The Dark Duke sat at the end of a long, desolate table. In front of him was a large bowl of soup, a glass of wine, a basket of bread, and some arugula, all of which he was slowly devouring.
Behind him, off in a dark corner, stood a hulk of a man. He was a good eight feet tall, this giant, with enormous, bulging biceps, and the most massive of chest cavities. His head was big and bald, a distinct egg shape, widened at the top. His dress was simple: he wore whatever clothing could be found for him, and a large, thick black belt over it, specially made. He was not a cultured man, and was content in his job, watching over his new master with his arms folded over his chest. He would not have moved at all, had not the door swung open and Rahavi stepped into the room. The Dark Duke raised his hand, and the giant halted, stepping calmly back into his corner.
“My God!” Rahavi remarked. “What is this?”
“This,” said the Dark Duke, “is Kovloz…my new bodyguard.”
“Is he from my Squad?”
“No,” said the Dark Duke, shaking his head, “he’s from Theo. But he’s stronger than any of yours, I assure you.”
Rahavi looked the giant up and down. “I believe you,” he said.
“State your business,” the Dark Duke ordered, already growing weary of the conversation.
Rahavi recovered himself.
“I’ve been informed that one of Farv’s men is missing,” he said. “An Officer in your special Guard, actually, by the name of Barnes.”
“So?”
“So,” Rahavi continued, “this man was a loyal soldier – he would not have deserted. I fear that he may be dead.”
The Dark Duke ripped off a piece of bread and looked up at him. “What exactly are you saying?” he asked.
“An Officer missing means an Officer murdered,” Rahavi said, “and if there has been an Officer murdered, you can be certain that there is a rebellion afoot.”
“In Belsden?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The Dark Duke shrugged. “It must be Miglene, then,” he said, stuffing the bread into his mouth. “Don’t worry. He’s a vagabond. We’ll find him, I’m sure, and then we’ll make a good example of him.”
Rahavi was not relieved.
“I fear, Sire, that it may be worse.”
“Worse?” the Dark Duke questioned. “Worse how?”
“My men,” said the squad leader, “say that they have seen suspicious things. Men traveling the streets at night. Husbands taking leave of their wives. I fear that they may try something.”
“Ha!” cried the Dark Duke. “An attack you mean? Well, let them, then. Miglene has about as much chance as an ant in a pie-eating contest.”
Rahavi was silent.
“If you say so, Sire.”
The Dark Duke took a sip of his wine. He placed the cup back down on the table.
“Any word,” he asked, rather mundanely, “on when this supposed ‘rebellion’ is to take place?”
Rahavi shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, Your Highness.”
“No!” the Dark Duke snapped. “My guess is superior to yours! And my guess is that Miglene will wait for a day when all the country is gathered together…”
“I assume you refer to The Day of Pig…”
“Of course I refer to the Day of Pig, you idiot. When else?” the Dark Duke stopped in his eating and placed his elbows upon the table, slowly rubbing his hands together. “Very well, then,” he said, staring out at nothing in particular, “let’s hold off on sending those last few regiments to the border. Keep them here instead. And have Farv stay behind. I want them all added to the force guarding the palace. This way, if I’m right, we can ensure a complete and utter slaughter.”
Chapter 40
King Balfur