Epilogue
No story ever truly has an end. And neither do schemes.
Defeat was only a setback. A lesson learned. And by the saints, he had learned. Learned exactly what he needed to do. Where to go from here.
This time, there would be no mistakes. No failed missions. He liked to consider himself something of a ruler himself. A master of fates. Like a god.
Robert the Bruce and his Guardians of the Highlands would be put down. They’d pick them off one by one. But this time, they’d do it differently. Starting with the one they call the Red Blade.
What kind of a name was that anyway? He’d kill him, make the Red Blade’s steel run crimson from his own blood.
While the Wolf of Skye was occupied in the throes of marital bliss and the success of a battle won, the tightly knit secret pact would move forward with his friends.
Not even the Black Stag, another stupid name, would be able to come to Red Blade’s aid in time.
The pact would not stop until all of Robert the Bruce’s allies were in a shallow grave with the rest of their Scottish brethren.
He did not align with their savage ways. The heathens. Nay, he wanted more from life. He wanted what King Edward had promised him. And if he had to trample his own blood to get there, he would.
Word was already spreading that soon William Wallace would be giving up his position as a Guardian of Scotland.
The fool. All of them fools. Once the mighty Wallace was out of the way, it was only a matter of time before they all fell.
Robert the Bruce thought himself clever, thought himself worthy.
But what that arrogant prick failed to realize was that it was Wallace himself who made him into anything at all.
The man huffed a laugh as he put a drop of wax for the seal on the missive he’d been penning. The final nail in the proverbial coffin of Wallace’s leadership. A wide smile spread across his face as he stroked the ring on his finger, then pressed his ring into the seal.
Aye, there never truly was an end to any story, and he eagerly awaited what was to come next as he plucked the strings of his puppets to hand him gold and treasures and moved their lips to whisper the words he wanted to hear most. Ye win.