Astem tumbled behind a servant's door and up a flight of stairs, pursers close behind.
This stairway would lead to the throne room if he kept going, but instead he dropped down and crawled on his hands and knees through a small tunnel hidden behind a tapestry. This would come out in a storage room on the same floor.
The pursuers rushed past, boots thumping against the cold stone.
His face lit up into a nasty grin. Who do they think they are, challenging him?
The boy waited at the exit of the passageway, listening for any sign of ambush. Results being negative, he slowly pushed aside a wooden crate, making as little noise as possible.
This room was used so little it was filled with dust and cobwebs. Astem brushed them aside, making a mental note that his next order as King would be for some servants to start cleaning the storage rooms.
He arose from the passageway and brushed himself off. His royal mantle was becoming as ragged as the rest of his outfit, now also covered in dust and dirt. As he pulled the cobwebs out of his long black hair, he removed his oversized crown and set it carefully behind a box in the corner.
Murderers and spies, hunting him down like a rat. In his own castle? What idiots.
He clambered up past an old suit of armor and shoved back another crate to reveal another tunnel just as short as the last, but this one widened up into a staircase. The boy entered and replaced the box behind him, but not before removing a curved dagger from a rack on the wall.
Bare feet hit stone as he ran up the passageway.
Traitors and spies will pay the price.
He hummed a little tune as he ran, squeezing through a space between the walls behind the throne room. He finally wormed his way through the passage that came out under his own bed.
There, he could see a man's dark leather boots. Likely an accomplish of the two who had ambushed him in the hallway on the way to his room.
His feet were facing away from the bed, so he was likely guarding both the doorway and the wardrobe, where Astem had first entered the castle's passageways to escape.
No doubt his accomplices were searching the castle for him, trying in vain to deduce from which exit he would emerge.
But where was this man looking? On the wardrobe most likely, but Astem had to be sure.
This was a waiting game, one he had played several of times now.
Suddenly Astem heard footsteps in the passageway. Heavy steps, but leather boots, not armor. It would take another moment for the man to realize, but when he did…
The man started, feet jerking into a standing position. Sharp ears for a scrub. He pulled his sword from his sheath, and as quietly as possible advanced on the wardrobe.
Astem shot out from under the bed and plunged the dagger down into the back of his leg.
The man screamed in pain, swinging his sword around but to no avail. Astem jumped to the side, taking advantage of the man's desperate swing. As he fell, Astem grabbed hold of his head and pulled the knife through his neck.
The crimson liquid sprayed across Astem's room, but he had no time to enjoy the rush.
Someone was still approaching from the passageway.
He softly picked up the tune where he left off, skipping over to the closet from which the footsteps were steadily approaching.
Astem let the tune trail off as he waited behind the door, bloody knife in hand, up and ready to strike
The footsteps stopped behind the door. Was he going to look out first? That might make things a bit more difficult.
“Are you there, your highness?”
The boy’s armed dropped, and the grin fell into a pout. He recognized that voice. “Way to spoil the fun Secht.” He replied, emerging from his position and opening the closet door.
Inside stood the intimidating man clad in all black, he too with blood splatter on his collar, though far less impressive than the Astem.
Secht's eyes searched the room before he stepped out. In his hand was his own sword, an impossibly thin blade with an impressive Calligriphic engraved on the hilt. His other hand held a simple brown sack with an unpleasant smell.
He immediately turned and bowed.
“My apologies your highness. They got further than I anticipated. My men and I eliminated the vermin who were waiting in your throne room," Secht said, sheathing his sword.
“Huh, guess there are none left for me. This one was barely exercise," he sighed. "But didn't you say you'd deal with all this? I remember you saying something about everyone "coming together under me.""
"My apologies, your majesty. It's taking a little more time than anticipated. Some of your relatives and advisors are a little...bitter with the whole situation. But, those who defy you will be made an example of. We already know who was behind today's attack, and they will be dealt with. On that note," Secht smiled, "I brought you something you'll want to see."
He held out the bag he'd carried in with him, and Astem accepted it. It was a little heavier than he expected but he plopped down on his bead and untied the cord holding it shut.
A nasty grin appeared on his face.
Without hesitation, he reached into the bag and pulled out a severed head.
"Heh, you got him!" Astem snickered. "That was fast!"
Astem's uncle and him shared several similar features. Their hair and skin were the same shade, and their eyes were similar colours, but while Achrom's right eye was yellow and his left red, Astem's were a gradient of the two, red going to yellow.
Achrom's face was bloody and battle-scarred, and Astem wished he could have been the one to do the deed.
It would have been quite a fight, though Astem was confident he would have come out on top.
"Wait, what about Artlem?" He said, remembering other half of Secht's mission.
"My apologies your majesty, it appears he wasn't at the Kavalix's camp at the time. But not to worry, our scouts and spies are searching as we speak, with orders to kill on sight. When they find him, and they will, they will bring the same proof as they did of Achrom. My men, your majesty, are not like those bumbling idiots who attacked you. My men," Secht said with a note of pride, "are thorough."
"Fine then, guess it'll have to do." Astem lay back onto the bed holding Achrom's head above him. "What kind of idiot would give up the crown." Astem thought aloud.
Secht bowed and turned to leave. "I'll send someone to clean up the mess, your Majesty."
Astem gave an absent-minded wave as Secht left.
Now all that was left was this idiot's son. Astem had never met Artlem, but had heard that they also had similar appearances. He was supposed to be good friends with one of Astem's female siblings, or was it cousins?
Either way, what mattered was that his head would make a great trophy, right next to that of his father.
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