Zero

“The barricades have fallen.”
Those words were like four individual blows. Winded, the elderly man sat down and stared at the younger man before him. This man had grey hair that was unkempt and knotted, and his long beard was uncombed and dull. His robes were rumpled, and the fiery red colour had long since faded with dirt and grime, as well as the gold trimming. While he was obviously a man of importance, at that moment he seemed vulnerable and defeated. His eyes were shadowed with too many bad memories and his mouth was set in a grim line.
“Have the messengers been sent to Myssonia and Lebec?”
He received an affirmative nod and his shoulders lowered in relief, although his weathered face was still tight with worry.
“Then it is done,” said the elderly man, pushing the words out of his mouth.
“Your majesty?”
A resigned smile stretched across the man’s face. “You and I both know that it is over. There is no use in pretending.”
The younger man shifted uncomfortably in position. His sword arm hung limply by his side and the blade tip touched the stone floor. Dried blood caked the metal and most of the man. “But... there is still time, your majesty. You must escape,” he began.
The Emperor put up a hand. “There is no time. Besides, a captain must go down with his ship. If the palace no longer stands, then nor shall I.”
The guard looked forlorn, and his voice was strangled when he spoke. “Please, there is a passage down the hall. You could still make it...”
“No,” the Emperor said with a shake of his head. “I thought we could defeat them. I was wrong. Now I must face the consequences of mine and my predecessors’ actions.”
The guard bowed his head, understanding dawning on him; however it would be hours before the sun would rise. By then, they would be gone. “What shall I tell the others?”
“Tell them to be brave, to fight with honour,” the Emperor said, drawing his bejewelled sword. “For I will be fighting with them.”
The guard nodded, put his fist to his heart, as was the custom, and vacated the Emperor’s chambers. The elderly man listened to the man’s pounding footsteps as they faded into silence. He slowly walked towards the window where the battle raged below. It would be his last battle, but it was only right that he should die alongside his men. He could see the overpowering numbers of the opposing force, clad in obsidian armour, while his own men wearing the golden plate were few and far between.
Then the Emperor stepped back, and he gripped his sword tightly. He murmured a prayer to the Gods.
Save my kingdom. I beg of you.
Then all hell broke lose.