Banes rose from his desk in the royal chambers, which used to be Vlaric's, and walked out onto the balcony. He peered into the distance, towards Glasswell Station. Oh yes, it, along with those bombs, was still in its crate, on the docks under heavy guard. Now was the time to transport it to the point of launch, to Place de Anarona, a wide-open plain on the northern end of Chalou Province where all military weaponry was kept. Banes thought over his earlier decision to deploy the weapon tomorrow morning, and concluded that a late night strike would be best. Take those Benutians by surprise, but only after Governor Chenek and key Alliance members are arrested and brought to Tyq for execution. They will be taken to the high hills to the west of Place de Anarona, from where they shall watch as the weapon is launched then witness their homeland's utter destruction. Then, once they realize their pathetic rebellion is at an end, and there is no more way out, they will suffer the agonizingly worst death possible, and it wold be public. Banes had that planned out as well, and he had a special punishment ready for the turncoat Chenek.
However, and Banes hadn't forgotten his beloved partner in crime, wanted Jolende to share in this triumph. Taking a messenger pigeon from its cage, Banes fastened a note onto the bird's leg. Before releasing the pigeon, he said, "Make haste to Koror, to the city of Lemrac. Princess Jolende must drop whatever she is doing and return to Tyq at once. Her dream of becoming queen of Eldonia is at hand."
He released the bird, watching intently as it soared out of sight. Smiling smugly to himself, Banes at last could turn attentions to the task at hand. Sensing Sgt. McMasters' presence in the room, Banes returned from the balcony. Although he learned to rely on others for all matters of state – public servants and royal officials – Banes was a naturally suspicious sort. Too much trust in anyone lulls one into a false sense of security. One must be on his guard at all times; there must be no room for dissent or insubordination. In time, Banes, once the destruction of Benut and elimination of the Alliance is complete, would put his own agenda for the new Eldonia into motion. What were those goals? Essentially the same as in times past, but more accent on order and control. Those kings did keep a tight rein on dissent and rebellion within the royal ranks and nobility, and extended that hold over the general populace. Banes intended to take it further, even if it meant complete extermination of those deemed undesirable and dangerous to his new Eldonian order. First item on that agenda was to destroy Nemir Province and all its inhabitants. Honestly, Banes thought, the mere presence of those freaks is evidence enough to warrant their demise. Every fairy and dwarf, every dragon and other aberrancies of nature, shall be no more. He'll order more Ultimate Weapons made, more than actually needed, to instill fear and obedience. Anyone or anything which dares to defy the new order would be subject of instant elimination. Control through fear is the only way to keep the people in line, and that new Eldonian order begins late tonight, while the Benutians are sleeping, unaware of the fate at hand.
"Sergeant McMasters," he said, "Have your men transport the weapons to Place de Anarona posthaste. I want that missile launched precisely at midnight. Do you remember the late king's orders to that effect?"
The soldier, a nondescript man of average height and dirty dishwater blond hair, replied, "Sire, King Vlaric ordered two such weapons built. The 'dummy' is marked, sire, and His Majesty had wanted that one launched first."
Banes nodded, smiling thinly, saying, "Good! Do not allow any of the local populace delay your duty. If anyone interferes with those weapons' transport, you are to slay them on sight! Now, be off with you!"
The sergeant clicked his heels in abject deference to his sovereign then exited the room. How wonderful, thought Banes, to have such underlings obey each and every command. Now that the launch time is set, Banes sent for his new steward, Hert, to convey more orders to the espionage network.
"Hert," he asked the moment the steward appeared, "where is Globbock? I desperately need his expertise."
"He is still on assignment, sire," replied Hert.
Banes sighed then asked, "Has there been any word from the royal army in Benut, from Captain LaGras?"
"Other than the army is nearing the provincial seat of Rumil, sire. He is awaiting orders from you."
"Then send these orders at once: I want his men to find and arrest Governor Chenek and anyone remotely involved in this rebel alliance. The traitors are to brought here, to Tyq, alive, where they will stand trial then executed for treason. Afterwards, inform LaGras to retreat from Benut and return home. All abovementioned actions must be completed before midnight. No exceptions!"
Hert clicked to attention, replying, "Yes, sire! Right away, sire!"
Good! No questioning authority, no backtalk, no shirking of duty. What an excellent move on Banes' part to replace Aughir, despite the man's loyal and thorough service to Vlaric, with the more pliable Hert. Besides, Aughir is Benutian by birth, and no such persons need to entertain a position within the new Eldonian regime.
++++++
A strong waft of spicy, musky cologne was noticeable in this expansive room. The flooring was plush black carpet, while the walls were tiled in varying shades of red. Wrapping around the room was a border of small mirrors, as if to catch reflections of the occupants' activities. Dominating the room was a huge four-poster bed dressed in the same color scheme: A black mink comforter, black satin sheets, red velvet pillows, and a black velvet canopy. In the far corner of the room was long, shiny brass pole upon which Princess Jolende descended from her private upper-story boudoir.
It was the particular manner in which Jolende employed to access her bedchamber that so greatly inflamed her numerous lovers. After all, it had always been like that for a woman whose life was based on seduction and carnal pursuits.
In that room awaited Taren, a minor household servant who, on occasion, when he wasn't delivering messages or running odd errands, serviced the princess herself. Taren had the rare privilege to be Jolende's current "pet du jour." He had just delivered a message via a special courier pigeon; it was Regent Banes who had good news for Jolende.
Good news indeed, the Kororian princess thought to herself as she primped before the mirror in her upstairs boudoir. As of midnight tomorrow, Benut Province will be a distant memory, what few survivors and Alliance members executed, and the new Eldonia shall rise, overshadowing all that came before. Banes will see to that.
Banes...
The name stuck in Jolende's mind, and she desperately wanted to be rid of him. He'd served his purpose, masterminding Vlaric's murder and pinning it on innocents, and doing away with dissidents and backstabbers. She thought Banes would keep on Aughir as royal steward as previously planned. No, as this most recent message read, Aughir requested to be reassigned to another office within the royal court. So, the quiet, unassuming Aughir, so loyal and dedicated to the late Vlaric, is now Banes' minister of justice. What a stunning development, and just what is needed to throw that nosy Inspector Argyle off the trail. According to Banes, Argyle had been conducting his own clandestine investigation despite orders to cease and desist. Vlaric, Banes so eloquently and firmly told the inspector, suffered from an overdose of that tonic. His Majesty became agitated, delirious, uncoordinated, then simply slipped and fell out the window.
Well, thought Jolende as she adjusted the laces of her tight black leather dress, Vlaric did become delirious and discombobulated; the toxweed has that effect when taken in high doses. Poor Vlaric, in the grip of the toxin, obviously suffered much, what his mind playing tricks on him, he believing his long dead wife, Daglin had returned from the grave to haunt him. Jolende herself, before departing the palace for Glasswell Station, lingered long enough to watch a drugged Vlaric babbling to a ghost. What she heard was quite surprising: The identity of the Alliance mole, the king's royal steward Aughir. Thank her own network of spies. She'd already known Aughir had her two handmaids, Cyprelle and Venvula, arrested and thrown into the palace dungeons. This she learned from that same footman assigned to bring Vlaric's tonic; he was her spy in the palace.
Jolende, after receiving Banes' message, toyed with sending a reply, informing her lover of Aughir's deception. No, let him discover it on his own; then again, if Jolende could help it, Banes will never know his former steward had leaked state secrets to the rebel alliance. Stupid man, she thought. He supposedly had it all planned out, down to the last detail. So anxious to be rid of Vlaric, Banes overlooked the very key to squelching the Alliance. Well, let him believe Aughir is such a noble and honest man as Jolende had her own agenda.
Fiddling with a pen, she almost wrote that reply, revealing Aughir as the leader of the rebel cell. Again, she put the pen down then tore up the note. No matter, for I have my own dreams for Eldonia, and they don't include Banes. Not one to be content playing second string to Banes, or anyone for that matter, Jolende devised her own secret agenda once she was firmly ensconced as Banes' queen-consort. She hated the fact her country, despite the solid relationship with the Eldonian regime and the many favors granted to her people, was, in effect still not given the recognition deserved. Jolende, well versed in Kororian history, recalled the first time the two provinces of Chalou and Koror joined in alliance. There was the initial pact between Thomas I and Queen Ziwan once the former learned of the precious element phérium and its special properties. Jolende knew Kororians, despite their penchant for practicing magic, were not naturally intuited for such indulgences. This is where phérium comes in, as in wearing medallions made from the substance. They give the wearer special powers, to conjure psychic and spiritual phenomena, to delve deep into their dreams and desires, to impart a sense of peace. Of course, the Kororians knew of phérium's unstable nature, which led Jolende's parents, Rakous and Tatria, to seek out King Vlaric's help in developing an ultimate weapon so destructive that it can wipe out an entire province in one strike. Oh yes, Jolende knew about that missile, and egged on Banes to persuade Vlaric to use it on Benut. Why continue to put up with those peoples after all the grief they caused during the last, pathetically fought rebellion. She also knew of the old prophecy about Amarah's direct descendent returning to reclaim the land stolen by those three seafarers nearly five centuries ago.
Yet, Jolende never believed in prophecy or foreshadowing. Those fanciful tales, to her thinking, were just the usual mindless babbling of a people who had been at odds with the Kororians from time immemorial. Her country, though heavily populated, lacked necessary resources and relied on the more well-endowed Benut for raw materials, foodstuffs, and finished goods. The Kororians hated the Benutians for their odd republican ways, nonsensical goddess worship, and their wealth of natural resources. Benut boasted a stable, prosperous, happy people who so willingly helped those in need. Unfortunately, the Kororians couldn't comprehend that generosity and sought ways to bring Benut to its knees, which wasn't easy. Enter those seafaring men, those three who founded the nation of Eldonia. At last, Koror achieved power and status despite that it was won at the expense of the Benutians, but it wasn't enough.
Now, today, with Banes in control of the Eldonian regime, Benut will soon be a whisper of a memory, and Jolende bided her time before the entire nation was hers. Oh, she would play the devoted, dutiful wife and queen consort. That is until an unfortunate accident shall take Banes' life. So sad, to scheme so meticulously to get what he wanted, only to die so soon thereafter, not able to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Jolende relished the thought of herself as the sole ruler of Eldonia, and she had Banes to thank, Ah, yes, and Sadius, too. Poor Sadius proved so willing a partner only to meet his end whilst planning his own future within the new order...
"Jolende! I'm in your bed, and I'm ready for you."
That was Taren calling from the bedroom downstairs. Such a good boy, so young and eager to learn the fine art of carnal pleasures. He does have an annoying habit, however, of being a tad too eager, thus the tendency to call out loud his presence in her bed.
Once again, Jolende stood before the mirror, examining her reflection. A skintight black leather dress molded to her generously curvaceous figure, short as to show the shapely legs and thighs. She chose not to wear her usual spike heels, opting to go barefoot. Her long dark hair sparkled like polished jet, the lips and nails painted a daring blood red. She smiled then began to descend the pole. No, not a quick slide as a firefighter, but a slow, deliberately sensual slither, head first, as a blatantly sexual burlesque queen.
So taken aback by Jolende's sexy writhing and humping down that pole, Taren nearly fell off the bed, his eyes wide open as if taking in all of her sensual serpentine descent. His hand flew to his groin, rapidly and impatiently rubbing. Now she was on the floor, on her knees. Slowly she arose, dancing insolently and suggestively. She cooed and purred:
"Taren, how would you like to be my prince consort? Now, be a good boy and please me the way I crave. Soon you shall be the most powerful man in all Eldonia."
"But what about Banes?," he asked, his eyes still on her curvy, wriggling body. "Isn't he the new king?"
Just before she stripped off the dress then removed Taren's clothing, she said with a sinister smile, "Not for long..."
Copyright©2006, 2007 by P.R. Parker. All rights reserved.