"Let's Go For A Walk."

“Tawson.”

The word was spoken softly by a man who, despite the fact the birthdays that had passed him were few, looked far older. Speculations ranged from dark magic to a rare disease, but Fel Knight Enair Tawson knew it to be nothing more than the burden of command, the decisions that haunted one throughout the oppressive night and into the dawn’s feeble rays.

It was a voice, however, that sent a chill down his spine, one that had nothing to do with the icy twilight.

“Ser.” He responded, managing to ensure the word came out smoothly despite his abruptly dry mouth, turning and saluting with a fist over his heart.

Ser T’Van den Scath Kokori stood in the fading light, hands clasped behind him and nestled in the small of his back. Despite the authority he held as Seventh Sentinel of the Imperial Guard, the two of them had joined the guard at very nearly the same time, both serving under the former Seventh Sentinel, Sera Kaida den Invulad Raida.

Those years of service together, however, meant nothing in T’Van’s gaze, as Tawson was well aware.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

The words confirmed what Tawson had feared:

He knew.

“Yes Ser.” Was the only thing he could say.

The two of them fell into silent step, walking out from the garrison’s secure walls with T’Van slightly ahead, and Tawson took surprised note that T’Van had taken the left position. True, a swing of the sword drawn from the sheathe could have devastating impact, should it land, but with both soldiers wearing the armor of the Imperial Guard, a blow would have to come to the neck in order to have a chance at dealing damage, whereas Tawson was in the prime position to counter, able to step close and thrust a dagger in the vulnerable gaps of his superior’s armor. 

Is he trying to give me a chance? Convince me this is a peaceful meeting?

The first guess seemed more likely, as Tawson was certain bloodshed was inevitable. It usually was, to those who defied the rising tyrant. Still, he liked his chances, recalculating the odds with every step and finding them heavily weighed in his favor.

Coming to that realization, he relaxed, allowing his joints the mobility they needed to respond to any attack, not frozen in nervousness or fear, calming his mind to be able to react faster than conscious thought. 

“You’ve been busy of late.” T’Van said as they made their way out of the Imperial City itself, down towards the darkening mountainside that protected the jagged fortress, a natural barrier that had kept the Ryotian Empire safe for well over a thousand years.

“Ser?”

“Training new recruits for the army, ensuring the quality of their training is at its maximum potential. I have been impressed, to say the least. You’ve certainly gone above and beyond what your duty calls for.”

Tawson blinked. For a moment, he lowered his guard before realizing what he had done and re-focusing on defense, but no blow occurred during the lapse of concentration. T’Van’s words were sincere.

“Thank you, Ser.” He replied, though he remained on alert. “I do what the Empire calls for.”

“Funny word, isn’t it?”

“...Ser?”

“Empire.” T’Van led them to a rocky outcropping that provided an excellent view of the foothills and flatlands beyond, lights visible all the way down the miles of treacherous, and then gentle, terrain. An empire indeed, with only a miniscule portion of the land able to be viewed even on the clearest day.

“I’m not sure I understand.” Tawson said slowly, noting T’Van kept the both of them well back from the ledge. If his superior had planned to throw him off the cliff to make it seem like suicide or an accident, he was too far away for such a plan.

“We’ve been called an empire since our foundation.” T’Van replied, tired eyes viewing the shadowy valley. “Yet when it was formed, it was a dozen huts hidden from the world. ‘Empire’ indeed. Lofty words inspire lofty aspirations, and lofty aspirations lead to lofty heights that we may tumble heavily from.”

Tawson was lost, and his silence said as much.

“Forgive me.” T’Van sighed. “Sera Kaida and I would come here, before the war. She’d debate philosophy and history with me, challenge my views, playing the demon’s advocate. We passed many nights here, and I suppose nostalgia is an easy trap to fall into.”

“She was…a wise woman.” Tawson replied, thinking back to the woman that had trained them both, a woman who had been lost to the demon scourge and that had fueled T’Van’s rage and desire to rise above and rule.

His stomach tightened in anger. How dare he talk of her, when all he did was use her death to drag countless others to their demise!

“I often wonder,” T’Van said, breaking into Tawson’s thoughts, “what would have happened if you had been made the Seventh Sentinel, instead of me.”

Tawson stared, wondering if perhaps he had been wrong about the purpose of this meeting, the realization only fueled as T’Van walked to the cliff’s very edge, in the perfect position to be shoved off. Even a warrior as great as he would be unable to survive the fall, and Tawson began to ponder his chance against the new thought that T’Van might not be the villain he imagined when the next sentence that came from his superior’s mouth erased the doubt from his mind completely.

“I think she would have been ashamed, had she lived this long, that she mentored a traitor and a cur.”

He knows.

For the second time that night, the thought came to the forefront of his mind as he drew his sword from its sheathe, the distinctive ring cutting through the night.

“That’s not a comment to be made when one is so close to falling.” He said steadily.

“So it’s true. I had hoped that Adalyn had been mistaken, but it seems my comrade is correct once again.” T’Van replied without turning, making Tawson’s blood run cold as he realized that the comment had been nothing more than bait, unwittingly snatched and triggering the track that he, the prey, had blundered into.

Still, the odds were in his favor, and he knew he could end the problem with a single sword strike. Drawing his dagger with his left hand, he prepared his attack, envisioning every conceivable outcome, cutting off T'Van's retreat.

“Cut off his flank, press your advantage, ensure he cannot move from the cliff face. Do it quickly enough and you can catch him before his weapon is drawn, forcing him off the cliff. Even a warrior as great as he cannot survive the fall.” T’Van said as he turned, face stone and eyes cold, shaking Tawson’s confidence as his superior recited, very nearly word for word, what had been going through his head.

Of course he knew. He dismissed the worry. Kaida trained us both, after all.

There was a small doubt in his mind, placed there by the fact that T’Van looked like he had all the cards, but it was only a small one.

“Look behind you.”

Suddenly, the doubt was much larger.

He retreated a few steps, taking a quick glance over his shoulder, but T’Van did not move and there was no one else behind him.

“That’s right, Tawson. Take a good look.” T’Van continued, voice condescending.

“There’s no one there.” Tawson replied, calling T’Van’s bluff.

“Correct. This is simply between you and me. As you wander the Dark Forest for your treachery, you’ll be able to blame none but yourself for your failure, for your greed, and for your fall.”

The words were delivered in a low but steady voice, one that seemed to speak the truth.

“Nice talk, but your death is now, tyrant.” Tawson spat back, beginning his advance.

“You call me a tyrant. I wonder why.”

Tawson, secure in the knowledge of his advantage, saw no reason not to enlighten T’Van.

“You rise to above your place and demand more than the people can give, you eliminate anyone who stands in your way, and you work our land and our army to its death! The nations of the world will not stand for your coming war, and it will be the ruin of us all!”

“So, it’s her words that you speak.” T’Van replied coldly, walking forward until Tawson’s blade was pressed against his chest plate. 

“She speaks the truth, and she is your queen.”

“She’s a spoiled brat that knows nothing of the world, and she is not my queen.” 

“Then you die a traitor as well as a tyrant.”

“Incorrect.” T’Van replied. “Call me a tyrant, if you will, and I’ll accept the title gladly. First I was a fool for fighting before I was ready, then I was a hero when I won, and after I was mighty when I lived and others died, and now I’m a tyrant for who I was all along: Someone who had the balls to do what none of you spineless heaps of whore’s sheets had the guts to do in the first place! That places me far from a traitor, doesn’t it?”

As Tawson drew his blade back only briefly to give him room to stab for T’Van’s throat, he felt his footing give way.

“Oh, and I’m not the one dying tonight. I’ll give my sister your regards, shall I?”

Too late, Tawson noticed the crimson gleam from T’Van’s scabbard, understanding immediately why the Seventh Sentinel hadn’t drawn it in response to the threat from Tawson.

The magic it produced had been channeled underground, the mastery over fire the Cursed Blade gave T’Van used to turn the ground under Tawson’s feet to lava. All T’Van had to do was rile up Tawson’s emotions so that the Fel Knight was too distracted to notice the ground’s gradual softening, and when it was time, a final burst of magic eliminated the sturdy rock and dropped Tawson feet-first into hell as T’Van watched impassively, not even flinching at Tawson’s agonized screams.

To the Fel Knight’s horror, the lava shifted, covering the hole and cooling to seal his tomb as he still burned, the last sight he witnessed alive being the stars shut out from his eyes as he sank into his searing grave, the worst fate that could possibly befall a Ryotian, or as they were known to the other races, children of the sky.

T’Van watched as the grave sealed itself, turning away as the magic was drawn back into his blade. 

“Thank you.” He told it, feeling the briefest pulse of magic as it showed acknowledgement to his gratitude. 

In the morn, the military command would receive and unseal the orders from T’Van to Tawson for a secret reconnaissance mission to the southern border of the Empire. It would then be acknowledged and sealed by their hand. When spies inevitably found it, it would explain the Fel Knight’s absence, and a prearranged letter in a few years would report Tawson’s tragic death and dismemberment at the hands of a hostile neighbor, prompting the demand for another war and removing the need for a body to be produced.

He found himself smiling, the blade at his side pulsing in curiosity.

“Oh, it’s just that word. ‘Tyrant.’”

Another pulse of curiosity made him chuckle a bit.

“Oh, I just find that I like it. ‘Tyrant.’ It’s got a pleasant ring to it, wouldn’t you agree?”

The Cursed Blade pulsed in agreement, its bearer’s chuckles fading into the darkness as Tawson’s body found its place next to countless others.

He and Kaida had spent many nights on the cliff, indeed.

I think my favorite phrase has to be, ‘let’s go for a walk.’ He thought contently as he ventured back towards the city, the stars above the only witnesses to the treachery on that night.