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Douye Soroh
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Intro:
Perry walked into the Emperor's throne room carrying a severed head in a sack — and somehow, that was the least dangerous thing in the room. This is Part 2 of The Four Kingdoms series. Emperor Albert the First is a man who executes failure as casually as he breathes, and General Flick is already on his knees counting his last seconds. But while the Emperor's eyes are fixed on Perry, three conquered kings sitting in the aisle are exchanging secret hand signals right under his nose — plotting something that could unravel the entire empire. What none of them know is that the Emperor is watching every single one of them. Read Part 1 first if you haven't already.
Perry wasted no time in parting Head Taker's head, which he wondered how ironic it is—dying at the hand of your own name. And that was how the villagers who had been chasing him found him, holding Head Taker's head with his chest heaving. Everything about the Chief's wife was forgotten, and Perry was escorted to the village as a hero; and then news flew fast to the palace.
Back in the Palace
"Did they name you Flick because your eyes are always flicking?" the Emperor asked as he advanced on General Flick. "I gave you a simple task, but you failed. And you know how I detest failure; the consequences of failing me have a huge price to pay."
There was a commotion at the huge double doors which drew the Emperor's attention and saved General Flick's life.
"How dare you interrupt me!" he snarled at the guard.
The guard bowed low. "I do not, Great Emperor. There is a new development which needs your urgent attention."
"It should wait. I have a fee to collect from this failure here," he said, glaring at the General. "Let me lop off his head."
"Great Emperor," the guard bowed again, "I believe what is beyond the door will interest you and spare his life."
General Flick could be seen breathing hard. He thought his time had come, but when he heard the guard's words, he prayed to any gods that would listen for the intervention.
"Really?"
"Yes, Great Emperor."
The Emperor was having a faraway look, while those in the room held their breath. They knew this is the moment he may strike and then complain about none of them stopping him later, after the deed has been done. General Flick’s lips were moving silently, praying to every god he knew for salvation.
The Emperor gave a curt nod to the guard and lowered the sword. There was a collective release of breath which was audible with a large sigh. General Flick couldn't stop his hands from trembling. He vowed to resign if he had the chance. He slumped on the floor holding his neck, not believing it is still attached to his head.
He lay there on the posh marble floor, just staring at the huge double doors and whoever is his savior. Perry knew about the Emperor and his meanness, and how easily he parts limbs from body. He saw a man on the floor wearing military armor covered in sweat and drool with eyes bulging and flicking as if he is seeing stars.
He is led to the foot of the throne, sack over his shoulder. He hadn't rested since the run, and the exhaustion is getting at him; he needs his bed. The events that happened after the villagers had found him were still blurry in his mind, and he is still shocked to see that he is still alive after facing Head Taker. He thought Head Taker was the last thing he expected to see, but still walking and breathing is a miracle he will always cherish, and he believes the gods are truly with him.
As he walked to the throne, he couldn't help noticing the opulence and the golden throne glittering at the end of the walkway. Even the chandelier is made of gold; he could see the riches of the kingdom in everything he looked at. He was stopped a few feet from the throne by the guards, but the Emperor waved them away. "Come closer."
Perry thought he had a smooth voice that can deceive people—but not him. He was excited and a bit afraid at the same time; this is the man who had killed many and conquered the other kingdoms to form the Great Empire. But he dismissed that thought; he had faced Head Taker, and no one could have survived that brute, even this Emperor.
He bowed to the Emperor, bulging sack still slumped over his shoulder.
"I was told you have something for me?"
"Yes, Great Emperor," Perry replied.
"Show me."
Perry lifted the sack from his shoulder and upturned Head Taker's head on the throne floor. There were gasps from the onlookers and muttering of abomination and prophecy coming true. General Flick could be seen shaking like he had a seizure.
"QUIET!" The Emperor commanded, and the muttering stopped. He beckoned Perry with his index finger to come closer. "You're more capable than my General."
Perry kept silent and could only bow, not saying a word; after all, it was a statement and not a question. One thing the Emperor doesn't know about the other kingdoms he had conquered is the secret hand signals they use in communication, which were taking place right at that moment as the Emperor focused on Perry.
Ragnor had always been crafty and a mean bastard at heart. He is the son of the former king of the Eastern Kingdom, and rumor has it that he killed his father to take over the throne; that is why there was no resistance when the army of Emperor Albert invaded the country, and it was dubbed as the easiest victory. Ragnor has a pale complexion and eyes as dark as midnight; he has a scar on his right cheek he got while playing with a wooden sword at age ten with his cousin, Brin—whom he killed after he had taken the throne as payback for that scar. There is a permanent snarl on his face, as he had always been scowling, which has stuck. He hates dealing with those below his status.
Ben-Ali is the leader of the Western Kingdom. He is fat and lazy but has a very shrewd mind. He sat there on the aisle, round face sweating and shrunken eyes calculating every move, fat cheeks wobbling from every shake of his head.
Jubal is as thin as a slim blade with a white wispy beard at his chin. He had a long face like a vase with dark hair flowing down his shoulder, with thick eyebrows and blue eyes that pierce the soul. People always describe Jubal as a deadly beauty; he is as brutal as a gladiator in a desperate fight, and at that moment, he is furiously giving Ragnor the signal by spreading his left hand and using his right thumb to touch his middle finger.
"It is time to act now," he said.
Ragnor tapped the table twice with his index finger. "I know."
Ben-Ali glared at them and folded his right hand, clinching it in his left
palm. "I will do the talking."
Jubal flicked his index finger with his thumb. "Don't be foolish; you're weak."
Emperor Albert the First looked at the gift from Perry. The hall grew quiet as he stood up, his eyes momentarily flicking to General Flick, who cowered from the glare.
“So many people have died, and a whole city vanished, and yet no one could find out who was responsible. No one—not even my so-called General.”
The Emperor paused, his eyes now roaming, looking at everyone in the room. He smiled a nasty smile when no one was able to meet his eyes.
“Now this young man did more than all the military put together. He made it possible for us to know our enemy, and he did it in style by bringing evidence. General Flick, what do you have to say?”
The Emperor asked, grinning—but it never reached his eyes.
The Fate of Failure
“I… failed,” General Flick stammered.
“And what do we do to failure?”
At this, General Flick started shaking. No one could save him—he knew he was done for. He knelt, and with pleading eyes opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“General! I asked you a question,” the Emperor said.
“We execute failure,” the General said finally, as his breathing started coming hard.
The Emperor smiled. “Well, that is great news, because we have traitors in our midst.”
He looked at Ragnor and shook his head.
“You’re a fool. You thought I don’t know what you have been talking about? With that stupid hand gesture?”
“Great Emperor, you must be mistaken,” Ragnor said, bowing low.
“Am I now? Maybe if I start trimming limbs, I will get to the answer faster, right?” the Emperor asked him.
Ragnor swallowed hard. He tried to mop his brow, but his hands were shaking so violently that he couldn’t lift them.
“Your Majesty…” he said, falling to his knees in a kowtow.
“If you want me to spare your lives,” he said, looking at the others, “then bring your armies and defeat the barbarians.”
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