《Tyrant》 The Prisoner Marianne walked through the white-walled corridors of the Royal Palace of Ukaibe, basket of tools in hand, making her way to her new assignment. The Chamberlain had called to her early this morning and said she was off washing duties, and instead was to start looking after a very important guest within the Palace. This had excited her, and her joy must have been obvious, because the Chamberlain had smiled too as he ushered her off, telling her to go visit the Captain of the Guard just after midday. She was just about to reach his office, the coolness exuded from the stonework of the walls filling her with pep and vigour as she rapped her knuckles on the wooden door. A single word drifted from beyond the door, ¡°Come,¡± and obediently she opened the door and stepped inside. Before her was a small office space, filled mostly by a large desk which was covered in various papers, and a bookshelf that appeared to be devoid of books. An older man was sitting behind the desk, his hair having gone snow-white with his age. He looked up from what he was writing and ran a hand through his also white goatee. He leaned back in his chair as he took a good look at the woman standing before him. Marianne could see that even while he sat at his desk he was wearing his full uniform, such as his breastplate and the padded shirt which tried to provide his arms with some protection. The Captain eyed her up and down, noting the basket she held and the plain garb that all the maids within the Palace wore. He sighed slightly and rummaged around on his desk, eventually finding the paper he was after he held it up before his eyes and adjust the spectacles he wore ever so slightly. ¡°And you would be Marianne?¡± he lowered the page so he could see her nod as a huge smile beamed across her face, ¡°So you¡¯re the one they have sent me? Well, I don¡¯t suppose the Chamberlain told you what you would be doing?¡± He let the paper go and it fluttered down to the desk to hide amongst the other again. She beamed over at the Captain as she answered his question. ¡°He said I would be looking after a Palace guest,¡± she shifted the weight of the basket to her other hip. ¡°Well, I do suppose that is one way of putting it,¡± the Captain clicked his tongue a few times in thought before pushing himself up from the desk. He walked around to her, his height causing him to tower a good head above her. ¡°Well, follow me then, I¡¯ll find someone to take you to the guest.¡± Making their way out of the office they headed over to where the Mess was. The hall was slowly emptying itself, but there were still enough people around. The Captain grabbed the arm of a passing guard and looked at him squinted eyes, before letting him go on his way. The smells of the food were overwhelming her, the servants didn¡¯t get food that smelt this good in their mess. Roasted meats and vegetables filled the air, with underlying hints of exotic spices and red wine. Marianne wiped some drool from the corner of her mouth as she tried to compose herself, hoping the Captain would hurry up before her stomach started to growl and embarrass her. ¡°Hey, Redmond,¡± the Captain called out while pointing to a guard who was sitting near the middle of the hall, munching away on some bread. To Marianne it looked freshly baked. ¡°Redmond, it¡¯s time. Go grab the food and the buckets and lead this here maid, Pene¡­ no¡­ Rache¡­ no¡­. Whatever, this maid here. I¡¯ll have her wait outside.¡± The guard nodded with a wide grin around his mouthful of food and raised a hand to let the Captain know he had heard. Excusing himself from his fellows Marianne watched as he made his way off somewhere else. The Captain placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her back out of the Mess. He led her off to the side and motioned for her to stand by the wall. ¡°Redmond will be out momentarily,¡± he said as he lay a hand on her shoulder, ¡°I hope you do well in your new position. It¡¯s once a week, and it excuses you from the other maid activities.¡± ¡°May I ask why the position needs replacing, sir?¡± she politely questioned the Captain. ¡°Oh, no major reason,¡± he said jovially, ¡°The person who previously held this position got married to a guard recently and is almost due for her baby, so she decided it would be better to focus on running her own household. If you keep your wits about you this position could be held for many years to come.¡± With a final pat on the shoulder he headed back to his office, and Marianne just waited patiently in the corridor, gazing around at all the intricately carved columns and cornices that lined the walkways. Redmond did not take too long to appear. Over one shoulder he was carrying a bar supporting two buckets filled with water, balancing them precariously as he walked. In his other hand he held a plate of fine foods, various roast meats of which she could not even identify as well as more of the freshly baked bread, which now filled the air with its lovely scent. A small sack swung below the plate. She noticed that the plate was of questionable quality though, appearing as something the servants themselves might have used rather than a distinguished guest. ¡°Alright then, lass,¡± he said in a pleasant tone, making her feel at ease, ¡°If you¡¯ll follow me, we¡¯ll go down and see him.¡± He started walking off as she questioned him, ¡°Down?¡± ¡°Oh yes, down,¡± he called back over his shoulder, ¡°Are you not aware of who you go to visit?¡± ¡°No, no one has actually told me, aside from that he is a guest.¡± ¡°Well, they call him that, but you¡¯ll see soon enough. Too bad ole Maggie left, she was good at this. We¡¯ll see how you go, eh.¡± He quietened down as he made his way further into the Palace. He held doors for her as they went through them, going down flights of stairs, going deeper than she had imagined. The white marble walls had given way a while ago to grey stone, the fine carvings were gone and the walls were rough. When she placed a hand on one to keep her balance it felt slimy and she quickly wiped it on her dress. More guards started appearing, and Redmond nodded to each as they went past. Some of them smiled at Marianne but mostly they kept to themselves. They reached an extremely heavy looking door at one stage, and Redmond asked if Marianne could knock for him, not wanting the spill the water he carried. A head suddenly peered back at them from behind bars that were inset in the door. ¡°Oh Redmond, it¡¯s you,¡± the voice of the man on the other side was gruff and bespoke years of experience. He glanced over at Marianne, ¡°Ah, here for our guest I see. Just a moment, I¡¯ll let you.¡± The sound of a large key grinding in a lock followed his disappearance, and the door slowly swung open. The hinges were well oiled and it moved with ease, the guard standing to the side with a slight bow and a giggle for Marianne. ¡°Welcome,¡± happiness was written across his face, ¡°to the prison!¡± A slight gasp escaped her lips as she noticed that the next corridor was no longer lined with rock walls, but with the bars of prison cells. Redmond pressed on and Marianne rushed to catch up with him, pressing in close as she peered into the cells she passed.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! The first few were empty, and the rest on this level were well kept, the prisoners not looking any worse for wear. Some came to the bars and leered at her, smiling greasy smiles that sent shivers down her spine. ¡°Thieves and the like,¡± Redmond called back to her, ¡°Petty crimes generally.¡± A spiral staircase greeted them next and they moved further down into the prison. A smell drifted up the stairs and she needed to steel herself before making her way down. It was a mixture of piss and faeces, unwashed bodies and rotten straw. The dark corridor was lined with fewer torches than the previous one, and this made each cell all the eerier as a hand reached out for her, laughing as she squealed. Redmond just ignored them all, kindly pointing out to her that these people were the ones with the more serious of crimes. Murderers and rapists. She shivered as he did, glad that there were iron bars between them and herself. They continued down into another spiral staircase and came out in another hall. This one was not lit any better, but there were no cells down here. They pressed onward and after what she thought was about the same length of corridor as the previous had been the walls gave way and guards appeared on either side of her, sitting at tables playing cards. There were eight guards there, and one nodded at Redmond as he moved to open a door that was now blocking their path. The new guard now led them down the next passageway. Slowly the barren rock walls, gave way again to more expensive stonework, the marble walls from higher up reappearing. Marianne¡¯s brow furrowed as she looked confused. The ¡®guest¡¯ was becoming more and more of an oddity the more they moved down, since passing through the prison and then a guard station, she had assumed that this ¡®guest¡¯ must be the worst of the worst kind of prisoner. But the return of the marble walls was telling her otherwise. She was starting to get conflicting information. An ornate door rose before them and the guard knocked before unlocking it. The lock was well cared for and the key turned easily, the lock springing open with a satisfying click. The door opened outwards to reveal a very spacious cell. The marble carried through into the room, which was circular, and very well-lit from a shaft that was in the ceiling. Water also dripped down over to one side, and a small array of plants were growing around the edges of the walls. On a raised piece of ground in the middle of the room sat a man, cross-legged with his back to them. He wore no clothes and Marianne could see the build-up of grime that covered him, his hair was long and matted, and from the side she could see tendrils of a scraggy beard covering his face. A smell alerted her to the presence of faecal matter that cascaded from where he sat down to the bottom of the small rise. "Welcome to one of the most well-designed rooms within the whole Palace," the new guard waved a hand at the entirety of the room, "The light source comes from that shaft, which is mirrored all along it''s inside and rises above the back of the Palace. The water is rainwater that gets collected in tanks higher up and is allowed to trickle down. It provides him with fresh water, and lets his plants grow." Redmond moved over to the side gingerly placed the buckets on a clean section of earth. He then balanced the plate on the knee of the prisoner. ¡°Who is he?¡± She asked, half wanting to know, but also half wishing she never had this job. ¡°No one really knows,¡± Redmond shrugged, ¡°He¡¯s always been here.¡± The other guard nodded, ¡°I¡¯ve been at this post for a few years now, and this guy is the only prisoner down this far.¡± Even with the speaking going on and the plate on his knee the man still had not moved. Marianne moved around to the side of him and could see now that his eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. His body was well-toned, muscles clearly defined, and neither overly large or too skinny. He just seemed to be really well proportioned. ¡°Ah, we¡¯ll leave you be then,¡± Redmond said from the doorway as he and the other guard moved out, closing it behind them, ¡°Just call out when you¡¯re done, the sound travels really well down here.¡± The lock clicked shut and a slight feeling of dread overtook her. She placed the basket down and realisation dawned on what she was required to do. In the buckets Redmond had brought, one was filled with hot water while the other had cold water. The Chamberlain had given her a list of items to bring, including sponges and a cutthroat razor, all of which were in her basket. Slowly she started cleaning the man. Washing the grime from his back, shovelling his waste over to the sides to become fertilizer for the plants, making sure to keep the soap suds away from his plate of food. She did not want to mess up the nice food that resided on the plate. She began washing his hair, and the colour of it started to return, a black as deep as the darkest night sky, as the last remnants of a town¡¯s lights faded away. She massaged his scalp and combed through the soap, untangling the knots that had formed from a lack of care. ¡°Ingrid?¡± came a soft voice. The word sounded from the man and Marianne was so startled she fell backwards. She shook her head, half thinking she had imagined it, and got herself back to work, giving his hair a deep cleanse. ¡°Is that you Ingrid?¡± came the voice again, mournful this time, on the verge of tears, ¡°It has been so long since I have felt your touch.¡± ¡°I am not Ingrid, sorry,¡± she muttered back. ¡°Oh,¡± the sorrow in his voice stabbed daggers through her heart, ¡°I am sorry, I thought you were Ingrid. There have been so many, I lose track of who is who¡­¡± "Look, my name is Marianne," she grabbed the bucket of warm water which was now half-empty, "And if you don''t move your plate of food it''s going to get doused with water." He startled as he noticed the food on his leg, but deftly collected the plate and all its belongings and quickly raised it out of the way. She emptied the bucket on his head and washed all the soap away, cleaning the hill of the remaining waste matter in the process. Once done she grabbed a towel and her comb again and began drying it. The man started to slowly eat the food as she did so, making no comment on its quality but savouring every bite. Once she was satisfied with his hair, and his plate was empty, Marianne moved around before him. She placed herself on the ground before him and readied the cutthroat. She looked up and he stared back with brilliant blue eyes that sparkled like a crystal-clear sky. She was overcome by the scene for a moment, but shook her head as she began to cut away the mess of hair that seemed to be a beard. Rather than trying to trim it up she just cleared the whole thing. While she worked she tried to start up a conversation with the man. ¡°So, you know my name, but what is yours.¡± His eyebrows came together as he thoughts, but he answered with ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Hmm, that¡¯s a problem,¡± she removed the hair below his nose and quickly moved the razor away as he sneezed, ¡°What about why you are here?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know that either,¡± he said with a shrug. ¡°Do you know anything?¡± He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve been here for a long time, that is all I remembered. I see images flowing through my mind, but I can¡¯t really remember what they are,¡± his eyes started to look off into the distance as if watching these images again, ¡°Maybe they¡¯ll make good stories.¡± He smiled, his fair skin and pristine teeth shone through now that the mass of hair had been removed from his face. He ran a hand over his smooth skin and Marianne stepped back to admire the work she had done, while clearly trying to keep her gaze on his face and away from his naked lower half. Marianne looked him over properly now, since he was clean, and was even more confused. His body, his toned muscles, his face. They all spoke to her of a person in his late twenties, maybe even his early twenties. But not someone who could be considered to have been here for so long that he had forgotten who he was. Half the murderers in the cells above still knew who they were, and they would likely have been here for many years so far. ¡°You really don¡¯t know who you are?¡± ¡°Really,¡± he said as he smiled back at her, causing her to take a defensive stance, ¡°I do thank you for your time today though. It has been a pleasure.¡± His way of speaking was more formal than she was expecting of someone in his state. He still had not moved from his spot though, his legs still crossed. He watched her as she walked around him until she was past where his head could turn. She went to the door and called out to Redmond. The sound of steps was almost instantaneous as the two guards made their way down the hall and opened the door. They nodded when they looked at the man in the cell, pleased with the work she had done, and gathered the buckets. They ushered her out the door and shut it behind them. ¡°Was he a child when he was put in here?¡± she asked before they left, glancing at the door. The guard considered the room through the opening in the door, ¡°Not that I¡¯m aware of. When I started he looked exactly like he does now. He doesn¡¯t seem to have aged a day.¡± Redmond just shrugged, "It''s best not to ask too many questions. Because either no one knows, or they are too tight-lipped to say. Only thing is, he is one of the better looked after prisoners, though it has been a while since he''s had anything other than food brought to him. Maggie left about three months ago.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s move,¡± the other guard said, ¡°his silence always make me uncomfortable. Don¡¯t know how you girls always seem to get him to talk, he never says a word when the guards are around.¡± ¡°It¡¯s all good, Marianne,¡± Redmond put a comforting arm around her shoulder as they walked off down the corridor back into the prison, ¡°You¡¯ll be down here once a week to make sure he¡¯s cared for.¡± The Prince The next week Marianne returned to the small cell at the very bottom of the Palace. The brilliant light and polished marble walls belied its location. Getting to it was no easier than it had been the first time, and walking between the cells still gave her a chill. She had almost dropped her basket as hands had reached through the bars to try and grasp at her. The footsteps of the retreating guards made her posture stiffen as she was reminded of the predicament she was in. The back of the man was in the same position it had been in the last week, unchanged in any way that she could tell. She still had no idea who the man was, and no one else seemed to know either. What has he done to warrant this treatment? She thought as she sidled around the edge of the cell to make her way to his front. ¡°Welcome back,¡± came the voice of the prisoner, barely above a whisper but the closeness of the room and her looming apprehension caused the words to ring like a gong and she shrank back. ¡°Thank you?¡± Marianne managed as she set the basket down, though it turned into more a question than she had hoped. ¡°I am glad you came back,¡± he raised his head to look at her with his striking eyes, a twinkle in his eyes making the grin he had even more genuine, ¡°It feels like you have been gone but moments.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been a week,¡± the week had gone slowly for Marianne, with little else to do in the Palace. But it was a good life to have. She could brave a difficult walk through the prisons to only have to work once a week. ¡°An hour, a day, a week, a month, a year¡­¡± he let a sigh out and lowered his head, ¡°Time means nothing down here. I know the passing of the days from when the cell changes from light to dark, but I have since given up on keeping track of anything. Memories just meld into one now, time flows on, and I sit here.¡± ¡°That is sad.¡± He shrugged, ¡°That it may be, but it is my lot in life now. I once cared. How long ago that was, I do not recall.¡± Marianne began the process of cleaning him again as he bit into juicy pieces of chicken. It was much easier now, since the grime he had displayed last time was now at a more manageable level. While she scrubbed his back her stomach growled. She tried to ignore it, but his back starting to shake as he suppressed silent laughter. Grabbing the rough metal plate he placed it on the ground before him and stopped eating. He calmed his laughter and waited silently as she finished washing his back and hair and dumped the bucket over his head like last time. Once sufficiently dry she moved back around to the front and began to get the cutthroat ready to remove his weeks worth of growth. ¡°Why not join me first,¡± he motioned to the other side of the plate. ¡°Oh, no. I could not do that,¡± she placed the razor down and eyed the food, ¡°I am not hungry, I eat a good three meals a day.¡± ¡°You are not doing a good job of fooling yourself,¡± he smiled and motioned again for her to sit across from him, ¡°Your stomach has other plans, and it includes whatever is on my plate.¡± Obediently she moved across to sit before him, unsure what he might do if she pressed the issue too much. She still did not know what warranted having a prisoner under such tight security. She sat with both her legs to the side, and as she adjusted her dress her stomach let out another growl. She looked away from the plate, her cheeks beginning to flush a rosy colour. ¡°Please, feel free to eat,¡± he picked up another piece of chicken and started chewy on it, his other hand pushing the plate a little closer to her. ¡°No, I could not eat a prisoners food, that is wrong,¡± her eyes kept darting to the bread roll that adorned the edge of the plate, its crispy crust shouting out for her to eat it. He picked it up and offered it to her. ¡°I have no real need for this food,¡± he swallowed the last of the chicken and pressed the roll into her hands, ¡°I only eat because the food is there, and I would rather not waste it. They only bring it to me when someone like you comes along.¡± She crunched down on the roll at the same moment that realisation dawned on her, her eyes widening like saucers. ¡°Your lasb meal was lasb weeb?¡± She swallowed her food as he cocked an eyebrow at her, ¡°Do you mean, this is the first food you have had since I was here last?¡± He nodded and Marianne started to lower the roll back to the plate. ¡°If I give you the food, do you not think it rude to put it back?¡± He grabbed the edge of the plate and moved it out of her reach, ¡°Especially after you have taken a bite out of the roll already!¡± ¡°But, but, you only have food when someone comes down to clean you¡­¡± Marianne bowed her head, refusing to look his way, ¡°I am sorry, the way I phrased that was insensitive.¡± ¡°Ha, not at all. You only said the truth. You came here to clean me, and that is when my food is brought. Do you not think it would be odd if I didn¡¯t give them back the plate still full with food. This way the guards do not ask too many questions. Not that I speak to them anyway.¡± ¡°I have more questions, do you mind if I ask?¡± Marianne risked a glance up to see him nod and shrug at the same time, ¡°So your last food before I came was when the previous person was here?¡± He nodded. ¡°Do you realise that was three months before I came?¡± ¡°I told you before, time means nothing to me anymore,¡± he shrugged and glanced around the room, ¡°Who knows when the meal before that was.¡± ¡°Okay, next question,¡± she leaned in closer and held the bread roll in two hands tightly, ¡°How do you still look so healthy?¡± ¡°I have no idea, I don¡¯t remember a time when I didn¡¯t look like this,¡± he raised his arms and began looking at his well-defined body, ¡°How about this. Rather than asking me questions I cannot answer, how about you eat the food I have given you, and I will tell you a story.¡± ¡°A story?¡± She managed to get out just before shoving the roll back in her mouth. ¡°I cannot piece fiction from fact. There is so much going on in my mind, I do not know what is real, and what has been imagined. I will try and find something that is interesting for you though, so you can eat while I talk.¡± With the roll now more than half gone Marianne just nodded. He didn¡¯t seem to need to eat if he could look like he does after months without food, it would just go to waste if he ate it, and the food was leaps and bounds above what the servants had to eat, even if it was just simple roasted meat and fresh bread. ¡°Ah, I know. I don¡¯t know where it is from, but I feel I remember something. There was this young man. He was the youngest of seven sons. He came from a rich family, but as the seventh son he did not have a big part to play in the family affairs. He learnt bits and pieces of what his brothers learnt, but they had gone off to specialise in different aspects of the family, and he was left to make his own way.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°His father paid him little attention, so he was constantly trying to do things that would garner some sort of look from him, but his efforts were to no avail as his father¡¯s eyes were on his older brothers as they were groomed to take over when he passed on. "His mother, on the other hand, doted over him. He was her baby, no matter how old he got, and he could not bring himself to disobey her as he did his father. If she asked something of him he would not let anything keep it from being done. Her every wish was his command. Oh, how he loved his mother so. ¡°But then came a time when things would change¡­¡± * * * Tyran threw his cards down on the table in disgust. Hand after hand he had lost. The funds he had brought with him had slowly dwindled to nothing. He clinked the last few gold coins he had piled up before him. Quickly he picked them up and tossed them into a small pouch tied to the belt around his waist. ¡°I think, fellas,¡± he stood up and moved his chair out of the way, bowing his head to the others around the table, ¡°That I will have to call it a day. My coins are running low and I had best stop before I get in debt with anyone here.¡± The others just continued their game and paid him no mind. He tried to flash a smile their way, but they did not even look up from their cards. Tyran¡¯s smile slowly dropped as he realised he wasn¡¯t getting a reaction. This was always the way, friendly while the money was flowing but as soon as it stopped they turned to ice. Tyran shook his head slightly and stepped out of the tavern and into the brisk air that marked the setting of the sun. Even if the days were warm bordering on hot, Tyran¡¯s home was almost in a desert, and the temperatures at night dropped rather quickly. Thankfully they were just on the border, and the cold was bearable. He slipped his arms into his coat and set off in the darkness on his way home. The Palace loomed above him as he trudged along, and he continued down the wide road that led directly to it. The guards standing at the gate gave him a curt nod as he passed, but did not budge from their position looking out onto the street. Tyran turned from the front entrance and made his way around the side, trying to get to one of the servants'' entrances to get back into the building. Even at this time of night the Palace was still a hive of activity, with maids and stable hands ducking around the various courtyards. He made his way to a kitchen entrance and moved inside, trying to make his presence as inconspicuous as possible. Cooks and kitchen hands were bustling about as they had already started preparing the meals for the morning. The appeared to pay him no mind as he made his way deeper inside. The long, carpeted hallways, walls glistening white, were illuminated by sconces places down their length. When he reached the one that led to his bedroom he froze. A figure stood in the hall, right in front of his door. His heart sank and his shoulders slumped as he slowly made his way closer. ¡°Hi, Mother,¡± he stopped a short distance away from the figure. Moving forward his mother grabbed him by the ear and pulled him down so she could hiss in it, "Don''t you ''Mother'' me. Your Father has been looking for you all evening. The Palace has been in an uproar trying to find you," she let him go and stood there, arms folded, foot-tapping, "And you reek of smoke! What have you been doing?" ¡°I was just out having a quiet drink with my friends?¡± He looked down at the ground, the tapping foot drawing his attention as he was trying to avoid her gaze. ¡°Oh, right¡­¡± he could hear her eyes rolling in her voice, ¡°We asked your friends since they were all still here in the Palace¡­" ¡°Fine, I was out playing cards.¡± His mother tutted, turned on her heel and started pacing down the hallway. He was slow to react, so she called out, ¡°Your Father is still looking for you, so you had better hurry. Come with me, I don¡¯t want you getting ¡®lost¡¯ on your way to his study.¡± Tyran walked a step behind his mother as she led him through other hallways until they stood before a large, ornate set of double doors. The exotic wood was painstakingly carved with intricate patterns telling of legends long past. His Mother raised her hand and politely knocked. ¡°Come in,¡± the stern voice of his Father called out. Tyran stepped inside as his Mother opened the door for him. He looked over at where his Father was sitting behind his desk, scowling. A sharp movement of his hand directed Tyran to stand off to the side, beside one of the many bookshelves that filled the study. His Mother moved off to the other side and sat down in a chair that was prepared for her. There was a figure sitting opposite his Father, deep in conversation with him. He turned to look at Tyran and Tyran was stunned by his appearance. His hair was a deep blonde and wavy, his eyes sparkled, and the smile that adorned his face seemed like it was a work of art. The man''s body was also a marvel, and even through his swathes of armour and cloth, Tyran could still tell that he was well built, a trained soldier through and through. ¡°Finally my delinquent son arrives,¡± his Father snarled at him before turning back to his guest with the face of a hustler, ¡°Ah, excuse his lateness, Grand Marshall, he is still young. He was probably out spending his free time on something beneath his status.¡± The words stung Tyran, even though they were directed at the man. Realisation dawned on him, and he cocked an eyebrow. His Father had called him Grand Marshall. The only person who Tyran was aware of that went by that title was the leader of the Resistance. The most hard-working and brilliant man to put his feet forward, one after the other, and fight back against the Overlord. He was amazing at everything he did and was yet to lose a battle. The man turned in his chair again, arm casually hanging over the back, eyeing Tyran up and down, ¡°I would be happy to have him join with me.¡± Tyran¡¯s other eyebrow shot up. "Ah, good, good," his Father turned his attention back to him, "Drop those eyebrows, boy. GM West here is graciously taking you on as a prot¨¦g¨¦. This is a great honour for our country! Do not disappoint!" A finger rose into the air to add credence to the last words. Breaking his stance Tyran rushed to the table and faced his Father, slamming his hands onto the wooden desktop. ¡°Father, you promised me!¡± he started blurting out, the guest all but forgotten about, ¡°You said I would take command soon. That I would be given my own men to look after and take into war. Why do I have to follow this pretty boy around?¡± West burst out into roaring laughter at being called a pretty boy and slapped his hand on the edge of the table a few times. The Father and son both looked at him, befuddled. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard that one before,¡± he calmed himself, ¡°But, as the King has stated, Tyran, I am in need of a prot¨¦g¨¦, and your father has pointed to you as an ideal candidate.¡± A thought began to boil in Tyran¡¯s mind, his disgust at his Father¡¯s decision was turning into a slight smile as he tilted his head over to West. ¡°If I am your prot¨¦g¨¦, does that mean I might get to command at the front lines? That¡¯s an important job right? I¡¯ll get recognised?¡± "Sorry to say, Tyran," West interjected, "But I will not be returning to the front lines anytime soon. I have another task at hand and have left the front lines in capable hands. They should hold out long enough for me to complete my own objectives." Tyran¡¯s head slumped to the table, ¡°Father, I am not going. You promised! I want to go to the war!¡± A gentle hand suddenly rested on his back and he lifted his eyes to look at his Mother. His rage died down and he raised himself to stand before her. She cupped his cheek with a hand and he closed his eyes for a moment. Then he felt a sharp pain as she slapped him. He stepped back. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare talk that way to your Father!¡± She scolded him, ¡°You will do as your told, whether you like it or not. I did not raise you to be a spoiled brat always trying to get his way.¡± Tyran was taken aback. The King was nodding slowly, a look of desire in his eyes as he watched his wife take control of the situation. West tried to suppress even more laughter. ¡°Fine,¡± Tyran said, kicking his foot at the carpet. ¡°Oh good,¡± West clapped his hands together and broke the tension, ¡°I do not wish to dally here. Let us leave at first light. Assuming you have no problems with that,¡± he held a hand towards the King and Queen, asking their permission. ¡°I see no issues,¡± the King said, ¡°I¡¯ll get a maid to see you to your room, Grand Marshall West, and at first light you and Tyran can be on your way to wherever it is you are going.¡± Tyran walked out of the study feeling dejected as he made his way back to his room, where he finally managed to flop in his bed and fall asleep. * * * ¡°¡­And from then on the young man would accompany the more experienced soldier on his travels.¡± Marianne swallowed the last morsel of food as he finished his story. Remembering where she was and why she was there she quickly finished her routine as the prisoner appeared to now be lost in thought. She shaved him and cleaned up. Gathering everything together she called out to the guards through the door. The prisoner had not moved since he had finished, his eyes staring blankly into nothingness, as if he had forgotten all about Marianne. ¡°I will return next week,¡± she called to him as the guards opened the door to let her out of the cell. Still he sat, his back to the door, unmoving. The Bear The following week Marianne followed the same routine, and after dumping the bucket on his head the prisoner put the still full plate of food before him and motioned for her to sit before him. As she grabbed a lamb shank, dripping with juices that smelled of red wine and herb, delicately trying to bite into it without spilling it all over her clothes, the prisoner began to talk. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about something a little different to last time,¡± he looked up at her as she wiped meat juices from her chin, ¡°The frozen forests of the northern lands are home to a myriad of wild beasts. The wild geese are huge, there are massive moose with antlers that are bigger than a mans stretched arms, and foxes and rabbits the same colour as the snow who are impossible to see until you stand atop them. ¡°But, by far the most dangerous creatures in this inhospitable place is the bear. They come in different colours and sizes, but all should not be trifled with. To hunt one you must make sure you have the right equipment. The right bait, the right weapons, the right mentality. Here I have a story about a man who survived an attack by a bear while he was weaponless¡­¡± * * * Tyran took a few steps from the apparent safety of the trees into the large, snow-covered clearing that opened up before them, building to a small hill in the middle. At the peak of the hill stood three cairns, built from various sized rocks taken from the surroundings. He stopped as a chill breeze crept through the multiple layers of clothing he wore. He looked over at West, who was leaning up against a tree. His only new adornment from the attire he had worn at their first meeting was a thick woollen cape that he had now wrapped around himself. His hand snaked from under the folds and motioned for Tyran to continue. ¡°What are we here for?¡± Tyran whined, unused to the cold of the northern reaches of the continent, ¡°There¡¯s nothing out here. Only this snow stuff.¡± He stamped his feet as he tried to free himself of the ankle-deep substance that was beginning to soak his boots and stockings with ice-cold moisture. This place they were in now seemed to have snow in abundance, something his homeland in Ukaibe had not seen for countless generations. Snow was like a myth further south, to those un-travelled. ¡°The village Soothsayers were very clear. Everyone one we saw said the same thing,¡± West began reciting the same thing he told Tyran every time the question had come up in the past few days, ¡°The man called Ulfgar is the best tracker in these ranges, and he is our best chance to convince someone to join us.¡± ¡°And this is the spot?¡± Tyran pointed up at the almost empty hillock. West just nodded solemnly. Tyran sighed and his shoulders slumped forward, all will to fight the impending trudge through the snow gone. West waved him on again. His feet crunched through the snow as he made his way to the cairns. His breath misted before him as he started to feel that the world was getting smaller. The trees were getting smaller and smaller, and the sounds of the forest creatures were dwindling until the last sounds of birds whistling was just the ringing in his ears. The white that surrounded him felt oppressive, the pale blue sky, devoid of a single cloud, starkly contrasting the bleakness of the snow-covered landscape. The ground rose before him and his movements became more laboured as the thickness of the snow increased the further away from the trees he got. He reached the top of the hill, atop which stood the three cairns he had seen from afar. The emptiness of the world around him pressed in and he shivered, not from the biting cold, but from the feeling that something here was otherworldly. The cairns felt out of place now, but his eyes were drawn to them, and he looked more carefully at them. They were put together from a myriad of differing stones, each placed precisely atop the other so they formed a kind of cone-shaped mound, which rose past his waist. The central one was roughly his shoulder height at the top and the base was wider than his shoulders. The other two were smaller versions on the central one. None of them seemed incomplete, and upon walking around them Tyran saw that flowers had been placed between the rocks on the leeward side, protecting them from the chill winds. A smaller mound just off to the side intrigued him. He had not seen it from the distance, but now he noticed it and how it rose just above the height of the cairns. Tyran walked up to it and then tried to climb his way up. His hands tried to grab onto the snow, but it just pulled away every time. He pushed his hands in deeper, attempting to grab onto whatever was forming the mound. Finding purchase he grabbed and pulled himself partway up. He grabbed again, slightly further up, and was surprised by what his fingers brushed against. Fur? His mind raced at the idea of fur being under the thick layer of snow. Before he had time to think further on it the mound shook, snow being flung to his left and right and blasting into his face. The fur he was holding onto rose up, dragging him with it. Tyran screamed at the sudden onslaught of snow and movement and let go, falling backwards into the snow. His arms and legs scrabbled at the ground as he tried to move away from the hulking mass that was continuing the shake snow from its bulk. As the snow settled Tyran could more clearly see a huge, brown, fur-covered shape had risen before him. Its height towered over his own, and it was easily twice as wide as he was himself. He tried to move slowly away from the creature, to hide behind one of the cairns while it had still not seen him, but his hand pressed into the snow causing it to crackle as it passed between his fingers. The mound of fur before him grunted with a deep low rumble. Then it started to sniff at the air in front of it. Its shoulder lowered and Tyran could see it was starting to turn around. Adrenalin began to kick in, his muscles beginning to warm up, and his breathing quickening. Twisting around his pushed himself off the ground and began to run towards the trees he had emerged from. He could see the path he had taken to get up to the rise, the lines through the snow of where he had dragged his feet giving him a clear indication of where he needed to go. West was down there. He would think of something. His scabbard began to tangle with legs as he moved frantically, causing him to trip several times and land face-first into the snow. Tyran glanced over his should and saw that the mound of fur had slowly turned itself around. By its sheer size he thought the creature that was looking in his direction and sniffing at the air, was a bear. An animal he had only heard tales of, as they were not found too close to the arid deserts that he called home. It was more massive and fear-provoking than he had originally imagined.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. He was about halfway to the trees when he looked back and saw that the beast was now starting to come down the hill towards him. Its thick legs pushed the snow apart quickly, and its front paws pounded on the ground before it ever now and again as it picked up speed. Tyran let out a squeal as he doubled his efforts in getting away, his hand pressed against the cold pommel of his sword in an attempt to keep it out of the way. The sound of the bear closing in was creeping up on him now, the thumping of its feet and the crackle of the snow resounding in his ears. Tyran stopped in the snow, understanding that running wasn¡¯t helping him anymore. He wasn¡¯t used to the moving through the snow and the bear was catching up to him fast. With ragged breaths he tried to grasp the hilt of his sword, but his fingers were numb with cold and were struggling to maintain a proper grip. With a glance up he could see the mass of fur-bearing down on him, the crunch of the snow beginning to sound like the breaking of bones in his head. Finally managing to get a grip on the hilt he half drew it out before a voice broke into the sounds of the snow. ¡°No weapons,¡± West called out and Tyran slammed his sword back into its scabbard, ¡°They have a soft underbelly.¡± Tyran¡¯s head raced as the bear suddenly reared up before him, arms high in the sky, casting a great shadow across him. He braced his back foot, leaned low, and drove his elbow deep into where he assumed its belly was. The fur gave way and he could feel himself striking something fleshy. The bear let out a massive burp as the air was suddenly expelled him its body and it fell forward, crashing into Tyran. The burp caused a wave of smells to wash over Tyran, various kinds of foods and the unmistakable smell of alcohol. The bear''s dead weight pushed Tyran to the ground and he tried to roll out of the way but his leg was caught. Laughter broke through the quietness that now surrounded him, as he could hear West moving out from under the trees and starting to make his way through the snow. The bear groaned and rolled away from Tyran, to lay spread-eagled in the snow. Finally free, Tyran took the opportunity to put distance between himself. ¡°Ulfgar I take it?¡± West called as he started to pull something from inside the pack on his back. "Not so loud," the bear called out, in a very human-sounding voice. ¡°What the hell¡­?¡± was all Tyran could manage to say through his shock. The figure before him sat up and pushed back the hood of what, Tyran now understood, was a huge fur cloak. The face beneath wasn¡¯t much better than the image of the bear though. Big features covered it, and vibrant red hair was everywhere. Bushy red eyebrows, a mass of red hair flowing from on top, and a huge beard which the man was now scratching. ¡°What you want from me?¡± the man gruffly directed his questions towards West, ¡°Haven¡¯t you heard I like to be alone?¡± ¡°Oh yes,¡± West uncapped the bottle he was now holding and took a swig of the clear liquid. With a satisfied ¡®Ah¡¯ he put the cap back on and continued, ¡°I heard that, but I also heard other things. And I was hoping you¡¯d like to talk to me for a bit.¡± Tyran could see that the man, who West had called Ulfgar, was eyeing the bottle greedily and licking his lips. He nodded to West and stretched his hands out, to which West easily offered up the bottle. Quickly unsealing it Ulfgar took a swig and gave a sound much like West had. ¡°Oh my, you brought the good stuff,¡± Ulfgar patted the snow beside him for West to sit, ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll talk¡­¡± Tyran crawled a little closer as the large man started to tell his story, and West sat beside him as the two of them shared the bottle of what Tyran assumed was some vodka. ¡°Not too long ago I had gone out on a hunting trip with the others from town. We were going to find a few big beasties and bring back a smokehouse full of meat. The plan was going well, everything was fine. But when I got back to town I made my way out to my homestead. I live a fair distance out of town, takes a good half-day trek to get there. We liked our solitude. ¡°But when I got out there¡­ When I got there,¡± Ulfgar hunched over further, his shoulders shaking, his voice beginning to crackle as he tried to hold back tears, ¡°When I got there I found my house open. The sounds I had expected to see were not there. And the smell that assaulted me as I got in nearly made my stomach curl. When I saw my wife and children lay in the middle of the floor, pools of blood around them, flies everywhere, I lost it. I broke down. "I found a trail from my house, and followed it, my blood aboil with rage. I was relentless, I continued, unsleeping, never stopping. And eventually I found their camp. It was Imperialists. They had sent small roving bands of men north. I don''t for the love of my land know why, there isn''t really anything up here. But I killed them all. I didn''t let a single one escape. ¡°It made my rage subside. I was just filled with sadness then. So I gathered my family up and buried them atop this hill. This is where my wife and I had loved to come when she was younger. Look out of the tops of the trees at the vast white landscape. How she loved the view,¡± tears freely fell down his face now, mixing into his beard. ¡°I know why they came,¡± West said solemnly, ¡°There was talk about it before I defected.¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯re an Imperialist?¡± Ulfgar asked with a slight shrug. ¡°I am sorry to say, friend, that I was. When I realised what was happening to the people though, I defected. Now I¡¯m trying to find a way to put a stop to this war,¡± West shook his head, ¡°But anyway. I believe they were coming in search of mineral reserves. Gold and silver to fund the war, iron to make more weapons. They would have wanted to steer clear of major towns, but a small cottage in the woods, they would not hesitate to take what they wanted and silence those who tried to stop them.¡± West rested a hand on Ulfgar¡¯s back. ¡°I am sorry.¡± ¡°You said,¡± Ulfgar looked up at West now, a slight twinkle in his eyes, ¡°you were looking for a way to stop this war?¡± ¡°Yes, I am,¡± West stood tall and offered a hand down to Ulfgar to help him up, ¡°And I would like for you to join myself and the boy, Tyran, while we seek this out.¡± Grabbing the offered hand Ulfgar brought himself up and turned the assistance into a handshake. ¡°If we can bring an end to this, then I will gladly help you.¡± * * * ¡°And so, the two men continued on their way, now with a bear as a friend,¡± the prisoner finished as Marianne wolfed down the last pieces of food from the plate. ¡°I don¡¯t really understand what you were just speaking about, but it sounded interesting,¡± she said, wiping her mouth on her sleeve to remove the last remnants of her gluttony from her face. The prisoner raised his head and let out a short laugh, ¡°I agree, I don¡¯t understand it myself. Why would a bear follow a person who it had just tried to attack? My mind is a little fuzzy on this. I¡¯ve only spoken about what I can see in my mind. I¡¯m sorry if you leave here confused.¡± Marianne politely excused herself from the prisoner and left the cell. Her mind was a flurry of activity now that the story was finished, and as soon as she had put her belongings back in her small room she took what free time she had to make her way to a library which resided on one side of the large square that fronted the Palace. No one would look for her now, so she took her time to wander around the many shelves that were covered from top to bottom in books. Ukaibe prided itself on the number of books they had and the high level of literacy they promoted throughout the country. Even maids like Marianne could read, though not to the same level as the nobles, but at a serviceable level. Eventually she found a tome which she thought might hold the answer to what she was looking for. The History of the Monarchy of Ukaibe. Marianne began flicking through, looking over hundreds of years of information on the Royal Line. Births, Deaths, Marriages, the amount of information the tome held was amazing. Marianne didn¡¯t understand the significance of most of it, but she was on the lookout for something in particular. Finally, she turned a page to see a family tree on it. Just like the first story the prisoner had told her, there were seven sons of royal blood. Looking at the date she counted back on her fingers and realised that the family tree was from around a hundred and fifty years ago. Flicking through the rest of the book to see if there was another with seven sons she could not find one. When she was sure that this was the only one she turned back to it and looked at the seventh son. ¡°So, his name was Tyran?¡± she looked across at the other name and could see they had years listed for their births and deaths, but when she inspected Tyran¡¯s entry it only listed a birth. Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand. Closing the book she placed it back on the shelf and made her way back to the Palace. The Six Loud thumping echoed through the prison beneath the palace as Marianne was hurriedly escorted through the myriad of tunnels. ¡°The man¡¯s going crazy,¡± the guard escorting her kept muttering. It wasn¡¯t her prescribed time to see the prisoner at the lowest point of the palace, but the guards impressed on her the urgency of the situation. The banging she could hear was getting louder, but it maintained a certain rhythm. She could not understand where it was coming from or why she was needed. The final corridor was packed with guards, heavily armed and armoured, facing the door she entered weekly. The guard leading her began pressing through the assembled mass, calling out for Redmond. The way began to part as they got closer to the door and Marianne could see that Redmond was standing there looking through an open slot in the door. He turned to face her as he heard the noises behind him change. ¡°Oh, thank the gods you¡¯re here Marianne,¡± his voice was tinged with worry, ¡°He¡¯s been like this since early morning. We¡¯ve tried talking to him, but he doesn¡¯t respond. It¡¯s unnerving people.¡± Redmond moved out of the way so Marianne could look through the slit in the door. Standing on her tiptoes she peered into the circular room. The prisoner wasn''t sitting in his usual position atop the mound but had instead stood up and was standing at the wall opposite the door, facing away from the door. The rhythmic sound she had heard on her way down was the prisoner slamming his forehead into the marbled walls. ¡°Oh my,¡± she gasped, ¡°Have you tried to stop him?¡± "We went in, two of us, and tried to pull him away. But we couldn''t budge him," Redmond was looking at another guard who was nodding, "We aren''t weak, but it felt like we were trying to move a stone statue.¡± She looked in again. He had smashed his head into the wall another three times since she got there. ¡°He¡¯s been doing this since morning? It¡¯s past noon!¡± she moved away from the door, straightened her dress and curtly said, ¡°Open the door, I¡¯ll do what I can.¡± The guards crowded in as the door was opened, trying to provide whatever protection they could. Or maybe it was to try and stop the prisoner if he attempted to escape. Marianne slipped through the small gap they opened and motioned for them to shut the door and close the slit. The guards complied. She knew they would not leave the corridor, but she felt a little more at ease without all the eyes on her. ¡°Hello?¡± she said in a shaky voice. The prisoner did not stop. ¡°Sir, I have come to see how you are. Would you mind talking with me?¡± He ignored her. ¡°Tyran?¡± she said in little more than a whisper. The man paused for a moment, a shudder travelling through his body. But he continued with his purpose, albeit slower, with more pause between. Marianne moved closer. She could see now that the marble was showing cracks in it. Cracks that were not there before. They radiated from where he was striking his head. A small red mark was on the wall at the epicentre of the blows, trickling down the wall slightly, blood she thought. But from what the guards had told her about how long he had been repeating this, there should be a lot more blood than this. ¡°Tyran?¡± she said again as she got closer, a little louder and more confidently. Without stopping he replied between strikes. ¡°How do you know that name?¡± his voice was low and sorrowful. ¡°I read it in a book the other day.¡± ¡°I hear it. I hear that name in my head. I don¡¯t know why¡­¡± ¡°The book said he was the seventh son of the king.¡± ¡°The story I told you?¡± ¡°Yes, I was interested so I went and looked it up,¡± she inched closer and laid a hand on his shoulder. His muscles were tense, but that was to be expected. ¡°It¡¯s not the only thing I hear. They¡¯re calling out.¡± ¡°Calling out to you?¡± ¡°No, not to me. Just calling out. To each other maybe,¡± he turned his head to face her and she noticed there was no mark on his forehead, where surely there should be some kind of wound. ¡°Why don¡¯t we sit down and talk,¡± she felt his shoulder relax and urged him towards his mound. He allowed her to guide him back to his seat and he placed himself there with poise. She sat down before him and looked into his piercing eyes, which were now etched with a haunted shadow. ¡°Tell me what you see.¡± ¡°There¡¯s six of them. No, that¡¯s not right. There¡¯s seven. But the seventh is standing apart from the others. They aren¡¯t clear, like shadows. The six are more solid though. More solid,¡± he raised his head slightly as if looking at the wall, but she could tell his eyes were looking at something more distant, something only he could see in his mind. ¡°There¡¯s a bear, like the one I told you about. Large and shaggy. Towers above the others. The air about him seems cold and uninviting. He¡¯s distant. He? It? I don¡¯t know why I said he,¡± his brow furrowed in thought, ¡°but I feel it is a he. He stands on one end. "Next to the bear it looks like a snake, or maybe some kind of lizard. It''s indistinct, blurry. They''re all blurry. Like my memory is fuzzy. My memory is fuzzy though. I don''t even know who I am. Or why I am¡­ "Beside the snake there is a, I''m unsure. A peacock maybe? It''s strutting around and showing its tail off. It seems a bit conceited, full of itself. It keeps looking at the snake and the one next to it, a lion. It seems to adore both the lion and the snake, but it''s showing off, trying to get their attention. But neither so much as glanced back at him. "On the other side of the regal-looking lion is a bird. There are bright colours, like a parrot maybe. It gives off a feel of cockiness, but not in an attention-seeking way. Water rises behind it and drops, like waves, or something else. Everything is so indistinct.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°The final one in the line is a large horse. It¡¯s huge, not as tall as the bear, but it¡¯s solid and looks like it could go and go and go and outrun the bear. There¡¯s a glint of metal around it. I don¡¯t know, the skin of the horse just seems to be glinting like metal in the sun. He¡¯s bright. "Above the six of them, the seventh one looms above them all, little more than a shadow. It feels like it''s trying to wrap them up. There are no features to it, it¡¯s just formless. And before the six people is a rock. A rock of some kind.¡± ¡°The six people?¡± Marianne interjected as he changed how he was talking. ¡°People? No, I said animals. A bear, snake, peacock, lion, parrot and horse. Just the six people with a stone before them.¡± ¡°You said people again,¡± she laid a hand on his knee and he looked her in the eyes. ¡°Did I?¡± ¡°Never mind,¡± she tried to smiley warmly at him, but it was difficult under the circumstances, "just continue. I''m interested." ¡°Before the six people is a stone. It glows. It glows a weird greenish colour. Or is it red? Or maybe blue? It keeps changing. But it glows. And the six people reach forward and put their hands on it. Then the glow rises from the stone and flows up each of their arms and into them. Then they are glowing. The shadow above them recoils. ¡°It¡¯s scared, the shadow. There¡¯s also anger in there, and hatred. It comes back and tries to wedge itself between them. It¡¯s glowing now too. But it¡¯s glowing stronger than they are singly. But when they all stand together, they glow just as bright. And it¡¯s like the two lights are trying to clash. ¡°That¡¯s not all there is though. Landscapes around are swirling and changing. Whenever I try and focus on any of the seven, I get flashes of other pictures. Little bits and pieces, but nothing complete. And then their gone, and the next time I try and focus something different appears. ¡°But the glows have moved into a closed area now. The swirling landscapes are just stone walls now¡­¡± * * * The throne room was cold and quiet. Sounds of fighting came through the windows, but they sounded distant compared to oppressiveness in the room. Blood trickled down the steps that led to the throne, pooling at the base. Tyran stood before the person who had been named Overlord by all the people, those who opposed him and those that followed him. He pushed the hilt of his sword a little further, the blade sliding into the throne itself bit by bit. The Overlord gurgled, his hands grasping at the blade which had been sunk through his heart. He reached a hand forward weakly and tried to grab Tyran about the throat. There was no power left in his fingers though and they did little more than brush against the young man¡¯s skin. Tyran leant in, bringing his face close to the once-powerful man, who jerked as more pain flowed through him. ¡°This is for West,¡± he snarled between clenched teeth, ¡°and for those who die in your streets today.¡± Grand Marshal West lay on the ground in the middle of the throne room. The side of his helmet was caved in. His sword lay beside him, his hand lifeless atop it. His breath came ragged. The blow had been struck to the side of his head while he had tried to protect Tyran from certain death. He was lucky that he caught the side of the blade and not the edge. ¡°We have defeated you,¡± he spat in the man¡¯s face, ¡°your reign ends now!¡± The battle continued to rage outside. The others had broken through the main gates or scaled over the walls. Ulfgar had been positioned to use his considerable strength to smash the heavy wooden gates with his fists. Once the gates were down Maldoren led a charge of cavalry through the streets, sweeping the Imperial soldiers away in swathes. A horse¡¯s whinny came to his ears telling him his friends were close. The man laughed weakly, his strength fading further as time dragged on. He smiled at Tyran and Tyran could see a cruel light in his eyes. ¡°Boy,¡± he said between spittle¡¯s of blood, ¡°nothing is over.¡± Tyran leant in again and the Overlord¡¯s back arched, but he couldn¡¯t move with the sword stabbed through him into the wooden chair he sat upon. ¡°This is only another beginning.¡± ¡°What could you mean?¡± Tyran¡¯s face was now covered in blood as the man was staring him directly in the eyes. His physical strength may have faded but the light in his eyes scared Tyran. ¡°The cycle continues. Once it turns around you think it¡¯s stopped, but it only turns around and around again.¡± ¡°You speak in riddles old man!¡± The way he spoke reminded Tyran of Tree-Walker, a beautiful tan-skinned warrior maiden from the jungles whom he had fallen for. She barely even glances at him, but he could not keep his eyes off her. Her part in the plan had been scaling the walls. Her warriors, and those of the pirate Amadeus, were adept at moving through unusual terrain. There would be casualties suffered, but they would have been over the walls much quicker than a conventional siege. They entered the city from the opposite direction to Ulfgar and Maldoren, forcing the soldiers stationed on the walls to split their defences. No mere soldier would be a match for any of them. They would lose their own soldiers, for sure, but overall the battle would swing in their favour as they mowed down the enemy. All of this had been but a distraction though. Taking the castle''s eyes away from the true attack. Tyran and West had had the job of entering through the underground passages. Tyran¡¯s skills had made it easier, allowing them to get through areas they would have otherwise not been able to. All so they could reach the Overlord, unattended, or as close to as possible. There had only been a few sparse guards as they ran through the corridors. Only to come face to face with their target in the throne room. Damage to the floor and walls showed the power which had been on display in the fight. Tapestries hung torn, windows and floor tiles smashed beyond recognition, debris littering the floor in every corner. All for it to end like this. With Tyran driving his sword through the Overlord¡¯s heart. ¡°One of you will become like me,¡± the man laughed again. ¡°Never!¡± Tyran screamed at his face. ¡°You can¡¯t avoid it. It is inevitable. One of you will become like me. And you cannot stop it.¡± The last light fled from his eyes, and the last breath escaped his lungs, as the doors burst open. Tyran¡¯s allies entered the room, rushing over to either West or Tyran. They rolled West over and removed his helm. Ulfgar banged a fist on his chest and the man on the ground spluttered and coughed. ¡°He yet lives!¡± he exclaimed in a gruff voice. Amadeus grabbed Tyran by the shoulders and pulled him away from the corpse of the man who used to be the Overlord. He pried his hands lose from the hilt of the sword and moved him away from the throne. ¡°Aye lad. Ye¡¯ve done it,¡± Amadeus¡¯ way of speaking always confused Tyran a bit, but it seemed to be a common way for sailors to talk, ¡°Ye scuttled ¡®im. We can all begin pickin¡¯ up th¡¯ pieces o¡¯ our lives now¡± * * * ¡°The shadow seemed to fall, but it¡¯s still there, waiting. The glow has left it though. It¡¯s gone back into the stone. Back into the stone? Why would the glow go into the stone? Why would it come out of the stone? What is the stone?¡± The prisoner trailed off his thoughts as Marianne patted his hands. ¡°It¡¯s okay now. Just relax. I¡¯ll be back tomorrow.¡± "And I''ll be here, same as always," he smiled at her. A smile that reached his eyes and made the strangeness of the last hour seem to fade away. "Forget what I''ve told you, it''s not worth it." ¡°It¡¯s good to get it out,¡± she smiled at him as she knocked on the door to be let out, ¡°and I¡¯ll be here to listen whenever you need me to. Just don¡¯t try to destroy the walls anymore, okay?¡± He grunted and turned away from the door as the guard opened it and all but dragged her out of the cell. She looked at him and felt he was back to his old stoic self, sitting on the mound, waiting for her return. ¡°He¡¯s stopping right?¡± Redmond inquired when they got the door shut again. ¡°Yes, I believe he is,¡± the guard that brought her down nodded at her and motioned to come back upstairs with him. As she walked past, she could hear the guards murmuring to each other. ¡°He¡¯s never done anything like this before.¡± ¡°He¡¯s always just been so quiet.¡± ¡°Everything was fine until she showed up, she¡¯s done something to him.¡± ¡°Shh, she¡¯s still here. She calmed him down and that¡¯s what matters.¡± She tried to ignore the comments and their voices droned on as a small buzz in the back of her mind. New information was flooding in from what she had heard him say. Marianne was sure that she could find something relating to his story. Six heroes? The animals? Whatever it was it was bound to be interesting. She felt the free time she was given for doing this job had helped ignite a fire inside her to learn new things, and this man was a mystery waiting to be solved.