In the Name of the Emperor

This chapter contains mention of carnage/gore. You have been warned.

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Upon reaching the first floor of the castle, in which the throne room was located, Jenavive had to throw herself against a wall to keep from being trampled by a regiment of palace soldiers. When they were out of the way, she continued running. She didn't know what was going on but she knew she needed to find her father and the King.



The doors to the throne room were wide open but being shut quickly by other soldiers. The doors were littered with holes, ones very like the ones that littered the Ferreshan soldier's body. There were even scorch marks around the ones on the doors. Jenavive ran into the throne room and started coughing. Her father turned and ran to her. For the first time in her life, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to his chest. If she wasn't already on edge about what was happening around her, she would have been with the hug.



"Jenavive! Thank the Gods above--I thought you were dead child mine!"



"I was just sleeping father."



"The came in the night. Come now, you must hide!" He let her go and stood up. She frowned.



"But I can help you."



"Jenavive." she turned to the sound of the King's voice. he bent down and pulled her small body against his fully armored one. if her father had hugged her tightly, Andrus did so even tighter. "Child, you must hide. Please do not fight me. Get behind my throne and don't move a muscle."



"I can hide behind you! You won't let anything happen to me!" The seriousness in her voice and on her face made him smile, even when his heart was falling.



"No one would dare harm you. They will have to deal with me if they do." He pulled back a little and a sad smile touched his face. Jenavive did not want to see that look. She reached out and grasped his face, shaking his head a little.



"We are going to get through this Andrus. Nothing will ever part us. I'm going to marry you when I get bigger, remember?" Tears sprang to the great King's eyes. Not once had she ever seen this man cry nor look as terribly heartbroken and sad as he did in those moments. The tears spilled down her tiny fingers as he grabbed her shoulders and nodded.



"Of course you are my child. And a grand wedding indeed." He stood and she took her rightful place behind his left leg. Being as the man was so damn big, he was a living shield of...muscle. It would take a whole army to get passed him. As he was so big, he presented the perfect hiding place for an eight year old child. When the doors shut, she cried out.



"Verrun is out there!"



"I'm sure he's fine, monkey. He is as speedy as you after all." Jena turned to see Maricce coming up beside his father. He too had tears in his eyes. What was up with all of these men crying? Was she more manly than the rest of them or something? Walking the two steps to the Prince, Jenavive tugged him down to her smaller height.



"Do not die on me Maricce. Who will I antagonize if you do?"



"No worries you little imp." He ruffled her hair. "Now get behind your royal guard. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of that sword." She turned to look at the King and finally looked at him. From neck down the King was in his golden full scale armor, the helmet held under his right arm. The armor itself was a magnificent work of art. Custom forged to fit tightly over his muscles and define them, it allowed him a wider range of mobility where regular full plate did not. His left and right pauldrons provided extra cover where they met over his heart. Each gauntlet was thick scales over plates and the same went for his leg armor. He was protected all around with not a single weak spot, even where the armor was snapped and tied together.



When he donned his helmet, Jenavive saw him for the second time in her life, in all of his glory. While the front of his armor was detailed with a double headed eagle, his helmet held the shape of an eagle. Real feathers adorned the sides of the helmet, a visor covering his eyes from liquids, weapons and hands if they should chose to try and blind him. The "beak" of the eagle came to a point over his nose and allowed his nose protection so it could not be shoved into his brain by a hit to the face. Andrus held out his right hand, now that it was free from it's burden, and a sword, almost as big as he was tall and wider than both of her legs was brought to him by two of his guards.



Her appreciation of Andrus in all of his glory was interrupted when she was jerked to the side. She turned her head up to see her father. His face was worried and stern.



"Go with the nursemaid Jenavive."



"But father, I can help-" he snapped his fingers and she jumped to do as he bade. The last thing she saw before the small woman grabbed her and ran behind the grand throne was the King's heavy guard standing in a semi-circle in front of him, their great maces and tower shields at the ready. The nursemaid hunkered down and turned Jenavive so her face was under the woman's chin, turned enough so she could breathe, but otherwise, the way she was being held made her completely immobile.



The nursemaid was crying and praying. Jenavive, for all of her knowledge and experiences had never been faced with the proposition of death. Or rather, death as anything other than a heroic end to a great life. She had been taught that even enemies that fell to their kingdom's blades died with honor and would be born again. Death was not something horrific and terrible. She had no reason to fear it. She had never been victimized by death so she did not understand the emotions tied with it.



Suddenly, her thoughts interrupted, Jenavive moved to grab her temples, forcing her arms out of the older woman's grasp. she gasped in agony as her brain started screaming, ears feeling like blood was pouring out of them. Jenavive started panting, eyes rolling back in her head as the screams grew louder and more intense. The nursemaid was asking her something, whispering in her ear but Jenavive heard nothing but those screams. Outside the throne room the sounds of mortar were getting closer as were sounds of men fighting and dying. But very suddenly, there was complete silence. It was as if everything had just stopped. And then the most peculiar sound rang throughout the throne room.



Someone knocked on the giant stone doors.



Not even a moment later the doors exploded inward in a thundering boom. Two bodies flew to either side of the throne, each one of the foot soldiers who had been manning the outside of the door. Their bodies were broken and bloody, their lives gone. The nursemaid bit her lips and hugged Jenavive tighter, whispering so quietly into her ear to remain as quiet as she could. Jena just nodded, looking at the dead bodies. From her position, she couldn't see much in front of the throne, but with the way the nursemaid was shaking, she managed to squirm a little bit and was able to look around the large throne without being noticed by anyone or anything. What she saw made her silver eyes widen in shock.



Five figures were standing in front of the heavy guards, four of which towered over the men like angry giants. They were made of stone which was decorated with spikes, black and red ooze and what could have seriously been entrails. They had stones for faces with glowing red eyes. It was harder to see the fifth figure since it was much smaller. Definitely male by the lack of breasts and the square jawline. The figure didn't look any older than the Prince which put him at maybe nineteen or twenty summers. But upon squinting her eyes and wriggling just a little more, she caught sight of his body. His skin was adorned with sick black markings. They looked like another language, a dark one. He was sickly in stature, his ribs and other bones protruding from his body. His skin held a deathly pallor to it, like he was touching the precipice and it was leeching the very life out of him. In his left hand was a staff, very sickly looking which held a sharp scrap of metal atop it, very much like a knife. No, it was not a spear, it was a staff with a knife attached to it.



"Pretty little King, Pretty little Castle. I'm going to raise it to the ground and molest the life from it's screaming inhabitants!" The man spoke in a very insane, sing-song like voice. And with each word he spoke, the voices in Jenavive's head grew louder. She saw her father, who had taken up residence next to the King, wince in pain.



"You dare invade my kingdom, kill my treasured people and then you DARE to invade my castle?" Andrus drew his mighty sword from it's scabbard and held it one handed, pointed directly at the small figure. "You will die for your transgressions." The small man just pointed his staff at one of the heavy guardsmen, one off to the left, and lifted it with a horrific smile on his face. The man went flying up to the ceiling with such speeds, he was a blur. The resounding cracking that echoed through the nearly silent room made Jenavive's heart sputter. Her eyes slowly looked up and she felt bile rise in her throat. The man who had once served his King with his whole being was nothing more than a splatter on the ceiling. His armor, bones and studier organs fell to the floor in front of Andrus and Galrick.



Her eyes moved from the remains on the floor to the giants who now brandished rock like squares in their hands. And with loud, thunderous noises, nearly deafening, the rest of the heavy guardsmen fell into lifeless piles. They were full of whole, some completely torn apart. as the giants prepared to attack again, Glarick jumped out in front of Andrus and spread his hands wide, as if parting a curtain. Whatever was being used as an attack came to an abrupt halt in front of her father, stopped by a shimmering shield of magic. Jenavive noticed little rocks that seemed to have been stopped by the magic. Rocks had done so much damage to their people? As the rocks fell tot he floor, the magic fell with them and Jenavive noticed her father slightly bent over and out of breath. Jenavive's head throbbed again and she noticed her father wince. She thought about taking off the amulet around her neck and tossing it to her father but she knew once the amulet came off, she would be at the mercy of the voices.



The little man chose that moment to start moving, drawing her silver eyes to his form. He walked over to one of the bodies. He used the knife at the top of his staff to stab into the body and he then viciously twisted the knife and drew it downwards. The soldiers organs came spilling from the wound all over the floor. The little man knelled on the floor and examined the remains before picking up a heart. It was still beating!



Her knowledge of anatomy had never prepared her for this. What was he looking for? Why was he doing something so terrible? She turned her head away and bit her lip to keep from gasping. The man brought the heart to his mouth and ate it. Just the thought of it made bile rise in the back of her throat. There were sickened sound coming from the men in front of the throne. she couldn't blame them. Her head snapped up when she heard a sick laugh and she noticed the small man rising to his feet, blood and muscle around his mouth. He pointed his staff at her father--and that was all she knew. The pain in her head became too much and she blacked out.