Hell Hath No Fury, Chapter 1, First Four Pages

Hell Hath No Fury

Part 1: Ripples 

“Only fools and idealists believe that no one has anything to complain about.”

-Emperor Justinus ïst Lucinti de Vincentius, 854 Imperial Year

Chapter 1: A Flimsy Grip

The sound of beautiful violin music suddenly died. A moment later, the elegant instrument was dashed to pieces on the amphitheater’s stage, producing the decidedly less beautiful sounds of cracking wood and popping strings.

“Oh no,” Özcan said, barely even trying to keep it under his breath, “here it comes.”

Right on que, the sound of tortured screaming followed the sound of tortured wood.

“You dare fall asleep at my concert,” shrieked Emperor Lucius ïst Havice de Vincentius. He stood in the middle of the stage, black locks, black doublet, black cape, and black ostrich feather in his gold cap all shaking with rage.

Just because he's slender and pretty like a woman doesn’t mean he has to be shrill like one, Özcan thought, disgusted at the emperor’s effeminate outrage. If you must throw a hissy fit, at least have the balls to bellow like a man. Özcan leaned forward and looked down the row of prim and proper lords and ladies, craning to see around the backs of finely manicured heads.

“Oh no,” he moaned, this time loud enough for even his neighbors to hear.

General Demir Claixtus’s eyes fluttered open as he straightened in his chair, uncrossed his thick arms from his chest. His broad, lined face blinked about like he’d forgotten where he was. If the great general had been sitting in the back, his mid performance nap likely would have gone unnoticed.  Unfortunately for everyone in the concert hall, he was the guest of honor for tonight’s show; and thus, was seated in the very front. Right where Emperor Lucius could see him.

“Bloody disgrace,” Özcan breathed again but no one was listening. They were too busy pretending not to listen to their Emperor tirade.

“I put on this grand event,” Lucius was still yelling for some reason. “Wine, food, and music all paid for by the Imperial treasury.”

“He paid himself to perform at a concert he paid for?” This time Özcan didn’t bother whispering. A neighboring wife of some bureaucrat tittered at his joke. The elder bureaucrat did not.

Lucius ranted on, shrill as his once intact instrument. “And this is how you repay your Emperor? By falling asleep?”

For General Demir’s part, the man seemed totally unperturbed. His heavy-lidded eyes blinked once. He reached one scarred hand up and gently ran it over his stubbly salt and pepper hair. Özcan watched his steady blue eyes evenly stare back at the red-faced Emperor. Ater a moment, he gently slid from his seat and down onto one knee.

“I apologize, your highness,” he said in a voice that seemed too booming for his short stature. “Since returning from campaign I haven’t much time to rest, and I cannot shrug off sleeplessness as I could in my youth. Forgive me. Your playing was excellent, and I would love to hear more.”

The calm, civil response starkly contrasted Lucius’s childish rage, and when placed side by side, the emperor’s terrible temper seemed even more terrible. However, Özcan couldn’t help but notice that despite the general’s calm acquiescence, his son Vadim Claixtus, appeared to be growing quite indignant.

“I refuse,” Lucius said. The black ostrich feather dipped back as he turned up his nose. “True art must be appreciated the first time. If you cannot do so, then you do not deserve it.”

“Very well,” Demir grunted as he rose to standing. “The hour is late, and you deserve to perform for an audience who can truly appreciate your talent. So, I will retire for the evening.”

Lucius’s face went beet red.

“Wrong answer,” Özcan winced, bringing his nails to his lips.

“You cannot be serious,” Lucius snapped out.

The poor General paused, looking as confused as a dog with four tails. “My lord?”

“You are supposed to beg for more! I was willing to play again but not if you didn’t genuinely push for it.”

“Oh, uh, right, well would you please play more, your grace? Please.”

“Well, I’m not going to do it now!” Lucius screeched. Özcan thanked the gods that there was no glass around lest it be shattered by sheer decibels. “You had your chance to grovel. It has passed. Now out! You have wasted enough of my time already!”

While the general sighed with evident relief, that last comment was apparently a bridge too far for the younger Claixtus. Though he looked nothing like his father, the gangly youth he sprung from his chair, finger pointed at the emperor in the best impression of his father ordering a charge.

“You dare insult my father?” He whined, voice not that much deeper than the Emperor’s. “At his own celebration?”

With the first sense of urgency he’d shown all evening, the general turned and scolded his son, “Quiet boy.”

But the damage had been done. Emperor Lucius had been presented with the fuel he needed to keep the fires of another famous tantrum roaring hot.

“What did you say to your Emperor, you little pissant?”

“Please your highness, forgive my son,” Demir held a hand up, “he has forgotten himself. It was his first campaign we most recently returned from, and he seems to have taken it harder than most.”

Lucius wasn’t listening. He spun on his heel and walked backstage. A moment later, he returned. Oh, dear me, now what is he doing with that?

Holding it by the scabbard, Lucius brandished Worldrender like a torch against the dark. He made sure everyone present saw the gold hilt, jeweled cross piece, and the deadly splendor of the strongest Hexerax in the entire Empire. A Hexerax now in the hands of an unreasonably irritated man child. Based on a thumping of floorboard from behind him, Özcan was sure someone had fainted. He felt his ass clench in its seat with the rest of the room/

All except General Claixtus it seemed. While his prickly son took a weary step back, Demir simply stood at the base of the stage, heavy eyes looking up somewhat unimpressed at the emperor’s threatening display. He was not a tall man, shorter than most women. But the set of his thick legs and broad shoulder conveyed a sturdiness that wouldn’t be easily shaken. It appeared Lucius, however, was ready to give his best effort.

He took another step towards the pair. “Speak another word contrary to mine and I’ll have your tongue, boy,” Lucius hissed.

“No, you won’t.” Demir replied. Not with any defiance or challenge. Just a statement. Like the Emperor had said the sky was red and Demir had politely but firmly corrected him.

It wasn’t received well. He snarled at Demir. “You presume to command your Emperor?”

“Of course not,” the general replied nonchalantly, bowing. “I merely stated that you will not draw that Hexerax. I am truly sorry for my uncouth behavior tonight. Your highness’s prowess with bow and string are truly as masterful they say. I will be happy to reimburse the treasury out of pocket if I have wasted any imperial Arens on this lovely evening.” He straightened to his full height. “But you will not draw that blade.”

Lucius faltered, clearly unsure of what to do with that calm but firm acquiescence. He stuck with his rage.

“I shall not be spoken to like that in my own palace!”

Demir drew a long, deep breath through his nose. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge. Özcan felt the tension in the air like a yolk on his shoulders. Maybe they all did.

“Fine,” Demir finally said slowly, “then draw.”

Özcan heard someone near him audibly gasp. A woman to his left swooned, the back of her hand to her forehead. A second casualty of dramatics.

“Wh-what?” Lucius was properly thrown out of sorts now, his anger faltering.

Demir held his gaze level and folded his arms, crisp doublet crumpling around bulky shoulders.

“If you are so keen to draw Worldrender then do so.”

Özcan’s initial fear of Woldrender being used had begun to fade and was now replaced by a sort of morbid fascination. He leaned forward, genuinely intrigued by what would happen next, studying the faces of those around him. Because despite all the palatable unease and tension in the amphitheater, the most uneasy and most tense of all now appeared to be Emperor Lucius himself.

“Woldrender mustn’t be drawn,” Lucius hesitantly said, “unless the Empire itself is under threat.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Demir replied, “and given you are Worldrender’s Handler by birthright as Emperor, I’m assuming you threatened to draw it against my son because you believe he poses a threat to the Empire. Does he?”

The question was meant to be rhetorical, but General Demir avoided making it sound condescending. He spoke like one friend trying to help another through a difficult life problem. Two buddies solving it together.

Lucius’s face seemed to experience ten different emotions at once. His mouth was hanging open like he might say something. His hand inched towards the hilt like he might actually draw the damn thing. His eyes darted back and forth like he was looking for a target. Only then did Özcan realize just how close he was seated to the potential zone of violence. Oh dear. And here I got into politics to avoid this sort of thing in the Army. What a pity.

However, it appeared that this evening, Emperor Lucius had as much appetite for violence as Özcan did.

“Out of my sight,” he finally barked. Worldrender dropped limp by his side. “Out! Before I change my mind.”

With that he spun on his finely tailored boots and stormed off, limp feather swishing in time with his angry footsteps. If he’d been an actor, it would have been a very well executed exit stage left. But since Lucius was an Emperor, Özcan thought it was frankly unbecoming, bordering on embarrassing.

“Thank you very much, my Lord,” the general called after him. “I once again apologize for my behavior as well as that of my son’s. Please send a receipt to my residence for your immediate reimbursement.”

The sound of a slamming door back stage showed what Emperor Lucius thought about apologies and reimbursement. The general stood for a moment longer, and Özcan watched intently to see what he would do next. Storm out? Yell? Chase after the Emperor? Based on the stories I heard about him in his last campaign, I wouldn’t be surprised if he rode Emperor Lucius down in the Square of Emperors, Worldrender or not.