Hector sighed as he leaned back in his throne. Things have gotten stressful here in Akan-Dar, whispers of Pillar-Born hiding among the populace driving people to wild and barbaric acts. Hector himself had needed to intervene countless times to save lives, battering through raging crowds with his guards at his back. The Akan-Dari didn't seem to want to wait for each of the accused to be properly Sanctioned, opting instead to string up the accused right there on the spot. There were millions of citizens living inside Akan-Dars walls, statistically their fears of demigods walking amongst them were probably correct.
Hector hadn't been able to find any yet, but he'd heard about a Pillar-Born being killed by a Hoplite in the Faewood. The Ahkoolians thought that was his name, but Hector knew better. One of his brothers was here on Ahkoolis, and here he was, stuck managing his Block while the world prepared to tear itself apart while his brother was alone in the world. Things weren't so simple, unfortunately, he couldn't just leave his Block, his very presence was the only thing keeping order here nowadays… if he left, then his Seat would be seized by political rivals once his Block fell into chaos.
If that happened, he could kiss his chance at becoming Lord-Ruler goodbye. Akan-Dar needed a strong, wise hand to guide it into the future. The petty squabbling between Block-Lords held it back, if things remained this way, Akan-Dar would get nowhere. It would stagnate, falling apart slowly beneath incompetent leadership. If nothing changed, it would become an abandoned ruin like Akan-Var. So while he wanted nothing more than to go seek out his brother, whoever it was, he also couldn't abandon his station, not in such dangerous times. The most he could do was send an envoy to bring him here, but that in and of itself was dangerous, for if this Hoplite was still loyal to Terna, then he may stop at nothing to come and apprehend Hector.
Hector loved the men beneath his command, they were strong and stalwart warriors, but not even they could stand up against a Hoplite. He'd not lose them as he'd lost Jason all those years ago, he didn't want to lose anyone ever again. His fists clenched, eyes going wide for a brief instant.
Not ever, they're mine.
He shook his head, damn Draconic blood… It was hard to push such urges away, but with his faith in the Lord, he could overcome any trial of the mind. Being freed by the rebels had given him the opportunity to learn about the faiths of Earth's past, and out of all of them, Christianity had stuck out to him. Any man could overcome their evil nature if they tried hard enough, if they put their faith in the Lord. His current predicament had given him plenty of time to both build his faith, and to learn to resist his possessive nature. Even knowing that he was biologically predisposed to it, it still disturbed him to view people he cared about as belonging to him. He'd been here for close to thirty years now, posing as Wolf-Born as that old witch had advised him to do after she'd brought him here against his will. If anyone knew that he was half-Dragon, then he might draw the ire of Legolanthas himself, or even the attentions of the Unbound, Mazeek.
It was good then, that Wolf-Born and Dragons shared so many similar features, at least on the surface. The former had yellow eyes, rather than gold, but most didn't question him when he told them his eyes were yellow. Wolf-Borne were tall as well, towering over most men by a solid foot or more, not only that, they had stark white hair. It was a curious mutation, it only occurred in Ahkoolian humans, no other race. It was random chance if one was born that way, luckily for Hector, meaning it was easy to claim that he were one himself. He still stuck out, but in a more… native sense.
He hypothesised that Ahkoolian humans had been far more powerful in the past, that the Wolf-Born were simply old humanity gasping for breath once every hundred-thousand births. The answer, like most of Ahkoolis' history, was lost to time, buried beneath the chaos of the Godling Wars. He wondered if Akan-Dar would suffer a similar fate, that it would be crushed and forgotten by time, as if it never existed at all… unless he and his brother, whoever it was that had gotten here, could stop it.
If they could work together, it was possible that they could neutralize all the Pillar-Born before they could end Decuma. After that was done, they could finally be at ease, after centuries of torment by Jyn's hands. Their father's hands. His jaw clenched as he remembered the last thing he'd seen, just before the Elder Witch had brought him to this world. Jason, captured by their siblings, likely immediately forced back into slavery for the Eighth Arm. At the time, Hector had thought that, if he made a strategic withdrawal, he'd be able to ambush them and break Jason free. Jason was the strongest of all of them, working with Hector, they could have both subdued their siblings… but that wasn't what happened.
Begala, the Elder Witch, had practically kidnapped him from there before he could save Jason. Hector had wanted to kill her when she dragged him into a cold dark alley in what he now knew was Akan-Dar, telling him that it was 'time for a new Outworlder' and all sorts of things he'd taken for nonsense at the time. The hag had given him a warning of the utmost importance- claim to be Wolf-Born, and then she'd vanished.
It had been a chaotic first day here in Akan-Dar, hell, it had been a hectic first month, but he figured things out eventually. He made a group of good friends, gained favor with those in power, and in a decade had found himself running his very own Block. Doing so gave him access to the Grand Bookblock, and very valuable intel. It was there that he was able to infer what Jyn was, though there were only remnants of past history, it could only make sense that Jyn was the Banished Child, the First Dragon, cast out by the Pillar-Gods for one reason or another.
He'd still not found out why, not after all these years. All he could collect was scraps, remnants of a past that might not even be true. It frustrated him to no end-
"Lord Hector." Glen said, entering Hector's throne room.
He looked tired, heavy bags on his wrinkled face. Had Glen still possessed hair, Hector had no doubt that it would have been falling out by the fistful. Yet despite the apparent exhaustion on his face, Glen smiled.
"I found his number." Glen told him after a deep bow, "The mayor of the Fiendwall, a man named Gali, heard the number himself, given by Hoplite."
Hector stood, his heart beating loudly in his ears, "Tell me." He urged.
"His number, is Thirty-Seven."
Hector's eyes widened, jaw falling agape before he fell to his knees.
"Sire!?" Glen shouted, running toward him.
Guards wearing the black and red livery of Hector's house rushed in, wielding halberds as the armored soldiers scanned the throne room for intruders.
"I am fine!" Hector shouted, raising a hand, "Just shocked, please-" He gasped, "Please leave me."
"Very well my lord, send for me when you have further instructions." Glen told him with another bow, turning away.
He and the guards both left the chamber, sealing the doors behind them. Hector's hands shook, and he could not stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. God had answered his prayers!
"Lord, thank you for bringing Jason back." He praised, clasping his hands together before bowing his head, "I pray that he finds his way to me soon, and that I can free him from Jyn once again. Thank you Lord, thank you!" He exclaimed, openly weeping.
Despite his earlier reasonings, Hector considered throwing everything away to go find Jason. He may have been re-indoctrinated, so he'd be hostile on sight… but Hector didn't care. Jason was his brother, Hector save him once, and by God, he would do so again. He stood after finishing his prayer, wiping the tears from his eyes before he approached the door to his throne room. He would wear his old armor and run to the Faewood himself, no horse could run faster than Hector, and he was too heavy to fly there atop a griffon.
However, when he reached the door, he paused. He wasn't thinking rationally, leaving his domain would essentially be abdicating his throne and leaving his family open to attack. The people he'd befriended over the years were important to him, and while he loved Jason more, the thought of leaving his companions to manage the realm stopped Hector in his tracks. He bit his lip to keep it from quivering as he turned back to his throne, fists clenched as he sat back down in it.
"Glen!" Hector shouted, "Come back in here!"
The bald man appeared around the corner, "Yes my lord?"
"Old friend, I need you to send a messenger to Hoplite. Have the man you send tell Hoplite that there is crucial intel about another Hoplite here in Akan-Dar, ensure that the messenger understands not to mention me by name, understood?"
"Yes my lord, your will be done." Glen bowed, turning toward the doorway.
"Thank you, Glen." Hector said with a smile.
"Of course, sire." He paused, turning to smile back, "After that jam you got me out of? I'd do anything to pay back that debt."
"You've done so countless times already, friend." Hector laughed, "Your debt has been repaid long ago."
Glen shook his head, "I mean no offense my lord, but that is not for you to decide… just this once."
Hector shrugged, "If you insist, now go, do your good work."
"Of course, sire." Glen said, turning away again before marching out of the throneroom.
Jason was alive, and had somehow ended up on Ahkoolis. The only way he knew of to get to this world was to be brought by an Elder Witch. Yet there was now a Final-Kind Dragon-class floating by Rhetyna. He was willing to bet that there was a smaller human ship there somewhere, floating amongst the wreckage. An Elder Witch was supremely powerful, but not even they could have managed something like this. He continued to mull on this a while, until he heard something approaching from behind his throne– barely audible footsteps. He had to suppress a sigh as the intruder drew closer. A knife flashed toward his neck, held by a dark gloved hand. He caught the wrist before the knife could reach his throat, golden eyes widening before he applied pressure to the limb. A cry of agony rang out of the assassin, Hector standing from his throne to glare down at the intruder, the knife falling to the ground. Impressive that this one managed to get this far.
"You people are getting better at this." Hector said with admiration, "You were so close, but the attempt ends here. Tell me who sent you."
The cloaked man struggled against Hector's grip uselessly, trying to get away. If he wanted it, Hector could shatter the wrist with just a tad more pressure, but he took no joy in tormenting people. He heard men approaching from the hall, his own, surrounding the assassin with halberds pointed at him.
"Lord Hector, we can handle him from here!" One of his soldiers shouted, giving the killer a hard glare.
"After he tells me who sent him." Hector said flatly, eyes going wide as he glared down into the eyes of the assassin, "Now."
The man's eyes widened as Hector utilized his Psionics, projecting terror and a willingness to be obedient into the human.
"Lord-Ruler Miga!" He screamed, "Please my lord, let me go!"
"The Lord-Ruler!?" Hector asked, "You lie!"
"It is the truth! I swear it! I got half a sack of gold coins from his personal messenger, with a promise of the other half upon completion!" The assassin shouted, "Please my lord, I don't want to die, please forgive me! I'll turn away from this life, do honest work, I swear."
Hector stared into his eyes for a long while, before releasing his wrist. The guards immediately seized him, and Hector shouted "No! Let him go."
"My lord?" One of the guards asked, "He's a no good assassin, let us be done with him. We'll throw what's left of him into the Akan-Dark, he'll be one rotting carcass amongst thousands, no one will miss him-"
Hector shook his head, "No, I will not have a man killed who is willing to change himself for the better."
The killer blinked, "What?"
Hector smiled, "You said you want to go live an honest and good life? Then go, never return to what you were, be a better man, and redeem yourself, brother. No man is so far in the dark that they cannot return to the light."
His eyes widened in shock, for a moment, before he bowed his head, "Thank you my lord! I'll do as you say, I'll never forget your mercy!"
"Very good. Where was it you intended to meet the Lord-Ruler's messenger?" Hector asked.
"He said he would find me once word of your death spread through Akan-Dar." He answered, averting his eyes.
Escort him from here, do not harm a hair on his head, for I will hear of it." Hector commanded.
The guards hesitated a moment before releasing the assassin, who bowed deeply, before he left the throne room. A few guards lingered, scanning the chamber for any other would-be killers.
"That wasn't some knife in an alleyway, lord Hector." A guard told him, "None have ever gotten this far before. Lord-Ruler Miga very well might have hired that one."
"He was good," Hector began, "But he was not Ferow the Raven. I suspect that the Lord-Ruler didn't really have a hand in this, otherwise he would have hired the best instead."
"I heard rumor that Ferow has been crippled." Another guard chimed in, "The Raven's wings are broken, he wouldn't have been hired in his state."
"I see." Hector replied, "I suppose I'll have to keep a few of you in the throne room with me, more to keep you all at ease than myself."
"Thank you my lord," The guard gave a sigh of relief, "None of us want to see you harmed."
"If the Lord-Ruler is truly after my head, then things are going to become hectic. Stay on your guard men." Hector warned them all, "Turbulent times are ahead."