Eros

The Red Reaper - 34

"Is it a good time, my king?" James said, bowing at the open doorway of the king's study.

"James," Roxwell acknowledged him before he raised his eyes from the parchment he read. "It is, come in."

Roxwell gestured at the armchair at the opposite side of the bulky, wooden desk. James lowered his head in gratitude, entered the room and closed the door behind him. The plates of his armor clinked gently as he fitted himself in the seat.

"A word from our agents in the Syndicate arrived." James said.

"Ah, how fares our favorite prince?" Roxwell leaned his elbows on the desk, his fingertips tapping against one another rhythmically.

"More homicidal than ever, I am afraid." James frowned. "Felor, the agent to climb the highest up the Syndicate's ranks, was thrown off the Black Tower the other day."

Roxwell's face darkened. James spoke on.

"Our agents searched his corpse for signs of torture. You can imagine at what state a fall of fifteen floors had left it, but they managed to confirm his ear was missing."

"So everything he knew, now the Black Prince knows." Roxwell concluded. James nodded.

"You know that our agents had been trained to withstand torture, but when it comes to the Black Prince... Let's say I am not betting in their favor."

"Was he aware of the other agents in the Syndicate?" Roxwell asked.

"Two of the three," James answered. "I suggest we have them return home as soon as possible."

"Have it done." Roxwell said. "And make contact with the third, he is to flee from the safe house until reinforcements arrive."

"Reinforcements?" James voiced his interest. "Who do you have in mind, my king?"

Roxwell's fingers ceased their tapping, his palms firmly pressing together. "Sebastian Silverwood."

James blinked in surprise. "Are you certain Sebastian is the right choice for this task, my king? I consider the man a friend, but not only is he a wreck nowadays, when it comes to the Black Prince... he is as personally involved as it gets."

"Now that, James," Roxwell smiled beneath his russet mustache. "Is exactly what makes him the most suitable man for the task."

James's eyebrow perked. "More suitable than a Paladin of a stable mind state, my king?"

"But of course."

"How so, if I may ask?"

"Dealing with the Black Prince had proved problematic because we simply could not foresee what a low and twisted path the man will take to get what he desires. As loyal as my Paladins may be, I wish not to have any of them face the variety of moral dilemmas the prince is fond of abusing. I need a man who has no family or loved ones that may be taken hostage, nor be swayed by a carriage of gold for even a second. I need a man who has experienced the way of the Black Prince before. A man who had lost everything, and remained with naught by burning hatred."

"I withdraw all doubts then," James grinned without humor. "The man you're looking for is Sebastian Silverwood."

-

Raul fluttered his raised hand's fingertips, holding the shroud of flames on the elf's bare feet. Whenever a stray flame licked up his untouched foot, it was bent and leashed back to feast with the rest. The elf dangled from the ceiling by iron chains, screaming and kicking. He could keep kicking until his legs fell off, the flames wouldn't leave unless Raul let them.