The Present

Edmund’s gaze slowly flickered up the frame of the young man before him. “So...you’re the infamous Rosen Slaughter?” 

“Not what you expected, Major General?” Wiley questioned with a smirk. He leaned against the pitch black stone of the wall, spinning a dagger between his slender fingers. The torches lining the room sent shadows flickering across the sharp lines of his face, his eyes completely submerged in the darkness. 

“Someone just barely a man and skinny enough to break like a stick?” Edmund replied. “No.” 

“Well, you know what they say,” Wiley chuckled, the sound echoing off the walls. “Most people who see me never live to tell the tale.”

He took a step closer, causing the swarm of Edmund’s men surrounding him to instantly tense. Their hands anxiously drifted towards their weapons but Edmund shook his head, raising a hand to stop them. 

“Is that so?” Edmund mused, arching a brow. “I always assumed those gruesome rumors about you were just old wives tales.”

“Rumors have to start somewhere,” Wiley replied, giving the blade between his fingers another spin as he switched hands. “Although, if they want to spread stories of my villainy, I just wish they wouldn’t add so much embellishment.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “It makes it pretty difficult to live up to everyone’s expectations.”

“I see,” Edmund noted with a nod. “I never realized having such a legendarily heinous reputation could be such a burden.”

“Right?” Wiley agreed, tossing his dagger into the air and easily catching it with his other hand. “I really want to punch whoever came up with the name Rosen Slaughter. It’s waaaay too dramatic. Though...I suppose I can understand why people use it.” He grinned. “The name Wiley doesn’t exactly strike fear into the hearts of the people, y’know? Can you imagine discovering a heap of bodies and crying out ‘who did this’ only for someone to just reply with ‘Wiley’. Would that be anti-climatic or what?” Wiley let out a loud cackle of laughter just thinking about it. 

Upon hearing him laughing madly to himself, Edmund’s men exchanged a series of nervous glances. Wiley simply smirked at them, not feeling embarrassed in the slightest. It was rather hard to feel shame when he knew they wouldn’t be breathing in only a matter of minutes. The thought reminded him that he needed to stop chatting and get back to the actual task at hand. 

Wiley grinned, making his way towards the large wooden table separating him and Edmund. As he moved, his horned shadow began to rise behind him, growing larger and larger until it had swallowed up nearly the entire wall. “Alright then, let's talk business.” 

“Yes, let’s,” Edmund agreed with a nod, his lips curling upward. “I was supposed to be meeting with His Majesty. Since you’re here in his stead however, I figure there must have been a slight change of plans.” 

“Correct,” Wiley replied, his eyes narrowing playfully. “You see, I’m the one His Majesty calls when there are...discrepancies.” 

“Discrepancies?” Edmund repeated, appearing surprisingly calm. 

“Yes,” Wiley said, his gaze seering into him. “His Majesty put a lot of faith into you when he made you Major General...so surely you can understand how disappointed he was to discover you were making secret trips over enemy lines.” He twirled the dagger in his hand once more, letting the blade land directly pointed at Edmund. “Especially when the Blessed somehow learned of our upcoming attacks and easily intercepted them.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “Let me guess. You think that just because you’re a half-blood, as long you defect the Blessed will ignore your tainted blood and welcome you with open arms? Right?”  

“Correct,” Edmund replied.

“Well then, I’m afraid it falls to me to deliver a seriously needed wakeup call.” A smile remained on Wiley’s face despite the fact that his gaze had gone ice cold. “They don’t want you. They may treat you kindly, they may pretend to care, they may promise to protect you— but it's only because you’re useful to them. When they can’t exploit you anymore you’ll learn the truth.” His lip curled. “They never, and I mean never, forget our blood.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Edmund shot back, his eyes narrowing. “They’re about to become quite indebted to me.”

“Oh?” Wiley arched a brow. “Are they really?”

“Of course,” Edmund replied with a smirk. “I’m about to bring them the head of the Rosen Slaughter after all.”

As he spoke, his men began to unsheath their weapons, dark spiritual energy rising up from them like smoke. 

“Ah, I see,” Wiley observed, crossing his arms. “I thought it was rather odd you agreed to meet with His Majesty despite him obviously being onto you.”

Edmund nodded. “The Blessed want you dead more than anything. Unfortunately, it’s nearly impossible to hunt down the infamous Rosen Slaughter. This meeting was the only way.” He let out a low chuckle. “All I had to do was secretly arm my men with spiritual weapons and I knew we could finally take you d--”

“BAHAHAHAHA!” Wiley’s wild bout of laughter caused Edmund’s words to instantly die at his lips. It echoed through the air, filling the room as he laughed so hard tears began to brim in the corners of his eyes. Edmund and his men remained frozen in confusion, staring at him like he was some sort of madman.

At last, Wiley managed to collect himself, wiping his eyes with one hand before saying, “You have got to be the dumbest motherfucker I’ve ever met.”

Edmund stiffened, bristling at the statement. 

“Seriously, how did you not realize just how stupid your plan was?” Wiley continued, still giggling. “Spiritual weapons or not, you think His Majesty would send me in alone if any of you morons actually stood a chance against me?” He leapt onto the table, his foot slamming down hard on Edmund’s hand. The Major General gasped at the pain, desperately attempting to rip his hand free to no avail. 

Wiley flashed him an icy smile. “All you fuckers are beneath me. Dealing with you is the same to me as squishing ants.” As the words left his lips, he grinded his heel down hard against Edmund’s hand. “I won’t even remember your faces after I kill you. But my face...” He crouched down on the table and leaned in close, bringing his face only a breath away from Edmund’s. “Mine will be burned into your mind as the last thing you ever saw.” 

“You arrogant little shit!” Edmund growled. 

Wiley just shrugged. He offered him a patronizing glance, casually lifting his boot to release the Major General’s hand. Frantically, Edmund yanked it free, his gaze wild in the flickering torch light. He didn’t waste a second before he lunged at Wiley, his men rushing the Rosen Slaughter from all sides. 

“Let’s see who’s laughing when I bring your head back on a spike!” Edmund roared, his face as red as the swollen imprint of Wiley’s heel across his knuckles. 

A grin pulled at Wiley’s lips, his eyes glowing like burning embers as his attackers closed in around him. “Well,” he said with a laugh, throwing out his hands. “This should be fun.”