"There he is," Montiano whispered lowly as Hadrian walked through the maze of tents. "Have you your sword?"
     "Aye," Daron replied, "But brother, are you certain? By killing him we write our names upon the blade of a hundred thousand angry swords - or more! He is a powerful leader, and will so be even in death. Are you absolutely certain...?"
     "Yes, yes! Wipe the foolish doubts from your mind and go."
     Daron stood and went to the High General, hugged him as he would a brother. Hadrian's eyes slid to Montiano, who had their back to them, leaning over the fire.
     "Your brother is not coming?"
     "He will be along later," Daron replied. "He does not wish for you to see him at his worst.
     "I will tell my guards to let him through when he comes along," Hadrian nodded, placing a gentle hand upon Daron's back and moving with him towards the large tent atop the hill.
     "Good, sir. Thank you, sir."
     "You don't need to bring your sidearm along," Hadrian said, his eyes on the sword at Daron's side.
     "What if we are attacked? It is my duty, even in Mourning Time, to protect your life, sir."
     "We will be well-guarded," Hadrian replied, "But I take that as a great compliment and your actions in good faith."
     "Of course, sir," Daron said gently, brushing a bit of golden-blonde hair away from his eyes. "I could never wish you any harm."

     Montiano watched them disappear away to the tent, and then he watched the fire.
     "Tonight we shall be famous," he said to himself, "two sons avenging their father by destroying the tyrant he had been slaughtered for."
     He waited until the sun sank low to gather his things - a knife and a small pistol - and went to the tent.
     "Halt there," a guard said.
     "I am Montiano, I was invited."
     The guards exchanged looks, then lowered their weapons. "Go in then."
     Montiano went in, and the tent was silent and dimly lit, even a bit eerie. There were the remnants of dinner on a table, and...
     Two piles of clothing on the floor - the general's and his brothers.
     Montiano felt his heart begin to race, forcing boiling blood through his veins. He had heard of the acts the general preffered with boys; had he corrupted his brother? Soiled him after everything else he had put them through?
     He rounded a corner and heard a rustle in another room. He pulled his pistol out and readied it, moving slowly towards the door, but then spied something else - a bed, upon it a sleeping figure under the sheets with dark hair. The general!
     Montiano began to move towards the bed to pull the covers back and face his victim, but the figure shifted and his heart jumped. He pulled the trigger once, twice, a third time. He thought he heard a cry of surprise from his brother, and he looked back towards the other door.
     "Daron?"
     He got no answer, and his heart began to swell with terrible thoughts.
     Slowly, he moved up to the side of the bed and pulled the sheets back. His brother's vacant eyes stared up at him, and Montiano let out a cry, falling to his knees beside the bed. He clutched his brother's hand and sobbed.
     "My brother! My brother and my father, both taken by the tyrant! I shall-"
     He felt cold metal press against the back of his head.
     "What would be crueler: killing you or letting you live knowing you have killed your brother and failed to avenge your father?"
     Montiano said nothing.
     "Despite what you may think," the High General said as he tightened his finger to pull the trigger. "I am not a cruel man."