Chapter 3b: Exile or Execution?

 

“A deal?” Victor whispered with confusion, eyeing the card held out to him by the humanoid shadow.

“Why yes, Mr. Fierce,” Prometheus said, dragging out the end of Victor's name like a devil eager to steal his soul. “A deal. Quid pro Quo, a trade.”

Victor eyed the guards frozen in place, his brow furrowing at the display of overwhelming might. 

Is it a stasis skill? Spacial? Or… time? Is there anyone in the empire that can use time magic? Victor wondered, observing the praetorians that bore no signs of life. The palace guards weren't pushovers; they were elite soldiers, men drafted from noble families sworn to the crown who had proven their worth in countless battles. Even at the height of his strength, Victor would be hard pressed in dealing with the elite guards.

Yet this man… 

Victor dry swallowed, his attention fully on the being before him whose formless face seemed to be smirking at him.

“And… what is it you're offering?” Victor asked cautiously, making sure that his words were slow and deliberate in case he was dealing with some kind of wishmonger.

“Survival. And where you’re going, I thinkzzz you’ll need all the tools that you can muster.”

“But what do you get out of this?” Victor asked, eyeing the oblique card being twirled between the fingers of the shadow’s hand. 

“Life. Experience. Amendments. Atonements,” Prometheus said, his voice like a whisper that bounced around Victor. “If I told you that I was the progenitor of your empire, that I alone am solely to blame for Fierce's Rise, what would you make of that?”

“I’d say that's a pretty bold claim,” Victor replied, the silhouette of the being gone yet his presence felt in the air as though he were leaning over his shoulder. “And I'd be inclined to believe you were lying…”

“But?”

“But you wouldn't be locked in the royal prison if you weren't wanted for something heinous or for offending my father,” Victor reasoned. “Now the question is, was it a cool crime or did you just break many of the empire's archaic rules?”

A sound akin to a chortle bounced from wall to wall of the drab grey cells.

“Seeing as you've read my books, played my games, and were imprisoned for following the same path I chose, I'll leave it to you to determine what crime I committed,” Prometheus chuckled as the book beneath Victor's arms suddenly vanished. “But I have a feeling we're very similar you and I, hohoho.”

“Hey!” Victor shouted, eyes wide, mouth agape and reaching for his book.

“Relax, you'll get it back,” Prometheus promised, his voice shifting octane. “That is of course, if you accept my deal.”

Victor grit his teeth and glanced at the two high level guards frozen in place.

Just. Play it cool V.

“So… what are you offering? And what do you want?” Victor asked, his eyes attempting to lock onto the shadow at the corner of his peripheral that refused to be seen.

“Your system has been purged has it not? The so-called blessings from your Emperor?” The silhouette reemerged behind the iron cell with a shadowy arm holding out a card oozing with shadows. “What I offer is a choice, one free from the suffocating grip of your father. And all I require is a better future for all. By taking this card, you can break free from the system used to shackle and oppress.”

“Tantalizing words, but I'm not sure how a card is going to fix the empire.”

“Then why not find out? After all, you have nothing else to lose right?” The shadow said, leaving Victor to ponder what was offered.

Screwed if I do. Screwed if I don't… Seeing as they've kept me alive this long, they'll probably exile me to a frontier colony… and if I get there without any skills…

Despite his best judgement, Victor exhaled before taking the hard plastic-like square with an immediate sensation of warmth spreading from his fingertips to take root in his chest.

“You've chosen well, Mr. Fierce.”

Victor’s brow furrowed, observing the card with a purplish outline flanking a dark figure brandishing a visibly white wicked smile from amidst the shadows.

 

[Card XIII: Prometheus LvL 1]

Primary Effect:

+5 To All Stats.

+Skill: Stasis LvL 1 [Utilize the Power of The Highest Echelon to momentarily Bind a Target in Time for [2] Seconds.] [20]MP: Cooldown 5 Seconds

Secondary Effect:

+3 To All Stats.

Victor flinched, the wall of floating green text in his vision catching him off guard as the card suddenly disappeared from his fingers and renewed vigor filled his body.

“Move!”

Victor blinked, immediately turning towards the Praetorians who behaved as though nothing had happened. The two men pressed onward, shoving Victor forward, with the latter stumbling and nearly falling flat on the floor.

“Y-” Victor began, only to stop as his vision flooded with a new interface that was similar yet different. “What is this…”

[System Override]

Override?

“Eyes front!” The Praetorian ordered, coaxing Victor forward, whose gaze shifted towards the nearby empty cell where Prometheus should have been.

 

****

 

After being marched through winding corridors of white stone and marble, Victor was eventually shoved into a side chamber that stunk with the air of imperial officials.

Immediately upon his boots touching the velvety red carpet, Victor rolled his eyes with a sigh. 

“Oh, lovely, you can't make my wedding but you'll show up for my execution huh?” Victor scoffed at the figure in white and gold lazing in the fine wood high chair usually reserved for magistrates of Imperial Law.

Or, in this case, the Twentieth Prince of Apheriam and Victor's older half-brother. Swaythe in white linens and gold accessories that matched his flowing hair, the edges of Jesta Fierce’s eyes crinkled at Victor's remark. He was unnaturally porcelain, a scrawny effeminate man whose vanity was only surpassed by his ego. 

Jesta broke out into a smile, his gaze not hiding the ill intent reflected in the eyes of the depowered and rough looking Victor.

“Silence!” One of the Praetorians at Victor's back spat, hitting him on the back of the head and dropping him to his knees. “You will speak when spoken to.”

“Now now, there's no need to be violent, Praetorian, Victor may be a disappointment but he's still my baby brother,” Jesta Fierce said, the scrawny blonde’s voice akin to melted butter dripping from a hot knife as his icy blue eyes locked onto the now depowered Victor.

“I didn't realize you cared so much,” Victor replied nonchalantly as he scanned the empty pews where a jury should have been.

But a jury wasn't needed when the Emperor's word was involved.

“Nonsense! It wounds my heart that you would think so little of me!” Jesta said, rising to his feet with a feign hurt expression. “You and I may have never seen eye to eye, but I truly do still think of you as my blood!”

Said the man presiding over my sentence with a smile. Victor wanted to reply but kept silent.

“Oh? Have my words caught your tongue dear baby brother?” Jesta cooed. “Come, approach the bench, let me get a good look at you.”

“Read my sentence and let's be done with it,” Victor replied as he stepped forward with the aid of the Praetorians only to stop as his system opened unprompted at the edge of his peripheral.

[System Rebooting…]

Reboot? The system can do that? Victor said to himself, attempting to split his attention between his brother's rambling and whatever Prometheus had done to him.

“My, what's the sport in that? Though I suppose I should have known you were a dullard when you chose to sully the sanctity of the golden throne by throwing in your lot with furries and lizards. Tsk tsk,” Jesta sighed, the effeminate man taking on a sorrowful look. “And publicly too, if it were me, I'd have killed myself to save the throne from the shame of such actions.”

“Well, a racist like you wouldn't understand.”

“Oh, I resent the accusation dear Victor!” Jesta said, clutching his chest as if Victor had shot him in the heart. Then the man brandished an irritating smirk that reached his eyes. “For how can I be racist to farm equipment?”

“Right…” Victor muttered half heartedly. “Can we skip to the point where you kill me already?”

“No no, no need to be dramatic, there'll be no spilling of royal blood, on the contrary. Father still believes you can be of service to the imperium, even as you are,” Jesta said, revealing a gilded scroll with the red official seal of the Emperor. “Prepare to Receive His Imperial Decree. Victor Fierce, in pursuit of your crimes, you have been stripped of your position as a royal prince. All possessions and property are now remanded to the imperium. Any rank you may hold within the Imperial Guard is now void and your accounts seized. As of this day, June Twenty-third, of the year Four Hundred AU, you are hereby appointed regent to the Frontier Colony of Dresul where you will serve and toil for the remainder of your sentence.”

Exile as I expected. 

Victor grimaced, he had heard of Dresul, all royals had. It was the city furthest from the imperial capital and the furthest within the dark lands surrounded on all sides by foulspawn. Founded by a doomed expedition to drive back the monsters of the dark, Dresul had become a dying city with little in the way of self sustainability. In a way, it was an oversized penal colony, with those sent there to serve as a sacrificial bulwark against the foulspawn.

 

“Dresul, huh? An execution disguised as exile,” Victor smirked, his expression catching Jesta off guard. “Perfect.”

Dresul just so happened to also be the city with one of the largest demi-human populations.