Flames of Rebellion
“He eats food like everyone else, there’s no way he’s really a god.” said a fat man wearing a coat in a rather ugly shade of puke green, sitting at the far left of the table. Next to him was a tall and skinny elven maiden with so much silver jewelry she jangled as she spoke.
“Their little assistant was covering for them taking a nap yesterday. Last I checked gods don’t sleep,” she said in a nasally tone.
“Even if he was a god, they’re incompetent as a leader. Trust me, our plan will go off without a hitch and we’ll be on top of this shithole in no time,” said a lean and lanky bald man with a long angular face, seated at the head of the table. The others nodded in agreement. With the echo of footsteps approaching the door, the topic of conversation was quickly switched to lunch.
The six figures sat at the large table, an obsidian chandelier dangled overhead. At one end of the table sat the bald man wearing a sneer, sitting on the edge of an expensive-looking red throne. The fat man and tall maiden sat at one side along with an empty chair and three other expensively dressed individuals sat at the other. At the foot of the table, a pair of heavy doors adorned the entrance to the hall. The golden handle turned and the doors were swung open. An impressive figure strode into the room.. He stood heads taller than everyone in the room and was draped in a cloak of minx fur and wore a fine silk shirt. They had light gray skin and piercing gold eyes framed by long white hair, with large gold jewelry adorning their horns and ears, and down their neck. Following behind him was a woman with obsidian purple skin, the sides of her head shaven and her hair styled into a vicious mane. A large two-handed curved sword was strapped to her back. She was wearing full plate armor. She stopped just inside, firmly closing the doors and barring the exit from the occupants.
Yakeru stopped at the foot of the table and met the eyes of the man on the red throne. They smirked and chuckled to themselves. He paused for a moment, surveying the crowd and making eye contact with each of them.
“I’ve heard a little rumor,” they said with a voice dripping with condescension and poise. Yakeru began to stalk around the room, “that some of you are, concerned about the state of our operations.” They overemphasized their words, speaking clearly and slowly.
“There’s no need to treat us like children,” interrupted the man on the red throne. Yakeru’s stride hitched as they snickered.
“I’ve heard that some of you don’t think I’m fit for my position. That you, the administrators of our mines, would somehow be better suited,” he continued, not changing his tone, “and that behind my back you insult me.” He leaned between the fat man and the tall woman, his movements slow and predatory. The two trembled slightly, refusing to meet his gaze even as he drew away.
“Some of you traitorous rats don’t believe I am who I say I am,” they said, this time sharply, as they stopped beside the crimson throne.
“Well, how about a little demonstration, shall we?” he said, clapping a hand around the bald man’s shoulders, leaning in to meet his eyes. With a flick of their wrist, every light in the room was extinguished, the flames coalescing at a single small point in the center of the table. The people at the table all sat up straight and a few hurriedly whispered to each other, the light and shadow only providing glimpses of the others’ expressions. Yakeru smirked and from the flame formed a small flicking figure. It was a woman happily dancing. From the group rose a few reassured sighs. As the dance continued they laughed and awed, relaxing in the presence of the show of beauty. The fat man reached his hand out trying to touch the figure.
“Wow, this is incredible!” Said the fat man. Yakeru’s lips curled into a smile.
“Why, thank you Haafu,” Yakeru said to the fat man, and tightened his grip on the bald man’s shoulder, not diverting his attention. The bald man attempted to move away but Yakeru held him down with superhuman strength.
“I love fire. It’s so lovely, wouldn't you say so, Itachi?" said Yakeru to the bald man.
“Yes, yes, the party trick was very impressive,” Itachi said and moved his hand to pry off Yakeru. Yakeru dug their nails into his shoulder and their smile fell. He grasped the Itachi’s wrist and pinned it to the table, palm facing the ceiling. The woman made of fire stopped dancing and began walking towards Itachi.
“Alright, you can let me go now you’ve made your point,” blustered Itachi panic leaking in his voice. With a graceful leap, the flaming figure landed in Itachi’s hand, splashing into blue flames that coated his palm. He shouted out in pain as the fire seared his flesh.
“I’ve made my point huh?” Yakeru said as if speaking to a petulant teenager, staring daggers into each of the other five. He ignored the whimpering Itachi as his hand began to blacken. “I just thought I’d remind you all of my generosity, the hospitality I have granted you by inviting you into my home. Without me, you’re rats scavenging for scraps. You’d due well to not forget again.” The fire jumped from Itachi’s hand back to the lights in the room, the display over. He released his hand from Itachi’s shoulder and instead grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the table.
“Oh, and Itachi, get the fuck out of my chair.” He said before turning his heel and marching out of the room with his guard following with a smirk. Itachi cradled his branded hand and shakily vacated Yakerus’s throne.