“Perfect, sir?”
“Yes, don’t you see? All we have to do is go down there and kill Blatson, then offer his soldiers a chance to follow Truloy, or end up in prison or killed. We can run this military coup, even without the other branch of military here.”
“Truloy and some of her soldiers are marching to this compound as we speak. Should be here in a few hours.”
I watched my breath float in smoky swirls into the cool air. “I don’t want to wait. Let’s set the stage for them. Besides… This is now something personal between me and Blatson…”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, Commander… Don’t let your personal feelings cloud the strategy.”
“Shoot, Bravo. You can control the whole strategy, if you want. All I want is to duel Blatson.” I smiled at her and motioned to everyone that we were getting ready to move down on the compound. All I want is a chance to kill him…
“All right, then I say you enter alone, through the front gates, first. We will take out the guards and come in after. We have intercepted some of the guard’s thoughts and they are instructed to bring you to Blatson alive. Especially since they will want to find Zaya. Blatson doesn’t know we are here, so we will come in to support you once they are distracted by your arrival.”
I smiled and nodded. “Sounds good.” I gave her a salute and skipped away down the hill.
The guards took far too long, in my opinion, to notice me approaching, but when they did, they threw their bows up to their shoulders and demanded I stop approaching. I did not.
“I’m the Curan whom General Blatson is expecting,” I said, as four arrows pointed straight at my throat. I continued walking toward them. One lunged forward, his arrow coming dangerously close to scraping me. I pulsed him back with a whiff of telekinesis. He flew backward and crashed against the wall, slumping down with wide eyes. “I will see Blatson now. Let me in.”
The guard stood up and opened the gate, but two of the guards followed me in, still holding arrows trained at my back.
There were at least twenty soldiers immediately visible as I walked into the camp, all of whom stopped to watch me parade through their ranks.
“Charzbos…” Out of all the whispered words as the soldiers watched me walk, barbarian was the most clearly spoken.
There was a large building at the center of the compound, two guards outside its doors, bold red banners with an equinwing rearing up on its back legs in gold, hanging from the side. I stopped in front of this building.
“I’m assuming Blatson is in here?” The guards nodded, the two at the door pointing their swords at me, startled to see their comrades essentially being led by a prisoner straight to their General.
“We will take your weapons now.”
I shrugged and twirled my fingers in the air a few times. All the sheaths came untied and unclipped, floating into the air in front of the guards. Their eyes were wide as they plucked them from the air.
“Charzbos…”
“Charzbos…”
I waved away the word. “If I’m such a barbarian, don’t you think you should do what I say? And don’t--” I held up my hand as one of the guards started to lay his hand on my arm, “don’t you dare touch me.”
The guard snapped his hand back, but kept his sword leveled toward my chest. The wide doors opened and I walked in, escorted by my armed guards. I was feeling good, sauntering as I walked, my eyes coolly taking in the numbers of soldiers in the hall, the weapons around me, how easy they would be to procure. These guys had no idea what was coming their way…
The hall was narrow, banners hanging from the ceiling, with a few pillared alcoves making it wider, allowing for some cover, once the fight began. There was a door not far from the command table at the very end. Another entrance, which I hoped Ilisa would find. There was a tall balcony above the command table that had three soldiers who trained their bows at me immediately.
General Blatson was standing behind the command table, looking down at spread out maps and drawings. As I approached, he turned. His dress coat was slung over a high-backed chair nearby, its many ribbons, chevrons, and plaque boards making it look like a heavy piece of clothing to wear around on a daily basis. So much pomp and circumstance. With the jacket off, his rippling muscles were clear beneath a thin tan shirt, straining the sleeves, suspenders bending over his cut pectoral muscles. His beard and trim were large, but well groomed. His eyes were razor sharp. He was meeting my expectations. Not many bumbling idiots became leaders of entire worlds, not without other people backing them, and Blatson had fought hard for his role.
From the dossier I had perused on the trip over to Vailstor, the main reason Farian was leaning toward Truloy over Blatson, except for ease of Blatson already being established, was that she seemed less ruthless. Less keen to slice apart her people’s throats in order to get ahead. She had no desire for a monarchy, but was willing to bolster the meager parliament that existed on Vailstor and bring it into this century as a democracy. Farian would prefer to do trade with those types of colonies, as they were more sustainable into the future. Now, we could be the ones to help give Blatson the shove off the precipice. My knives would make sure he never hit the ground…
“Good evening, Curan,” the General said. He tossed a pencil down, rubbed his hands together, and leaned his elbows back on the high table behind him, lounging, analyzing me, seemingly cool and collected. However, when I sent a little look into his mind, his fury with me was overwhelming. It was a good call to
