If I was nice I wouldn't be a villan

At first Xanthus was not sure what woke him, but it angered him. Who dared to make enough noise to wake him from his sleep?! He sat up wondering what had woken him but soon discovered it. Screaming. It seemed to come from within the walls of his bedchamber and it shook the room with the pain and terror of the person it belonged to.

He closed his eyes and processed his memories. Which of the villagers were in his dungeons? There was the young herbalist who had been gossiping about him in a tea shop, saying that he would be passing laws that would further increase his army’s power. It was true, of course, but she was being charged with slander regardless. Worrying villagers like that could cause a revolt. Her health was failing after two long months in the dungeon, however, and he doubted she had the energy to scream.

There was also the shepherd, the one who had refused to bow as he passed. The foolish old man! Refusing to bow meant he would hang. He had given him chances, going out of his way to influence him. Xanthus had killed his sheep one by one, destroying his livelihood. He could still remember how the blood contrasted with the pure white wool. The man still did not bow. He now had no choice. Xanthus had taken the man to the dungeon to stay before he faced the hangman’s noose. It was scheduled for; he quickly calculated it in his head, two days from now. But he soon realized the man couldn’t be the cause of the racket, though he would have enjoyed an excuse to further torture him. The shepherd was a deaf mute.

The Emperor sighed as the scream once again reverberated through the castle. He feared he would never remember, as his memory was beginning to fail him. At his age it was understandable, and further more how was he, the all-important Emperor, supposed to remember every person in the dungeons? He gently put his hand into the box beside his bed and was soothed by twinkling noise the gold coins made.

That was it! The boy! The son of the man and woman who had refused to pay their taxes. The look of pure anguish on their faces as their teenage son was taken away crying was unforgettable. It must have been faked, their loving the boy that much. Xanthus had done everything imaginable for one to do in life, so for him not to feel it? It was impossible.

Glad to have discovered the source of the noise Emperor Xanthus settled back down into his plush, four-poster bed and let the boy's screams lull him back to sleep.