Echoes of Harmony

Thaseas Shadowbrand roared as he brought the axe across the former High King’s throat. Blood sprayed out as he cut through the veins. It coated the blade of his axe. Some splattered against the side of his hand. A thousand droplets spread across the floor.

The lifeless body grew heavy in his hand, but he knew he couldn’t stop there. The Nurathim ritual was very specific. If he did not carry it out exactly, he would not be able to claim his rightful position. Besides, he relished this opportunity. After the coward’s taunting words, who wouldn’t?

He cut again, deeper. Muscle parted as the axe forced its way through. Another whack of the axe. The blade hit bone and sawed through it. A fourth swing. Sinew snapped. More blood dripped to the floor. It echoed in the silence.

He grunted with exertion. It had been many years since he did this. He had forgotten how difficult it was to butcher a carcass. With each chop, he dug deeper into the neck of the dead High King. A surge of exhilaration ran through him. He smiled. It was just like breaking down one of the larongar bred on the station.

Finally, the head of their former High King came loose. Thaseas’ hand jerked upwards with the sudden lack of resistance from the weight of the body. The rest of the corpse hit the ground with a satisfying thud. He looked at the head for a moment. The eyes that once belonged to Arazec were open, unsurprised. His permanent smile, however, was unnerving. Thaseas picked up the former high king’s hammer and slammed it into Arazec’s mouth, shattering the teeth and destroying his jaw. The sight of the mangled head made him laugh.

“This was your High King.” Thaseas brandished the head of Arazec Runeflayer. It swayed roughly as he swung it around. Blood fell to the floor from the neck hole with satisfying plops. Many of the astral lords looked on in something akin to horror. Thaseas was pleased to see those he chose to stand beside him smiled instead. “The dwarf who was supposed to lead us to greatness. To protect us from danger. He couldn’t even protect himself.”

Thaseas tossed the head across the room, smiling as it bounced several times before rolling to a stop at the base of the holoprojector. He reached down and picked up the fallen crown, gently resting it atop his own head. Taking a deep breath, calming his excited nerves, he slowly to the throne. Now was the key moment. The Nurathim made it clear: if any of the other astral lords wished to do so, they could now challenge him regardless of whether they had the required number of backers. If he wished, he could sprint to the throne before one of them had the chance.

But he did not. Thaseas took slow, carefully measured steps towards the throne. Better to not hurry it. Better to have an uncontested rule.

None stepped forward. He knew they wouldn’t. All of them were too cowardly, too weak, too spineless. They couldn’t see true power if it stared them in the face. Thaseas could. He found power wherever it lay, no matter how difficult it may be to reach. And he proved he was willing to do whatever it took as he sat in the throne.

The stone seemed to adjust to his body shape as he sat. He looked over the astral lords, looking each in the eye as they remained standing in their positions. Around the room, the runes still glowed bright red. There was just one more requirement to seal the Nurathim and cement his rise.

“I, Thaseas Shadowbrand, second son of Duromgir Shadowbrand, commander of the Blackswords, champion of the Algar Nebula, declare myself High King of the Druthagar.”

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The runes faded away as he finished the statement, seeming to disappear from the room. Several moments passed. He knew the room was judging him. It did the same to the other three High Kings he saw crowned, though their ascensions were much less bloody and violent. One might even say weaker.

As the seconds ticked by, turning to minutes, a tension filled the air. The only sound in the room was the hum of the holoprojector and ventilation systems. None of the astral lords dared move. They knew it would be folly to even consider it. The room could easily lash out at them, killing them where they stood.

Thaseas closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He didn’t know how long it would take to be judged, and he didn’t care to know. Better for it to be a surprise.

Finally, he felt a surge go through him. A murmur or two went through the astral lords, but he kept his eyes closed. It tingled. It was warm. A warmth unlike any other, as if he would never be cold again. He felt himself lifted into the air, turned this way and that. The room was examining him. Seeing if he was fit to rule. The blood coating his hands and face surely proved he was.

Finally, it released him. He felt the stone throne beneath him return, and he opened his eyes. The runes glowed a deep blue. Acceptance. Of course, he didn’t need the runes to tell him that. Just the fact he was still alive showed he had passed.

Now, he was High King, no matter what anyone else said. The thought brought a smile to his face. A sound of shifting metal and the glimmer of movement around the room as the Oathbound Phalanx kneeled told him all he needed to know.

“As your new High King,” he said, looking over the astral lords who had knelt, “my first command is for the establishment of new factories. We must transcend our mortal bodies. We must improve ourselves through the technology we have grown accustomed to. Only then can we usher in a new, greater age of the Druthagar. Belin Forgebellow, I presume you can arrange the construction of new orbital factories? I will send you the exact specifications.”

“Of course, my king,” Forgebellow replied.

Thaseas frowned at the statement. Though the dwarf acquiesced, the scowl dominating his face showed he desired otherwise. He would have to work on stamping out such disloyalty. This was his kingdom now. His to lose or his to lead to prosperity. It was necessary for them to remember that.

“Very well. Now, let us discuss our new tactics at ridding the galaxy of the Hyperion menace.”

Thaseas wrapped his fingers around the edge of the throne’s arms. With a smile, he leaned back. He could certainly get used to this.

#

Nergal watched with rapt attention as Thaseas Shadowbrand killed his predecessor and cemented his rise to power. Of course, the dwarf wouldn’t have been able to do it alone. Nergal’s aid assured he was able to assume control. Otherwise, Shadowbrand would have failed before he even had a chance to start his revolution. But their goals aligned, and, like Tober Delargivic, the dwarf was willing to listen where others may not. He was, without a doubt, the best choice.

The war council’s discussion into attacking the Hyperion Empire drew little of Nergal’s curiosity. Their plans were their own. He had nothing to do with them. Now, if they would talk more about threading technology into their bodies, Nergal would be interested in that. He had given Shadowbrand the plans to augment themselves. It was the same sort of augments the Arcadians would undergo.

Of course, such adjustments took time. Time Nergal had plenty of. After all, he did not age, he did not tire, and he did not fail. At least, he did not fail in the end. With a long enough timescale, he all but guaranteed his success. That was the disadvantage to flesh bodies. They only had a limited time before they became ineffective. Once they grew old, they needed to be discarded. Nergal did not have to adhere to such wastefulness.

Slowly, the machinations that once resided solely within Nergal’s database were coming to fruition. A little bit longer, and everything would fall into place.

But Nergal was patient. He could wait.

Eventually, all would bow before him.

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