Putting
off going home, Crom took his time on his return home. He spent an entire week in the tavern just
outside his father’s castle getting thoroughly smashed. He sat alone at the bar drinking beer. A few off-duty soldiers walked in and
congratulated Crom on his return home, this meant victory to them, but Crom did
not seem to notice. The soldiers
recognized his mood and decided to keep their distance from their melancholy
prince.
After a while of wallowing in his own self-pity, a
drunkard approached him and slurred out, “Hello stranger, my name is
Farnham. How do you fare on such a
splendid evening?” Crom said nothing and
there was total silence. All eyes were
on the foolish drunk, “Not much for talking, huh? Well, let me tell you something, buddy. I too was once a shy lad like yourself; but
I, listen to me, I , wha? Hey, you look
to be depressed. What’s troubling you,
kind sir? Women! That’s wha.
I can tell by your self
wallowing. Well let me tell you that
there is no better place to go tan here, with a buncha drunks. We need each other because we understand each
o’er. Let me tell you this buddy. . .no
woman is worth torturing yourself.
Right, brothers?”
Dead silence for a brief second seemed like an
eternity, but then the whole room seemed to shout in unison, “Damn women! Damn them to Niflheim!”
Proud of the response that he got the Farnham
continued, “You see, buddy. We are all
brothers here. We understand our
pains. And this is how we soothe
them. Welcome to the family. You can trus’ us because we know you. We will take care of each o’er because that’s
what brothers do.”
That rubbed Crom the wrong way. It hit a sore spot and he said quietly but
quite sternly, “If you do not become mute, I will make you so. Now make haste and leave me be.” And with that, the drunk got up and stumbled
away. He was drunk but he was not a
complete fool. Farnham saw the size and
power in Crom and respected it.
With the drunk making his exit, Valla conveniently
made his entrance and sat next to Crom.
He ordered his ale and ignored the look that Crom gave at him. It burned a hole in him to see his prince
look at him so. Crom was like a nephew
to him. Valla reassured him, “You’ve
succeeded, my lord. You scattered
Ishmael’s followers and the scout’s reports indicate that what remains of the
force that gathered in the mountains has withdrawn. They seem broken. You and your men killed many of the leaders
of the revolution. The rebels are lost
without leaders. They’ve no hope and
they’ll soon realize it. They’ll return
to their families and forget thoughts of sedition. Your victory was complete. So why have you been here the past week
drowning yourself in drink?”
Fighting renegade tears Crom confessed, “I failed,
Valla. The rebels have a man to
follow. Most likely, they’ve simply
pulled back outside of your scouting network in order to regroup. Were I you, I’d expect an organized attack
within the month. Mark my words, they’ll
come after us here.”
Such an attack had not happened since Valla and
Ganesh did so in their own revolution.
Valla could not believe this and asked, “What? But you. . .What man do they follow? How could you know their actions? They would not dare attack us here, behind
the impenetrable. . .”
“Strom.” A
single word said so much. A cold silence
followed for three or four goblets worth of beer. Crom continued, “They follow Strom. And I have come to know my brother better
than I ever have. He desires my death,
and the death of my father. He’ll have
his men attack in force as a diversion.
The real attack will be the assassinations of myself and Ganesh.” Valla briefly digested this information and
mumbled to himself. Crom went on once
again, “Betrayed. Betrayed by my
brother. My own flesh. . . we shared
everything; what was mine was his. I
loved him. He was supposed to love me,
and yet, he betrays me. Where did I go
wrong?”
“Lord Crom, If Strom’s betrayal was complete, how, then, did you
escape his subterranean stronghold with your life?”
“By the grace of the generous Lord Strom. He is, of course, both benevolent and honorable. After he slew each of my men from behind, he
allowed me to escape unscathed. He is
devious, Valla. Never forget that. He always was my superior in tactical
matters. There, his intellect is
unrivaled. He has no equal. There is no knowing his strategy. I can only assume that the death of Ganesh
and myself is an integral part.
Therefore, it is also a safe assumption that he will strike here, at our
hearts.”
How could this be?
Who the hell did Strom think he was?
Valla said loudly, “If he brings troops here, he must not survive the
ordeal. That is your duty, Crom. Though he many have spared your life, you
cannot afford to spare his. He is to be
charged with treason. The penalty is
death. You are to be his executioner.”
“Duty. That’s
all I have. I have to kill my own
brother, out of duty? Because of my duty
to the kingdom, and to the people. I’m
wed to a woman I love as a sister, not as a wife. I can never love a woman because of this
damnable duty, Valla! I had hoped I
would come to love Aparthie, but I cannot.
It sickens me. I can see that she
loves me deeply, yet I cannot return the sentiment. I fear what she would do were she to discover
that her love is unrequited. Duty,
Valla. That’s all I have. Will I never know anything else? May the Gods take your glorious duty,
Valla! To hell with it. Leave me to my miseries for this night. Upon the morrow, I will return to the
military counsels to prepare for the imminent attack, and yes, Valla, I will
carry out this duty as I have carried out all my others. May the gods forgive me for what I have done,
and what I will do in the name of duty.
I’ve brought a pure soul into this house which is bereft of love and
compassion. I’ve brought this woman, so
caring, so loving, to a place where eventually her innocence will be
shattered. I fear what this eventuality
will do to her pure soul. She loves me
as a husband, and Ganesh as a father. I
fear she even loves Strom, though as I do, as a brother. If she were to discover that Ganesh sees her
only as a commoner, and that I love her only as a sister—not a close companion,
it may very well tear her heart asunder.
If only I had been born a commoner, then I might have been able to
return Aparthie’s love. Instead, I know
nothing of the love a man would share with his wife. I know duty.”
Valla had never seen Crom open up like this. For the first time, Valla pitied Crom. He clasped forearms with Crom and hugged
him. Valla left the bar fighting the
same renegade tear that Crom had at the beginning of their conversation. Crom finished the rest of his beer and seemed
defeated. His shoulders were weighted
down by his duties as he trudged out slowly with his head seemingly buried in
the ground. Oh, how he wished he could
be somebody else.
Nobody had noticed Boxt in a dark corner of the
tavern. He had heard everything said
between Crom and Valla. Word gets around
when a prince frequents a tavern for an entire week and Boxt had followed Valla
into the tavern and hid and remained quiet. He left the tavern minutes after Crom and went
to his private quarters in the castle.
He paced back and forth tapping his finger against his chin. In a soliloquy to himself, “By the Gods,
Strom has truly crossed into the realm of madness. To attack directly, to throw his forces
against this fortress, will only lead to numerous, needless deaths. I could infiltrate Strom’s troops and try to
kill him. That would scatter his followers.
. .but I am no match for Strom in battle, and they would never allow me to get
close enough to slip a dagger between his ribs.
If Strom doesn’t die, he will lead thousands of men, fools though they
may be, to their deaths. Surely, I will
be damned to the 9th Hell, but I must see Aparthie die. If she dies, Strom will throw himself upon
his own blade that he may follow close by behind her on her way to
Valhalla. May the Gods and Aparthie
forgive me, but I see no other way. But
I cannot force myself to end her life.
She has found her way into my affections. But if she were to take her own life. . . the
result would be the same and I would not have to push the knife, though in my
soul, I know her blood would still be on my hands. Wolfsbane!
It’s painless. She’ll just go to
sleep and never wake. It will appear she
simply died in her slumber. Unless. . .I
will convince her that she should go to Strom.
That Crom doesn’t lover her, but Strom does. If she can be shown that her place is to be
with my father, then Strom would call the attack off. One way or another, it ends soon.”
###
More Greatest Evil
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