Chapter 469: Another Holy War

"Father." Soheil walked alongside Cyrus inside the Nassour palace. Cyrus, much like his son, had a cold demeanour as serne could hear other than their guards, "The time to strike is now. The Severians have isolated themselves and leave only the Gotics as friends."

"He has married the Ammerian girl," Cyrus countered, his voice deep and powerful.

"A marriage that is only on paper. The Ammerians have no love for Severia and won’t care if they are invaded," Soheil calmly said before looking at the servants around, fanning them. Waving them off, the two made a small distance away, making sure no-one could hear other than their guards, "The marriage is nothing but a way to defend the East when going west. My source tells me Ammeria won’t provide any military aid."

"And what of Bactria and Prodora. We judge the puppets of Sol for fighting one another, yet the only reason we brothers and sisters haven’t torn one another apart is because there is no opportunity to strike other than small skirmishes that mean nothing."

Soheil smiled, letting out a little chuckle, "Father, I have yet to marry, and the Prodoran King has a daughter. I know you have been keeping unwed to not allow me to amass to much power, but this has gone on long enough. If we don’t act now, we may never get the chance to destroy the Holy Seat once and for all."

"You are too old to be unmarried still." Cyrus said with a deep voice, "But you have promises to those you will rule over. They are already displeased that you have a mistress and two bastards."

"I marry the Prodoran princess, then I will marry that woman in the west. Finally, if I am allowed, I will marry my mistress; of course, my children with her will not get the throne." Cyrus stayed silent, thinking on the matter. Looking at Soheil, he wondered. He trusted his son enough now not to fear him taking the throne from him, but he couldn’t tell if Soheil understood the consequences of what he was proposing.

Lowering his head, he smiled to himself, "I do not like that I am dancing to the tune of the Blood Child."

"Who cares what they say." Soheil thinly smiled, "We shall write our own history when the Holy seat falls. Everyone calls the Divine King the sword of Khors when he destroyed the Holy Seat, but the reality was that he saw the problems in the Church and Severia at the time. Sure, he was a genius, but history easily forgets he was an opportunist."

Soheil leaned closer, "Imagine it now, Father. You will be raised onto the pedestal of the likes of the Divine King; the man, no, the hero who reignited the struggle against Sol." Soheil could see Cyrus on the brink of folding, "Father." He paused, letting Cyrus prepare himself. There was one thing that would get him more annoyed than anything: "In the future, when people see this moment, they will remember the Blood Child. They will remember Alfred Lindonfall, the man who stood against the Church and Severia alone. And they will remember he won. They will sing his name and forget about the rest of us."

Soheil watched. He could see Cyrsu breathing slightly heavier; the mere thought of being an after memory in someone else’s reign was something he couldn’t accept, especially when that person was a Blessed of Sol, the ones who led the charge in the corruption of mankind. Cyrus took a deep breath and dryly chuckled, "Send out my call. All will prepare for Holy War against the Church. We either destroy them or they destroy us."

Soheil paused at the declaration. He expected war, but not Holy War. It had only happened twice in Khroish history: the Divine Kings’ first war against the Church and Prodora’s final rallying cry before the end of the Years of Darkness. Soheil took a deep breath. He didn’t even know if anyone not of the Divine Kings’ direct bloodline could call a Holy War.

"Are you sure, Father?"

"Do not make me repeat myself after trying to get me to go to war for so long, Soheil. The Followers have been asleep for too long. Send my summons. The Church will fall and the world will call me with the respect of the Divine King."

"If that is what you command." Soheil bowed and walked off. His pleasant smile dropped out of sight of Cyrus. Biting his fingernail, he paced back and forth. "Shit. To call a Holy War. Is he insane?" Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his nail and saw that he was making it too short. Tearing the part that got loose off, he spat it on the floor and fixed himself. "It’s not over yet. I can still have the credit." Taking a deep breath, he wore his thin smile and carried on, calling servants over to fan him as he walked.

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Resting in his study, Alfred leaned back in his chair and, with his eyes closed, rested before he got back to work. Although he didn’t wish to be disturbed, he knew that some things couldn’t be helped and could only click his tongue at the sound of someone knocking.

"Enter."

The door opened and Abu walked in, storming into the room. "Why did you allow Edwad to have such a lesson at such a young age?"

Alfred opened one eye and sighed, "Are you seriously asking me this?"

"This isn’t something a boy that young should experience. It is not right for them. They don’t get better, they become sick in the head." Abu held back from screaming, but his words were passionate, sounding like they came from experience.

"I killed my first man when I was twelve, Abu." Pushing himself up from his desk, his eyes narrowed, staring into Abu’s own, "Had I not had that valuable lesson, I would not have forged what I have now. Edward is young, yes, but he is also Crown Prince, a boy bound to a chair, who witnesses death as a baby. He will never be right, no matter what we do for him. If that is the case, I will harden his heart."

"HE ENJOYS IT!" Abu cried. The door flew open, two guards charging in with blades drawn. With a wave of his hand, Alfred had them stand down and return outside.

"Good. Then teach him what is right and wrong. Let him enjoy the act, but know that he mustn’t indulge it like a drug. I can’t count on Horace to teach him morality, and I can’t teach him to be a firm leader who does what he must and a kind soul. They don’t work together. Teach him the right kind of murder and the wrong kind. Tell him there is a time to enjoy it and a time when he must not." Sitting back into his seat, Alfred let out a deep breath, "But don’t try and force it out of him. He needs something that lets him feel in control, and as bad as it is, he found it."

Looking at the stack of paper he had to read through and sign of on, Alfred sighed and looked back up at Abu, "Is that all?"

"Your Majesty..." Abu couldn’t believe what he had heard and stared with sad eyes. Alfred weakly smiled and lowered his head.

"I’m a piece of shit for letting this happen, Abu, but in my position, I have to toughen Edwards’ heart." Alfred grabbed the pen before him, playing with it in both hands. "Don’t worry too much. Despite what I said, I don’t want my son to become a sadist. I will teach him right and wrong, but I need your help. He won’t listen to me as much as he does to you. Can I trust you with this?"

Abu took a deep breath. He hated the command, but knowing Edward’s best chance at being a good person was himself, he silently nodded. Getting a smile from Alfred, he turned around and left, not bothering to be polite after the conversation.