Elijah sat upon the throne. His throne. Once he was victorious, it would all be his, this throne, this throne room, the people in it, and so much more.

“Master, a subject has been found.” Elijah turned and found a slave cowering in front of him, eyes faced down. “Your brother has made the order to begin the process. If successful, he will be landing at the HQ in the coming days.”

“I see, thank you.” Elijah said, before drawing a dagger from his waist, leaning over to the slave, and stabbing him in the back of the neck. As he fell, two more slaves rushed forward and caught his limp body. As they dragged him away, his blood covered them too, making one of them grimace.

“Get me Atarah.” He snapped at the slave standing beside his throne, as he wiped the blood on his hand onto his robes. A few moments later, his wife walked in. As she entered the room, he smiled, and greeted her.

“Hello Atarah, I have some good news.”

“What is that my dearest?” Atarah said with a thick italian accent.

“The instigator has been identified.”