Part VII: The Twin Towers Conspiracy
Chapter 4: Meeting of the Shadows
Timeline AO 298
The non-descript room was a secluded sanctuary hidden deep within the labyrinthine corridors of the underbelly of the palace at Rhokki Pass. The dim flicker of candlelight cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, yet the air was thick with the scent of incense, mingling with a faint trace of lavender.
Princess Hecla stood by a grand, intricately carved table, wearing a dark robe that flowed around her like a shadow. Her eyes gleamed with the cunning of a seasoned conspirator as she awaited the arrival of her clandestine guests. The silence was punctuated by the occasional crackle of the fireplace, adding to the room’s ominous atmosphere.
The door creaked open, and Malchior Der Naves entered, followed closely by his master Mirkir the Wyze and General Heraclez. The wizened Mirkir, ancient yet hale, bore a flowing white beard and eyes that burned with zealous fervor. His robes were of the darkest shade of black that they made it appear as if the old Drokka was more a part of the shadow world than the living. He walked with a staff that seemed almost too heavy for his frail frame. Yet Hecla could feel there was an undeniable power in Mirkir’s presence and she wondered if this was part of the High Priest’s magnetism that had captured the heart and soul of her brother Hacktor.
[You’ll remember that, after Hacktor was discovered to have Krangor’s Mark, it was Mirkir who had served as Hacktor’s personal guide into the depths of the Drokka Religion. As a royal Balkery, Hacktor was assumed to be gifted beyond even Mirkir himself (although The Wyze One’s pride refused to truly accept this). As duty required, Mirkir had helped Hacktor communicate with The Spirit of The Well of Wyzdom (yours truly!). Yet Mirkir happily went beyond the call of duty by making Hacktor his Beloved. The old priest made Hacktor believe ‘the faith’ also required that unsavory ‘duty’ too, but in reality it was because the lecher wanted to further force his dominance over the boy. (Since this fit my own plans I allowed the Mirkir to despoil Hacktor to his heart’s content – as you can imagine, being the sex slave of a disgusting gnome like Mirkir during his early teenage years wasn’t that much fun for Hacktor and it permanently damaged the boy’s psyche (exactly as I’d hoped it would)].
After Mirkir came General Heraclez, a towering figure clad in dark leathers, who exuded an air of stern authority; yet when Hecla looked deeper she could see there was vice within his visage. She also noted that Heraclez’ chiseled features and stern expression spoke of a man who had seen combat galore – yet the princess knew all of Heraclez’ battles were covert affairs unsanctioned by the crown. When he looked towards her, Hecla saw a spark of bitterness in his eyes and she wondered, Does the general blame me for my father passing over him years ago?
[You’ll recall I mentioned Heraclez previously – it was the general who taught the Hacktor about the art of war during his formative years in Iztak – bestowing Hacktor with confidence and power. This helped Haraclez win Hacktor’s respect and loyalty. Yet Heraclez also played a part in despoiling Hacktor too – introducing him to wasteful vices like wine, women, and wagering].
“Hecla,” Mirkir nodded to the princess while giving his staff to Malchior as he took a seat at the table. His voice was gravelly from days of travel thru the Byways. “I assume you have made my visit worthwhile?”
Hecla nodded, “Indeed. As you’ve heard from Malchior, The Priory is finally about to strike.”
Mirkir’s eyes gleamed with a fanatical light. “Baldur’s disregard for the gods will be his undoing. I have seen the signs, and you are right to say the time is near.”
Hecla turned to Heraclez. “And you, General, are about to get your just rewards. When Hacktor takes the throne, you’ll elevation will follow.”
Heraclez’s jaw tightened, and he nodded. “I have trained Hacktor, instilled in him the art of war. He respects me, and I know he’ll right the wrongs of your father..”
Hecla’s lips curled into a sly smile. They’re playing right into my hands. This is almost too easy. Unable to resist, she coyly said, “We all hold power over Hacktor. Mirkir, you were his guide into the depths of the Drokka religion. You twisted his faith to suit your desires, and in doing so, you scarred him deeply. Hacktor won’t forget those scars, but you know as well as I that those wounds can be used to our advantage.”
Mirkir’s expression darkened, uncertain how to react. “The faith requires sacrifice. The boy was mine to mold, and mold him I did.” And with a sinister grin he parried, “From what I’ve heard, princess, you have since molded Hacktor as well.”
Rather than be embarrassed as the call-out, Hecla instead smiled – boldly. For Mirkir had walked into her trap by revealing his hand. After Hacktor had returned to court, it didn’t take long for Hecla to incite Hacktor’s lust — and to satisfy it (many times over) – thus giving Hecla more power over the future king than anyone else!
I’ve taken Hacktor away from you, old one, Hecla eyes gleamed as she stared at Mirkir. And now you have admitted that you know it to be true. Her gaze intensified with the High Priest until at last Mirkir feigned a cough and took his eyes away.
Her hidden agenda accomplished, Hecla carried on the obstensive reason for the meeting. “When Baldur is gone, together, we three are in the best position to manipulate Hacktor to serve our purposes. But first, my father must indeed be gone.”
Having filed away the princess’ parlay for another time, Mirkir showed no outward signs of his anger. Instead the old Drokka leaned forward, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Our priests have sown the seeds of doubt and discord within the kingdom.”
Hecla nodded. “And what of the Iztak Guard, Heraclez? Are they ready to fulfil their mission?”
Heraclez’s eyes gleamed with determination. “When the time comes, they will follow my orders without question.”
Hecla’s smile widened. “With the cabal’s blessing, and our alliance, everything is in place to take down my father – nothing can stop the events from unfolding.”
The meeting continued for a time, with each conspirator sharing their plans and strategies, but it was largely a mundane affair.
As the night wore on, Hecla’s sense of satisfaction. She had aligned herself with powerful allies across many layers, and together, she was certain they would bring about the change she desired. The fate of the kingdom hung in the balance, Hacktor would become the king, but it was Hecla who still had the most to gain – and soon enough the world would know it!
The Apocrypha of Azazel 