The Golden King

Iago looked down from his golden throne. The height of Dragonsheart palace gave him a fine view. All the way to the border.
He heard the great double doors open with an easy swing. “Afternoon, Eptol.” Eptol was the only other person allowed free reign to enter his throne room, and one of few strong enough to open its heavy golden doors alone. He rose as the samurai's footsteps approached from behind. Contrary to common sense, his throne looked out over the balcony, rather than facing the door. He knew his enemy's sense of pragmatics, and most importantly her ability to fly. He feared those who entered by the balcony far more.
“You may go.” Iago told his various handmaidens, “How can I help you, my man?” Iago's smile fell as he met Eptol's cold gaze.
“What's this I've heard about monster prisoners?” His voice remained level.
Iago sighed. “Come, we can talk on the balcony. It's a nice evening.” He reached up to put an arm around Eptol's shoulders.
“You're a good man, Eptol.” Iago leant by his elbows on the balcony rail, “That's why I don't expect you to understand. In war, you can't pull punches. You can't show mercy. You don't just have to be ready to kill your enemy. You have to be ready to hurt them.” He dared look over his shoulder to Eptol's face, but not long enough to take in its stony expression. He was afraid of what was behind the stone.
“Iago, they are innocent children.”
“You sound like her sometimes.” He said, almost to himself, “Look, Eptol, how many times have we encountered their ilk and not killed them? They're bad to the bone, my friend. They're programmed to grow up evil. Lady Val'Rance is fooling herself with her little school. They're naturally evil.”
“Have you forgotten that we've fought alongside them? Dovos? Sarinak?”
“Too stupid to be evil and a fool following a leader.” He dared himself to turn around, and somehow found himself able to lean nonchalantly on the rail, “You know I'm right. Their kind are naturally evil.”
“The swamp tribes are peaceful.” Eptol thumped a fist into the railing.
“Still... if not evil, then lesser.” He looked at Eptol's fist, “And they were peaceful. Not are.”
“This is slaughter.”
“It's a message. A message to the rat-” He stroked his own whisker without noticing, “that she is wrong and I am right. She'll give in. She's soft. Trust me, in the long-run, I'm saving bloodshed.”
“The blood of innocents weighs thrice the blood of soldiers, and its stains run deeper.”
Iago looked him in the eye sardonically, “Very philosoph-” Eptol gave him a quick, sharp lesson on the necessity for the free passage of air through the throat for speech. After a second, he loosened his grip and threw the Golden King to the floor.
“They are children. Call off the execution.”
“And show weakness to Val'Rance?”
“Show humanity to me.”
“It's war, Eptol.” Iago hauled himself to his feet by the railings, “You don't understand.”
A metallic swish cut through the air. Eptol's katana buried several inches in the wood of the railing beside Iago's ear, halting him as he rose. The golden insignia on its pommel shone in the moonlight, and the elvish writing inlaid on the blade was half-visible. Iago could just read "life for the Golden King", the first half hidden by the wood.
Eptols voice flew down in icy tones, “Because you are my friend, I will not kill you today. On my way to the border I will rescue the children and slay any of your men who stand in my way. If you surrender tomorrow, I will assure Resmi spares you. If you let this madness continue, I can make no promises as to what I will do.”
“B-b-but you're my best friend. We're buddies! Pals! Amigos! You can't just run out on me for that... that rat! She doesn't see the bigger picture!”
Eptol began walking away. “Sorry, Iago. In war, you can't pull punches.”
The Golden King, shivering on his balcony floor, heard his golden doors swing shut.