Chapter 47: Making a Big Deal Out of 19 Matters

Chapter 47: 19. Making a Scene

Darcus turned and waved his hand, and the nobles and soldiers began to exit the room one after another.

"Edmund! Chop off all the heads and pile them up in the manor."

"Rain, take a squad of soldiers and search this building thoroughly to see if there is anything unusual."

Darcus issued two commands in succession.

Inside the manor, cold lizards were greedily devouring the corpses on the ground, while soldiers worked in groups of three to deliver finishing blows and sever heads.

Two beastmasters dragged a Duruch, bound in steel chains, and threw him to the ground. The Duruch was still writhing and struggling. Darcus spotted the Thorn-Spike insignia on the man's neck and nodded. One of the beastmasters pulled out a dragon-sinew whip and lashed him directly.

Darcus smacked his lips and said, "Today is a good day. The head of the Thorn-Spike family has lost two sons in a single day; truly tragic news." After speaking, he laughed, then added, "Young Lord, if only I were the youngest son of the Thorn-Spike family to protect, but alas, you are not."

One-Ear would have no chance to go find his powerful uncle; he was bound by Kallen with steel chains, though they hadn't been heated red. Darcus waved his hand and called Alisha over as well. "You and Kallen head back in a moment and deliver him to the Night Watch Castle. If he's lucky, this pathetic One-Ear might even catch the last ship to Nagalonde to pay respects to the Great Witch King, His Majesty Malekith. I believe His Majesty will give him a 'fruitful' reception."

Alisha turned to look at One-Ear. His mouth was gagged, so even if he had poison in his teeth, he couldn't use it. His eyes were filled with despair and pleading; his fate was going to be horrific.

Darcus had no interest in hearing his story—none of that nonsense about being forced or coerced. Nor was he foolish enough to keep One-Ear by his side to teach him magic. As a direct descendant of the Scourge of Hell, he would inevitably have to deal with Witch King Malekith sooner or later; he might even have to serve as an adjutant or a Postmaster for a time. If there was the scent of magic on him, would Malekith not notice? Even if the ancestor Alandrian were still alive, it wouldn't help. Darcus didn't want to go looking for trouble; if he needed sorcerers, he could just ask his family.

"The big guy eats with such gusto, it's making me hungry. It's quite miraculous that there are no Khaine assassins here."

Flanes said respectfully, "My Lord, people are quite well-informed in Krakalonde; they wouldn't dare touch such bad luck."

Darcus said indifferently, "I'll take your word for it. What are those mercenaries still doing here? They truly value Sovereignty over their own lives, daring to take any job."

"My Lord, mercy! Mercy! These nobles said they were ambushing his brother; we didn't mean to offend the Scourge of Hell family, My Lord, mercy!"

This was a matter of information disparity. Without it, one wouldn't even know how they died; the mercenary captain had led his team straight into the abyss. No matter what those mercenaries said, Darcus would never spare them. There was no mercy or "rehabilitation" in Duruch society. On the contrary, these Duruch would view mercy as weakness and an opportunity to strike. Wouldn't that just be asking for trouble?

The rule of the Duruch high command was direct and brutal: extreme fear and pure violence!

As a member of the Scourge of Hell family, Darcus's first priority was to maintain the family's rule in Krakalonde.

By throwing Wote to Darcus and suggesting Maranual marry the jewel of the Heart-Eater family, Nyuker was clearly testing the capabilities of these two brothers.

The slaughter began again on the other side. Darcus picked up the Echo Drum and began beating it erratically; he was waiting.

When the slaughter ended, the drumming stopped.

Rain came out and said to Darcus with disappointment, "My Lord, I searched the area thoroughly, but I only found some letters. I didn't find what we were looking for." Then, Rain doubted himself: *Or is my experience too shallow? Did I miss it?*

Was there really no scene of Slaanesh, the God of Love and Art, that Darcus had been anticipating? But he had no desire to go back in and search again.

"Carnival time again! Go find anything valuable! Dismissed!"

Inside the manor, aside from Darcus's men, there were no other Duruch left standing. There were only groups of shackled slaves locked in the stables, unable to run even if they wanted to.

The soldiers—men whose minds were filled only with class struggle, the counter-attack against Ulthuan, slaughter, looting, and Khaine—cheered and went off to scavenge for wealth. This was a rare opportunity; they were paid fixed wages without fighting. Although most soldiers had already received spoils from the Trial of the Haksier Voyage, which Duruch would ever say they had too much Sovereignty?

"This is tricky. These Duruch don't need land either. Old Qin? North or South? Military districts? Warlords? The Golden People? Later Jin? Good heavens, am I the Jiedushi myself? I'll have to write an investigation report when I have time; after all, I was once a successor."

Wote walked out carrying his brother's head. Darcus jerked his chin toward him, indicating there was another brother on the ground. This time, Wote was efficient. He didn't give any villainous acceptance speech; he simply took out a serrated dagger to bleed his brother's neck. Wote watched calmly as his brother drowned in his own blood before swiftly severing the head.

After finishing this, he knelt before Darcus and said incoherently, "My Lord, I am sorry, I apologize. Who would care about a crippled Duruch? On the surface, Father liked me, but in reality, he just wanted to see us sons fight one another so we wouldn't covet his position. Now, I have even dragged you into this. I am sorry, My Lord."

Flanes and Bayne tactfully stepped aside.

"Oh, oh, oh, that's enough."

Darcus had been enjoying the breeze in the plaza for half an hour, while Wote and Bayne stood by in a daze. Flanes was pulled into the building by Rain, who, seemingly refusing to accept defeat, went to search one more time.

Several soldiers pushed three carts out of the warehouse, and the rest of the soldiers followed, loading the wounded, the fallen, and the loot onto the carts. Darcus also saw several strangely styled murals and leather goods.

"My Lord, the looting is complete. We searched the basements and secret compartments; there was indeed nothing."

Soon, the soldiers were lined up. Edmund and several captains searched them one by one to prevent hoarding. The soldiers were beaming, seemingly very satisfied with today's slaughter and looting.

The heads were piled in the manor, with Wote's two brothers' heads placed at the very top. Darcus nodded in satisfaction.

"Wote, once we return, tally the spoils. Give me a list before the distribution."

The soldiers knelt in unison and shouted, "Thank you, My Lord!"

"Bring out the slaves and burn this manor to the ground!"

Darcus intended to tighten the noose and make a scene—to make those rats start moving.