Rain pattered against a black umbrella. Beneath it, Franco IV hurried along in a sorry state, his fine clothes soaked and clinging uncomfortably to his body.
Worse than any of that, a mob of peasants had driven him from his palace, and he had lost the Crown worn by generations of the Franco Family.
"Damn those peasants! Those dirt-grubbing wretches who scrounge for food! They dared storm my palace and say they didn't want a king... Damn it! How can a world have no king? Who would collect their taxes? Who would exercise the right of the first night?"
"When I find reinforcements, I'll have every last one of those peasants seized and hanged from the city walls."
Franco IV spat the words.
He had never cared about Strathlade Kingdom's wars with other kingdoms. It lay more than half a continent away, with countless duchies and kingdoms between them. The sheer size of the continent, along with the gods who ruled from on high, made a unified empire on the Main Plane impossible.
But he had never imagined Strathlade Kingdom would spread its ideas of freedom and democracy across the world. Nor had he imagined his own peasants would fall for them, put down their hoes, and take up arms to overthrow him. Least of all had he imagined that the guards he paid with gleaming Gold Coins would lose to those peasants, forcing him to flee his palace in a panic.
Once I bring back reinforcements, I'll kill every rebel. Then I'll have an Undead mage imprison their souls in their dead bodies and torment them day after day. I'll listen to them scream.
"Your Majesty, we've left the Dead Magic Zone."
The Guard's voice pulled Franco IV from his fantasy.
"Open the teleportation scroll. Now."
Franco IV spoke