[center][h3]Tautom[/h3]
[b]Before the Gates of the Balti Palace[/b][/center]

Under a mellow rain, blood and water mixing equally, men scurried back and forth in the evening-turning-night, hours expended on clearing the street of the hopeless number of corpses. Vetericus walked amongst them as a bloody spectre, inspecting the interior walls with Crocus at his side and Vierland not far behind, frequently bogged down in the direction of his own men. He hadn’t admitted it, but the creeping realisation that he was at a loss as to how to proceed without incurring horrific casualties on their troops slowly dawned. Thinking as he went, he was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of a nigh-theatrical voice from the walls. 

[i]‘’Wow! What tussle dynamic has graced these streets! Awe-mazing! Viigoc Mentality! 
Are you their leader?’’[/i]
The jovial call, trying not to sound distraught, seems aimed at Vetericus, the one that walked at the fore of his company. The voice continues:
[i]‘’You there! You -- with the stylish facepaint and the funny hair! I am the King of this city you are so rudely conquering!’’[/i]

Vetericus turned his head upwards, observing a bare-chested and gaunt man leaning over the parapet. He contrasted Vetericus in nearly every respect; where his weapons and armour spoke of the blood that had been shed, hair matted and warpaint smudged, this man on the wall looked akin to a well-dressed corpse. Immaculate, and sickly. His fine blue cloak, the diadem atop his head and the sceptre of office gripped in gnarled fingers told Vetericus it could be none other than King Orso if the announcement hadn't, at last crawling from his hole. It would be insincere for him to say no satisfaction was felt upon looking in the eye of the clearly rattled, verminous ruler. 
[i]“Come to see what awaits you and the rest of your ilk? Or will you show some spirit and come down from your-”[/i]

Before he could finish speaking, King Orso raised his shrill voice in the hopes to stem the flood of ill will.
[i]‘’There there, master barbarian! Clearly we started out on the wrong foot here, for I am not your enemy!
In matter of fact, I am very much impressed by your achievements these last two days! 
A man of such vigor as yourself would make for a suitable Grand Domesticus of the Royal Muscle -- a champion of Baltia!’’[/i]

Vetericus, at this, was for perhaps the first time in his life taken aback. He could not stop himself from looking towards Crocus, catching the growing crowd of Baltavigocs who had halted their duties to watch out of the corner of his eye. Orso’s declaration was met with a raucous laughter, from himself and his Guard.
[i]“You wish to make one last joke before I tear your mongrel, fetid grasp from this city? I care nothing for your thoughts on ‘worthiness’, defiler of God and traitor to ancestors ‘king’.”[/i]

Orso all the while does not let the laughter dismay him. Thoroughly convinced he can make the Viigoc defectors see the error of their ways, he cries on. Vetericus’ vile vitriol can only be met with a calm kindness.
[i]‘’You are among the Viigocs, I can see it in you. I am a merciful ruler… [b]‘YOUR’[/b] ruler too. I am of the blood of Odovakre. Give me a second chance and I will---[/i]

Vetericus felt his knuckles go white as he gripped the long haft of his axe, rage causing him to consider throwing it. 
[i]“You rule nothing. The name leaving your tongue is insult enough - you think to pretend you can even compare to it? You think to claim my loyalty? You will die as much a fool as you have lived in the skin of one.”[/i]

[i]‘’Is there.. Is there nothing I can say? You know as well as I do that there is [b]no way[/b] you can take this fortress. You may conquer in the end, but at what cost? Neither of us wish for all this needless slaughter to carry on. Surely you are of the same mind? I bid you end this now![/i]

Vetericus in that moment was consumed fully, blinding rage and hate prevailing, practically spewing from his eyes.
[i]“You can run, Orso, but you can’t hide. My power over ‘your’ city is too great; I know that God is on my side. Your penance is too late. I shall weed you heathens out one by one, purge you in fire in front of everyone. I shall make examples of you degenerates, I’ll send you down to hell’s fiery pits!”[/i]
The Baltavigoc Guard met this vehement proclamation with a cheer, making it clear they were eager to follow through on those words.

Orso seemed to have lost his tongue in the face of this tremendous foe. The retainers that accompany him show nothing but shock and revulsion on their faces hearing the Viigoc’s words. After a moment of silence, Orso can only reply with a nervous snicker.
[i]“Well.. I tried. Just so you know, I tried. If you want peace, I am all ears. But if you want to rage… Than your rage is clear.’’[/i]
With that flux of the snivel keeping his nose in the air, Orso turns around, cloak aflutter as he departs from the wall.

Vetericus meanwhile made use of the invigorating anger now flowing through his veins, turning towards Crocus. His own outburst had provided him his idea. His order was made through gritted teeth.
[i]“Find me Quintus.”[/i]