Stuyvesant- Ah, that was Cristina, not Sancha. She was the old Chancellor back under King David, right at the start.
Demetrios is certainly hellbent on chaos- but despite that, there may still be a little of the old Greek left in him.
Aliasing- Thanks!
loki100- Indeed. His plan, as will now be seen, is very flawed. His once intelligent mind is beginning to fracture, and he's really losing his grip on reality, as well as his ability to plot well enough. He may yet get away with it, however.
Autumn may have been Affonso's least favourite season, but Demetrios loved it. Everything died in Autumn- and with such pretty colours, too.
Demetrios grinned from his hiding place. So close...
Behind him lay the unconscious body of Sancha de Coimbra. The old woman shared something in common with Affonso- they both enjoyed going for walks in the same area.
And Sancha had was known to be a little senile in her old age. She had no ties with Demetrios- in fact, they had been known for their little rivalry back when she was Chancellor. So nobody would be able to pin anything on him.
And so, when she was found lying over Affonso's dead body with a knife in her hand...
Demetrios scoured the path with his eyes, listening closely, trying to detect any kind of movement. If his information was correct, Affonso was out walking now. He could return down this path at any time.
A tiny, almost imperceptible tear leaked from the corner of Demetrios' eye. A little thought entered his head: You shouldn't be doing this.
He shook it away. Vengeance was what mattered here. Affonso was just another life, another weak king in a long line of weak kings.
But still...
He could remember, vaguely, the person he once had been. That cold, imperious assassin, motivated by morality and loyalty. A cruel but good man.
He had caused war, yes. But he had not liked it, and he had not wanted it.
Affonso was not weak. He knew that, if he could look beyond the hate in his crazed mind. But he was too... chaotic.
He had already curbed the power of the nobility, and put it in the hands of the peasantry. He had to be stopped, if only to save Georgia.
But however he justified it to himself, there was still a sense of unease. He was going to kill another person. Another great ruler. Whatever happened, Georgia would suffer. And despite all the wrongs it had done to him, he still felt a little love for his old home.
Then, the leaves on the path rustled. A man with two red eyes came into view.
Demetrios dismissed the thoughts, as he drew his sword and stepped out in front of Affonso.
Time to end this damned nightmare once and for all.
Demetrios is certainly hellbent on chaos- but despite that, there may still be a little of the old Greek left in him.
Aliasing- Thanks!
loki100- Indeed. His plan, as will now be seen, is very flawed. His once intelligent mind is beginning to fracture, and he's really losing his grip on reality, as well as his ability to plot well enough. He may yet get away with it, however.
PART FIVE:
Affonso's Wrath.
Chapter Four.
Affonso's Wrath.
Chapter Four.
Autumn may have been Affonso's least favourite season, but Demetrios loved it. Everything died in Autumn- and with such pretty colours, too.
Demetrios grinned from his hiding place. So close...
Behind him lay the unconscious body of Sancha de Coimbra. The old woman shared something in common with Affonso- they both enjoyed going for walks in the same area.
And Sancha had was known to be a little senile in her old age. She had no ties with Demetrios- in fact, they had been known for their little rivalry back when she was Chancellor. So nobody would be able to pin anything on him.
And so, when she was found lying over Affonso's dead body with a knife in her hand...
Demetrios scoured the path with his eyes, listening closely, trying to detect any kind of movement. If his information was correct, Affonso was out walking now. He could return down this path at any time.
A tiny, almost imperceptible tear leaked from the corner of Demetrios' eye. A little thought entered his head: You shouldn't be doing this.
He shook it away. Vengeance was what mattered here. Affonso was just another life, another weak king in a long line of weak kings.
But still...
He could remember, vaguely, the person he once had been. That cold, imperious assassin, motivated by morality and loyalty. A cruel but good man.
He had caused war, yes. But he had not liked it, and he had not wanted it.
Affonso was not weak. He knew that, if he could look beyond the hate in his crazed mind. But he was too... chaotic.
He had already curbed the power of the nobility, and put it in the hands of the peasantry. He had to be stopped, if only to save Georgia.
But however he justified it to himself, there was still a sense of unease. He was going to kill another person. Another great ruler. Whatever happened, Georgia would suffer. And despite all the wrongs it had done to him, he still felt a little love for his old home.
Then, the leaves on the path rustled. A man with two red eyes came into view.
Demetrios dismissed the thoughts, as he drew his sword and stepped out in front of Affonso.
Time to end this damned nightmare once and for all.