Ozarin Palevar: A Short Story

2504 Words11 Pages

Blood on our Hands Ozarin: Ozarin Palevar rolled up his sleeves, and, sighing, headed into the large Room of Parliament. Looking around, he sighed again. The walls were ordained with beautiful tapestries, gold-framed works of art, and other displays of decadence and extravagance. Looking at his fellow nobles, he observed the fine silk clothes he wore, the excessive jewelry that sat upon their fat fingers and ordained their ears. He bowed towards His Majesty, Volkrin the 5th. Outwardly he smiled, but inwardly he sneered. Volkrin was a handsome man, a great person, and an even better ruler. Shame he had to die. Shuffling over to his seat, Ozarin turned around and dropped his considerable weight onto the cushion with an audible flop! Locking his gaze with Ataulf, a fellow noble, he gave her the slightest of nods. Closing his eyes, he played the last meeting over and over again in …show more content…

The Triad has turned upon each other! The military is in complete disorder! A plague has spread throughout the Kingdom of France! The king, as well of Argan and Andrev Leinster of House Hereford, and Throkell of House Wessex, have fallen victim to it! Ozarin Palevar, head of House York and once the Kings Trusted Advisor, had been declared our glorious King! Tossing the paper to the floor, Ozarin chuckled, sounding dismal and depressed. An amused smile on her face, Arauth asked “And what befell Argan? I was under the impression that he had secured immunity, from none less than yourself, Illec” “I lied. He was quite irritating.” I agree. A glorious, terrifying voice sounded in their mind. It rotted through their defenses, and smashed their mind with otherworldly and ungodly power, and the three most powerful people within thousands of miles quickly fell down to their knees, giving up their souls and turning their backs to which they once held