415 words wrote:Consequences
You couldn’t plan for every eventuality. Arcturus knew that. There would always be loopholes and unforeseen results, no matter how careful you were. Such is the danger of working with other living, breathing, thinking viscets.
But even he hadn’t thought this many wrenches would be thrown into his plans.
On paper, or in his head, it was simple. Remove the monarchs- remove, he thinks, makes it sound so clean and simple, so unlike the distastefully messy reality- and step in while the country is in turmoil. But the living, breathing, thinking loose ends that are other viscets had ruined it all. Arcturus clenched his jaw and stared down at the paper being shown to him. Written in a dark, serious font, the poster promised a reward for any information on the prince.
Lucius Boreas Fractalus. Arcturus sent the viscet clutching the paper away with a curt jerk of the chin and turned about, his gaze darkening. Right now, in the wake of his crumbling plans and his shaky grasp on the power he wanted, Artcurus desired nothing more than someone to blame. That someone came in the form of the youngest prince of the deceased monarchs, about whom rumors had been spreading at a ridiculous rate.
They claimed that young Lucius had survived, that he had joined with dissenters in an attempt to take back his throne, and all manner of nonsense. Arcturus thought of what he knew of the prince- he’d supposedly been an undisciplined fellow, certainly not fit to lead a military effort. The prince might not even be alive- not all the dead from the explosion at the palace had been counted yet. He could conceivably alive, Arcturus supposed- it wouldn’t be the first time he’d heard of the prince sneaking out of the palace- but it could just as easily be mere rumor, Viscets clinging to the hope that someone was still out there to depose Arcturus.
The opposition wasn’t just coming from outside his circle, though- Arcturus was annoyed to find that even some of his own followers were having second thoughts, shocked and saddened by the scope of the destruction they’d caused in their mission. Some had had family or friends, cooks or servants or minor nobles who’d been killed in the blast.
Something so huge as destroying the entire seat of government was bound to have consequences, as Arcturus was belatedly finding out. Living, breathing, thinking others had proved to be variables of the worst kind thus far.