I Destroy the Empire

Chapter 4: A-tisket, A-tasket

The sight was gruesome.

Pyralis slowly walked up to him. “See? That’s what happens when you run in a house. It’s... so uncivilized.”

Before the man could even process the words, Pyralis’s right hand, his 'Ossian Claws', flashed. Four razor-sharp, steel-like talons extended from his fingertips and swiped across the guard’s throat.

It was over before the body hit the floor.

Elara emerged from the shadows, her rapier never leaving its sheath. “You’re a theatrical, bloody nightmare, you know that? We could have just slipped by.”

“And miss the party?” Pyralis said, wiping his claws on the dead man’s tunic. “Come now, Elara. Let’s not be rude to our host.”

They moved through the silent halls and found Lord Valgus not in his study, but in his chambers, cowering behind his bed, his quivering wife and two young children beside him.

Elara had her rapier at the wife's throat before she could scream. Pyralis just smiled.

“Lord Valgus. What… a… pleasure. I see you’ve mixed company tonight. We just cleared out your pet bandits in the barracks. And your personal knights are... Well, napping.”

Pyralis idly inspected a golden statuette hung to the wall, his voice light and conversational.

“Knights and bandits, working together. That’s so fucking funny. It’s like the whole kingdom is one big, corrupt circle-jerk, and you, my friend… are right in the middle with your mouth wide open.”

Valgus, a fat man in a silk nightgown, was already weeping, a dark stain spreading on his expensive breeches.

“Please! Please, I’ll give you anything! Money? Is it money? I have chests of it! Power? I have connections! I can make you a baron! Just name your price!”

Pyralis stopped and tilted his head. He turned, his amber eyes holding a deceptive warmth.

“Money, huh…” he mused. He tapped a clawed finger on his chin. “You know… A philosopher named Seneca, once said, ‘Wealth is the slave of a wise man; the master of a fool.’ And you, my lord, are well and truly mastered if you think Pyralis Cinderfall will be swayed by your wealth.”

He stepped closer with a wide smile across his face. Valgus began to hyperventilate.

“And I’m afraid,” Pyralis continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “that only your life will satiate my hunger. And I am so much hungrier than Fenris the Wolf right... now.”

The name of the kingdom's infamous werewolf, a known lieutenant of Theron's, did the trick. Lord Valgus, the man who bought and sold slaves had completely lost control of his bladder. The smell of urine was sharp in the lavish room.

Pyralis looked the sight with an eyebrow raised.

Then he burst out laughing. A loud, genuine, maniacal laugh.

“Hah! Oh, gods, you actually pissed yourself! That’s... that’s pathetic, even for you.”

He wiped a tear from his eye.

“Oh, relax, you fat sack of shit. I’m not going to kill you.”

Valgus looked up, his face a mask of confusion and desperate, pitiful hope.

“I didn’t mean I was hungry,” Pyralis said, his smile turning cruel again. “I was just quoting my pet.”

From the satchel at Pyralis’s hip, something moved.

A semi-translucent, gelatinous mass, shimmering with the oily gleam of sickly green and purple, oozed from the bag and onto the priceless rug. It smelled faintly of ozone and vinegar.

It was 'Slimey'.

The ooze, an Aberration with pure chemical hunger had begun to flow across the floor. It had no eyes, but the bright, sentient mote of light pulsing within its core looked straight at Valgus.

The nobleman’s hope died. He opened his mouth to scream.

The ooze was faster. It lunged and enveloped the man’s head and torso in its corrosive mass.

The scream instantly became a thick, muffled, bubbling shriek... and then just a fizzing sound. Slimey was a being of pure, efficient dissolution. Lord Valgus simply... melted, his silk and flesh dissolving into a bubbling, acidic slurry in seconds.

A telepathic voice, sounding like a grumpy old man, echoed in Pyralis’s head.

<Who is your pet, you dumb piece of shit?>

“You are, Slimey,” Pyralis said out loud, turning to his companion.

<I am a symbiotic weapon of mass destruction! Not a 'pet'!>

“Keep it up, Slimey, and I will mop you,” Pyralis shot back, poking the ooze with his boot.

<You wouldn't dare! I’ll dissolve your new limbs while you sleep!>

Elara sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are you two done? Kaelen’s waiting.”

Pyralis turned to the stunned, silent family. “Don’t worry. He's been... re-allocated. This manor and its assets now belong to the Cinderfall 'Orphanage'. A-tisket, a-tasket you to get your shit in a basket.”

Elara finally removed her blade from the woman’s throat. “You heard him. Run.”

The family scrambled, falling over each other to flee the room.

As they fled, Elara didn't just grab jewels. She went straight to Valgus’s heavy oak desk. “This isn't just a robbery, you idiot,” she muttered.

“Boring,” Pyralis said, pocketing a diamond necklace.

“He was a slaver. He kept ledgers,” Elara said, pulling a heavy, leather-bound book from a hidden drawer. She flipped it open. “This 'boring' ledger lists every noble who bought 'stock' from him. Including... oh, look at this. A regular, monthly shipment to a First Knight border garrison... run by a 'B.U.'.”

Pyralis’s smile vanished. “B.U.? Brog the Unbroken. He’s using slaves for manual labour on Theron’s behalf. He’s too dumb for paperwork though so I assume this is a coverup.”

“This is the real score,” Elara said, tucking the book into her own satchel. “Now we can go.”

Pyralis and Elara ransacked the room, taking everything valuable to make it seem like a robbery. Of course, that was to give the people an excuse. He doubted Lord Theron will believe this was done by bandits. Valgus was a bandit himself after all.

They ran to the rooftop when they were done.

As they reached the peak, a shadow fell over them. A sleek, dark reptile with leathery wings, a full-blooded Wyvern swooped from the sky. At its reins was Kaelen, his silver hair immaculate even in the wind.

“Took you long enough,” Kaelen called down. “I was getting cold. And Lyra is already halfway through her second sandwich.”

“Bitching, bitching. Everyone is a critic,” Pyralis muttered, grabbing the rope ladder as the city alarms finally began to wail below.

“Enough of that,” Elara said, smacking his head as she climbed past him.

He smiled and teased, “Yes Mommy.”