done.”

“Okine.” Radix’s head stuck into the hall calling for the ogerish man.

No answer.

Busy tormenting some poor soul down below, no doubt. The thought filled Chavias with his usual contempt.

“Okine!” Radix called impatiently. Stalking from his chamber, he pointed at Garix. “Stay.”

Radix headed down the passageway. Intent on hunting down the creature. The nonis skittered at his feet. Staying in pace with him.

Garix peered out, his close-cropped brown hair visible in the hazy darkness.

Suspicious. Chavias thought it even more so when his head withdrew and Chavias heard the rattle of the cell keys. The ones Radix keeps hanging on his wall. Near the grotto entrance.

“What are you doing?” He asked softly down the corridor.

Is the man trying to get himself killed?

Stealing from Radix will end badly.

“Not your business.” Garix murmured. Stepping partway into the hall to answer him.

Chavias glimpsed the white lump Garix pressed a key into. “Deer tallow?” He queried.

“Aye.”

Risky to answer me. Why would he answer atall?

Doesn’t he fear I’ll tell Radix his movements?

“What need have you for the keys to Radix’s dungeons?”

Does he expect to be a prisoner soon? That would be clever.

Garix stepped back in the chamber and the keys clattered as he hung them back up. As he walked back into the hall, he pocketed the lump of deer fat. “No. Just the key to a particular cage.”

Chavias tilted his head questioningly.

“To a particular animal…” He gave Chavias a pointed stare.

The keys to my cell?

Why? Who is he working for? Chavias blurted the question.

“He may trust you. But I don’t. Yet.” Garix said.

He?

The knights gave me their word. None would break it. Would they?

“Fair. I wouldn’t trust me.” Chavias admitted.

“Are you unworthy?”

Depends on your definition…

Chavias snorted. “In many ways. I work for Radix.”

I’m his slave.

Even if I work to defeat him from within.

“But he doesn’t own you…” Garix’s green gaze roved Chavias’ filthy face. “Or so I hear.”

He doesn’t. He never will. But he’s as close to coming as anyone ever will be. Chavias gripped the rusted bars in his fists and pushed his face to them.

“Not as long as my mind doesn’t snap.” He said truthfully. “You’re playing a dangerous game. One that could get you killed.” Chavias cautioned.

Which would be a shame. You seem to be the only decent man to come down here.

“I do what I do for my daughter. And no one will tell me when to stop.” He rotated on his heel and headed from the caves. Uncaring that Radix would be annoyed he’d left without being commanded to.

Good for him.

Road to MidGale City, Nightway Border

SAVAGE JAXSON

Charles Danbury was riding home to MidGale City. His city. They’d reached the broad bend which bordered the Eastern most peak of the Warwood. Expansive carriage filled to brimming with his attendants. Some of which were forced to hang off the side due to the capacity inside. Behind were two more carriages stuffed with Nightway goods.

Despite the great trove of spoils, he’d collected during his stay this time, Danbury was gravely irked with Riaura. “Little heathen.”

“What, Sir?” The head of his attendants, Barker, asked.

“That girl.”

“The princess, My Lord?”

“Yes, the princess!” Danbury spat in annoyance.

“What has she done now, My Lord?”

“She defies me at every turn. Running off to act a fool with this interloper in the woods.”

“In the Warwood Sir?” The man asked skeptically. Having clearly heard of the rumors of Dreads and Warlocks who lurked in that forest.

“My Lord!” The driver jerked the wide carriage to a halt. So heavy with bags and attendants that it skid a long way before jostling.

“What is it, Timothy!” Danbury called impatiently.

“A man sir!”

Charles Danbury poked his head from the window in the door to look out. Stunned to see a man crouched in the trees above the road. Staring down on the vehicles intently. One hand leisurely resting on the branch above him. He appeared perched as though ready to leap down any moment.

“Go under him.” Danbury commented. “He wouldn’t dare. Not upon seeing my crest.”

“I’m not driving under him, Sir. I believe he would dare.”