Rising up from a Nobleman to Intergalactic Warlord!!

---3^rd Person POV---

Silently moving through the shadows, four of the Principalities’ best spies made their way to Marquess Frampton’s residence. Having made no prior arrangements with him, as Viscount Stark’s forces had killed every messenger they sent, they hoped the marquess was home and not away on business. He was their only way out of the capital now, so they had their fingers crossed that they were lucky tonight.

“It appears we timed our arrival perfectly, commander. These idiots left themselves wide open!”, one of the agents cackled, in a soft voice.

“Silence, you idiot.”, the commander scolded him, “We do not yet know how Viscount Stark has been able to track our movements. He could very well know we are here already! I do not need you jinxing my operation!”

“Sir, calm down. We have not left any traces of ourselves for the viscount’s men to follow us.”, his second in command commented, as they entered the Noble District, “I do not understand why you are so paranoid about him. While I acknowledge his technology and weaponry are superior to ours, he is not infallible. At the end of the day, he and his men are human too.”

Shaking his head in anger, he hated the fact his superiors had forbidden him from telling his subordinates the truth. As one of the few surviving veterans of their organization, the commander knew that roughly ninety-eight percent of their organization was made up of agents with less than a year of experience now. They had suffered terrible losses over the past few years at the hands of the viscount’s own spies. Things had gotten so bad that they had to lower the requirements to join the organization just to keep up with the number of bodies they were losing.

“Sir, there is the marquess’ home.”, the second in command stated, snapping the commander back to reality, “I see lights on inside, it appears he is home!”

“Good, circle around back and scale the wall. I have the key to the back door.”, the commander ordered.

Following his lead, the men quickly went around back and climbed over the garden wall. Silently moving through the yard, when they approached the servant’s entrance, the commander unlocked the door and hurried his men inside. Glancing behind them to ensure no one saw them, he slipped inside and shut the door behind him.

Walking in on Frampton’s servants cleaning up for the day, when the staff saw them, they immediately stopped what they were doing and made themselves scarce. Walking up to the men, Frampton’s head butler bowed his head and asked how he could be of assistance.

“We need to speak with Malcolm, where is he?”, the commander asked.

“Lord Malcolm is in his study.”, the head butler replied, quickly stepping out of their way, “My apologies, had we known you were coming, we could have provided you with food and beverages.”

“It is fine, we have been unable to reach the marquess due to the viscount’s interference.”, the commander said, “Come on boys, let us keep moving.”

Promptly leaving the room, the four agents made their way upstairs. Leading them straight to the study, as he had been there before, the commander stopped outside the door and used the standard knock code. Hearing someone begin walking around inside, a few moments later, Marquess Frampton opened the door for them with an irritated look. Motioning for them to enter, he walked over to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink.

“What are you doing here? We have an arrangement, you are supposed to notify me before you show up.”, Malcolm spat, taking a sip of whiskey, “None of my guards are on patrol tonight. If you had been caught, we all would have been screwed!”

“Relax, old man, we were extra careful and would not make such a rookie mistake. We are the best of the best in our organization!”, one of the agents boasted.

Shooting his men a glare, the commander wanted them to shut up and let him do the talking. Getting the hint, his subordinates sighed all began wandering around the room.

“What my subordinate meant to say was, we have had issues getting messages in and out of the Kingdom. The viscount’s men are eerily efficient when it comes to finding and eliminating our messengers.”, the commander explained, “My superiors apologize for the unannounced visit, but this was our only option.”

“Your messengers could have used the same route you used to get here!”, Malcolm countered, “Do not give me your bullshit excuses!”

Taking another sip of whiskey, the marquess calmed himself as it was too late to change anything now.

“What brings you here tonight?”, Malcolm asked.

“We have two critical messages for you from both the Royal Family and the Radical Faction.”, the commander said, turning to his team, “Give him the letters.”

Nodding his head, the agent carrying the messages quickly ran over to them and produced the letters from his bag. Taking the letters from him, Malcolm walked over to his desk and lit his lamp. Putting his reading glasses on so he could make sense of what was written, he took a few minutes to read and process what they wanted.

“Maybe you four can make sense of what they are wanting me to do here.”, Malcolm groaned, “The Royal Family wants me to suggest marrying Viscount Stark to one of their daughters to end hostilities between our nations. On the other hand, the Radical Faction wants me to somehow loosen security along the southern border so they can invade the Kingdom. These two requests contradict one another, which am I supposed to execute?”

Looking at each other, the four agents were just as confused too. The Royal Family wanted peace, but the Radical Faction wanted to invade the Kingdom. Doing one would prevent the other from happening which made absolutely no sense. Wondering what their superiors were thinking, the commander began to feel that this was a waste of time.

“Which order do you think would be the easiest to execute?”, the commander asked.

“If I am being honest, neither of them is possible I am afraid. The Viscount holds tremendous sway among our citizens and nobility. If he says no, no one is going to support my argument that it is for the betterment of our country.”, Malcolm stated, “As far as the southern border is concerned, the Crown has given him unilateral control of the area. He maintains an ironclad grip on it, and no noble along the border would ever agree to take that duty from him. Since he took complete control a few months ago, there have been no incursions from your country or pirates.”

“If we need to force him into complying, what if we kidnap one of his family members or mistresses? I believe I read he has two of them, capturing them should be easy as- “, the second in command began to say.

Shooting up from his seat, Malcolm immediately called the agent a suicidal maniac. Recalling what happened last time someone touched one of Victor’s women, the marquess recalled the bloodbath Victor unleashed on those responsible. Knowing very well that he had grown even more dangerous over the years, there was no way he would let them drag him into such a dangerous situation.

“Did your moronic superiors not explain anything to you?! Touching his mistresses is like double crossing the devil himself!”, Malcolm said, as the color drained from his face, “He is the type of man that does not care about social standing or the hierarchy. If you get in his way or harm his lovers, he will ceaselessly pursue you till you are nothing more than a smear on the ground. That man mutilated his eldest brother, stepmother, and her servant for doing exactly what you are suggesting.”

Having heard nothing about that, the three agents looked to their commander for confirmation. Nodding his head in acknowledgement, the commander informed them that their superiors had a gag order on sharing much of the viscount exploits. Wanting to know more about what they were not being told, the sound of marching feet began to echo through the streets. Turning their attention toward the window, they began to see torchlight flickering off homes down the road.

Walking over to take a closer look, Malcolm seized up when he saw a large contingent of guards marching toward his home. Seeing the crests of the Atlee, Redgrave, Roseblade, and Royal Family mixed into the group, he immediately knew they were exposed. Quickly leaving the window, Malcolm ran to his weapon cabinet to retrieve his equipment.

“You blasted idiots led them right to us! Clearly you buffoons cannot do anything right!”, Malcolm seethed.

“Led who here?”, the commander asked, running to the window to see for himself.

Rushing into the room with a panicked expression, the head butler informed them additional men were surrounding the back of the home. Cursing his damn luck, Malcolm wished they had never come to his home as he was too old to deal with shit like this.

“Malcolm, you traitorous bastard!! How dare you work with those Fanoss pigs!!”, Earl Roseblade howled, gripping his saber with white knuckles, “I always felt something was off about you, but I never had proof. You are responsible for the deaths of my brothers and uncles! I will make you pay tenfold for nearly wiping out my household!”

“Charles, tell the servants to arm themselves and prepare to help us fight our way out.”, Malcolm commanded his butler, “We will have to take the escape ship I have hidden outside the capital.”

“I understand, sir!”, his butler acknowledged, running back downstairs to prepare for a fight.

Throwing his robe to the ground, Malcolm hurriedly got his armor on and affixed his family sword and favorite pistol to his hips. As he began to tighten the straps down, the group heard the fighting begin downstairs. Hearing the dying screams of his staff below, they had only a few minutes at best to escape before they were through. Telling the men to follow him, Malcolm ran down the stairs and saw the guards begin to break through the makeshift defensive line. Cut off from his hidden escape route in the garden, their only option was to slip around the sea of enemies.

Rushing toward the nearest window, the five of them jumped out one after the other with their weapons drawn. Rolling across the grass, they were about to take off running when they came face to face with the Earl Roseblade and a contingent of Royal Guards. Pointing their rifles at the enemy, the Royal Guard awaited the earl’s command.

“I cannot fathom why you turned your back on our country, Malcolm. Do you realize the damage you have caused?!”, the Earl snapped.

“I doubt a patriotic fool like you would understand, but I did it to further my own political career. Joining hands with the Principality was mutually beneficial for both sides. They took care of any potential political rivals I had and provided me with dozens of their tactical plans that made me appear to be a brilliant tactician. In exchange, I sent wave after wave of disposable soldiers their way to sate the Radical Factions need for retribution and help sow hatred for our country among their citizens.”, Malcolm said, with a smirk, “Had I not been stripped of my position, I would have had them finish the job I had them start.”

Hearing that Malcolm had intended to kill his wife and daughters, the earl lost himself in a fit of rage. Lunging at him like a bloodthirsty tiger, he unleashed a torrent of devastating sword blows on Malcolm. Doing his best to parry the blows while looking for an opportunity to counterattack, he quickly began to run out of strength as he had let himself go after being forced into retirement. Knowing his body was not going to hold out long, Malcolm shouted at the men to help him.

“Are you waiting on an invitation?! Help me damn it!”, Malcolm spat, “If I die here, your chances of getting out of the capital alive are zero!”

Unwilling to die here, the four men charged forward to join the fight. Giving the order to kill them, the Royal Guard opened fire on the four of them. As the bullets began reaching their targets, a barrier that covered the men vaporized the bullets on contact. Laughing at the Royal Guards, the three new agents felt invincible with the new equipment they had received at the start of the mission.

“You idiots, your stupid weapons will not hurt us! We have the power of Lost Items on our- “, the second in command began to say, as a plasma bullet shattered his shield and melted his body into a green goo.

Coming to a screeching halt, the three remaining men pressed their backs together and began looking around for the source of the shot. As they were scanning the area, a hailstorm of plasma bullets suddenly appeared out of thin air. Jumping out of the way, only the commander managed to dodge the attack. Turning back to see his men melt into goo, he was about to utter a series of curse words when an orichalcum blade ran pierced through his chest.

Coughing up a mouthful of blood, he looked over his shoulder for the one who attacked him. Not seeing anyone there, his eyes went wide with terror.

“Viscount Stark sends his regards.”, a voice said, as they ripped the blade back out and slit the commander’s throat open.

Collapsing to the ground, he continued to stare at where he thought his assailant was. Watching a person suddenly appear out of nowhere, his eyes bulged in disbelief. Sensing no magic being used, the only explanation was that they possessed a powerful Lost Item.

‘The Principality…it is doomed…’, he thought, with his last moments of life.

Unable to hold out any longer, Malcolm’s grip on his blade slipped allowing the earl to disarm him. Falling flat on his ass, the marquess began scooting away from him. Raising his blade to decapitate him, the old man drew his pistol and pointed it at the earl.

“I am not dying here, not like this!!”, he shouted.

Going to pull the trigger, his forearm suddenly fell off without warning. Screaming in pain, as he clutched his arm, the earl silenced him permanently by removing his head.

“Are you alright?!”, Duke Redgrave called out, rushing out of the home.

“I am fine…I forgot he had a pistol…”, Earl Roseblade admitted, having been blinded by rage, “Victor, is that you?”

Turning to the individual in the unfamiliar suit, the person shook their head and removed their helmet. Giving the two men a friendly smile, the Strike Team Commander informed them that Victor had sent them over to provide extra support.

“The Viscount wanted us to contain the fighting to just this property. He did not want innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire.”, he explained.

“How many of you are here?”, Duke Redgrave asked, glancing around.

“Thirty of us.”, he replied, as his troops revealed themselves to the nobleman.

Discovering that they had surrounded them without realizing it, both were grateful they were on the same side. Entering the conversation, Prime Minister Atlee stepped outside with a box of documents he found upstairs.

“Please pass along our gratitude to Victor.”, Prime Minister Atlee said.

“I will do that, sir. That said, I believe the duke and you will be calling him son in law soon enough.”, he replied, with a mischievous smile, “Good evening, gentlemen.”

Putting his helmet back on, the Strike Team disappeared again leaving them standing there processing what they just heard.