Chapter 46: A High King, a King, and a Prince

Midnight. In one of the four tower tops of the main Academy building, two old men were sitting facing each other. Between them, a small table was placed with a chess board on top. The game had yet to start, but both of them were staring at it with utmost attention.

"What did you want to talk about, your Majesty?" The black robed old man's head was filled with black hair with strands of white among them. He did not have any facial hair but his brown eyes filled with wisdom belied his old age.

"How does it feel when I call you tower master?" The blond haired old man was wearing a royal robe of green and white. Unlike the one he was playing against, he had thick facial hair. His green eyes betrayed benevolence.

"Awkward, I guess." The black robed tower master moved a black piece forward, his eyes still on the board.

"That's how I feel when you call me 'your Majesty'." The green eyed old man moved one of his white pawns, his eyes yet to move from the board.

"Etiquettes. You are now the high king of this nation- not that hot blooded young prince anymore." Another black piece on the board moved.

"I command you then- call me how you used to." A white chess piece change its position.

"Tsk. Whatever. What do you want?" The tower master stomped a piece on the board. Thankfully, the board and pieces were made from refined crystals; else, it would have broken.

"Where did your etiquette go now? Anyways, about this recent kidnapping incident, I sense something fishy." A white knight jumped over the pawns.

"I know what you are thinking. I talked to Rastia about this matter." A black pawn moved two steps forward.

"What did she say?" The high king moved his bishop.

"She did not get into details. She just said 'As long as the right price is paid, he can be trusted'." The black haired old man removed one of the white pawns from the board and replaced it with his bishop.

"What does that mean?" The blond bearded high king castled.

"I don't know. I can only infer that as long as you pay him enough, he can do anything- even cut off his own fingers." The black bishop moved back to a safer position.

"As long as paid enough- isn't she afraid of betrayal?" Another white knight moved from its initial position.

"I asked her the same question. She only smiled wryly and added 'he thinks it's more fun making the weaker side win.'" The tower master mirrored his opponent's move, bringing out his own knight. "Speaking of the weaker side, I heard he is quite close to your granddaughter."

The high king, who was just about to place his queen on the board, stopped moving. "That's why I am worried." He sighed before placing the queen down. "Besides, I was surprised- you really decided to sacrifice instructor Nat Hemlin and force away the vice principal."

"Whatever the case, whether it was a scheme by that brat or not, one thing is constant- the fact that the vice principal and the instructor collaborated with foreign forces. The only reason I left the vice principal alive was because of his contribution in the previous war. I am sure he understood that. Let's get back to your topic. Do you wish to make him the next king?" The old man moved his bishop again, finishing one of the white pawns off.

"If he can make Evelyn the Queen, why not? I just hope the ones at Darkshore won't interfere again." The high king got his first kill. He removed one of the black pawns before moving the queen in.

"Ah yes. 20 years ago when I was the principal, she was already a monster. And now, I think even I can't defeat her. It's a shame you were not able to take her in as your daughter-in-law." The tower master moved the bishop, which had two kills, and trapped the white queen.

"A shame indeed. That Storm family would not let her go at any cost. Not only is she a monster, look at the son she bore- he might be even more of a monster than she is." The green eyed royal moved one of his own bishops to guard the queen.

"You are bent on making him the king, aren't you? Not only because his skills, but because of your vendetta against the Storms and Darkshore Kingdom." The tower master brought out his other knight.

"I would like to. But I can't. I am the high king after all; I can't be partial. But if he can make Evelyn win, I would be more than happy to have him as my grandson-in-law." Another white pawn was removed from the board.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you something." Finally, a bigger piece was ejected from the board; a white knight fell to the same piece of different colour. "He is a tier 5."

"WHAT!?" After long last, a pair of eyes moved its sight away from the board. The piece in his hand had yet to touch the board.

"And the ones he killed at the Shalborn forest were all level 6." The brown eyed old man stopped playing as well, but his eyes were still glued to the board.

"Why are telling that to me now?"

"I forgot." The tower master shrugged.

"You son of a bitch!"

"What? Calling your own mother-in-law a bitch?" He finally looked at his old friend/ brother-in-law.

"Ahem. Don't tell Nuha."

"If you grant ten thousand more high grade magic crystals to the Academy." He was emotionless.

"You!"

******

"Phew." Viper exhaled a long breath before opening the door.

*Creak*

The old and heavy door slowly opened.

"Viper?" A masculine voice entered his ears as an authoritative figure appeared in his sight. The man was sitting on a lavish throne, his head resting on his hand, his elbow resting on the golden armrest.

"It is I, your Majesty." He knelt down on one knee.

"What's wrong? I said you don't need to kneel when you encounter me."

"I bring terrible news, your Majesty." He stood up and approached the authoritative figure, the king, with a scroll.

The king frowned. "The plan failed, right?" He took the scroll from Viper.

He skimmed through the whole scroll. Viper, who was afraid of being suffocated to death, quickly moved away the moment the scroll was taken from him. But contrary to his expectations, the overwhelming aura did not hit him.

"The whole squad died?" The king asked.

"Yes."

"The report says that he was 'kidnapped' by a wind circler with a sensory property."

"Yes, but we had no such member in the squad. We suspect the 'kidnapper' to be Rosalyn Brigets."

"So, I was fated to face a fully grown monster." The man sighed.

"Your Majesty, once he leaves the Academy- I will deal with him personally."

"You, Viper, are one the best Assassins in the whole continent. That's why I did not want to belittle you by sending you to take care of that pest. But now, for the first time in years, I felt fear- a genuine fear of losing. I can't deny this emotion; please take care of this matter."

"I don't deserve this praise. You order, I kill. That's how it's supposed to be and that's how it will be."

"Good. What's the status of 'Instructor Becks'?"

"I suspect that he is under heavy suspicion and always under watch. He knows the protocol; he will stay low- for now."

"This is just a minor setback. Even though the Academy sector was vital, it was not obligatory. How are the other sectors?"

"No problems whatsoever. In fact, the most important sectors- The T1 alliance and Darkshore- are proceeding smoothly."

"Good job! You can leave."

The assassin bowed and left, leaving the king alone.

"Adrian Darkheart." He muttered as he closed his eyes.

******

"Aaaaaaaaaaaah!" A soul wrenching scream was followed by pin drop silence.

*Click*

The door opened. A young man who was in his early twenties walked out, all drenched in blood. A few orange strands could be seen amongst his blood dyed hair. His smile revealed his blood stained teeth.

Two emotionless maids moved forth with wet towels and began to wipe the blood off.

"Congratulations! your highness. You set a new record. You managed to keep her alive for 3 hours and 42 minutes during the 'procedure'." A moustached man with an hour glass in his hands stepped forth.

"She was a tough one. It's been long since I found someone enjoyable. But I am getting bored." The young man shook his head.

"Shall I bring another peasant?"

"That's the problem. I don't want any peasants anymore. Bring me a noble. One from a Baron family would suffice." He looked at his secretary with puppy orange eyes.

"That's a big no, your highness." The moustached secretary shook his head. "Nobles are the lifeblood of this nation- be it a duke or a baron."

"Tsk, you are no fun."

"Speaking of fun. I am sure this will interest you." The secretary brought out a scroll from his pocket before handing it to the young man.

He began to skim through without any interest. But at one part, he squinted and began to read each and every word with focus. His smile grew wider every second. By the time he finished reading it, he was grinning ear to ear.

"Adrian Darkheart, supposedly cut off his own fingers to achieve his goals. Interesting indeed, he might be like me. Great! I am not alone in this world! Hey, send me a few peasants tomorrow- you know the age range."

"16 to 24. Of course."

"And I also heard this Adrian Darkheart is connected to the the third princess. You don't have any problems if I 'do' her in front of him, do you?"

"Of course not! By nobles being the lifeblood, I only meant the nobles of this nation. Besides, what could be a better subject for a prince than a princess?"

"Perfect. Let's go, I am tired." He began to walk away. The maids, who had already wiped off the blood from his skin, followed.

The moustached man looked at the two other young maids at the scene. Unlike the emotionless two, their lips were trembling and legs were shaking.

"Clean it. You know what to do? Or else…" He smiled.

"No. We are on it." They hurriedly replied, nodding their heads like pecking chicken.

"Good." He left, trailing the prince.

The two maids brought out a bag each. Though they had experienced the scene dozens of time before, they could not get used to it.

They looked at each other and nodded, before entering the room.

No sooner had they entered the room than puking out all of the contents within their stomach into the bags.

A mutilated young woman was hanging on the wall; her fingers were cut off, her eyes gouged out. Blood had yet to stop trailing down that wall; the crimson puddle just under her kept expanding. Pieces of flesh from her breasts and limbs were torn off- piled together on a plate of feast. Her intestines were hanging out like a string of sausages, descending slowly but surely.

There were vials of potions on the ground- recovery and healing potions used to keep her alive during the process. Tools besmirched with blood and organ parts were arranged on a rack.

Though the maids had screamed the word a million times before in their heads, they never got tired of it.

'A MANIAC!'