Zorren had been pleasantly surprised at the outcome of the Advisory Council meeting. That there were none who had rejected his proposal was more fortune than he could have hoped. He was in quite high spirits as he traveled back to the Magistrate compound in Holun Caras. Quite happy still as he climbed the steps one at a time in perfect rhythm. Happy he remained until the moment he opened the door to that highest study in the north most tower, and was confronted with the bitter glaring of Marquess Viemen.

  Frederick had stood immediately upon hearing footsteps; and he was in front of Zorren before the door had even began to close shut. In the chair nearest to Frederick sat Vrastus, wearing the face of Caleb. He remained silent and observant.

  “I did not expect to see you so soon,” Zorren said calmly as he lifted his hand from the door handle.

  “I could wait no longer,” Frederick answered. There was a familiar twinge of anger in his voice. But there was something more ferocious beneath it as well. Recognizing the impending storm, Zorren prepared himself as he crossed the room.

  “Won’t you sit?”

  “This is no trifling matter Zorren! They have attacked me in my home!”

  “Who has attacked you?” Zorren asked, doing his very best to remain calm in the face of Frederick’s ire.

  “Those bastards in Viemen! Peasants! Vagrants! They slunk in the night to my home and set fire to my storehouses! It was a miracle that the manor was spared!”

  “That is fortunate indeed.”

  “They went after my wife— after my children! If it were not for the guards, there is no telling what they would have done!”

  “Frederick, I understand you are upset—”

  “Upset!? I am livid beyond words, Zorren!” Frederick stormed to the other end of the room as he spoke, drawing himself close to Zorren. “I want revenge.”

  “And you shall have it,” Zorren said as he stood upright before Frederick. “You need only be patient.”

  “Patient for what!?”

  Frederick’s glaring scowl remained unchanged, and so Zorren continued, hoping to convince him to see reason.

  “When all is said and done, you will have control over Viemen.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “When?”

  Zorren took a deep breath before continuing.

  “That is a question I cannot answer.”

  “When, Zorren!?”

  There came no response to his desperate questioning, and the silence between them did little to calm Frederick.

  “I am done waiting!” Frederick shouted. “No more games. No more planning. We tried it your way. I have done my waiting. And look at what has happened!? They worship Perry as a god! The whole of Eadenfros does as well! And what of Rothwell? He is untouched. Guarded by that brooding foreigner and still scheming on his own behind closed doors.” Rothwell was becoming hotter with anger the more he spoke. “You’ve done nothing of what you’ve promised!”

  “The plans are being worked on, Frederick, and the surveyors have already begun. In time, the river will—”

  “Fuck the river, Zorren! If I hear one more word about the river, I will—”

  “You will what!?”

  Zorren was standing now, his chest flared and his breath quick. The two men stared at one another; locked in unspoken combat. But it was Zorren first who regained composure. He steadied himself and breathed deep before speaking.

  “I am trying to work with you, Frederick. You do understand this?”

  “It doesn’t matter that you try, Zorren. Things are happening regardless. The people have no love for me. They have grown bold enough to assault me on my own estate. There could be talks of uprising— of rebellion!”

  “A rebellion is unlikely, Frederick,” Zorren sighed. “This is only a momentary setback.”

  “You have not seen them…” Frederick looked over Zorren with such disdain that it was nearly palpable. “You couldn’t possibly know. I have seen their anger. I have seen their utter, putrid distaste for me— as well as their devotion to him. If he should but say the word, they will turn on me in an instant, and it will all have been for naught.”

  Zorren opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted suddenly by Vrastus.

  “Forgive me, but I have forgotten to mention something.”

  The two men turned to him. Though, while Frederick wore a look of surprise, Zorren’s eyes sparked of warning. A warning which Vrastus avidly ignored.

  “Rothwell has been meeting with Perry in secret.”

  Frederick’s eyes widened into madness.

  “YOU HAVE KEPT THIS FROM ME!?”

  Zorren shot Vrastus a terrible look of disapproval, but it seemed to do little.

  “Frederick, I have only just now become aware of this information.”

  Frederick could barely contain his rage, and were it not for Zorren’s status and position above his own, he would have swung wildly upon him. With every ounce of restraint Frederick could muster he tore himself away from Zorren and headed toward the door. “I want them gone, Zorren! Do you hear me? GONE!” And as Frederick wrapped his hand tightly around the door handle he lowered his voice to a growl. “Otherwise, I will see to it that Viemen is lost to you. Forever.”

  With that, Frederick ripped open the door and slammed it behind him.