(Chapter 35 The Purge II)
"You called for me? Father?"
Tempest asked, stepping into his Father's study. The room was filled with a haze of smoke as his father sat at his desk, trying to calm himself with a cigarette after his recent outburst. Tempest had planned to see him later, but Pierre's summons had brought him here sooner than expected.
"Sit."
His Father commanded him as if he were a dog. Without hesitation, Tempest sat down on the vacant seat near his Father's desk, while Pierre stood silently by the door. The tension in the room was palpable, the only sound being the faint crackling of the cigarette in his Father's hand.
"Where is your Teacher, Constantine?"
Mengsk asked him as he extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, his eyes piercing into Tempest's soul.
"I haven't seen him these past two weeks, Father. We had a fight, which resulted in him leaving and telling me he won't be my teacher anymore. He sent me this through a messenger hawk earlier."
Tempest reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled note, passing it to his father. Mengsk took the note with a sharp, deliberate motion, unfolding it slowly as if weighing each word before he even read it.
"I will give you one last chance to change your mind. Meet me in the abandoned village, Val-des-Ombres, three days from now. I sincerely hope you reconsider, Young Master."
Mengsk's eyes narrowed as he read the note, his jaw tightening with every word. He placed the note down on his desk with a heavy hand, the sound of paper hitting wood echoing in the silence. He looked up at Tempest, his gaze as cold as ice.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Mengsk asks him, expecting an explanation from his son.
"For the past six years, Constantine has always tried to persuade me to get rid of you, Father. Every time he brought up the topic, I brushed it off, hoping he would forget about it someday. But he never did. He grew more persistent, more insistent. It was as if he believed he could turn me against you with enough time and effort. I never thought he would go this far, though. Now, it seems he's willing to do anything to see you removed from power."
Tempest's voice was steady, but the weight of his words hung heavily in the room. His Father's expression darkened, the anger evident in his eyes.
"Why am I just hearing this now?"
"I... I enjoyed having him as my Teacher. His teachings of the sword were something I grew fond of, and every time we sparred, I relished every moment of it. I sincerely hoped he would eventually drop the topic of me replacing you and instead focus solely on being my Teacher. I never wanted it to come to this."
Tempest's voice wavered slightly, betraying the deep conflict within him. In response, Mengsk's hand moved with sudden force, delivering a sharp slap across his son's cheek.
"Insolent son of mine!"
Mengsk shouted at his son, his voice filled with anger. Tempest flinched from the impact of the slap, yet his face remained an emotionless mask, and unreadable.
"This whole rebellion happened because of you! Do you know how much damage this entire charade has cost?!"
Mengsk continued to shout at his son, his voice growing louder with each passing moment.
"My apologies, Father..."
"Be fucking grateful, you're my son, if you weren't, I would slit your throat right this instant. You've been nothing but a disappointment, and it's only my blood that keeps you alive."
Mengsk glared at Tempest, his rage barely contained, his voice dripping with venom.
"Pierre! Assemble the garrisons and knights! We will march at Val-des-Ombres! Three days from now!"
Mengsk shouted at Pierre.
"With all due respect, Your Grace, thi-"
"I didn't fucking tell you to question me..."
Mengsk warned Pierre, his voice laced with menace. He then shifted his piercing gaze back to Tempest, the anger in his eyes unrelenting.
"As for you... If this is a fucking trap, I swear to the false Archon, I will kill you, Tempest..."
Mengsk warned Tempest, grabbing his chin, and forcing him to look at him.
"I will rape your Mother, as many times as I'd liked, until he gives me a son that is not a disappointment, do you understand? Tempest?"
"Yes... Father..."
Mengsk warned him, pushing his head, as he unheld his grip at Tempest's chin.
"Good! You will ride by my side when we march in three days. Until then, you have no further business here. Get out of my office!"
His words were sharp and commanding, leaving no room for argument.
"Right..."
Tempest bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment of his Father's command. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him with a quiet but resolute finality. As he left, the tension in the room lingered, leaving Mengsk alone with Pierre to discuss the matters at hand.
"Calm down... Calm yourself, Tempest..."
Tempest muttered to himself, his voice barely audible, as he clenched his teeth in barely contained anger. He stood just outside his father's office door, his fists trembling at his sides. The weight of Mengsk's harsh words echoed in his mind, especially the part with what he said about his Mother, fueling his simmering rage.
"I want to kill him so bad..."
Tempest muttered to himself, his hand gripping his chest as his breathing became ragged. His Delusion in his pocket began to glow fiercely, casting a red hue across his eyes. It felt as though the Delusion was urging him to turn back, to storm into his Father's office and end his life right then and there.
"Not now... Not after all the hard work we laid off... Calm down..."
Tempest muttered to himself, he took a deep breath to calm himself, and shortly the Delusion in his pocket reverted back to its original state.
"Three days... I can wait..."
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*Three days later...*
The door to Mengsk's office swung open, but the figure who had opened it remained unseen. As the door creaked wide, the sound of footsteps began to echo through the room, drawing closer to Mengsk's desk. Despite the disturbance, Mengsk remained calm and composed, his focus unwavering as he continued to sift through his papers.
"Ghost reporting..."
The figure who had opened the door slowly revealed himself, his suit becoming visible as he deactivated his cloaking. As the shimmering distortion of invisibility dissipated, he stood there, fully materialized and poised.
"Stone, you have arrived..."
Mengsk said to the Ghost Operator named, Stone.
"At your service... Your Grace..."
Stone replied.
"Good. Pierre's scouts have reported that the rebels are consolidating their forces in Val-des-Ombres village. This is our chance to crush their pathetic charade once and for all. Stone, I need you to keep a close eye on my son. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Do I make myself clear?"
Mengsk's tone was authoritative and unwavering, his gaze piercing as he addressed Stone with a commanding presence.
"Yes sir..."
Stone replied.
"Good. Have your squads concealed within the carriages. Once we arrive, disembark immediately and take your positions. Eliminate Constantine on sight, no matter what. We cannot afford any mistakes in this operation."
Mengsk's voice was firm and resolute, his eyes locking onto Stone with an unyielding intensity.
"I'm on it, sir..."
Stone nodded in acknowledgment, and then his suit shimmered and vanished as he activated its cloaking feature once more. Without a word, he quietly exited the room, leaving Mengsk alone to ponder the impending assault.
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In his room, Tempest was putting on his attire, with Melissa, standing on the side.
"Melissa, leave the mansion today because later, this place might turn into a bloody warzone."
Tempest said to Melissa, as he finished putting on his attire.
"I wish you good luck, Young Master."
Melissa replied, bowing her head slightly.
"Return when the news that we won arrives, never look back, when we fail."
Tempest said.
"Please don't say that, Young Master."
"Mm, I will see you again, Melissa, and once this is over, you will be my secretary."
Tempest said as he prepared to leave his room.
"I am honored, Young Master."
After finishing his preparations, Tempest left his room and made his way outside the mansion. As he stepped into the courtyard, he surveyed the formidable assembly before him. The remnants of the Knights of the Golden Hand stood in disciplined rows, their armor gleaming and weapons at the ready. Beyond them, the soldiers and Mekas were arrayed in a formidable display of military might, a combined force of 2,400 strong. The sheer scale of the gathering underscored the gravity of the impending operation.
'This is going to be a bloodbath... Forgive me when we see each other again in the Opere Epiclese, Lady Furina...'