Trapped

The soft creak of leather sounded beneath him as he shifted his massive weight in his high back chair at the head of the long monogamy table. To either side of the table sat ten other men also large of girth, powdered faces and drenched in scented oils.

"Today gentleman, we gather here for one reason and one reason only," the fat man at the head of the table announced in a soft, high voice.

"That reason is that of one of the utmost importance to the advancement of our people, and the defense of our current status. The elimination of Magic. Thus I put forward that we send an army north to destroy the wizards and their holds."

Several voices from around the table shouted out their agreement to the head fat man’s statement.

"Now," he said raising his hands to quite his eager comrades, "we must come to a conclusion this instance."

Clapping his hands twice, five soldiers moved into the room by the only door off to the left of the head man.

One of the soldiers stepped forward while the other four took up post by the door.

"Sir Melico, we have set up a perimeter around the building"

"Good man," Melico approved nodding.

"What the hell is this all about Melico?" a red faced man shouted, spraying spittle across the table.

Looking calmly at the outraged man six seats down the table to the right of him, Melico waved his hand lightly to the soldier at his side. Stepping forward to obey his command with pleasure, the soldier drew a small pistol from his belt, aimed and fired. The bullet seemed to move slowly as it wound its way toward the outraged man. Like a kick in the face, the man’s head jerked back as the bullet touched his lower jaw. The piece of steel tore through the flesh and bone of the man’s lower face, showering the floor with a coat of warm dark red blood and little jagged chips of bone. Lifelessly, the body slumped to the floor in a quickly increasing pool of blood, as it poured forth in gushes from where his neck connected to the base his skull. Looking down at the worthless man’s mangled face, Melico tsked with a great sigh.

"Well now," he said looking around the table at the stunned faces of his fellows, "does anyone else disagree with me?"

Everyone around the table shook their heads no vigorously, never taking their eyes of the dead man’s partially open skull.

"Good. I will send our army north immediately," he said, standing up to leave.

Turning back around as if something just popped into his mind, he tapped the soldier, still holding the pistol, on the shoulder.

"Be good man, and remove the body and try to clean the rug."

With that he left the room in silence, with a small grin spread across his rounded features.

A heavy rain poured down in blinding sheets , pounding against the roof and windows of the tower in which he sat. Looking out the west window into the dark rainstorm, a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the sky forcing all shadows on the streets below to flee. Blinking his eyes several times to clear the stars floating across his sight, he gazed across the streets from his high perch of fifty feet, looking for enemy units. The loud crack of thunder that usually follows a lightning bolt exploded in the sky, rattling all the windows of the neighboring building, including his.