Jürgen burst through the doors of the Khagan's throne room. Great Khagan Xantè Estrin sat in the throne crafted by Estrin of the Colestis Imperii, the first Khagan of Dominium Estrin of the Northwest. All that had changed was the name of the empire, the Estrin Dominion of the Northwest and East – and the imposing chair's occupant up on its raises platform.
Xantè Estrin was one of the most powerful Ætharchs, and by extension, in all of Empyrea. Yet he was not the traditional Estrinite. He was mind over matter in the flesh, brain over brawn. In other words, an underweight man who stood at roughly 157.48 cm (5 ft 2), which well below the male average for the Northwest and Empyrea as a whole.
A small man with well documented overly aggressive and domineering social behaviour to compensate for his short stature as the ruler of an entire region was never going to end well. Most people were terrified of the man who had been called the “Butcher of the East” and the, “ Enforcer of Æonex”, but Jürgen did not fear him.
“Jiro! What is the meaning of this? I have told you to knock before entering on several occasions, yet you now dare to ram through my doors? Temji should have lived, and you should have died, son.” Xantè sounded more disappointed than angry.
Jürgen spotted the wife of his host, Jennifer Astrai Estrin-Romanakov, hiding behind one of the large pillars on both sides of the Khagan's throne. Her eyes locked onto him, and she knew who was in control of her husband.
“The old man wants us to tell him the meaning of this.” Muttered the darker personality of Gur Khan Jiro.
“Oh sorry, Sonny, are you deaf as well as mental?” Boomed Jiro's father snarkily, “Stop talking to yourself and answer me for once! Why are you so weak, so useless....and ever so disappointing?”
“There is a problem, Mighty Khagan.” He answered neutrally.
“Oh a problem, is there? Indeed, there is: you are being the antonym of filial, second Khan.” Extra emphasis was put on the words “Second Khan” as it was meant as an insult because it implied that the Patriarch of the House of Estrin saw his only remaining child as unworthy of the title of Gur Khan and status as heir to the Estrin Dominion.
Jürgen saw it for what it was.
“Khagan Xantè Estrin, forty-ninth ruler of the Dominion, and husband to Khatun Xarai Estrin nèe Börte... we find you in violation of Estrin's final command.”
Xantè turned a similar shade of red to a beetroot at what was among the most offensive things that his son could have implied.
“Y-you...you...Do you have even the fastest idea in that dullard's mind of yours what you have just implied? Estrins' last words were, "Let thy dying breath be a roar of defiance in the face of your assailant, not a whimper of submission. Let thy name be whispered in awe by those who come after thou, and let them tremble at the thought of bearing thy mantle after thou dies as thou hast lived: by the blade. This is a slight upon me as a ruler upon my reign, longer than any other that came before me, and as a father, the son having the spine all of a sudden to say such things.” Xantè was becoming increasingly enraged as this continued, but Jürgen knew that the man would have to restrain himself.
“Of course we do. There are two minds in this body. Your son and heir, Jiro, and me, Jürgen.”
“Listen! I can contact the Academy of the Adept to ask them to send an Adept Psychological to help with this.” He pleaded.
“Why? It is time for you to be proud of Jiro for once.” He said as he drew a bloodstained dagger with a serrated edge. It was a particularly difficult to forge knife known as a Sword Breaker. The teeth on one side could catch a blade and twist to break it while the other was sharp enough to form a bleeding edge.
The same knife that Jiro grimaced at every time he saw it because Jürgen used it to punish him.
“Proud? Finally , my heir has the guts to take my place. But you are too impatient! You must defeat me in single combat as traditional demands. And I must have Æonex anchor himself to you , or the connection will break, and he will only have Malum.” Xantè was on the verge of weeping tears of joy as he spoke in a voice that crackled with emotions.
“Alas, you and your dammed cultists have interfered enough. If I am to be left alone by Jiro, then we must never allow ourselves to join the Covenant. We shall never be an Ætharch, no matter what that whispering schemer offers. Everyone who is not insane or paid for knows that all the Tormentor does is lie. He lies to Empyrea, to his worshipers, his remaining sister Æraxis, and he definitely lies to you and Malum – I hear the good Earl is rarely seen in public, why would he be in poor health, father – but never to Jürgen.” He said calmly in his deeper voice.
“What do you mea-“
Jürgen, or Jiro, or whoever was the hier to the Dominion at this point, moved at an inhuman pace to close the distance between himself and his father.
Xantè was dragged from his throne and hurdled down the raised dais with brutish strength.
The Khagan had burst his lip – which was bleeding dark crimson all over his mouth – and broken his nose from the fall.
“You...must...not...” He spluttered in a voice turn nasal from the broken nose and weak by fear.
“Must not do what?”
“He...Æonex will know. You will be..b-be punished by it.”
“Really? If we are cast into the Æbyss upon death like the Covenant of the Void teaches us, then you can tell him that the new Khagan has a message for him.”
“Wha-?”
Jürgen smiled at the beaten and broken man coldly. “Tell him politely that should, in all his godly glory and power, know that he will..MIND HIS OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!”
Xantè had been wrong: he had disobeyed the last words of Estrin. Because tears rolled down his cheek as Jürgen cut his throat with the sharp edge of his knife. The Khagan gasped and gurgled fruitlessly as he clutched at his neck.
The Ætharch stopped moving, his once glowing blue eyes were glazed over and about as lifeless as a stuffed animal.
All hail the fiftieth Great Khagan of the Dominion, Jiro Estrin.
“W-what have I done?!” Wailed a distraught Jiro, who was in control of his own body now.
He stopped and listened carefully as he noticed a faint taping noise.
Tap
Tap
TAP
It was getting louder.
An unnaturally pale man with visible veins under the spectral skin that was not covered. Bloodshot, red eyes locked onto the new sovereign before narrowing in a mixture of pity and contempt.
He bent his somewhat stooped back in a low bow before opening his mouth – filled with blindingly white teeth – to speak.
“Greetings, Khagan Jiro. I am ze Großfürst of Eclipze-Verbrechersyndikat, Felix Ålrune Brottslight.
Jiro cowered in fear upon hearing the surname Brottslight. This was the same man that had threatened him in that letter.
“We have so much to talk about.” He said pleasantly with his hands behind the back.
Jiro realised that only one person could save him here.
“No! We are not coming with you!” Replied Jürgen in a manner of undeniable hostility .
Brottslight said nothing and simply aimed the Æther Pistol that he had been concealing behind his back directly at the newly made sovereign.
“Drop it.” He said carefully. Jiro did as he was told.
“We art going on a merry trip to ze Dependency of Skála, the Warden is ze most generous man, for he has agreed to welcome ze mistress onto der island fortress.”
“A whor-“ Began one of personalities
Brottslight smacked him across the face with the pistol.
“You shall not speak ill of ze mistress again. Khagan Jiro, or Jürgen or whatever it iz that is called will meet ze most impatient woman as zoon az possible, ja?”
The doors banged open as a woman burst through it, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“TUMEN GAURD! FOLLOW ME!” She bellowed.
Brottslight ducked behind cover with his pistol thrust up against his hostages chin.
The Großfürst did not notice another woman creep out from behind the throne and spirt out of the room.
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For he was too occupied with reaching into the folds of his black cloak....
ns3.144.250.101da2
