"Alas," I suddenly raised my voice, cutting through the disgusting laughter that still echoed around the marble hall. "I do have a very special gift for you, Lord Darush. For all of you, in fact."
I projected my words with a much louder and more commanding voice than I had used before, ensuring every person in the chamber could hear me clearly over the dying remnants of their cruel amusement.
"Don't even think about rejecting my generous good will," was all I uttered as a final warning before completely vanishing from their sight in an instant, teleporting myself back to the military camp outside the walls where Arvid and his assembled army waited in tense readiness for my arrival.
We had formulated our plan carefully over several strategy sessions. Since Arvid desperately didn't want to cause unnecessary bloodshed among the civilian population of Arpa—his own people, innocent men, women and children who bore no responsibility for their leaders' treachery—I would infiltrate deep into the city alone. I would sneak undetected into Arpa using my invisibility magic, penetrate all the way to the inner castle where the traitors had gathered, and set a stable magical anchor point for teleportation magic directly inside that castle throne room where every single traitor and conspirator was assembled. Then I would return immediately to Arvid and his forces waiting outside, and we would use that anchor to teleport an elite strike force directly into the heart of enemy territory, bypassing all the walls and defenses entirely.
And that's exactly what I had successfully accomplished. Thanks to the gods above sacred Mount Serana, I had not faced any significant hardships or complications in achieving that crucial first objective.
"You're back," Arvid said in greeting as soon as I materialized at our pre-discussed rendezvous point in the camp. His voice was calm but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the readiness in his stance. I immediately reached out and quickly grabbed onto his arm, establishing the physical contact necessary for group teleportation.
"We have no time to waste," I told him curtly, urgency coloring my tone. Every second we delayed gave the traitors more opportunity to potentially discover what I'd done and prepare defenses.
He nodded his understanding quickly and immediately reached out to firmly grasp the soldier standing ready next to him. That soldier in turn held onto the next, creating a chain. Within moments, Arvid had assembled exactly the strike force we'd planned—General Rohan with his tactical expertise, Gautham who had miraculously returned from near-death after finally recovering from the Dergu's poison arrows, and a carefully selected group of Arvid's most elite and trusted soldiers. Every man was heavily armed with modern firearms and ample ammunition, prepared for intense close-quarters combat.
After we had all established secure physical contact with each other in an unbroken chain, I took a deep centering breath and focused intently on the magical anchor I had set in the castle throne room. Then I activated the teleportation spell, channeling magic through all of us simultaneously.
We appeared instantaneously out of thin air directly into what was now a completely chaotic hall. The once serene and controlled atmosphere had utterly vanished in the panic following my sudden disappearance. Everyone was in a state of barely controlled panic. The soldiers who had been strategically positioned outside the hall for subtle security were now rushing inside in confusion, desperately trying to protect and calm down the loudly clamoring noblemen who were shouting contradictory orders and demands.
The languid, relaxed man who had been reclining so casually on his throne just minutes before—Darush—now stood bolt upright, all pretense of boredom completely abandoned. His amber eyes widened dramatically in genuine shock at the sight of what I had brought directly into his sanctum—an armed enemy force materialized from nowhere.
"I have brought you the gift of death," I announced to him clearly, fixing my sole, unwavering gaze directly on his face. I wanted him to see his doom coming.
"As each and every one of you traitors so richly deserves."
---
The situation in the throne room quickly turned decisively to our advantage, though the outcome was never really in doubt. Though the castle soldiers were equipped with firearms—the same modern weapons that had made Selon so militarily dominant—by no means were they truly great or elite marksmen comparable to the specialized squad that Arvid had deliberately brought with him for exactly this purpose. These were men who had trained extensively with firearms, who practiced constantly to maintain their skills.
Arvid himself was absolutely one with his weapon, his aim so naturally perfect it seemed almost supernatural. He never wasted a single round of ammunition, never fired a shot that didn't find its intended target. Every single bullet he discharged was a clean headshot, precisely placed for instant death.
The first person to die from Arvid's gun was actually Sathish, the brother who had escorted me so courteously into this trap. The man came charging recklessly at Arvid with a sword drawn, apparently thinking he could close the distance before Arvid could aim, trying desperately to take down the emperor in close combat where his blade might have given him an advantage.
Arvid didn't hesitate or think twice about killing his own cousin. He simply raised his weapon with practiced economy of motion and fired directly at the charging man. The result was a perfect headshot, the bullet entering precisely through the center of Sathish's forehead. The man went down instantly as blood spurted violently from the catastrophic impact wound. His momentum carried his corpse forward several more steps before it collapsed heavily onto the polished marble floor.
It was utterly swift and quick, clinically precise. An aim that served the sole and singular purpose of killing as efficiently as possible, without any wasted motion or excess suffering.
When Arvid subsequently turned and aimed his still-smoking gun directly at Darush, that previously proud and arrogant man immediately collapsed to his knees in abject terror. He started begging desperately and pathetically for his miserable life, all his earlier confidence and cruel superiority completely evaporated in the face of imminent death.
"I was wrong, cousin! I was so terribly wrong about everything!" he babbled frantically, words tumbling over each other. "I—I let those manipulative old fools' poisonous words influence me too much. I would never have truly betrayed you if they hadn't pushed me! This wasn't my idea! I was wrong, please, I'm begging you to forgive me!"
He was gasping and crying, his face contorted with terror. "Think about all the time we spent together growing up! Remember our childhood! For the last five years I've been completely loyal to you, serving faithfully! This was just a momentary impulse of mine, temporary madness! Please, brother Arvid, please! Have mercy and forgive me! I'll do anything!"
He was a blubbering, mumbling mess, all dignity abandoned in his desperation to avoid the fate he'd brought upon himself.
Arvid just sighed deeply, a sound heavy with disappointment and profound sadness. He looked down at Darush kneeling before him as if the man were nothing more than a pathetic insect that he could easily squash just by choosing to glance at it with intent.
"I know," Arvid said quietly, his voice carrying clearly in the sudden silence that had fallen over the hall. "I know that you were genuinely loyal to me for the last five years. You served me well during that time. If it wasn't for that demonstrated loyalty and trustworthiness, I wouldn't have left my Imperial seal in your custody when I departed. I did that because I truly trusted you with the most important symbol of imperial authority."
His voice became a complex mix of deep sadness and barely restrained rage. "And what did you do with that precious trust I placed in you? You let the corrupting power get the better of you. You put all of Arpa's innocent people in terrible danger with your ambition. You engineered things so that Selon would destroy itself from within, tearing apart everything our ancestors built."
He pointed with his free hand at the ostentatious throne where Darush had been sitting and posturing just minutes ago. "You aren't worthy of that seat. Deep down, you know that truth perfectly well."
Arvid deliberately drew his gun back and carefully re-aimed it with cold precision at the center of the kneeling man's head.
"Please, brother, please!" Darush begged with renewed desperation, fresh tears streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry for everything! I swear I will never, ever do anything like this again! Please don't kill me! I'll spend the rest of my life making this right!"
Arvid sighed again, this time with a quality of finality.
"Will you stay loyal to me like a faithful dog for the rest of your natural life?" he asked, his voice completely flat and devoid of emotion. "Answer me honestly. Will you?"
"Yes, brother, yes! Absolutely yes!" Darush answered with desperate eagerness, grabbing onto this apparent lifeline. "I swear it on everything I hold sacred! I'll be loyal until my dying breath!"
Arvid's lips curved into something that might have been a smile, but it was strained and terribly sad, filled with the pain of betrayal and the necessity of what came next.
"And that answer is a lie," he stated simply.
Then he fired his weapon at point-blank range.
Since the gun barrel was positioned so close to Darush's head when Arvid pulled the trigger, the man's skull essentially exploded from the impact and the expanding gases. It burst apart violently, spilling brain matter and bone fragments in a grotesque, spreading mess across the floor behind where he'd been kneeling. The sight reminded me disturbingly of the watermelon Arvid had shot back in Draga to demonstrate the destructive power of firearms to the northern nobles. But this was infinitely more violent and viscerally disturbing because it was human flesh and bone rather than fruit.
After executing his treacherous cousin, Arvid methodically repeated the same process with the surviving conspirators. He had his soldiers force all the elderly nobles who had supported the coup to kneel in a straight line on the blood-slicked floor. Then he walked down that line, stopping before each man in turn.
And he asked each one the exact same question, over and over, his voice never changing in tone or inflection.
"Will you stay loyal to me for the rest of your days?"
Bang. A single shot. A body slumping.
He moved to the next kneeling figure.
"Will you stay loyal to me for the rest of your days?"
Bang. Another execution.
Next man. Same question. Same result.
None of them could answer truthfully. And Arvid's gift allowed him to know with certainty when they lied.
While this grim work continued, General Rohan had been searching systematically through Darush's possessions. He finally located and retrieved the stolen Imperial seal, the jade artifact that represented the emperor's authority. As soon as Arvid finished with the last of the traitors and Rohan placed the recovered seal into his hands, Arvid simply tossed the precious jade object upward into the air with a casual flick of his wrist.
Then, while it was still airborne and tumbling, he raised his gun with perfect timing, carefully aimed, and shot directly at it.
The ancient Imperial seal shattered spectacularly into thousands of small pieces, fragments of jade scattering across the floor like green rain.
"I am the seal of the Selon Empire," Arvid declared loudly, his voice ringing with absolute authority throughout the blood-soaked hall. "I myself embody imperial authority. I will always be the true seal until my death, and no object can replace or supersede that. Let no one forget this."