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    Topher Lydon
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Sigil of the Wolf - 31. Chapter 31

Fanatics rarely exist in reality, but they can sure screw it up for the rest of us.

~General Riley 'Penned on a dispatch from Karin.'

Karin City - Karin

The aide wore Karin Colours, fusiliers' from his Mackenzie tartan trews and feathered beret badge, traditional to any that served in the distinguished unit. It marked him as one of Colonel Churchill's men. He stood uneasily in the presence of the young Imperial Prince as he offered a tight, crisp salute.

"Your Highness, Colonel Churchill wishes to inform you that General Iver has summoned a war council." The aide stated resonantly.

Edward looked unsettled a moment, resting his hand on the door to his suite, thinking. Iver was holding a council session to discuss war, setting the direction of the Empire and making decisions in Edward's name, yet excluding Edward from the decision-making process altogether.

That had to stop.

He looked at the two Wolves flanking his doors, resting on heavy machineguns, there to ensure that the Prince didn't leave. He wondered how far their orders extended; he was willing to bet they went only so far.

He paused long enough to grab his grandfather's watch from where it sat on his end table, hooking it to his belt as he slipped it into his pocket... for luck...

They didn't stop him as he marched with the fusilier, and Edward could feel the anticipation in the air around him; there was revolution in the air and he could sense it. It was written on the faces of the senior Karin officers that regarded him as he passed. Simple looks and nods that they gave, reaffirming their loyalties to their Prince without alerting the pair of Wolves that clanked along behind him.

There were a disproportionate number of Churchill's men in the halls, relieving the guards and taking up posts. All of them were slapping pulse rifles to their shoulders instead of the customary parade carbines as they saluted his passage. Edward noted it as he walked, glad that the Wolves seemed unaware of the net closing about them.

He tried to keep his face neutral, marching through the halls as they climbed to the main audience chambers. Iver was about to learn a harsh lesson in what it meant to rule.

He'd chosen, deliberately, to wear the simple black waistcoat over white shirt, sleeves rolled up, exactly the way his grandfather had done when attending court after the transcendence of the Emperor. Whilst others clung to their Imperial trappings, uniforms underneath the greatcoats that were their symbols of power, the senior VonGrippen had proven that it didn't take a greatcoat and a uniform to make a Highlord.

Edward adjusted the black tie, taking a moment to button the vest, resetting the silver pocket-watch in his pocket. It was a clean, clear look, one that would clearly show not just the military men in the room, but the whole of the Empire, that the armed forces were there to serve and not to dictate rule.

He marched towards the great doors, taking a deep breath as he rested the flats of his palms against them, pushing them aside as he marched in.

"Did you forget something, General Iver?" Edward demanded, walking past the guards who hesitated to stop him from entering the council chamber.

General Iver stood at the head of the table, reading through the latest battlefront reports, pausing as he looked up and along council table. Around him his officers turned their heads as well, each of them suddenly wishing they were elsewhere. The only one at the table bemused by the Prince's sudden entrance was Walker.

He sat apart from the table, in a simple wooden chair positioned in such a way to make it clear that while he attended the meeting he would have no part of the conference of Colonels and Captains.

"This is a council of war..." Iver began, frowning at the young Prince, trying to look intimidating while remaining polite in front of the men that supported him.

"And you sought to hold it without me," Edward stated, his young voice keeping his tone even, walking up to the table and picking up a sheaf of papers that outlined the meeting's agenda. He glanced over it and up at Iver. "You have increased war production past capacity?" His eyes narrowed as he scanned over the paper, his hand tightened rumpling the sheet, and when he spoke his anger steeped his voice, "And you are forcing conscription?"

Edward shook his head slowly advancing down the table, not even bothering to hide his rage, "And you thought to exclude me from this meeting?"

"With due respect, your Highness..." Iver began, preparing to lecture the upstart boy about war.

"He felt it prudent not to inform you," Walker chimed up from his seat, smiling charmingly over at the General, "Something about you not being interested in such things, if I recall the conversation he had with me when I voiced similar concerns."

"Really?" Edward said, tapping the papers against his hand, his eyes flashing dangerously, "I fear that the General is very much mistaken. When it comes to the Empire and to my people I am very interested." Edward walked around the table, the collected military officers turning their heads to watch him pass.

Edward drew to a stop at the head of the table where Iver was standing. "I believe you are in my chair." He said, his tone brokering no quarter.

Iver's eyes tightened as he looked around the table at the quiet and stony faces of the Colonels. None of them dared to look up, nor show any kind of support for the General. He felt the sudden sting of standing alone, and bowed his head as he stepped aside, glaring over at Colonel Evans who sat further down the table. He strode down the table to the only open place at the far end.

The Colonel shifted in his chair, watching as the General settled in, both men sitting in silence waiting for the Prince to begin.

Edward took a deep breath as he sat down in the large chair, adjusting it as he pulled it forward, settling in and getting comfortable. "Now then," he said, looking down the table at the collection of military officers, "The first thing I am going to do is to restore war production to a manageable level, and revoke the conscription orders..."

"Your Highness!" Iver protested, standing up angrily, as the officers around the table murmured, looking at each other, a rumble of discontent from the war hawks in the room.

"Shut up, Colonel!" He snapped. Edward looked up at the man adjusting his chair again.

"He's a General, your Highness," Walker ventured tentatively.

"Is he?" Edward asked innocently, reading over the papers in front of him, "I might have to correct that." He focused his attention again on the seething General, his voice cold like steel, "that is, if he dares to interrupt me again."

Walker beamed warmly as he pulled his chair forward to join the table. "You know, suddenly this meeting has become interesting."

Iver collected his papers, snapping shut his document case and marching towards the doors. A couple of officers rose to follow him. Edward was careful to note who chose to rise.

Edward looked past him at the guards. "I didn't give him permission to leave."

The guards hesitated again, stepping up uneasily to block the General's path, and Iver fixed each of them with a hard glare. "Get out of my way!" he commanded.

The guards stepped back, torn between their loyalties.

Walker leaned forward. "You just backed the General into a corner," he murmured, watching the General and his loyalists marching from the chamber.

Edward looked around him at the senior military officers who had remained behind, senior Karin officers that had served alongside the General on the Imperial front. Each of them looked to him expectantly, loyal soldiers ready to serve their Prince.

Edward nodded, "I want a message sent to Captain Zoran's faction. House VonGrippen should be represented at this table, the Taïrians and Kardiac as well, as soon as they are available." He shuffled papers and examined them. "And I want a comprehensive battle plan for the defence of the Empire," he held up Iver's plan, "One that doesn't involve bankrupting us in the process." He tossed the useless documents back onto the table. "And someone explain to me why we have so many Osterburg Hunter-Killers in orbit when our front lines are buckling under the strain of Amsus pressure? Get them redeployed..."

* * *

"You could simply fade away," Evans ventured, sitting at the table, spinning his service automatic that he had laid there. He wasn't about to sit in a room alone with the General unarmed.

"I am not going to allow some upstart construct," he spat the word, "undo everything I have worked so hard to create." Iver stood at the table; his books neatly arranged around him, his hand resting upon a tome of military procedures. "You were supposed to encode this construct to obey me."

Evans crossed his legs, still spinning the pistol on the table surface. "I had orders that superseded yours."

Iver frowned. "Whose orders superseded mine?"

"His," Evans nodded behind the General, deeper into the personal suite.

Iver turned, and backed up a full step from the man standing calmly in the blood-stained shirt. He hadn't been in the room a moment ago. The General's hand reached for the pistol tucked under his arm.

Evans brought his own up and clicked the hammer back. "Mister Denver is here to help you, General." The red dot of the laser sight danced on Iver's forehead.

"Denver?" Iver frowned, looking at the stranger, recalling all the news reports about the director of the Orion Corporation, "How?"

Denver shook his head, keeping a warm smile on his face. "That is irrelevant, General. All that matters is that you have an ally in a time when every one else appears to have deserted your cause."

"What the hell could you possibly offer me?" Iver demanded.

"A new Immortal Emperor." Denver stated calmly. "And the industrial capacity to fight the war you so desperately need." He smiled with a satisfaction as he reached out to take the General's arm, "You need to act quickly, before the young Prince can cement his power base." He produced a long black crystalline device from a case he was carrying and spun it through his fingers.

"He's right," Colonel Evans insisted, "Edward will send for Captain Zoran. This could go very badly for the Empire, and for you, if they are allowed to unify the factions against you."

"You're advocating what?" Iver demanded suspiciously eyeing the crystal, "That I launch a coup against the Prince I set into power?" He picked up a book and levelled it at Denver, "With the blind support of a businessman in a blood stained suit?"

Denver smiled, laying the black crystal shard down on the table. "Do you know what this is?" he asked quietly, forcing Iver's attention on the rod as he slid it across to him.

Iver stared at it a long moment, black and dully reflective, like the mausoleum that had become VonGrippen's tomb amidst the lost fleet. He caught a flicker of light that flowed from one end to another lighting hieroglyphs that changed the more he stared at them.

"It's Polian..." Iver muttered.

"That's a common mistake," Denver said, gesturing to the crystal and walking around the table to rest a reassuring hand on Iver's shoulder, "Few people know where the Polians obtained their technology, so they aren't aware of the Peligian legacy." He switched shoulders leaning in to speak directly into the General's ear, "The Polians bastardise Peligian technology in much the same way the Amsus do with Imperial technology." He nodded down, "No, this belonged to the Immortal Emperor."

Iver reached down and lifted the device, studying it closely. "And how is this trinket supposed to help me?"

"It contains bloodroot," Denver smiled, "A powerful and deadly poison."

He watched in delight as Iver dropped the crystal like it was a deadly snake. "What the hell do you want me to do with that?" Iver demanded, shocked.

"You simply need to press it against the Prince's forehead; it will deliver a significant dosage." Denver walked up to the edge of the table.

"It'll kill him." Iver replied, his heavy brows staring at the crystal, and over at Evans.

"It might," Denver admitted as he walked back across the room towards the great windows, "But if he is strong enough to survive, it'll begin his transcendence." He stopped and turned back, "And history has taught, whoever acts as the voice of the Immortal Emperor rules the Empire." Denver smiled, showing his teeth. "Be that voice, restore the Empire to what it once was, and give it back its symbol of power."

Iver reached down for the crystal, his fingers closing about it. "Arrest Zoran the moment he touches down," he commanded Evans.

* * *

"That was a dangerous play," Walker said as the last of the Military officers filed from the room, each with specific orders and glad of the direct leadership, at last, from someone who was thinking about something other than his own blind ambition.

Edward stood from the broad oak table taking a moment to pour himself a cup of coffee from the serving tray. "I need to establish who is in control here," he explained adding sugar, "The people are wondering what is going on in the wake of the destruction of the Senate, and Iver's heavy-handed, ham-fisted tactics have pushed us to the brink of a civil war."

"And you believe there won't be one?" Walker asked, leaning round in his chair. "Iver isn't going to like being deposed by his own puppet..." Walker hesitated, frowning, "My apologies, I didn't mean to imply..."

Edward shook his head waving off the apology. "I understand what you mean, Walker, but I cannot simply arrest General Iver with so many of his supporters in the city. He hasn't done anything to openly oppose me, and while those that follow him are uncertain, arresting him for no reason would only solidify their support behind him again."

"You're hoping to push him into doing something rash," Walker mused, realizing Edward's ploy, "You're baiting him so that you can arrest him."

Edward drew the silver pocket watch from his pocket and flipped it open. "The General should be gauging the level of his support, and my orders to re-deploy his fleet should ensure he feels the pressure of time being against him."

"You're gambling a lot on how the military view you," Walker said thoughtfully, "They could side with Iver."

"Iver has done one thing consistently from the start of all this, and that is make it clear that I am the Prince and it is my right to rule." Edward turned his head and smiled tightly, "Let's hope that that his men actually listened to him."

"I think I owe you an apology," Walker said quietly, "When I first met you I assumed you were nothing more than a construct... another blonde-haired, pre-programmed..." he stopped and shook his head, "I underestimated you."

Edward shook his head. "I learned a lot from the people on Karin, about what I am in their eyes." He shrugged, "I guess I underestimated myself as well."

* * *

Captain Zoran's shuttle was a modified blockade runner, a heavily modified drive system on a complicated and heavily armoured chassis. It bristled with a pair of door-mounted auto-masers manned by severe looking crewmembers dressed in what had once been Imperial uniforms before the former pirates had gotten a hold of them.

'VonGrippen's Privateers' written in large red painted letters over the doors made their allegiance clear as the heavy assault vessel swung about, positioning to land on the upper landing platform, a pair of SAW armed crew men jumping down to the snow, keeping the doors covered as the shuttle landed. The former pirates, all too used to double-crosses, were ready for anything.

Zoran hitched his leather jacket closed as he walked across the platform, the defacto head of the renegade fleet, and acting in Darien's absence on behalf of House VonGrippen. His men had taken to the reds and the falcons; something about VonGrippen's legacy appealed to people bred to lives on starships.

He stared down the Karin Guardsmen, trying to block his passage into the fortress, and relaxing only a little as they stood aside to let him into the structure. His crew accompanied him, a dozen of his best, and a recent new recruit followed, a few of them daring the guards to say anything to the motley bunch of armed men who made their way inside.

The Military Intelligence Colonel who stood waiting for them in the entrance hall, one hand braced in his pocket, the other resting easily at his side, appeared unarmed. Zoran's instincts screamed trap, as he came to a halt across the round vaulted chamber.

"Welcome back to Karin," Colonel Evans greeted, still not moving, studying the men, "I have looked forward to this..."

The Wolves swung around the support pillars, their heavy barrelled machineguns slapping into their hands as they trained on the collection of privateers gathered in the hall. Each of the weapons was cocked and ready to gun down the first person to move without Evans's permission.

"You!" Zoran snarled, turning back to Evans, "Prince Edward sent for us."

"I am sure he did, however," The Military Intelligence officer smiled coldly, "I am here with an escort, compliments of General Iver."

Around him, his men tensed, itching for him to give them an order to start shooting, confident that they would be able to take the Wolves that surrounded them. But the old Captain exchanged a glance with his bosun, shaking his head; it wasn't the time to fight, not yet.

He pulled his pistol from his belt, turned it over and relinquished it to the smirking Colonel. He wasn't about to waste the opportunity Colonel Evans was providing them with.

"You're going to die in a most painful way," Zoran said as the Colonel accepted the pistol.

"I don't think so," Evans replied, meeting Zoran's gaze and holding it, "I'm not the one under arrest."

* * *

Colonel James Churchill stood stock still before General Iver's table as the insane General issued his orders. Decreeing, in his feverish state, that the entire city of Karin enter a state of lockdown. Ranting about how swift strikes would put a stop to the uprising against his legitimate rule.

The Colonel, Commander of the Royal Karin Fusiliers, stood with a spreading sense of dread as he passed a look from his General to the wolfish looking man in the unadorned black Imperial uniform standing a few steps behind him, stepping forward every few moments to whisper a 'reminder' into the General's ear. Like a marionette, the General repeated the words verbatim.

He nodded his head and took notes, aware of the fanatical light in the General's eyes that didn't sit right with the Colonel. He had known Iver a long time, served with him in the guard before the new Empire, and fought with him tirelessly on the battlefront to gain every inch of ground they had earned. But that had been Iver the warrior; Iver the fanatic was little more than a feral animal.

A rabid dog that had to be put down.

The Colonel saluted, accepting his assignment. They were clear; he was being given command of the regular forces and discretionary command of the Osterburg fleet. His objectives were to disable the VonGrippen ships in orbit... He was to issue the orders that were to start an Imperial civil war, and solidify Karin rule once and for all.

As he marched from the General's private suites, he contemplated what it meant. Control had slipped through Iver's fingers and he had made the classic mistake of trying to close his fist. For the greater good, Iver had started with noble ideals, but had descended into a political mire that had pulled down the once great man. Colonel Churchill wasn't about to let the General destroy the Empire he had worked so hard to build.

Churchill had hoped he wouldn't be forced to betray a friend, but what he had seen in that room wasn't the man he called a friend. He pulled his TAC-link from his belt, issuing orders for his senior officers to meet him along the way. He would have to move quickly; if Evans was arresting Captain Zoran then it was only a matter of time till shooting started.

His officers met him, donning their tactical gear as they marched, one of them handing a submachine gun to the Colonel as he led them down into the reinforced sections of the palace. The paused when a troop of fusiliers under an officer loyal to him appeared.

"Find Walker," Churchill ordered tersely. "Put him under guard, no one is to get near to him."

The Fusiliers sprinted off, a sense of urgency knowing that it was down to them to secure their Archduke and protect him from attack. Boots hammered the stonework as they rushed up the stairs towards the council chambers.

Colonel Churchill continued his descent, lifting his pulse rifle, and checking it. He wasn't what anyone would call a beautiful man, far from it, but if they were going to remember his valiant last stand, he hoped they'd embellish a little. He inclined his head to the men around him; they knew what he needed of them, they knew what was at stake. Words weren't needed; they would do their duty for their Prince.

Wordlessly they fanned out around him as he marched down the corridor and into the Fortresses Tactical Command Center, pointing back behind him as he sprayed the ceiling with a burst of rifle fire, unsuspecting officers and specialists ducking as his men started to grab them and herd them towards the doors, relieving them of their weapons as they went.

"Seal it," Churchill commanded, pointing towards the massive reinforced blast doors, picking up a tactical headset as the men around him sealed and secured themselves inside. For the time being the Command Centre, and through it the entirety of the Imperial Armed forces was squarely under his command.

"Sir, we're online," one of his Captains reported, activating the tactical boards.

"Very good," Churchill said, eyeing the disposition of Karin troops, most of them hand-picked by General Iver, secure in their positions ready for a potential coup. The Wolves were on the move, meaning that Iver had already set his plan into motion.

The Colonel eyed his officers, considering his moves carefully, "Start issuing orders for key units to pull out of the city." He studied the map walking round it to get a better vantage, his hand sliding over his jaw as he put his pulse rifle aside; if he could convince Iver's more fanatical battalions to withdraw from the city, he'd force the General to rely solely upon his Wolves. It was a delicate game of chess, and he wouldn't have long until someone would try to activate the urban units directly, he needed to ensure they were far enough away...

"Sir," Commander Reznek, a senior fleet officer, one of those that had remained at the Prince's table, took his place alongside the Colonel. "I'm issuing orders to dispatch the Osterburgs to the Gorean Border, executing emergency jumps."

Churchill clapped him on the shoulder, glad that someone had thought to deal with the deadly pack of sharks that circled the VonGrippen House fleet. With them gone it would level the playing field, leaving the heavier capital ships free to deal with the Karin fighter squadrons Iver would call upon next.

The Osterburgs began to execute jumps on the orders of the Imperial command centre as the officers of the Royal Karin Fusiliers set to work. The Colonel swept off his jacket and leaned forward to study the map. "They're going to know we're here lads, lets see if we can't cause as much havoc and mayhem we can while we are."

* * *

The dripping water was ice cold, running along the green slimy surface of the stone as it pooled and dropped with an audible splat to the floor by her head. She watched it with unblinking eyes as the ripples reverberated and trembled with each ragged breath she took.

She lay alone in the darkness, the straw palate doing nothing to comfort her as she stared, curled into a ball, resting her head against the concrete wall. She hadn't moved, hadn't cried... she just lay there in her catatonic state, abandoned now that she was no longer of any worth to Colonel Evans.

She was locked into her own memories, reflecting on her choices, and how her world had come crashing down around her.

They were supposed to have killed her, not leave her to rot in the frigid cell, dreaming of the last few precious moments with her husband. Praying silently that Luther had made it, and that he was safe.

She didn't look up s the door opened, the flash of legs, a couple of Wolves clanked inside the holding cell, directing people inside. More guests of the twisted Colonel's vanity, yet more 'rebels' to suffer at his hands.

She heard him first, Captain Zoran kneeling down in front of her, passing his hand in front of her eyes. His bushy eyebrows knotted worriedly, as he said something she couldn't hear.

She felt her heart sinking inside her chest, as hope began to die.

"Major," Zoran sat down on the floor beside her as the Wolves marched out again, closing the door and locking it behind them. "Major," he touched her arm gently trying to shake her back to reality.

"Mum?" One of his crewmembers asked, kneeling beside her and pulling off the low cap he was wearing. Luther scrubbed a hand through his messy hair and gave her a reassuring smile. "Come on mum, wake up?"

She stared at him, on some level his voice touched her, her baby, she blinked her eyes, staring at her son, rubbing her stinging eyes to make sure he was real, reaching out to touch his face, before she pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Mom!" he whined playfully, "Not in front of the pirates!"

Zoran smiled at them both. "Your son is major pain in ass, just like mom. He would not take no for answer. Insisted he come, be hero."

She opened her eyes and looked at the robust Captain. "So that's it, then?" she said bitterly.

"No," Zoran replied cheerfully, getting up and walking to the door, glancing at the two Wolves flanking the doors and turning back, "It's not first time in cell." He jerked his head to one of his men who slipped off his jacket, taking care to glance towards the door as he tore the lining out of it, pulling out the carefully packed strips of explosive secreted there.

Major Malone sat upright, looking at the strips that they were applying to the doorframe, shaking her head. "You don't have a detonator."

The inventive pirate Captain winked at her as he fiddled with the collar insignia, detaching it and tossing it to one of his men. "Your father teach me this trick, when he escape from my brig," he smiled, firmly guiding her over to the far wall. "He teach me, if I be not stripping prisoners I be losing them."

The doors exploded.

* * *

"It's begun," Walker murmured as an alarm wailed somewhere in the palace.

There was the rush of feet in the corridor, first one way, then the other as soldiers rushed to their posts. Edward, sitting across from the Archduke still in the council chamber, nodded. "It had to, it's the only choice left open to the General."

"Darien would be proud of you," Walker said as he poured himself a drink from a flask he pulled from his coat pocket.

Edward took a long, deep sigh, looking towards the doors. His instinct was to run, do something. Iver's Wolves would be on their way to arrest them both. He stood up slowly and walked towards the window and tried to think of where he needed to be. "Tell me about Darien." He asked, looking back at the old Highlord.

"We don't have time..." Walker began as the doors crashed open. A group of Fusiliers rushed in to take up firing positions protecting the doors. Pulse rifles braced they were so few... a young officer snapped off a salute at the Archduke.

"Your Grace, Colonel Churchill asked us to ensure your safety," he reported as a couple of men flipped the large council table up onto its side, Walker's drink crashing to the floor along with the meeting papers and charts. Several of the troops dropped down behind it with their pulse rifles held at the ready.

Walker looked across at the young Prince. "It appears we may still have a few friends..."

"Captain Zoran?" Edward asked, looking at the Lieutenant.

The Lieutenant shook his head. "Colonel Evans ambushed them almost as soon as they landed, and I think he ordered them taken to the stockade."

"Where is that?" Edward glanced at Walker.

"Lower levels, near to the fortress's main reactors. It's deep, so secure..." Walker watched as Edward stood up. "Your Highness..."

Edward looked back down at the Archduke. "Someone has to get them out."

Walker shook his head firmly. "Your place is here your Highness, you are too important..."

Edward shook his head, "My place is out there," he nodded to the doors, "Putting a stop to this, the Wolves will listen to me."

Walker looked at him with trepidation, "Your Highness should..."

"My grandfather united the Apilon Rift against the Gorean by being brave enough to face down his enemies and offer them a chance to join him in fighting a greater threat." Edward squared his small shoulders, "I need to give the Wolves this chance."

"At least take an escort..." Walker insisted.

Edward shook his head, "I need to do this alone, and unarmed. They need to know I am not afraid of them."

"It's suicidal..." The Fusilier Captain spoke up interrupting the two men.

Walker shook his head, "No, he's their Prince." He inclined his head, giving Edward his blessing, "Good luck your Highness."

Edward smiled grimly, slipping through the doors and out into the cold halls, walking with a sense of purpose, glad to be out of the council room. Had he elected to stay a fight would be inevitable, and while defensible, it would only be a matter of time before the Wolves overwhelmed the guards. No, he was doing what his grandfather would do, keep people alive, to stop the war before it could begin.

He walked hurriedly down a broad flight of stairs, instinct causing him to pull back into the shadows as a group of Military Intelligence officers and guards ran past, barking orders at one another. He felt the instinctual fear that came with anyone associated with Colonel Evans. While he remained confident about the Wolves, he knew that there would be no saving the Grey men.

He waited until they had swept by, crossing the hall and ducking through the state dining room, the large ball room that... He paused, remembering the dashing fleet officer moving about the floor, looking up at him...

He smiled at the memory of Darien, the smile slipping as he wondered at it, that hadn't happened, had it? He shook himself, crossing to a far door to slip through it into the small alcove. The servants had a complex network of tunnels that ran throughout the fortress so that they could bring food from the main kitchens deep below. He checked the stairwell, ducking down it, making for the very depths of the Karin fortress.

Into the Wolves' lair.

Copyright © 2011 Topher_Lydon; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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