Proclaim thy warrior song.

Archine Tuolo was old, very old. His hair no longer grew and what teeth he had were fake. The fingernails on his frail hands periodically fell off. And did not grow again. His back had weakened and become a hump; to walk he used a cane. Around his feeble neck, he wore one large tooth strung on a strand of gold. It bothered Larkin’s eyes to have to look at this disgusting exhibit of age.

There were things only this man could tell him, however. Tuolo claimed to remember the days when Larkin’s castle had not yet been conceived. Larkin estimated this to be six hundred years ago, but history no longer subsisted to him. It was in the minds of the old and dying now. All historical documents had been destroyed. Genealogy, ownership, laws, land lines – nothing but ashes now.

Everything belonged to Larkin. He was the new beginning.

Time had distorted Tuolo’s voice. He wheezed every so often, sounding more and more like his insides were becoming hollow. In his hoarse, dreadfully aged voice, he tried to shout, “you are the prophetic evil of our time!”

“And you,” Larkin smiled, “you fear change.”

They stood facing each other in an empty, vast hallway on the far side of the castle. Windows lined the length of one wall, the moonlight shining directly through onto them. Larkin turned his back to the light, clasped his gloved hands in front of him, and stared down at the man who was barely half his height. That ugly face turned up to him, eyes nearly gone beneath folds of wrinkled skin. But in those tiny black eyes were both hate and fear.

“The stink of death follows you,” hissed Tuolo, “I bow to no serpent.”

Larkin’s hand cupped the side of the old man’s face. The expression there suddenly began to change. The set in Tuolo’s jaw relaxed, his eyes opened from narrowed slits to stare blankly into Larkin’s own.

“Tell me of the tower, Tuolo.”

“What do you want to know?” he wheezed, tears slipping down his cracked and spotted cheeks.

“I already know that He is dead. Every last pathetic one of them is dead. I want to know where it is. The magnificent and legendary castle tower; you will tell me how to reach it. Tell me how to penetrate its walls.”

“He lives,” Tuolo gasped, “over the Perandes, hidden first in the Mists of Her Breath and then inside the twists of his tower.” Tuolo was visibly struggling for control of his body and mind, his feeble arms desperately trying to raise, to knock away Larkin’s hands. He bared silver teeth and hissed, “He will strike you down.”

“Is this so?” Larkin asked, amused, smiling. He stroked the man’s fuzzy cheek with a leather enclosed finger. The light glinted on the tip of that finger, where something deadly peeked out.

“He sees all. He sees you and He knows you will come.”

“Ancient Tuolo, I once believed the very same. Long live our shadowy King, whom has been abandoned in his tower, forgotten and alone.”

A tiny droplet of blood shone red on the side of Tuolo’s face.

“I am King now,” Larkin said, releasing Tuolo from his gaze. The old man stepped back and brought a hand to his cheek. His knees began to buckle.

As Larkin turned away from the old man, Sashin walked toward him from the end of the hallway. There was a reserved expression on his face and he went to both knees in front of Larkin. He did not rise until Larkin gave an exasperated sigh and granted him permission. Still then, Sashin did not look up into his face and kept his head bowed.

Archine Tuolo thumped to the floor a moment later.

“You killed my priesthood,” he said.

Larkin laughed. “You killed your own priesthood with whores and diamonds. I don’t have the desire to replace your men. They were mere servants to you. I am glad you are here, however, so that I may tell you that you belong to me now. Nothing you have is yours any longer. Your robe,” Larkin reached out and pinched the fabric on Sashin’s shoulder, “is mine. Stay in the temple, if you please. I will be needing your services in the future.”

Larkin rubbed the tips of his fingers over his own robe and walked past Sashin, but paused and turn, his eyes set on the crumpled body behind Sashin. “And have someone take care of that mess,” he said.

“She is alive,” Sashin called after him.




Jannika and Aurora sat on the right and left hand of Larkin, Aurora barely picking at her meal. Larkin did the same, but for reasons that he made apparent were due to taste. Talos sat a seat down from Jannika, and a seat down from Aurora sat Elborg.

“The councils have been initiated into the cities,” Talos said. He was generally a quiet man, choosing only to speak when it was necessary. The other two men were much the same, and Aurora had gradually picked up this habit. Now it was Larkin who chose to speak more often. He was preoccupied and did not display concern for what his cadre had been doing for him. The complete renovation of a government was not a simple thing.

But instating himself as dictator – Larkin found himself with little trouble. His health bothered him, however, and he complained about a lack of appetite and feeling often faint.

Jannika was not gullible. He had not seen the often-spoke-of wound in Larkin’s chest, but felt it affected the man little. These small displays of weakness were, to him, and obvious attempt to fool one of them into underestimating the ruler. To the others, the feigning was entirely believable. But Jannika, like Larkin, could rarely be lied to.

It was Aurora that was the weak one. When out of Larkin’s sight, she became angry and nervous, deeply worried and her face became years older than it was. If one of them was to ever betray their King, it would first be Aurora. She did not openly disagree with Larkin’s orders, but unwisely let her disapproval show.

Elborg, who was disgusted by a woman being in such a high position, was conspiring to kill Aurora. Not with his own hands, but politically. The moment she spoke against the King, Elborg would first to Larkin’s ear. In Larkin’s court, there was little difference between political disaster and death. Elborg rarely left Aurora to work alone.

After having the servants take his plate and bring him something fresh, Larkin began to take small bites, staring fixedly out the dining hall windows. The thoughtful look on his face succeeded in gaining the other’s attention. Each time he swallowed, they expected him to speak, but again he took another bite. The moment they decided he wasn’t going to say anything, Larkin spoke.

“You have three days to have everything in order, then we are going to the tower.”

“What?” Aurora looked up.

Larkin was standing from his chair and looked at her sharply. “Your eyes are swollen, Aurora. It looks like you haven’t been sleeping. What is it that keeps you from sleep?”

Aurora lowered her eyes to her plate. She was not defeated, only angry. Despite years of hiding her emotion, she lost all ability to control her features and they revealed all the King. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin while staring at her, then said, “Each one of you may leave someone in your place to keep order here. I will have a communication line spread from here to the tower for emergencies.

Jannika?”

“Yes, sire?”

“There is a fine multitude of trained soldiers, I presume?”

Jannika nodded. Unlike Aurora, he was not surprised Larkin opted for them to approach the tower. He had, in fact, expected it sooner. “An excess, your majesty.”

“Good. I have a map for you. It’s in my office. Would you like to join me?”

There was a glint in Larkin’s eyes that pleased Jannika. Something told him Larkin’s visions were beginning to reveal themselves. The mystery with which Larkin spoke to them and evaded their questions would finally dissipate.




After giving Jannika his instructions, Larkin went to see Stelon. Every time he chose to see the girl, he felt as if the decision had been made by someone else. Somewhere, inside of him, his voice of reason was reprimanding, telling him this was all a waste of his precious time, but he could barely hear it. He opened the door to her room, found the room lit only by candles, and sweetly called her name.