The Prince of Aragon

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE BEHEADING

“Are you ready?” Cameron asked as they hovered over the sleeping body of the Emperor. They had waited for several weeks following Li Qi’s death to make sure that no one knew about their secret mission. When nobody came forward with blackmail or anything else, they had sneaked inside the chamber to pilfer the Dà Vita and were once again in the chambers for the third murder.

The one which was supposed to be a beheading, the killing method that Salvatore seemed to covet.

A flash of Amara’s warning flashed in his head. Don’t do it! Her voice whispered through the blowing winds, and he shrugged off the uneasy feeling. He wouldn’t let a rotten dream spoil his plan.

With the sword held high above his head, Novak brought the weapon down with force, while Connor and Cameron were holding the body in a half-sitting position. With satisfaction, the prince watched the head dislodge from the nape imagining his father’s head bouncing on that exact same spot.

Retribution felt like relief pouring through his veins, he was taking a perverse pleasure killing the man who had murdered so many lives. There was no longer a single drop of remorse – he was thirsty for more.

However, a chilling sensation went through him as the head rolled to the ground without a single drop of blood. What the hell was going on?

Poleaxed, they all stared as the head righted itself on the floor, and a pair of piercing blue eyes snapped open. For a moment, it flickered around, and landed on Novak, pinned him with a sinister and lifeless glare.

They all stood their ground, too scared to make a single move or even draw the slightest breath. Novak placed his index finger on his lips as a request to maintain complete silence. And they watched in utter horror as the head jumped on the bed and joined itself to the body. Like a puzzle fitting in, the head adjusted itself to the nape, and the eyes snapped shut. There was no trace, no mark to indicate that the head had been chopped off in any way.

Terrified that Salvatore would wake up any moment, Novak signaled the others and they all fled the palatial chambers like the devil himself was after them, gasping only when they reached the sanctuary of their rooms.

“Holy s**t!” Cameron said, his teeth rattling with fear. “That…. w…was…”

“Have you seen that?” whispered Connor in shaken stupor.

“Dear God!” Isla murmured. “Do you think he saw us?”

They were all babbling at the same time with Novak being the only one not speaking. If only he had listened to Amara’s cautionary words. It hadn’t been just a dream but instead a warning – Amara had contacted him to deter him from beheading the Emperor precisely for that reason.

Had she found out something else about the spell, and had been trying to contact him? Or was she using her magical powers to spy on them? Prince Novak didn’t know what to make of that fact.

Another visit to the cave was primordial – not for himself, but for the sake of his mission. He wasn’t in the least interested in interacting with that sorceress.

“Carter? Why are you so silent?” Isla asked him in a worried voice. “Are you okay? Do you think he saw us?” she repeated.

“We’ll know in a minute,” he delivered systematically.

If Aldo Salvatore had seen them, there would be an army at his doorstep within seconds to imprison them. Heaven knew what treatment the evil Emperor would reserve for them traitors if he got a whiff of their hidden agenda.

“Oh, dear lord,” Connor said, sitting on the bed for supporting his jelly-like legs, He had no wish to die so young, he realized. Before embarking on the revenge mission, Carter had made everything sound so easy – so simple. But now he wasn’t so sure.

That obscene scene had terrified him so much that he’d nearly peed in his pants, but he hadn’t wanted to disappoint his King. Carter, no Novak was the King of Aragon, the crowning was just a formality. Serving him was a privilege he’d never thought he would have.

Maybe they had bitten more than they can chew.

“Cart, do you think we should stop for a while? What if they doubt us?” Connor asked with pursed lips. “What if we’re caught?”

Still remaining silent, Novak raised his hand and removed the sword from the sheath in his back. Taking the guard position, the ruby glowed to show the number five hundred and four.

“It has worked. My lives have been doubled again,” he announced sordidly. “We really need to know the Emperor’s remaining lives for our next strategy.”

A sinister knock at the door made them all jump in perfect synchrony, and Prince Novak placed a finger on his mouth again to silence them. Hiding the sword quickly under his bed, he searched for more hideouts, but it was too short notice to find good hiding places for all three of the others.

Besides, what if it were the guards and they decided to snoop around? Taking the Lola board game which they usually played, he signaled Isla to install the pawns, while he proceeded to open the door.

He could only pray that everyone maintained a level of equanimity and did not panic. One last glance towards them to ensure that everything was in place before he swung open his door with a feigned surprise tone.

“Your Majesty?” he asked in contrived stupefaction, allowing Emperor Salvatore to barge inside his chambers followed by some guards. “What is the matter?”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of Connor gulping his fear, and Novak gave him a subtle nod of reassurance. Keep calm, he conferred with his eyes, hoping that his brother would retain his equanimity under the circumstances.

It was hard – for he found himself feeling frenzied at the appearance of that man at his doorstep in the middle of the night. It was not a common practice; he must have sensed something for they weren’t pals for a social call at such an ungodly hour followed by so many guards. What if Salvatore went looking for his sword instead?

Novak threw a panicked glance under his bed to ensure that there was no metal peeking, his mind alarmed when he realized that the fact that they hadn’t returned the sword to its place yet was pure coincidence. They would have been caught red-handed.

“Nothing,” the man replied suavely, with his hands behind his back to check on their boardgame. “I had a horrible nightmare and was in need of some company.”

Novak wasn’t sure he believed him, but Salvatore was not a man to play games. If he’d seen them, they would have already been chained at that moment. So, the question was - what was the latter doing in his chambers?

“That’s such a shame, your Majesty,” Novak pretended to sympathize, keeping a neutral face, and praying that the others would follow through. “We were also unable to sleep and thus playing some Lola.”

His mind was already working like a clock to find a way to return the sword before anyone found out that it was missing. But if it were discovered that the weapon has been misplaced, there was a high chance that Salvatore would have his suspicions confirmed.

“What is that game?” Salvatore peered curiously at the board of games, which Novak noted with relief that Isla had the presence of mind to install the pawns in a haphazard manner to make it look like they were in the middle of a very interesting game. “Explain the rules of the game to me,” he ordered in his autocratic voice.

With a resigned sigh, Novak offered the Emperor the place where he usually sat, and patiently explained the game’s norms to him. The Emperor seemed impressed, but all the four of them were fidgety. It was clear that they were on their guards, expecting things to degenerate any moment.

Especially after that sordid experience - that was the man whose head they had recently chopped off for God’s sake!

Now they were casually playing Lola with the same man, struggling to act like nothing was amiss. There was no other option, but what bothered Novak was that as long as Salvatore was inside his chambers, the possibility of returning the stolen sword was next to nil.

It seemed that Salvatore had no intention of going back soon, and Novak prayed that they all maintained their equanimity until the end of his call.

There was something very wrong in that setting, Emperor Salvatore could not quite put his hands on what it was exactly. It certainly looked like a bunch of siblings playing a board game together, but there were some signs which were quite telling. Like that boy on his right, Connor was his name? flinching every time he extended his hand towards him.

Or the way that lass subjected him to those fleeting wary glances like she was expecting him to react in some sort of way. He was too experienced to know that she was not hitting on him. Except he couldn’t quite put his fingers on what was actually wrong. They were probably in awe by his presence.

Besides, he’d just had a terrible nightmare of someone chopping off his head and had awoken with a jerk and in sweats. The Sorceress Amalia had warned him that having nightmares was a really bad sign.

Uneasy and unable to sleep, he’d visited that lass’s chambers, only to find it empty. He’d taken a wild guess that she was with her brothers at such an ungodly hour and had not heeded to anything other than wanting to see her.

It wasn’t that he conjured himself in love or anything – he desired her. He had lived long enough to discover that nobody remained faithful to him in the way which really mattered. Except maybe one’s offspring.

His mind drifted involuntarily to Freya, his only daughter. Well, the only legitimate one at least. Fate had been uncharitable not to bestow him any sons, even after seven marriages. Then, it had become too tedious for him and he’d given up. He was too old for marriages.

His harem in his fifth realm kept him fully satisfied, and he’d never felt the urge for frolicking with peasants. That was why his lust for that lass infuriated him. He didn’t have a harem in his ninth realm – maybe that was something to remedy.

That lass would refuse to be part of it though, for any decent warrior would not want to be withheld in such a domestic place. It was rare these days to have a female so accomplished with sword, and he’d better kept her near him. He shrugged. What that lass could not perform, he would request his most trusted men to bring him virgins more exquisite than the one on front of him right now.

There was never a lack of females.

Moreover, the thought of having someone warming his bed brought him some level of comfort, and he found himself looking forward to it. If anything, it would help him forget that horrendous nightmare. He had no interest in that stupid game, had been using it only as a diversion.

“I’m done for the night,” he announced, standing up, and pushing the board away from him. “I’ll bid you goodnight.”

He missed the blatant relief in the four pair of eyes in front of him, as he whirred around to leave for his chambers, signaling his guards to follow his lead. Hands behind his back, he surveyed the first appearance of light in the sky before sunrise with the cynicism of the fallen man he was.

It was like the w***e showing her true face.

Maybe he was lonelier that he’d allowed himself to accept. It’s been so many years since his last conquest, and there was no thrill anymore. After having acquired nine realms, he no longer had any desire for more conquests.

You will be the conqueror of nine realms, the Sorceress Amalia had prophesized with her long hair flowing around her beautiful face. Now, that woman had been a rare beauty, but the Emperor had refused to dally with witches. He’d heard enough stories to know that those creatures were not to be trusted.

Why only nine? he’d grounded at the time, hungry for power, unstoppable until he’d been fully satiated by acquiring everything.

You will stop at nine, she’d responded evasively, her topaz eyes glittering with something else, which he’d been wary of.

Maybe that prophecy had biased him because he had indeed stopped upon his ninth conquest, after killing the King, the Queen and the Prince – a far too easy task now. Nobody could defeat him, and that feeling of utter indestructible was something deplorable – those victories insipid.

That damned sorceress had known beforehand that those achievements would become vapid and spiritless. He’d lost something precious in exchange for his immortality, and it had been a two-way deal.

Killing people had become so easy for him now that he didn’t even think twice before swinging his sword. Beheading others was his favorite method of execution, so there was a connection between him and his sword.

His sword.

He stopped right in his tracks, his mind whirling to a stop as he recalled that the Dà Vita was right here in this castle.

With a tilt of his index finger, he ordered the guards to disperse, as he strolled towards the Chamber of Dragons – where he hid the magical sword. Nobody was aware of its existence – he normally kept it in his most secure chamber at the main Kingdom of Blanca, the fifth realm.

The truth was that he never took the risk of leaving the beloved sword behind – the one which contained the secret behind his immortality. He should have checked on his weapon right after that nightmare. He’d not have one in ages, the thought of being invincible no longer evoking any fear or weakness. But if his sword was being tampered with, there would be no remnants doubts that someone had stumbled upon his secret.

In that case, it would mean that the bad dream was not a mere coincidence, but someone had actually been trying to kill him. Due to the sorcery, he felt nothing when the metal pierce his body, but if there was someone trying to kill him, that fact would not be common knowledge.

Anger curled hot and unstoppable in his gut, like a blazing furnace that wanted to consume him from the inside out. Clenching his fists so hard that his nails dug into hi skin, he wondered who could be foolish enough to trifle with him. That poor guy was not aware how powerful he was. There was no way someone could eliminate him – he’d acquired so many lives that another person would have to kill him over and over before draining the lives out of him.

Even then, he’d insisted upon a unique salvation spell on that sword so that nobody else could use his own weapon against him. There was no way he was sharing the lives that he’d so hardly earned.

Coming to the wall design, he stopped to admire the delicacy of the engravings that Master Giovani had painted for him. He had a secret chamber in every castle, but the hideout for his armory was different in every realm, so as not to give any hints, but there was always an enigma at every secret entrance.

That one was about the legend warrior Pashto who lived during the ancient era with two dragons, Electra, and Belladonna. Legends professed that the beasts existed in the previous century but were now extinct. Pashto had been the conqueror of twenty-seven kingdoms, unbeatable with his two dragons.

Salvatore’s only regret was that he could no longer find any in that era. He’d searched for them in dark caves, and even tried to use sorcery to invoke one from the past. It hadn’t worked.

Touching both dragons simultaneously to open the entrance, the Emperor turned his head around as the wall detached itself to reveal the opening. Taking the torch from the sconce, he frowned upon the fact that it seemed on the verge of falling. He should have a word with the butler tomorrow about the castle upkeeping.

Lighting his path, he made his way towards the scabbard where he kept his sword and was relieved to find the weapon intact and checked his remaining lives. It must have been his imagination. No one would dare lock horns with him, not if he wanted to live. He was still the invincible Emperor Salvatore, first of his name, Conqueror of Kingdom Valencia, Destroyer of Kingdom Mallorca, Usurper of Kingdom Taormina, Warrior of the Kingdom Riesa, Hero of the Kingdom Blanca, Savior of the Kingdom Swakina, Commander of the Kingdom Decagon, Executioner of the Kingdom Catalonia and finally the Slayer of Kingdom of Aragon.

That ostentatious string of titles should have generated more self-satisfaction that it usually did. However, that latest gnawing sense of restlessness was omnipresent causing him to feel unsatisfied. He loathed that feeling of incompleteness. Disgruntled with himself, he sheathed the sword to his front belt, and closed the secret passage.

Behind one of the tall columns of the castle, Prince Novak and Isla peeped just in time to see Salvatore coming out of the entrance with the magic sword at his front.