Headed by a Snake

⟬ Head Magistrate's Residence, Underground Level. ⟭

Antonidus placed his handkerchief to his mouth, coughing wetly as his chest convulsed with pain. There was more blood than usual...

It was the damned smoke in the air... or the fluctuating weather... or maybe... allergies? ...Arena sand? Maybe when that damned Decanus assaulted him in the coliseum stands a year prior...

There were dozens of people in his home.

For years he'd been criticized for having so many commoners in his employ... or for the nepotism amongst his administrative staff. It was 'flippant' usage of city taxes, they'd say.

Several high personalities were noted to frequent the administration building, as well. In Antonidus' time as a politican, he'd made plenty of powerful allies... veteran merchants, aged guild leaders, corrupt bishops. Many of them sought sanctuary in the walls of his home.

He deserved a full staff who catered to his every whim. He deserved the adulation and obeisance of powerful men and women. The wealthiest city in Tyrion had only prospered for the past thirty years because of his contributions-- and his, alone.

Admittedly, he couldn't give less of a shite about those servants... nor for supplying room and board to his subordinates. He wasn't attached to any of his so-called 'friends'... the ones who scoffed at any mention of the dragon's voice.

They were not Faithful. They were fools... deaf and blind to the truth.

He kept them around for such a case as was current. Those mushroom-brained idiots would finally be useful, for once.

"Wrrghhh.... ArrrghhhhHGH..."

The City Treasurer was the next to die. Sensing his fate, his mouth lolled open as he tried to voice his useless opinion. The poison he'd been injected with had taken away most of his facilities, but not the sense of pain... and apparently, he could still faintly protest.

Antonidus glanced over to the corner of the panic room underneath the kitchens. Some forty bodies had been arranged haphazardly in a pile, lit by too-expensive candles, a gold-alloy brazier, and a magical focus suspended in the center of the room.

"Cease your struggling, old 'friend'," He pat the fellow's round, sweat-covered cheek, "You approved the purchase of this very nice Tyrion steel dagger-- as well as most of the ritual components, here."

"Humu humu... hrrrrnnn..." The chubby man began to blubber and cry, not in full control of his tongue.

"Do not be afraid, your death shall bring about something greater," Antonidus explained... sarcasm tinging his voice, "Blah blah blahhh~"

"Hummmm mmmmgh~!" The fellow's eyes looked towards the pile of bodies.

"Oh, those?" Antonidus shook his head, "'They haven't worked so far,' you say? Well, I've never performed ritual summoning before... so there is a necessary degree of trial-and-error."

He plunged the dagger through the treasurer's ribs and into his heart. He held it there for several seconds until the man stopped twitching, "Voice in the Flame... or the Snake God-- whoever can hear me, I beseech you: take this... forty-second sacrifice."

"Forty-fourth, this sun, actually," A voice chuckled. "I understand missing one, but two? I don't think you're taking this seriously, Head Magistrate."

Any icy chill ran down Antonidus' back, irrespective of the dozens of sources of warm lighting in the smoky room.

Slowly turning, he saw... himself... an identical, long-bearded doppelganger of himself. Instead of magistrate's robes, he wore a simple tunic and trousers, a darker black than the surrounding shadows.

"Come to mock me, Zehr?" He spat. "When you've brought your enemies to my city gates?"

"My enemies are your enemies," The Snake God shrugged, stroking his long white beard in mockery. "Your Snake Cult was going to attract trouble, somesun, regardless of my interference."

"MY Snake Cult!?" Antonidus fumed, "Everything I've done, I've done FOR YOU!!"

"Yes, yes, I know. Congratulations. Well done," Zehr applauded politely, but all while wearing an ignoble sneer. "You've been rewarded for it. Your Class has changed from Holy Magus to Void Summoner, has it not?"

"That!" Antonidus raised his voice, his frustration mounting, "was because of the sacrifices I have made for POWER!"

"Well... yes," Zehr furrowed his bushy white eyebrows...

"That is how your ritual sacrifices work," He casually explained. "There is always... a price."

Antonidus furrowed his own brows, drew the dagger from the dead man and stabbed him again in frustration.

Flames burst from out of the corpse's chest... to be absorbed by the clear white crystal appeared levitating in the room's center. The stylized lightning bolt within the magical focus glowed for a brief moment... then again fell inert.

"Then the price I pay with these bodies, Zehr? With this... this Fire Stone as the ritual focus! Is it not enough for you?!"

Zehr stretched his wrinkled mouth into a too-wide grin, then licked his lips with a thin, forked tongue, "Perhaps you've been praying to the wrong god?"

"Wrong god?!" Antonidus roared, gritting his teeth, "WRONG GOD?!?"

What else was left? He told all his Faithful that the voices they were hearing belonged to some... mythical creature speaking for the Flame... but it was all a fantastical LIE!

In the distant past, he was a devout practitioner of the Tyrion religion. Those suns... were long gone. The current him had been practicing heretical magic for decades under Zehr's guidance. He didn't dare pray to the Eternal Flame anymore... out of guilt... and out of fear.

"You're right, f*cking here, you shite-filled Snake God!!" He shouted, again stabbing the fat man's chest for emphasis. "Now, activate my damned summoning ritual!"

"Hey, hey," The aging doppelganger lifted his empty palms, "I hear your prayers, just fiiiine. And I've relayed your hopes and dreams to that... that other one, as we've discussed."

"What is it, then?" Antonidus seethed... "How do I save my city from this Flame-taken-- whatever the hells is outside right now!?"

Zehr smiled... the same, insidious smile Antonidus had seen all those years ago, when he was little more than a low-level Snake Cult neophyte.

"A simple fix, Head Magistrate. Direct your sacrifices... to the Dragon God."