Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

cleared his throat.
    "Your Majesty, times are hard for all of us. Credit is scarce, and our resources are not what they were. If we were to attempt the rise in productivity you suggest, I really think the workforce would revolt. We would quite definitely face go-slows, strikes, and even sabotage. Unless, of course, Your Majesty is prepared to provide monies from the Imperial purse to see us through these stormy waters, I fear…"
    "Fear," said Lionstone. "You should fear me, Minister. Fear tor the fate of the Empire if our ministers fail us, and fear for yourself if you fail to carry out our commands. If you can't get the job done, we will have you arrested and executed and see if your second-in-command can do any better. Certainly they'll be more strongly motivated to try harder. Is that clear, Minister?"
    "Eminently so, Your Majesty. I am sure none of us wish in any way to fail our Empress."
    "Oh, some do, Minister. You'd be surprised. Traitors can be found in the most unexpected places. Isn't that right, Lord Summerlsle?"
    And everything went very quiet as all heads turned to look at the Summerlsle.
    People near him drew away slightly, as though his condition might be contagious, and in a moment he was standing all alone in a circle of empty space. Summerlsle
    looked slowly about him, but didn't seem particularly surprised. He looked back at Lionstone and smiled slightly. His gaze was direct and his head proudly erect, and in that moment he seemed every inch the warrior he'd always been.
    "One man's traitor is another man's hero, Your Majesty," he said easily.
    "Perhaps you had some specific name in mind?"
    "Perhaps we did," said the Empress. "You have spoken out against us too many times, Summerlsle, thwarted our will too often."
    "I can remember when it was no crime for a man to speak his mind. Of course, that was a long time ago, in your father's day. And many things have changed since then."
    Lionstone smiled. "You have displeased us, Summerlsle, because your many words of criticism were aimed not only at ourself, but also at our Empire. Can we rely on you to refrain from such treasonous talk in the future?"
    "Don't be silly, Lionstone. I'm too old a dog to learn new tricks, and I wouldn't if I could. I remember you as a child. You were so full of fun when you were younger. If I'd known what you'd grow into… I probably would have let you live anyway. I always was too soft where children were concerned. I'm all that remains of your father's inner circle. The others are all dead. Some at your hand, some not. Just as well. They'd hate to see what you're doing to the Empire they swore to maintain. Under you, honor is a joke and double-dealing is the norm. Justice only for the rich, and death for those who dare to disagree.
    Thirteen generations of your line built this Empire, Lionstone, only to see it crumble in your iron fist. You are the cancer at the heart of the Empire, the blight on the rose."
    There was complete and utter silence in the court. Lionstone had been leaning angrily forward on her throne, but she made herself relax and lean back before
    she spoke.
    "You always did talk too much, old man. You stand condemned by your own words.
    Let no one say we did not give you a fair chance…"
    "Oh, get on with it," said Summerlsle. "I'm to be an example to silence others.
    I knew that before I came here.
    Send forward your pet executioner, and we'll get this show on the road."
    He glared defiantly at Dram, but the Widowmaker just stared calmly back, his hands nowhere near his weapons. Lionstone smiled sweetly.
    "You're not worthy of the Warrior Prime, Summerlsle. I have a more… appropriate executioner for you."
    She nodded to one of her maids, who leapt to her feet, raised her clawed hands above her head and clapped twice. A third man appeared out of nowhere as the concealing hologram blinked out and moved forward through the muddy waters to stand smiling at the Summerlsle. A slender figure in black-and-silver armor, he was young and more than fashionably thin, with pale blond flyaway hair, icy blue eyes and a killer's smile. He carried a sword on both hips, and he walked like a predator. People drew back at the sight of him, and a low whisper passed softly through the packed crowd:
    "Kid Death…Kid Death …"
    He smiled and nodded to the courtiers, and those nearest him recoiled as though he'd tossed a snake into their midst. They knew who and what he was. Everyone in the court had heard of Kid Death,