Odinson Saga: Book 1 - The Throne

Turmoil and Treachery (2nd Arc / Chapter 11)

Uneasy. Really, uneasiness has been the only sort of sentiment in the realm. As even with the support of armies, legions even. Although, no word has been said from the royal family, the people's faith in the Royal Battalion has never been more profound. However, not all people of Kasgard share the same faith, especially those who sit above the people, but below the King.

Beyond the coast of Kasgard, lays the political capital, Wolfram Castle. The one place that some say holds the entire realm together. A dominant forest with pillars as tall as giants and although giants, in legend, are truly majestic creatures what is done within that castle is anything but. With most if not all of it happening in what they called the war room. However, whereas with other war rooms, they discuss somberly how to proceed into battle. All anyone, who lives in the lower city, can hear is either moans of relief or shrieks of violence.

Walking to the chamber, on this brooding night, was a scarlett haired woman wearing velvet robes, who wasn't as old as an elder but not as young as a maiden, maybe 40 and 3 in age. As she reached the door, the guards who recognized her, as a royal lady still cast their eyes upon her with disgust. As she entered the war room, all she heard was the crude jokes of the chancellor to his confidantes.

One humorous jabs, at least the one she heard in full was,

"Well then, if you don't want the bear to crawl at you, then how's about you take the spear out his arse". Most likely recounting one of his brutal and gruesome hunting trips, for which he gained no glory, only staying as a witness to someone.

Just then, the lady more commonly referred to as Alys spoke "Sirs, if I may have a word with the chancellor". Despite her seriousness, the two older, heavier set men snickered, as judging by how much is revealed by her gown. Assumed her being here, was not cheap. They both left, in doing so left her with disturbing glances.

"What is it, Alys". The chancellor spoke with already declining interest.

"My lord..".

"Alys.. please cut with the titles.. you know me to well and I've seen to much of you, for there to be any sort of respect between us".

Well then, Fryian .. if I may object to pushing forward in ending this war with Odinslayer".

"What about it". Fryian, a 70 year old man, solid but tall with grey hair and baggy royal clothing. Spoke bored as he poured a glass of rum.

Frustated by his lack of attention to her, Alys doing what he always ask of her when they meet, strips and lets her gown fall off her body and onto the floor, finally fully gaining his attention.

Alys spoke "You know as well as I do, that this war is the only things makes US grow richer, with this war. We can take a greater percentage of wealth than royals.. gods above know that they don't deserve it".

Fryian speaks shocked, "So not only do you question me but the royals as well. You think because you spend hours in this stronghold, you think you know more".

"It certainly seems that way".

Enraged, Fryian pushed her back against the wall. Although, unintentionally, feeling the sensual air between them. "Don't forget where you came from and where I could send you back".

"Believe me I won't, neither will I forget your plan for the war, if you so chose to tell me".

Still standing against the wall, pressed on top of her.
"It's truly simple whatever how many shekels we lose cleaning this mess up, will be how much their head costs.. if they can't readjust to society or simply follow our orders blindly then the most brutal filth will hunt them down and kill them. Say for instance, that Odinson boy and his father, there whole bloodline shares a rebellious spark and if they still happen to find a problem with our laws. Then, there own swords will be through their skulls.. say at the prices of 10 thousand each".

"I see.. I understand, that could be one of most effective ways of silencing a revolution I've ever heard.. your starting to sound like your old self every passing day". She spoke with resentment as he pulled on her hair with as a response to his insulted pride, then forcing her sensually onto the table.

From the street level, it sounded like he took her right then and there. However, as war tensions brewed, many could not tell what the reason for the sensual, but excited moans were for. Were they anxious for the war to end or excited for the chance to plot out the latest scheme.

Only time and the grace of the gods would tell.