King Castor deftly deflected the wooden sword his son swung at him and gave him a tap on the rear.

  “Pretty good, but you need to keep your guard up and watch your footing,” He said with a smile.

  “Won’t I have enough Titles and Deeds that I can just beat up everybody anyway?” He asked petulantly, “Why am I doing this?”

  Castor twirled his sword around before swinging it downward with so much force that the wood of it audibly strained. “You can’t rely on just titles and deeds alone. An opponent close enough to your strength will be able to overwhelm your titles with skill if you aren’t properly prepared. Besides, you need to be able to show the men under your command that you can do the same work that they do. My dad taught me that. Though what he was talking about had a lot less to do with swordplay.”

  “Grandfather or grandpa?” He asked.

  “The one you’re named after Mikhail. Or at least, as closely as I could manage,” replied Castor. The former king was his father in name only. He wasn’t sure that he hated the man. He understood his motives, but he certainly held no fondness in his heart for him. Definitely not enough to give one of his children his name. The only way he’d managed to summon a few appropriate tears for his funeral was by thinking of his real parents dying back on Earth. Luckily, as long as time didn’t distort between worlds, he estimated that they had plenty of their golden years left to them. A small comfort, but one he was glad he could enjoy. “Alright, one more round and we’ll take a break okay?”

  Mikhail sighed, but raised his sword and took his stance.

  Castor looked at him for a moment. He knew they weren’t tied by genetics, but it always amazed him how much of himself he saw in him. The way he set his shoulders, or sighed, or clenched his jaw when he was upset. He even saw pieces of his parents in him, even though they were a world away. He often wondered if there was a bit of the soul in them, impacting them just as much as DNA. Whatever the case was, he was glad to see it.

  They had another short clash and this time Mikhail managed several parries, though he was eventually disarmed. It was solid work for a nine year old.

  “Good job,” came a voice from behind them both.

  Castor smiled as he looked back and saw his queen. She was statuesque with high cheekbones and long dark hair that fell down her back. She smiled at Mikhail as he ran up to her and hugged her legs. She patted him on the back.

  “Why don’t you go to the kitchen? I had them make you some of those vanilla cookies you like. Your sister is already there.”

  Mikhail smiled and started to run, before turning to look at his father.

  “Go ahead, son. We were done anyway.”

  He smiled and ran off.

  Castor waited until Mikhail was out of view to drop his smile as he approached his wife. “She called for me I’m guessing?” he asked.

  “Yes. Her and that… thing that stays with her.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry you have to deal with her, Yuna.”

  “It’s fine. It’s less painful for me than it is for you. She can’t simply burn me into obedience. Besides, I need to be here with the children.”

  “She doesn’t even need the brand while she has them. She knows I’d never put them in danger.”

  “She wouldn’t harm them. She loves them. She truly considers them her grandchildren. I mean, they are by blood.”

  “She’s always been willing to hurt things she loves. It’s one of her strengths.” He began to walk past her when she stopped him.

  “Gabriel.”

  He turned to look at her and she kissed him. He kissed her back, placing his hands on the small of her back for a moment before reluctantly pulling away. “I’ll see you and the children for dinner. Even if I have to struggle with the brand the entire time.”

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  She squeezed his hand and let go.

  He walked through the halls of the palace, toward the throne room. He smiled at guards and servants as he went. He always acknowledged them, even if it surprised many of them when he did so.

  Eventually he reached the throne room, where two guards in full armor pushed open the doors and bowed as he entered. He took things in as they closed them behind him.

  This wasn’t the main throne room in the palace of course. Though in his view it might as well be. He ruled the kingdom, and did so quite well in his opinion, but all of the real power, the power over him, lived within this room. The Queen Dowager sat on a black throne, looking every bit the evil queen on a pulp fantasy novel cover. She wore a black dress, in eternal mourning for her husband, along with simple silver jewelry. Her hair had gone white over the years, but she was still beautiful for her age. Gabriel could see all the similarities between their faces just by looking at her. They used to make him sick to notice, but now that his children shared them he’d had an easier time acknowledging them.

  Standing at her right was the creature. That disgusting insectoid thing from beyond even this world. It went by Sylus, but its true name was some kind of buzzing and clicking sound that made Gabriel want to go outside and start pulling wings off of flies. It looked human to those unaware of what to look for. It seemed to be a gray haired senior advisor with long legs and piercing green eyes. He could see the wrongness of it though. The hairs on his head were too thick, and segmented like antennae. His hands looked as if they had scars on them, but they were really breaks in his carapace, and his green eyes were made up of hundreds of small collared hexagons that those with powerful enough concentration or awareness titles could discern. The most horrifying thing, which only he could see, was the seams that ran down from the sides of his mouth and down his neck, showing just how far his mouth could open if he wanted it to.

  Gabriel walked a few steps forward, altering his walk and manner back into his persona as King Castor as he did so. He bowed deeply to the throne and then straightened himself up.

  “You’ve done well son,” she said and he was disgusted with himself for the pride that swelled in his chest at hearing those words. “Cantalia is part of Burndan and the path to Swandia is clear.” She smiled as she looked to Sylus next to her. “Our friends were surprised at our success.”

  “Cantalia would have been a good place for many of our young, but we have an entire planet of swamps that works just as well,” said Sylus in a voice that vibrated the room unnaturally in a way Castor could only just discern.

  “Perhaps we can work out some kind of arrangement in that regard once your people are fully through.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Castor couldn’t help himself. He smiled a bit at their back and forth.

  “Is there something amusing?”

  “Just your sureness that they’ll make it through. From what I understand they’ve had quite a few setbacks this last month. I don’t know that their victory is as assured as you believe mother.”

  Castor made sure to receive updates at least twice a day on major news from across the kingdoms. He’d been surprised at Hume holding its city. Surprised and impressed.

  The queen dowager tapped her fingers against the arm of her throne and Castor felt scalding mind numbing pain spread from his brand. He stayed standing for the full minute that she let it run even as sweat began to gather on his brow and his consciousness began to succumb to it.

  The Queen turned to Sylus. “How are things going with your side of things?”

  “There was a setback, but it is temporary. There are always unexpected factors when conquering worlds. Something you and your son shall learn as our alliance deepens and you help us with any new worlds we reach.”

  She looked distantly for a few moments, as if imagining the sweetness of conquering new worlds. She looked at Sylus.

  “Leave me for a few moments to speak with the King alone.”

  Sylus bowed, his body not quite bending where a human’s should, then walked out into the hall. The door closed behind him.

  “How many times must I reinforce this lesson,” she said, standing up from her throne and activating the brand again.

  Castor stayed standing, clenching his jaw.

  “I don’t like collaborating with them any more than you do, but it is necessary. It is what we need to do in order for Burndan to survive. In order for some piece of this world to remain wholly itself.” She increased the intensity of the brand and finally Castor fell to his knees. “You have done well. Better than my King and I could’ve ever expected. You are already one of the greatest rulers of this world, and soon you will be its only ruler.”

  “Only or last?” he asked through clenched teeth. It seemed he was feeling particularly defiant today. He never wondered where Mikhail got his petulance. “They have no reason to follow through with their deal when they arrive. All we’re doing is weakening potential threats to them.”

  “Their actions already showed their willingness to follow through with their bargains.” She shook her head and dismissed the brand.

  King Castor felt the tension drain from his body as the pain receded. He’d broken the stone beneath his knees when he’d fallen.

  “You will return to the front next week. We must ensure Swandia comes under our control. It’s the only way to ensure they survive.” She paused and looked at him. “Understood?”

  “Understood,” he replied.

  “Good. Fix this then you may leave.” She walked out of the throne room and left him alone.

  Castor waved a hand, summoning powerful magics and re-set the stone beneath him until it was smooth and perfect again. Then he placed a hand on the back of his neck. He knew there was a way around it now. Even if his hail Mary pass didn’t work out, he’d find another way if he needed to. His freedom was inevitable, and once he was truly unleashed, he’d be unstoppable. Then he’d tear the wings from that disgusting insect and bury it alive in concrete.

  PATREON with a very special meeting to take place next week over there...