Role

Chapter 4

Another Day, Another Dead Warmaster. Another rise of an Emperor. Zanzar never
admired the last two War Masters, he was promised the seat from Thokran, and
the fool placed an elder, but weaker blade in his seat. Now they were both
dead, and Zanzar pondered his position in the sect hall once more with his
large chests of riches. He was not worried though. Watching his peers and
lessers fail was a delight for him. Nobody could match his wits in his mind,
certainly he was the sharpest kind in the Empire, if not the most devious and
unpredictable. Zanzar despised being the only worthy blade in the Empire, he
knew his sect was stronger than the rest of the Empire combined. Had crushed
countless foes under his heels, forced and conned his way into his blood
taxes, and subjugated new lands. His guild title was not a good representation
of his true skills. Perhaps it was time to roll the dice, and take a chance to
further his position. If weak blades would continue to present themselves,
perhaps Zanzar would offer himself to the Emperor and Destuvius as the
superior alternative. If his guild title is not enough for the Emperor, then
let the fool place another weak War Master on the council. Zanzar knew all
that he desired would be his in time. He had even talked a strong villager
into taking his own life in the shrine of Morius, a willing sacrifice in fear
and awe of Zanzar. His reputation was growing, even the new Emperor had
already all but said he was the only reasonable choice and strength of the
blades. How could he show it, and leave all doubt behind?