*I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, turtles.*

Knowledge Rules All

Pits of blackness glared down at a bloodied and bruised figure that kneeled upon the dingy floor, his image mocked him as he gazed down, eyes full of despair and impending doom.

"Why," an angry voice asked."Is it that every time I send you out to do a simple task, you return with nothing but failure?" The hunched figure visibly flinched as the words were spoken with hidden poison. He raised his head, but did not look into the eyes of his master. "Explain to me boy, or would you rather spend a little time in that special room of yours, hmm?" The man's eyebrows lifted up in a suggestive manner.

"I…I pitied him." He quickly looked back down in anticipation of the coming agony.

"Pitied?" The master asked. "Pitied?" He roared in a cold, harsh voice. "This is war, boy. No life is spared; young, old…woman or children. If there is an obstacle in our way, we must eliminate it, and only then will there be true peace acquired." The man got up from his throne and started pacing. "You see, the Varden have caused this war, not I. Yet they continue to rebel, killing innocent lives. They are the true evil ones. Had they not rebelled, everyone would be mirthful, enjoying mead in a tavern instead of mourning the loss of their loved ones. I have tried to be compromising, but it seems they will simply not comply."

The boy on the floor started to wither in pain, coughing up blood and screaming in agony as bones cracked. Suddenly, it stopped, only for the master to raise his hand and throw him across the room where he lay still, his breath ragged.

"You have failed me time and time again, Murtagh. I will have no more of this! Your emotions are getting in the way, and that is why I will train you to kill without this-this sadnesss you seem to harbor within you." He hissed in disgust.

"Once you have learned this, you might actually be able to defeat your fledgling of a brother."

Murtagh ignored his sarcasm and said while gasping painfully for air, "But my Lord Galbatorix, if I were to… kill him," he hesitated "Surely his dragon would die along with him?"

"You dare defy me, you ignorant little fool!" He bellowed. Galbatorix walked up to his slumped form, holding his chin and grazing his black nails across his skin, letting a slight amount of blood to trickle down onto his fingertips. He raised his hand, licking it off, all the while not taking his eyes away Murtagh.

"I have studied how to separate dragon from human for over fifty years. I have read books upon hundreds of books; none of which say how to separate a bond, but strengthen it. But," he said, letting go of Murtagh's chin and continuing to pace. "One little leather book caught my eye. It was not very big, however it had substantial amount of information I could use to quench my every need and desire. And do you know who it was written by? Of course you don't, imbecile, do not even try to answer that."

Galbatorix spat in his face, "It was written by the greatest of necromancers that ever lived: Coruhigil. His name roughly translates to cunning dagger. And a dagger he certainly was. His tongue so sharp it could weave spells like they were nothing, fabricate any lie, and kill anybody in his way.

"Of course," The king turned sharply, staring into Murtagh's eyes with black coals, "He cannot do that anymore since the war between the dragons and elves, for he has supposedly gone missing, and has not been seen since."

"And do you know where he is now, My Lord?" Murtagh asked, eyes filled with a tint of curiosity.

"Nobody knows what has happened to him, or where he has gone; only that he left a collection of personal notes. He was trying to find something…something that could change the whole of Alagaësia as we know it. And that something will help me in conquering this country and its people. I shall rule all!" He growled. "And when I do," The king's deep voice echoed, a frenzied look came into his eyes. "I will once again rise to power where magical creatures serve under me, and peace reigns."

Galbatorix's maniacal laughter rattled the black castle walls, resounding every which way with an ominous note of sinister evil.

*Keep on reading.*