Fourth Vector Ch. 32

"Don't let the men chase after them," said Bancroft. "Remember what their primary task is--they are to find the Emperor. Charles was not in the palace but he couldn't have gotten very far. Find him!

"I will use every resource at my disposal to find him," promised Zander.

"I want him alive," insisted Bancroft. "The man who kills him will die painfully slow. He needs to be alive!"

And so kicked off the second major manhunt in as many weeks. Most of Bancroft's force of five regiments soon fanned out from the city as Zander coordinated their actions to check all the local towns around the capital. One regiment stayed in the city, searching door-to-door to find the missing emperor. It was a state of affairs that lasted for a full twenty-four hours.

Bancroft knew that time was of the essence. For every hour that Charles remained missing, his chances of escaping completely grew higher. The last thing he wanted was for Charles to make it to one of the major army formations in the north along the Occitanian coast, for there he might be able to scrounge enough troops to make battle inevitable.

With only five regiments, Bancroft had to end this quickly.

That's why his relief was palpable when a report came in that a man matching Charles' description was found in a farmhouse just two miles outside of the city.

"How do you know it's him?" asked Bancroft to the marine captain who found him.

"He's in some pretty simple clothes now but we found a couple of trunks with him that have regal clothing inside," answered the captain. "Plus he had two lone guardsmen with him that were still in formal dress. We killed the guardsmen and we're keeping him under watch at the farmhouse."

Bancroft could have hugged the captain. The news was most welcome indeed, and he arranged to be taken to the farmhouse as quickly as possible.

The house was a modest affair, simple and quite rundown from outside appearances. The house was being guarded from the outside which kept the family that lived there securely locked down while Bancroft was led to the barn where Charles was. Bancroft noticed several places where the bullets had pierced the wooden doors of the barn, evidence of the fight with the guardsmen.

Inside, Bancroft had the most triumphant sight of his life as he found the Emperor sitting on the floor, a ragged wreck of his former self. While Charles was never one to inspire love or admiration with his appearance, it was clear that the last twenty-four hours hadn't been kind to him. The Emperor's clothes were dirty and ripped. His pot belly pushed out from the hem of his peasant's shirt. There was blood on his pant leg but Bancroft suspected it wasn't his.

Charles' eyes were red and had heavy bags underneath. Curiously enough, there was no defiance in them.

It was almost like he knew what his fate would be and he accepted it. That in itself would make what would come to pass next all the more sweeter.

"It seems that fortune hasn't been kind to you, Your Imperial Majesty," said Bancroft with a careless smirk as he moved to stand directly in front of Charles.

Charles shook his head subtly. "In fact, it looks like our roles are reversed from the last time we saw each other, Bancroft. How ironic."

Bancroft grinned. "Isn't it though? Before you were the vengeful father out for revenge and I was your hapless prisoner. I don't think I'll get the chance to play the father role but you certainly fit in well with that of the hapless prisoner."

"So you came here just to gloat to an old man before his end?" snapped Charles. "And here I thought you had more respect for Java than that."

"Oh, but I do." Bancroft knelt in front of Charles. "It's the respect I have for Java that led me to this moment. That let me down my current path. I had too much respect for this country to see it languish under your inept hands."

"So you had my son killed? That was part of your plan, wasn't it?"

Bancroft nodded, finding the need for his protested innocence to have evaporated. "I did. How it gave me pleasure to hear that he was gone. Strangled underneath a pillowcase after a night of drinking. I'm told he didn't put up much of a fuss. How could he? Too weak from the nights of endless alcohol and mundane debauchery. Java deserved better and so I killed George to deliver upon that unfulfilled promise."

Charles shook with rage. "How dare you. You killed the Crown Prince of Java for your foolish notions of grandeur. I will have my vengeance on you one way or another. I will kill everyone. You, anyone connected to your name, and even down to your bastards' bastard children. I will have your name erased from the history books, and then I will piss on the ground where your bones collect dust. I vow all of this and more."

Bancroft snorted. "You will never get the chance to see out any of those threats. But I can't blame you for being upset with me. What father wouldn't be upset at his son's murderer?"

"And to think that you swore your innocence up and down," said Charles with a disdainful shake of the head. "I almost believed you. Before we caught your assassin, I had a tiny sliver of doubt that you might actually be innocent."

"That part I'm most curious about," interrupted Bancroft. "How you managed to catch my assassin. The sect I used was old and secretive so of all things to give me away, I doubted that would be the one."

"You forget that I have access to resources that go far beyond that of anyone else in Java," said Charles. "Your ancient sect of assassins are but one group that I keep tabs on. Once I found the lead, it was impossible not to follow it to its logical conclusion."

"No, I must say you did well," conceded Bancroft. "And those nights in Blackgate are amongst the worst of my life. And yet, I still escaped."

"How?" interrupted Charles. "Who let you out? Who else is on your payroll?"

Bancroft chuckled. "It matters not to you now." He reached out and gently slapped the Emperor across the face like one would an errant child. "What does matter is the infrastructure I put down to get to this day worked just like I always knew it would."

Charles shook with rage at the slight. His face turned red where the slap was given and his eyes flashed with death. "How long did you have these designs on my house?"

"Since the day I met you," answered Bancroft. "Once I saw how decadent and disgraceful your house really was, I knew I had to replace you. Not because of my hatred of you but because of my love of Java."

"What a patriot you really are," said Charles sarcastically. "Your love of Java led you to high treason. For a morning full of irony, this one seems to take the cake."

"When someone has a cancerous tumor, is it not the right course to cut them open to excise the tumor to save their life?" asked Bancroft without amusement. "Is the cut itself harmful? Certainly, it requires healing but the tumor is the bigger problem. In this case, I'm the surgeon and you're the tumor. And all of this will clear up as certainly as a few stitches will close any wound."

Charles laughed, a deep sound that came heavily from his chest. "I can almost see the headlines now--Admiral Bancroft, the surgeon who saved Java." Charles stopped laughing abruptly. "For someone who is so constantly worried about what the press thinks, I imagine you'll enjoy that headline when it hits."

Bancroft sneered. "I will enjoy all the coverage that my new imperial house receives. With the passing of the House of Bainbridge to the House of Bancroft, I look forward to ending this war and winning the peace that comes with it."

"The House of Bancroft," mocked Charles. "You've lost it entirely. You're a madman."

"Maybe," conceded Bancroft. "Would a madman hold true to this same plan for a number of years? Yes, he would. Would a madman plot the death of one of his innocent counterparts just to prove a point? Yes, he would."

Bancroft thought he might have to explain to Charles what he meant by that but the Emperor surprised him.

"Admiral Henrik," said the Emperor. "So it wasn't treason after all. You killed him."

"Technically,you killed him," said Bancroft. "I just handed you the knife. What you did after the fact was on your own accord."

"He was no common sailor or soldier," thundered Charles. "You betrayed a fellow officer! Another admiral!"

"I did what was necessary," countered Bancroft. "Which is the key difference between me and you. I will always do what is necessary for the good of Java. Can you say the same? You were all too willing to hand the country over to your loser son. Is that what's best for Java? You let the war languish until I took more command of it. Is that what's best for Java?"

"You sabotaged my efforts, making victory impossible," said Charles. "Only until you took over personal responsibility for it and then the war went swimmingly. But that was according to your plan, wasn't it?"

"Naturally," said Bancroft with a simple shrug. "There's not a lot that doesn't go to my plan. Occitania is ready to fall. One swift blow at Montauban and they will exit the war. The Ruthenians won't last much longer. They won't fight on their own. Once they both surrender, Java will directly annex both continents. I will be the ruler of the largest empire that history has ever known. Centuries from now, schoolchildren will be taught the name of Emperor Bancroft the Great, the conqueror of the East."

"You'll be nothing more than a usurper," spat Charles. "A footnote in the history books before my house can resume their rightful place."

"And how will that happen? With that idiot grandnephew of yours?" Bancroft laughed. "I doubt it. The history of your house ends today. The boy though, I think I'll keep him alive. He'll make an excellent page. He can fetch me water when I'm thirsty. That'll be the fate of your bloodline--servants to the new emperor."

Charles seethed. "You won't get away with this."

"But I already have," countered Bancroft as he reached for his sidearm. "And now I grow tired of this. You've served your purpose, Charles. You've been a poor emperor but now it's time for you to join your son."

"Wait!"

Charles launched across the floor to the bag of his belongings. Bancroft watched with a degree of amusement as the Emperor dug out what used to be his crown and placed it atop his head. His frightened eyes looked at Bancroft.

"You wouldn't kill a sitting emperor, Bancroft. My crown is on my head, a symbol of my position as the head of the country that you love so much. You'll stain this crown with blood if you kill me. I will let you have your freedom. Just don't kill me."

Bancroft rolled his eyes. "And I thought the Javan Emperor would have a little more strength in the moment of his death instead of grovelling like a dog. You disgust me. I'm going to have your body thrown into the nearest trash pit like the animal you are. Goodbye, Charles."

Bancroft put the pistol directly between Charles' eyes. In that moment, the Emperor's last, a solitary emotion of defiance ran across his face. "You'll pay for this, Bancroft. Maybe not today, but someday, you'll pay."

Bancroft didn't answer him. His finger squeezed the trigger. One single shot entered the forehead of Charles IX Bainbridge, Emperor of Java. Behind him, the wall of the barn splattered with blood and brains as the old man's body fell to the floor. His crown toppled off his head, landing a foot away.

"How do you like that," muttered Bancroft as he stared at the crown. It had tumbled just far enough away to escape most traces of blood. He leaned down to pick it up, using Charles' dirty clothes to wipe off two spots of blood that had stained the rim. Once it was clean, he placed it securely on his head.

Ultimate power was now his.

When he emerged outside the barn, the first person he saw was General Zander. Rightfully, the general bowed upon the sight of the crown on his head.

"The rule of Charles IX Bainbridge is over," said Bancroft ominously. "The rule of Emperor Percival I Bancroft has now begun."