Chapter Eleven

The Emperor's Despair

HANS

Autumn had always been Hans' favourite season because he got to see all the lovely colours of fall. They reminded him of royalty, of the greater purpose he knew he was destined for. The season had always kept him focused, year after year, on the goal he wanted to achieve.

To be the ruler of a kingdom.

Hans remembered his tenth birthday, where as a child he learnt for the first time that he would never be King of the Southern Isles. That realisation had crushed him, but that was the day his innocence had died, and he had learnt to think bigger. To find a way to still be king.

Then there was Arendelle, fourteen years later, when he'd tried to take the northern kingdom and failed. He'd rotted in a Southern Isles prison through the autumn and beyond, looking up at the falling red leaves and remembering his old dream just to realise how far he'd fallen. But then a second chance had been presented to him and he'd vowed to think even bigger. To never again fail or to be looked down upon.

And now, here he stood, admiring another cool autumn day, having everything he'd every dreamt of. Not just a kingdom, but an entire empire that was still expanding even now as he enjoyed the morning breeze. With people kneeling at his feet, obeying his every word. With two armies under his command, and the Crimson Order to carry out his bidding. He was master of all, and everything was as it should be.

Only it wasn't. Not entirely. Hans stood at the balcony of City Hall's main municipal building in his white suit and tie, overlooking the proceedings down at the public square not far from where he was. It was a beautiful autumn morning, but whatever was happening was anything but.

The square was packed with Exonians all pressing together to see the execution of yet another traitor. Many had abandoned their early morning trip to the market, while others had stopped on their way to work to witness the latest death made public in the town square. All around the perimeter of the town square were Hans' Imperial Blitzguard soldiers and local police force, who'd done a decent job at herding the crowd to get the maximum number of witnesses.

The more that see the executions, the better. Hans sipped from a cup of piping hot tea. It didn't matter that the locals who'd once cheered him now saw his true colours. It didn't matter at all, because he was already Emperor of Exon. He'd saved the people from what could've been 'certain death' at the hands of the Coalition of the North. He'd driven the enemies away from the capital's gates. He'd amassed power beyond his wildest dreams, and the people couldn't have asked for a better ruler. They would all fall in line, eventually, and the traitors would all be rooted out like weeds and destroyed.

"Sergeant Manny Sal Tolvar, House of Jeknan," One of his Blitzguard soldiers called out loudly in Exonite, his voice travelling across the hushed town square up to where Hans was watching. "You have been found guilty of supporting the terrorist faction known as the Equalitar. As decreed by law, the punishment for treason against His Imperial Majesty and the Empire is hanging from the neck till death."

Hans looked at the man who'd been labelled a traitor. A militiaman working for the House of Jeknan, by the uniform he wore. One of the noble houses that'd turned to the rebels' cause.

His grip tightened on the handle of his teacup as his jaw tightened. The situation here in Exon's capital was not going well. In spite of his best laid plans, he'd failed to account for the fact that the Warriors could beat him in a game of espionage.

They'd always seemed the type to take on a battle head on, perhaps with the exception of Anna who'd always been more of a political threat. Never had he thought that Elsa, the sea witch and the masked mercenary would successfully employ espionage tactics against him, not when they were the ones being hunted down like prey. And yet, they'd succeeded in acquiring evidence that had exposed him.

Damn the Duke of Luftzeit. Hans growled softly under his breath, the porcelain handle of the teacup cracking between his fingers. He'd suspected there to be a traitor within his cabinet, but he hadn't expected the Minister of Economics to be the one spearheading the rebellion. Ludwig Jal Voda had been far craftier than Hans had given him credit for.

Hans' eyes narrowed in frustration. Perhaps he'd been a little too arrogant, believing that he was untouchable now that he was on the throne. Perhaps he'd been complacent, even, thinking that no one would dare move against him after he'd presented himself as a saviour to the people after the incompetence of Eleanor and her family. And yet, the rebel faction known as the Equalitar had exposed his secrets thanks to Elsa and her masked lover.

The Equalitar - led by Ludwig Jal Voda, the Minister of Economics - had exposed to the Exonians evidence of Hans channelling more funds into the war as opposed to making an effort to pursue peaceful negotiations as Hans had led everyone to believe. And in the two years since the Warriors' escape, the Equalitar had grown in popularity, gaining more momentum and rallying more supporters to their cause.

Being forced into a corner, Hans had revealed his true colours and ordered public executions of anyone who dared opposed him. He couldn't care less about the people's perception of him - as long as they feared him and remained under his thumb. He didn't care about being loved by the people. Why would he be bothered with such petty concerns? No, he had much bigger plans. And those plans had begun with declaring anyone supporting the Equalitar to be traitors to the Empire.

And what better way to deal with traitors than to execute them?

Spitefully, Hans watched as the executioner clad in black checked the knot on the thick rope around the traitor's neck as he stood with wrists bound behind his back, elevated on a chair for the public to see. Given how the Equalitar had been waging civil war in the capital over the past two years, he'd had no choice but to turn to such extreme measures. But perhaps that was the rebels' plan; to force him into revealing his true nature.

But no matter. A sick smile formed on Hans' lips as the executioner kicked the chair out from beneath the traitor's feet and the rebel choked, struggling in vain with his hands tied behind his back. The Equalitar had no hope of winning the civil war. They'd roused the rabble, stirred up a revolution, but they couldn't beat him. The ground was slowly shrinking beneath their feet. The Imperial Blitzguard would snuff them out in time. But even if his honour guard failed, it wasn't like the rebels could defeat him. He was immortal. The Eternal King resided within him, giving him strength and power beyond his wildest imagination.

Inside, he felt the demon stirring as if to offer confirmation. His smile widened. The best the Confederation could throw at him had failed. The Warriors had taken the fight right to his doorstep, and they'd been scattered to lick their wounds. They hadn't surfaced again. It was apparent they knew they'd been beaten.

You let the League get away, the Eternal King's voice thundered inside his head.

"Are we going to argue about this again?" Hans retorted. "I killed the demigod, scattered them and broke their spirit completely. They barely survived the Siege of Steinfall."

Barely. But they live. They live to challenge us again.

"They will not. They've been broken beyond healing. My army made sure of it." Hans argued. "Two years since their retreat, and not a hint of resistance since. The Empire has swept across the continent, conquering everything in its path. I am unstoppable."

You arrogant fool. You think this is the end?

"Yes," Hans snarled. "I've won. I beat the Warriors at their own game. I took their homes from them. They're forced to live out the rest of their lives, running from the Empire, knowing they can do nothing against me. Isn't that a punishment far worse than death?"

Your love for theatrics and pettiness will damn us both, Westergaard, the Eternal King's anger burned inside Hans' gut, as though it was his own. You bear weakness, just like your predecessor.

"I am not weak." Hans' fist clenched and the teacup shattered into smithereens. "I have done what no ruler has ever done before. In two years, I've conquered most of the continent. Vjor. Molcorra. Arendelle. Einsfelt. Denmark. And more. Soon, every kingdom on this side of the world will be mine."

Yet your subjects in the capital rebel against you, threatening to upset the established order. You call that victory?

"I have it handled."

Do you? the Eternal King mocked. You send out the Mage Slayers and the Imperial Blitzguard every night after curfew, hoping to hunt down the Equalitar but with no success for they are so well hidden. All they find are stragglers, and you turn them into martyrs for their cause.

"We're close to crushing the rebellion," Hans growled. "We will win this war and the people will be forced to love me again. Their saviour."

Will they? After you spat in the face of their beliefs and traditions, openly working with thugs and demon assassins to keep the peace? the Eternal King roared with laughter. You deceive yourself.

"It doesn't matter. I am Emperor of Exon, and nothing will change that." Hans forced himself to sound victorious. "I have succeeded where your first host failed. I broke my enemies' spirit and sent them fleeing with no hope of striking back. I have won."

You forget, Westergaard, the Eternal King said. I am inside you. I know your every thought, your every insecurity. Your every fear. You do not believe your own words.

"Your Imperial Majesty."

Hans spun, his breath hard and fast. Behind him stood Romaine Pyke, Captain of the Imperial Blitzguard, who promptly saluted once he got the Emperor's attention.

The tempest within faded, and Hans was once again of singular mind. But he knew he was never truly alone. The Eternal King was inside him, waiting, mocking, watching his every move and listening to his every thought.

Hans grimaced. Had he made a mistake, allying himself with this demon? It'd given him all the power he could ever wish for, yet a part of him knew the Eternal King was right. As long as the Warriors were still out there, they posed a threat to him, no matter how broken they were.

"Sir?" The captain's voice snapped him back to reality. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." Hans smiled calmly as he acknowledged the man's salute. I am in control. "You have something for me?"

"Yes, sir," Pyke said. "We interrogated the traitor we caught last night, just like the others."

"And?"

"He told us nothing," Pyke's face was a mask of neutrality. "Even after we implemented all the usual devices."

Hans stilled the rage that threatened to break loose, and kept the smile on his face. "Keep searching, Captain. One of them is bound to give up the Equalitar. We just have to find the weak link."

"Forgive me for saying so, Emperor, but I believe the rebels have no central base," Pyke said. "My guess is they keep their base mobile, moving headquarters from location to location and leaving no trace to follow."

"Then tighten the curfew and increase the patrols, Captain," Hans said. "I want them found and destroyed. Every last one of them."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty." Pyke saluted and marched away with all the rigidity of a professional soldier, leaving Hans alone at the balcony once again.

Hans turned back to the town square. The traitor had long since stopped struggling, now left to hang by the neck for the rest of the day as a public display. A warning. The public had already begun to disperse, to return to their daily lives, having witnessed yet another death in a long line of executions that'd been carried out over the past few months. Yet the Equalitar still lurked out there, somewhere hidden in the shadows.

Is this the way things are supposed to be? Hans wondered. Is this how my victory should look like? He desperately wanted answers, yet he knew there was only one place he could get them. A place he never wanted to visit again. Yet, it was necessary.

I need to know.

Adjusting the lapels of his suit, he turned away from the balcony and walked back into the building.

It'd been a while since Hans had descended down into the depths of the dungeons below the Kalneron Cathedral. There had been no need to do so ever since he'd solidified his base of power above. Whatever he needed, or whoever he needed, would come to him. But this was the one exception.

Hans scrunched up his nose as he entered the main cavern. The miasma of death, the metallic smell of blood and rotting flesh, it all came back to him like a flood after he'd spent so long trying to erase the memory of the horrid stench. But it was a necessity, if he were to learn the truth.

There, at the centre of the cavern, were the priests of the Crimson Order, cloaked in their brown robes and chanting a prayer ritual. In their hands were torches and daggers, and as they recited the ancient words that Hans couldn't make out, they waved their torches in odd angles, their daggers pressing increasingly close to their forearms. With a raise of their torch arm, the flowing sleeve of their cloaks fell to the elbow, and they touched the blades to their forearms, the chants growing louder and more aggressive.

Hans narrowed his eyes as the priests drew trickles of blood, as their torches were held high above their heads, the smoke billowing up into the endlessly high ceiling of the cavern. It was a monthly ritual, according to what Lord Magnus had told him back when Hans was still masquerading as a loyal acolyte. The ritual would cleanse the priests of their trespasses, their blood shed under the cover of the holy fire of their gods, their slates wiped clean and their consciences pardoned to carry on killing or scheming in the name of the deities they served.

It was something Hans always found amusing. Real power lived in their cages, yet they were too foolish to realise it. Only their foolish beliefs and traditions kept them anchored to mediocrity, fighting a war from the shadows they had no hope of winning. Well, not anymore at least. The Crimson Order answered to him now, and they would carry out his every command as long as he promised to bring purge the world of sorcerers and bring peace. A promise he had no intention of upholding, of course. There was only one agenda he served, and it wasn't the Order's Holy Crusade. It was his own.

As the ritual came to an end, he caught sight of the Order's High Priest - Lord Magnus - at the very centre of the proceedings. The old man looked more weathered than before, the drive to fulfil the Holy Crusade dampened. Hans could guess why.

"Ignahon Malkovtoh," Lord Magnus said to close the ritual, holding Hans' gaze.

"Ignahon Malkovtoh," the priests of the Crimson Order echoed throughout the cavern.

As Lord Magnus walked towards Hans, many of the priests began to notice the Emperor was in the cavern, freezing and stopping their own hushed conversations to stand. To stand like mindless sheep awaiting the voice of their better to dismiss them.

With a small nod, Hans signalled for the priests to carry on what they were doing. They started to hurry away from where they were gathered, but Hans lifted a hand, and all stopped.

"Mage Slayers, remain." He eyed the assassins among the rest of the ordinary priests. Over the past years of working alongside them, he'd finally gotten familiar with their faces. Once an enigma to him, they were now like an open book. He knew all their abilities, their limitations, their insecurities, their fears…everything.

It was a little disappointing actually. He once thought of the Mage Slayers as untouchable, powerful demon hosts that weren't even human. But now that he himself was a demon host - far more powerful than all of them put together - he realised they weren't as great as he had imagined.

Lord Magnus cleared his throat as he stopped before Hans. "Your Imperial Majesty," the old man grated quietly, his voice full of spite. "I would greatly appreciate if you would reserve me some dignity, some control. After all, I am still the High Priest of the Crimson Order."

"High Priest you may be," Hans smirked. "But you as well as everyone down here knows that the Crimson Order answers to me." He turned to the Mage Slayers forming up behind Lord Magnus. "Isn't that right?"

The Mage Slayers dipped their heads silently, their eyes hooded beneath the brown cloaks draped over their heads.

"I want the searches doubled," Hans said in a loud voice. "The Blitzguard is doing everything to hunt down the Equalitar, but I need you to speed things up. I want the rebels found and crushed decisively." He clenched his gloved fist tightly. "Only then will we be able to focus on the real goal at hand. Wiping the sorcerers from this world and fulfilling the Holy Crusade. I promise you, together, we will rid the world of sorcery and restore peace to mankind."

The Mage Slayers dropped to a knee. "Ignahon Malkovtoh."

"Ignahon Malkovtoh," Hans repeated, his eyes gleaming. "Now go, prepare yourselves. Move out after curfew and find the Equalitar."

Hans watched with the High Priest as the Mage Slayers moved off to the other parts of the catacomb. He couldn't help the smirk that refused to leave his lips as he turned back to Magnus. "There is something else I need from you."

"What more do you want from us?" Magnus hissed. "I have given you everything. Authority. The Mage Slayers. Access to all the influence the Order has."

"No, Your Eminence," Hans put a hand on the High Priest's brittle shoulder. "All I wanted, I've taken of my own accord. But there is still one more thing."

Magnus narrowed his eyes. "And what would that be?"

"Take me to the demons."

The High Priest stared at him with a mix of confusion and indignation. "I don't understand. You said you control the Crimson Order. Why do you need my permission to see the demons when you could go yourself?"

"Because I would hate having to break the locks. This is my stronghold, after all." Hans relished the look of fury in the old man's eyes. He knew that Magnus was aware he would have to oblige him. Because the old man was afraid of losing whatever little authority he still had over the Crimson Order. Authority Hans allowed him to keep.

He followed the High Priest back down the familiar tunnels that led deep into the dungeons. The place where no one wanted to go, including Hans. He could count the number of times he'd been to this part of the dungeons on one hand, and those times had been purely out of necessity.

The cave was even chillier than he remembered. Even with the Eternal King inside him, Hans still couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling of having all the demons' eyes on him. They were hungry, thirsty, longing to be bound to a host again. But as he walked past them, the air changed. The demons that'd looked at him like sustenance suddenly backed away, repelled by his presence. It was as though they could sense true power. They knew the most powerful demon of all was inside him.

"Leave," he told Lord Magnus, who obliged him quickly. Even the High Priest of the Crimson Order wanted nothing to do with this place if he could help it.

The room was devoid of any other company apart from the demons in their cages. Hans walked between the narrow gap between the cells till he found the one he was looking for.

"Father Time," he called to the demon host whose back was to him.

The host slowly turned round, unseating himself from where he'd crossed his legs on the ground. Through long, unkempt black hair falling over his face, Father Time's piercing green eyes bore through Hans.

"So it is done," Father Time said, his voice a husky whisper that seemed to scream in Hans' ears. The demon showed its rotten teeth. "Emperor of Exon. And not just Emperor. Host to the Eternal King."

"Yes," Hans stood his ground. He had nothing to fear from Father Time. After all, it was thanks to him that Hans had been able to alter his future. If not for him, his end would've been a miserable one; defeated by the Warriors and forced to flee in exile, only to die in the snow. Alone and forgotten to history. But no longer.

"You succeeded, then. You changed time itself." Father Time cocked his head curiously. "But something is wrong, isn't it?"

"I need to know if this is the way things are supposed to happen," Hans said, almost desperately. "I am in control, yet I feel it slowly slipping away. Things are not how I imagined them to be." He grabbed the bars of the cell, leaning in close to Father Time. "I need you to see my future again. Tell me what I need to do to set things right."

Father Time smiled a chilling toothy grin. "Of course. Your hands, please."

Removing his gloves, Hans laid his palms in Father Time's and closed his eyes. He'd been here once before, and knew what to expect. He closed his eyes as the demon's claws dug into his skin, drawing blood. And then he waited for the jolt, the spark that would burst into a coruscation of blinding light. The vision that would show him everything he needed to know.

Yet, it never came.

Hans opened his eyes. "What's happening?"

Father Time looked straight at him with those piercing green eyes. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Hans demanded angrily. "You know the past, present and future! Tell me what you see!"

"I cannot." The demon looked unsettled. "For the first time, I am unable to see."

"Unable?"

"The timeline is in flux," Father Time explained. "Which means that someone apart from yourself is manipulating time. Changing history. Changing the future."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

Growling, Hans tore his hands away from Father Time's grip, breathing hard and fast. "No, no, no." He clutched his head, upsetting his perfectly immaculate hair. "This cannot be happening."

You know what you have to do, the Eternal King boomed within him, his words filling every void in Hans' confused mind. Listen to me.

"What do you want from me?" Hans snarled aloud, his own voice echoing through the prison cave and drawing the attention of all the other caged demons.

The time has come. Your reign is unsecured, and you finally acknowledge your lack. Two years, it took. But it is finally time.

"Time for what?" Hans snapped.

Time for our quest to begin. We must seek out the Volkron orbs.

Author's Commentary:

Han's duplicity of personality is completely by design. To the Warriors, they see Hans as a suave, cool, level-headed evil genius, who seems to have everything under control. In the room, he is the one who holds all the cards and is always ten steps ahead of our heroes.

But behind closed doors, when he is all alone, we see the doubt and insecurity creeping in. We see another facet of his character: an insecure man with a lack of control, trying to get a grip on his temper and instability, not to mention the power struggle between himself and the demon that he allowed to reside within him. And it looks like he is losing. It really raises the question at the end of the day: who is in control? The Eternal King? Or Hans? That's for you to decide, and for you to find out.