Speaker 1: The Scum Kings, a Broadsword Studio production created and written
by Mike Daltrey. Episode forty two, The Point of No Return.
I returned to our squalid room, the smell of Silas's
ambition and rage still clinging to me. My crew was waiting,
their faces a mixture of fear and anticipation. They looked
to me for answers, for a path. I gave them
the intel. I told them of Silas's plan, a full
scale assault on the Red Hands compound, with us as
the vanguard, the sacrificial tip of the spear.
Speaker 2: When I was done, the room was silent. It was
Orso who finally spoke. He knelt on the floor once again,
laying out his crude map of the gutters. He has
given us a choice, Orso said, placing a dark stone
on Silas's headquarters and a pile of twigs on the
Red Hands's territory. He looked up at me, his eyes
sharp and clear. Path one. We do as we're told.
We lead the charge. We bleed for Silas, We kill
his enemies for him. We prove ourselves to be his
most effective loyal dogs. We survive, we eat, we collect
our share, and we remain on his leash until the
day he decides to shorten it. He paused, letting the
grim reality of that path settle over us. Then his
hand moved across the map path too, he said, his
voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. He is sending
his entire force. He swept the dark stones towards the
twigs to attack them here, which means for a short
window he will be here. He tapped Silas's own headquarters
with only his personal guard. The city will be a
storm of chaos and fire. In a storm, no one
notices a single drop of rain. We use the attack
on the red hands as the ultimate diversion. He looked
at me. We strike at the head of the snake.
The two options lay before us, a long life on
our knees, or one night with a chance to stand
on a throne. Or So laid out the risk with
his usual brutal honesty. If we choose path too, and
we fail, Corvin will make an art form of our suffering.
There will be no quick death. My mind was a storm.
Orso's logic was a razor's edge between a kingdom and
a screaming, endless death. But I was tired of surviving.
I was tired of eating another man's scraps, of taking
another man's orders, of the shame of the beatdown, and
the weight of the leash. We came to this city
to get rich, not to be servants, I said, voice
quiet but hard as steel. My gut level decision was made.
We go for broke. I looked at my crew, my kings,
challenging them to disagree. Stigand was the first to speak.
A slow, savage grin spread across his face, the first
real smile I'd seen on him in days to hell
with silas, he boomed, I would rather die fighting a
king than live my life serving one.
Speaker 1: I'm in.
Speaker 2: The risk is substantial, Selaine said, her voice, a cool,
calm calculation. But if we succeed, the entire treasury is ours.
The potential return on investment is absolute.
Speaker 1: I'm in.
Speaker 2: Geks just giggled, a high, unhinged sound of pure joy.
Two kings in one night. It's a festival. Oh, this
is going to be so much fun. Brinn gave me
a single sharp nod, her loyal the absolute Cobb and Rat,
terrified but seeing no other path, nodded as well. We
were united. The rest of the hour was a tense
final planning session. We used the details I had gathered
to pinpoint the exact moment Silas would be most vulnerable,
the precise path we would take through the chaos of
the citywide battle. The die was cast. There was no
turning back. The plan was set. I looked at the
seven faces in the dim light of our squalid room.
My killers, my strategists, my monsters, my kings. We were
bound together in this single insane purpose. Tonight, I said
my voice, low and steady, we kill a king
Speaker 1: Des