Rebel, Pawn, King by Morgan Rice

Author:Morgan Rice [Rice, Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Morgan Rice
Published: 2016-12-12T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

King Claudius sat alone, contemplating life. Contemplating death. It was strange how, the older he got, the more those two seemed to be bound up with one another. He sat in his private chambers, his sword bare across his knees, the way it had been when Thanos had come to him. Thinking back on what he’d done to his son then, it was hard to feel anything but shame.

Lord West would be long dead by now. That thought brought the dull ache of sadness with it, because he had been a good man, an honorable one. King Claudius had always seen West as everything a nobleman could hope to live up to. What did that say about him?

He’d been thinking about that for a long time now, sitting in his room, the faces of his ancestors looking back in sculpted stone from their niches.

“Did you ever feel like this?” he wondered aloud. “Did you ever look back on the things you did and realize that you had done more harm than good?”

He couldn’t imagine it. Just think of the names of his ancestors. Cleus Ironfist, who crushed the forest lands of the eastern Empire, leaving enemies hanging from every tree, and tearing up so much that farmers grazed their herds there now. Barathon the Bloody, who fought thirty duels himself against those who would challenge him, losing only the last, to the one son he hadn’t killed.

“And what will they say about me?” Claudius asked himself. That he was the worst of the lot, perhaps. That in his blood-soaked reign, the Empire tore itself apart so thoroughly it was never the same again. That there was never another ruler as cruel or dishonorable.

Except that wasn’t true, was it?

“There is still my son to come,” Claudius said to the ghosts of his ancestors. He would make all of them look like nothing.

He stood at the sound of the door opening, and saw the servant who entered shrink back in fear at the sight of him. Perhaps it was the sword, but Claudius doubted it was just that. Even without it, how many times had he seen servants and slaves cringe away? How many times had he summoned serving girls to him, only to feel their fear?

“What is it?” Claudius asked.

“F-forgive me, your majesty, I know you didn’t want to be disturbed… it’s just—”

“Out with it, man,” Claudius snapped on instinct, and the servant actually shrank back against the wall, not saying anything.

Claudius could guess what he’d been doing there, though. He’d been the poor, unfortunate fool low enough down the ladder to be ordered into his chambers even after he’d said no one should come in.

Someone had sent him in to check that the king was still breathing and well. Possibly his wife, or his son, although in truth it was more likely to be one of his guards. Athena and Lucious were both perfectly happy getting on with their own endeavors without him there. Possibly too happy, given what some of those efforts amounted to.

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