mindcracklove | Trouble Seems to Follow Chapter 6

AN: Whew, almost didn't finish this today! But this chapter was so much fun to write, I just had to finish it! Heads up for a lot of gore, and while it might look like there are some nsfw bits around the end, there actually isn't, it's only a double entendre.
Vechs climbed out of bed, smiling ear to ear. He dressed himself, almost relishing in the pain of his shoulder. Dinnerbone entered the room as Vechs finished buttoning up a pair of leather pants. “Breakfast for you, sir- oh! I didn’t think you’d be well enough to get up today.”
“Breakfast won’t be necessary today, squire.” Vechs replied, walking past Dinnerbone. “I have plans for today.” The dark and callous tone of his voice confused Dinnerbone.
“S-Sir? Are you feeling alright?” Dinnerbone asked, placing the tray of food on the wardrobe before approaching Vechs.
“I’d feel much better if you’d go and gather up some of the peasants in the local village. Perhaps twenty or so. Bring them into the training room, bound at the wrists and ankles. That would truly make my day.” Vechs answered before sweeping out the door.
“I’m sorry sir, but…bound at the wrists and ankles?” Dinnerbone ventured, now more confused than before.
“Yes, precisely. I would prefer if they were not gagged or blindfolded. Go on, shoo, get me my peasants.”
Dinnerbone cringed away at Vechs’s harsh tone, still confused but doing as he was told. “Yes, sir, o-of course.”
Vechs walked away, grinning to himself. Oh, he had plans. He planned to have quite a lot of fun today. His head was pounding, eyes threatening to bounce out of his skull. All part of the fun. This was going to hurt a lot tomorrow, but for today, fun fun fun.
He walked into the training room, heels clicking on the stone floor. The room was completely empty, save of course for the racks of training equipment and archery targets lining the walls. Vechs waltzed over to the racks of swords, the real ones used in training by higher-ranking officers and in case of emergencies. This one looks sharp enough, this one’s a tad worn, oh now this one is a gem. He picked over the weapons, selecting the ones in the best condition.
“Sir?” Dinnerbone’s voice echoed in the large room. “Your, um, villagers are here.”
“Wonderful, bring them in.” Vechs responded, grinning from ear to ear. The villagers were led in, chained at the wrists and ankles as per the king’s request. Vechs approached them, dictating that they stand in a circle around him. “Now, squire, bind them down, make certain that they can’t escape.” A low rumbling laugh began to grow from his throat, burbling out in lashing strides. Now fearing for his king’s sanity and his own life, Dinnerbone complied. “Good, good. Now, go on, get out of here, squire.”
Now alone in the room with the villagers, Vechs drew the sharpest sword he could find. “I’m certain you’ve guessed why I’ve had you all gather here today. If you haven’t, you’d best figure it out now.” His smile split his face in half, teeth glittering white in the candlelight. Approaching one of the villagers, he raised the sword. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you? You’re going to ask me what you did wrong, how did you deserve this, and other things of that nature, correct?” He laughed again, pushing the villager to the floor with the heel of his boot. He leaned down to the villagers face. “I suppose the heart wants what it wants,” he placed the tip of the sword against the villager’s sternum, “an unending supply of blood.” Vechs hit the handle of the blade with his knee, ramming the sword through the villager’s chest and up out of the top of the head. Blood splattered everywhere, staining Vechs’s clothes. He turned to the others, grabbing a new sword. In one swipe, he beheaded one and disemboweled another, leaving the blade to rest in the leg of a third. Laughter shook the room, echoes distorting them into the sounds of demons and ghouls. Taking another blade, Vechs cleaved the villager with the wounded leg perfectly in half from head to toe. The others were struggling now, trying in vain to break the iron chains binding them to the floor. Screams of panic mingled with the screams of pain and the laughter of the mad king. Another swing, two more heads roll free on the floor. Blood and intestines pooled on the floor, painting the stone red. The blood on Vechs’s face made him no less terrifying. He continued to destroy the villagers, sometimes mutilating their corpses in passing.
Shortly, there were no villagers left standing. Vechs stood triumphant over the carnage, still laughing although his throat was intensely hoarse. He swayed, stumbled, and nearly fell into the pool of blood. The pounding in his head stopped as he came back into himself. “What…” Vechs looked around in a daze, unable to remember anything after blacking out in his bedchamber. “What happened?” He swayed again, unable to figure out why his throat was so sore. He heard some splashing behind him, then a pair of arms around his shoulders just before he finally lost his balance. “Dinnerbone? What…” The realization flooded into his mind, the memory vibrant. “What did I just do?”

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Zisteau awoke that morning in a spare bedchamber within Anders castle. He propped himself up on his arms, chuckling to himself. A knock came on the door, after a consenting command from Zisteau, Anders entered. “We certainly have a lot of work ahead of us today, Sir Zisteau. Oh, you’re not out of bed yet.”
“No, I was just having some fun on my own before getting out of bed.” The way Zisteau phrased that statement, along with the fact the porcine king slept nude, caused Anders to blush bright red. “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to have a bit of privacy for getting dressed for the day.”
“Of course, of course.” Anders stepped out of the room, closing the door. “There’s breakfast in the main hall, I’ll have the servants keep it warm for you.”
Zisteau laughed to himself again. Perhaps he had more than one king under his control.