Fable - Ask Coiled Snakes[The Empire]

[Amar]

Amar did not give Medja a response, but simply bowed his head in feigned deference. When his head rose back up he offered her a smile, then looked at his sister. He seemed more than happy to comply with walking away, and he took half a step back.

Though as he went Amara spoke again.

"Empress?" He mused for a few seconds as he looked at his sister. "I wonder how the God-King would feel about such a title."

His gaze flickered not to Medja, not to Nym, but others about the room. Then he took another step back and offered a bow, though the action almost seemed sarcastic in a way. "I will see you, Dearest Sister. I think you will not have trouble finding me."

Amar swept into a turn and began to leave.

 

[Medja]

Many of the present Hands were practically chomping at the bit by now, visibly frustrated by the flagrant disrespect this newcomer had shown to their mistress. Rhix in particular couldn't help but begin letting out a low, rumbling growl. Perhaps what Amar had failed to realize was that these agents felt no love, loyalty, nor fear towards Gerra of Molthal. They lived, served, and shed blood only for Medja of Ragash.

For her part, Medja was conflicted. On one hand, she hated the way Gerra often acted, and she spat upon the tyranny that despots such as Emir Soleiman wrought upon their people. On the other hand, a ruler could not be weak, and Amar was not one of her people. Her memories turned to a day in the arena, when a gladiator had thrown a blade at the God-Emperor's head and the half-giant had leapt into the ring to answer the challenge. Such a personal intervention was overkill here, but the Emperor had the right idea after all.

The next few moments passed very quickly. Amar made his mocking gestures and turned to leave, Rhix clenched his fists and looked to his mistress for any sign of her approval, and the Vizier gave her Hand a silent nod. No sooner had she done so than Rhix let loose a roaring bellow and twisted towards Amar. The beastly brawler wrapped an enormous, clawed mitt wholly around the back of Amar's head, then brought a devastating right hook into the small of the prince's back. If he was still standing after that, Rhix would throw the boy with all his might into the floor before the door like so much refuse. The assault would've shattered the ribs and punctured the lungs of most men, leaving them battered, winded wrecks.

The other Hands observing shouted their approval, jeering at the prince and encouraging Rhix onwards, some even raring to join in. The Empress-to-be, however, raised a hand to bring her followers to order, and Rhix halted his advance.

"The God-King entrusted his Empire to me. He believed in my wisdom and guidance. To disrespect me is to spit upon the Emperor himself." Medja called out, projecting her voice with a level of authority that belied her beauty and relative petiteness. Her gaze fell harshly on Amar, stone cold and threatening, but not angry. "Count yourself fortunate that I am far more merciful than Gerra of Molthal, boy."

 

[Amar]

Amar coughed blood.

It was a brackish, almost unnaturally deep crimson liquid that spilled onto the floor as his head swayed for a few moments. He breathed deep, no air in his lungs after the strike from the monstrous man that had grabbed him and thrown him down onto the ground.

There had been no sound of crunching bones or broken ribs when he'd been struck. Strangely enough if Rhix reflected on it he would find his blows had almost moulded to Amar's form. It had hurt him of course, the blood spilled onto the floor an obvious sign of that.

A laugh echoed from his lips. "Of course."

The boy agreed with a smile, pulling himself up.

"The great and merciful Medja." A hand came up to wipe away the blood from his lips. "So secure in her position that she is threatened by the words of a fifteen year old boy."

Slowly he drew himself back up, though sure that he would not be allowed to stand. "What a mistake I made, simply speaking."

"I shall not let it happen again." He finished.

 

[Nym]

Dark brows furrowed at Amar's mention of Gerra. She couldn't help but sneer at the name, and she had been about to open her mouth to retort when Rhix strode forward. Nym didn't move. Her little brother had been asking for repercussion it seemed, and it seemed a lesson that needed to be learned the hard way. She glanced toward Medja, hoping that she would not allow Rhix to go too far.

He didn't, thankfully, and Nym's gaze narrowed at the sight of the dark blood sputtered on the floor. She groaned inwardly at the sound of amusement and her back stiffened. "Careful, Brother. You have absolutely no idea who you are dealing with, of that I'm sure, for if you did you'd throw yourself at her feet and beg her forgiveness.. I'd suggest you do that, or leave at once. I will not stand idly and listen to your insults against my Empress, nor do I have any desire to see my brother's skull spilled on the floor."

 

[Medja]

The Vizier took no pleasure in watching Amar be beaten, nor in watching him pick himself off the floor of the throne room. Neither did she feel any sort of remorse for allowing Rhix to teach him a lesson. As Ashuanar's darling sister and treasonous lieutenant were well aware of by now, Medja was capable of far, far worse. Still, it was marginally impressive that the boy had the resolve to pick himself up off the floor, defiant even as ichor dripped from his mouth.

"So secure in her position that she is threatened by the words of a fifteen year old boy."

For the first time since the young prince arrived, Medja actually laughed. By the Hundreds, this boy had more pride than he did sense. She shared Nym's glance and smiled reassuringly at the princess. Medja would not be serving any executions this day.
"Dear prince, if I thought you might be a threat you would've been thrown in a cell the moment you set foot in this city." She shot back with a sneer, already beginning to dismiss him. This impudent child had been given more than enough opportunities to relent; Medja doubted he would heed his sister's warning.

"I shall not let it happen again."

"For the sake of your life, your sister, and my floor, let us hope that's true." The Vizier replied plainly, thoroughly tired of this particular game. With a casual wave she signaled the Hands to remove Amar from the premises. She and Nymeasha did indeed have things to discuss, and her brother had overstayed his welcome.

Rhix grunted and shuffled in to snatch the boy up by the shoulder and begin escorting him out, though the croc was now slightly wary of the fact that his punch hadn't had quite the oomph he was expecting.

 

[Amar]

Amar did not offer any more comment, deciding that for now he had achieved what he'd desired.

Another press would likely see a blade through his heart, and even with the blessing of Nahss he would not survive that.

The massive reptilian grasped at his shoulder, pushing him fully up and dragging him from the throne room. His gaze flickered about for a brief moment as he wandered through the halls of the great palace, the taste of blood on his tongue.

As he and Rhix wandered out towards the front gate he smiled.

When the monster of a man finally let him go Amar offered a small thanks, a perhaps surprising gesture given that the beast had struck him in his side. He gave Rhix a short bow of his head, the deference a King might show a servant that had shown loyalty.

Then he stepped back into the crowd and disappeared.

A few gold coins spread around allowed Amar to find an establishment run by a Cortosi man, an apparently loud and boisterous fellow who took pleasure in his nature. There the young Prince found accommodations worthy of his station, or at least close enough.