If you want to know how this story started, you can read about it HERE.
He stands looking over the vast empire that stretches out before, he allows himself a smile, knowing today, unlike so many others, for him, is a sorrowful day.
An armored warrior strides into his throne room and comes to a sudden halt, saluting, “All hail Lord Chiveron,” he shouts.
“At ease Commander, what news do you bring?”
“We have taken the strong hold, we have won my lord.”
“And Kafka, what has become of him?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.
“We have him,” the commander replies with a wry smile.
“Bring him to me,” he says quickly.
The commanders smile widens, “I knew you would want that,” he says as he turns toward the entrance way, “BRING HIM IN!” He yells.
Seconds later six heavily armed soldiers lead in a shackled man, his head hanging towards the ground, his eyes widen, lost.
“Leave us,” Chiveron says.
“My lord is that wise, sir….” The Commander says before Chiveron give his a deathly stare.
“I SAID, LEAVE US!”
“Of course,” The Commander says, signaling to the soldiers, then bows and quickly follows them out of the chambers, Kafka stands unmoving, his eyes still fixed to the ground, as Chiveron slowly circles around him.
“Would you believe, one day, we would be standing here, on opposite sides,” he says, Kafka does not respond. He strides up, standing a few feet from him, “What happened to you Kafka, what drove you to betray me?”
“You betrayed me,” Kafka hisses.
“How dare you, I did nothing but protect you, keep you safe, you betrayed my trust, you calculated plans to dethrone me, to spill my blood, I never betrayed you once.”
“Lies, once you rose to power, one you took your title, you changed, the boy I grew up with, the boy I protected, loved, he died, whoever you are now, you are not him, you are a disease this land can do without, a disease that I know the cure for.”
He slaps Kafka across the face, he eyes glow red, fire leaps from his fingers, “You never protected me, I protected you, without me, without who I am, you would be dead, boy.”
“There you go, all high and mighty again, life isn’t all about power, all about a title.”
“What is a man if he does not have a title?”
“Is that how you see yourself in this world? Is this how you find meaning?”
“Meaning? There is no meaning to be found boy, title brings respect, so, either you respect my position, or die, there is nothing else!”
“And in that, is your undoing,” Kafka says, as he raises his head, and stares fiercely into Chiveron’s eyes. “Your quest for power, your title, has blinded you to who this world needs you to be, do you not remember the stories we were told when we were children, the morals that your father tried to pass onto you, this mistake he wished you not to make.”
“My father was weak, I am not him, I am power, I am…” his words don’t come, as he feels the blade dig deep into his chest, he looks up, staring into Karla’s eyes.
“I am sorry my brother, but your time is over, I have the support of our people, you, are the disease, I am the cure,” he says as he thrust the blade in deeper.