XXXVII. DE-URS

  De-Urs bridged the divide between the rocky hills of Ironore and the infertile sands of Ker. It was a work town— home to the fifth legion— and rows upon rows of cramped labor quarters. The town was dirty, tramped upon, completely devoid of hope or soul. Its legate was waiting for them on the steps of a decaying one story municipal building. De-Urs’ legate was gluttonous, his jowls framing his sneering lips. Balding blonde hair lay flat atop Silius’ unevenly shaped head. His eyes were cloudy— as if the frequent sunlight had burnt his irises straight off.

  Silius kissed their knuckles, followed by the members of his cohort. He bowed from the waist and gave an exaggerated flourish to the bounty of tribute. “My Emperor, it is a considerable honor to welcome you and your most respected Triumph to De-Urs. We are humbled by your presence and honored to give you our greatest hospitality.”

  An hour later, Asho’s opinion of Silius’s hospitality was that it was dreadfully abhorrent. The quarters he had been shown too were little more than a soldier's barracks, and the modest feast held in the mess hall was as flavorless as it was dry. Asho dunked his rye bread into his chalice— wondering if everything he was expected to eat over the following months would taste so granular.

  Kerai slaves stood rigidly against the far wall. Their eyes constantly darted to their table and then back to the floor. Asho stabbed his attention into the kerai man holding the pitcher— attempting to cast his fears, but the man’s hatred and resentment wrecked off of him so palpably that even the most lumped brained soldier could sense it.

  “I was saddened to hear about the legendary legate’s passing.” Legate Silius said beside the Conqueror. “Did they ever learn of the manner of his death?”

  Asho stopped chewing, curious as well.

  “My heir has gone to investigate if his demise could have been related to a rebellion.” The Conqueror said shortly.

  “Hya? The Kerai rebel?” Silius sneered. Silius snapped his jeweled hand and the slave with the pitcher approached the dias. He topped off the tables challaces- his hands trembling.

  Asho met the slave’s eyes for a fleeting second. He wants us dead. Asho thought.

  “Go now mutt.” Silius ordered. He sneered over his cup as the man retreated. “They scurry away so quickly.”

  “As they should.” The Conqueror pressed his fingertips together. His eyes were hard. “IT is by my mercy alone their kind still exists.”

  “And they have such use to your glorious empire, your excellency. They follow so easily once you break them in.”

  Asho raised an eyebrow at the Legate's caustic condonation. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Why, the kerai are little more than vermin prince. This nonsense of the kerai rebellion? Hya.” Silius waved his hand dismissively. “The brutes don’t have the intelligence to plan and execute such a mission.”

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  “It seems foolhardy to underestimate your enemy so unilaterally.” Asho said— his gaze returning to the shackles slaves at the end of the room. “The kerai held off the empire for a decade.”

  “Indeed.” The Conqueror intoned and Asho basked in the pleasure of his agreement.

  “The master is a slave when he fears those he rules.” Silius said. “I assure you, the fifth legion has the dogs under control. The kerai would never dare revolt, and truly, the mines dispose of them so quickly. You’ll see tomorrow my prince, you’ll see.”

  The quarries were situated a league off from De-Urs. Legate Silius led the Conqueror, his council, his centori, and Asho down a steep trail to the base of the massive pit. Legionnaires whipped at the kerai laborers, yelling at them to move faster. Asho heard the faint— frantic whispers in kiyr as they hiked to the bottom. Asho was horrible at language, but even he could get the gist. It’s him. The Conqueror is here.

  “The legion has the kerai working on two twelve hour rotations. Seven days a week.” Silius explained. “Either from dawn to dusk or dusk to dawn. Our foreman mix up assignments often so the slaves fail to have the opportunity to fraternize. This quarry— along with the others under my jurisdiction are among the most productive in the Empire.” Silius said with pride. “After all, work conquers all.”

  Screams broke from one of the nearby passages. A kerai man— head to toe in alabaster white dust, barreled towards them at full speed. He waved a pickaxe overhead. A legionnaire turned too slowly as the metal embedded itself into his neck.

  “Kill him!” Silius ordered. The surrounding legionnaires ran towards the commotion, drawing their swords. THe slave brought his fingers to his lips and whistled.

  “Ambush!” Asho warned. The quarry erupted into chaos. Asho took a step in front of the Conqueror and drew his sword. The Conqueror’s centori encircled them in a tight formation.

  The kerai had managed to disarm his guards and run towards the Conqueror. He extended his arms above his head. “For the Goddess and her Ten!” He cried. Asho gasped as his arms burst with hair, his hands transforming into sharp claws. A centori stepped forward as the hyena lunged, thrusting his spear upward.

  “Contain the uprising!” The centori threw the dead hyena aside. Half of their ranks broke away to assist the outnumbered legionnaires as dozens of kerai laborers ran down the pit towards them. Some armed with pisces, others baring their teeth.

  Asho swung his sword in time as talons extended for his throat. The prince rolled away from the diving eagle. He cut off the head of a lunging snake. Elsewhere, the Conqueror held the wyrdstone aloft, severing the aker’s from their bodies. He killed any who came into his path instantly. A circle of limbs— both human and animal littered his feet. Horns extending from skull and ears; wings splitting from twisted spines.

  Asho grabbed Silius roughly by the elbow as the man tried to weasel away. Asho threw the heavier man into the dirt. The Legate raised his ringed hands in subjugation as Asho pointed his sword at his throat. “You call this under control?” He demanded as the screams of the fighting echoed off the quarry’s walls.

  “Please prince! This is merely the actions of a rogue few.”

  “This is a riot. An assassination attempt.” Asho growled.

  “Please, spare me!”

  The Conqueror loomed overhead, the wyrdstone clenched tightly in his fist. “You dare beg for your life. You allowed these festering rats to conspire under your very nose while you grew plump and lazy.” The Conqueror turned to Asho. “What should we do with him, prince?”

  Asho’s ears hummed with anger. Silius had allowed the kerai to get within paces of the Conqueror. His arrogance had allowed them to conspire. To attempt an assassination. There was no forgiveness for a mistake that perilous. No Ashenian mercy to extend. The legate had betrayed the empire. “He dies.”

  “He dies.” The Conqueror agreed, and cleaved.