About 15 years passed since the
private announcement of Crom as the heir to the throne of Ganesh. Word spread through the streets of
Scandinavia rapidly and it was generally accepted as more than just rumor. The reception of this decree was even more
welcomed with open arms because it was accompanied with the prospects of the
future king being wed to a common woman.
Strom accepted this; he thought that perhaps Crom would keep Aparthie
happy. He himself was not happy
though. He was wed to Necessity and had
two young boys, Boxt and Heti, but he would leave them behind for a chance to
be with his Aparthie, he never got over the loss of his one true obsession. Time could not erase his desire, but he loved
her enough to let her go.
Strom
had accumulated a vast amount of wealth by keeping Vito’s medical practice open
a few days of the week and by raiding the cave that the Sword of Omens had been
in. He had stolen a great amount of
jewels. Strom had become addicted to
beer. Strom valued this precious drink
as much as money. Rare was the night
that Strom would come home without the foul stench of alcohol clinging to his
breath. Necessity was sincerely worried
about this and her heart crushed. For
years, she watched her husband come home intoxicated and lately she had
gathered the courage to speak up. This
particular night, Strom came home late as usual. Necessity walked in from the adjoining room
crying. Seeing this annoyed Strom
greatly, “What is the matter now, woman?”
“That
is,” she replied crestfallen gesturing to a jar of beer pasted in Strom’s hand,
“All you ever do is drink. Do you care
not for your children? You do not set an
admirable example for them. ‘Tis a shame
too, since Heti looks up to you so.”
Strom
was never one to take criticism well, “Quiet!
I will not tolerate insubordinance.
Would it be that there be happiness in my own home!”
“Why
must you drown your sorrows in a thoughtless manner? Is it my fault? Is there not happiness in our home? The house is large, you have a wife that
loves you and is affectionate toward you, and you have two sons that obey their
father. What more could you want?”
Reflecting
on his life, Strom said solemnly, “You know what, Necessity? I have done serious soul searching, and have
found nothing. Nothing but a cold, dark,
damp pit in my stomach. The truth is
hard to swallow woman. Wine and beer
lubricates my throat and makes it easier to live with. That is why I drink so much, to hide the
truth. You do not know me. There are many things that I lust for,
woman. What they are is none of your
concern this moment. What your concern
is now is getting me a steak, woman.
Now, run along.”
The
steady flow of tears running down her cheek increased rapidly as if a damn had
collapsed. Necessity mustered up the
strength to get out, “What is this truth that you speak of? What is it that you are hiding?”
“I
would rather not delve into that subject right now, woman! You do no need to
know” and that was true. Perhaps it was
truer that he did not want to share his secrets with himself. He had hidden from it for so long. A mighty sword that could make his father
into a king so mighty he would be the King of Kings. The son that will not share its whereabouts
with him. His love for his sister. His secret life of royalty. The death of the good doctor Vito. The pain that it would bring back would be
too intense for him to handle, let alone his innocent wife.
Young
Boxt, the older of Strom’s two children was quietly listening in the other
room. He had never heard his mother and
father quarrel. Boxt had grown
accustomed to his father’s drunkenness; in fact, he had always made it a point
to shelter his brother Heti from witnessing his father in such a state. This would explain why Heti looked up to
Strom as much as he did. The children
had never met their grandfather and Necessity had no siblings so Strom was
their only male relative. Boxt never
thought of his roots beyond his parents, but then Necessity said to Strom, “If
only my father were a more healthy man while alive. Would be it that he was present to save me
from such a wicked man that keeps secrets from his wife and asks only for a
bottle as a companion.”
That
statement cut too deep for Strom. It had
opened up wounds long since healed.
These wounds were not forgotten, they had left scars that Strom always
tried to hide. Strom was fed up and
responded with, “You want to know one of my secrets? One that I have not uttered to a soul? Your father’s heart was fine. He did not die of a faltering heart, but
rather of my hands as they denied his quivering body air. But I had no choice. He found out about us, about one of my
secrets. He knew who I was. He knew who I really am.”
Necessity’s
sorrow quickly gave way to anger, “How could you have killed the father of the
woman you love? A kind gentleman was
he.”
“The
woman I love? I know not her father, for
Aparthie, fair maid of the king’s court, wife of Crom, is an orphan. Rather, I killed the father of a woman with
whom I deposited my seed. Seed that
would help me lead a successful life as a commoner. With a family, I can blend in. Alone as a bachelor, I draw attention. No, I have never loved you, or the rodents
you affectionately call Boxt and Heti. I
am just waiting. Waiting for a second
chance at Aparthie.” Strom was stunned
at what he had just said. It had
honestly been his plan to leave Aparthie and Crom be. To try and move on with his life. Perhaps, subconsciously he never intended to
do so, but to bide his time until the perfect opportunity.
Necessity
was shaken at this confession. She had
loved Strom and she thought the love was mutual. Necessity was a strong woman though, “That
chance will never come, as I will see to it that you are punished for your
transgressions, your crimes.”
Not
impressed by her threat, Strom lifted her off the ground by her throat and
said, “Oh, really? I think that you will
take this secret to the grave with you.
Seems that on your way to fetch a pale of water, you slipped and
fell.” Necessity screamed and struggled
in vein as Strom slammed her repeatedly on the ground. Unaware that Boxt was nearby Strom finished
the job.
Boxt cried to
himself as he walked quickly to his room.
He was too afraid to assist his mother.
He mumbled to himself, “That bastard.
That motherless, conniving bastard.
If only there was a way to avenge my mother, and her father. The grandfather I was never allowed to
know. What love, what happiness has been
denied to me by the actions of that murderous beast? Proper vengeance would be granted if he were
to lose someone he loved, but he cares for nothing in this world. He is jealous and envious of his only
brother. He despises his father. He cares nothing for his sons, nor did he
love his late wife. He loves no one. . .
Aparthie. He lusts for Aparthie. She is the only thing that keeps him here in
this world. If Aparthie were to perish,
he would know such indescribable anguish.
But my hands must be clean. It
must appear to be a natural death, or Strom will surely seek vengeance. This deed must not appear to have been
carried out by the hands of any man. I
will go to the House of Ganesh and Crom, and see this carried out. Would that there was a way to mete out
justice to Strom, without taking an innocent life. This will surely weigh heavy upon my
heart. Perhaps in the house of my uncle,
I will find a more peaceful solution.”
He was more like his father than he realized.
###
More Greatest Evil
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