The years past and Buthus eventually healed in body and mind, though he wore his hair shorn close to his skull in defiance of custom. If he did not laugh as often and spent more time alone, no one questioned it. Many men and women graced his bed, but he kept none at his side. It was whispered he still grieved for the five most loyal and could be heard crying their names in the night. The people were awed by him. That one should be so loved, and frightened by him, that one should be so powerful and never have known defeat. But none dared whisper dissension, because his knee stayed bent before the king.
It was not long before the king’s net had been thrown to nearly ensnare the world. And all this time the crystal of the moon grew in power. The king and the warrior left the city and went far across the sea to conquer.
Three years later they returned.
The people rallied and cheered every foot of the way when the duo entered the city with their entourage of soldiers, prisoners and slaves carrying the loot of many lands. But it wasn’t long before the king realized that the people shouted Buthus’s name and only his. And when they came to the temple to give thanks for their safe return, he was surprised to see it redesigned with a crystal facet draped in red silk over the door. His embarrassment and anger turned to horror. The women lining the route to the steps, dressed in red everyone, slashed their breasts and threw themselves beneath the hooves and wheels of the war-horses and chariots. He turned to his right hand and was stunned by the change in his mien. Gone was the pained gaze and grim expression. Buthus’s head was held high and a smile illuminated his features.
‘After so many years, success, success at last! The army is mine and now the land of my birth. Those seduced have done their job well, even unknowingly. Tonight I will know sacrifice and fulfillment once again!’
The people were hysterical in their joy, wild to show that they were the most worthy of Buthus’s attention. At the foot of the temple he stepped down and his soldiers gathered around to protect him from the crowds. Even they were stroked, praised and seduced by the maniacal people. Buthus spared not a glance for the overwhelmed man at this side. His eyes surveyed the crowd looking for the perfect ones.
Three women, priestess of the blood cult and two men, acolytes of the temple perhaps, were singled out for his attention. He hugged them all and sent them forth into the crowd to thank everyone for loving him though he deserved nothing.
Finally he took the king’s arm and dragged him up the steps to enter the temple. The king’s resistance amounted to little so shocked was he. Where once the temple was full of light now deep shadows marred its walls, the blood of the willing and unwilling, sacrificed so that the king’s right hand would triumph. After all had not the people seen the proof so many years ago when the warrior had saved them from demons and ravening armies?
Buthus demanded before the end of the year the king step down and allow his "son" to inherit. The king scoffed and vowed that he would see the abomination that was Buthus destroyed. He was king and the majority of his subjects would not condone such horror. He would destroy his "son". Buthus backed away as if terror-stricken. He beseeched the king to forgive him. He had not asked the people to do these things, couldn’t the king see he was innocent? Had he not been at this side in battle? How could the king think such things of him. So the argument raged before the crystal until Buthus fled bereft.
The king realized that the priestess, soldiers and citizens witnessed the last and no one heard the right hand’s earlier demands. The king commanded his soldiers to the palace and they escorted him. Once home he convinced himself of their loyalty and proceed to investigate the extent of corruption in his kingdom. Buthus returned immediately to his old house and lay inconsolable that the king would hold him responsible for the people sacrificing in his name. And the people rallied to Buthus angry that the king would treat his "son" so harshly. During the following seasons many assassination attempts were directed against the king. He surrounded himself with the old guard and those few he dared to trust. The crystal of the moon was an insidious cult. Across the land and in far flung subsidiaries of the kingdom many now followed its tenets and the king lost more ground everyday. And Buthus? He went about his duties loyal to the king in public, distraught that the people killed in his name. But, at the same time, humbled that they should love him when he was so unworthy. On the nights of the full moon sacrifices were held in all the major cities.
Then rumor whispered Buthus would soon take five for the altar.
In the middle of the hazy months, when spring began to creep back into the world, the king and four of his advisors were found dead in the audience chamber. A great state funeral was held. The governors, generals and lesser officals, even from across the sea, returned to the old city to pay homage to the dead king as commanded by his grief stricken successor. On the day of the funeral all marched in their finest raiment, except Buthus who once again slashed his body and tore his hair. He demanded that the murderers of his "father" be found and brought before him to die a horrible death. He attempted to throw himself upon the funeral pyre to the dismay of his army and new advisors. Healers came and pronounced him once again maddened with grief. It was not long before two commanders of the old king’s guard were found guilty of murder. They and three of their coconspirators were killed in the public square , death by arrows. Buthus begged the people to cease sacrificing in his name. Could they not see the pain and suffering, the guilt he endured? And yet the cult spread and in the end the new king was compelled to participate in the temple rituals in order to avoid civil unrest. When Buthus recovered his emotional stability he once again went to war. He was as ever indefatigable.
He became know far and wide as The Drinker of Blood, myth to some, terrifying reality to others.