Cipher Code {complete}

Chapter Twenty Seven: The Fight Of A Century •EDITED•

October, Year 483
Mount Roya
North

Corey threw a cautious glance at Gideon then let his eyes fall on the ice cubes melting in the glass he held. It seemed that the vice minister was serious about fighting him.

Why does he want to do this right now? Corey shifted in his chair and reached for the crystal decanter on the table between him and Gideon. He poured the whiskey into his cup and did the same for the older man.

"Let's try not to blow up the mountain before Dawn gets back and clears all this up," he suggested calmly and took a little sip.

He found himself considering rejecting Gideon's challenge but as his eyes slowly drifted to the eager men surrounding the glass dome around them, he quenched the idea. People wanted to see this happen and withdrawing now could shake up his soldiers' moral.

Damn you, Gideon. Corey's grip on his glass tightened and he fixed his burning gaze on the man. Of all times to do this, you choose now.

The vice minister said nothing, a cool smile his only reply as he sharpened the blade in his hand. The grating sound of grinding metal punctuated his silence with each firm stroke he made down the weapon with his custom, diamond-plated whetstone. Sparks flew as the metal was polished.

It was a battle axe, pristine, golden and heavy. Corey was sure that it was the Westley family's heirloom, and the whetstone would cost a middle class family their entire fortune.

Letting out a sigh Corey reclined in his seat and tipped all the content in his glass into his mouth. "Wonderful, Gideon. You want to fight?"

He shrugged off his outer coat then poured himself more whiskey. "Haven't we done enough fighting over the years?"

"I suggest a peaceful resolution." Kathryn added and Corey nodded in agreement.

"See," he sipped on his alcohol then rolled the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt to his elbows, "even the computer agrees with me."

"I am not a fan of technology," the older man answered roughly and held his weapon up into the light. "I'm not a fan of you either."

"True," the minister murmured and finished off his drink. He reached for the other untouched cup and tossing it's contents into his mouth, "let's get this over with."

"Gladly, Roya. Gladly." Gideon stood up and walked to the other end of the room, his footsteps falling into a subtle rhythm with each stride.

When he reached the far end of the arena, he turned back to Corey. "I never pictured you as an alcoholic."

Corey tried to laugh but failed miserably. The result was an ugly cough that made him wince.

"Me and my secrets." He tilted his head to the side and watched the crowd stir up into a frenzy.

Maybe this is a good thing. He thought and stood up. He left his royal blue coat draped over his chair and he walked until he and Gideon were an equal distance away from the table.

"I'm ready."

Once he finished his sentence, the table vanished and in it's place stood a woman. Dressed head to toe in northern colors-blue, red and white-she raised her right hand over her heart and made a fist with her other hand, her left fist over the palm covering her heart-the sign of absolute loyalty to the North.