Chapter Four: Politics

Athellenas

Warmaster Athellenas had never liked the city. He had spent the majority of his early childhood on a farm in the Far Reaches—he was accustomed to nature, to the wild, to the wide-open spaces that only the wilderness of the country had to offer. As he and his surviving men trotted up one of the main roads that honeycombed Centralia and into the capital city of Tethys, the Warmaster kept on glancing around at the dirty cobbled streets, the beggars lining the sidewalks, the absence of green plantlife, and was reminded why he disliked the city.

The throngs of citizens crowding the streets parted and made way for Athellenas and Sir Derren, the Warmaster's most trusted subordinate. Athellenas ordered the cavalrymen who had accompanied him on the ill-fated patrol throughout northern Centralia back to their barracks, while he and Sir Derren continued on towards the palace.

"Looking forward to facing the old bores in the Forum?" Sir Derren chuckled as he and the Warmaster reached the large central square and started to trot across. The palace was a small distance away from the other side.

"Mm-hm," the graying Warmaster grunted. "Like I look forward to taking an arrow in my testicle."

Sir Derren chuckled briefly, before he remembered something he had learned from the Warmaster during his time serving under the older man. "Didn't that already happen to you when you defended Avarrocka from the anarchists?"

"Mm-hm," Athellenas grunted again, wincing as the memory of the wound came back to him. "You think I was joking?"

Sir Derren grinned, displaying his teeth. "Absolutely."

Athellenas gave a low chuckle. He returned his attention to the road ahead and reigned in Onyx before the dappled white and gray steed wandered into a nearby flower garden. The Palace came into view as the two mounted soldiers headed away from the square.

The Palace was less of an actual palace and more of a walled-off compound in which the King resided and ruled from. The Forum also convened in the palace compound when necessary, though the consuls of the Forum lived in the city outside. The Palace always had its own elite force of soldiers defending it, known universally as the Old Guard. If the city were ever attacked, the Old Guard would be the last line of defense standing between the King and the enemy.

Of course, no enemy would ever make it that far into Centralia as a kingdom, let alone the center of its capital.

Warmaster Athellenas trotted up the cobbled path to the entrance gate leading into the royal compound. The two sentries on top of the gate squinted to get a better look at the Warmaster, but Athellenas removed his helm so that they would have no doubts.

The sentries, satisfied that there was no trouble, allowed the Warmaster to pass without incident. The portcullis was drawn up by an unseen mechanism within the gate itself, and Athellenas and Sir Derren were able to ride through. Once they were clear of the gate, the portcullis came sliding back down to its former position.

The interior of the royal compound was beautiful, by any standards. Trimmed grass and plants made up the majority of the earth, crisscrossed by the stone paths that linked each building in the compound to all the others. Several kinds of trees—oaks, mahoganies, yellowwoods, pines—dotted the place as well. In the back of the compound was the Royal Palace; pretty much a keep or a small citadel—that was where the King and his staff resided, along with the Old Guard.

There were also two barracks, where the Old Guard kept their weapons and gear. There were several other buildings, including a smokehouse, a standalone kitchen, and a greenhouse. The second-largest building, however, was located just to the right of the centre of the compound. It was a plain marble hemisphere, arcing up from the ground in a simple, graceful curve. This was the Forum, where the consuls of the Forum formally convened. Today, that building was going to be full.

"Sir Derren, this report is for me to deliver, and me alone," Athellenas told his subordinate. "You are free to wander the compound, if you wish."

"I would much rather accompany you," Sir Derren started to protest, but the Warmaster stopped him.

"I know you would…" Athellenas chuckled. "Believe me; I'm doing you a favor…the longer you stay out of the filthy mire of politics, the better. Enjoy the simple life of knowing your enemy and having the ability to end him with your sword…in future years, you will miss it dearly. For now, the consuls are my problem to deal with."

"As you wish," Sir Derren bowed his head, submitting to his superior. Though he sounded polite and neutral, Athellenas knew that the young knight was disappointed and dissatisfied.

The Warmaster shrugged. The young knight would have his chance to deal with the Forum when he became an old Warmaster…until then, he would simply have to suck it up. It was too bad; when he was finally able to deal with the Forum himself, he would not want to, either. It was funny, the way the universe reversed like that.

Sir Derren took his leave, trotting off towards a few Old Guardsmen who had congregated near one of their barracks. As the young knight left, Athellenas continued on towards the Forum dome. Onyx took him right up to the entrance before stopping. The steed snuffled, knowing that he had reached his destination. Athellenas dismounted. He circled around to Onyx's front and gave his horse an affectionate ruffle under his chin, then clapped him on the neck and turned, heading straight into the entrance of the Forum. He did not bother securing Onyx to a tree or anything else; the horse would come when he called him.

Athellenas walked down the short hallway that led from the entrance of the Forum to the actual council chamber. There were two Old Guardsmen standing watch on either side of the doors at the other end of the hall. They stepped aside for Athellenas as he approached.

"Good luck, sir," one of the soldiers murmured to Athellenas under his breath.

Athellenas did not reply. He didn't need to. He took a deep breath, and placed a firm hand on the doors to the chamber, pushing it open and striding inside.

The inside of the Forum was, unsurprisingly, chaotic. Consuls argued with one another across the room, some even throwing papers, quills, or inkpots. Lord Fernando, the Forum Praetor and King Osman's majordomo, tried in vain to keep order while the King himself sat in his booth, looking like he was contemplating suicide.

Athellenas waited patiently in the center of the room, looking up at the consuls in the tiers surrounding him. This wasn't his first visit to the Forum, but it was his first time experiencing firsthand how violent the conventions could become when dealing with sensitive topics.

Sitting next to the King was another tall, handsome, winged man, with a small silver circlet set atop his head. Two magnificent turquoise wings were clearly visible behind his back, but he had respectfully folded them while indoors. Athellenas recognized him as Laertes, the ambassador of the Iceyene, the race of winged men and women who inhabited the Hallowlands across the River Salve to the east. The Iceyene were fellow Saradominists and, therefore, allies of Centralia.

That at least told the Warmaster that someone in the Forum had known that Athellenas's report was going to be serious.

Lord Fernando took notice of the Warmaster standing near the entrance. He took a deep breath and thundered, "Quiet down, you blithering imbeciles! He is here!" in the most tremendous bellow he could muster.

The effect was immediate. Whether it was the fact that Athellenas had arrived, or if it was the fact that Lord Fernando had openly insulted every one of them, the consuls all fell silent.

"Ah, Warmaster Athellenas, welcome," one of the consuls muttered, "What trouble have you caused us now?"

"Mind your tongue, Earis," Lord Fernando warned the bold consul who had spoken out.

Athellenas ignored the jab and strode into the center of the chamber. He faced the King and lowered himself down to a knee, bowing his head in respect for his monarch.

"Rise, Warmaster," King Osman brought his mind back to the here and now to address his general. Osman had been King of Centralia for only three years, after the sudden death of his father. The King was only eighteen years old, but he already seemed like an old man, with the threat of constant war looming over him and his people.

"My liege," Athellenas bowed once more to King Osman, keeping to formal tradition. He had a friendlier relationship with the ruler of Centralia outside of the Forum, but that could not be expressed inside of the Forum. Inside of the Forum, everyone was neutral. Or at least, they were supposed to be.

"Warmaster Athellenas, we received a messenger eagle from you five days ago while you were out on patrol," Lord Fernando began to speak, "In the message, you informed us that you were riding hard for Tethys to personally give your report. As such, the Forum has convened to hear your account of what you found at Ephyrn. You are aware that the convention of the Forum is only done in such a manner in times of emergency, are you not?"

"I am," Athellenas replied, keeping his answers short and simple.

"Then you are also aware that, if your report is found to be wasting the Forum's time, sanctions can be taken against you?" Lord Fernando asked next. The Praetor looked as if he was swallowing a sour fruit as he spoke; he really did not want to ask that question, but he was required to.

"I am," Athellenas repeated himself.

"Then, with the King's permission, you may give us your report."

King Osman leaned forward, resting his arms on the banister in front of him, peering down at the Warmaster. He gave a short, curt nod.

"Gentlemen, Consuls of the Forum," Athellenas began, "I regret to inform you that the town of Ephyrn is no more."

"What do you mean, 'no more'?" Consul Earis cocked an eyebrow. "Have your soldiers forgotten how to navigate?"

Again, Athellenas ignored the jab. He knew of Earis—the consul who had the disdain every politician had for the army, only his disdain was significantly greater than the norm. The Warmaster continued with his report. "The whole town was razed to the ground. Every building was burned to charcoal. The people had been…" Athellenas broke off for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, immersing himself once more in the memories of what he and his scouts had found at Ephyrn. "The people had all been slaughtered, all piled up in a huge mound in the center of town, like some sort of…decoration," the Warmaster spat the word like it was a curse.

"Everyone was dead? No survivors?" Lord Fernando asked for clarification.

"That is correct," Athellenas nodded.

"You were ordered to safeguard that town, and you are now telling this council that you were too slow to help the innocent villagers there?" Consul Earis asked in his smooth, honeyed tones, his eyebrow calmly sliding up his forehead a fraction. "If this is the level of security and protection that you and your soldiers are capable of providing this kingdom-"

That was a jab that Athellenas could not brush off. "All due respect, consul, but I was never ordered to safeguard Ephyrn. I was merely ordered to investigate the town, and these orders were sent to me an entire week after contact with Ehpyrn was lost. If anything, the fate of Ephyrn is your fault for not acting sooner than you did."

That provoked a clamor of protest from the consuls, who viewed Athellenas's backtalk as a personal insult to their reputations as politicians. Remarks of "How dare you?!" and "Insolent brute!" were among the more common exclamations, though there were a few choicer insults thrown into the fray as well.

"Silence!" the shout had come from King Osman himself, who had stood from his seat, gripping the banister in front of him. The room immediately plunged into silence, and the consuls all sank back into their seats. "Warmaster Athellenas, you will mind your tongue when addressing this council," the King said to the Warmaster, as required, but he then turned to the rest of the room and said, "As for you all; I will give the Warmaster permission to personally eject the next consul who speaks out of turn."

The King named no names as he spoke, but his gaze was fixed on Earis. If the outspoken consul noticed this, he did a good job of concealing it. His expression did not falter.

"You may continue with your report, Warmaster," Lord Fernando gave Athellenas a nod.

"After securing the square, where we found the villagers," Athellenas continued, "We encountered a medium-sized force of orks. They had a shaman with them, who used its foul magicks to veil the monsters from our eyes until we were upon them. They ambushed us, and I lost several men to them. We managed to kill them all, however. There was a demon there as well-"

"A demon?" Lord Fernando interrupted, surprise evident in his voice. "An actual demon?"

"A weak demon, but a demon nonetheless," Athellenas confirmed. "I personally slew the beast. The point is that these orks were not acting on their own. They all wore these-" Athellenas reached behind his back and grabbed the battered metal helm that had been hanging off the back of his armor. He had taken it from the corpse of one of the ork attackers in Ephyrn.

The Warmaster tossed the helmet down onto the table in front of him. All of the consuls leaned forward to observe the helm. It was made of common steel, but the most noticeable feature was the rough symbol engraved on the helm's fore. It was a black and red pair of horns, both of them bent at angles and meeting in the center, forming a rough 'W' shape.

The unholy symbol of Zamorak.

"All of the orks we found at Ephyrn wore these. They all bore the foul symbol of Zamorak, branded onto their flesh as well as their armor," Athellenas recounted. "The Dark God is responsible for this…this slaughter."

"Outrageous; the Dark One has been banished to the Deep Wilderness. He has not the strength to emerge," Consul Earis interrupted.

Now it was Athellenas's turn to cock an eyebrow. "A town full of slain Centralians begs to differ," the Warmaster countered.

"Such speak of the Dark One's return has been decreed as heresy by the Church of Saradomin," Earis persisted, not relenting one bit. "Warmaster Athellenas; you waste our time with your drivel, you fail to protect one of our villages from anarchists, and now you have the gall to suggest that the old war is starting up once more. The Church will not stand for-"

"The Church can go up in smoke, for all I care," Athellenas declared, finally fed up with all of the Forum's sidetracking and nitpicking. "This is the Forum of Centralia, not the Church of Saradomin. What the Church says is illegal has no sway here, am I correct? This still is the Kingdom of Centralia, not the Church, am I correct? We do still follow the King and not the Priori, am I correct?"

"Why—why---why, you insolent-" Earis sputtered furiously, but the words chocked up and did not flow, getting caught somewhere in the enraged consul's throat.

"Consuls!" Athellenas continued, "Whether you choose to see it or not, Zamorak is returning! Even now, he assails our villages, and we do nothing! We must mobilize our army and prepare for an invasion. If we do not do this now, then we will be-"

"This council has had quite enough of your warmongering, Warmaster!" Consul Earis interrupted Athellenas, backed up by several murmurs of assent and agreement from his peers.

"Warmongering!?" Athellenas roared in response, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Consul Earis pressed on, moving in for the kill. "If this council agrees, I would move to call a vote of no-confidence in-"

"Order!" Lord Fernando bellowed, silencing the consuls before they could start ranting. "That will be quite enough, from all of you! Warmaster Athellenas, this council has heard your report and will presently deliberate any subsequent action that we shall take based upon it. I move for a recess and a reconvention to begin at noontime, tomorrow. All in favor?"

The thirty-odd consuls all raised their hands and collectively replied, "Aye!"

"This Convention is hereby temporarily adjourned. When you all return, I expect you to keep your tongues on tight leashes. Anymore outbursts like the one I have just witnessed, and I will have you thrown out on your backsides! Now get out of my sight," Lord Fernando concluded. The Praetor turned on his heel, his long robes flowing behind him as he strode from the room.

The King and the Iceyene ambassador exited the room as well from the back passageway. The consuls all rose and filed their way out the front entrance. Earis gave Athellenas a dirty glare as he brushed past.

The Warmaster ignored the consul and turned around. He strode off towards the door and pushed his way outside, knocking one or two consuls aside who did not clear out of his way, not caring when they fell to the ground.

Athellenas made his way across the greens towards the Citadel, muttering under his breath, opening and closing his hands as he tried to control the red-hot fury that was roiling deep inside of him.

The door guards recognized the Warmaster, and then saw that he was not a normal Warmaster; he was an extremely angry Warmaster. They saluted quickly and stepped to the side. "Try not to break anything, sir, or we'll have to remove you," one of the Old Guardsmen warned the aging Warmaster.

Athellenas brushed his way past, stepping into the palace. He walked straight across the front hall and through the double doors at the other end of the room, which led straight into the throne room.

The throne at the far end was empty right now, as King Osman was still on his way, but normally this is where he would sit in order to have an audience to anyone with matters requiring royal attention.

Athellenas swore under his breath and resorted to pacing up and down the length of the room, forcing his emotions back down where they belonged. He took several deep breaths and managed to calm himself down. His anger would not help him when he spoke with the King. Even so, his rage was still present enough to make his arms quiver and his eye twitch occasionally, and that was beyond his control.

"You slammed the door on the consul pretty hard, there, Athellenas."

Athellenas turned on his heel to see King Osman pushing his way through the doors and into the throne room. It was the King who had spoken. The Warmaster began to sink to a knee to properly greet the King, but Osman waved a dismissive hand.

"You can dispense with the formalities, Athellenas," King Osman sighed. "I've known you too long for that. Come; let us retire to my study."

Athellenas bowed his head and followed the King behind his throne and into the room beyond. Within was a small room filled with books and scrolls, as well as a simplee mahongany desk situated in the center. The King sat behind the desk, and he invited Athellenas to do the same.

Athellenas declined, preferring instead to stand.

"Athellenas…" Osman sighed, gingerly removing his crown and rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. "I'm not a fool, despite what others may think. What the consuls were saying to you in that room was wrong…there's no arguing that fact. But they're politicians; that's what they do best, askew as that concept may be. Your harsh words in retaliation to theirs were justified, yes…but they certainly did not help your cause."

"I am aware of that, Sire," Athellenas replied.

King Osman let out another sigh, though this one was interspersed with a mirthless chuckle. "You've never played the politicians' games, Warmaster. Not when my father ruled these lands before me, and still not now…either you are extremely honorable, or extremely stubborn and foolish…perhaps they are one and the same, in this case. Regardless…you are not making this easy for anyone, dishing it out to the consuls like you just did."

"So I am supposed to stand idle and watch those puppets insult and mock the warriors that protect and defend this land without consequence or reprimand?"

"If that is what it takes for them to see the light, and keep you out of trouble, then yes. You are too valuable for me to lose."

Athellenas gave his monarch a wan smile, his face resigned. "Sire, I would suggest that we simply agree to disagree. I will lead the Army, you will lead a nation, and they will somehow keep it running. Let us leave it at that and lay this issue to rest."

There was a brief creaking sound from behind as Lord Fernando stepped into the room, gently closing the door behind him. The King's majordomo bowed his head to King Osman before straightening up and offering a hand to Athellenas. The Warmaster grasped it and gave it a firm shake, which Fernando reciprocated.

"I owe you an apology, Warmaster, for my words to you back in that hellhole," Lord Fernando said to Athellenas in apology. "Much as I did not wish to utter them, they were a part of a protocol that had to be followed…I meant nothing personally against you by them."

"Once again, think nothing of it," Athellenas shrugged. "You were just doing your job, and doing it quite well. Whatever the consuls may believe and say, those monsters I encountered at Ephyrn were working under Zamorak…I know the Dark God's influence when I see it. You must believe me when I tell you that evil is spreading from the Wilderness once more."

"Our hands are tied on the issue," Lord Fernando replied. "We have tried securing a Declaration of War several times in the past. Evidence of Zamorak's presence has been more often and obvious than you know, Warmaster. The Church, however, obstinately refuses to acknowledge the Dark One's return. They view it as blasphemy to even speak his name, let alone say that he is returning."

"Without the Church's approval, the Forum will not cast a Declaration of War," King Osman finished.

"Is there no way to begin mobilization of our armies without the approval of the Forum?" Athellenas asked.

"No," Lord Fernando shook his head for a second, then quickly changed his mind and turned his headshake into a shrug. "Well, there is one way…we can bypass the Forum if the enemy actually invades us. Of course, a mobilization that late in the game would not be conducive to coordinating a solid defense against said invasion…"

"What of Ephyrn? What of what happened there? Will that not be sufficient to sway their minds?" Athellenas asked next, bringing up the thought that had been nagging at the back of his mind since he had started the conversation with his superiors.

"I think…" King Osman spoke slowly, as if he chose and examined each individual word in his mind before actually saying it. "I think that the consuls will be more inclined to pay heed to your retaliatory insults leveled at Consul Earis instead of your report."

"That is outrageous-!"

"I never said it wasn't," King Osman interrupted, holding up a hand and silencing the angry Warmaster. "This is politics. It is a bunch of ungrateful degenerates trying to get the most they can out of any situation, even a potential Zamorackian invasion. You have to know how to deal with them to get them to-"

"I do know how to deal with them," Athellenas growled, "Throw them into the middle of a battle against orks, werewolves, and demons, and see how well they fare."

That provoked an amused chuckle from both the King and the Forum Praetor. "That would be quite a sight to see," Lord Fernando admitted, "seeing those braggarts waving their papers and throwing their inkpots at the monsters' faces…" his voice trailed off as he finished the thought, savoring the thought of the consuls being torn apart by Zamorak's filth.

"Amusing, yes," King Osman agreed, "But it does not further our cause."

"What cause?" Athellenas muttered bitterly. "The only thing I seem to be able to do here is preach to a deaf choir. Those bloody cunts we have filling the seats in the Forum twiddle and piss their time and power away…and meanwhile, Zamorak gathers his strength up north, and we do nothing. He massacres an entire town, and we do nothing. When he crosses the border, he will not face the strongest nation in Gielinor. He will face a weakened country without a prepared army, without a-"

"Peace, Warmaster, peace," King Osman held up his hand, quieting Athellenas down. The Warmaster obliged the King and fell silent.

The Warmaster gazed into the King's haggard face. Osman was a very handsome man, there was no denying that, but the hardships of being King in a time of strife had taken their toll on him. With attacks on the borders of Centralia by anarchists, rebels, and monsters from the far parts of the world on the rise, his attention had been required time and time again to address the matters. The simple solution would be to mobilize the Centralian Army, but he was prevented from doing that by the Forum and, indirectly, the damned Church of Saradomin.

The King was barely even out of his adolescence yet. He had become King three years ago, when he was only fifteen years old. Being the ruler of the most powerful Kingdom in Gielinor was too much of a burden for someone his age…but he bore it nonetheless, and he did so without complaint. Lord Fernando, who had served Osman's father, helped the young King along in any way he could. Had it not been for the majordomo, the King would probably have succumbed to the strain of his position long ago.

Warmaster Athellenas gave the King his complete obedience, if only because he knew that the King had too much on his plate to deal with the dissatisfactions of a jaded old soldier. When Osman interrupted him and asked him to be silent mid-rant, the Warmaster obeyed without a second thought.

"I cannot implement a full mobilization yet," King Osman reiterated, changing tack. "Warmaster, I promise you that I will do my utmost to assemble our entire army. I just need more time, or an opportunity to force the Forum's hand… I believe you wholeheartedly when you say that Zamorak is planning to strike against us. I look at what goes on in the Forum, and the consuls' inaction, at the Church's near-fanatical refusal to see and accept the truth… I look at all of these things, and I fear, I truly fear for the future of our kingdom."

"If the Dark God does invade, then damn the Forum," Athellenas declared. "I swear upon everything I hold dear that I will not allow evil and chaos to consume this land, and no politician or church will stand in my way."

"Your zeal is laudable, Warmaster," the King gave a weak smile, which Athellenas recognized as a subtle show of great gratitude from the monarch. "I do not doubt your promise for a second. You have always been a constant for me, and I will not forget it…" the King sighed and changed the subject, bringing the conversation back to the original point. "The Forum will reconvene tomorrow, and we shall continue our deliberations then."

"Joy and rapture," Athellenas grunted.

The King looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he was reluctant to speak. Finally, his verbal impulse won over his silence, and he said, "Warmaster, I should not be telling you this now, but I do have a job for you, a job that may break my stalemate with the Forum, and one that may bring the truth of Zamorak's return to the light."

"Oh?" Athellenas raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued.

"I have been receiving troubling news from the Menaphites in the desert to the southeast…very troubling news…" King Osman murmured. He drummed his fingers on the top of his desk for a moment, and then looked right into Athellenas's eyes. "How do you feel about commanding an army in the desert?"