Inspired by reading Seven Blades in Black by Sam Sykes, I made this while trying to emulate the style. I highly recommend the book. Please enjoy my brain nugget.
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“Great General Baltha!” Said the messenger, running frantically into the office. Bethany Burlesque Baltha spared an irate glance at the frantic messenger.
“Yes?” She said, voice creaking from the remnants of a cold she was battling. The stress of running the Palace of Great Deeds had been ruining her sleep schedule which had made her condition rather worrisome. But she couldn’t let down the Glorious One, or more importantly, Abigail. She pushed the thought away from her mind. She realized she hadn’t been paying attention to the messenger.
“Uh, what was that?” She said, “Catch your breath and start over.”
The messenger seemed thankful and took a few deep breaths before speaking again. “Like I said, the Crypt of Kings was found open this morning.”
“Grave robbers?” She said and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wouldn’t think a General would have to instruct her forces to hunt down bandits.” She paused as a cold chill passed down her spine, “Unless there is more to this story?”
The messenger, steadied himself on a chair in front of her desk. She motioned for him to take a seat. He obliged and took another breath.
“We thought it was stranger for bandits to get this far into the Palace of Great Deeds without anyone noticing. So we went into the crypt and found there was only one tomb disturbed. One that we have all been instructed to stay far away from.” He paused as the realization sunk into her. She rose from her desk, her eyes deadly serious and focused on him.
“Show me.”
The Glorious Empire of Divinia held a great deal of the western continent with its heart beating in the capital city of Falk at the top of Mount Spire. Surrounding allies all held an important part of the Glorious Empire. And in Velkinrath, they had the Palace of Great Deeds. A glorified cemetery for the great martyrs and pillars of the nation. Though, that was just on the surface. Deep beneath the polished marble floors, a series of chambers held dire secrets. And among them was the body of the true pillar of the Glorious Empire.
Sir Rathus Kaine. First of the Glorious Empire. The Hero who sacrificed everything for the benefit of The Glorious One. He was buried in a very prestigious place, behind several layers of protective barrier. The scraps of which lay in shattered flecks around the feet of Baltha. She gazed, a pale expression of unrest sitting uncomfortably on her face, into the gaping maw of the opened crypt. The messenger stayed at the door behind her as instructed, but for a fleeting moment she really wanted to have another body there as a shield. Or better yet, she really wanted to turn tail and run back up to her desk and dive underneath and snatch that bottle of aged whiskey for a long and comforting pull. But this would demand a report. And she would need to add a very important detail. One that Abigail would be looking very keenly for. And one that, should she leave out, would reflect poorly on her maintaining the loving relationship her neck had with her head.
She steeled her resolve and pressed onward. The echoing sound of her boots in the stone corridor emphasized the feeling that she was alone in the tomb. And hopefully, that was true.
She reached the remnants of the chamber door leading into the tomb. There were large gashes on the metal door that had severed the layers of locking mechanisms. She felt a cold wind on the back of her neck, she fought her urge to cry out, and simply turned around slowly. All she saw was the messenger standing at the entrance, dutiful and at attention. Poor soul must have been anxious as hell. Seeing his superior meekly stumbling in the dark towards a room he never had any knowledge of. She cleared her throat and called out to him.
“Seems like the grave robbers were using some impressive tools.” She said, and to her credit, she almost believed it. But the gouges in the door were clearly rend from the inside of the room. The messenger nodded from his vantage point far away from her.
She turned back to the door and the room beyond. A cold sweat had begun to bead on her forehead. One last thing to check. Just a quick peek will do the trick. Then she could leave and file a report that there was just some burglars that need apprehending and she could go back to trying to drown troubling memories and nightmares.
She slipped her hand between the cracks in the door and felt for the special switch that deactivated the traps within the room. You could conceive that these traps were built to discourage the incredibly dedicated thief, but she knew there was another being that it was actually designed for. Several layers of powerful and painful magic pointed at the sarcophagus at the center of the tomb. To be fair, it was a rather splendid piece of work, that regal coffin. Draped in the wonderful colors of the Glorious Empire and sealed with hundreds of pounds of inert stone, sculpted to look like the late Rathus Kaine. Or at least, it would, were it not for the gaping scar that tore through the length of the elegant confinement. And by all accounts, that kind of rupture did not appear to come from the outside.
“Oh no,” Baltha said to herself. She began to contemplate her options. She could bring this intel to Abigail, now would be fine. But she knew the question would come.
“And the body?” She would ask. In a voice like honey. So sweet. So viciously sweet. You wouldn’t notice the poison until you were already a blue and bloated corpse.
So, with her fear of the known overpowering her fear of the unknown, Baltha tipped her head forward and looking into the regal coffin’s wound.
Within the sarcophagus, wrapped in the regalia he wore in life, lay the late Sir Rathus Kaine. Eyes closed gently as if in peaceful rest. Hands holding onto the sword given to him on the day his life was taken by an enraged elemental and he passed away for the benefit of the Glorious Empire.
She closed her eyes let out a heaving sigh of relief. The body was still there. Still dead. Whatever had happened here was very strange, but at least she could end her report and Abigail would not come after her.
“Did you miss me?” A voice said.
Her eyes snapped open, Kaine was looking up at her. His eyes open wide. Bright and filled with a light that was not human, or divine, something else. She felt the would fall out beneath her, dropping to her knees and scrambling back to the entrance to the tomb. There came a blast of wind as Kaine stepped beside her. The edge of his sword found its way under her chin.
“After all these years, you never visited.” He said, his voice was distant but she could feel it pounding in her head. “I guess I can’t blame you, what with these magical traps. Did you make these, Baltha? Traps always were your specialty.”
She swallowed hard, the edge of the blade biting gently into the skin of her throat. Her body trembled as she tried to lift herself away from the blade. She was so close to the door, to the trap switch, she could still make it out alive. She just needed to buy time.
“Please don’t kill me.” She said, choking back a sob. “I don’t want to die.”
The pressure against her throat lessened. “Oh dear, Baltha. I am not going to slit your throat.” He said and slipped the blade into the sheath at his side. “You’re just following orders.” His eyes danced with fire as he looked down at her. “Another dog of Abigail.”
“Yes,” She said, stumbling to her feet and falling against the door frame, “I was just a pawn. A tool.”
He tipped his head to the side, “Baltha, what are you doing?”
She jammed her hand into the door crack, “I’m putting you back in your box, Kaine!” She shouted and flicked the switch. The magic in the traps began to hum back to life.
“Aha, I see.” He said and smiled. “So that’s where it is.” The hum of the magic traps began to change tone to a rhythmic pulsing in and out. It sounded like a grumbling, gravelly echo. Like someone…snoring?
“You know Baltha,” He said, his form shivering and fading away to show her still standing over the sarcophagus, asleep on her feet. “You really should get more sleep. You’ll get nightmares.” He said and clapped his hands.
Baltha woke up with a start, standing in front of the sarcophagus, looking down into the gaping wound. The empty box presented the lovely interior of the royal coffin. She turned back to the door, to find Kaine standing there. His hand was slipped into the crack in the door.
“Goodbye Baltha.” The clock of the switch rang in her ears before being drowned out by the roar of the magical traps.
At the end of the corridor, the messenger barely had time to dive away from the blast of powerful magic that ripped out of the tomb. He scrambled to his feet and looked down the glassed corridor.
“General Baltha?” He called out.
There came no answer, but there was a whisper that came from behind him.
“You’re a messenger, right?”
The young messenger spun around to see an emaciated and ashen body wreathed in the scraps of tattered regal clothing, a dangerous blade hung at his hip. He placed a hand on the weapon and cleared his throat to insist a response.
“Y-yes, sir.” He said, fumbling to pull a notepad and everink quill out of his pockets.
“Good,” The shambling corpse said, his smile causing cracks to form at the edges of his face, “Tell Abigail I’m coming for a visit.”
The messenger scribbled on the pad. At the bottom of his notes, a flourished blank patch begged a name. He looked up to the imposing threat before him.
“Uh, who–“
“Me?” Said the crackling creature. It’s eyes flashed with a sickly light and his grin peeled back to reveal sharpened teeth. “I’m the Boogeyman.”