The Dragons of Men (The Sons of Liberty Book 2) (23 page)

Victor cried, weeping as he gazed down at his dead brother.

“Answer me!” Sigmund roared.

“Yes, sir,” Victor said, shame and fatigue washing over him.

“Good,” Sigmund said, the anger on his face shifting back to amusement. “What sins you may have committed against us are now forgiven and forgotten. You are now a Recruit in the Patriarchal Armies. What I command, you must do. I will not be lenient on this, but I will be generous and reward your service. Now, please take this time and feel free to express your gratitude for this new chance at life.”

“Thank you,” Victor said, surprised that he had actually thanked the man. However, it felt right to thank Sigmund. It nearly felt as though he had done Victor a favor in giving him a chance to escape eternal torment, even if it had cost Manny his life.

Victor shuddered at that thought.

“As I said,” Sigmund began, rising and turning to the tall African man. “Loyal to me and me alone. And as you promised…his head within months.”

“Yes, Sigmund,” Mahiri replied slowly with the nod of his head. “I believe you have created the perfect war machine. I look forward to watching it upon the field of battle.”

“Good,” Sigmund said. “If we lack the drones, then we will use an ever growing horde of men and women, ready to die if it means avoiding the fire. Now go to the larger cities nearby and convert all that you can. The Brazilian has assured me the supply of IRDs and injection serum will continue to flow so long as his lab remains hidden. In the meantime, I want these new Recruits mobilized and marching for the Imperium’s borders.”

“And where do we march first?” Mahiri asked.

“Go northeast,” Sigmund replied. “We will begin by taking Montgomery. From there, we will hit Birmingham and Atlanta, then Charlotte and Charleston, moving northeast until we take DC. By the time we are at Lukas’ doorstep, we will have a mob of one million savages ready to fight to the death with pitchforks if need be.” Sigmund turned back to Victor, smiling as he did so. “Take this one with you to Montgomery. If he was Special Forces, then he should know a thing or two about waging war. I want him to be an example for others to rally behind.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mahiri replied.

“Good,” Sigmund said, turning to Victor. “Victor, my friend, your brother is dead. I do not know if you had other kin, but I want you to consider them dead as well. The Patriarchs are your family now. Would you be willing to do me the honor of leading my Recruits on the ground? I cannot promise you life, but I can promise you life outside the fire so long as you serve me well.”

“I will do whatever you ask,” Victor said, his heart sinking as he realized how true his words were.

“Then you will begin to train so that you may soon guide my new Recruits into battle. When that day comes, you will lead them with an unfailing courage. You fought bravely in the streets and even more so in this room. Let no man question your loyalty. I say let the first convert be the first testimony to the masses.”

Victor Castle nodded his head as Sigmund, the woman, and Mahiri left the room. Others came into the room—helping Victor up before taking him to a nearby apartment where he was cleaned, fed, and left to himself with only his little drone and his ever-growing thoughts for revenge to keep him company.

Stay strong, Victor,
he thought as he lay awake, crying alone in his room.
They will falter. They will fail. One day…you will know peace again.

One day, you will have your revenge.

C
hapter
S
even

A Symbolic Destruction

Lukas Chambers fingered a scar on the back of his hand irritably as he sat quietly in the White House control room, waiting patiently for the final attendees to arrive. It had been twenty-four days since the Battle of DC where he had cut his hand on a piece of shattered glass as his men had hastily escorted him from the Capitol Building. The two inch wound had not been particularly deep or painful, requiring only seven butterfly stitches to seal. Still, the scab had lingered and itched for the past three and a half weeks, seizing more and more of Lukas’ attention as he wondered why the healing nanobots that the Brazilian had injected into him years ago were failing to mend the damage.

“What are you so preoccupied with?” Jacob Brekor asked, his projection standing off to the right.

Lukas glanced up and frowned, rubbing his thumb over the injury once more. “My hand. I cut it in the Capitol Building during the battle and it’s not healing as fast as I had expected.”

“You think it’s infected?” Sandra Bowie asked. “If so, you should—”

“It’s not infected,” Lukas cut in. “I’ve had a physician look at it twice. He said it’s healing as fast as a human body should be able to heal.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Sandra asked.

“I…well, I guess nothing,” Lukas replied, unwilling to discuss his concern further. So very few knew about the life-giving nanobots the Patriarchs had created years ago. They had invigorated him and all other Patriarchs, causing them to heal much quicker and regulate the effects of aging. He wasn’t ready to disclose his fountain of youth to those around him until he secured the Brazilian for himself. In time, they too might be given the same life-giving injection. For the Imperium, only Maria, Jacob, and Lukas knew of its secrets, and he saw no point in giving them away just yet.

“How much longer must we wait?” Geoffrey Poteau asked, leaning back in his chair and stifling a yawn. As though to answer his question, the door at the far end of the room opened, followed by General Kane and a contingent of new faces.

“Forgive us for keeping you so long,” General Kane replied.

“There is no need for forgiveness,” Lukas replied, observing the newcomers. There were six new faces altogether, just as Lukas had requested. “Please begin. I would hate to miss the fireworks scheduled for this evening.”

“As would we all,” General Kane replied, motioning to his left. “Mr. Anniston, would you care to initiate the presentation?”

Warren nodded his head and guided his hands about the air in front of him. The lights overhead dimmed and the image of a golden Imperium Seal quickly filled Lukas’ vision, gradually rotating in the center of the room. General Kane stepped forward and hesitated a moment, staring at the seal as he slowly encircled it.

“I feel I should begin by conveying a humble gratitude for what you have placed in my charge. For years I wondered if mankind would ever know true peace. I will not lie and pretend there are not many career soldiers like me who wish to fight for other reasons than peace. If history has a common denominator, it is war. As such, men like me are products designed for that reason. For many soldiers, home can only be found on a distant battlefield. But the fleeting dream of peace…that is a dream worth fighting for. It is what I hope to achieve with your new Imperium Army. You asked me to forge a weapon great enough to build your kingdom. I stand here today believing that weapon has begun to take shape.”

Lukas’ eyes widened as the Imperium Seal shifted—rotating as it rose in the air toward the ceiling. As it stopped, three golden lines branched off from the bottom of the seal. They grew to form three new unique emblems—one was a shield, another a hammer, and the third a spear. They too had additional lines slowly branching away, creating more emblems and offshoots that reached for the ground.

“Your tree of life,” General Kane said, pointing to the Imperium’s seal at the top. “And it all begins with you, my Sovereign.”

“Impressive, General Kane,” Lukas replied with a grin.

“General Kane no longer,” Eli replied. “Though we will get to that shortly. For now, let us explain the reorganization of the Imperium’s military. You might wonder why a man who desires peace with all his heart wishes to create the most disciplined, fast-reacting military known to man. I say for peace to be achieved, we must create the mightiest of swords—a blade to break all other blades.”

“Well put,” Jacob replied.

“Well put indeed,” Lukas said with a smile.

“As I said, all things begin with you. As the Sovereign, you must be our alpha and omega. If history has taught us anything about the art of war, it is that wars fail for lack of conviction. If I am to implore you to do anything outside of leading this war machine, it would be to make the people fall in love with you. Let you be their conviction. Let you be the idol to rally behind. If you can continue to do that, I believe this military will win you the world.”

Lukas nodded his head, pleased with the flattery.

“I’ve created three military branches from which everything operates,” Kane said, using his hands to shift the golden network and focus on the first three emblems. “The first is the Imperium Guard. It is the shield that will meet those who wish to besiege what we have established. We’ve broken it up into four categories. The largest branch, the Border Guard, is being created to defend our outmost borders. In time, I hope to dissolve this guard…as I hope this Imperium grows to become borderless.”

“A dream we all dare to dream,” Lukas said. “May we never fail.”

“Agreed,” Kane replied with the nod of his head. “From there we have the Sector Guard. It will protect large sectors—such as the northeast or gulf region once you’ve won it. After that, there is the Civic Guard. It will be established to work directly with the Sector Guard, defending cities and bases. Finally, there is the Sovereign Guard. It is created to protect that which matters most. You.”

“Easy with your fawning, Mr. Kane,” Jacob said. “The Sovereign is a married man.”

A wave of low laughter rippled through the room, though Kane simply nodded his head and smiled. “The Sovereign Guard will replace what was the Secret Service. It will be composed of two hundred agents and twice as many drones led by this man, Theodore Yates.”

The short man to Kane’s left—a man with a head as bald as the desert and a face as hard as a mountain—nodded his head. “It is a pleasure to serve you and your family.”

“You look vaguely familiar,” Lukas said.

“I was a friend of John Fresnel,” Theodore replied. “John and I both trained as Patriarch agents before being deployed to protect you as President.”

“I don’t recall seeing you with the Secret Service,” Lukas said.

“John was Secret Service and I was CIA. I worked with Jacob many times and he can vouch for my skills and loyalties.”

Lukas glanced over at Jacob’s apparition. Jacob nodded his head casually in reply.

“Very well,” Lukas said. “Your services are appreciated. Now Kane, please continue.”

“If the Imperium Guard is to serve as the shield others will break themselves against, then the Imperium Hammer is to be the weapon used to batter down those who try to stand against us. Like many other military forces, it has been divided into three separate divisions. One for the army, the second for the navy, and the third for air superiority. Each will be governed by a Battle Marshal. It is my hope that all three divisions will be overseen by you and me during battle as often as possible.”

“I would like that,” Lukas said.

“I will serve you as your first Battle Lord. As Battle Lord, I am to manage the theater and direct the Battle Marshals.”

“Have you selected these Battle Marshals yet?” Jacob asked.

“I have,” Kane replied. “They are currently transitioning into their new roles and will be here to meet before our first battle. Nevertheless, I’d like to make it clear that while we all have backgrounds in the United States Military, your army will not function as the United States Military did.”

“And why is that?” Lukas asked.

“Because I intend to give you a military that cuts through the bureaucratic waste in order to function as a flawless engine of war,” Kane replied. “Each Division will be separated into many Legions. Each Legion will consist of twenty-six hundred men governed by a single high-ranking officer titled the Tribune. From there….”

Lukas watched the glowing image glow as Kane continued on, breaking the Imperium army down like a scientist looking to discover a single atom. Legions were broken into Cohorts that were led by Prefects. Cohorts were divided into Brotherhoods that were overseen by Wardens. Finally, Brotherhoods were separated into Bands—a group of eleven Initiates managed by an officer called an Adherent. It was a simple breakdown of a mighty war machine where a single Initiate fighting on the ground was only seven layers beneath Lukas himself.

“It’s all very…Roman,” Jacob said. “Very Roman and yet different, but I see no reason why it can’t function well.”

“The fact that it is different is what I like the most,” Lukas said, grinning as he rose from his chair. He walked to the center of the room, encircling the display. “The United States of America had left quite a footprint on the world. Many will be looking to us, wondering if we will simply stamp a different name on an old idea. I hope the Battle Lord’s desire to remake that which he’s been charged with governing can serve as inspiration to the rest of you. Let us make something the world has never seen before.” Lukas paused as the others nodded their heads and uttered their agreements. He then glanced up at the third and final emblem. “Tell me about the spear.”

“The spear represents what I hope to be my greatest gift to you,” Kane replied. “While the Imperium Guard will defend your borders and the Imperium Hammer was created to expand them, this third branch serves another purpose.”

“Which is what?” Lukas asked.

“You,” Kane replied with a smile. “In ancient Rome, a single force was created to protect the Emperor and do his bidding. They would protect the Emperor against mutiny, assassinate rivals, or besiege Rome’s own citizens. Whatever the Emperor wanted, they did. To honor that very concept, I give you the Praetorians. Three Legions of highly trained soldiers that are loyal to you alone. They will not follow any other.”

“How can you be so sure?” Sandra asked.

“Because they each volunteered to be injected with the last of Sigmund’s drug that we possessed,” Kane nodded to a tall, middle aged soldier at his left. The man drew a silver cylinder from a pouch and approached Lukas.

“I am Damian Ross,” the man replied. “I was a decorated Navy Seal before your light birthed a new dawn. I have led men, women, and machine into battle. I spent six years defending the United States, only to watch as others pissed away its greatness long before you came. With you, I had hoped the world might actually lay down their differences and unite. I now see that was never America’s dream.” The man lowered to one knee and handed the cylinder to Lukas. “Your dream is my dream. There is no mountain too high or abyss too deep for us to brave. Where you point, I will lead your men. If you’d like, you may test it now for your own assurances. I have experienced the fires before and fear not the pain nor your direction. I fear only failure.”

Lukas smiled and took the cylinder, his gaze shifting across the room. Everyone stared back at him as though he were a dangerous animal, a wild beast more precarious than ever before. A subtle fear masked their faces as they no doubt wondered just how Lukas might test his new gift.

Let them wonder,
Lukas thought as he lowered his trump card.

“Your word is good enough for now,” Lukas replied. “Any man willing to subject himself to those fires for my sake is a man I trust.”

“Very well,” Damian replied. “You alone control the Praetorians.”

“Good,” Lukas said, turning to Kane. “A fine gift you have given me, Eli. And I do not just mean the Praetorians. What you have created in such little time will seal our victory.”

“I believe so as well, my Sovereign,” Kane replied. “Our factories are constructing Yellow Jackets around the clock. Have you made a decision on when and where you wish to strike the Patriarchs?”

“Almost,” Lukas replied.

“As the Battle Lord, I feel I must advise you to strike soon,” Kane said. “If Sigmund’s forces truly swell every day, then every day we wait we risk damning ourselves.

“How soon could we attack if I give the order?” Lukas asked.

“We are ready now, my Sovereign,” Kane replied.

“Then you will have my answer soon,” Lukas replied. “Perhaps tonight. For now, I wish to join my wife, watch the fireworks, and sit down for a lovely dinner.”

“Will you two be joining us near the lawn?” Sandra asked.

“No,” Lukas said with a smile. He was on the verge of becoming an unchallengeable king—a man whose wants knew no limits. “I have a special meal planned to celebrate. It’s not every night a king destroys the false gods of a fallen nation.”

A loud horn broke the night three times before a flicker of lights traveled up the stone spire, creating small clouds of dust and debris that hovered in the air as the Washington Monument crumbled to the ground. Maria Brekor squeezed her husband’s hand as the polished memorial disappeared behind the trees that lined the south lawn, followed by a distant rumble. She looked over at Lukas as the thunder subsided, his eyes alight with a clear and dangerous joy.