Wow, you guys are no fun. You don't even guess which old characters(s) I'm revisiting. Oh, well. Chapter 13.

The Vektøs Guard.

They were second to none in the Empire's military, the absolute best of the best. Their minds had been so brutally assaulted during their training, not even a Rider could break past their mental barriers, and even Galbatorix's eldunarí had to put immense effort into getting into their minds. They had all seen the worst of the war so far, so much so that they didn't any spells for their nervous system to become so grotesquely adapted to pain and hardship. Their skills in hand to hand combat alone were unmatched, with just one of them being able to slaughter a small group of Kull in a short time, no magic needed.

Nobody knew of their existence, though, save for Galbatorix and most of the high ranking Generals, Commanders, and magicians. Such a secret could not be leaked out to any of the Varden or their allies. Therefore, even the Commanders and Generals could not say a word about them at combat zones and camping outposts. If it was found out that they did, their was no punishment besides death.

Four men of the Vektøs Guard stood before the slasher Dabre in Galbatorix's throne room. The Mad King himself sat on his throne, sipping a goblet of wine. He made eye contact with the slasher.

"Remember, you four," he began to say, "lethal force is not authorized in this skirmish. It is simply to test Dabre." He smiled to himself. Lethal force is not authorized-for you, he thought to himself. "Now, fight!"

Two of the men, who were of equal height, took point to the left of Dabre, while the other two were to his right. Neither he nor they were to use any weapons in this skirmish-only their bare hands, cunning, and intellect.

He lifted his head and analyzed the four men-the two to his left were both seven-foot-five. The other two were six-foot-eight and exactly eight feet, respectively. He was only six-foot-two. It was hardly a fair fight, but then, a fight didn't need to be fair to be won.

His first priority was the eight foot tall man. Dabre ran up to him before he could even blink and jumped up high before grabbing him by the lower torso and twisted him down. Bringing his fist down on the man's face, he shattered his skull with a loud crunch. Feeling a hand grab his left ankle, he almost instantly spun around to face the six-foot-eight tall man, loosening his grip. He opened his hand before bringing the fingers together and karate chopped the man in the throat. He was sent flying into the wall, and then landed on the ground, where he twitched for a few more seconds before falling still.

Facing the two remaining men, they charged-slowly. In a blur of motion he grabbed the leftmost man and snapped his neck while holding the rightmost man by his head. Pulling back his hand, he karate chopped the rightmost man in the throat while retaining his iron grip, letting him die standing. Finally, Dabre let go, and watched him crumple to the ground. He heard clapping behind him.

Turning, he saw Galbatorix grinning as he chuckled. "Most impressive. No man has ever been able to stand up to the Vektøs Guard and actually win. The fact that you sustained no injuries speaks volumes indeed. Most impressive. But, can you take on a magician almost experienced as myself? I am sure you slashers have no understanding of such a power."

Dabre snorted. "Give me all of you soldiers, all of your tacticians and spellcasters, Galbatorix-I will kill them all."

The king raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I shall be the judge of that. Bring them in!"

Two men garbed in a black tunic were pushed in through the chamber door, a twisting yellow flame stitched into their clothing. The moment they made eye contact with the slasher and smiled ever so smugly, he knew this would not be a hard fight.

He analyzed their bodies. They were both taller than him, but were thin to an almost unhealthy degree. Their arms were small and short, indicating that they never gave exercise so much as a thought. Their legs were of the same quality, and it seemed that if they ran, they would fall over and break like a twig.

At the same time, they began uttering something inaudible to him. It was a spell of course, and the only way he would survive this one was if he made them think he had lost.

Clutching at his chest, Dabre screamed out loudly before toppling to the side. He twitched and scrambled for several more seconds before lying still, shutting his eyes.

"NO!" Galbatorix roared. "What did you idiots do? You weren't supposed to kill him! He was my only damn chance!"

"Sir, we didn't do anything-" one of the magicians squeaked, but Galbatorix would have none of it.

"Oh, really?! Then why is he dead on the ground from a heart attack! Please, explain to me-WHY?!"

"We don't know, sir-we-we'll check!"

"You better, or else I will carve out your lungs and show them to your families before publicly burning them alive! NOW DO IT!"

The two magicians ran over to Dabre's "corpse", one of them feeling his neck while the other reached into his mind. However, he ran right into a solid wall of mental defense, and the other looked up.

"Sir, he still has a p-"

At that point, Dabre's eyes flashed open. He grabbed the man who had felt his pulse and twisted his head perfectly one hundred eighty degrees around, before punching the second magician four times in the throat, shattering his windpipe.

He turned to face Galbatorix. "Do you have any more men I need to kill?"

The king sat aghast. He couldn't believe four of his most powerful soldiers and two of his magicians had just been slaughtered by this one man, who was so beyond even his comprehension, he began to wonder if he could count on Dabre's loyalty.

"That-that was unbelievable," Galbatorix gasped. "Not only did you take on four Vektøs Guard and win, you fooled two of my brightest magicians and destroyed them without any shown effort. What are you?"

"Let's just say I was created to be the best at what I am, with skills that were never supposed to be mine," Dabre explained. "And now, I will go. I can see I have no further use on this day."

The man pulled open the chamber door and stomped out, the guards visibly troubled by the presence of the faceless, stoic, mostly silent mass murderer.

They'll get used to it, Galbatorix thought. They better.

He felt Shruikan enter his mind. Oh? And what are you going to do?

I shall do more horrible things than Dabre will, that is for sure!

The huge dragon sneered. You threaten with death and act with violence, and do you know why, Galbatorix? Because deep down, you are still heartbroken over the death of that previous dragon of yours, and so you have the desire to kill because you never got to kill the Urgal that killed her.

ENOUGH!, Galbatorix roared. I do not need emotional therapy from a giant piece of shit black lizard who has not once in his life had any kind of emotional connection with so much as a rat!

And who's fault is that?, Shruikan asked.

At that, Galbatorix simply hit a mental brick wall. It was because of him Shruikan had grown to be an antisocial and hostile dragon.

I-I will be leaving now. Eat the bodies if you want.

The king stepped off his throne and walked out into the hall. As he left, he heard one last gloat from Shruikan.

You know that I am right. You try to hide it by pretending to do things you couldn't care less about. One of these days, Galbatorix, all of your wrongdoings will come spilling off your burdened shoulders-

The doors shut and so did Galbatorix's connection to Shruikan. Contrary to the dragon's words, he was about to actually do something he had put off for quite a while.

-In a village to the east of Urû'baen –

He knocked hard on the flimsy wooden door leading into the hut. If he wanted, he could have just barged in as he pleased, but no. He wanted to break the news to this trash family slowly, until their small minds could put two and two together and figure out what he was saying. By then, he would be gone, not having to hear their pathetic sobs.

The door opened, revealing a stout man with a florid face, graying hair, and chalky white lips. The veins on his arms were visible, while the joints in his hands stuck out.

"And you are-?" the man asked, his age showing through his cracked and miniscule voice. Galbatorix scowled.

"You do not know who I am?" the king hissed, offended. "I am the king of this land you moron, so it would be best if you straightened your back and cleaned your face if you are to show respect!"

The man's eyes bulged. "You-you are Galbatorix?" he gasped. "I-I am s-s-so sorry! I didn't know ti was-"

"Alanar," a woman's voice called out. "Who are you talking to?"

"It is King Galbatorix!"

Galbatorix's eyes narrowed, his teeth clenched. Now he also had to deal with this hideous, impoverished tramp. Not what he planned at all.

The woman came up beside her husband, her scraggly hand resting on his shoulder. "You? You are-?"

"Yes, yes, I am King Galbatorix," he snarled. His patience was already slipping away.

"Is he alright?" the woman asked. "Our son, Ildrich, I mean. He joined the army, remember?"

"Yes, I remember," he grumbled. He was getting to the point at last. "Ildrich-he was a brave soldier, a good fighter. He loved his country and he made sure to crush the terrorism put out by the Varden, those murderers."

"I am proud to hear that," the man sighed, a smile of relief crossing his face. Galbatorix nearly vomited in his mouth.

"However, he had to pay a high price for his valor and bravery."

"What do you mean?" the man asked.

"He swore to me that he would fight for the Empire until the day he fell dead. His last words until they took him into the tent."

"What does that mean?" the woman rudely spat. The king shot her a nasty look.

"I-I am sorry. Your son fought well."

They seemed confused and turned to each other. Then, the woman let loose on him.

"I know what you are trying to do," she hissed. "You are trying to say Ildrich died in combat and are trying to get our next two sons into the army as well. It happened to my mother and brothers, and it will happen with my sons. Well, it looks like you have gotten what you wanted, you greedy ass! My sons were not dragged like my brothers, they came out forcefully, but now all of my viable offspring are going to die for you, taxman!"

"What?" Galbatorix said. "I sent no recruiters at all this past week! You must be out of your mind!"

"And you as well, you liar!" she cried. "I saw him with his deep gray eyes, long brown hair, and tanned skin!"

Galbatorix thought over who was currently alive in the Empire that served him, and ruled out all possibilities as to a recruiter save for one. Murtagh Morzansson, with his-

Murtagh and Thorn.

He had forgotten all about the two slaves. He angrily cried out, Murtagh! Thorn! MURTAGH!, but there was no response. It was as if his mind had never once come into contact with theirs. The only way this could have ever happened was if there true names had changed, and...no. It could not be.

Murtagh and Thorn had betrayed him, and had taken the two sons of these peasants with them.

His rage, already brimming over, completely spilled out, like water from a dam. He cursed and raged as he ran Vrangr through the woman, the sword sprouting from her back and drenched in gore. The man, being the coward he was, threw his arms up and ran. It did him no good as Galbatorix cried, "Jierda!" and tore his neck apart.

His rage still unsatisfied, he moved through the hut, learning the family contained a little girl as well. She screamed and began sobbing as she saw the huge man with the bloody sword. Disgusted by her crying, he made the tears stop by turning the water in her cells into wine. She stopped and twitched for a few more seconds as her tears turned blood red. She finally stopped and gave up to death. It was a truly macabre sight, and it honestly impressed Galbatorix.

The family dog was next as it tried to bite the king's leg, but the fangs were repelled by his wards. Annoyed, the dog burst into flames, yipping and barking as it ran through the hut, setting anything it touched ablaze before it fell dead, charred.

Seeing nothing left to kill, Galbatorix's rage lowered and realized he had to leave quickly. As the flames spread, he ran off, making sure there would be no evidence.

Well, what do you think? Special thanks to seh507 for Favoriting and Following. R&R you guys, and chapter 14 will be here in at least two more weeks, and after that, the Siege of Dras Leona!