The Phoenix and the Serpent

 

                Albion was a beautiful, most magnificent land, but in its bountiful hills, snowy peaks, and majority of simpleton citizens, Albion held darkness and secrets. Wild creatures, most of them violent, prowled in the night and in the darkest of Albion’s corners. However in King Logan’s opinion, and most earnest wish, Reaver’s Industry should have been one of Albion’s secrets, held in the darkest corners. He wished it would go to the Hobbes. Part of it did at least. When this thought crossed Logan’s tired mind he didn’t smirk, but an equally tired, joyless laugh crossed his mind.

                The King of Albion paced slowly in his War Room, rolling the amber liquid in his glass lazily, a personally meditative motion. His eyes however focused at the center of his pacing, his detailed, polished and practical map of Albion, including the potential Aurora. His dark, sunken eyes flicked back and forth on the map, the forest southwest of the Dwellers was what those sharp eyes kept flicking back to. He sighed and placed both hands on the rim of his map. His shoulder’s hunched and his head down he sighed and looked back to that dark green patch. Why Reaver would want Logan to put forces there, infuriated him. The fact that Reaver himself was down there, surprised the King. Reaver was a physically clean man, why he would get himself in the cold muck of those damp forests was beyond him. He didn’t care, but Reaver wanted him to. King Logan knew Reaver was pulling at his strings and he had to comply. What if Reaver was right?

                Using the arguments, “They will be the most potent supporter your sister could ever gain.” And “Stopping them is the most logical move Sire, they will not aid you, they have the power to become a major thorn in your side.” How King Logan hated the way Reaver said ‘Sire’.

                Reaver was always right, even if he was wrong. It was wrong for child labor, it was wrong to treat his people the way he did, but in the long run they would thank Logan. They would realize what was really at stake, and they would understand why their King had to entrust the economy to such a vile man. Once this was done their King’s first act would be to end that disgusting man’s life. He would end Reaver’s supply of sacrifices, then his allies, and then he would kill that man himself.

                King Logan straightens himself and takes a polite gulp of his whiskey. He analyzes the figurines that represented his men by the hundred. Two lay in Millfield, one lay between Millfield and Silverpine, and one lay between the Dweller Camp and Driftwood. He figures that Reaver will be able to have fifty men to his east, fifty to his south, and fifty to his west. The hundred men stationed around Mistpeak and Brightwall would be reinforcement if need be. Satisfied Logan called for his scribe, telling him to write a letter to Reaver of the two hundred and fifty men positioned around him, and if he should really need them, all he had to do was seek them out himself.

                Pleased  with the amount of attention he had given Reaver’s request, King Logan focused on the progress his sister had made.