Tyrant of the Ruined Sun-Chapter 181: Careful Plots and News from the South

The next couple of hours then passed in a haze of carefully, and slowly perfected schemes, before meticulously, near obsessively, crafting countermeasures in any case of failure or even mere deviation from the projected path, so that no matter what we would not be caught unaware, especially in an operation so utterly ridden with catastrophic threats and outcomes.

Yet despite our best efforts, I knew that not all threats and variables were accounted for, because they simply couldn't; and not due to failure or some form of short sightedness on our part, but a result of the fickle nature of divine intervention, sent in the form of dreams for the Nicholas to interpret.

No matter what we do, we can not be fully certain what revelations the Goddess of Ice and Winter would hand her descendant, nor will we know how much he will accurately decipher.

The Nicholas of my last life was an expert in this field, able to extract entire trains of events from a few fragmented and vague images, but the Nicholas before me today is not yet such a man, so the chance of him misunderstanding his ancestor's messages were also a high probability.

Either way, he still remains an incalculable variable; one I have to remove from the equation as fast as possible, before he eventually inevitably wrecks it; and luckily I had managed to quietly devise a far superior plan to be rid of his annoying presence, at least for a time.

My earlier idea of staging an assassination attempt against him to incriminate the Luminous Empire, thus by creating an unbridgeable gap between the two powers, was far too crude of a method to employ against men such Octavian, Marius and Mikhail; as each one of them would clearly see through such a scheme within minutes, and hoping that emotion bests the Frozen King's logic when he hears of his son's close call was not a gamble I was willing to risk.

This method also did nothing to further my secondary goal of straining the two's relationship, making Nicholas out to be an unreliable voice in his father's ear, so that should his son ever come to him with knowledge or advice gleamed from divine prophecy, he would promptly ignore or dismiss it.

An outcome that shall prove to be especially potent against him this early on, as unlike me, who has already solidified my rule over my nation, with my word akin to law, he is still nothing more than a crown prince, a position that all but guaranteed great power in the future, but one that provided little influence in the present, especially when your father and predecessor is someone such as the chillingly fearsome and ruthlessly competent Mikhail the first, the mighty Frozen King of the vast Boreas Empire; a seat he's firmly held since the days of my late grandfather, a time span that easily overshadowed the tenure of any other living monarch today.

So to achieve such a mouth watering outcome, I couldn't position Nicholas in any instance that would paint him in a favourable light, most of which as a pitiful victim of a failed assassination attempt; if anything, such a thing would only strengthen said bond if nothing else. No, to truly rupture the trust between the doting father and his beloved son, while also forever damaging the relationship of the two countries, I would need to implicate Nicholas, not the Luminous Empire, in a slew of dastardly deeds that would make even the devils weep, to wreak havoc in his name and watch him flounder incoherently to stop it.

'I will ruin you so badly, that I will even make he who loves you most on this earth, your own father, think of you as an incompetent and spiteful fool, who can do nothing but bring disasters upon his own head, let alone the other dignitaries and monarchs gathered here this year; so let's see then how you can marshal the world against me as you did in our past lives.' I thought sadistically, as several wicked scenarios played out across my mind.

Yet the issue remained that I would need more information if I were to enact this part of my plans, that I have left unsaid for the time being, though I doubted it would prove such a difficult thing now with Eve by my side.

So just as we finished our meeting, and she was about to depart to begin her silent task of covertly spying on the northern royal family, specifically awaiting for when the western offer would reach their ears, I asked her to keep a special eye on the Boreas crown prince, to which she calmly agreed, before she then vanished, sinking gracefully into shadow.

And though I felt saddened with her departure, my senses still yearning and famished for her presence, I was not so starved to pathetically hold her back, even if I did in fact wish to bind her to my side forever more.

Thankfully there was still much to occupy my waking mind this day, as I and the rest of my currently present members of my inner circle continued to strategize other plans on the matter of other headaches and problems we would soon be facing as well, such as the issue of who else to be wary of that the Luminous and Boreas Empires might try to bring to there side if all goes according to plan, yet we had to pause those talks when a member of the Shade Corps dressed as a servant came quickly to Isaac's side, and whispered a sentence that froze the ancient assassin's face into a glacial mask of grim worry.

An expression that forced us to halt and ask "What happened?"

A question to which Isaac replied instantly to with furrowed brows "A messenger from the empire arrived at the Astrapi Kingdom's borders three days ago, claiming to have brought grave news."

Our shock was nearly palpable, upon hearing his words, before I quickly asked "What sort of grave news?"

Isaac remained quiet for a moment, before uttering "We don't know, but sire..." He paused for a moment, before continuing "He's a mute."

Though his words sounded harmless on their own, their implications, to those who were knowledgeable, were truly immense.

I stayed silent for a moment, my mind churning painfully for a second, before I gravely asked "Then where is he now?"

"He has been successfully smuggled into the palace sire, we only need a few minutes to bring him here without detection." Isaac repeated what he just been told, before he quickly nodded to the servant who approached him a second ago; his meaning clear, as the woman rushed outside to deliver the messenger as fast as possible.

"He's already here?! Why weren't we informed earlier?!" Darius questioned, his voice betraying his anger at the moment.

"They rushed with him here when they realized his special identity." Isaac answered, and Darius had to calm himself upon hearing them.

The servant then exited the hall, the doors closed unnaturally loud behind her, as we all brewed in our silence for a few agonizing minutes, our minds manifesting worse illusions than what the reality would likely be, a fact we all knew but were helpless to stop, while pressure slowly continued to suffocatingly build with each rhythmic swing of the pendulum's decelerating dance.

Thankfully this torture was not long to last, as relief arrived minutes later on the back of two burly men carrying a wooden chest, which they promptly then carefully placed it in front of us, before they bowed and took their leave, departing as silently as they arrived.

Yet once gone, the servants rushed to unlock the crate to reveal the haggard looking messenger within, his tired eyes held atop a black swamp of fatigue and many a sleepless nights, that clearly attested to his weary self, meanwhile his hair was a matted mess after riding hard for so many weeks on the road, and though his clothes were not indecent, they were clearly worn out and battered, with several visible holes showing the sun skinned beneath, especially around his calves and knees.

Yet once he saw me, he leapt from his compromising position, with an energy none of us thought he had and knelt before me, performing a movement with his hands, that we all recognized to be a very special form of sign language.

"Hecatomb?" I asked to be sure, and the man nodded in response, before Isaac, who was a certified expert in the language, translated what he further expressed "He says that it's an honour to meet you sire, and that he was tasked with delivering this message to you by Grand Duke Haytham himself, as soon as possible."

I nod to him in thanks, but my mind was a scrambled mess of worry at this moment, for if a man such as him was tasked with such a seemingly mundane task, like letter delivery, then what sort of crisis must've happened for my uncle to view such a thing as necessary.

For this man before us was not an ordinary soldier or operative, but a member of an especially clandestine sect of the Shade Corps, the Hecatomb cohort, one that only accepted mute children into their ranks; their sole purpose being the completion of the most dangerous and impossible of operations, no matter the cost and where the probability of death or capture was a near certainty in most cases; which is why they are all mutes, so that they could never be compelled to divulge any secrets they may know in the event of capture.

Even the sign language they use to communicate is a unique one, especially devised solely for their use, with none other knowing how to speak it bar members of their order, and a few others among the hierarchy of the Shade Corps.

The mute man then began to rapidly to motion his hands and fingers in complex patterns, quickly relaying my uncle's message to us, with Isaac fully focused on his movements to not miss a single word, which further increased my unease the longer it went on, as my mind continued summoning more and more depraved answers to their incomprehensible exchange.

Once done, I impatiently asked "What did he say?!"

Isaac took a moment to compose his thoughts, before answering "Complications on the southern front."