NONE SO VILE

10: No Gods, No Kings

Albedo, Rennaire, 1802.

Leon used his knees to push Jacques's legs further apart, grunting as he thrust himself deeper into the rat. For his part, the naked assistant moaned, arching his back as Leon leaned down over his stomach, his worn fingers finding Jacques's throat. The rat was small and lithe beneath his muscled form, the smooth, short fur of his body squirming in the sheets, his hole like a vice around Leon's cock.

“Y-yes, that feels… good… sir…" Jacques gasped, as Leon hilted himself inside once more.

“I bet," Leon replied, thrusting harder, driving deeper. He needed the release. The weeks since he'd returned to Albedo had been filled with endless anxieties, and it all had to come out somehow or he'd scream. A growl buzzed in his chest, throat rolling through the sound as he shoved his face into the crook of the rat's neck. “Take it."

Glancing down, he saw Jacques's little pink dick bouncing against his stomach, untouched, thin strands of pre leaking from it. Leon ran a questing paw over Jacques's belly, spreading his fingers through the fine fur. His mind wandered with the fantasy of the moment. Jacques was soft, with warm innards that tightened up with his pleasure. What would it be like to run his paws over coarse scales? What would the insides of a cold-blooded submissive even feel like? Tight and hot like Jacques, or something entirely foreign?

Leon pulled his hips back, letting the rat's quivering hole tighten pleasurably around his head. It drew a small whine from Leon's lips, blissful pain arcing down the length of his riveted cock.

For a brief moment, he did not see Jacques in his mind's eye. As his cock slid back inside, both men chuffing deeply, Leon pictured a red and white hide. Light flashing on ivory, his fingers struggling for purchase and finding only slick scales. Teeth. Claws. Danger. His jaw squeaked as he grit it, anger tightening the muscles in his thighs as he started fucking Jacques harder, determined to breed the little bitch.

“Damn you, just take it," he whispered, almost trying to hurt the rat with the heavy jerks of his waist, pushing so hard the muscles in his back ached. “Mmrf, take it all."

“Yes s-sir," the rat gasped, the back of his legs wrapping around Leon's midsection.

There's only one man around with scales like that. The thought was like a Church bell ringing in his head. A horrifying, revolting bell. It reverberated through Leon's body, drawing blood to his cheeks and frustration to his paws. Get out of my head, Alabaster. Even the mere thought of that dragon drew rage up from Leon's guts, his fingers tightening around Jacques's neck, his own knees pushing his thighs out painfully wide.

“Ahh… oh…" Jacques murmured, reaching towards that bouncing pink cock.

“No," Leon snapped, grabbing hold of the rat's wrist and pinning his arm back against the bed. “When I say."

“Y-yes, whatever you say, sir!" Jacques mewled, wriggling beneath him on the bed, his asshole pulling in even tighter. Fire burned inside Leon. He was angry that even his private moments were not safe from Alabaster. The dragon had been snooping around in his life, never quite coming close enough to touch, but always there, circling in the distance. What did he want?

Stop thinking about that bastard!

Leon roared, bottoming his cock out inside Jacques, shoving deep. The rat was gasping in short, tight bursts, and Leon looked down to see his cock spraying forth rope after rope of cum onto his belly. It was thick and white, and the smell of it reached Leon's nose, tightening his own balls.

“I didn't say you could do that," he glowered, running his fingers through Jacques's seed. He pushed the wet digits up to the rat's mouth, shoving two fingers through his lips as the servant's lips and tongue wrapped around, suckling at his own cum. “You need to obey, I'm the one in control here!"

“Yes, sir," Jacques moaned, licking his lips as he stared up into Leon's eyes. The jaguar slammed into him again, hard enough the rat winced beneath his body. “Yuh-yes sir, I will ob-ey you, you are… ah… in charge… nrrf."

Leon was always the dominant when they coupled. It was his role, and he had no intention of ever giving up that power. Most would call it wrong for two men to do such an act, perverse even, but even that knowledge spurred Leon on more. In his mind he imagined everyone finding out his tastes, laughing, trying to put him down. It made him fuck into Jacques's hole even harder, stomach twisting unusually. Besides, men at war had done the same back in Kazmar's day.

If it was good enough for Kazmar the Great, then it is certainly good enough for me.

Leon heaved, picking up his pace, rhythmically fucking the rat hard on the bed, the headboard banging against the brick wall. His orgasm built in his thighs, reaching towards his hips, balls tight beneath his cock, spit and olive oil slick around his nethers. It felt good. It felt so good to let go and simply be in that moment. No politics, no complications.

No Alabaster.

“Just you and me, and you're mine, aren't you?" Leon asked, his paw returning to Jacques's throat. “Tell me."

The rat winced as he shook, nodding hurriedly. “Yes… ah… General, I belong to you!"

He was about to give himself over to the tension building in his hips, when a muted crack caught his attention. Leon slowed his hips, glancing back towards the door.

“Ah… um, General?" Jacques asked, still panting, still wrapped around Leon's cock.

Leon shushed him, pulling out and quickly tugging his breeches up.His desire was already forgotten, his heart thundering against his ribs. He padded over to the bedroom door, pressing his ear against it. Muffled voices bled through the walls.

“–this way–"

“–bitch is in here–"

“What is the meaning of this? My brother will hear of it!" Cosette's voice.

Leon reached across to his nightstand, taking his long cavalry sword in one paw, a loaded pistol in the other.

“What is it?" Jacques whispered, creeping up beside him, still naked.

The moment escalated as something ceramic was smashed to pieces with an echoic crack. Men grunted and the scuffling of a fight was heard, followed by a loud slap and a woman's scream.

“Get your paws off me, you bastard!" She cried, silenced by another slap and the sound of her body collapsing to the floor.

“Jacques," Leon said, turning to the rat. “Tell me – has Marshal Deuxmoise yet returned to the city?"

Confused, Jacques glanced between Leon and the door. “I… believe so, why do you ask?"

“Listen to me," Leon said, speaking quickly, one ear pricked up as he monitored the commotion in the main room. Cosette was wailing now, the noisy thuds only increasing in intensity as she grew desperate. The men – whoever they were – took no care, slamming open doors and laughing gruffly.

“LEON!" Her voice was shrouded by the walls, but the terror was unmistakable.

“General, your sister–"

“No!" Leon snapped. “Listen. You will hide. Wait until the house is empty, then take my letters. Marshal Deuxmoise, Marshal Laurent, and… and not Marshal Cartier. I can't be sure of him, go instead to Captain Germaine, he's second for the artillery corps, and a good man. Understood?" Outside, Cosette screamed again. “Jacques, do you understand?"

The rat nodded, shrinking back. “I… yes, General."

“Good." Leon inhaled. “Try to have it done before the King hangs me."

Before Jacques could ask any more questions, the jaguar threw himself out of his bedroom door. Still shirtless, he ran to the main room of his family home, where two men in Gardes du Corps Impérial uniforms were carrying his sister bodily out the door.

“Release her you currs!" Leon cried, lunging first for the wolf holding her legs. The Impérial looked up just in time for the end of Leon's long sabre to catch him in the eye, a wide slash cleaving through the side of his head as he fell to the ground with a huff.

The other man – a horse – had Cosette beneath the arms, but he dropped her as Leon turned, drawing his sword. Leon did not give him a chance to use it, firing his pistol into the man's chest. The Impérial fell back into the wall, clutching uselessly at the bleeding hole in his sternum. Outside the rain was pounding against the windows, water spraying in through the open door.

“Cosette, Cosette," Leon asked, dropping to one knee beside the whimpering jaguar. He turned his sister over, her face already bruised, a lip swelling. Shaking, she pointed towards the door.

“Ém…" She coughed. “They took Émeric…"

Hackles stood on Leon's neck. They'd come for his family. His nephew. An innocent babe, his only crime to be born cursed by the blood of the One God running in his veins.

So this is how Rennaire settles its affairs. With a sword to the necks of children.

“Stay here, try to hide if you can," he whispered, standing up. He checked the two men, both dead, or close to it. Whoever had told the King that Leon was hiding an Angel, they'd been smart to send the Gardes du Corps Impérial. Military men Leon might have been able to sway to his side, but the Impérials had loyalty only for the King.

Jaw set, Leon moved to the door, leaving his pistol behind. Outside in the rain he looked down at his courtyard. A carriage stood flanked by four Impérials, three foxes and a badger, each man armed with a bayoneted rifle. The tasselled end of a black cloak slipped inside the carriage, a door slamming shut behind it.

Four. Leon's heart sank. Four was too many. But then he caught a glimpse of Émeric's halo glowing softly inside the carriage, and suddenly the concern left him. That was his only family left, besides Cosette. He would not give him up to the King, damn loyalty, damn the law, he would not.

Leon vaulted over the ledge of his balcony, rain pattering against his bare torso as he landed on the carriage roof, each of the Impérials turning in unison towards him. The men on the left both fired as he tucked and rolled, choking black powder smoke bursting into the air around, rifleshot soaring uselessly into the sky. Twisting, Leon rolled over the edge of the carriage roof, dropping on top of the fox below him. The Impérial was crushed to the ground, and Leon's paw quickly found the knife at his waist, drawing it and plunging the tip into the base of his jaw.

“He's here!" Bellowed the badger, stabbing down with his bayonet. Leon shoved to the side, rolling underneath the carriage body and coming out the other side. He stood, both Impérials with their backs towards him, quickly slashing at the first and cutting him down. The other whirled and Leon tried to get his sabre back up, but the blade was meant for use on horseback – it was long, unwieldy, and the tip caught on the edge of the carriage wheel. The bayonet stabbed into his leg, the humming agony shooting through his muscle and up into his back, blood streaming down his leg, pink in the water beneath them.

“Give him back! “ Leon snarled, slashing up at the fox, the sword catching him in the side of the head and sticking there. The man howled as Leon dragged the sword back towards himself, slicing the guard's jaw open as his grip on the rifle went slack, body splashing limply into the filthy puddle.

“Bastard," Leon grunted, yanking the twisted bayonet from his leg, a whole new kind of agony rippling outwards, dizzying in its sudden intensity. He tried to put weight on his good leg, but as he stood something solid slammed into the back of his head.

The world spun and Leon's teeth smacked together painfully hard, blood filling his mouth from the tip of his tongue he'd bitten off.

Groaning, he tried to push himself up. The edges of his vision were fuzzy and white, the cobbles in his face double-layered as his head spun. A gloved paw grabbed his shoulder, flipping him onto his back and planting a boot firmly in the centre of his chest. Leon coughed, leaning back as the tip of a bayonet was jammed only a few inches from his face.

“Stop there, traitor," the badger Impérial growled, rain falling all around him.

“You're the… ones who…" Leon tried to say more, but his tongue was too big for his mouth, sticking inside. The world was spinning. “Who… you…"

To his right, the carriage door clicked, swinging open. Two cropped antlers appeared as Cardinal Loïc Taine stuck his head out, staring down with a wry smile at the wreck of Leon laid out flat in the wet.

“Bas…tard…" Leon chuffed, his leg throbbing so viciously he could barely focus on what was staring him in the face.

“I'm afraid it is quite over, Leon," said the Cardinal, raising up the bundle in his arms. Leon let out a groan as he saw Émeric swaddled in the Cardinal's elbow, his halo hovering a few inches off the baby jaguar's head. In Loïc's off paw was a short dagger, aimed down towards the baby.

“Just… a babe…" Leon grunted.

“Pardon?" Asked the Cardinal, cocking his head as if trying to listen. “You have a decision to make now, General. We can go to the palace together and attend your trial. Or you can die for nothing out here in the rain, along with your nephew." He lowered the tip of his dagger closer towards the bundle, emphasising his point.

“N-no…" Leon growled. He tried to sit up, but the boot and bayonet jerked to remind him of his place. “You wouldn't."

“The blood of the One God is as eternal as the cruelty of our Lord Father," the Cardinal said. “His eyes linger on your lineage, Leon, why else would he curse you with this?" He jiggled Émeric, the jaguar crying out in protest of the chill air. “Penance for your disloyal thoughts, no doubt. If the boy dies, another shall take his place. I am only a conduit of the One's will, I have no preference."

“Damn you!" Leon again made to grab for him. The Impérial raised his rifle, swinging it around and ramming the butt into Leon's face. Something cracked and his head snapped back, bouncing off the stones. He blinked groggily, a deep pounding going off in his skull like a drum. Nausea turned his guts over, a sinking dryness pulling at his tongue.

Despair clung to him. He stared helplessly up at the Cardinal, at his nephew, and then at the Impérial looming over him. There was no way out. No winning. Even if he could somehow best the badger, kill the Cardinal, and save Émeric, what then? The city gates were all closed. He'd have murdered six of the King's royal bodyguards, not to mention the Church's primary representative to Rennaire.

“It is over," the Cardinal repeated. The deer leaned back inside the carriage interior, turning his attention to the badger. “Corporal. Please restrain the General and get him up. He'll be coming along with us to the palace."

“With pleasure, Father."

The world was a blur as Leon was hauled to his knees, no heed paid to the wounds in his head and leg. It was all he could manage to keep his eyes open. He was given a tight set of black iron manacles to lock around his wrist, and then roughly shoved up inside the carriage, the Impérial clambering in after him.

Bile forced its way up his throat as the carriage lurched forward, pulling into the street. Leon swallowed the burning taste, spitting at his feet. Stay awake. Stay focused. You've lost blood, taken a head wound. Lesser men would be dead. But not you. You're still here, and if you're here, you can do something.

Moving gently, Leon sat upright, his throbbing head pushed back against the seat, staring vacantly towards the Cardinal.

“You're just… like the rest of them," Leon whispered.

“I thought you might say something like that," Loïc replied. In his arms, Émeric was starting to cry, and he tried to shush the babe. “Don't fret now, Leon. Cooperate, and I shall see to it that your sister receives no reprimand for her place in this breach. You forced her into hiding her child, it was all part of your plan to destabilise this nation. As for this little one, he shall go to a monastery in Koringrad, to be raised in the way of his brethren far away from this place. The Church is reluctant to ever send our Angels back to their country of origin, creates unfortunate opportunities for conflict, you understand. Perhaps this boy will remain in Koringrad, or perhaps go west, I've heard the coasts of Felise are lovely. Regardless, he will have a new name, and no memory of this life. A mercy, really."

Leon said nothing, only stared.

“The One God of men is a cruel master," Loïc continued. “A creator who despises his creation. It is the best most of us can hope for that his gaze never turns upon us. I take no pleasure in this unpleasantness, but you understand… this madness…" the deer waved his free paw out the window, indicating the riots that still raged across the city. “It must end."

“How fortunate you can set your Angel on them," Leon muttered.

Loïc winced. “What happened at La Tour de Sel was… unfortunate. But our King commanded it, and while I represent the Church it is not my place to question a Holy Monarch. That is the kind of behaviour which brought the One God's ire down on your house."

“Fuck your One God," Leon spat. “And fuck you too."

Cardinal Loïc only sighed, staring out the window. Leon closed his eyes a moment, poking his injured tongue into his teeth in an effort to force himself awake. When he opened his eyes the Cardinal had put Émeric aside and was leaning forward, a rag in his fingers. Leon watched as the deer wrapped the rag around his thigh, just above the stab wound. The bayonet had punctured a meaty chunk of flesh, and while it hurt plenty, Leon recognised it shouldn't be fatal. The Cardinal pulled the tourniquet tight, knotting it off to keep it in place.

“King won't like it if I bleed out before he gets his pound of flesh, huh?" He asked. The waves of pain were blending together, numbing his senses as they crashed against him, merging into one vacuous pulse.

“Something like that," Loïc replied, rocking Émeric, the baby still crying.

Leon's heart ached worse than his wounds. The dream was dying. His dream, of a peaceful Rennaire ruled for the good of the people. A free nation, the greatest on the continent. His death would be the nail in the coffin. The riots would be crushed, the people subjugated worse than ever before. It was all he could do to hope Jacques got his letters out to the Marshals. Deuxmoise and Laurent at least had been loyal to him, they should prepare for what was coming. A purge of the military, no doubt. A gutting to cut away all the rotten flesh Leon's touch had infected.

“Get him out." Leon shook himself back to reality, the door to the carriage peeling away as rough paws seized him, dragging him to the ground. Someone smacked him across the face, hauling him forward into the palace.

“Should we clean him up?"

“He's filth, let him look the part."

Leon could not see the faces, but he recognised the uniforms. More Impérials.

“King wants him now. Time to put this all to bed."

They laughed. “Dead man walking, if you might call it that."

Alabaster stepped into the throne room, claws held behind his back. It was unusual to see the throne room nearly empty, rain buffeting the large stained windows at the ends. He had grown so comfortable with the constant din of chattering noble hopefuls, that their absence suddenly struck him keenly.

“I never should have doubted you," said the King, slouching forward in his seat. Several members of the Gardes du Corps Impérial stood around the borders of the room, rifles slung over their shoulders, their eyes aimed dutifully ahead. “Oh Alabaster, this city is truly under God's eye now."

“For now, your majesty," Alabaster replied. “For now."

A door at the end of the hall swung open, and Alabaster watched calmly as Leon Valoisier was dragged in by two Impérials. They carried him under the arms, feet dragging over the tiles. His paws were sealed together with dark clinking manacles, and his face had taken a beating. He was shirtless too, blood and rain soaking the fur across his muscles.

“Did they strip him as well?" The King asked, shaking his head.

“What is this?" Minister Joachim entered the room, stepping up to the dais that held Alabaster and the throne. “Your Majesty… Alabaster…" The crane turned to regard Leon, who had just been tossed onto his paws and knees at the bottom of the dais steps.

“I alerted the King to General Valoisier's blatant disregard of the law," Alabaster said. “His nephew is an Angel, and so here he's been brought."

“What have you done, damn you?" Joachim snapped, glaring. He shook his head and stepped past Alabaster, rounding on the King. “Your Majesty, if you will, I have a plan on how we can utilise this criminal to–"

“Enough, Joachim!" The King said, raising a chubby paw to silence him. “Alabaster has it all under control, I'm afraid."

“Joachim…" The grunted moan came from below them, Leon raising his head slowly as he shifted to his knees.

“No, General, I am afraid pleading will do no good," said King Phillipe, coughing to clear his throat. “Make your peace. This is the end."

“I…" Leon shook his head, coughing out a mouthful of blood. “No. It isn't. You don't have the support… of the people. Of the military. All you have is… your fucking… bodyguards." He spat. Alabaster tutted.

“I will have the support of them all, soon enough. We have all heard quite enough from you, Monsieur Valoisier, it is now my turn to speak and yours to listen. Since your return you have embroiled my city in chaos. Your very presence angers the populace, drives them to rail against their position in life. What turmoil! I won't have it a moment longer, I shan't!"

“Then feed them!" Leon cried, his voice hoarse. “They starve! They are stolen from! They have no justice, and no hope!"

“NO!" Roared the King, smacking his arms down on the side of his throne. “What they have is ideas! Ideas of grandeur, ideas that they know best! A well poisoned by Kiberland and yourself, no doubt, drummed up by these damnable flyers, and that bloody fool they call the Speaker! A coward, who hides even his own name!"

“Abdicate," Leon said, straightening his back.

“How dare you." The King snorted. “You are a whelp. Scum in no place to demand. Lower gentry who thinks that just because he won a battle he's the right to come in here and dictate how my God-given right to rule is executed?! ONLY I know best, you hear me? ONLY ME!"

Alabaster licked his lips, staring down at the beaten jaguar. He'd thought it would feel better seeing him on his knees, seeing the proud General finally reduced down to the size of lesser men. Time and again Alabaster had imagined the sweet moment when Leon realised that the system could not be broken, that he could not win. Yet… part of him felt disappointed. Ashamed there wasn't more. He even hoped the King would not mention his own part in it all, just wished it would be over already.

I want to forget the name Leon Valoisier.

“I will tell you what happens now," King Phillipe said. “We will bathe you, and dress you up. You will formally surrender to the Crown, all will hear of your seditious confession. All will know how you conspired to help Kiberland destabilise my rule, how you tried to undermine the Church itself by keeping an Angel for yourself."

Leon laughed, shaking his head.

“You will," the King added, his voice going very soft. “Or that child will suffer. His mother will suffer, not to mention that rat always following you around. Every friend your piss-blood family ever had will be exiled. And then finally, after months of agony, you will suffer, for one last time."

“I am not certain this is most wise," Joachim hissed to the King. “Perhaps the General would consider a constitution in exchange–"

“No constitution!" Leon declared loudly, voice echoing in the hall. He unfolded his knees from beneath himself, pushing woozily to his feet. “No! These people have spoken, Phillipe, and I have heard them! No Gods, no Kings, only man!" He banged his shackles against his chest. “If you abdicate now and surrender to me, I will ensure you are given a fair trial before equal men, and a sentence befitting that of a monarch!"

“Shit on you and your offers, boy!" The King exploded, shoving to his feet, his knees popping loudly from the sudden movement. “You have no place to bargain with me! I AM RENNAIRE! I OWN THIS LAND, AND EVERY MAN, WOMAN, AND CHILD WITHIN IT!"

Outside, something exploded. The rain continued, but Alabaster heard a wave of cries, more puffs, like rifles… only deeper.

“What is that?" Joachim asked.

Leon sniffed, shaking his head. “I told you. Rulers are useless, without someone willing to be ruled. You do not have the support of the army, or the people, Phillipe." He stared up at the King, defiant. “But I do. I am of the people!"

Around the edges of the room, even the Gardes du Corps Impérial were shifting nervously. One man came running out from a side hall, out of breath.

“Your Majesty!" He said, panting. “Cannon have shot through the palace gates, the commoners are coming! What do we do?"

“We…" The King looked around, Joachim was gone. “We… I… er…"

“Barricade the palace doors!" Alabaster said, raising a claw. Someone went to grab hold of Leon and he shook them off, smashing his manacles into their face and dashing for the door. The Impérials were caught by surprise, and by the time they'd lowered and fired their rifles he was gone.

“I will tell them to stop," the King mumbled, his words trailing off. “I will order them. I am their King. They have to obey, I have divine right to rule."

“Your Majesty," Alabaster said, whirling on him. “Now is no time for formality. We must go, if the people get to you they will murder you." And me.

“Regicide," Phillipe whispered. “Such a terrible thing."

“Where is the Queen? Prince Gabriel and Prince Jules?"

“I sent them away, I didn't want… they are not here, Alabaster."

“We need to go," Alabaster said, practically pushing the King towards the stairs. “Leon does not control the entire military, we only need to hold out before the city guards can come to restore order. Go, go!"

His heart was racing. All he could imagine was the people getting inside, ripping the King apart and then turning on him. There'd be no mercy for the King's heretic lamplighter. A foreigner. A torturer. A monster.

This is the end for you. No. It would not be. It will. And you deserve it.

How? How had the plan fallen apart so completely? Musket and rifle shot exploded deeper in the palace halls, the front gates to the throne room buckling as people threw themselves against the heavy wood.

How can I get out? Alabaster wondered, leading the King up the stairs towards his room. How can this be real?

“PHILIPE!" The voice came echoing up the stairs. Leon. It had all come together so nicely. Alabaster's revenge, catching out Joachim, stealing his plan and humiliating Leon and then… just as quickly as it started, it was over.

“Alabaster, you can't let him have me!" The King whined, as they stumbled through the doors to his quarters. “This country needs me! I am the King!"

“I know, Your Majesty," he said, turning to shut the door. Just as he was about to close it, a weight slammed against the other side. Alabaster grunted, but the surprise caught him and he stumbled, Leon's spotted arm shooting through the gap.

Alabaster drew his dagger, slashing forwards, but Leon slipped through, the doors shutting behind him. The three of them stood there in a triangle, glancing between one another.

“It is time for this to end," Leon hissed, shifting his weight. He'd broken his manacles apart, freeing each arm, a captured short-sword held loosely in his right paw. Alabaster saw he was favouring one leg, but his eyes were alive with the thrill of battle. This isn't some low-life you've taken by surprise. He's a soldier.

“General, please, stop this insanity!" The King pleaded, he sounded on the brink of sobs. “I can give you whatever you want! The military, a dukedom, even your Angelic nephew! I can make you the richest man on the continent! Please, just listen to me, I beg!"

“It's a good deal, Leon," Alabaster said, dagger point aimed towards the shirtless jaguar. “This fever will burn out soon, you know it as well as I. When the cavalry comes, they–"

“The cavalry belongs to me," Leon said, cutting him off.

“What do you want, everyone wants something!" The King whined.

“I want your crown," Leon replied, grinning. He lunged for the King, but Alabaster was there, parrying the sword blow away. “Why defend him!" Leon snarled, stumbling as he put weight onto his injured leg.

Alabaster did not have an answer. He didn't know what else to do anymore. If the King died, his life was over, morality didn't come into it. Maybe in another life, he could have been on the side of glorious revolution, but the time to make that choice was long gone, and now all he had was this snivelling fat badger.

“I am the best swordsman in this country," Leon said firmly, hefting his short sword. “Lay down your dagger, Alabaster, and I won't hurt you."

“Liar."

Leon came for him. He raised his sword up, chopping down in a swift two-pawed blow. Alabaster braced the blade of his kriss in both claws, catching the steel and feeling it glance to the side, shaving a sliver of his palm off in the process. He cried out, weight thrown. Leon used the leverage to push their arms aside, smashing his elbow into Alabaster's throat. The dragon seized as his neck popped, air suddenly cut off. He had the presence of mind to just narrowly catch Leon's sword-arm with his blade, the shock of pain causing the jaguar to drop the sword clattering to the ground.

Not missing a beat, Leon hurled his entire weight forward. He crashed into Alabaster and they both went down, a mess of scratching claws, elbows and knees, teeth. Alabaster tried to catch his eye, grab hold of his mind, but the jaguar was too quick. His fingers reached for the other and found nothing, his mind was racing too fast, his body too interrupted to perceive the other realm.

“No, no!" He cried. He was half there on the King's floor, and half back in the slave pits. An older boy was on top of him. Beating him, nearly to death. The owners were cheering.

Not like this. Tears burned his eyes.

“You don't even believe in his rule!" Leon growled, his paws finding Alabaster's throat. “You're just another parasite! To think, I saved you in that prison!"

“You're… just like… them…" Alabaster squeaked, trying in vain to wrench Leon's strong arms off his aching throat. Fingers pushed into his windpipe, crushing, strangling.

“I am nothing like them!" Leon cried.

“All you… see… is another… slave…" Alabaster felt something give in his eye, his chest strained, ready to burst. A freezing sting of needles were pressing at the base of his claws.

“Just die!" Leon roared.

Alabaster blinked, half-there, half in the past. He felt his body let go, numbness sweep through him. A faint… relief.

A life of fear. Of pain. Finally over.

A shadow appeared over Leon then, and the King roared as he slammed a large candelabra down on the jaguar's back. The jaguar was thrown aside, the pressure around Alabaster's windpipe vanishing. Leon turned and the King swung again, the end of his metal candlesticks colliding with Leon's weak leg.

Alabaster rolled, scrambling away on his belly, panting desperately, heaving, tears running from his eyes. He scratched at his throat, trying to force new fresh air into his lungs.

“You ungrateful bastard!" The King cried behind him. Alabaster ignored it. Something had been knocked loose within him. Ancient memories, a formative fear he'd felt as a child. A part of himself forever closed off – the part that felt anything for other people.

“Come into my palace talking of justice!" The King stabbed down at Leon's wound once again, and the jaguar cried out, clutching his leg. “The only peace I'll feel is when your legs stop kicking, gentry swine! Yes, the Crown takes from the peasants! I take as the farmer takes calves from their mother! They belong to me, EVERYTHING in this bloody country belongs to me!"

Alabaster uncurled himself from his ball, lifting his shuddering form to the window. Inside he felt very cold, and very small. His limbs felt like clothes, hanging loose off his bones, not part of him. Raindrops streamed down the glass like tears. Outside the Rennairan people raged. They swarmed the palace grounds, dragging out any nobleman they could find and bludgeoning them right then and there. Soldiers fought alongside them, and as Alabaster watched the last few living members of the Gardes du Corps Impérial were clubbed to death.

Alabaster turned back to Leon and the King. The jaguar was shoved up against the wall, panting slowly, one paw raised, the fight all but gone from him. The King was out of breath, huffing like a whelping bitch. The candelabra fell from his sausage fingers, clanging loudly on the tiles.

“What do you know of ruling men?" The King spat onto Leon, shaking his head. The badger looked tired, run down. He looked afraid.

He isn't going to live through this. Alabaster realised, glancing back outside. There was no longer any outcome where King Phillipe lived. And he deserves it too.

The people – the ones outside. They were being made into slaves. Every year they lost more rights. Every year they had to scrimp harder, beg for more and get less back. It was a never ending downward spiral, and if it wasn't stopped then the entire country would soon starve and collapse.

It was the most painful thing Alabaster realised, and the bliss of it brought more tears to his eyes.

Leon was right.

“You think it's easy?" The King said, talking more to himself than Leon now.

Alabaster pushed off the window, clambering to his feet, staggering towards the two men. The King ignored him, back towards his lamplighter, staring down the beaten jaguar.

“It's not. I have nothing left to say to you," King Phillipe said, between breaths. Alabaster bent over, his fingers deftly picking up the kriss dagger he'd dropped earlier. “Leon Valoisier, giving you my words, my hatred… even that is more than a treasoner like you deserves."

Alabaster inhaled, fingers tightening around the slick grip of his knife. “Your Majesty, a word?"

“Huh?" The King spun around and Alabaster buried the dagger in his gut, shoving deep enough the King's eyes bulged and he doubled over, falling to his knees.

“You… no… not… not you…"

Alabaster shook his head, falling to the ground even as Leon stood. The jaguar was unrecognisable, his body transformed into one great wound, but still he stood. The King tried to crawl as he collected his sword, following the trail of blood.

“I… I…" King Phillipe repeated, numbly struggling to speak. “I will sign… any constitution…"

“No quarter," Leon said, limping around to Phillipe's front. The King stopped, sagging back on his knees, the white patterns of his badger's coat stained pink with his own blood. “I tried to save this country peacefully. I wanted you to keep your Crown. Instead, you'll lose your head." He laid the tip of the sword onto the King's shoulder. “I sentence you, for crimes against this nation and every free man within it."

“You can't," Phillipe mewled. “Regicide is… a mortal sin. The Church–"

“There's no room for that Church in my new Rennaire." Leon sniffed, raising the sword. Alabaster looked up as the doors to the King's quarters suddenly burst open, a mob of commoners rushing forward and stopped, led by the jackal Marshal Deuxmoise.

“General!" Deuxmoise exclaimed. “The palace is ours!"

Leon nodded slowly. “Thank you." The sword quivered in the air, his battered muscles straining. Alabaster sucked in a breath, unable to believe what he was witnessing.

“I told you I am of the people," Leon said to Phillipe, his voice soft like a poet. “I am the greatest soldier this country has. I am what it needs. I am the revolution."

“Leon, wait–" The King raised his paws, but too late. Leon hacked down with both arms, screaming wordlessly as his blade bit into the badger's neck. Blood sprayed into the air as the steel chewed through flesh, shooting out the other side and glancing off the tiles.

The King's head toppled back, sinews stretching, until it finally fell to the ground with a weighted thud.

Then Leon collapsed.