“Citizens of the Republic of Eassia. Presenting your king, Rupert Nojah. The last of the great House Dla’Nod!”
The crowd was silent. Fear and overwhelming hatred were the only two emotions that radiated off the embittered plebeians.
“Good people of the Republic, as you know, measures are being taken to improve the quality of life for all members of this great society. I assure you all that-
“LIAR!”
The voice of an enraged plebe broke the king’s concentration and his hold on the crowd’s attention. He never got it back for, at that very moment, flaming arrows were shot into the sky toward the balcony where the tyrant monarch was standing.
“COVER THE KING!”
Chaos and violence gave way to unrest as a thick fog coated the ground. The citizens attending the royal proclamation rapidly dispersed thus beginning the revolution.
“The only way to permanently remove the repugnant despot is to enact the Shadow Accords,” a voice said from deep within the king’s castle.
“Are you positive that this is the best course of action, Ne’Dib?” Another voice asked in reply. “The Shadows are extremely dangerous and don’t take too kindly to being given orders. Don’t you remember what happened in Rah’znya?”
“Yes, I retain the memory of it all too well. I was a member of the Shadows for a time before laying down my arms to follow the great visionary, Hossein Amabu of House Sorchech. I know how they operate and their particular skill set is what we need to get things done,” he answered. “Send out the alert now, Maryam. In order to actually make a change in the Eassian Republic, we have to get Hossein on the throne!”
“Yes, sir.” Lowly she bowed her head in compliance. “Consider it done.”
A few days had come to pass before the former Shadow’s will became a reality.
“Are they here?” Ne’Dib asked.
“Yes,” Maryam said. “The Shadows are waiting for you in the catacombs of Hyperius, the City of the Dead.”
“Very well.”
Ne’Dib followed his apprentice deep below the Eassian capital to the ancient place. Once there, he saw the ten mercenaries that awaited him. He stepped inside the necropolis, admiring how well it was preserved. He came to be standing in the center of a massive amphitheater behind an altar he used as a podium. It was, in fact, a summoning pedestal that ironically was utilized for more than just calling upon the dead. It was littered with ancient etchings that few knew existed. An arcane tongue from the time when the old ones ruled Ludrion. He took a moment to take in the band of mercenaries, anticipation filling his veins at the realization that his plans were finally coming to fruition.
“Shadows,” he began. “Do you know why you have been summoned to Eassia?”
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
“Do you understand the risks?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you accept this mission?”
“Yes,” the mercenaries replied a final time.
Ne’Dib held his hand out to his apprentice and felt a blade press into his palm. He sliced his wrist and watched the sanguine substance flow from his being. The red fluid began to fill the altar until it started to glow, the blood pact was now complete.
“Let the reckoning begin,” he loudly proclaimed
The shadows bowed lowly before him then shimmered out of sight.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
