Lords of the Wars
The morning after the gala, Veridia was a city transformed. Every digital billboard, every morning news segment, and every tabloid headline featured the same grainy image: Arjun Vardhan, standing on....
The morning after the gala, Veridia was a city transformed. Every digital billboard, every morning news segment, and every tabloid headline featured the same grainy image: Arjun Vardhan, standing on the stage of the Zenith Tower, looking down at a cowering Cyrus Malakor. The narrative had shifted overnight. The "Dead Hero" was now the "Living Vengeance." Arjun sat in the small, sun-drenched library of the Vardhan Manor. It was the only room in the house that still felt like home, mostly because the Malakor bailiffs hadn't realized the value of the leather-bound books lining the walls. He was cleaning a disassembled handgun, his movements rhythmic and mechanical. Meera entered, holding a tablet that was buzzing incessantly with notifications. "The phone hasn't stopped ringing, Arjun. Former business partners, cousins who disappeared five years ago, even the Mayor’s office. Everyone wants to know if the rumors are true." "The rumors are whatever they need them to be," Arjun said, not looking up from the steel slide of the weapon. "To the people, I am a miracle. To the Malakors, I am a virus. And to the Syndicate, I am a target." "You reached out to Silas again?" Meera asked, sitting across from him. "I had to. The gala was a provocation. I stepped on the tail of the snake. Now, the snake is going to strike back. But the Malakors are cowards; they won't use the police now that Commander Hatcher is watching them. They will go outside the system." As if on cue, the heavy front door of the manor echoed with a series of rhythmic knocks. It wasn't the aggressive pounding of the debt collectors. It was a precise, measured sound. Arjun reassembled the pistol in three seconds, tucked it into the small of his back, and stood up. "Stay in the library, Meera. Do not come out until I say so." He walked to the foyer. Through the stained glass of the front door, he saw a tall, slender figure dressed in a charcoal suit and a wide-brimmed hat. The man stood perfectly still, his hands folded in front of him. Arjun opened the door. "The North Wind has a long memory," the man said. He removed his hat, revealing a face that was more a map of scars than skin. One eye was clouded over with a milky cataract, while the other was as sharp as a hawk's. Arjun relaxed his posture, though his hand remained near his waist. "Kael. I thought you were retired in the Southern Isles." "I was," Kael replied, his voice a low gravelly hum. "But when the news reached the coast that the Lord of the Northern Front had risen from the grave, my retirement suddenly felt very boring. Also, there is a bounty on your head that could buy a small country." "Who issued it?" "The Malakor patriarch, Elias. He doesn't care about the land deed as much as he cares about the humiliation of his son. He has put out a contract through the Obsidian Circle." Arjun’s jaw tightened. The Obsidian Circle was not a local gang. They were an international syndicate of elite assassins, many of them former special forces operators who had gone rogue. If they were involved, the stakes had just shifted from a local power struggle to a professional war. "Come in," Arjun said, stepping aside. They sat in the dim light of the foyer. Kael produced a small electronic jammer from his pocket and set it on the table. It emitted a low-frequency hum, ensuring no directional microphones could pick up their conversation. "The Circle has sent three operatives," Kael explained. "They call them the Trinity. A sniper, a demolitions expert, and a close-quarters specialist. They arrived in Veridia four hours ago." "And you?" Arjun asked. "Did you come here to warn me or to collect the bounty?" Kael laughed, a dry sound that ended in a cough. "I owe you my life, Arjun. At the Siege of the Black Pass, you carried me three miles through a blizzard while half the enemy army was breathing down our necks. I don't care about Malakor gold. But I do care about a fair fight. And three-on-one against the Trinity isn't a fight;
Disclaimer: This show may contain expletives, strong language, and mature content for adult listeners, including sexually explicit content and themes of violence. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, businesses, places or events is coincidental. This show is not intended to offend or defame any individual, entity, caste, community, race, religion or to denigrate any institution or person, living or dead. Listener's discretion is advised.
