Leif exhaled slowly as he gripped the hilt of his greatsword. Across from him, Grandmaster Vharran rolled his shoulders. His Titanblooded heritage was clear in his movements, his skin bulging and gleaming which hinted at its unnatural resistance. Grandmaster Althea was beside him with her daggers resting in her hands. She was poised to attack but did not move. Her Paleking Bloodline amplified her presence making the atmosphere unnerving.
Vharran moved first.
He swept his greatsword sideways. Leif twisted to the side to dodge the impact before stepping forward immediately after the blade passed him. He retaliated with his own swing, but Vharran had brought his blade around and caught his. However, his stance faltered, and his eyes flickered as Leif grinned.
The Hollow Crown allowed him to imbue his strikes with stored kinetic force, making him an offensive powerhouse.
Leif sent kinetic force rippling through his strike, the detonation erupted at the clash point and sent Vharran staggering backwards. Leif went to press his advantage, but Althea was already in motion.
She was a blur. Her daggers flashed, he barely managed to catch one, but the second caught his shoulder. He swung at her but she danced back.
Vharran had rebounded and launched back into the fray, the three engaged in a deadly dance as the two Grandmasters pushed into Leif but were quickly repelled by the kinetic forces imbued within each strike.
Leif was reveling in the battle, he loved it here. As he weaved between the strikes of his foes, balancing offense and defense, his appreciation for his Primus Bloodline strengthened.
When he first discovered what Hollow Crown was capable of, he was disappointed. It failed to compete in destructive magnitude versus some of the other Bloodlines like Infernal or Stormborn. That was until he realized his true power. Kinetic forces did not need to be detonated at the tip of a particular apparatus. They could be detonated at a designated location, infusing his target with kinetic energy instead of his sword would allow him to ravage them internally.
Upon this discovery, he learned that he was a direct counter to those that specialized in strong external defenses. Furthermore, as far as he or his Masters were aware, there was no stopping his Bloodline. Artificers were capable of infusing armor with Flame or Lightning resistance, nullifying the main offenses of those previously mentioned Bloodlines. But Leif? He cared little for powerful armors or enchantments. He would bypass all of them and detonate his foes from within.
He ducked a slash from Vharran, slamming his foot into the ground and discharging a force that sent him hurtling forward like a cannonball. Vharran had little time to react as Leif slammed straight into his torso with an elbow, detonating another kinetic blast that sent the Grandmaster skidding backwards. Deep trenches dug into the earth where he had slid backwards but managed to maintain upright.
Althea had followed his sudden burst and was upon him. She rightfully recognized that he could not heft his sword around in time to block her offense, but she incorrectly recognized that he did not need it. He spun around and drug his foot up from the earth, connecting a powerful spinning back kick with her ribs as he detonated another kinetic blast. The shockwave sent her hurtling, but she spun midair to land on both feet.
Vharran grunted, shaking out his arms and lowering his sword. “Dammit kid, you’ve come far.”
“It helps that I’m a direct counter to the both of you.” It was true. There was a reason that he was sparring both Vharran and Althea, and not a combination that included Eldrin. Vharran’s Bloodline was practically worthless before Hollow Crown, and Althea’s subjugation aura had little effect on him because of his willpower.
He did not suffer the same painful sessions that he did in his youth, partly because he suspected that Vharran no longer felt he was capable of overpowering Leif. Furthermore, Leif felt that no single person in the fort was capable of overpowering him alone.
He squared his shoulders and glanced between Vharran and Althea, taking note of the cracked stone and deep cuts in the ground from their battle.
Althea flicked her daggers and twirled them before sliding them into the sheaths on her thighs. “That’s enough for now,” she said.
Vharran also relaxed his posture and planted his greatsword into the ground. “I agree. We will resume at a later date.”
Without response, Leif lowered his weapon and wiped the sweat from his brow. He may have had the upper hand, but that did not mean it came easy.
He sheathed his blade and began to walk toward the mess hall at the keep. His armor made light clinking sounds as he opted to eat before disarming. His fur tunic swayed as he walked, and his boots thudded against the stone path that led back. He passed several training yards that were clearing, initiates breaking for food as well.
As he neared the hall, a familiar voice called out. “Leif! Oy! Making the Grandmasters look like fools now, are we?”
Leif turned to see Bren who had grown to become his closest friend and a constant source of mirth amid the grueling life at the fort. His arms were crossed over his chest with one boot propped up behind him.
He was the type that never took anything too seriously. Of course, that’s what everyone though. But Leif knew better – Bren was no slouch.
“I wouldn’t say fools,” Leif responded. “Just... humbled.”
Bren snorted. “Humbled, huh? You sure Vharran’s gonna see it that way? Pretty sure the last time someone made him stagger that hard they had to drag them out of the yard in pieces.”
Leif chuckled. “Vharran knows better than to try me. I can always hit harder.”
Bren grinned. “Gods listen to this cocky bastard. Not too long ago didn’t even think your Bloodline was worth a damn. Now you toss around the Grandmasters like training dummies.” He pushed off the column and fell into step beside Leif. “It’s almost inspiring. If I gave a damn to be inspired.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t get too comfortable. I’m sure Vharran’s already thinking up a way to make me regret today.”
“That’s future Leif’s problem. Right now, there are more pressing matters – like eating.” Bren jerked his chin towards the tantalizing aroma of food. “Come on, I heard there’s venison today.”
The two continued toward the mess hall, when a loud horn sounded.
Leif and Bren froze.
And all at once the keep erupted into motion.
They barely had time to exchange glances before warriors poured from every hall and chamber to arm themselves. The air was electric, excitement and foreboding charged through the atmosphere with equal vigor.
Leif and Bren had just finished their sparring matches and were already armed, so instead of rushing to the barracks they began to make their way towards the southern gate of the fort. Bren’s confident smirk was gone, and Leif’s lips were pursed as they began to focus on the matter at hand.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
We’re being attacked. Leif thought. How could this happen? In his twenty-one years of life, he had never left the fort. It was never necessary, anything that he needed was to be provided to him. And he would not leave until he had graduated and was formally inducted into the elite guard of the Warrior-King. Yet, he knew geographically that Blackthorn Keep was located within only 2 days travel of the capital city of Othengard. Logic convinced him that an attack should be impossible without a runner giving the fort fair warning.
As he made his way toward the gate with Bren, loose ranks had already begun to form amongst the trainees and soldiers there. The Grandmasters stood at the front of the crowd, facing the closed gate. Their expressions were grim.
“Open the gate!” Vharran shouted.
Several warriors strode forward to unbar the gate. The doors were slowly pulled open with a groan.
The sight beyond, was petrifying. A lone figure atop a warhorse, clad in dark steel and royal embroidery. A dark brown cloak was draped over his shoulder, and a crown adorned his brow. He was a young man with short, blonde hair, he couldn’t have been older than Leif. Yet he carried himself with the confidence of a seasoned veteran.
Behind him was the true terror. An infinite cascade of banners, weapons, shields and armor. Soldiers. Thousands of them. Their formation stretched beyond what Leif could see, and he accepted immediately that this was not a force the people gathered here could hope to survive.
Bren let out a breath beside him. “For all things holy…”
The young man at the front of the battalion spoke.
“Greetings, warriors. I am King Aldric Veylan of Othengard.”
His announcement sent a ripple through everyone gathered. Othengard had a king. The Warrior-King, and it was not this man. The man before them was claiming blasphemy.
“I come bearing the truth – Othengard has fallen.”
Othengard? Fallen? Impossible. Leif thought. Vharran stepped forward, echoing his thoughts.
“Impossible,” he growled. “There is no nation capable of conquering Othengard besides the Empire – and they are on the other side of the continent.”
Althea and Eldrin stood behind him. Their eyes scanned Aldric and the battalion he led, calculating.
Aldric looked amused at Vharran’s disbelief. There was a certain smugness about his grin that really pissed Leif off.
“You are correct.” Aldric said. “One nation alone could not shatter Othengard. But it was not only one. Those you conquered, the people you crushed beneath your boots, the voices you silenced…”
He paused to let his words sink in. Othengard was a militaristic nation. Their infrastructure was weak, and they struggled to nurture a self-sustaining economy. To supplement their poor performance in these areas they would subjugate nearby fiefdoms and demand tributes.
“They endured. And when the time came, they reached out. To Elyndor, who saw your kind as a threat. To Valcia, who deemed your existence as an abomination. They wanted nothing more to break free of the chains you clad them in. Who were we to turn them away?”
Vharran balled his fists as he moved to speak.
“So you would have us believe that a some fractured vassal states, a kingdom, and a theocracy too weak to wage its own wars brought Othengard to its knees?”
Aldric chuckled. “Your disbelief is natural. The Warrior-King did not fear them either. He thought them beneath him, just as you do now.” His fingers traced the pommel of the sword at his hip. “But arrogance has a price. And Othengard has paid it in full.”
“And what of the capital?” Eldrin spoke up from behind Vharran.
Aldric tilted his head. “Burned. Razed to the ground. The Warrior-King fell in battle too.” He smirked again. “Bravely, of course.”
Outrage spread through the ranks of everyone assembled.
The Warrior-King is dead?
It sounded preposterous, but the man with an army at their doorstep said it was so. To be candid, every train of thought that Leif had conceived led to this outcome.
“Leif.”
He turned, startled. Althea was right beside him. She had slipped through the crowd while he was in thought and now grabbed his arm.
“You must go. You must survive this. We need someone strong enough to keep hope alive.”
He cast a quick glance at her. “You know I’m not in the habit of running.”
Althea’s tone sharpened. “You’re also not in the habit of throwing your life away. You know as well as I do that this is a fool’s errand. If what Aldric says is true, Othengard is gone, or near enough. Even if it isn’t true, that doesn’t change the fact that this keep stands no chance against that army. If we lose you here, we lose someone that can reunite what remains.”
Leif took in what she said. “You know I’m no leader.”
“But you can be,” she responded, as if expecting him to say that. “You have proven yourself. Do not doubt what you are capable of.”
Bren cut in from behind, having noticed Althea and inching closer to listen in on their conversation. “Leif, she’s right.”
Leif turned his head to lock eyes with his friend. He did not expect Bren to agree with her.
“You’re the best we’ve got, and that means you cannot die here. If Othengard is going to live on, it’s going to be through you. If we lose you here, we lose more than a single warrior – we lose a bastion who can reunite what’s left.”
Frustration crossed Leif’s mind – he detested fleeing. But when he removed his emotions and judged the situation for what it was… they were not wrong. He did not know that he agreed he could reunite a Kingdom when he’d never even left the fort. He did know that he would die here if he chose to fight. That did not scare him, but Althea and Bren seemed to believe he was capable of doing much more. He would not deny them.
“Tell me the route.” His tone was clipped.
Althea lowered her voice even more. “Make for the northern end of the keep. There’s a hidden passageway behind the old armory. It was sealed up years ago, but the stone hatch can still be opened if you pry. Follow that tunnel all the way to the exit near the ravine. Once you’re keep, keep to the tree line at the base of the cliffs; you’ll encounter a river that flows into the Kingdom of Valcia. They may have scouts, but it’s still the safest way out.”
Leif recounted what she told him in her head. He knew the way, it wasn’t a complicated route, but something did bother him.
“Kingdom of Valcia?” Leif echoed. “Did Aldric not say that Valcia joined the alleged coalition that is attacking Othengard?”
Althea nodded gravely. “Yes. But their domain is vast, and not every corner of Valcia is patrolled or under strict control. You can slip through the outer territories unseen.”
Leif looked up once more to see Vharran growing increasingly aggressive with Aldric, who appeared to continue egging him on.
“Seems like I don’t have many alternatives.”
Althea’s grip on his arm tightened for a moment so that he could sense her urgency. “You don’t. Go. Keep safe. And remember your roots.”
Bren spoke up, a goofy grin on his face that did not suit the situation. “Don’t worry mate, we’ve got this. I’m gonna shove my dagger so far up this egotistic fuck’s ass that he’ll be begging for forgiveness for all the things he said.”
“Gods Bren, your mouth is going to really screw you one day.” Leif replied, shaking his head.
“Not today though,” he said back. “Now get out of here, you’ll have a small window to reach the northern end before Vharran pushes this guy over the edge.”
At that, Leif wasted no time. He exchanged brief eye contact with both of them before nodding and slipping away. He could still hear Vharran shouting at Aldric from several tens of meters away, and it truly was awe inspiring that in the face of that army he was able to remain so ostentatious.
He darted behind a broken column, keeping his head low. Made his way through a training yard, and kept sprinting until he found a dilapidated doorway that led to the northern wing of the old armory. In the distance, he heard Vharran’s rage climbing to a fever pitch. Aldric’s voice carried too, all royal pretenses vanished. He was taunting, mocking – fanning the flames of conflict. He sprinted into the doorway and through a corridor that was lined with tapestries showing scenes of Othengard’s legendary conquests. Leif paused and ran his hand over the stones until he felt the faint shift of a loose block. He unsheathed his greatsword and jammed it into the crack, prying it open. The wall groaned, revealing an opening that led deep into the darkness. Stale, cool air spilled out to meet him.
Leif slipped inside, pulling the hidden door shut behind him. He was plunged into total darkness. He relied on his sense of touch to navigate the narrow corridor. The tunnel went straight before turning into a downward spiral. He pressed on, picking up his pace. He was hidden from direct pursuit, so he thought, but he could not discount the possibility that someone noticed him slip away and went to follow him or alert scouts.
Finally, a pale light appeared in the distance. He once more started moving a little fast, before he reached a stone door with a rusted latch. He slid it back with minimal effort and pushed the door open. Leif stepped through, examining the terrain, and pausing to listen. He breathed in and out slowly and perked his ears, he did not know what would become of his comrades. But he would not let their sacrifice be in vain.