Septimity and The Blood Brotherhood: The Third Hilarious Glothic Tale (The Glothic Tales Book 3) (2 page)

‘What? He’s dead?’

‘Extremely dead.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘How much deader do you want him to be?’

‘Sorry. Just a bit excited. So how did it happen?’

‘The idiot jumped off the roof of the palace.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘He was having a race to the palace garden with his son. He was heard screaming, ‘I win, I win, I win,’ all the way down to the red brick path beside the royal rose bed.’

‘And what of the fool son?’

‘Apparently he’s still in his room sulking about losing.’

‘His father?’

‘No, the race.’

‘This ugly Erdean gene has really reached the abyss of its existence. This must make it about ten dead Supreme Potentates now in the last twenty years.’

‘Well, we knew that Gregorian interbreeding would one day lead to their self destruction, but they’re dying younger and younger of genetic illnesses. And now we can add dying of stupidity as well.’

‘Yes Septenarii, it has taken a very long time, but it seems they are now a very weak breed.’

‘Weak is an understatement I think Septimity. It would seem that they’ve gone completely and utterly mad. Totally insane. They’re incapable of any rational thought. Other than winning silly races to the palace rose garden.’

‘It’s time to put a stop to this disgrace and the shame it brings on Gloth. We must rid Gloth of these imbeciles.’
‘So, has the time finally arrived when we can begin to believe in the reality of Ichor?’

‘Yes. The Blood Brotherhood’s dream of Ichor is closer now. The self-destruction of the Gregorians makes them extremely weak and vulnerable. There may be an opportunity for us with a young child heir, who will carry next to no authority.’

‘Then it is time.’

‘Patience Septenarii. We’ve had many false hopes over the years. But the Gregorians do seem to be at their very weakest at the moment.’

‘Then, there’s never been a better time Septimity.’

‘Yes, this is true. I’ve just been reading the passages pertaining to Ichor in the Blood Brotherhood Charter. It says we must act when the Blood Brotherhood is certain of delivering a fatal blow.’

‘But we can never be certain Septimity. We could wait an eternity for certainty.’

‘True.’

‘Surely we can begin with the preliminary plans and at least be prepared to strike if the situation on Gloth is advantageous to us.’

‘Perhaps Septenarii. But only with the preliminary stages.’

‘So can I send the order Septimity?’

September didn’t answer immediately as he tried to come to his decision. Having waited for so long he was very tempted to say yes. According to the Blood Brotherhood Charter, the order to enact Ichor could only be given when at least two founding members of the Blood Brotherhood were in agreement. Septimity and his six brothers were all founding members, so any two of them could agree to order the commencement of Ichor. Septimity decided that two votes were insufficient for such a bold decision.

‘I will only agree if all of our brothers are of the same mind Septenarii. Send a message to them all and if we are all in agreement, we shall give the order.’

‘Very well Septimity. I’ll send the message to our brothers immediately and ask for their votes.’

‘Alright Septenarii. Let me know as soon as you have all of their replies.’

Septimity knew all of his brothers would agree, then the order would be sent out to the entire Blood Brotherhood to begin the long awaited cleansing of Gloth and the hopeful return of pure Glothic rule, free from the stain of Erdean evil. He just didn’t know at all how it would all happen.

As Septimity sat pondering his lack of knowledge, events on Gloth were moving at a pace.

*****

‘Gentlemen, we must remain calm at this time and ready ourselves for the transition,’ Kaybob Krizzle, The Puissant of Karhoonaa and President of the Grand Council said firmly as he addressed the Grand Council meeting called to plan the events following the death of the Supreme Potentate, November the Ninety-Seventh.

‘I understand Mr. President, however we all know of the reputation of the late Supreme Potentate’s eldest son,’ Grand Councillor Sckwatt said and was greeted with knowing nods.

‘Not to put too finer point on it, he is a child who is quite probably certifiably insane,’ Grand Councillor Phlipplid added.

‘I understand some of the rumours about the Supreme Potentate’s heir have been disturbing, but we all know of the process that must now be followed,’ Krizzle warned.

‘Mr. President, I would like to state for the record that we as the Grand Council of the Glothic Empire have known for a very long time that a problem exists. Since the rule of February the Fifth, and his order that created a singular Gregorian Royal Family, the inter-bred genetic decline has been slowly becoming more and more evident,’ Sckwatt said and more knowing nods came.

‘I agree. They really are becoming an embarrassment. At the last Grand Council meeting November’s behaviour was a disgrace,’ another councillor added.

‘Indeed sir. Dancing around the Royal Dodecahedron and saying evil spirits lived inside and kicking it as he lay on the floor throwing a tantrum was extremely rude to say the least. As was his abysmal comportment with the Lady Ambassador from Myscopinia. Lifting her robe and announcing that he was looking for her third leg shocked the assembly,’ yet another added.

‘Yes gentlemen,’ Sckwatt agreed. ‘His behaviour in front of the five thousand members of the Grand Assembly was shameful. When he delivered his directive and asked the Grand Council to approve the destruction of Sun System Seven because he believed it was inhabited by nasty nose eating aliens, I hung my head in shame.’

‘We have managed now for generations,’ Krizzle replied. ‘The role of the Supreme Potentate has become more ceremonial and all the important decisions are now taken by the Grand Assembly and the Grand Council. We have our responsibility to perform. To make the arrangements for the investiture of the new Supreme Potentate, the young April the First.’

‘Who in their right mind would name their son April?’ Sckwatt asked the councillor beside him, but loud enough for all to hear.

‘Gentlemen please,’ Krizzle asked. ‘Can we just move on to the purpose of our meeting? There is nothing to be gained from this discussion. The investiture must take place within thirty days, so we have a lot to do. Councillor Xphore, could you please outline the preparations that are underway.’

With that, the meeting returned to making its plans for the investiture of April the First.

*****

On an asteroid deep in Sun System Eight, other plans were being prepared for April’s investiture.

‘Brothers Fish-Roe. By our unanimous agreement, the time has come. Alert your local members to ready themselves for Ichor,’ Septenarii Fish-Roe wrote in his message to his six brothers after receiving Septimity’s agreement to proceed with Ichor. ‘Every member of the Blood Brotherhood had dreamt for almost ever of the coming of Ichor. The day the pure and untainted blood of Gloth will once again flow through the veins of a true Supreme Potentate of Gloth. Set the plans for the day of Ichor into motion with your clans, and ready yourselves brothers for my confirmation of the exact date.’

Septenarii sent his order and waited for confirmation of receipt. Within minutes, all six arrived. Operation Ichor had started.

It was during his first traumatic weeks on Terranova Two that September dreamed of Ichor and of its mythical status as the fluid that flows like blood through the veins of the gods. At first nightmarish in nature as he dreamed of the contaminated blood of Erde that now ruled in his place, he then interpreted his dream correctly as meaning that he must work towards returning Ichor, the purest of blood, to Glothic rule. Ichor therefore became the dream for September and the Blood Brotherhood.

Septimity eagerly received the message from his brother Septenarii that he had ordered, and immediately began planning his part in the Ichor plan. He needed to contact his friends on Lacertilian. Famed for both their flying skills and dashing style, Lacertilian pilots would be crucial to Septimity’s major part in the plan – to somehow commandeer a Glothic Cosmic Cruiser.

‘I don’t care, just get rid of them!’

‘With due respect young sir, there are no Hoog destroyers parked under you bed.’
‘Yes there are. Two!’ April insisted.

‘Very well sir,’ a despondent Kcrikklli Kcaapaak replied as he shepherded young April from his bedroom to a guest room while promising to be very thorough next time and check carefully for Hoogs or any other nasty space craft hiding under April’s bed. Having been the personal man in waiting to the previous six Supreme Potentates, Kcaapaak understood his job very well. He also well accepted that they were definitely getting madder with each passing Potentate.

‘And check for Noorlac interceptors too,’ April snapped.

‘Yes sir, of course.’

‘And I want Kiddlepops for breakfast.’

‘I will inform Chef.’

‘With warm milk.’

‘Very well. Sleep well Sir,’ Kcaapaak said as he closed the door, shook his head, and started for his quarters.

‘Kcaapaak!’ April screeched, and Kcaapaak turned slowly with an audible huff and opened the door.

‘Yes sir?’

‘When is my daddy coming back from the rose garden?’

‘I’m not sure sir. Perhaps you should discuss this with your mother in the morning.’

‘Alright. But you can’t have any of my Kiddlepops!’

‘No. I understand. Goodnight sir,’ Kcaapaak said and closed the door again wondering how a ten year old boy with the mentality of a three-year old was ever going to become the Supreme Potentate of Gloth. But then again, he had thought that about the last five, who all had serious problems up in the attic. This one though was promising to be the maddest by far.

Perhaps it was the way April looked at people that gave the impression he was a little odd. With his right green eye set in a rigid stare and his hazel left eye permanently rotating in a circular motion, it was almost impossible to tell what he was looking at. The reluctance of his eyes to blink also bothered some people. His nose was normal however; for a Gregorian that is. Long, prominent and seemingly a tad too wide for the space available between his eyes. Unlike Gregorians however, April was short by any standard. Not a midget, but somewhere between extremely short and a dwarf would be accurate enough. His hair was blond, a little to long and curly to be called masculine, but probably what bothered people most was a rather disturbing lump on his left shoulder. Even with the skill of the palace tailors this lump couldn’t be completely hidden. While some believed it to be the stump of a second head removed at birth, others thought it may have been the remnants of a third arm. Most believed the first assumption. The lump however did draw attention away from the fact that April had five fingers and one thumb on his left hand, and two thumbs and six fingers on his right. However, very few people were aware of his toe count.

Luckily, with an annoying habit of poking out his tongue when asked even questions as simple as ‘How are you?’ and his total refusal to shake hands with anyone at all, very few people ever had the chance to conduct a digit census. One quality in his favour though was that he had a rather deep, rich, pleasant sounding voice for a child, which although he rarely used in company, still seemed to surprise people if they were lucky enough to hear him speak – instead of simply scream.

*****

Kcrikklli Kcaapaak didn’t rush to join April and his mother January for breakfast. As he dressed he wondered why he continued in his job, with his role now descending to that of a well-dressed child minder of raving lunatics instead of the trusted employee of the most powerful man in the entire Twelve Sun Systems. However he turned his mind instead to the few years of service he had left before being eligible for his generous palace retirement benefit. Checking himself one last time in the mirror before leaving for work, he noticed the lines on his face were beginning to tick down the months and years. ‘Oh well, at least this one is toilet trained,’ he thought as he left.

‘Good morning m’am.’

‘Good morning Kcrikklli.’

‘Good morning April sir.’

‘The milk’s too hot!’

‘Yes, well just wait a moment,’ January said just before April launched the bowl of Kiddlepops from the table with a fling of his right hand.

‘Chef is an imbecile!’

‘Yes, very well sir. I’ll have him prepare a new bowl for you.’

‘That wasn’t very nice April,’ January scolded her son, but April decided poking his tongue back at her was the most appropriate response. Kcaapaak continued making his way towards the kitchen, passing a kitchen hand on his way out to clean up April’s jettisoned bowl.

‘Another bowl?’

‘Yes Chef, as usual.’

‘Ready and waiting.’

‘How many mornings has this been now chef?’

‘I think he’s only missed one day in the last month,’ Chef replied with a big grin.

‘Oh well, off I go then,’ Kcaapaak said as he picked up the tray with the new serving. ‘I can only hope he chokes to death on it.’

‘Maybe a dash of something lethal in his cereals?’

‘Pleasant thought Chef, but murdering the Potentate in waiting is probably classed as a criminal offence.’

‘Only by some.’

‘Yes Chef, probably only by a very few in fact,’ he muttered as he walked off slowly to the dining room. When he arrived, April was in the middle of one of his floor based tantrums while January seemed to have decided that the best a mother could do in the circumstances was to continue with her breakfast so her coffee didn’t get cold.

‘Your fresh serve sir,’ he said as he laid it on the table and also ignored April’s tantrum and now approaching light blue face due to holding his breath for just a little too long.

‘Will that be all m’am?’

‘More coffee,’ she said as she dreamily looked up at the ceiling while engaged in a serious episode of nose picking.

‘Yes m’am,’ he said as he noticed January’s far away look that seemed to be happening more and more frequently. He hadn’t asked her about the death of her husband, but it seemed she hadn’t really noticed.

On the floor, April was turning just a shade or two darker blue in the face and his legs were kicking less frequently – January now inspecting the results of her recent nasal mining expedition.
Kcaapaak returned a few minutes later with fresh coffee to find that April had unfortunately started to breathe again and was now bolting down his bowl of Kiddlepops, which having sat for so long in tepid milk, now had a definite septic sludge look to them. January was smiling at her son while playing with one of her long blonde ringlets, but with an odd smile that appeared more like a trance. Her bright blue unblinking eyes staring at April, but on closer inspection she was more looking through him.

‘Your coffee m’am. Will you be accompanying your son to the fitting this afternoon?’

‘What fitting?’ she asked, as she was jolted from her trance and started rabidly scratching her left armpit.

‘For his investiture robes m’am.’

‘Oh the investiture. Yes I like investitures. What time?’

‘Three m’am, in the Stellar Chamber.’

‘April? Did you hear that?’ she asked. ‘You’re going to have a new outfit for your investiture.’

Ignoring his mother completely, April picked up his bowl and slurped the remainder of his cereal and milk sludge from the bowl. ‘I’m sure you’ll look so handsome,’ was ignored as well as he tossed the empty bowl to the floor.
‘Yes. Three will be fine Kcrikklli.’

‘Oh, and m’am, you have a meeting with Kaybob Krizzle, The Puissant of Karhoonaa at eleven to discuss the date of April’s investiture.’

‘And April?’

‘Yes, The Puissant of Karhoonaa is of course expecting the heir’s attendance m’am.’

‘Well, I suppose he’ll have to come, but you know how much April hates strangers.’

‘Yes m’am. Indeed,’ he said and bid for his exit. ‘Will that be all m’am?’

‘Thank you. I’ll see you at three.’

Kcrikklli Kcaapaak turned and took his leave graciously, but wondered why there was all the mystery and secrecy about the proposed investiture date. It was early March, so the first of April seemed to him the most likely date to invest the young idiot as April the First, Supreme Potentate of the Twelve Sun Systems of Gloth. Within the week his forecast would prove foolishly and extremely accurate. He also pondered about how his highly prized position in the palace had now descended to the depths of lunatic child minding. Both the children and their child mothers. He longed for the days when he worked for rational beings – if he ever really had. It seemed all so long ago. As he trudged away, the thought that lunch beckoned shortly sent a shiver down his increasingly disappointed spine. Gloth was not what Gloth once was.