“Crown Prince Anlaf, has he been having your dreams?”
Sulla spoke with authority to the sybil, who stood in the red-carpeted meeting hall of the Kinshra.
“He has,” the hag replied. “He will soon be paralysed with fear, unable to make a decision, open to the suggestions given by our supporters in Burthorpe. Through his indecisiveness the Imperial Guard will be redundant.”
Sulla turned to the men gathered around the table. They were the most influential followers of the Kinshra, and they had sworn loyalty to him after he had assumed command. He knew how little their oaths were worth, however.
“Are you sure of this, Sulla?” Lord Daquarius asked. Sulla despised him, but was too wise to make an enemy of him, for Lord Daquarius was a cunning man who was popular due to his well-known concern for his men. Sulla possessed no such weaknesses.
“I am,” he replied. “All we require is the will. For long years we have held ourselves back from interfering in Asgarnian politics, and the Knights of Falador have grown strong, taking advantage of King Vallance’s illness. The followers of Zamorak are persecuted throughout the kingdom. How long will it be before the blessed name of Zamorak is forgotten in Asgarnia, unless we-his sworn followers-do something to remind the people? Our ancestors helped found Asgarnia with King Raddallin. Will we dishonour their memory by letting our enemies consolidate their grip? I say no!”
Several of the men growled approval, and even Lord Daquarius nodded.
Sulla raised his hand to silence them.
“We have the weapons needed to break the walls of Falador, and we have spies everywhere. We have agents monitoring those who come and go from the Wizards’ Tower in the far south. We have agents patrolling the greatest city of humankind, Varrock, in neighbouring Misthalin.” He paused. “We even have the promises of the goblin chiefs, who are angered by the unfair treaties they have been forced to sign by the knights, requiring them to cede their lands to human farmers, driving them farther and farther north.
“For many years now I have worked toward this moment. I have been called extreme, and some have decried my methods as too violent.” Sulla smiled as he noted the amused looks on the faces of the men seated before him. “But over the course of years we have exhausted diplomacy, and only war remains!”
His captains hammered their fists upon the tabletop, indicating their agreement, and Sulla looked with satisfaction into their feverish eyes. He knew they would back him, for it had been many years since the Kinshra had ridden forth to open battle against their hated enemies. Many years during which their anger had only grown.
Some hours later, when only Sulla and the sybil remained, his wandering mind focused upon the girl. He had continued to dream of her, and he knew not why.
“She is alive. I know she is,” he hissed to the sybil, his fists raised in sudden hatred.
“Do you fear her, Sulla?” the old woman said in a crackling voice.
He didn’t answer, ignoring her and her evil laughter, for she alone had the power to mock him now. Instead he spun and walked away.
But as he left the hall he knew with certainty that he did fear the girl. For he sensed in her a nemesis, someone as violent and angry as he was-someone who was set solely and absolutely upon his destruction.