《Dragons of Dark Rebellion in A World of Essence》 Prologue - Valoryn
Twenty Years Ago Dust from the road coated his old black, tattered cloak. Its deep hood swallowed his face in shadow, hiding him from the warm, soft glow of the city. Music floated through the streets where neighbors drank and danced, laughed and hugged, and cried. And nowhere did it seem the celebration would come to an early end. A young man knelt before a girl, slipping a ring over her finger. She smiled and pulled him back on his feet, kissing him with all the fierceness of a young woman in love. Behind them an old man played a fiddle to the clapping and singing of young and old alike waving their flagons overhead, spilling ale onto themselves and their fellows. It was the same all over Lumenos. Raw emotion, bottled within the hearts of thousands, erupting all at once. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder how it would all be remembered. How much would be lost as the sun rose and fell again and again and again. How much would they remember and how many would know the truth? He pulled his hood up further, ignoring the song and dance, and steered his horse down the Avenue of Kings. It wasn¡¯t long before the crowded street brought him to a wall running perpendicular alongside the road. His grip on the reins tightened as he glared at its smooth, pale gray surface. Ask any other man what he saw and likely he¡¯d tell you it was just a wall. Nothing out of the ordinary. He wouldn¡¯t notice the lack of battlements along the top or the emptiness overhead where towers would have oversaw the defense. If you pointed out the single gateway he might find it odd. But then again the Lycan district wasn¡¯t so big. Why build more than one? And if pressed on how he¡¯d defend a wall so narrow you couldn¡¯t properly man a troop on its top he¡¯d shake his head and shrug. What did it matter? Of course.What did it matter?It always came to that. He could understand an Arloni saying something so dull. But what of his own people? Was he the only one who resented their fate? Did their history not mean something to them? He sneered at theLycania Portapassing overhead. Chiseled out of marble, a pair ofLycanseach held out a sword before them, pointing them directly at the sky while holding onto another, grounding the points into black foundations at their feet, crossing the hilts with each other to form the open gateway. Any child growing up behind them would likely never have known an iron gate once stood in their place, barring them from the rest of the city. They¡¯d only seeLycans, tall and proud, wielding great swords, standing defiantly against the tide, sheltering their brothers and sisters. Those children would dream and be none the wiser. No matter how pretty you made the lock on the door, a cage was still a cage. Like the rest of Lumenos the Lycan district was alive. Delcairans danced and sang and cheered beneath a warm glow spilling into the streets through open windows and lamps that lined the narrow cobbled road. Ignoring them as well, he pressed on, fighting the urge to liquefy the statues and reduce the wall to dust. At the heart of the district stood the home of the Sunsworn. He led his horse toward a pair of guards leaning upon their spears in front of the main gate, sipping wine from a bottle they shared between themselves. ¡°Is it wise to drink on duty?¡± he asked. One of them paused to wipe his mouth with the back of his sleeve. ¡°Ahh, don¡¯t worry, man¡± the guard said. A hint of a slur in his voice. ¡°Nothing¡¯s gonna happen tonight of all nights.¡± ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡± the other guard grunted. He dismounted before them and lowered his hood. ¡°Nothing, really.¡± The guard¡¯s eyes lit up as they fell upon him. For a moment nothing happened. Then suddenly the guard straightened his back and whipped his hands together, forming a sharp salute. His companion was only a moment slower and quickly hid the wine. ¡°L-Lord Valoryn,¡± the guard stammered. ¡°Please, forgive my rudeness. I meant no offense, my lord.¡± ¡°Uh, welcome home, my lord.¡± The second one followed. ¡°None taken,¡± he said as they rushed to open the gate. He glanced at the tall building coming into view between the doors and considered expanding his Perception but decided not to risk it. Not when he was this close. ¡°Would either of you happen to know if the council is present?¡± ¡°Oh yes, lord,¡± one of the guards responded quickly. ¡°They¡¯re holding assembly tonight. Been going on ever since the news arrived.¡± A young boy came running across the courtyard to take his horse as he strode through the gate. He handed off the reins and looked back over his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll overlook the wine. But you¡¯ll have to finish the rest of that bottle for me.¡± He watched as they closed the gate behind him, smiling as they clapped each other on the shoulder. It felt strange coming back after so many years in the field. Everything looked as it did the day he marched his legion out of Lumenos. A large, properly kept courtyard. A storehouse connected to a smithy where even now a rhythmic beating echoed distantly. And a long row of stables beside the gate. On the far side of the courtyard a wide tower, ringed in old Delcairan styled columns, reared into the sky like a hand with five smaller towers displayed above like fingers. Every other column supported a vertical flag. Either Lucidia¡¯s nine pointed red sun on a field of white or the Sunsworn¡¯s coat of arms, aLycanandDragon¡¯shead placed back to back in front of a rising sun. Essencestones supported by low hanging chandeliers illuminated the tower¡¯s main hall in a vibrant light that displayed every corner of the ground floor. Brothers and Sisters packed the hall and stopped in mid conversation as he walked by. His name followed him even after he found the stairwell he wanted and only began to fade as he climbed the long flight of stairs leading him to the top of the main tower. A narrow hallway extended in either direction as he took his last step, lit by a row of flickering lamps fixed along the wall just below the ceiling. A hushed silence griped the air, exaggerating the sound of his slow and shallow breathing. Shadows danced over elaborate tapestry, broken only by the busts of long deceased kings resting on pedestals and grand paintings of pitched battles and religious tales secured in gilded frames. He followed the hallway until it brought him to the other side of the tower where a lone guard stood beside a pair of wide, ornately carved wooden doors. He offered Brother Eadyn a tired grin as he approached. If his sudden appearance was a shock it didn¡¯t show in his old friend¡¯s deeply brown eyes. ¡°Lord Valoryn,¡± the guard said warmly, giving him a perfect salute. ¡°Congratulations on your victory! I never lost faith in you, sir. Even after your defeat at Fela¡¯nycom. He folded his arms beneath his cloak and nodded at the door. ¡°Are they all in there?¡± ¡°Almost,¡± Eadyn said, shaking his head. ¡°Lady Galoria is absent but the rest are accounted for.¡± His friend smiled, looking him over proudly. ¡°They¡¯ve been in there all day. Winning the war must have really caught them by surprise.¡± He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Eight of the nine. Far better than what he¡¯d expected. Theessencecirculating between his body and soul surged without conscious effort. When he opened them again, a line creased Eadyn¡¯s brow. ¡°My lord?¡± He raised his hand. Before his friend could say another word a red ball ofessenceerupted from his palm. Eadyn¡¯s face crumpled with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered across the wall where a painting hung. His body stumbled, smearing over aLycanliberating slaves from theirDragonmaster as he slumped to the floor. He took a deep breath as he wiped the blood from his face, and slipped through the double doors without sparing Eadyn¡¯s lifeless body a second glance. A lush Kobari carpet hid the sound of his approach. The elders sat in high backed chairs arranged along a crescent table before a wall of stained glass windows discussing heatedly over neat stacks of papers and a large detailed map of Lucidia and its neighbors carved into the table¡¯s surface. Pieces grouped on the map indicated troop locations. A pitiful few were of the southern legions. The rest belonged to the North Lords, concentrating around a single city where a lone southern legion stood. ¡°Lord Valoryn!¡± One of the elders exclaimed. ¡°When did you-¡± ¡°I know about the Conduit,¡± he said sharply. A hint of anger crept into his voice. The chamber grew still. No one spoke until an elder cleared his throat as he scribbled on a sheet of paper. ¡°It¡¯s quite a miracle to have you safely return after that horribly long siege but the strain of it has clearly had its toll. Perhaps a long rest is in order. The man who finally brought an end to this madness certainly deserves it.¡± The old man dismissed him with a curt flick of his wrist. Not once did he look up from his writing to address him. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°I met the Hargonians,¡± he said. ¡°They told me everything.¡± The elder glanced at him then, arching his brow, and grimaced. The others exchanged wary glances. No one spoke again for a long moment. He saw it on their faces. Defiance. Fear. Hesitation. They all wanted to deny it. But the blood red color of his soul radiating from his eyes told them it was pointless. Abruptly the silence folded. ¡°Their words are poison, young lord,¡± one said. ¡°Hatred passed down for generations have driven them mad beyond reason.¡± ¡°They could not have told you everything,¡± said another. He chuckled dryly and bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. ¡°They did more than that,¡± he said. ¡°I saw the lands of Hargon with my own eyes. I saw its people.Ourpeople. They¡¯re not the monsters you told me they were.¡± The elders fidgeted in their seats. Several bowed their heads refusing to meet his eyes. ¡°My lord,¡± another pleaded. ¡°I understand the thoughts that must be troubling you but now is not the time for this. We can discuss it later.¡± ¡°No, Coryn¡± another elder said, rising to his feet. The old man¡¯s eyes glowed a deep red. ¡°It¡¯s too late for him. This is what they do. They find the weakest among us and strike when we¡¯re most vulnerable. I¡¯m sorry, Valoryn. But we¡¯ll have to confine you to a cell for now.¡± Regardless of what they said he¡¯d long since resolved himself to what he was about to do. The elder anticipated him but he was faster. He flicked his wrist and the man exploded in a red burst of light. To their credit none of them panicked. In their disbelief some were slower than others. But they all rose against him. Several fired off balls ofessencefrom their palms. He deflected one with his bare hand toward an elder who erupted in flames as it ruptured over his chest and dodged several more, allowing them to strike the wall behind him. They blasted through wood and stone setting the hallway beyond ablaze. He closed the gap between them by leaping across the chamber, landing on the other side of the crescent table. A backhanded swing of his fist tore the jaw off an elder barely a moment before he spun and kicked another in the chest, shattering a window as the elder hurtled into the darkness above the city. Two more threw out their hands. Blood redessencestreaked as lightning from their fingertips. He took the lightning head on, laughing at the weakness behind their attack. Brushing it aside he grabbed one of them by the arm and swung him around to collide into the other. As if the elder were lighter than a feather, he lifted him above his head, wielding his body like a club, and beat the other man who had fallen to the floor furiously until they could no longer be recognized as men. Blood trickled down his face and soaked the front of his shirt. None of it was his. He turned on the remaining two elders. One took a step back. ¡°How?¡± the elder cried incredulously. ¡°We¡¯re all at the peak of the fifth World. Never mind that you¡¯re just one man. It makes no sense!¡± He regarded the elder silently for a moment before he smiled and spread his hands. ¡°I¡¯ve always been stronger than you.¡± The elder lunged, a frustrated scream ripping from his throat. The force of the man¡¯s blow toppled several more walls past the hallway outside where the fire was quickly spreading. He stepped inside the elder¡¯s punch and forced his palm underneath the man¡¯s chin. Then, sweeping his feet from under him he brought the elder down, crushing his throat and smashing the elder¡¯s skull against the carpeted floor. He stood and confronted the last remaining elder, blood dripping from his hand. ¡°Coryn,¡± he said. ¡°I can see in your eyes the color of your soul, but you make no move against me. I take it you¡¯ve given up.¡± The other man shook his head. ¡°No,¡± Coryn said. ¡°It¡¯s just too hard to believe. How can I raise my hand against you when I raised you myself? You¡¯re like a son to me.¡± ¡°A son?¡± He sneered. ¡°Is that supposed to make you my father? Tell me then,¡± anger bled through his tone. ¡°What kind of father hides the truth from his son?¡± ¡°This anger isn¡¯t yours. It¡¯stheirs. You have to see that.¡± ¡°No!¡± He shouted. ¡°How can we celebrate our freedom when the King still has the Conduit? Our people are at the mercy of the Arloni and they don¡¯t even know it.¡± Coryn remained silent for a moment. His jaw clenched. ¡°What is it you think you can do? The Hargonians have never been able to take it back. And they can¡¯t protect you while you¡¯re here all alone. The man I raised was never so foolish.¡± ¡°Oh, Coryn,¡± he said. ¡°Protection?I don¡¯t need anyone¡¯s protection. You¡¯re way of thinking is much too narrow. But that isn¡¯t your fault. You were bred and raised in captivity just like me. However, I¡¯ve grown further than anything we were both led to believe. ¡°For example, did you know the peak of the fifth World is not the end of cultivation? There exists a World beyond that of an Essence Ruler!¡± He concentrated hisessencefurther, gathering his full strength, filling his body to its absolute limit. Coryn retreated several steps, bowing under the pressure he exerted. Utter shock displayed clearly on his old weathered face. ¡°It can¡¯t be,¡± Coryn said, breathlessly. ¡°You asked me just now what it is I think I can do. The better question would have been what is there that I cannot. Where everyone before me has failed, I certainly will prevail.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Coryn said. ¡°So that¡¯s how it is.¡± The elder forced himself upright and stepped forward with obvious difficulty. From his hand held at his side a bar ofessencesprang out from between his fingers, as red and glowing as a sword pulled from a forge. ¡°As a cultivator,¡± Coryn said. ¡°I have no complaints. As a man who raised you I couldn¡¯t be more proud. I wish you good fortune Valoryn, but as an elder of the Sunsworn I still have a duty to uphold.¡± For the briefest moment he hesitated. Like a man underwater struggling to breathe, the resolve he¡¯d piled high with a mountain of blood and steel faltered as it threatened to collapse, burying him under its crushing weight. He bit his lip hard, tasting the bitter iron of his blood, and copied the old man, forming an essence blade of his own. The fight was over as quickly as it started. He wept over Coryn¡¯s body. Dull brown eyes stared aimlessly, twisted in frozen pain. Shouts echoed from the hallway outside. Wiping his tears he pushed himself to his feet, pulling his cloak¡¯s hood over his head, hiding his face again in shadow, and walked into the flames. It wasn¡¯t long after when he found himself sitting on the edge of a nearby rooftop. Rain fell in gentle waves like tears rolling down his cheeks, doing nothing to put out the fire twisting and lashing out at the night, spewing clouds of smoke that choked the starlight sky and cloaked the Lycan district in an eerily haunting glow. He watched the blaze consume the Sunsworn¡¯s head quarters, remembering the faces of his Brothers and Sisters. They had loved him.Reveredhim even. And just like a weak flame can be so easily snuffed out by a passing wind so did their love as he killed them one by one. None had escaped. ¡°Well done.¡± He turned and saw a man clothed all in black emerge from the darkness. ¡°They will trouble us no more,¡± the man said. ¡°Galoria wasn¡¯t there,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t know where she is.¡± ¡°She was at the palace guarding the young princess. For a mere fifth World Essence Ruler she offered a marvelous resistance. But in the end we got what we came for. Those two belong to us now.¡± He couldn¡¯t see the man¡¯s face but he heard the smile in his voice. ¡°Our god is quite pleased by the results. You should take some pride in that, Valoryn.¡± Coryn¡¯s face before his death surfaced in the back of his mind, along with his words.I couldn¡¯t be more proud of you. He clenched his jaw and said nothing. The man chuckled dryly like autumn leaves crumbling. ¡°A new age is about to claw its way over the horizon. It won¡¯t be much longer now. If you still desire to be a part of it, then I suggest embracing that change. When the Heavenly Demon sets his eyes on something he does not so easily take them off. Nor does he forgive weakness. Of any kind.¡± The man paused, waiting for a response. When none came the man continued. ¡°Return to Hargon. Free yourself of the past and train. Your cultivation is much too low and there remains still a lot of work to do.¡± He rose and inclined his head slightly toward the man in black. ¡°Thank you for the advice, Caster. I¡¯ll prepare the world for our coming. The Hargonians will be ready.¡± ¡°Good. I expect no less of one chosen by Him to serve as one of his Heralds.¡± When Caster stepped back into the darkness and disappeared without another word he resumed his seat on the rooftop and stayed a while longer, watching the fire reduce his past to ash and fill the air with smoke. After some time he finally rose and turned his back on the burning heart of the Lycan district. It was time to leave it all behind. He was Sunsworn no longer. Chapter 1 - Saul ¡°He dies today!¡± Taren grabbed his arm but he pulled himself free, raising his voice even louder. ¡°Him and that dumb cunt brother,¡± he sneered. ¡°And that fucking brute Kalys Murk. I¡¯ll kill them all and finally wash my hands of this miserable hell.¡± Taren hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning just loud enough for him to hear over the murmuring of the crowd. No one spoke that way about the Master of Arms. Even less so about the twins. ¡°Can they even face me man to man? All they know how to do is piss themselves like cowards if they have no pack of dogs to hide behind.¡± He shoved his way through the crowd, earning himself a few glares and pointed looks, and hopped lightly onto a wooden bench on the far side on the street. Taren followed closely apologizing to the villagers he bumped into along the way. ¡°Sometimes I think you¡¯re a lot smarter than you are.¡± Taren said, readjusting his travel sack. His dark blue eyes flicked back and forth underneath his long blonde hair. On the other side of the crowd a dozen young men and women lounged at the base of a large wooden stage where a lone guardsman stood beside a pair of identical twins. His fists clenched and unclenched at the sight of their golden heads. ¡°We both know you¡¯re not a killer. So stop pretending already.¡± He took a deep breath and slid his gaze away from the stage. ¡°What do you know about me?¡± Taren hesitated. He stopped eyeing the crowd and fixed him with a pointed stare. ¡°Saul, I¡¯m serious. Don¡¯t do this.¡± He hopped off the bench and came in close to the young man until their foreheads nearly butted. ¡°You never said a thing all these years as I bled every day, breaking every bone in my body. You knew this day would come. And now you dare to stop me? What kind of a brother are you?¡± Taren winced as though he¡¯d jabbed him with a straight punch to the jaw. He waited for another one of his brother¡¯s excuses but when none came he folded his arms beneath his cloak and took Taren¡¯s silence as him finally giving up. Suddenly Taren grabbed his shoulders in both hands, gripping them tightly. His voice trembled in a way he¡¯d never heard before. ¡°It¡¯s hardly been a month since you broke into the first World. If you fight them now you¡¯ll die!¡± The fear in Taren¡¯s voice brushed over his will. He grimaced and steeled himself. As if his brother¡¯s lack of confidence was not enough he even had the gall to state the outcome as if his fate had already been decided. He curled his right hand into a fist and clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together. If another moment passed with his brother¡¯s hands still on him he would have broken Taren¡¯s nose but a movement in the crowd drew his attention back to the task at hand. He smiled. Kalys Murk returned his smile with an ugly, crooked grin. ¡°Ahh, the little mutt finally bares its fangs,¡± Kalys said. ¡°I always knew you¡¯d do something stupid like this.¡± Taren dropped his hands and moved out of the way, cursing under his breath. Kalys stood taller than either of them. He tucked his thumbs behind a wide leather belt that hid mostly beneath his gut. Although he¡¯d grown fat over the years, his past lived on as deep scars crisscrossing his meaty hands and forearms. His biceps bulged through his coat and his shoulders were wide as mountains with long blonde hair slicked back and streaked with white hugging them like clouds. He peered down at them with a pair of narrow blue eyes from underneath a heavy brow and set above a wide square jaw that jutted out like a cliff. He stood close enough that his nose burned when the man spoke. It was only the middle of the day but the Master of Arms had been drinking all morning. ¡°I didn¡¯t think my words would travel that fast. This crowd sure likes to gossip,¡± he said. Kalys hefted a thick metal studded bludgeon from his belt and bounced the tip of it on his palm. ¡°I¡¯d flatten that shit stained head of yours but our young lords would like a word.¡± A hint of regret behind the man¡¯s gravelly tone made his smile grow into a smirk. He offered Kalys a mocking bow which got him a scowl and a flash of yellow crooked teeth. Taren fell in beside him as Kalys led them back to the large wooden stage. A silence broken by a gust of wind whipping a flag back and forth hung over the crowd when he stopped in front of the twins. They were young men, a little older than him. And tall. Perhaps a little over six feet. A good several inches taller than him. And they were blonde with hair as yellow as gold and long and thin as if spun by the most talented craftsmen. In every sense of the word the young lords were handsome, so long as no one bothered to look over their pretty smiles and fine clothes at the ugly rot and decay beneath the surface. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but notice the stage,¡± he said. The twins smirked in unison. Jon Albryte studied him with eyes as cold and blue as a thin sheet of ice covering a lake in winter and set into a pale face with angles that could have cut stone. His twin brother Barin circled him like a beast eyeing its prey. ¡°Did you think it was for you, mutt? Someone who couldn¡¯t even break into the first World has no business thinking about the sword skill tournament.¡± Barin sized him up and jabbed a finger into his chest. ¡°And trash like you shouldn¡¯t dare utter threats against his betters.¡± It struck him as odd how he could have ever feared the young lord. Barin had always been a weak little boy, even after gaining power. His urges were cruel and his bearing too conceited. It made him sick how someone like that could ever be allowed to walk around a free man. He could have easily snatched that finger and twisted it but he wanted to savor the moment. Let it build until it was ready for the proper time to let it all fall down around their golden crowns. ¡°A Dragon doesn¡¯t soil his reputation by falling for the taunts of a wolf,¡± Jon said smoothly. ¡°But there may be a reason behind his confidence.¡± Barin glanced back at his twin with a tilt of his head. ¡°How long ago did he become an Essence Practitioner?¡± ¡°What!¡± Barin spun around and scrutinized him closely before barking out a laugh. Jon shook his head and chided him. ¡°Your essence perception needs training.¡± ¡°Fuck off,¡± Barin said with a flick of his wrist. ¡°His cultivation is so small I just didn¡¯t notice it at first.¡± ¡°Cultivation isn¡¯t everything,¡± he said, interrupting the young lords. ¡°Let me show you.¡± He moved toward the stage before they could say another word. Kalys reached out for him but he ducked the big man and swept his legs, toppling him onto his back. Kalys cursed and rolled quickly back to his feet. But he was already vaulting himself over the edge of the stage before the man could stop him. He turned around and eyed the twins coldly. ¡°Get up here. Now.¡± Barin gaped. If Jon felt shocked by his unusual behavior the young lord kept it hidden from his face. Kalys shouted at his men. His cheeks were flushed and spittle flew from his lips as he waived vigorously toward the stage. He turned to face them as they climbed the steps and smiled at the caution in their eyes. ¡°Stop right there!¡± The guards hesitated as a young woman brushed by them, glancing between her and Kalys with uncertainty. She stepped gracefully across the stage and stopped just in front of him. She came up to his chin and frowned up at him, unfazed by the difference in their height. He stared down his nose at her, wondering what Cera Albryte wanted with him. Short blonde hair framed a small heart shaped face with pale green eyes that held his gaze for several moments before she grunted softly and turned on her heel to stab a finger at the twins. ¡°How could you let a mere first Worlder ¨C and a peasant ¨C talk to you like that? He needs to learn his place or people will laugh at us behind our backs.¡± ¡°Some of us already do,¡± he said. ¡°Quiet¡± she snapped, glancing back at him sharply. ¡°There¡¯s a limit to how arrogant you can be.¡± He chuckled and folded his arms. ¡°I didn¡¯t let him do anything, Cera.¡± Barin said hotly. ¡°If he wants to die so badly I¡¯ll remind him of the difference between us right now.¡± ¡°I have a better idea,¡± Jon said, stepping between the two Albrytes. ¡°Let¡¯s have our cousin here test whether he¡¯s qualified for the sword skill tournament. If he wishes to fight so badly he can do it there with the rest of us.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Cera said. ¡°I was already here to test the other peasants. What¡¯s one more?¡± She sighed and planted herself in the middle of the stage. ¡°You should consider yourself lucky for getting off so easily. I don¡¯t care about trivial matters like propriety. If I want someone dead, they die.¡± ¡°You know, I never disliked you Cera,¡± he said. ¡°But you¡¯re in my way.¡± She snorted and pointed her chin at a rack of wooden practice swords off to the side. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± ¡°No need,¡± he said. ¡°I brought my own.¡± Her brow furrowed when he unclasped his cloak and tossed it aside. On his hip he had strapped a short undecorated saber. He drew it casually and held it up under the sun. It gleamed as the light danced upon its polished surface. ¡°The testing uses wood,¡± she said. ¡°You won¡¯t need a real sword.¡± ¡°I prefer it this way.¡± Cera tilted her head back and frowned. ¡°You never had guts like this before. I guess even a dog that¡¯s been beaten its whole life will bare its fangs sooner or later.¡± She smiled at him suddenly, a gleeful, predatory smile that ignored everything else around it as she lurched forward, whipping out her own saber and slashing it across his eyes. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.????He stepped back, feeling the air brush past his face. She followed immediately with an overhand strike from above that became a swift thrust aimed at his heart. His blade took the brunt of her stab and deflected it just enough for it to graze his shoulder as he twisted away. At the sight of first blood her smile deepened and her strikes grew faster like a sudden burst of wind. She spun, slashing her saber over his throat and spun again, dropping and aiming to cripple one of his legs. He parried low to save his leg and slid back as her strike reared like a snake in the grass and almost bit him in the throat. If he hadn¡¯t stepped back in time her saber would have pierced the bottom of his jaw and exploded out the back of his skull. Cera laughed, a lighthearted sweet melody that perfectly suited how amused she looked at that moment. No doubt she thought she could kill him whenever she pleased. He smiled softly as she appraised him with a mockingly respectful look in her eyes. ¡°Not bad for a first Worlder,¡± she said. ¡°But an Essence Practitioner can only do so much against an Essence Channeler, even if I don¡¯t manifest the form of my soul. Running is the only thing you can do. And you can¡¯t even do that very well.¡± He glanced over his shoulder. She¡¯d backed him into a corner. Evidently she didn¡¯t think he¡¯d jump and carry the fight into the street, not that he would, but he played along with her assumption. ¡°Well, you¡¯re not entirely wrong,¡± he said slowly. ¡°A second World Essence Channeler like you should be able to handle me without exerting much effort. But that¡¯s only if I were kind enough to give you the moment you need to manifest your soul. Besides that? The gap between our cultivation isn¡¯t actually that far apart.¡± Her smile faltered and she frowned, wary for the first time since she stepped onto the stage. ¡°I could be manifesting it right now,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re not.¡± She blinked, taken aback by his certainty. ¡°I¡¯ve trained with essence perception just as much, if not even more, than I have with a sword,¡± he explained. ¡°The essence flowing in you looks to be about that of a first realm, second Worlder. Like I said, the gap isn¡¯t far because I¡¯m in the eighth realm of the first World.¡± She scowled and took a step back, squaring her shoulders, leveling her saber in front of her as though threatened by how clearly he could see through her. ¡°If I remember correctly,¡± he said. ¡°The tournament you were going on about has one important rule. You can¡¯t manifest your soul. Because it¡¯s not a tournament of power, it¡¯s a tournament of skill. Anyone with enough time and resources can cultivate essence, but skill takes hard work and perseverance.¡± He walked calmly toward her, staring into her pale green eyes. ¡°By the way,¡± he said. ¡°This is the first time we¡¯ve fought since we were kids, sparing in the manor¡¯s courtyard. You weren¡¯t very good back then. Let me show you the proper way to cut your opponent.¡± Cera watched intently as he lunged, striking her from above, and gasped when her parry missed. His blade swerved at the last moment, sliding along the thin surface of her saber in the opposite motion of her parry and traveled all the way down to the hilt where it bit deep into her forearm. He frowned, feeling his blade grind against bone, failing to cut all the way through. Perhaps it was instinctive, or maybe it was a reflex aided by the strength of her cultivation, but Cera recoiled from the strike enough to save her arm. The silence in the crowd burst as dozens of people holding their breaths gasped collectively. Cera shuddered, eyeing the trail of blood running down her arm. ¡°Would this be the first time you¡¯ve seen your own blood?¡± he said coldly. ¡°I wonder how many other people had to shed theirs for you instead.¡± Her eyes bulged. She gaped but he didn¡¯t offer her a chance to speak. The essence flowing in her began to rise and peak like a storm. ¡°Didn¡¯t I just say I wouldn¡¯t let you manifest your soul? Cera!¡± He broke her concentration by targeting her wounded arm. Their sabers clashed and she bit off a curse as the storm broke as quickly as it rose. She couldn¡¯t effectively use her off hand and it weighed her down as she didn¡¯t know how to handle it. Sweat beaded on her brow. Her breathing came out ragged. He spun his saber, abandoning precision for dramatic swirls and over the top flourishes. She parried again and again until he spun around her and smacked her in the back of her knees with the blunt edge of his blade. He caught her as she stumbled forward by grabbing a fist full of her short blonde hair. She swung wildly until he tossed his blade and grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her back. Her saber clattered onto the wooden stage where she kneeled. ¡°Pathetic. Is this all a second Worlder amounts to? Weren¡¯t you going to kill me, Cera?¡± He let her go and kicked her between her shoulders. To her credit she didn¡¯t cry out. Instead she hunched over her knees and cradled her injured arm, sobbing quietly. ¡°I wasn¡¯t here for you anyway,¡± he said. ¡°Get off the stage.¡± He turned away and looked over the crowd. The faces looking back stared wide eyed and muttered to each other, shaking their heads as if they couldn¡¯t believe what he¡¯d just done. Taren was no where he could find but the twins were not hard to spot. Other than the way Jon¡¯s eyes narrowed as they studied him, his pale face remained impassive. Barin on the other hand paced back and forth, looking up at him with a wild rage that could melt his twin¡¯s icy glare. ¡°Come on, Barin,¡± he called out. ¡°I couldn¡¯t care less about your stupid tournament. Let¡¯s get it over with right here. Right now.¡± Barin stomped over to the stairs but stopped when a shrill voice cut through the air. ¡°Peasant! I¡¯ll kill you!¡± He spun, looking back at Cera who now stood, still cradling her arm, staring at him with undisguised hatred. The essence in her swelled and burst before he could stop her. Her soul manifested in a column of light that swirled around her, starting from the stage¡¯s wooden floor and disappearing above her head. He cursed. His skill was nothing small but a fight with a Dragon was well beyond him. The light flashed and as quickly as it appeared it vanished, revealing a seven foot tall monster in Cera¡¯s place. He scrambled off the stage and fled into the crowd. A bare several moments passed before a shadow fell over him. Pain exploded through his shoulder as Cera threw him onto the cobblestones. He flipped several times, scrapping his face against the uneven stones. The air vanished from his lungs and when he rolled onto his back he gasped. He fumbled at his empty scabbard and looked up at Cera who loomed over him like a golden tower. The afternoon light danced on her scales as she raised one of her hands to the side. A green flame blossomed in her palm and a long sword emerged from the fire until the hilt dropped into her hand. He hated Cera at that moment. She was about to render everything meaningless! All that he had suffered through to get to that point would have all been for nothing. He balled his fists, reaching for more power, but the essence coursing through him reached its limit and wouldn¡¯t break. Was he really going to die here? He looked up at her. A pale green fire flickered inside her slanted eyes that looked nothing like a human¡¯s. Her sword moved faster than he would have thought possible. Goosebumps flashed over his neck as the force of her blow hit with a strong blast of cold wind. He blinked. Her sword stopped, quivering only inches from his neck. It struggled to bite his flesh. But another sword, one much smaller than hers and leveled over his shoulder, held it in place. ¡°A beheading goes a little too far. Don¡¯t you think?¡± Cera hissed and pulled back, releasing her soul. An old man standing over him sheathed his sword and offered a hand. He took it without any thought and instantly regretted it. The old man¡¯s grey eyes crinkled as he smiled and patted him on the shoulder but he knew later that there would be no more smiles for a while. ¡°It doesn¡¯t concern you, Silvertree.¡± Cera said, seething with anger about to boil over again. ¡°His father is an old friend who I¡¯m very much indebted to. How can I not be concerned?¡± ¡°This peasant dared insult me and threaten murder against my family. He¡¯s earned his death and I¡¯m well within my right to kill him.¡± ¡°Oh, is that so?¡± the old man said. Cera scowled and took a deep breath when Jon interrupted. ¡°We Albrytes are not known for bullying the weak,¡± he said loudly. ¡°A fight should end when a winner is clearly decided. Whatever grievance we have can be addressed at a later date.¡± Cera began to protest but Jon cut her off with a slap that echoed through the air over the now silent crowd. She held her face and gaped in disbelief at her cousin. ¡°Who told you to manifest your soul?¡± Jon scolded her. ¡°Could you really not win against a first World peasant without it? It¡¯s your loss.¡± The old man nodded his agreement and took his arm, leading him away from the crowd speaking wildly in hushed whispers. Taren reappeared, red faced and breathing heavily. He joined them, handing him the sword he¡¯d thrown away on the stage, and thanked the old man who curtly cut him off. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear it,¡± the man said. ¡°Your father has been waiting months for you two to come back. And as you both should very well know by now, he doesn¡¯t have much time.¡± Chapter 2 - Saul Thunder boomed and faded slowly as rain trickled down the small, glass paneled window beside the door that separated them from an empty narrow street where villagers hugged the sides of homes, shielded from the rain by several feet of slanted roof extending out into the air. A mass of gray cloud swelled and churned overhead, snuffing out the sun and sowing a nocturnal gloom as it swept through the valley like a breath caught in a frozen winter wind. He smiled softly. In all likelihood the twins had fallen prey to the heavy downpour. It fell upon the village suddenly, rushing down from the Dreadnaughts and pelting Falden with a cold biting rain that brought with it a chill as soon as they arrived. But one look around the room was enough to smother what little joy he felt. He crossed his arms and avoided looking at the walls which stood too close together. The roof hung low above their heads and the lone window beside the door was so small one could barely hope to squeeze through it. Although it wasn¡¯t much, it helped to stand beside it. If he leaned his shoulder against the wall he could look down at the rain forming puddles and shallow rivers that spider webbed across the cobble stone street just below the window. The gray light coming through the glass would not have been enough to fill the room but an old brick fireplace on the opposite end provided enough to see by. Not that there was much to see. A leather chair sat beside the fireplace. Its tall back curved inward and cracked in several places along a row of dull iron buttons rimming the edge of the arms. And a small wooden table stood on thin legs in the middle of the room accompanied by several plain wooden chairs. Above the fireplace a wall mount made of dark, smoothly finished rockwood held a scabbard once dyed black but faded with age. Silver vines and leaves twining around the scabbard from end to end glowed dimly with the light of the fire dancing beneath it. A braided white cord tied the polished hand guard curled around the pommel of a saber to the scabbard, binding the sword and sheath together. If not for the sword above the fireplace and the ones both he and his brother carried it would have been impossible to imagine they once had so much more. And it was all they had left. He dug his fingertips into the flesh of his bicep, clenching his teeth. ¡°Gods, man. I¡¯ve seen more life in a frog.¡± Victor Silvertree sat forward, eyeing a thin man sunken into the leather folds of his chair. ¡°I can still jump if I want. Just not as high as I¡¯d like.¡± ¡°And how high is that?¡± Victor said. The man said nothing at first. His thin lips formed a line as he studied the floorboards at his feet. It was hard to remember his father as the man as he used to be. His favorite robe, dyed a deep blood red, covered down to his ankles a bony withered frame. Dark wrinkles clung to the bottom of his eyes. Once bright and sharp as steel, the vigor they once held were now just a memory. The clear sky blue of his youth faded to a watery gray, sunken beneath his brow. ¡°You never were the sort to hide from the world. Why stay?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve seen more than I¡¯d ever wanted to,¡± his father said. ¡°The well suits me.¡± ¡°The well?¡± Victor crossed his arms and snorted. ¡°You¡¯re not that kind of man, Allanir.¡± ¡°We all find our well someday. Only I¡¯m very much aware of what exists beyond these walls. Unlike the frog you compared me to. A bold move, by the way.¡± Victor sighed. ¡°I should have made you leave with me. It never would have gotten this bad in Lumenos. Gods!¡± ¡°Pills and acupuncture won¡¯t fix this,¡± his father said, shaking his head. ¡°Is that what you were told? By who? A traveling quack passing off his own shit as if it were worth its weight in gold? This might be your last chance.¡± ¡°The sun has shown me the way down a long and perilous road. I¡¯m fine with where it led me. If this is where I die, it¡¯s meant to be.¡± ¡°And your sons? A better life awaits them in the capital than what they¡¯ll find here.¡± ¡°My lord,¡± his father said. ¡°You did your best with me and I know you¡¯d do the same for them, but I won¡¯t send my boys off to die in another man¡¯s war.¡± ¡°War?¡± he interrupted suddenly. ¡°Did something happen while we were gone?¡± Victor leaned back in his small wooden chair and pulled out a pipe from inside his coat. ¡°While you two were gallivanting through the mountains someone decided we were better off with a change in leadership. The king is dead. Along with the queen and their sons. It¡¯s all a mess.¡± ¡°And you want to throw my sons into it?¡± His father scolded. ¡°They¡¯ll get sucked in one way or another. The legions are opening their ranks and all eyes are on the border. Better off serving the Silvertree name than the Albryte. ¡°And you know your boys will be the first ones offered up by that bastard when the recruiters come with their smooth talk of honor this and responsibility that. I¡¯ll keep them safe. Not that they really need my protection.¡± Victor glanced over his shoulder at the scrape along the side of his face. His father saw the dried blood on his cheek but hadn¡¯t made a comment. ¡°What do you say, both of you?¡± Victor demanded. Taren looked his father up and down. Pain twisted his eyes, although he tried to hide it by massaging his brow. ¡°If we go,¡± his brother said. ¡°What will happen to mother? She¡¯ll have no one left if things continue on like this.¡± Victor eyed him and he smirked. ¡°Why should I care about someone I¡¯ve never met before? I didn¡¯t ask for a king. And I don¡¯t need one. I want to go north.¡± ¡°North?¡± Victor said, arching an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s not a friendly place for one with hair as dark as my asshole. Even now you still hear stories of Delcairans disappearing over night and later found swinging from a tree.¡± ¡°Not that north,¡± he said. ¡°The true north. Past the frontier lands and the Dreadnaughts beyond them. I want to meet the Lycan lords of Hargon.¡± Victor chuckled as he lit his pipe. Smoke billowed past his lips when he spoke. ¡°Don¡¯t believe in nonsense. ¡®Lycan lords of Hargon.¡¯¡± Victor shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s an old tale made up by slaves to scare their masters.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± he said frowning. ¡°True. But I do know it¡¯s pointless for you to go even if they do exist. How long do you think you¡¯ll be welcome when they discover you can¡¯t manifest your soul?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get stronger,¡± he said. ¡°Until you peak and can¡¯t grow any more. To the best of my knowledge only purebloods have ever been able to break into the second World and cultivate the form of their soul.¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with my blood,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Aye. But it¡¯s not enough. Either you¡¯re a full Delcairan or you¡¯re not.¡± He bit his tongue to stop himself from cursing at the old cunt. ¡°Thank you for the advice, my lord. I¡¯ll remember it the next time I need to be reminded of what I can or can¡¯t do.¡± He left the room then, done with where the conversation was going. Taren¡¯s voice followed him until he opened the back door and slammed it shut. There was no point to him staying in there another second. A single tree sprouted behind their home leaning above a stone bench that overlooked a wide field skirting the edge of the village. The storm hurled sheets of rain and strong winds that washed the blood from his face, soaking through his cloak and tunic and plastering his clothes to his skin. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.????He sat on the bench and began to meditate. A deep chill seeped into his legs. But the feeling soon diminished along with the prickling burn of the scrape on his face and the cold, stinging rain. The world¡¯s essence slowly trickled into him, numbing the chill in his bones. Passing his lips with each deliberate breath, it filled his lungs and spread through his veins. It was thin, hardly noticeable at all compared to the essence rich valleys and forests of the Dreadnaughts. Fortunately he had something that more than made up for it. His left hand tingled. It started on his index finger, slowly creeping up his forearm, moving past his shoulders until it reached his scalp and spread down his chest, enveloping his right arm and both of his legs. He wasn¡¯t sure how much time had passed but when he opened his eyes the storm had run its course, leaving puddles in the short grass around the bench. Light faded through a shifting blue and gray sky blanketing the field in a soft glow that made it look young and fertile again despite waves of long brown grass swaying in the wind. ¡°How does it feel?¡± He jerked away and cursed. His father sat beside him wearing a pale grey cloak over his robe with stars sewn around the hem and wrapped tightly around his shoulders. His thin blonde hair rested flat against his scalp, slick and wet as the cloak that hugged his robe. Somehow he¡¯d managed to light a pipe and puffed at it several times while he stared. He stood abruptly, taking his father by the elbow. But the thin man shrugged him off. ¡°Sit,¡± he said. ¡°Are you mad? You need to take this off and sit by the fire.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need to do anything. Sit.¡± His father pointed to the empty spot on the bench with his pipe and he sighed, sitting back down reluctantly. A silence fell between them. He was content to let it last. But the puddle between his feet couldn¡¯t hold his attention for long. ¡°You didn¡¯t ask what happened to my face,¡± he said. ¡°You got your ass handed to you. What¡¯s there to ask about?¡± He grunted and gingerly touched his jaw. It wouldn¡¯t take long to heal with the help of essence but the pain reminded him of his failure and it shamed him. ¡°So,¡± his father said slowly. ¡°How does it feel?¡± ¡°What? This?¡± he said pointing to his face. Allanir puffed on his pipe and smiled. ¡°Cultivating essence. I still can¡¯t believe my son¡¯s an Essence Practitioner now. How did that even happen?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± he said, glancing down at his left hand. ¡°It¡¯s amazing.¡± ¡°How long has it been since you and your brother went into the Dreadnaughts? Three months? And in that time you not only broke into the first World but even cultivated your way through eight of the nine realms.¡± He scratched the side of his head and smiled sheepishly. ¡°I guess I¡¯m what you¡¯d call a genius.¡± ¡°Is that what you think?¡± his father chuckled. ¡°You turn twenty this year. A man fully grown who should be thinking of finding a wife and starting a family. A genius would have broken into the first world at the age of ten. But instead you¡¯re picking fights and trying to be something you¡¯re not.¡± His father said it so casually that it was hard to get mad at him. He winced and looked away, not knowing what to say. Allanir sensed his reaction and wrapped his shoulders in a tight hug. ¡°I¡¯m joking! Son, I¡¯m proud. It couldn¡¯t have been easy. Any man would have given up years ago. On the path of a cultivator if one hasn¡¯t broken into the first World by the time they¡¯re fifteen then it¡¯ll never happen. But you refused to give up. And not only did you succeed you advanced faster than anyone I¡¯ve ever heard of. Gods, eight realms in three months!¡± His father shook his head and laughed. ¡°You¡¯re not worried?¡± He asked. ¡°About what?¡± ¡°What Victor said. If it¡¯s true I¡¯ll never break into the second World. I¡¯ll be like this forever. Compared to them I¡¯ll always be weak.¡± ¡°He¡¯s an old fart.¡± Allanir said waving his hand dismissively. ¡°What does he know?¡± ¡°He knows how to fight,¡± he said, remembering how Victor stopped Cera¡¯s sword as if holding back a child. ¡°Is that really so important?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°You picked a fight with someone stronger than you,¡± his father said, pointing at his cheek with his pipe. ¡°The twins I assume? You never could get along with them.¡± ¡°How could I?¡± he said, heat rising to his face. ¡°They treated me like shit my whole life. Whenever I thought it couldn¡¯t get worse they somehow found a way to do exactly that. They¡¯re beasts wearing human skin. And their father is no better. You of all people should know that.¡± ¡°Aye, I haven¡¯t forgotten. But none of that matters now.¡± ¡°How can you say that? Of course it matters. Men like that can¡¯t be allowed to walk over peoples¡¯ lives. It isn¡¯t right.¡± His father puffed on his pipe and grunted. ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool. Men like that rule the world. Victor¡¯s a good man, one of the rare few among them. But he has power and isn¡¯t afraid to use it. A peasant with no money and no power doesn¡¯t get to decide for them what is right.¡± ¡°You would have me do nothing?¡± He asked bitterly. ¡°Only the dead do nothing.¡± Allanir took a long pull of his pipe and breathed out slowly, staring out at the trees beyond the field. ¡°Put it behind you,¡± he said. ¡°All the hate you¡¯ve burdened yourself with. It grows like cancer eating away until one day you wake up and you can¡¯t regocnize who you are anymore. ¡°And before you tell me it¡¯ll be fine if you have your vengeance this one time then let me tell you that you couldn¡¯t be more foolish to believe that. Hate does not go away so easily. ¡°It seeps into every crack of your being until it becomes who you are. You¡¯ll find someone else to hate and they¡¯ll hate you for it. And the cycle continues until hardly a man is left. Is that what you want?¡± He frowned as he tried his best to follow along. It was rare for his father to lecture him like this. ¡°Go north. Or go south with Victor. I can¡¯t stop you. But give up on your need for revenge. And move on. Before one day you realize you¡¯re old and no one¡¯s around to put up with you and it¡¯s already too late to go back to the way it was before.¡± Allanir fell quite after that. He felt content to let the silence stretch. His father¡¯s words chilled him more than the rain had but he couldn¡¯t deny the feelings he¡¯d harbored for so long. ¡°If not for vengeance, then what about justice?¡± he asked. Allanir smiled and nodded slowly. ¡°Clear the hatred from your heart and what do you find? Addressing past misdeeds and righting wrongs has nothing to do with vengeance. It is the moral obligation of a man who walks the path of cultivation. ¡°Of course, there¡¯s a fine line between the two. You¡¯ll be pulled to one side or the other and when that happens it¡¯s up to you to find where you stand.¡± He couldn¡¯t see why it mattered to make such a distinction so long as the twins finally met their end. But the message his father conveyed seemed clear enough. Like with most things, there was a right way and a wrong way to go about it. ¡°I think I understand,¡± he said thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± Allanir clapped him on the shoulder and rose to his feet unsteadily, using him for support. ¡°Good,¡± his father beamed. ¡°Now, don¡¯t throw your life away trying to be a hero or I¡¯ll never hear the end of it from your mother.¡± Chapter 3 - Grendyl Bright flames twisted violently, casting wild shadows onto pine trees and moss covered rocks. He sat cross-legged on the hard ground, watching the fire flicker. The kindle quietly cracked and splintered, hurling tiny glowing sparks into the cold, still air. He knew his passion was obscene but the man he was now no longer cared. He loved how it burned flesh, searing it black, meat melting off the bone. Its red hot tongues vigorously licking over naked flesh like a musician playing through the climax of a song. Its music was enchanting. It lulled him into closing his eyes. The crackling began to fade and the wailing of men and women lashed to pyres and bathed in flame grew louder. The stench of roasting flesh replaced the scent of burning wood. Fully surrendered to the music, he lost track of time until his stomach growled, interrupting his vision of the future. Slowly, he opened his eyes and glanced at his meager ration. He¡¯d already finished it. Bones upon bones littered the rocky ground before him. He considered leaving camp to hunt but dismissed the idea as quickly as it appeared. Farol was due to return soon. By now the sun would have risen, bathing the Dreadnaughts in morning light, but the heavy canopy of pines and rockwoods blanketed the forest floor in shadow. He peered over the fire into the darkness beyond. Straight ahead, through the forest and over the next mountain ridge a village sat at the gaping mouth of a deep valley. The village, really a large town by its own right, clung at the edge of civilization, far away from prying eyes. A perfect place to hide something you didn¡¯t want found. He was close. After what felt like a life time he was finally close to making things right. His trail of thought ended abruptly as he felt a large presence approaching through the darkness. He didn¡¯t need to look over his shoulder to know who it was. Farol strode through the small camp without making a sound, his hulking Lycan form a mass of muscle and long limbs, and knelt before the fire, bowing a head shaped like a wolf¡¯s but much larger. Glowing red eyes regarded him for a moment before dropping to the ground. In a fraction of a second the form of Farol¡¯s soul became a cloud of essence that swirled around him once like a black vortex of smoke. Where a Lycan knelt now was a man clothed all in black. Even the metal worked into his clothing had been lacquered black to assist with melding into the dark. Without taking his eyes off the fire he acknowledged his subordinate. ¡°Farol,¡± he said. The man who knelt before him was young, in his mid twenties, he believed. The youngest of his class to break into the third World and become an Essence Warrior. But already Farol was one of his best soldiers, having completed numerous missions all over Lucidia. Several of which extended as deep into the heart of Lumenos itself. ¡°Master Grendyl,¡± Farol said. ¡°The targets arrived at the village a day ago. They should be settled in by now.¡± ¡°Good,¡± he said. ¡°In just a few short days everything will be ready.¡± ¡°It¡¯s about bloody time.¡± On the far side of camp, sitting with his back against a rockwood, Savahge paused in rubbing a whetstone along the length of his blade. Since rebelling against the North Lords, he rarely spoke anymore. But when he did he was blunt and straight to the point. If Savahge had been any other man, his guts would have been spilled already. But instead a ghost of a smile crept into his eyes at the sound of the man¡¯s voice. He spared Savahge a glance. A thin white scar divided shrewd, calculating gray eyes. He¡¯d given that to the man a long time ago, before the war. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.????Thick black hair streaked with iron grey adorned his shoulders and glistened in the light of their small fire. He wore a heavy black cloak over a loose black robe styled in the Hargonian fashion. Even when they should be blending in Savahge still clung to his roots. Savahge wasn¡¯t his real name, of course. Like Grendyl, it had been a name given by those who feared them. By those who had once hailed them as heroes. Savahge was staring at him, he realized. ¡°I apologize for the inconvenience, old friend. I¡¯ll remember to ask our quarry to go faster the next time we hunt. It¡¯s not as if there¡¯s a plan we have to follow.¡± Savahge grunted and returned to sharpening the edge of his long thin blade. Farol still knelt by the fire, motionless as a stature. He shifted his gaze and regarded the young man. The sides of Farol¡¯s head were shaved close to the skull, leaving a crown of short black hair. Like Savahge, Farol wore a heavy black cloak, a deep hood settled around his shoulders. Unlike the other man, Farol was dressed in the rural Lucidian fashion. A long wool tunic dyed black and secured around his waist by a wide leather belt. A pair of plain short swords hung on both hips. The hilt of a knife peeked over the edge of one black leather boot. The young man favored throwing knives and would have at least half a dozen more hidden all over his body. ¡°Speak,¡± he said. Farol shifted and turned his gaze toward the distant village. A small frown creased his brow. ¡°I spotted a boat downriver heading for the village. It looked brighter from a distance than it should have for a mere trading vessel so I left a subordinate behind while I investigated it personally. "I spied a dozen men in full armor on deck. All but three were Essence Channelers. Two of the three hid their cultivation well but it was obvious they were in the third World. The last one, who appeared to be the leader, I couldn¡¯t sense him at all.¡± Farol¡¯s essence perception was strong enough to see through even a fourth World cultivator¡¯s best efforts to hide their power. It could only mean this leader was stronger than an Essence Conqueror. It made no sense for an Essence Ruler to visit a backwater corner of the kingdom. Unless¡­. He crossed his arms and frowned, contemplating their next move. ¡°Farol. Savahge. Tell the others. Our presence is to remain unknown. But should we be discovered, kill the soldiers. Kill the villagers. And burn the village. We can¡¯t have any witnesses spreading tales. However the goal remains. Secure the targets and return to Hargon.¡± The two men rose smoothly to their feet. Savahge sheathed his sword in one flowing motion and strode into the dark forest. His shadow immediately grew several feet taller as he broke into a jog. Farol bowed his head and turned as the form of his soul reappeared around him. A black vortex of essence swirled and where Farol stood a Lycan several feet taller took his place. His red eyes glowed briefly in the dark and disappeared as he sprinted in the opposite direction. Despite the soldier¡¯s unexpected appearance, he was still in quite a good mood. A grin spread across his face as he thought of his red soaked vision of the future. Fire and blood. The world was going to change soon. And for the better. His stomach growled once more. He sighed and rose to his feet. He would just have to indulge his hunger. Just this once. On the edge of camp beyond the dim light of his meager fire several men were bound hand and foot, naked and bloody. One had already had been picked clean but the two remaining were still very much alive. He put out the dying fire with a kick of his boots and took a step toward the darkness. On his second step he was a man. On his third, he was not. Chapter 4 - Saul ¡°When I fought the North Lords, I saw men I grew up with die. Can you imagine what that must have been like? To know someone your whole life. To see them everyday. Talk to them and their parents, their brothers and sisters. ¡°And then one day see them impaled on a lance. Or trampled into the mud. The man I called my sworn brother died in my arms, drowning in his own blood. ¡°I killed boys I¡¯d never met. Boys who did me no wrong. Lycans and Dragons dominated the field and those who couldn¡¯t break into the second World, those like my brother, were just meat thrown into a grinder until one side either ran out of meat or decided to throw it away elsewhere. ¡°If you survive long enough you begin to wonder where you are and how you got there. Hell becomes more than just a story we tell ourselves. After a while you forget what it even means to be human. You stop crying. Stop shaking and pissing yourself before the start of every fight. ¡°You follow orders. You die or you don¡¯t. There¡¯s no living to be had and even when it¡¯s all over what do you do? How do you go back home after that? How do you live when the light in your soul is swallowed up by those bloody fields and only the darkness of those days comes back with you?¡± His father paused, voice thin. Eyes distant and pale. He¡¯d hardly touched his breakfast. Two eggs and a slice of bacon on a plain wooden plate laid out by their mother Narsila. She put her hand on his forearm and sniffed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Taren put his fork down and eyed him with concern. Father never spoke about the war. Even before lord Silvertree and his grandson moved their house to Lumenos. He noted the lines under his father¡¯s eyes had grown deeper than he¡¯d realized. Allanir should have been a man in his forties but his bloody illness had taken its toll. He slumped in his chair, face haggard and drawn, staring absently at the center of the table. He wanted to say something, anything. But the words failed to find his tongue and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ¡°Before Victor left last night we spoke again,¡± his father continued. ¡°And I realize that it¡¯s far worse than I¡¯d thought. I haven¡¯t forgotten what the two of you said, but still. It would put your mother and I at ease if you swore to us you¡¯ll stay as far away from war as you can.¡± Taren gave his word without hesitation. So of course he did the same. Not that he saw the point in doing so. He¡¯d meant every word of what he¡¯d said. If he killed lord Albryte¡¯s sons no doubt the lord would come after his head. Running from him or running from a draft made no difference. Either way his stay in Falden would come to an end. But after seeing his father again, slowly withering into nothing, he wasn¡¯t so sure of himself. Had he made the right decision to confront the twins? Or a selfish one? He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he finally stepped outside after sitting through the rest of the meal in silence. He carried a bundle over his shoulders and his sword on his hip, hidden by his cloak. A strong gust blowing down the street made him pull it tight across his chest. Needles pricked his nose and cheeks but as he walked the sun warmed his shoulders, easing the tension between them. It wasn¡¯t long before he noticed something very wrong. Flower pots and paper lanterns decorated the windows and doorways of shops and half a dozen homes. Lines of small, triangle flags hung across the street in alternating red and green patterns. A merchant cracked his whip and drove his wagon away from a pair of young men who carried crates into a shop under the scrutiny of an old man in an apron. Women in long blue and green wool skirts hugged covered baskets close to their waists and idly chatted with each other, followed by a thick, savory aroma drifting from the bakery further up the street. But that wasn¡¯t what made him stop and hug the side of a brick wall. Coming down the street toward him a man in a white and gold uniform lead several others in polished armor that made him squint if he stared. A mother pulled her child along who pointed, eyes lit with curiosity and wonder. As a boy he might have wanted to wear that uniform, but the sight of them marching down the street left him wanting to run as far away as he could. Why were there soldiers in Falden? Could there already be a draft? Lord Silvertree would have mentioned it, but wouldn¡¯t he have said something about this too? He waited until they passed, then hurried down the narrow street until it split off. One side wrapping around the village, the other veering off into a stone stairway that crisscrossed down a slope into Falden¡¯s lower market. He slowed upon reaching the stairs and eyed the docks where a dozen boats of different sizes clogged Falden¡¯s little harbor. In a few days the village would hold a festival to celebrate the coming spring. A day of feasting followed by a day of competitions and more feasting with a lot of song and dance in between. Merchants sailed up the Goldwater bringing all sorts of things you couldn¡¯t find in the Rockwood valley. More importantly, those merchants liked to buy things as well. He smiled, readjusting the straps that held the bundle firmly across his back. The Sirocco sat in the river¡¯s deep, dark waters, moored alongside the other merchant ships. That man had never missed a festival but seeing his ship suddenly lifted a weight from his chest he hadn¡¯t previously been aware of. The stairs dropped him into an open market where a dozen different tents lined one side of the square facing the docks. It took only a quick second to find what he was looking for. Deep violet cloth made the tent¡¯s roof and walls, thick enough to offer shade from the rising sun. He ducked through a door made of multicolored beads strung together. As they clacked against each other a short oily man with dark brown skin greeted him. Jem smiled widely through a thick, black curly beard. ¡°Saul, my boy!¡± The man clasped him by the shoulder, fingers laden with rings. ¡°How are you? How is your family?¡± Grinning, he clasped Jem by the shoulders in return. He loved Jem like the uncle he never had. As a young boy, he¡¯d listen for hours as the merchant regaled him with stories of the old world beyond Falden and the Rockwood valley. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.????If there was anyone to blame for his day dreams of exploring the mountains of the Vangars and the white sands of the Kalanni, this man certainly had to shoulder most of it. ¡°Jem, you old rat! I can¡¯t express how happy I am to see your ugly face again.¡± Jem laughed deeply and patted his shoulder, guiding him further inside. ¡°Come, come! Fresh tea in the kettle. Would you care for some?¡± ¡°When have I ever said no to that?¡± Jem laughed once more and led him to a small sectioned off corner in the back. A polished kettle sat above a small burning stove. The merchant took out a pair of small glass cups and offered him one after pouring in them both. He accepted it gratefully and stirred in a little sugar before blowing off steam rising from the dark liquid. He had to hold back from immediately gulping it down. Sugar wasn¡¯t an easy thing to come by and the anticipation breathed down his neck. ¡°Taren and I are doing well,¡± he continued after settling down on some cushions. ¡°As is my mother. My father, on the other hand, is a different story.¡± ¡°Many apologies, my boy.¡± Jem said, ruefully shaking his head. ¡°Allanir is a good man.¡± ¡°You have my thanks, old friend.¡± He took a sip, careful not to burn his tongue, and sighed happily as he considered his next words with care. ¡°You¡¯d have even more of my thanks if you could take a look at something for me.¡± Jem raised his eyebrows questioningly. He reached behind him with one hand and settled his bundle next to the small wooden table set between them. Curiosity spread over Jem¡¯s face. ¡°This is what?¡± Jem asked, setting down his cup and leaning over to pick it up. He unlaced the strings holding the top flaps together and peered inside. ¡°Is really what I think, boy?¡± A smile spread across his bearded face. Realization dawning in his small, black eyes. He stuck in a jeweled hand and pulled out one of the furs inside. ¡°Is good you come to me. Yes! Dread bear is rare. People south would kill for this. Very smart, coming here.¡± Jem took another sip of his tea before rising to his feet. ¡°Just wait. Enjoy the tea. Have some more. I will be right back.¡± He left the small room and ducked back in several moments later bearing a small chest. With a comfortable sigh he settled back down on his cushions before flipping it open. A small bit of pride settled around his shoulders when his jaw didn¡¯t fall immediately into his lap. More silver than he¡¯d ever seen in his life filled the little chest to the brim. He swallowed a lump in his throat and met the merchant¡¯s eyes. Jem wasn¡¯t showing off. Not in the way lord Albryte and his sons often would. This was how the Kobari haggled behind closed doors over something valuable. He took another sip of tea to get an extra few moments to think. This could only mean Jem took his offer seriously. Since no one else would value the fur as highly as Jem would, he wasn¡¯t really worried about getting handed a bad deal. But Jem had also been the one to teach him how to haggle. He would probably drink through at least another cup before they were done. ¡°You know, it wasn¡¯t easy getting these furs,¡± he said casually. ¡°Dire bears don¡¯t just sit there and die without a fight. The danger alone makes them quite valuable.¡± Of course that¡¯s exactly how he got them. Dread bears were viciously territorial monsters and highly aggressive by nature. If not for his brother stumbling upon the corpses of a few who¡¯d killed each other, there was no way under the sun that he¡¯d ever risk his life hunting a dread bear. Thankfully Jem didn¡¯t need to know that. Jem smiled at him as he took a quick sip of tea. His eyes shined as if he saw right through him. How could a young man, barely even a cultivator, manage such a thing between just him and his brother? But the merchant never once pointed that out. For the better part of an hour they went back and forth, often straying from the topic and coming back to it with a new offer. He couldn¡¯t help but feel like Jem was testing him. They eventually settled on a price that was much more than what he originally thought he¡¯d walk away with. Jem laughed. ¡°Rich man. What will you do?¡± ¡°Help my father,¡± he said without hesitation. Jem nodded with approval. ¡°You know, man does not get rich by giving away his wealth. But man¡¯s life becomes rich by the happiness of those closest to him. Send Allanir my best regards.¡± Jem raised his glass and took a sip. ¡°Ah, another thing,¡± Jem said. Almost as an afterthought. ¡°That ring for sale?¡± He glanced down at the ring on his left hand. ¡°This? It¡¯s nothing special.¡± ¡°I would not call a ring ¡®nothing special.¡¯ I have an eye for this.¡± Jem held up a hand to his face and wiggled his ring laden fingers. ¡°I think you¡¯re going blind, old man.¡± He chuckled nervously and hid his hand in his lap. ¡°But thank you for the tea. It was refreshingly good.¡± ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Jem said with an easy smile. ¡°Just don¡¯t forget to visit this old man again. We need to share a proper drink of alcohol at feast. Stories I have aplenty for you.¡± Jem retired to another room separated by violet cloth with the bundle of furs and the chest full of silver cradled in his arms. That was his cue to leave. He pocketed his coin and drank the rest of his tea. The market square felt pleasantly warmer now. The rising sun took away a lot of the morning chill. But not all of it. Winter was not yet a very distant memory. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to face the sun, enjoying the way its light tingled on his cheeks. Today was going to be a good day. He could feel it. There was more than enough coin in his pocket to pay for the medicine this year. Perhaps even enough for next year as well. He stretched his arms, fingers grasping for the sky, and gave a huge sigh of relief. He almost jumped when a strong hand suddenly griped his shoulder. He jerked away but the hand refused to let go. Lord Albryte¡¯s guard growled and spun him around, shoving him toward another. Kalys Murk folded his thick arms and smiled unpleasantly. ¡°Come along, boy. The lord would like a word.¡± Chapter 5 - Saul His hand went immediately for the hilt hidden under his cloak. Besides a handful of villagers he noted that only Kalys and two other guards surrounded him. Kalys lowered his chin and tucked his thumbs behind his belt. ¡°Try it dog. It won¡¯t go as it did the last time.¡± ¡°And shame you twice in as many days,¡± he said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± One of the guards grabbed his arm. He twisted suddenly, sidestepping him as he snatched the man¡¯s wrist and yanked his arm behind his back, forcing the guard to his knees. As the guard cried out he ripped his saber free of its scabbard and leveled the edge of the blade across the other guard¡¯s neck before the man had even known what happened. ¡°Tell your pigs not to lay a hand on me. Unless you want to keep the lord waiting?¡± Kalys ground his teeth and scowled, cursing his men with an order he gave grudgingly. He kept his saber out, sheathing it only after he was sure the guards wouldn¡¯t attack him. They kept their distance but openly glared at his back. He eyed Kalys sideways and grinned. The Master of Arms grumbled under his breath, obviously disappointed that he couldn¡¯t rough him up beforehand. Falden sat upon a rise overlooking the banks of the Goldwater Rush, a deep river swollen by melting snow and ice. Wood and stone rose out of the mud and grass like a crown of shops and homes. On the edge of the rise, commanding a wide view of the twisting river below and yawning fields to the south, stood the Albryte manor. A large square that made the village commons separated the manor from the rest of the village. Long wooden tables and benches surrounded a platform where various contests to entertain the village folk would take place. Anticipation simmered in his skull as they crossed the commons and stopped outside a gated black iron fence. A lone guard recognized them and opened the gate from the inside, letting them through. Several stories tall, no other building in the village stood taller. Columns flanked either side of the main entrance where a servant ushered them inside. Velvet chairs and couches lined walls decorated with paintings and murals of people he didn¡¯t recognize and battles he knew nothing about. It bothered him how unsightly he appeared next to the manor¡¯s lavishness. Even after bathing and a good night¡¯s rest he looked awful. His black hair hung low against his shoulders, thick and slightly wavy. He hadn¡¯t shaved in over a month and his clothes were tattered, the color faded from exposure. It wasn¡¯t long before the guards brought him before a large doorway. Its tall wooden doors stood open, revealing a large room inside. Shelves full of books lined well over half the walls. A suit of armor stood in a corner and beside it on a table lay both a scabbard and a sword displayed on a small tiered rack. In the middle of the room lord Albryte sat at his desk writing, a pile of papers stacked to one side and several open books laid on the other. His close cropped hair glowed white under the light streaming through a pair of tall rounded glass windows behind him. Shadows obscured his face as he hunched over his writing. His clothes were new and rich. His red jacket was slashed with white. The buttons polished to a shine and the cloak slung over his chair lined with glistening black fur. Lord Albryte laid down his pen and reclined in his chair upon their arrival. ¡°Saul,¡± he said, pronouncing his name as he would an insult. ¡°I¡¯m so pleased you could attend me at this hour. I hope I wasn¡¯t interrupting anything.¡± ¡°Of course not, my lord,¡± he said steadily meeting the man¡¯s shadowed gaze. ¡°Good. I¡¯ve heard something quite interesting recently. Now that you stand before me I see that it¡¯s true.¡± The lord crossed his legs and drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair. ¡°An eighth realm first World essence practitioner. It¡¯s been so long since I was at that level. I still remember the day it happened, how excited I was to finally take a step into a world of power. I thought I could take on anybody. When I think of that I can understand where you found the audacity to challenge my sons.¡± The lord chuckled softly. ¡°Sadly, you aren¡¯t even in the same World as they are. I¡¯m willing to overlook it just this once.¡± ¡°You¡¯re too kind, my lord.¡± The lord snorted, readjusting himself in his seat. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be the first to say so. But still, I would like to congratulate you on becoming a cultivator. Fortunately for you it happened at the best possible time.¡± He held his breath and braced himself, suddenly wary of what that could mean. Lord Albryte leaned forward and in doing so the shadows retreated from his face. The lord gave him a cold unblinking stare. ¡°Have you heard yet of the soldiers gracing our little village? I had a chance to speak with their captain this morning and he seemed quite open to the idea of enlisting your service.¡± His mouth went dry as he groped for something to say. He would have laughed if not for the lord¡¯s piercing blue eyes that sent a shiver down his spine. Lord Albryte studied him, waiting for a response. When none came he smirked. ¡°No need to thank me. I know you haven¡¯t been,¡± the lord gestured lazily, ¡°satisfied with your life so far. This is perfect for you! Imagine the adventure. The excitement! If Vocaria deems you lucky, you may not even die on a barbarian¡¯s blade.¡± The lord chuckled, clearly satisfied with himself. He held his hands behind his back and balled them into fists. It was better than the other thing he had in mind. ¡°My lord,¡± he said, clearing his throat. ¡°My father¡¯s health has gotten worse. He¡¯s weak and frail and needs me at home. I¡¯m afraid to disappoint you, but I can¡¯t accept your generosity. I¡¯m not going.¡± The lord paused. His cold stare unreadable and for a long moment he feared that he¡¯d taken a step too far. The lord stood and waved indifferently at Kalys and the guards standing by the entrance. ¡°Wait outside and close the door.¡± Kalys and the guards bowed their heads and echoed, ¡°Yes, lord.¡± The doors swung silently, clicking softy when they closed. He watched over his shoulder as they left. All together it couldn¡¯t have been more than a few moments long. But when he looked back at Albryte¡¯s desk the lord was no longer sitting in his chair but standing over him, cupping his chin. He jerked back, holding in a cry. The lord stood well above him leaving him no choice but to look up at the man. When the shock subsided anger took its place. First a threat, now intimidation when that didn¡¯t work. He clenched his jaw and stared back defiantly. ¡°I have to admit,¡± the lord said. ¡°I didn¡¯t believe them at first when they told me you challenged them to a fight. You were always so¡­submissive. To think you were hiding this much defiance in you. Was cultivation all you needed to give you this confidence, or is there something more?¡± What he had would help him catch up to the twins but it wasn¡¯t enough to fight this man. He didn¡¯t know what World the lord was in but he imagined it was well beyond him. ¡°I¡¯m just tired of it,¡± he said simply. ¡°They don¡¯t care enough to know the difference between a peasant and a slave and it¡¯s about time someone taught them that.¡± ¡°Interesting,¡± Albryte said. His lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. ¡°You¡¯re lucky, Saul. Once upon a time I would have beheaded you for that kind of disrespect. But you¡¯ve piqued my interest. How about striking a deal with me?¡± He hesitated. ¡°What does my lord have in mind?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll allow your fight to take place at the sword skill tournament. If you can beat either of my sons I won¡¯t force you into the legions. ¡°I¡¯ll even extend an olive branch. Working so hard to find enough money to pay for Allanir¡¯s medicine while barely scraping by must be so difficult. I¡¯ll take that burden upon myself. I¡¯ll pay for it all. I¡¯ll even bring in a proper doctor from Solaren to care for him.¡± ¡°And should I lose?¡± The lord smiled for real this time. Only it never once touched his eyes. ¡°Then off you go, to the frontier or the border, or wherever it is the legions go these days. I would also like to point out that should you lose to either one or drop out of the tournament before you face them, then that¡¯s also a loss.¡± He backed away from the lord and looked around the room. Clearly a study. So much wealth and power resided in this one place. How could so much fall into the hands of just a single person? Albryte¡¯s deal was better than he could have ever hoped for. It should have excited him. But something didn¡¯t add up right. He cocked his head and met the lord¡¯s unblinking gaze. ¡°Why make a deal? I can think of several other ways you could get rid of me. That is if all of this really is about your son,¡± he said slowly, pausing deliberately before adding, ¡°my lord.¡± The lord frowned and walked over to the door giving it a knock. It opened wide enough for a guard to look inside. ¡°Show him to the gate.¡± The doors opened then all the way. The two guards who brought him there came into the room. Kalys was no longer around. Lord Albryte walked over to his desk, settled back in his seat, and took up his pen. ¡°Just think about it, Saul. It¡¯s a generous offer. So much more than you deserve. And do give me your answer no later than tomorrow.¡± With that the lord waved him off with a flick of his fingers. The guards ushered him out of the room, without grabbing him, he noticed, and led him back the way they came. Only the sound of their boots thumping softly against the richly carpeted floor separated them from total silence. He felt grateful for the lack of conversation. Not that he cared to talk to them. The quiet simply made it easier for him to think. Of course he had no choice but to accept the lord¡¯s offer. The reward was simply too good to pass up. But if he failed? Could Albryte really force him into service? Sure, life and death was something a noble could play around with at his leisure but was this in the scope of the lord¡¯s power? And why offer him a deal at all? It made sense if he looked at it from a certain angle. Albryte held all the power. Why make a bet where he could lose unless he never intends to honor it in the first place. The deal was just a ruse to make him play along. He frowned deeply and gripped the hilt of his sword. Win or lose, the lord was sending him off for good. He could flee right after the tournament. He could even flee before the tournament. But in the end, running away meant abandoning his father who needed him now more than ever. It pained him to think about, but it seemed his old plan was now his only option. He faltered after rounding a corner. A young man with blue eyes and long golden hair hugging his shoulders stepped out from a doorway, smiling through a thick curly brown beard. Behind him followed a young woman. She wore her red hair in a ponytail that hung to her waist. Her bangs overshadowed large, bright green eyes that crinkled with a little smile she half hid behind a black gloved hand that reached past her elbow. Golden vines twisted vertically along the sides of a dark red dress she wore underneath a brown fur cloak that hugged her shoulders and flared open in the front revealing a gilded leather belt buckled around her waist. The guards paused in the hallway to bow their heads, muttering, ¡°My lady.¡± He ignored her and turned on the young man. ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you not to come back here?¡± He breathed. Taren glanced away, chuckling nervously. His beard couldn¡¯t hide the blush that painted his checks red. ¡°You did? Are you sure about that?¡± He bristled at his brother¡¯s feigned ignorance. Before he could say another word a guard cut him off. ¡°Quit wasting time. Let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± the young woman said. ¡°Instead you can answer me why Saul should need an escort as if he¡¯s a criminal.¡± ¡°The lord had business with the boy. Now he wants him taken to the gate.¡± ¡°I can do that myself,¡± she said, nodding slightly. ¡°Take this moment to visit the kitchen or resume your normal duties.¡± ¡°My lady, that¡¯s-¡± ¡°Perfectly acceptable. I¡¯m happy you agree.¡± She smiled at the guard until he shared a glance with his colleague who shrugged. They offered her another bow of their heads, uttered ¡°My lady,¡± and stalked toward the end of the hallway until they reached a row of tall windows, taking positions on either side of the hall and blending seamlessly into the manor¡¯s d¨¦cor. ¡°Well, that was lovely,¡± Taren said. The young woman gave him a tight hug. He looked away with a frown. ¡°Thanks,¡± he grunted. ¡°Saul,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m happy to see you¡¯re looking well.¡± He glanced down the hallway at the guards and the woman followed his look. ¡°It¡¯s alright. They won¡¯t bite.¡± He looked back at her. She stood just a little taller than him and his brother. He crossed his arms, glancing up into her eyes. Despite her name, Sylvia Albryte was very much unlike her brothers. She blinked a few times, returning his flat stare with warm hospitality. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.????¡°You realize the two of you are pushing your luck,¡± he said. ¡°The moment your father catches wind of this it¡¯ll be over for both of you. What do you think he¡¯ll do to the commoner who dares to lay his eyes on his daughter?¡± She hesitated. ¡°It was only a conversation between friends,¡± she added quickly, her pale cheeks flushed a deep red. ¡°The two of you practically grew up around here. He shouldn¡¯t find it strange at all.¡± ¡°You¡¯re worrying too much,¡± Taren said. He clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. ¡°It¡¯s not like that at all.¡± ¡°I hope you¡¯re right,¡± he mused, shaking his head. ¡°But don¡¯t you find it odd? Couldn¡¯t either of you find someone more appropriate to talk to? Someone whose family could get along more nicely with the other?¡± ¡°Oh come on,¡± Taren said, rolling his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s not her fault and you know it.¡± ¡°When father takes us to the city all I¡¯m allowed to do is study,¡± Sylvia said. ¡°History and politics are fascinating topics, but you can¡¯t have a conversation with a book.¡± He opened his mouth, about to tell her she should try, when a loud voice cut through the hallway. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± Rolling his eyes, he groaned, sparing the newcomer a glance. Barin stomped down the hallway followed by his twin. ¡°I do hope you both have a good reason for bothering our sister,¡± Jon said coolly. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right Sylvia? Aren¡¯t you bothered by them?¡± He thought for a moment that Barin would shove his way between them. Instead he crossed his arms and frowned. ¡°How did a pair of stray dogs wander in? Does father even know you¡¯re here? And you,¡± Barin said, looking over Sylvia who visibly wilted. ¡°What are you doing here with them?¡± ¡°I was¡­,¡± she said. Her voice trembled slightly under the weight of her brother¡¯s stare. ¡°I was summoned,¡± he said suddenly. ¡°What for?¡± Jon said, frowning at him. There was no way, he decided, that he was going to tell the twins about his deal with lord Albryte. He barely gave it a thought before a grin slowly crept over his face. ¡°He¡¯s worried about you, your father is. Thinks you won¡¯t beat me in the tournament. So he tried to buy me off.¡± He shrugged as if it were no big deal, enjoying the startled look that flashed between them. ¡°It didn¡¯t work,¡± he smiled. Barin¡¯s pale face flushed a bright red. Uncrossing his arms he took a threatening step forward, close enough to almost breathe down on him. ¡°You filthy liar,¡± he snarled. ¡°Father would never acknowledge the son of a slave. You¡¯re just a lowborn peasant with nothing to your name but the rags on your back. You¡¯re lucky enough to even shovel horse shit.¡± He kept his smile and regarded Barin with a tilt of his head. No more bowing and scraping. These two, especially Barin, were never going to see him cower again. Locking eyes with the young man, the same heat in Barin¡¯s pretty face rose in his own. ¡°For once you¡¯re actually right about something,¡± he said. ¡°I am lucky. Do you know why?¡± He balled his fists. The cold metal of the black ring bit into his flesh. His smile twisted, but not in pain. His voice came dangerously close to yelling. ¡°Because I had people like you in my life. People who always looked down on me as if I weren¡¯t even human. You made it come to this. You forced me to be what I am today. If not for you I might never have found the passion I needed to cultivate and learn the way of the sword.¡± Sylvia reached out to him but he jerked away from her touch. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m grateful for the chance I was given to waste my days cleaning stables? Do you think I never had to train to become as skilled as I am? You were given everything from the moment you were born while I¡¯ve had to work harder than the both of you little shits combined.¡± Jon, always so cold and indifferent, gaped as though he¡¯d been slapped. His jaw dropped. Barin¡¯s eyes bulged and for a long moment no one said a thing. Then suddenly Barin moved for the knife at his belt. Jon grabbed him before the blonde man could pull it free. ¡°Piss off,¡± Barin said. He shoved his twin away, reaching again for the knife, and hesitated. Jon flipped it around in his palm and, with a flick of his wrist, sent it flying down the hallway spinning end over end until it sank point first into a painting. The commotion drew the guard¡¯s attention and Sylvia moved to stop them. Jon regarded him coolly. His pale eyes were cold as ice and relayed a lot more restraint than his brother Barin. ¡°Bold words coming from someone who just recently learned how to cultivate. Why don¡¯t you prove it then?¡± Jon said. A hint of anger simmered beneath his tone. ¡°The two of us against you. Right now.¡± Barin snorted and straightened his sleeve with an irritated twitch. ¡°Don¡¯t even bother. I can take him myself.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure that cousin Cera would have said the same.¡± Jon replied. His anger boiled over at the casual way Barin dismissed him and it burst out as a laugh, pure and unbridled laughter that brought a tear to his eye. He thought he heard Taren pleading with him not to fight but his ears were pounding. His blood was hot and he needed this now, he realized. More than anything. ¡°This day just keeps getting better,¡± he said. ¡°Where do you want to do it?¡± He looked around the hallway, noting the guards who had resumed their spot at the opposite end. ¡°It¡¯s a bit inconvenient here, don¡¯t you think?¡± Barin scowled but otherwise ignored his outburst. Jon nodded his head and waved him forward. ¡°This way. We have just the place.¡± The twins led him to a small courtyard at the rear of the mansion. Arches lined the yard on three sides where the fourth lay open to the river and fields that spread out below. Leaning against one of the stone archways stood a man in full uniform. He wore a nearly full suit of white. White pants stuffed down knee length shiny black boots. A white cloak lined in black fur draped over one shoulder of his white jacket. Silver chains decorated the other shoulder and hooked onto a high collar. A sword hung from his belt and on his breast appeared a large crest. A Dragon¡¯s head crowned by a rising sun. The man looked up from a book he held in black gloved hands and gave them all a curious look. The twins ignored him as they strode across the paved ground. On one side of the courtyard stood a rack full of weapons. He wished there was real steel among them. It held only wooden practice swords and staffs. The twins each took a sword. Jon favored one while his brother chose two. Barin swung his wooden blades in a few complex circles before resting them on his shoulders. The blonde man turned, giving him a smug look. ¡°Feel free to use the sword you have there, dog.¡± ¡°No need,¡± he said unbuckling his sword from his belt. He tossed it to Taren who caught it awkwardly. Sylvia stood beside his brother, watching silently with her arms folded beneath her breasts. He glanced over the rack and settled on a long staff roughly his own height. He considered the swords but quickly dismissed them. A staff would serve him better in a fight against two people. He gripped the staff and spun it a few times around from side to side and over his head. He spun it behind his back and brought it forward again, catching it in his hand with a slap. Feeling satisfied he closed his eyes to activate his essence body. Strength washed over him like he¡¯d stepped in front of an open forge. Essence pulsed through his muscles. He smiled and turned to face the twins. ¡°So, how do you want to-¡± Barin closed in on him without warning. He laughed at the cowardly move and swung his staff to connect with the first blow. Barin snarled and swung his blades in a torrent of strikes, each blade moving at the same time but striking separate spots. ¡°What¡¯s wrong,¡± he chided. ¡°Is this all you¡¯re capable of without using your Dragon form?¡± He blocked every strike as they came with blinding speed and narrowly backed away from the corner the blonde man had tried forcing him into. But he might have laughed too soon. He doubted Barin was more skilled but the young man still had a higher cultivation. It showed in the heaviness and swiftness of his blows. He had to end it quickly or Barin would overcome him with sheer force alone. ¡°Why should I when you¡¯re making this too easy!¡± Barin yelled. The young man flashed his teeth, laughing hysterically. His eagerness added more power to his blows and it came with a cost. Barin¡¯s movements were sloppy and predictable. Such a waste of power. He swung his staff and roared, suddenly taking the offensive. The furry and precision behind his blows caught Barin off guard who now stumbled backward. Barin strained himself behind his feeble defense. Anger bleed through his eyes as he brought his staff up in a fast fluid arc, sending one of Barin¡¯s swords flying into the air, and plunged the other end of his staff deep into Barin¡¯s gut. Barin dropped his other sword, gripping his stomach as he fell to his knees coughing. That should have been the end of it but the thrill of the fight had fully taken him and in his anger a profound need to punish these two men seized him. He tossed aside his staff and kicked up into his hand Barin¡¯s dropped sword. ¡°Pathetic,¡± he said. ¡°Whoever taught you must have been a fool if it hadn¡¯t been drilled into your head not to ever drop your sword during a fight.¡± He paused. ¡°Or maybe they had, and you¡¯re just an idiot.¡± Barin coughed into his sleeve and looked up at him. He swung the blade just as the young man looked up, slamming it straight across his eyes. Barin fell onto his back unconscious. He turned and found Jon standing alone in the center of the courtyard gripping his practice blade before him, knuckles white with tension. He slowly approached the other man whose eyes held a mixture of bewilderment and fear. He¡¯d made the wrong choice in not attacking together with his twin. ¡°Higher cultivation doesn¡¯t mean shit if all you do is swing your sword around like it¡¯s a toy,¡± he said. Jon took a few quick steps forward and raised his blade, meaning to strike him over the head. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. The wooden sword in his hand trembled. He¡¯d almost lost his grip from the sheer force behind the blow, but otherwise his parry had been perfect. The sword in Jon¡¯s hands spun to the side end over end and clattered across the courtyard. He opened his eyes and regarded Jon with a cold grin. ¡°Three things can make a cultivator powerful but only one will make him strong.¡± His blade came around in a blur. The hard rockwood connected with the side of Jon¡¯s head with a meaty crunch and the man crumpled to the ground. He tossed the broken sword aside and eyed the twins with a hungry look. It wasn¡¯t enough. He wanted more but these two hadn¡¯t satisfied him. The fight had barely lasted five minutes. He shook his head and sighed, watching the heat of his breath disappear into the cool air. Underneath the anger, he vaguely felt the impression he¡¯d done something he would later regret. Oh well. It was far too late to go back now. A hand gripped his shoulder and he twisted, prepared to punch whoever it was. Taren looked as though he¡¯d seen a ghost. His face had turned deathly pale, his eyes bulging out of his head. ¡°Are you stupid?¡± his brother cried. ¡°Look what you did to them.¡± He glanced back at the twins lying unconscious on the ground. Luckily none of the guards had been around to watch. Sylvia was no longer there. He doubted that she¡¯d call for the guards. Then he remembered the man in white. He glanced around quickly but the man was nowhere to be seen. ¡°I won¡¯t deny that you might be right about that,¡± he said, rubbing his hands together. ¡°But damn was it fun. Shame they couldn¡¯t last a bit longer.¡± Taren stood there, speechless. But quickly found his tongue. ¡°You need to get out of here,¡± he said. ¡°Lord Albryte might just hang you for this.¡± ¡°I highly doubt that," a voice said from behind. They both jumped and spun to find a man standing just a few feet away. It was the man in white from before. How had he snuck up on them so easily? ¡°One word from me,¡± the man said. ¡°And old man Raemis Albryte will bite his tongue and look the other way.¡± The man regarded him with deep blue eyes and a friendly smile. ¡°Those were some nice moves, by the way. I¡¯d wager there¡¯s a good story behind them. How about you share it with me over a nice glass of Falden¡¯s rockwood ale?¡± He exchanged a quick look with his brother. ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked. Behind him Barin moaned as he began to stir. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right,¡± the man said. ¡°I should introduce myself. My bad.¡± He offered them both a slight bow and struck a dignified pose. ¡°My name is Alazar Maxillion, cousin to the new queen Eliza Zaryph. May her reign be both long and blessed with peace. But you can call me Alazar.¡± Chapter 6 - Eliza A chorus of whispers hummed among the gathered lords and ladies beyond the open doors of the tall entryway. Anticipation gripped the air so hard she could taste it in the back of her throat. She smoothed her hands over the sides of her dress, hiding them beneath the folds of her fur lined white cloak. The time had finally come. Galoria laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow. She shook her head and waved off the little woman. It was nothing. She just needed a moment to compose herself. Today was an important day for the people of Lucidia. She needed to show the nobles her confidence. The last thing she wanted was for them to see a hint of weakness. The crowd hushed as she swept into the large open chamber. Columns chiseled into the likeness of Dragon form warriors holding aloft great swords rose from the marble floors on either side of the wide room and disappeared into the dimness of the high ceiling that loomed far above the crowd. Arching stained glass windows lined the walls beyond the columns. Sunlight spilled through the rose colored glass along one side of the hall as the sun began its slow ascent. She strode down the center of the room, through the walkway that divided the crowd, leading to the high backed throne that sat at the end of the great hall on a dais nine steps tall. The Sun Throne gleamed under the rising sun. Commoners believed it was made of solid gold. Of course, she knew better. Like many other things in the capital, it was only beautiful on the outside. A thin layer of gold, hammered flat and formed to fit the throne, hid the old rotting wood underneath. An array of rubies, black pearls, and diamonds lined the back of the chair above the head of where its occupant would sit. A Dragon head with a rising sun behind it glared at the crowd of nobles assembled below it. She ignored the bowing lords and ascended the nine steps to the top of the dais. An old man wearing the robes of the Vocarian temple stood beside a younger man wearing similar robes. The young man held before him a satin pillow supporting a golden crown. Lord Malister had been the head of the Sun Temple of Vocaria since before she was born. The old man studied her silently with gray, cloudy eyes as she carefully knelt before him. She had initially refused to do so, but Galoria had counseled against it. Refusing to kneel before the temple was as good as declaring oneself a heretic. He gave her a slight nod and turned to face the nobles gathered in the hall. ¡°My lords and ladies,¡± he said, voice thin and raspy. ¡°We gather here to recognize our Mother¡¯s child, born of fire and raised among Her blessed children. We mourn the passing of our King, but we shall not falter. Our enemies failed. And they shall know the price of failure. After all, leave just one Dragon alive and the lions are never safe.¡± He lifted the crown from its pillow and held it out above the crowd. The crown was simple and elegant and as old as the kingdom itself. A thin band of gold supported rubies cut into points that looked like teeth. A pair of carved obsidian spear points had been secured to the golden band. They looked almost like daggers. She imagined they were meant to give the illusion of Dragon horns. Lord Malister held the crown above her head and spoke once more. ¡°Here kneels the last of her house, but the first of her name. Humbled by the power of our Mother, Vocaria. Strengthened by it. Protected by it. May the blessing of Vocaria shield her against her foes, guide her hand in counsel, and be the light that shines in her darkest hour.¡± He placed the crown on her head. The sharp rubies pressed into her skull. ¡°Rise, Eliza Zaryph. Rise, my Queen. Rise, and lead our Mother¡¯s children. The Sun has shown us the way. Lead us there and may your reign be long and the lives of our enemies short.¡± She rose and took the hand lord Malister offered her, kissing his jeweled fingers. She hid her disgust and waited for the man to withdraw. He bowed and took a position beside the throne, the young man standing behind him. She looked out over the crowd. At the bottom of the dais, Galoria stood at the head of the gathered nobles. Her guards separated the dais from the crowd and in the empty walkway that divided the gathered lords and ladies down the center stood her father. Blood soaked his fine shirt from where his throat had been slashed. His body burned and the air suddenly smelled like smoke. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn¡¯t real, of course. His body had been returned to Vocaria on a pyre, his ashes buried in the royal crypts. She opened her eyes and had to stop herself from taking a step back. Her father stood over her, breathing down her neck. She clenched her jaw and held back the urge to gag against the stench of her father¡¯s corpse. She refused to look at him and stared straight ahead. The hushed silence stretched until Galoria cleared her throat. She blinked. Her father disappeared but the blood gushing from his throat had sprayed across her white cloak and dress. She looked down at her hands at the blood dripping from her fingers, forming a pool around her feet. It slowly spilled down the steps of the dais. She balled her hands into fists and held them out to her sides. ¡°My lords and ladies,¡± she said. ¡°Not so long ago, on a cold winter night, death came for my house. And death had its way with us. But it did not succeed. I am the last of our royal blood, but I am not the last Dragon. We are all of us blessed by Vocaria. The world knows of our power and fears us, because we are all of us Dragons. We will not bend to the fears of cowards who come with knives in the dark. Dragons know no fear.¡± The nobles roared, shaking raised fists, clapping, and shouting her name. She raised a bloody hand and slowly they settled down. ¡°We will not bend, but neither shall we strike with blind rage. The assassins who attacked my family are still out there. Our enemies are watching, waiting for us to make our move. And without knowing who they are, surely whatever move we make would come with grave consequences. ¡°That is why my first declaration as queen is not one of war, but of patience. We will not strike at anyone until we know for certain who sent those cowards after my family.¡± That wasn¡¯t met with any cheering, just as she¡¯d thought. Galoria had told her that everyone assumed the Kobari sent the assassins and now the kingdom expected to go to war with their neighbor to the south. ¡°Believe me my lords and ladies. I will never forget that night. It haunts me still when I close my eyes. I will not forget, and I will not forgive. Whoever is responsible will die begging for a quick and painless death. ¡°But for now, I urge you to stand with me. We must remain strong and prepare ourselves for whatever may come in the future. Whatever that may be, I promise you we will be victorious. For we are the children of Vocaria. And may the Sun guide us all.¡± She allowed a few moments to pass before she descended the steps of the dais. Her guards flowed in around her, flanking both sides of the walkway. Galoria fell in beside her. ¡°I believe that went well,¡± she said to the small woman after they¡¯d left the great hall. The slow murmur of conversation picked up and followed them out into the hallway. ¡°You almost choked, didn¡¯t you?¡± Galoria said under her breath. ¡°Was it that obvious?¡± ¡°Only to those with eyes, I suppose. Who did you see this time?¡± ¡°My father,¡± she said. ¡°I see. Is it getting worse?¡± She glanced down at her hands, now without a speck of blood, and nodded. She hated to admit it. She didn¡¯t even want to admit it to herself. Opening up to Galoria had taken a lot of effort, but once she had she realized it was better than keeping it all to herself. Wide open doors lined the main hallway. The palace, like much of the city had been built to scale to accommodate the size of the Dragon form. Dragons in their summoned armor strode the hallway and bowed to her as she passed. The Masters of Law and War had both decided it best to increase patrols of Dragon form guards in the palace and around the city to maintain security and order. Before Galoria could respond a tall, thin man with dark brown skin and a long black beard approached them. He wore a flowing blue robe and his head was shaved bald. Gamron Nutu, the ambassador of Kobar, bowed deeply as her guards moved to stand between them. Gamron smiled at the guards, paying no heed to the hands resting on pommels. ¡°Your Majesty,¡± he said. ¡°I wanted to congratulate you personally on your coronation. And to acknowledge the wisdom in your speech. It should go without saying that Kobar remains committed to maintaining the peace between our two great nations.¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it,¡± Galoria said. She couldn¡¯t hold back her smile as Gamron glanced at the little woman. ¡°Ambassador,¡± she said. ¡°Thank you for the kind words. It comforts me to know how you feel about the peace. I would hate for there to be a war between us.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°Yes, I would really prefer to avoid a war,¡± she said flatly. ¡°And so I do hope that Kobar had nothing to do with my family¡¯s murder.¡± The smile slipped from Gamron¡¯s face. ¡°Your Majesty, of course we had nothing to do with it. The Sword Lions don¡¯t send assassins. They send armies. Enough to trample the earth flat beneath their feet.¡± ¡°Oh, good,¡± she said. ¡°I thought so. But it doesn¡¯t hurt to be sure. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have an appointment to get to.¡± She didn¡¯t wait for a response and left the Kobari ambassador behind as she continued down the wide hallway. Her guards formed a loose perimeter around her. ¡°Is it wise,¡± Galoria said after they¡¯d put some distance between them and the ambassador, ¡°to be so short with him? And so direct? He paid you his respects and you responded with a threat and a curt dismissal.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve known him longer than I. What do you think? Have I made a mistake already?¡± ¡°No. He¡¯s not a young man with a need to prove himself. But in the future it¡¯s best to remain as courteous as possible. The only time you make a threat is when you¡¯re already committed to it. Like you said in your speech, make no move until you know the truth. If you¡¯re found contradicting yourself you¡¯ll lose the confidence and trust of those around you.¡± But she was committed. The arrow was pointing nowhere currently, but the bowstring had been pulled back, waiting to release death upon those responsible. ¡°I would prefer to view it as keeping them on their toes by remaining unpredictable. If they don¡¯t know my next move then it would force them into a cautious position.¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.????¡°Which would make it harder to catch them in the middle of a reckless move.¡± ¡°Well, I suppose there¡¯s wisdom in that,¡± she said. ¡°You know I¡¯m not very well trained to deal with politics. I was never meant to inherit the throne. I¡¯m likely to beat someone over the head if I happen to lose my temper, despite what I said back there. It¡¯s good that no one openly opposed my coronation, but how do I get them to really support me?¡± ¡°Like I said before, be courteous, but firm. They need to know you aren¡¯t weak. They¡¯ll test you. They¡¯ll look for weakness and if you lose your patience and ¡®beat one over the head¡¯ you won¡¯t gain their loyalty. You need allies who¡¯ll die for you. Not servants who¡¯ll betray you for a better deal.¡± ¡°Galoria, won¡¯t you reconsider my offer. I need someone with your experience to advise me.¡± ¡°I am advising you.¡± ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°I mean, officially. I¡¯m going to need advisors I can trust.¡± ¡°Unfortunately I¡¯ll have to disappoint you. The Light Brigade needs me and I already have too many responsibilities that I can¡¯t pass on yet. But I¡¯ll be around. Just like I was today.¡± Galoria smiled and patted her on the shoulder. She couldn¡¯t help but smile back. She loved Galoria. The woman had been her family¡¯s vassal for decades. Which was odd to think about considering how the little woman looked to be in her early twenties. With her family gone, she had no one to talk to anymore who saw her as a woman and not just as a royal. Not even her maid Daria would act so familiar with her. Practically speaking, Galoria was the only real family she had left. ¡°Now, I understand you have duties to attend to,¡± Galoria said. ¡°So let me reiterate the obvious before I let you go. Don¡¯t let anyone catch on to your visions. Most people would accept it as a normal response for what you went through but not all. ¡°It only takes one to spin it against you and poison the minds of anyone who¡¯ll listen. Stay strong, and may the Sun guide you.¡± ¡°May the Sun guide you, as well, Galoria,¡± she said. She gave the small woman a warm embrace and watched her disappear down a side corridor. She took a breath and let it out slowly. The rubies in her crown bit into her scalp, reminding her of the weight of her new title, as if she were likely to forget. She led her guards down the main hallway and found a flight of stairs that took her to the top floor of the main tower. The Masters of her council would be making their way up shortly. It was customary for high born nobles in the city to attend a coronation. This one had been a small event, but she¡¯d seen some of the Masters in the crowd so she felt assured that she wouldn¡¯t be late. The stairs led her to another wide hallway. Stained glass windows decorated not just the walls at the end of the hallway, but on the ceiling as well. Light streamed through the ceiling. Heat greeted her the moment she stepped out of the stairwell. The doors of the council chamber stood shut. A pair of Dragon form guards stood at the ready as well as a pair of normal guardsmen. They bowed the moment their eyes laid on her. She walked up to the doors and examined the tall carved wood. Both doors had Dragons and Lycans carved into them, with a prominent Dragon on one door and a Lycan on the other. They held large swords in one hand as if to use them. But they each extended the other, gripping each other¡¯s wrist. Behind them kneeling Dragons and Lycans lifted their hands toward the sky. One of the guards swept a hand toward the doors. ¡°Would you like to go inside, Majesty? Several of the Masters are currently holding counsel.¡± ¡°I believe I shall, guardsman.¡± The Dragon form guards pushed open the tall heavy doors and the guardsman who had spoken to her walked inside, announcing her arrival. Her personal guards followed her inside, taking positions inside the door and near the tall arching windows. She found her seat at the head of the table on the far side of the chamber. The captain of her guards followed her around, pulling out her chair and checking it for any signs of tampering. He nodded his approval a moment later and she took her seat with him taking a position behind her. The Masters of Coin and Labor sat next to each other, whispering to each other over several books laid open before them. They rose to their feet upon her arrival and bowed in unison. The North lords Gregor Deverre, Master of Coin, and Joryn Tillmont, Master of Labor wore fine rich clothing native to their northern climate, heavy and more suitable for taking a walk through a cold winter night. Lord Deverre flashed her a crooked smile. ¡°Greetings, your Majesty. Please forgive us for not attending your coronation. We believed it prudent to prepare for the first council session of your reign.¡± ¡°I take it,¡± she said, ¡°that there is much to discuss about the price of fish and grain?¡± ¡°And the price of weapons too, Majesty,¡± he said. ¡°With the future so uncertain we need to prepare for whatever storm may blow our way.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± lord Tillmont said. ¡°Who can say which of our enemies will try to capitalize on our recent loss? We need to reinforce our infrastructure, build up our crumbling defenses.¡± She wanted to tell them they were over reacting, but Galoria had reminded her not to be so direct. Instead she nodded along. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°Very wise words, my lords. Lucidia is fortunate to have you serving her. I imagine we¡¯ve grown lax in the last several decades since our last war.¡± She left the fact unsaid that it was their northern houses who had started the civil war that had ripped Lucidia in half. The tall doors opened once more admitting in the remaining Masters. They greeted her in turn before taking their seats. The session went just about how she expected it to go. Long and dull. Her captain fetched her refreshments several times during the course of the session. The large stained glass ceiling rained a heavy red heat upon the chamber and she found herself wanting to remove her crown and cloak. Galoria would have advised against it. Several times the conversation drifted toward the recent rise in the cost of wheat. The navy¡¯s ships were aging and needed repair. The North lords, as they did every year, complained about the renegade Lycans to the north raiding from beyond the Dreadnaughts. Which was, of course, ridiculous. No one had who had been sent from the south to document and observe these raiders had ever seen any. Everyone knew to overlook these wild claims. Some even took it as a joke. ¡°Your Majesty,¡± said lord Larkon Ramporr. "The recent increase in patrols has had a positive impact upon the city. Crime has plummeted around the river districts. I must apologize though that we have still yet to apprehend the culprits responsible.¡± Lord Ramporr trailed off and looked down at his stack of papers. It looked as though he meant to hide the shame from his face. She knew the assassination had hit him hard. Among all the high houses, House Larkon had been her family¡¯s oldest and most loyal vassals. As Master of Law it was not just his responsibility to assist the monarch in drafting into existence new laws and prosecuting those who violated them, but it was also his duty to see them enforced. That his city guards hadn¡¯t been able to defend the royal family meant failing to maintain peace and order. That and the old man had been childhood friends with her father. ¡°Raise your head, my lord. I feel your pain as though it were my own. If our Mother wills it, we will avenge my family. Lord Razek.¡± The Master of Intelligence looked up at her from a piece of parchment. His shrewd gray eyes held her for a moment as though her were reading her mind. ¡°Yes, Majesty?¡± he said. ¡°As Master of Intelligence, it should now be your highest priority in investigating my family¡¯s murder. Whatever else you may be working on will have to wait, or at least delegate to someone else. I want your best working on this.¡± ¡°Of course, Majesty. In fact, I¡¯ve already begun. And you can be sure that I¡¯ll be working closely with our Master of Law.¡± He gave lord Ramporr a nod and went back to reading his parchment. That almost irritated her, how the man could so easily go back to reading as though he were having tea with children. ¡°Very good, lord Razek,¡± she said. ¡°I would also like to take the opportunity to remind you all of one thing. For those of you who attended my coronation, you already heard me say this but for those of you who weren¡¯t I will say this for you,¡± she said looking pointedly at lords Deverre and Tillmont. ¡°Whatever rumors you may have heard, we are not declaring war on Kobar. For that matter, we are not going to war with anyone until we know for certain who attacked us. Lord Razek, I do look forward to learning the results of your investigation.¡± One of the Masters spoke out in a deep, strong voice. ¡°Your Grace, you should know the Kobari have been stirring on the southern border. They claim it¡¯s only standard military exercise but I would believe otherwise. And the Meradonians have been increasing their aggression on Lake Solaris, going so far as to seize some of our trading vessels. ¡°It is wise of you not to react based upon assumptions. Such a move is what a clever opponent would want you to do. But I would strongly advise you keep in mind the very real possibility of war in our near future. I¡¯ve begun readying the legions and with Lords Deverre and Tillmont¡¯s assistance we¡¯ll begin to fund the expansion of our offensive and defensive capabilities.¡± ¡°Lord Renail,¡± she said ¡°you have served as our Master of War for many years now and have earned the respect and gratitude of our kingdom. I trust your judgment. But rest assured. Do not take my hesitation as a sign of reluctance. I have seen war in my dreams every night since that night and I¡¯d be a fool for believing we could avoid one now.¡± As she spoke her mother dragged herself toward her upon the council table, her blood soaking the books and papers spread across the dark wood. Behind the Masters, flames twisted violently and smoke curled around their heads, filling the high ceiling of the chamber. Her mother crawled toward the edge of the table where she sat and slumped weakly against the dark wood. A soft moan escaped her blood red lips, her blue eyes staring lifelessly at her. The light of the flames danced upon her mother¡¯s pale cheeks. Despite the oppressive heat in the chamber she felt cold under the folds of her fur lined white cloak. The ruby teeth of her crown suddenly sharper. ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± she said. ¡°War isn¡¯t coming soon. It¡¯s already here.¡± Chapter 7 - Saul ¡°No shit,¡± he said. ¡°You really meant it?¡± Alazar Maxillion took a long gulp of ale before slamming his mug upon the table with a satisfied sigh. The man leaned back in his chair and looked up at him with a smirk. ¡°Every word, lad. I¡¯m royalty. Now, I¡¯m far from the main line but there be king¡¯s blood running through these veins.¡± Taren stared, his jaw dropping like he couldn¡¯t believe it even after listening to the captain brag about it the entire way to the Tipsy Gelding. ¡°We actually met a royal,¡± Taren marveled. ¡°In Falden of all places.¡± He rolled his eyes and snorted. ¡°What¡¯s so great about it?¡± he asked. Even so he couldn¡¯t help but lower his guard around the man. Alazar threw his weight around lightheartedly as if he found something funny about his rank and wanted others to be in on the joke. But despite that he couldn¡¯t get too comfortable. After all, they hadn¡¯t met under the best circumstances. More importantly, Alazar lead the soldier¡¯s who¡¯d come to Falden. The very same ones lord Albryte threatened to force him into joining. He couldn¡¯t tell if it was his imagination or not but Alazar didn¡¯t seem quite like the fool his boyish demeanor would have him believe. The way the captain carried himself through Falden¡¯s streets, occasionally brushing the hilt of his sword with a lazy hand, told him the captain was no stranger to his blade. The soldiers in the Tipsy Gelding¡¯s common room rose from their chairs, greeting them with a well disciplined salute when Alazar threw open the inn¡¯s doors calling for food and ale. Alazar motioned a few of his men over to their table. A tall man with closely trimmed red hair took an open seat on Alazar¡¯s left while another with blonde hair pulled back and tied in a loose top knot took one on his right. He¡¯d seen hard men his whole life, living so deep in the Rockwood valley. The Dreadnaughts were as harsh as they were beautiful and the weak did not survive for long. These men were harder. Thin scars crisscrossed the taller man¡¯s hands and face. If not for his close scrutiny he might have missed them. So thin and pale they were, hiding well within his equally pale skin. The other¡¯s eyes glowed a piercingly blue that reminded him of shallow pools he once found sitting above the ice of a glacier hidden deep in the heart of the mountains. So clear and pure on the surface, but the deeper you looked the murkier it got as the bottom became a tunnel lost in the ice. Those eyes filled a face carved out of rock, his cheek bones as sharp and angled as his jaw. The sides of his head were shaved clear and in place of hair, tattoos decorated the skin. ¡°The sour looking guy is Kevan,¡± Alazar said, clapping the blonde, tattooed man beside him on the shoulder. ¡°And the quiet one is Marron.¡± Kevan crossed his arms and grunted. Marron inclined his head respectfully, studying them with partially veiled interest. The innkeeper, a fat balding man with a spring in his step, set a tray of steamed vegetables and honey glazed ham on the table along with a new pitcher of ice cold Rockwood ale and several empty glasses for the pair. ¡°Don¡¯t let them bother you, lads,¡± Alazar said. ¡°They¡¯re both squad leaders. Figured they¡¯d like to have a look at you.¡± The captain filled his plate and began to stuff his face, pointing at him with his fork. ¡°This one here fought those hot headed fools this morning and whooped them like I did both of you back in the day. Raemis¡¯s boys, I mean,¡± he added between mouthfuls. Marron glanced at him, amused. ¡°How do you know that?¡± Marron asked. ¡°Because I was there. I¡¯m not exactly blind, Marron. It was pretty damn satisfying, I¡¯ll admit. If I had to listen to that little shit Barin whine one more time I was likely to rip his tongue out and stuff it down his throat." Beside him Kevan chuckled and helped himself to a plate of the ham and vegetables. ¡°Wish I¡¯d been there to see that,¡± the blonde man said regretfully. ¡°That reminds me,¡± Alazar said nodding at him. ¡°I wanted to hear your story.¡± The man reached over the table and filled his glass with a smile. ¡°Let¡¯s start with who taught you how to fight like that.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s fairly simple,¡± he started. ¡°Most men around here know how to use a staff or an ax. And some are good with a bow. But it was my father who taught me how to fight with a sword. Taught us both actually,¡± he gestured at his brother. ¡°Where¡¯d he pick up his skills?¡± Maron asked. He thought about it for a moment and shrugged. ¡°He fought in the war against the North lords. From the legions I would think.¡± ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡± Kevan asked. ¡°Allanir,¡± he said. Kevan grunted, stabbing his ham with a fork. ¡°Never heard of him.¡± ¡°Oh come now, Kevan,¡± Alazar chided. ¡°Not everyone who lived got a chance to make a name for themselves.¡± The captain regarded Taren for a moment before looking at him once more. ¡°Allanir, huh? How does he spell it? With one ¡®l¡¯ or two?¡± ¡°Uh, two. Right?¡± he said, arching an eyebrow at his brother. ¡°Yeah, I think so,¡± Taren nodded. Alazar drummed his fingers on the table and cocked his head to the side. ¡°It isn¡¯t strange for a peasant to know his numbers, but to know how to spell someone¡¯s name is another thing entirely. I¡¯d wager you both know how to read and write.¡± He stared at the man across the table, at a loss for words. Alazar grinned and held up his hand in apology. ¡°Peace, lad. Just wanted to know how much you¡¯ve learned. I already heard a little about your upbringing from lord Albryte. ¡°Your father was the master of arms for the previous lord, Victor Silvertree, before Raemis came along. But Raemis recognized your father¡¯s talents enough to keep him for a short while. Meaning both of you must have grown up in that manor. ¡°Must be tough looking at it from the outside knowing someone else is likely sleeping in your bed.¡± He frowned into his cup. If he stared hard enough he could almost see his pitiful reflection in the ale¡¯s dark surface. ¡°Did he tell you what happened after that?¡± A long silence fell over the table, broken only by the sound of Kevan slurping his ale until Taren cleared his throat. Alazar sighed and poured himself another drink. ¡°So you learned to fight from your old man, eh? How about it then? Want to join the lads here and wear a fancy uniform? Put that training to good use?¡± The captain wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. ¡°Thank you for the offer, my lord,¡± he said carefully. This was exactly what he was afraid the man was going to do. ¡°But I can¡¯t accept. Father¡¯s health is getting worse by the day and I don¡¯t want to leave his side. I hope you can understand.¡± Alazar¡¯s face remained the same, bright and cheerful, but something in his eyes told him he¡¯d let the man down. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that, lad. Might there be something I can do? I know a good doctor or two back in Solaren. You don¡¯t need to worry about the cost either. I¡¯ll handle it.¡± The sincerity in his voice took him by surprise. Did the nobleman really care about his father or did he simply want to remove the obstacle in his way? ¡°You¡¯re too kind, sir,¡± Taren said. His brother was a lot better than him at speaking. He¡¯d thank the soldier for his offer and turn him down gently. He relaxed, taking a drink of his ale. ¡°Thank you so much. If there¡¯s any way you can help our father we¡¯d be in your debt.¡± He almost choked as Taren wrapped a big arm around his shoulders. ¡°Can you believe our luck!¡± Taren cheered. His brother downed his drink and refilled it a moment later. A chill settled across his back despite the cozy warmth of the common room. Alazar smiled as Taren thanked him once more. ¡°It¡¯s the least I could do for a fellow soldier. I¡¯d love to meet him sometime.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Taren said. ¡°You should come to our house tonight for dinner. I¡¯m sure father would enjoy the company. But you should know he¡¯s not fond of his memories of the war.¡± ¡°Very few men are,¡± Alazar said. ¡°I¡¯ll most certainly take you up on that offer.¡± The man reclined in his chair and studied him for a moment as though he were trying to read his mind. ¡°You needn¡¯t worry, Lad. I won¡¯t hold it against you. It¡¯s just when a man has the power to do something good for someone other than himself it¡¯s a damn shame if he chooses not to.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.????¡°I see,¡± he said slowly. ¡°I just don¡¯t have much trust in nobles these days.¡± ¡°Perhaps you simply need to expand your horizons. Go out and see the world. You¡¯ve been caged here your whole life, haven¡¯t you?¡± He glanced pointedly at the man and Alazar laughed. Then a grave look suddenly took over Alazar¡¯s boyish charm, surrounded by an air of intensity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. ¡°What do you know about the Blessing and the Curse?¡± He blinked at the sudden change in topic. ¡°The what?¡± ¡°Vocaria¡¯s Blessing and Fengar¡¯s Curse. What do you know about them?¡± ¡°It¡¯s what the North lords used to justify slavery long after we got rid of it in the south,¡± Taren jumped in. ¡°And?¡± Alazar said, eying them both. ¡°And it¡¯s all bullshit,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s no blessing or curse laid down on us by some fairy tale god in the woods. There¡¯s nothing to say one person is favored over another. The Dragon and Lycan forms are just byproducts of cultivation and gaining power.¡± ¡°So you don¡¯t hate Lycan form cultivators?¡± ¡°Of course not, why would I? If there¡¯s anyone I should hate it¡¯s the Dragons. The Arloni enslaved us for centuries.¡± He bit his lip to keep himself from shouting. ¡°You¡¯re entirely right, Saul. My ancestors committed many acts that damned them. But you¡¯re half Arloni. Just like your brother. ¡°If your parents could have a family together despite their differences then surely we as a country can live peacefully with one another, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°Where are you going with this?¡± he asked, losing his patience. ¡°I¡¯m just curious, is all. You have the look of a Delcairan, but Arloni blood flows through you just the same. Taren here looks just as Arloni as me but he¡¯s half Delcairan. ¡°No one descended from both races have ever been able to cultivate beyond the first World and manifest the form of their soul. So I wonder what would happen if either of you could? Would you be a Dragon or a Lycan?¡± He sighed heavily and took a long drink of his ale until the cup was empty. Of course he felt grateful for Alazar¡¯s help in slipping them out of the mansion but this man was gradually getting on his nerves. ¡°I¡¯m going to cultivate as much as I possibly can until I can¡¯t grow any further,¡± he said eventually. ¡°If I never break into the second World, then so be it. But if I do, I¡¯d want to cultivate the Lycan form. Dragons look fierce but I¡¯ve always thought Lycans looked¡­stronger.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Alazar said, nodding thoughtfully. He glanced over at Taren who looked down at his plate when their eyes met. It was time to end the conversation before Alazar asked any more weird questions. ¡°Thank you, by the way, for not calling for the guards earlier,¡± he said. ¡°What happened was a private matter between me and them.¡± He stood and offered Alazar a small bow. He figured if the man hadn¡¯t lied about his relation to the royal family he deserved that much at least. ¡°I have to go, but I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see you again soon.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet, lad.¡± Alazar said. He frowned at the sudden fright in Taren¡¯s eyes and followed his brother¡¯s gaze. Half a dozen of lord Albryte¡¯s guards filled the entrance to the Tipsy Gelding¡¯s common room with a very angry Barin standing at the front. The young lord¡¯s face lit up with furry the moment his gaze found him. ¡°Arrest him!¡± Barin screeched. The guards fanned out through the room, faces grim and thirsting for his blood. Around him, the sound of chairs screeching against the inn¡¯s hardwood floor cut through the air as all the soldiers in the room stood at once. The guards hesitated, not entirely sure what to make of it. ¡°What are you waiting for? Arrest him.¡± Alazar pushed himself to his feet and came to stand beside him, his boyish flair back once more as if it had never left. The captain studied Barin with a curious look and chuckled loudly for the whole room to hear. ¡°And what is this about? If I¡¯ve offended you in any way I sincerely apologize. Let¡¯s talk it over. No need to get your men involved.¡± ¡°What?¡± Barin sputtered. ¡°No, not you. Him.¡± Barin jabbed a long thin finger at him and sneered. The bruise left behind after getting struck across his eyes looked ridiculous. His brow was swollen and his checks were painted black and purple. ¡°That dog assaulted me. And in my own home no less. I¡¯ll have your head, peasant,¡± the young man spat at him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you feel that way, but you can¡¯t have him.¡± Alazar said casually. Barin opened his mouth to fire off a retort when a gasp filled the room. Several of the guards looked as though they wanted to be anywhere else but there. Alazar¡¯s eyes flickered blue. Not their natural blue, but the phantasmal color found at the center of a flame. And like a flame, the color danced and waved over the whole of his eyes as though the inside of his skull were a raging inferno. ¡°Holy dragonmother,¡± Taren gasped. Barin found his voice, smoothing over his face with a shaky grin. ¡°You¡¯re bluffing, Alazar. If you get in my way you¡¯ll by making an enemy of my father. The lord of the Rockwood Valley.¡± Alazar chuckled. He picked a knife off a plate and tossed it straight up into the air. He caught it by its point, balancing it on the tip of his finger. Barin regarded the knife warily. His guards shuffled nervously, glancing back and forth between Alazar and the soldiers who silently watched, hands resting nonchalantly on the pommels of their swords. ¡°Your father is not as important as you clearly believe, lad. Take this knife for example. It¡¯s dull and unimpressive. There¡¯s a reason no one cares much about it. It¡¯s easily replaceable. If I don¡¯t like it, I can simply get rid of it.¡± A blue flame erupted from his fingertip and the knife disappeared in a flash. The flames wavered and flickered out a moment later. The knife was simply gone. ¡°So you see, it¡¯s rather simple. If you don¡¯t want to find yourself becoming the son of the former lord of Falden, then I suggest you take your men out for a stroll around the village. The weather¡¯s fine today. I bet they¡¯ll enjoy it.¡± Barin¡¯s eyes bulged. He wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if the young lord soiled himself. One of his guards whispered in his ear and the young man nodded slowly. Barin glanced at him for a moment and a flash of hatred glimmered underneath the fear. Then he grimaced and spun on his heels, shoving his way through the guards blocking the door. They glanced over their shoulders as they shuffled out, as if expecting an explosion of essence to follow them outside. Alazar let out a long sigh and the blue flames in his eyes wavered and disappeared. ¡°Alright everyone. Sorry about that. Everything¡¯s fine. Don¡¯t let me get in between you and your drinks.¡± A couple soldiers laughed, resuming their seats. Alazar flashed him a boyish grin. ¡°I think that went well.¡± ¡°You threatened to kill his father,¡± he said, stunned. The most powerful man in the valley. For him. Alazar shrugged and picked his cup off the table. ¡°I¡¯ll talk it over with old man Raemis. He¡¯ll understand. Boys like that don¡¯t simply take no for an answer. You have to show them a little force.¡± He shook his head, rethinking what he thought of the man. ¡°What was that before? With the fire? I didn¡¯t know essence could be used like that.¡± ¡°Ha! Jealous, lad? Don¡¯t tell me you didn¡¯t think that was impressive.¡± He hated to admit it, but in fact he did. Now that the guards were gone, Marron and his brother struck up a quiet conversation while Kevan studied him with a cold unblinking stare. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about what you meant earlier,¡± Alazar said suddenly. ¡°Three things make a cultivator powerful but only one will make him strong. I can think of plenty reasons why someone¡¯s powerful. But what makes you strong?¡± ¡°It¡¯s something my father once told me,¡± he said quietly. And without another word he left the Tipsy Gelding, leaving behind his brother in a room full of soldiers and a man who wielded essence in a way he couldn¡¯t even begin to understand. Chapter 8 - Saul A cold wind slammed him, thrashing his hair about as a shiver bolted down his spine. A thin sheet of sweat clung to his arms and chest. His shirt and cloak lay in the grass where he¡¯d balled them up and thrown them. Essence filled his body, surging like a swollen river until his limit burst, flooding his veins with power. Finally, he¡¯d reached the peak of an Essence Practitioner. The ninth realm of the first World. And it was all thanks to the ring. He looked down at the cold, black band wrapped around his left index finger. A wave of satisfaction washed over him. He had no idea how it worked but it made cultivating a breeze. At first it shamed him to rely on something other than himself, but the more he thought about it the more it seemed right that he used it. The twins had everything handed to them since birth and never once knew what it was like to struggle for what they had. They didn¡¯t know how to appreciate and properly use what was given to them and yet they cultivated shamelessly as if they had done it all on their own. The lesson he took away from that was power didn¡¯t care how you got it. The world didn¡¯t exist as a meritocracy. The nobles didn¡¯t play by the rules they imposed on peasants so why should he? The only thing that truly mattered in the end was the result. With that in mind he found it easy to use the ring. It was obviously something of tremendous value and he understood quite clearly the future it opened up for him. He didn¡¯t care that every other mixed blood cultivator failed to manifest the form or their soul. It simply meant that he¡¯d be the first one do to so. And the ring was going to help him do it. He took a deep breath. Eyes closed, feet wide apart. The sword he held out before him was all steel. None of that worthless practice wood nonsense. Unless you were wielding a staff a weapon should have some real weight behind it. The Dragon in his mind roared and swung a wicked blade for his head. He ducked and rolled to the side. A tail swept the brown grass underneath his feet right before he jumped. He slashed out with his blade and the tail parted without a spray of blood. The Dragon form had a physical presence. That much was obvious. But the form appeared and disappeared around the one who used it, like a cloak of essence. No, that wasn¡¯t quite right. It replaced the body of the user. He didn¡¯t have enough time to think about it when the Dragon lunged, blue eyes burning like a roaring fire. He didn¡¯t bother with a parry. The Dragon¡¯s strength would either break his sword or knock him off his feet. He ducked, sweeping his blade up and cutting through the Dragon¡¯s wrist. Its eyes widened in shock as the hand gripping its blade fell to the ground. But it didn¡¯t stop. Another sword appeared in its other hand and came down on his head in a blur. He was dead before he knew it. Again he tried. And again. And again. Each time he died because he wasn¡¯t fast enough. If he ever fought the twins where they held nothing back he would die for sure. He opened his eyes and sighed. The sun was less than an hour away from disappearing behind the wall of mountains brushing the sky. The fading light bathed his skin in a vibrant heat but the occasional gust chilled him to the bone. He wiped away the sweat that trickled down his brow. The sword felt good in his hands. The rough leather wrapped around the hilt caressed his calluses, reminding him of all the hours he¡¯d spent with the blade. His blood and sweat soaked up by the old leather. The weight of the steel drew out his worries like a lode stone. It grounded him. Without it he just didn¡¯t feel whole. Reluctantly he sheathed the blade into a plain scabbard buckled onto his belt and slipped back into his shirt. After shaking out his cloak he refastened it around his shoulders and left the empty field. Lazy wisps of smoke curling into the air told him where to go. He wasn¡¯t far but neither was he in a hurry to go back. Why did Taren have to invite that man over for dinner? After thinking about it all afternoon he decided to stay as far away from the captain as he could. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t weird for royalty to serve in the legions, but why would someone so important visit a backwater village like Falden? Was he really recruiting? Maybe he was over thinking it but he was sure of two things. The captain held way too much interest in him. And he was dangerous. The image of the knife disappearing in the flame wouldn¡¯t fade away no matter how hard he tried not to think about it. By the time he arrived darkness settled upon the village. A streetlamp outside his home lit the narrow road, bathing his front door in a yellow light. He paused, hearing voices coming from within. Alazar¡¯s laughter was unmistakable. Not that he knew it by heart. He just couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d heard laughter at home. He thought about going somewhere else until he knew for sure the captain wouldn¡¯t be there when he felt a sudden change in the air. Without thinking he spun, gripping the hilt of his sword. Nothing. The street was empty. He bit his lip and cursed. He was not afraid. And fuck Alazar. It wasn¡¯t much but it was still his home. And he was hungry. As he reached for the door a hand grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm, while another clamped over his mouth, stuffing a foul rag between his jaws. A spike of panic pierced his skull. His heart suddenly pounded in his ears. He¡¯d expected something after provoking Cera and the twins, but not this. Not right here. He thrashed against the hands dragging him away, activating his essence body and throwing the full weight of his cultivation against them. No use. He thought of landing a kick on the door. If Alazar wanted him so badly he could at least put down the ale and do something. But it was too late. The door just barely out of reach. He groped around with his free hand, grasping for his assailant¡¯s hair, hoping to spin his way out when something hard slammed into his gut. His legs buckled. He coughed and bit down hard. A man blocking his view of the street wielded a small club. He slammed it again. Then again. And again. Tears pooled in his eyes clouding his vision and all the strength in his legs disappeared. A warmth spread down his legs. ¡°Look at that,¡± he heard. ¡°Little pup¡¯s gone and wet itself.¡± ¡°Tie him up and let¡¯s get outta here. We¡¯re not to be seen, remember?¡± He slumped to the ground as the hands holding him up dropped him onto the hard coble stone street. A thick rope bound his wrists and ankles and a moment later he was slung over a shoulder like a sack of grain. As they carried him down the street, panic dug further into his skull the farther away they got from home. In the small part of his mind still capable of thinking, he knew exactly what was about to happen. The two men found a dark alley and dropped him onto the cold ground. He couldn¡¯t see their faces but as they happened to walk under a lamp, the dim glow revealed the uniform worn by lord Albryte¡¯s household guard and he imagined those ugly, dimwitted faces he knew so well. One of them bent down and unbuckled his sword while another pulled out a knife. His thrashed as hard as he could, sobbing bitterly, cursing his fate. How dare they do this to him! How dare they shame him with his own tears. What was the point of all those years training? The sudden leaps and bounds made in his cultivation. He screamed through the rag stuffed deep in his mouth. He failed. He failed his brother. He failed his father. Even his mother who always scolded him, criticizing everything he did faster than she expressed her love for him. He failed her too. The man who took his sword wrapped himself tight in a heavy cloak. ¡°Just stick him already and get it over with. I¡¯m freezing.¡± ¡°Hold him steady then,¡± the other man said, kicking him relentlessly. Behind them a pair of red eyes blinked in the darkness. ¡°Did you hear me? Hold him stead-¡± A sword erupted from the guard¡¯s chest, lifting the man with the knife off his feet. He stared up at the man dangling above him, not fully comprehending what he saw. Had he been kicked in the head too hard? The man coughed, legs kicking. A wet gurgling noise escaped from his throat right before he was flung into his companion. It all happened so fast that the other man wrapped in his cloak reacted too late. A muffled cry was silenced a moment later. He lifted his head for a better view, blinking back tears and ignoring the pain in his ribs. A shadow loomed over the bodies of his captors. It towered well above seven feet tall. The blade in its hand long and thin and curved slightly near the tip. The shadow looked back at him, a pair of glowing red eyes floating in the darkness. Blood of my fathers. Was that a Lycan? A smaller shadow appeared at the mouth of the alley and the taller one bowed. The sword it held disappeared in a swirl of darkness that was somehow darker than the shadows of the alley. Boots thudding against the cobble stones echoed softly through the narrow alley as the smaller shadow drew close enough for him to make out the shape of a man. The stranger knelt, roughly cutting his bonds, and removed his gag. ¡°Who are you,¡± he rasped. ¡°Grendyl.¡± Wiping free the tears, he pushed himself up but fell back onto his face, his ribs throbbing with a sharp needle like pain. ¡°Grendyl, I could use a hand.¡± ¡°And be the crutch you lean on?¡± Grendyl mused. ¡°Find the strength to stand on your own. You¡¯ll thank me later.¡± He couldn¡¯t stop the laugh that escaped his dried lips. The pain spiked and he hugged his sides until he could breathe again. Harsh words given that he¡¯d just been saved, but meaningful none the less. Never again would he be humiliated like this. His lip curled in a silent snarl as he forced himself up to his knees, sucking in air through his teeth. It hurt like hell but he managed to rise on his own, barely holding onto his balance as he waited for the dizziness to pass. ¡°I¡¯ll thank you right now.¡± he said. ¡°Those men are dead while I live.¡± He paused, squinting through the darkness. ¡°They are dead, right?¡± ¡°As cold as death and growing colder.¡± He straightened himself and flinched as a fresh wave of pain flared through his back. ¡°You saved my life, Grendyl,¡± he breathed. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to, but you did.¡± ¡°Is that a thank you?¡± Grendyl asked. A touch of amusement in his tone. He frowned, feeling awkward. ¡°It is,¡± he admitted. ¡°But never mind that. Your friend has red eyes.¡± He glanced at the hulking shadow standing behind the man. ¡°All Lycans do.¡± His breath caught, suddenly forgetting all about the pain coursing through his body. ¡°I¡¯ve only ever seen them in paintings.¡± Grendyl said nothing for a moment. He thought the man was staring out at the street but then he spoke, voice lowered to a whisper. ¡°You can see them again. There¡¯s somewhere I can take you where there are others like us. Where I can show you how to cultivate it properly.¡± ¡°You can teach me?¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± Grendyl said. ¡°I¡¯d certainly make a better master than that man you met today.¡± His mind drew a blank as he stared at Grendyl¡¯s shadowed face hoping for a better look. ¡°Who, Alazar?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t trust him.¡± ¡°How do you know about that?¡± he asked. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I know a lot about this place. You¡¯ve done well in getting stronger and looking out for yourself. But as you¡¯ve just learned it only takes one mistake to lose it all.¡± Grendyl turned and snapped over his shoulder, his voice like iron. ¡°Gordyn.¡± The Lycan moved, dragging one of the dead guards between them. Grendyl bent down and picked up the knife that was meant for him. ¡°Before you can even consider my offer, however,¡± Grendyl said. ¡°You have debts to settle. Starting with this one.¡± He eyed the knife Grendyl offered him and glanced at the guard, remembering the voice he¡¯d heard. Kalys Murk struggled feebly. The front of his shirt stained in blood where the Lycan¡¯s sword ripped through him. Now that he was close again he heard once more the soft gurgling of the man choking back blood. ¡°You said they were dead.¡± ¡°They are,¡± Grendyl asserted. ¡°Gordyn missed his vitals. With enough time he¡¯ll die from the blood loss. But won¡¯t that mean he escaped what he¡¯s due?¡± He looked back at the knife and understood. He feared what his father would say, but the image of his face failed to surface in his mind. His voice silenced by the rush of blood pounding between his ears. Before he knew it he snatched the knife from Grendyl¡¯s hand and fell upon the master of arms, stabbing him in his belly. Right where the fucking cunt had kicked him dozens of times before. Kalys took it all, the most he moved barely more than a spasm. When the choking grew quiet he drove the knife under Kalys¡¯ chin, all the way to the hilt, and twisted. His bloodied hand slipped from the handle and he staggered over the man¡¯s corpse, falling to his knees. He clutched his head and bared his teeth in something that almost resembled a smile. His mind reeling with something he¡¯d never felt before. ¡°Good,¡± Grendyl said over him. ¡°Take this.¡± A little red bead dropped onto the stones between his feet. He picked it up without thinking. Grendyl¡¯s voice sounded from far away even though he stood close enough to touch. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.????¡°Your bones will heal quicker with the aid of a blood essence pill. I wouldn¡¯t hand this out to just anyone but you¡¯ve shown potential.¡± The Lycan dragged Kalys and the other guard further into the alley, swallowed moments later by the darkness. Grendyl stopped at the mouth of the alley and looked back at him. ¡°You¡¯re almost there, Saul. Just a little further and when you arrive we¡¯ll meet again.¡± He rose to his feet and staggered into a wall, still gripping the pill in his hand. His mind slowly emerging from that sudden fervor that had driven him mad. He slid his back against the wall, ignoring the cold seeping into his bones and the pain crawling back into his skull. His hand trembled when he held the pill up to his face. It almost slipped out from his fingers but he took a deep breath, ignoring a new wave of pain that flared when he did, and steadied his hand. His father could potentially benefit from taking it. A blood essence pill healed more than just broken bones. He should have felt amazed to even have one but the thought of his father made him gag. He lurched over and heaved. There was nothing in his stomach but a little bile that spattered from his lips. What would his father say if he¡¯d watched his son butcher another man? Was this not the justice he spoke of? Was this not what he wanted? He swallowed the pill. No, this was revenge. And now that he¡¯d had a taste it was already too late. Until now he¡¯d put on airs of killing the twins. He¡¯d fight them without holding back, thinking it would be enough if he proved his strength and walked away the victor, leaving them battered, their pride trampled on. That would have been justice. But it didn¡¯t go far enough. Only their deaths would satisfy his hunger for that strange feeling again. His body tingled from the effects of the pill and he found that he couldn¡¯t keep his eyes open any longer. When they opened again his sword sat in its scabbard, laid out in front of him. The knife settled on top, nestled in its own sheath, wiped clean of any blood. The thought occurred to him that he¡¯d almost died. Somehow it felt worse than the time when Cera had almost killed him. He was alone. And pathetically weak. Really, he should have died. But he hadn¡¯t. Someone had saved him again. The shame ran deep. Almost as deep as the pain tugging at his chest as he thought of how his family would have reacted to the news of his death. It pained him more than anything those guards had done as his eyes fell upon the knife. Followed by a deep, seething rage. ¡°Saul?¡± A dark face hovered over him. ¡°Fucking hell. There¡¯s so much blood! Help me get him up.¡± Another face bent down. Together they sat him up and leaned him against a wall. One of them lifted his shirt while the other started ripping pieces from their own cloak. ¡°I don¡¯t need a bandage,¡± he said, blinking up them. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± ¡°You telling me none of this blood is yours?¡± one of them scoffed. ¡°Whose is it then?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± he muttered. ¡°It¡¯s taken care of.¡± ¡°And what in bloody hell is that supposed to mean?¡± With a little effort he pushed himself back to his feet, carefully bent down and picked up the sword and knife, and buckled them on his belt, letting the question go unanswered. ¡°There¡¯s blood marks on the cobble stones, like something was dragged.¡± He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, reactivating his essence body. The blood essence pill miraculously mended his broken ribs and reduced swelling around his eyes. A faint tingling in his skin told him the pill still had yet to finish and would take a little while longer yet before he was fully healed. ¡°Never mind that,¡± he said. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± ¡°Well,¡± one of them hesitated. ¡°We were on our way to the next inn when nature called.¡± He stared, unamused and left the alley, feeling like he¡¯d fallen down a mountain. The two of them hurried after. The concern on their faces made clear by the glow of the streetlamps as they fell in beside him. Dylan, a burly youth with a small scar on his chin studied him carefully while Nash, a lanky young man wrapped himself in his cloak, eyeing the shadows passing by. ¡°You guys don¡¯t need to follow me. I can walk on my own,¡± he said flatly. Nash readjusted his glasses with a subtle frown. ¡°Saul, we¡¯re you¡¯re friends. It¡¯s okay to let us help.¡± He rounded suddenly on the thin little man who stumbled back with a short gasp, falling hard on the ground. His anger fled at the fright in Nash¡¯s eyes. He could only imagine how he looked to the other man. Beaten, face coated with dried blood. He took a deep breath, letting his anger cool. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t you show this much concern before now?¡± He muttered. Dylan got between them, helping Nash back to his feet. ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you?¡± Dylan said. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°Of course you don¡¯t,¡± he scolded under his breath. ¡°How could you possibly understand what it¡¯s like to live in a village that doesn¡¯t look at you as one of its own simply because of the color of your hair and eyes? ¡°Since you¡¯re caring so much all of a sudden I wonder what you think of Albryte¡¯s guards trying to stick me with this?¡± He drew the knife and shoved it under Nash¡¯s nose. The blonde man froze, eyes drawn to the sharp steel inches away from his face. Dylan hugged himself with an arm and held his forehead with the other as Nash slowly took his hand and lowered it. He pulled back, disgusted by the pity in their eyes, and slammed the knife back into its sheath. Silence fell between them, accompanied by the wind scraping over the nearby rooftops. ¡°If that¡¯s true,¡± Nash said slowly. ¡°Then I¡¯m telling you now, as your friend, to go home to your parents and say your goodbyes. You have to get as far away from here as possible or something even worse might happen.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Dylan jumped in. ¡°This isn¡¯t the way back to your house. Where are we going?¡± He kept his silence, instead focusing on the next step and the one after that. All until the street abruptly ended, followed by the wide open village commons. Dylan cursed when he saw their destination. ¡°You have got to be kidding. What do you think you¡¯re going to do? Walk in there and demand justice from the man who just tried to have you killed? You won¡¯t even get past the guards.¡± He looked Dylan in the eyes, his voice cutting low. ¡°The guards won¡¯t even see me.¡± ¡°What are you-¡± ¡°He¡¯s going to sneak in,¡± Nash said. ¡°I¡¯m right, aren¡¯t I?¡± He grimaced. ¡°Don¡¯t even try to stop me. But if you insist on being a nuisance at least make yourselves useful and keep a look out.¡± Dylan cursed again but Nash nodded solemnly. ¡°What are you planning to do?¡± ¡°Teach him a lesson.¡± They crossed the commons, followed by a heavy silence. Luckily for them a blanket of clouds covered the night sky, hiding them in shadow. They found a spot hidden from view and climbed over the black iron fence surrounding the manor. Dylan went over first, followed by Nash after he helped him scramble up the iron rods. Skirting the side of the mansion they reached the open courtyard in the back and found a place to hide in the shadows of the archways ringing the inside of the yard. ¡°What now?¡± Dylan asked. ¡°Now, one of you will stay here,¡± he said. ¡°To make sure we can still come back this way. If any of the guards show up you¡¯ll have to let us know somehow.¡± ¡°That¡¯s pretty vague,¡± Nash said. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for either of you to come,¡± he snapped through clenched teeth. He rubbed his forehead and took as deep as breath as he could. The pain made it hard but he needed to keep a level head. ¡°Alright,¡± Dylan said. ¡°What then?¡± ¡°Then I find the young lord and offer him my regards. One of you will need to keep watch by his door to let me know of anyone coming down the hallway.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go with you,¡± Dylan said. He nodded and together they slipped quietly into the mansion. It wasn¡¯t long before they heard boots thumping on the carpeted floor ahead. They found a closet door and hurried inside. He held his breath. A light passed underneath the doorway and disappeared a moment later. When they were sure the hallway was empty again they burst from the narrow confines of the closet. Dylan leaned against his knees, breathing hard. ¡°I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re really doing this,¡± Dylan whispered. ¡°This is insane.¡± ¡°Quiet. They might hear you and turn back.¡± He pushed himself to go on and Dylan followed closely. They found Barin¡¯s rooms shortly after. He pressed his ear to the door and listened. Nothing. He peered through the tiny crack beneath the door, along the side, and through the key hole in the door handle. Convinced that the young lord was not awake, he gave Dylan a nod. Dylan stood with his back against the wall by the door, sweeping his eyes up and down the hallway, and nodded back. Carefully, they slipped inside and closed the door behind them. As he thought, the room was dark. Barin¡¯s rooms were separated by a small sitting room where they stood currently. The candles snuffed and the door to Jack¡¯s bed chamber left ajar. He shuffled quietly, gritting his teeth against the pain, anticipation swelling in his chest. He gave Dylan a quick glance. Dylan stood by the door to the sitting room, eyes nervously glued on him. He gave Dylan a reassuring nod and closed the door to Barin¡¯s chamber behind him. He heard the snoring before he saw the bed where Barin slept, sheets half tossed aside, long limbs stretched out. He rounded the large four corner bed and stood over the young man. How easy it would be to end all his misery. He drew the knife and gingerly traced the point of the blade up Barin¡¯s naked torso. That¡¯s where Kalys would have started. He remembered those harsh words, spoken so casually as if talking about the weather. The heat of his anger rose to his face and he grimaced. He really should drive the knife point first deep into Barin¡¯s chest. Feel it sink into his soft, pink flesh and twist it with all the hate he felt for the young man. Instead he leaned forward and gently pressed the edge of the blade against Barin¡¯s throat and laid his free hand over the man¡¯s mouth, leveraging all his weight behind it. Barin awoke with a start. The man struggled. His eyes bulged but as soon as he felt the knife at his throat, the young man slumped back into the bed, whimpering against his palm. He leaned forward and whispered into Barin¡¯s ear. ¡°Shhh. Shhh. It¡¯s okay, it¡¯s okay. It¡¯s me, Saul. I¡¯m not here to kill you.¡± The young man tensed underneath his grip. No doubt he¡¯d been the last person Barin had ever expected to be holding a knife to his throat. ¡°I just want you to promise me something, okay?¡± he continued. ¡°If I let you go, you¡¯re not going to yell are you?¡± When Barin didn¡¯t respond he pressed the knife deeper and drew a thin red line. Barin¡¯s eyes grew wide with fright and he shook his head ever so slightly back and forth. ¡°Good,¡± he said. He stood and grabbed a chair and set it by the night stand against the bed. He lit a candle and eased himself slowly into its cushioned seat, regarding the young lord with a cold flat stare. Barin pushed himself up against the head board, gathering the sheets up to his chest. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Barin said. His usual bravado nowhere to be heard. ¡°Surprised? I know I sure am. You almost got me with those guards. Almost.¡± He watched for any signs of recognition and was rewarded by the way Barin¡¯s eyes widened even more. He knew Cera would have been there to watch if she had done it. She took pleasure in watching others suffer. Which only left one other person. ¡°I figured it had to be you. Your father wouldn¡¯t have sent them because he¡¯s expecting an answer from me and your brother isn¡¯t nearly so impulsive. That leaves just you.¡± The young man gaped. He took a moment to burn that look into his mind so he could savor it later. ¡°I could have killed you in your sleep, but I¡¯m not like you. I¡¯m not a despicable coward who has to rely on someone else to do his work for him. No, I¡¯m here to offer you a deal.¡± ¡°A deal?¡±Barin jeered. ¡°You think I would care about some worthless deal from you? You¡¯re going to hang for this. Even if you kill me there¡¯s no way you¡¯ll get away with it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not here to kill you. I just said that. Or are you not paying attention to me?¡± Barin winced at his tone. ¡°And even if I am hung, where¡¯s the joy in that for you? You wouldn¡¯t be around to see it. And people will talk. ¡°They¡¯ll say he died a dog¡¯s death in his bed, pissing himself like an invalid old man. No one will respect you. No one will praise you. Or mourn your death, or even miss you. But if you beat me in the tournament, that may be a different story.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I mean, I¡¯ll throw the fight. I¡¯ll lose to you, in front of the entire village. That¡¯s what you want isn¡¯t it? To beat me? To put me in my place? I won¡¯t make it obvious either so no one will question it. It¡¯ll be our little secret.¡± ¡°And in return?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll leave me alone. Whether I live out the rest of my life here or not, you¡¯ll not bother me again. Do you understand?¡± Barin nodded slowly. He stood, raising the knife above his head, and drove the end of it into the hard wood of the nightstand. Barin flinched but otherwise remained silent. ¡°We have a deal, then,¡± he said. And with that he left the room and closed the door behind him. Chapter 9 - Eliza She awoke with a strangled shout, shoulders heaving as she tried to orient herself in the darkness. A cold sweat clung to her shift and soaked through the sheets of her bed. She peeled them off, bracing against the sudden chill. Once her breathing evened out she crawled toward the edge of the canopied bed and peered through the velvet drapes that separated her from the gray light of dawn. The chairs and trunks packed full of books and clothing were right where she¡¯d left them, forming an intricate maze in the middle of the chamber between herself and the door leading out to the next room. There was no one else there. Just her and her bloody dreams. She stood and crossed the chamber, throwing open blinds concealing a tall arching window. She settled down upon the cushioned window sill and sighed as a warm golden glow bathed her. She held up her hands and traced her fingers over the smooth pale skin of her arms. It had all felt so real. The knives carving into her flesh as they¡¯d stretched her over a roaring fire. The iron chains biting into her wrists, binding her feet together. Even now she could hear the cackling laughter of the monsters standing over her. Their teeth glistening in the fire¡¯s flickering light as shadows danced over their grotesquely smiling faces. Despite the gentle warmth of the sun she hugged herself and shivered. You¡¯re losing your mind, she thought. The clock on the mantle reminded her suddenly of the hour, prompting her to get ready for the day. By the time she left her chamber her attendant Daria had laid out a tray full of bread and cheese and smoked ham on a table by a window. She poured herself a cup of wine, savoring the sweet aroma. Daria bowed as she took her seat. ¡°Would you like anything else, your Grace?¡± ¡°That will be all,¡± she said. ¡°Very well, your Grace,¡± Daria said, bowing once more. ¡°By the way, that young man is here to see you again.¡± ¡°Which one,¡± she frowned. ¡°I keep telling them the answer is no but they have trouble understanding plain speech.¡± ¡°The one in shiny armor who follows you around everywhere.¡± ¡°Who? Colenno?¡± Daria bobbed her head and smiled. She gave the woman a flat stare as she tore into a chunk of bread. ¡°Daria,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ve gone over this. He¡¯s the captain of my guard. He sort of has to follow me around.¡± ¡°Very well, your Grace. Would you like me to show him in?¡± She took a bite of ham and washed it down with a gulp of wine. ¡°Please, do,¡± she said. Shortly after, a tall young man with neatly trimmed blonde hair swept to the side of a handsome face strode into the room. He bowed deeply. ¡°Good morning, Majesty. I see you¡¯ve slept well.¡± She poured herself another cup of wine, preferring not to correct him. The silence stretched as she continued eating. He coughed into a fist and looked around the room. ¡°You should also know,¡± he said. ¡°Preparations are complete. The crowds have already gathered and are eagerly waiting to see their queen.¡± ¡°They¡¯ve seen their queen before.¡± ¡°Not wearing a crown they haven¡¯t.¡± ¡°Colenno,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t exactly enjoy crowds these days.¡± ¡°I can assure you, Majesty, every precaution has been taken. Dragon form guards will escort you the entire way. The Avenue of Kings has triple the amount of city guards as normal and the route has been thoroughly searched. You¡¯ll be as safe out there as you are in here.¡± ¡°My family thought they were safe. And look what happened to them. Murdered in their own home.¡± Colenno grimaced. ¡°Majesty, I¡¯ll be right beside you. Should anything happen I¡¯ll lay down my life if it means protecting yours.¡± She finished her meal and set her empty cup down with a heavy sigh. ¡°You don¡¯t have to go so far, Colenno. Come.¡± He followed her out of the sitting room with a curious look. ¡°You have an interesting way of organizing your chamber Majesty,¡± he said. She followed his gaze toward the maze of chairs and trunks in the middle of the floor. ¡°It¡¯s a precaution I read about once. A general who was paranoid over assassins creeping into his tent at night had the idea to leave obstacles in the way, believing anyone sneaking in the dark would trip over them, therefore alerting him to the danger.¡± He raised an eyebrow and cupped his chin. ¡°I see.¡± ¡°But never mind that,¡± she said. ¡°Help me into this.¡± She knelt by one of the trunks in her maze. As she flipped the lid Colenno whistled over her shoulder. ¡°Your Majesty,¡± he said. ¡°You don¡¯t plan to wear that, do you?¡± ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I? I have every right as you do. Now get to it. We don¡¯t have all morning.¡± He sighed. But of course, he obeyed. After he was finished she stood in front of a mirror and stared at her reflection. After all these years it still fit. How nostalgic. She lifted her arms, testing the weight and found it to be only a little heavier than she remembered. Her movements didn¡¯t feel too hindered, thankfully. ¡°This was the last gift my father ever gave me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, your Majesty.¡± ¡°Thank you, Captain. And now for the finishing touch.¡± She strode over to her bed side and reached underneath a pillow, pulling out a sheathed short sword and after finding a belt in one of her trunks she fastened it to her waist. But then she hesitated. Wasn¡¯t the night stand the last place she¡¯d left it? Her heart skipped a beat. Colenno walked over to her as she began to panic. He held the crown reverently in his hands and offered it to her on one knee. ¡°Great,¡± she said. ¡°Now let¡¯s get this over with.¡± He led the way through the main hall. An open carriage sat in the courtyard before the palace gates, surrounded by a troop of Dragon form guards in their summoned armor. She marveled at how the light bounced and twisted off the sinuous metal. It was far more beautiful than her own. The armor she wore was as plain and elegant as the crown nestled on her head. But given the choice between the two she loved hers more. Her father had it packed inside her belongings without telling her after her untimely dismissal all those years ago. She caressed the interlocking metal plates on her arms and closed her eyes, enjoying the sense of safety that enveloped her. She made a mental note to wear it more often. Before long, the carriage lurched as the driver whipped his team of horses into motion. Soon they were greeted by the cheers of thousands. Dagon form guards hissed and shouted at the crowd, bearing fang and sword to keep the pathway clear. Her armor reverberated from all the excitement in the air. It was almost too loud to hear herself think. But then she didn¡¯t have to think of anything. The whole purpose of a parade was to look pretty and wave. And wave she did. She smiled down from her high seat and waved for as long as her arm could tolerate it. But eventually she gave up and settled for relaxing in her seat. Colenno who sat beside her noticed her apparent absence of duty. He leaned over and shouted over the roaring crowd. ¡°Is something wrong, Majesty?¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing, Captain. I just need a break from all the waving.¡± ¡°Perhaps it was not such a good idea to wear the armor?¡± She shot him an annoyed look. ¡°I used to wear this all the time after I left the city. I just need to get used to the weight again.¡± A half smile crept over his handsome face as he nodded. She ignored the smug look in his eyes and chose to gaze out at the crowd. When was the last time she¡¯d seen such a gathering? Perhaps when her father had been crowned? She failed to see the point of it all. What was the point of parading around the city? What difference did it make? These people didn¡¯t know her. They didn¡¯t love her. So why should they care? They only cared about themselves and whether or not they were going to have any bread to eat the next morning. It wasn¡¯t as though they¡¯d chosen her to rule over them. It was passed on to her. It was her duty to take it up, whether she wanted to or not. She closed her eyes and drummed her fingers over the side of the carriage. She still couldn¡¯t believe her family was gone. Her mother and father. Her brothers. Even her cousins. No one had been spared. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.????Except for her. The one royal no one had given a second thought about in years. The one never meant to inherit a thing. So why had she survived? Why did she have to carry on the legacy after it had been stripped away from her all those years ago? And how was she supposed to fulfill her duty all by herself? She opened her eyes and stared at the passing buildings. She had gone over it in her head dozens of times since that night and each time she¡¯d come to the same conclusion. They were all dead because of her. ¡°Majesty,¡± Colenno said. ¡°Take a look at that.¡± She followed to where he pointed in the crowd at a statue of a Dragon. A dozen children climbed over it, waving small wooden swords. She couldn¡¯t help but smile. When she gave them a small wave they shook their swords even harder. ¡°Your family was well loved, Majesty. Your father did more for these people than the previous generations ever did. They still grieve over his death but seeing you gives them hope. It shows them the future he created isn¡¯t dead.¡± She balled a fist and glared. ¡°Why should I care? I don¡¯t remember them supporting me when I was banished. Their future has never been any concern of mine.¡± Colenno looked as though he¡¯d been slapped. ¡°Majesty, you don¡¯t mean that.¡± ¡°Who can say? Perhaps I have it in me to care but I can¡¯t find the energy to do so right now. It¡¯s enough that I¡¯ll wear this crown and perform my duties. Other than that, there is only one thing that I want.¡± ¡°Vengeance won¡¯t bring them back,¡± he said. ¡°Majesty, you have to rule these people. They¡¯re depending on you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m well aware of that,¡± she said. But if it helped her sleep at night she would chase her family¡¯s killers to the corners of the map until they were alive no more. She hid a yawn behind a plated hand and massaged her brow. If it wasn¡¯t for this bloody parade she could have been taking a nap right now. The streets were full to bursting and it seemed the entire city had packed itself within the upper district. People of all ages stood shoulder to shoulder and cheered as she passed. By the time the carriage returned to the Avenue of Kings, the Sun Palace looming like a tall hill in the distance, she let out a sigh of relief. The Dragon form guards had done their job well. Initially she¡¯d worried that an assassin could have hid in the crowds but it appeared she¡¯d worried over nothing. As the palace grew closer a lone figure stepped into the path of the Dragon form guards. At first she assumed they would stop him but somehow they walked right past him. She leaned forward to shout but stopped as she recognized the man¡¯s face. It was her younger brother Bradyn. His face gray and drawn, eyes wide and bulging. She remembered how young and handsome he looked not so long ago. He¡¯d smiled and hugged her so tight when she had returned to the city. And now he was dead. ¡°Your Majesty?¡± Colenno said. ¡°What is it?¡± She leaned back in her seat, tearing her eyes off her dead brother. ¡°Nothing, Captain. I¡¯m just a little excited at almost getting back to the palace.¡± He gave her a small grin. ¡°It won¡¯t be much longer now-¡± The carriage jolted. Colenno cursed and stood from his seat, shouting for the Dragon form guards as the driver lost control of his horses. The animals reared, kicking against their constraints. The harness connecting them to the carriage broke and the horses fled. The Dragon form guards surrounded the carriage faster than she¡¯d thought possible. Their great heads swiveled back and forth. The guards on horseback swung their mounts around and drew the crossbows hanging from their saddles. Colenno bent down and shook her out of her shock. ¡°Majesty, we need to leave.¡± Before she could respond a hand reached over the side of the carriage. She stared in horror as her brother¡¯s face rose over the edge. He hooked an arm over the side and pulled himself over. After that everything became chaos. She drew her short sword and screamed. She swung her sword wildly, hitting nothing. Colenno managed to hook his arms underneath her and dragged her out of the carriage. ¡°Your Majesty, let¡¯s go. There¡¯s nothing there.¡± ¡°No, I saw him. We ran him over. He¡¯s there. He¡¯s really there!¡± ¡°What are you talking about-¡± The crowd surged. Screams filled the air as people fled from a terror they couldn¡¯t see. Her older brother Gariel strode through the chaos. His long blonde hair flowed in the wind. Blood speckled his pale cheeks and a long sword held at his side screeched as he dragged it against the cobble stones. She shuddered as blood drained from her face. This wasn¡¯t happening. They were just delusions born from grief. But as her brother passed a Dragon form guard and slashed his sword through a sinuous leg she began to have her doubts. The Dragon hissed and fell to the ground. Colenno gaped in shock but quickly snapped out of it. A mounted guard dismounted off his horse as Colenno reached for the reins. He shook her once more and yelled into her ear. ¡°Get on.¡± She hoped into the saddle with his help and a moment later he¡¯d swung himself behind her, kicking the horse into motion. Everything became a blur after that. The buildings, the people, the cobbles beneath the horses feet, it all blended together. Her chest clenched as she tried to understand what just happened. The palace gates swung open to admit them. The roar of the crowd followed them along with the other mounted guards and the remainder of the Dragon form guards. Colenno passed the reigns off to a handler and dismounted. He helped her down and looked at her. A deep frown furrowed his brow. ¡°Are you alright Majesty?¡± He said. ¡°Should I fetch a doctor?¡± ¡°No, just take me to my chambers.¡± He nodded solemnly. She barely noticed the way he took to lead her back. When they arrived he posted half a dozen guards by the door and insisted she take a few inside with her. She refused and closed the door in his face, her hands shaking as she raced through her apartments. She tripped over the maze of chairs and trunks in her chamber and cursed. She kicked them aside and pushed herself to her knees. Her armor made it difficult but she managed to crawl to the night stand beside her bed. She opened the bottom drawer and took out a small cloth bag, dumping its contents upon the carpeted floor. She grabbed one of the fragments and stuffed it into her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut against the bitterness as she desperately chewed the numroot. The trembling in her hands slowly subsided and a numb calmness washed over her. She leaned her back against the bed and breathed out slowly. When she opened her eyes her older brother Gariel was sitting cross-legged on the carpet before her. He looked up from the naked blade laid across his lap. ¡°Do you remember the first time you held a sword?¡± he said. ¡°You were just a little girl. So sweet and innocent. If only I had known I would have stopped you back then.¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t happening,¡± she whispered. ¡°You aren¡¯t really here.¡± He tilted his head to the side and stared at her. ¡°Am I?¡± ¡°This is all in my head,¡± she said, closing her eyes once more. ¡°You died. You all died.¡± ¡°Does this feel like an illusion?¡± Cold metal brushed her chin. A sharp point pressed into her neck. The sword felt so real. But then so did her dreams. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°I want what all men want. Death.¡± She numbly shook her head. The sword pressed further into her neck. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°It wasn¡¯t me.¡± She tasted the lie as the words passed her lips. Bitter and wrong. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault!¡± She opened her eyes. She was alone. A thin trail of blood trickled down her neck. She wiped it with her hand and felt a wet stickiness between her fingers. ¡°It wasn¡¯t my fault.¡± She fumbled another piece of numroot into her mouth. When the numbness washed over her a second time the world faded away as she surrendered to a dreamless sleep. Chapter 10 - Saul He closed his eyes and found a great deal of pleasure in the near lack of pain as it melted away like ice beneath a rising sun. The numroot took a while to get used to. But once he fought down the urge to spit it out and down a glass of ale the herb had already taken effect. The blood essence pill had healed his broken bones, even strengthening them to some degree. But a tender soreness lingered around his ribs. Thankfully the numroot could handle that. Just as the name implied it numbed the body¡¯s sensitivity to pain. Which was exactly what he wanted. Above all else, he needed to be at his best. He sighed and smiled faintly to himself. With his legs crossed comfortably at the ankles he relaxed on the hard ground and leaned his back against a tree. Its leaves swayed in the faint, cool breeze, casting shadows that danced over the back of his eyelids. Today was a good day for the festival. ¡°What happened last night?¡± He shielded his eyes and blinked. Taren leaned over him, hands on his hips. Worry creasing his brow. ¡°Ah, Taren,¡± he said. ¡°Good morning.¡± ¡°It¡¯s almost noon. And you¡¯re dodging my question.¡± ¡°I am not. It¡¯s only polite to greet family-¡± ¡°Which you wouldn¡¯t have to do if you¡¯d come home last night.¡± ¡°About that,¡± he said. He folded his hands in his lap and looked out over the commons. The taste of freshly baked pastries permeated the air. A man playing a violin alongside a young woman singing to a dancing group mingled with the laughter and cries of different crowds gathered around the various attractions. He debated whether he should tell his brother everything. But then he rolled his eyes and looked down at his hands. ¡°I spent the night with Dylan and Nash.¡± Taren sat down beside him and frowned. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡± He described the beating handed to him by Albryte¡¯s guards. Taren balled his fists and grimaced. His eyes grew wide when he mentioned Grendyl and the Lycan. His mouth dropped when he heard about his visit to the Albryte manor. ¡°Of all the stupid things you could have done you had to break into the lord¡¯s home and put a knife to his son¡¯s throat?¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t just let it go, Taren.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a fool if you think he¡¯ll leave you alone now,¡± Taren muttered, shaking his head. ¡°What happened after that? Why didn¡¯t you come home?¡± ¡°We went to the Tipsy Gelding. They cleaned me up and shoved this disgusting thing in my mouth. They paid for me to stay the night if I promised not to get into any more trouble.¡± He shrugged. ¡°So I did.¡± ¡°You just didn¡¯t want mother to scold you.¡± ¡°She scolds me all the time. I just didn¡¯t feel like going back after what happened.¡± Taren grunted. ¡°You didn¡¯t miss much. Father hit it off with Alazar but mom didn¡¯t like him. They wondered where you were. Alazar wants to see you again.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure he does,¡± he said, remembering Grendyl¡¯s words. Don¡¯t trust him. ¡°Well,¡± Taren said slowly. ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to go home to your bed? You really should be resting.¡± ¡°Stop worrying so much.¡± He stumbled to his feet, assuring his brother that he was fine by flashing him his best smile. ¡°Come on,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s enjoy the festival.¡± Revelers packed every corner of the commons. Those from the surrounding countryside and mountains mingled with the Faldeners. They snacked on meat pies as a troupe of traveling performers reenacted Valoryn¡¯s triumph over the North lords. If only the man hadn¡¯t died so long ago he would have paid any price to meet him. A young girl with braids and freckles dotting her cheeks asked Taren to dance but his brother turned her down much to her disappointment. He shook his head and watched her go, wishing she had asked him instead. It wasn¡¯t long before a platform in the middle of the commons, a large circular arena made entirely out of rockwood, gathered a large crowd. Taren grabbed him by the shoulder and squeezed their way through. His brother¡¯s favorite part of the festival was about to begin. Evander Silvertree, Victor¡¯s grandson, and Shalyn Forrelli, a retired legionnaire took opposite sides of the stage. They waved at the crowd and offered each other a bow. Shalyn moved first. Light erupted from where she stood, enveloping her in a bright flash of essence. A second later the light blinked out, revealing Shalyn¡¯s Dragon form. Her golden scales gleamed under the afternoon sun, blue eyes burning like a calm steady flame. The form of Shalyn¡¯s soul held a distinguished look to it, complemented by the way she stood with her back straight, talons clasped behind her waist. Her tail swished slowly as she regarded Evander across the stage. Evander was only a moment slower in manifesting the form of his soul. He roared and beat his chest, riling up the crowd as they roared along with him. His Dragon form erupted from the light of the essence swirling around him. Red scales glowing like coals, his blue eyes raged like a roaring fire. He flung his arms out to either side. Twin blades fell into his hands, appearing from a burst of blue flame. The blades were short and black and wide like meat cleavers. He lunged across the stage in a single leap and swung both blades at Shalyn¡¯s head. Other than a slight shifting of her feet, Shalyn remained still up until the last moment. She dropped faster than a blur, her head dipping below Evander¡¯s blades, and spun. Her tail swept the stage but the young man anticipated it. Evander jumped. He grinned, amused by what he saw coming next. Even if it only lasted a bare second, Evander had made himself an easy target in mid air. Shalyn rose from her tail sweep and flung out a taloned palm. Evander crossed his blades to deflect the impact, but the force of Shalyn¡¯s strike sent him flying back. He tumbled across the stage and only stopped when he drove a blade into the stage itself. Taren clapped and cheered along with the crowd. He rolled his eyes but couldn¡¯t help himself from smiling. The joy on his brother¡¯s face made it worth standing through a couple of Dragons fight. However, he did take a mental note of how they fought. Shalyn held out her right hand. A long, thin red blade, glistening as though it had been dipped in water, dropped out of a burst of blue fire. She caught the hilt and leveled the blade as writhing flames coiled up her arm. Red segmented armor appeared that splintered light in a dazzling display like a cut gem sparkling in the sun. Shalyn tested Evander with a few shallow strokes and suddenly their dance became a heated exchange of blows. His thoughts drifted back to the night before. To the Lycan in the alley and the black sword it held. Could he hold his own with Shalyn or Evander if he broke into the second World? Could Grendyl really teach him how to manifest his soul? He yelled over the crowd into Taren¡¯s ear. ¡°I¡¯m going to rest before the tournament.¡± Taren reluctantly tore his eyes off the match and gave him a quick look up and down. ¡°Are you sure you have enough time? The sword skill tournament is next after this.¡± ¡°I have plenty of time. I¡¯m just going to close my eyes for a minute.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll come with you then. Can¡¯t have you falling asleep and missing the whole thing or I¡¯ll never hear the end of it.¡± He clasped Taren¡¯s shoulders and made him face the Dragons. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to worry about,¡± he said. ¡°Just enjoy yourself and wait for me. I won¡¯t be long.¡± Taren scratched his beard, unconvinced. He picked his way out of the crowd before his brother followed him and left the commons behind. He didn¡¯t have long, as Taren pointed out, but he didn¡¯t need to go far. Just someplace where he could silence his thoughts and gather his focus before the tournament began. He found a quiet little corner where two streets converged. A bench sat beside the door of a small shop with a second story floor that hung over the street like a ledge. He eased himself gently into it and popped another piece of numroot into his mouth. A bell chimed as the door beside the bench swung open. ¡°Now that¡¯s a pretty face.¡± He looked up at the young woman smiling down at him. ¡°Sylvia?¡± he said, mildly surprised. In one arm she held a covered basket and stood on the edge of the street. The sun played on her hair, lighting it like a fire. Brushed to one side it covered her shoulder in a mane of thick wavy strands. Her cheeks were lightly flushed and her green eyes caught the sun. He lingered on her smile. Then blinked and looked away. ¡°Don¡¯t you have servants to do all your shopping?¡± he said. ¡°As it so happens, I do. But it¡¯s nice to get out once in a while, don¡¯t you think?¡± She tilted her head and studied him. ¡°Are you not feeling well?¡± ¡°How could you tell?¡± ¡°If the look on your face didn¡¯t give you away the smell definitely would,¡± she said. ¡°Numroot has its own distinct aroma. You should use it sparingly, by the way. It¡¯s potent but highly addictive.¡± Nash hadn¡¯t told him that. The little shit. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the other day,¡± he blurted out suddenly. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have been rude to you. It¡¯s just, how do I say it?¡± He folded his arms and frowned. ¡°You¡¯re an Albryte. Every Albryte I¡¯ve ever known I¡¯ve despised. Except for you. You¡¯ve always been a kind person. Even to someone like me.¡± She set her basket down and took a seat on the bench, tucking a leg underneath her, eyeing him intently. ¡°You don¡¯t hurt people like the others in your family,¡± he hesitated. ¡°But neither do you do anything to stop it. That¡¯s always bothered me, you know? How could someone like you tolerate what they do? And keep on smiling? ¡°I thought that maybe meant you were strong, because you were above it all. But really it¡¯s because you can¡¯t do anything about it. And I don¡¯t blame you. Barin and Jon are your brothers. You¡¯re supposed to love your family. ¡°But how can someone like you love people like them? It probably tears you apart. Especially when you know that someone will have enough and fight back. That someone will come for their heads. What do you do then? ¡°Do you defend the monsters you call family? Or do you side with the person who was wronged. When I think about all that, I feel really bad for you.¡± The words spilled out without interruption. And the longer she stayed quiet the less he held back. He didn¡¯t know why he felt the need to say such things. Or what to expect. Tears maybe? Some kind of excuse before she cursed him and left? She wasn¡¯t the type to throw a fit, but she had to do something, right? ¡°You¡¯ve been holding that in for a long time, haven¡¯t you?¡± She said. He looked up sharply. His breath caught. Sadness ringed the edges of her eyes, but at the heart of them lay nothing but a warm kindness that reached out and held him. He bit his lip, disgusted suddenly by his need for revenge. Would she still be able to look at him with the same warmth she did now if he¡¯d gotten what he wanted? ¡°I won¡¯t refute what you said. And neither will I defend the actions of my family,¡± she said. ¡°If I could have shielded you from everything you experienced at their hands I would have. I want to you believe that.¡± He studied her eyes, at how they stared not through him, but at him. That wasn¡¯t the reaction he¡¯d expected. Then something else occurred to him. Something he¡¯d only ever suspected but never knew for certain. ¡°I¡¯m not the only one with a long list of grievances, am I?¡± She let the question linger and shifted away from him to face the street. ¡°Are you going to fight in the sword skill tournament?¡± She asked. ¡°I am.¡± ¡°Why go through with it? Do you really want to fight so badly? Even as you are now?¡± He tensed and looked down at the stones between his feet. ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice,¡± he said. ¡°I fail to see how that¡¯s possible. Why do you have to fight? Could you explain it to me?¡± He closed his eyes, letting the question go unanswered. ¡°Saul? I can¡¯t help if you won¡¯t talk to me.¡± She leaned forward and put a hand on his arm. Even now, after all the years he¡¯d known her, he still couldn¡¯t believe she was related to the twins. He looked at her then and said quietly, ¡°I¡¯m going to kill them, Sylvia. Jon and Barin. I don¡¯t know when. I don¡¯t know how. But one day, my face will be the last thing they ever see before their lizard fucking souls are sent straight to hell.¡± Again, she didn¡¯t react the way he assumed she would. ¡°I tried talking to them many times,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°Father wouldn¡¯t lift a finger. ¡®A peasant needs no kindness,¡¯ he would say. Just, when the time comes make your peace and end it.¡± He peeked at her from the corner of his eye and grunted softly. ¡°You and my brother seem awfully close.¡± ¡°What?¡± She said, startled. The change in topic caught her off guard. Her cheeks flushed even further, a deep red that almost matched her hair. ¡°It isn¡¯t like that. We¡¯re just friends.¡± ¡°He told me the same thing,¡± he said. He grinned and stared at her until his silence seemed to irritate her, which only made him laugh. After such an awkward conversation he wanted something to lighten the mood between them. ¡°Peace,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s none of my business. But you¡¯re the lord¡¯s daughter. You¡¯re noble and he¡¯s not. I think you can understand my worry.¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be concerned about,¡± she assured him. ¡°But if there is anything to worry about, it should be whether you¡¯ll make it to the stage on time.¡± He frowned and scratched his chin. He thought he had longer than that but in the end a few more minutes of rest wouldn¡¯t do him any more good than none at all. He slowly pushed himself to his feet and left the shade of the store front. ¡°Want to come along?¡± ¡°I think I¡¯ll pass,¡± she said, looking away. ¡°Taren will be there. He¡¯s not taking part so you can watch with him.¡± She gathered her basket and came to stand beside him under the sun. Light filled her eyes once more, captivating him again with their brilliance. ¡°I think I have some time to spare after all,¡± she said. Shalyn wore a crown of slivernots by the time they arrived. He knew the old woman would win. Her cultivation was at the third World, capable of manifesting armor, while Evander was far behind in the second. He stood beside her, arms crossed and pouting as Shalyn smiled and waved at the crowd. He pointed out his brother and Sylvia went to stand beside him. Taren jumped. A wide smile broke across his brother¡¯s face and a slight bit of jealousy tugged at his chest. The crowd parted to allow Shalyn and Evander to leave the stage. The participants of the sword skill tournament gathered at the steps of the platform and waited for their turn to go up. Barin stood impatiently at the front of the group, arms crossed and frowning at the crowd. Their eyes met and the young man stopped fidgeting. A moment passed between them. Barin nodded slightly. He nodded back and joined the gathered contestants. He shouldn¡¯t have felt surprised to see Alazar climb onto the stage but when he did he groaned and hoped the man wouldn¡¯t make a spectacle of himself. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.????Alazar wore his full military uniform, regarding the crowd with a wide smile and open arms. ¡°For those who haven¡¯t heard my name is Alazar Maxillion. And today I¡¯ve been allowed by lord Albryte the special honor of acting judge for this year¡¯s sword skill tournament. "I¡¯m sure you¡¯re all just as excited as I am to watch our young folk settle their scores, so without further delay, let¡¯s begin!¡± He caught Alazar¡¯s attention and the man gave him a boyish grin and winked. How could such a carefree man ever get so far in the legions? He shook his head and waited for his name to be called. His first match was easy. A boy several years younger than him who he recognized as Hallen offered no challenge at all. Before going up he activated his essence body and chose a sword from among the rack of weapons positioned by the base of the stairs. The swords were made of fine steel but the edges had been purposely dulled so they couldn¡¯t cut. At most a hit from one would break bones and leave behind a ruin of black and purple bruises. He faced the young man and waited for him to make the first move. ¡°You look terrible,¡± Hallen said. ¡°I¡¯d feel bad winning just because you weren¡¯t at your best.¡± ¡°If that¡¯s an offer to let me surrender, I¡¯ll have to disappoint you,¡± he replied. Hallen laughed and approached him casually. He knew Hallen from when they were boys. And so he knew Hallen had grown up in a baker¡¯s household and had been a baker¡¯s boy his entire life. If he¡¯d been a hunter he¡¯d have known to approach his prey as if it could kill him at any moment. And wounded prey was the most dangerous kind of all. Hallen moved, not even bothering to hide his intent. He swung and knocked the sword from Hallen¡¯s grasp and levered the blunt tip of his blade underneath the boy¡¯s quivering chin. ¡°I guess one of us really wasn¡¯t at their best, huh?¡± he said, grinning. His next match lasted longer. Sweat beaded on his brow but he was careful not to expend himself. He kept his blade close to his chest, his swings short and shallow. He would have liked a little more elegance in his technique. Clean and precise. But today was different. The boy, Fenek, pulled back and studied him with a frown. ¡°Why struggle so hard? I heard you just broke into the first World and I can tell you¡¯re hurt. You can¡¯t win.¡± ¡°Even at my worst, I¡¯m still better than you, Fenek,¡± he said, wiping his brow. ¡°I¡¯m at the fifth realm of the first World,¡± Fenek smirked. ¡°You¡¯re so much smaller than me I can¡¯t even see your cultivation.¡± He smiled. If only Fenek knew. ¡°I thank you for the breather, boy. Now come here so I can show you how much I care about your pathetic little realm.¡± His third match left him breathing hard. His movements were slow and rigid. The numroot began to wear off again and his essence body could no longer silence all the pain and soreness. It kept him from finishing the match as quickly as he¡¯d have wanted but he couldn¡¯t afford to anger his injuries by putting the full force of his skill behind the blade. The third opponent, a young man named Robyn, tested him carefully, never giving away a single opening. Like him, Robyn was a hunter who knew the proper way to handle prey. He couldn¡¯t fool Robyn or provoke him into making a mistake like the previous two. He needed to take a risk. If Robyn wouldn¡¯t give him an opening he¡¯d simply have to make one. He parried a flurry of strikes and on the last one he allowed his sword to fly from his hand. The last stroke from Robyn left the young man in a position where he could have parried but when the man saw what he¡¯d done he hesitated. He locked eyes with Robyn and took a small step toward the blade laying half a dozen feet away. He feinted and Robyn fell for it. He lashed out and grabbed Robyn¡¯s sword arm, twisting him around. They tumbled to the stage floor. Pain stabbed his tender ribs and tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. He clenched his jaw, holding back a cry. He fell atop Robyn who struggled to get out from under him. When he drew the long hunting knife strapped behind his waist and slapped Robyn a few times lightly on the cheek with the flat of the blade, Alazar declared him the winner. Just one more to go, he thought miserably. As he¡¯d expected the final match was between him and Barin. In a stroke of luck the twins had paired off together and instead of fighting it out Jon forfeited the match without swinging his blade a single time. When Alazar called his name he took his place on one end of the stage while Barin took the other. Alazar motioned for them both to meet in the center. ¡°You¡¯re looking a little pale there, lad,¡± Alazar said. ¡°No shame in backing out if you have to.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he breathed. ¡°I¡¯m exactly where I want to be. Besides, I wouldn¡¯t dare insult our young lord here by denying him what he wants.¡± Barin stared at him inscrutably. ¡°Let him fight, Alazar. The dog¡¯s made up his mind already.¡± ¡°Very well,¡± Alazar said. The captain put his hand on his shoulder and turned him around, his voice lowered. ¡°You never got back to Raemis about his offer.¡± He grimaced at the captain. Grendyl had been right after all. ¡°It isn¡¯t like that,¡± Alazar said, holding up his hand. ¡°I had no idea what the old man was up to until this morning. I just want you to know that you don¡¯t have to worry about it. I straightened it all out myself.¡± Alazar slapped him lightly on the shoulder, grinning as he gave him another wink and backed away from the center of the stage. ¡°Let the final match of the tournament begin!¡± He frowned and tightened his grip on the pommel of his sword. Now wasn¡¯t the time for unnecessary thoughts. He took several steps back and drew his sword. Barin mirrored him and together they circled the stage sizing up one another. Barin lunged. Their swords clashed and Barin swung again. He stepped around the half hearted swing and gave one of his own. Barin¡¯s pale face was like a mask. Cold and unreadable. The young lord rushed in, aiming a slash for his eyes. He parried in time and stumbled backward as Barin pressed him again. A small grin crept up the side of Barin¡¯s face. He lowered his guard and Barin followed suit. He parried the blow and the one after that, all while making it look as if he were losing. It galled him to make the other man look better in front of the whole village. What he was attempting took way more skill than the young lord would ever have. He narrowly missed a parry that would have brushed harmlessly against his chest. A sharp sting traced a line through his shirt. He gasped and almost dropped his sword. Barin smiled wickedly. The heat simmering beneath his cold eyes burst forth. The young lord rained a series of quick cuts and thrusts. Each strike of Barin¡¯s blade sent a shock down his arm that would have ripped the sword from his hands if not for the essence pumping through his blood. Everyone else had been offered swords with blunt edges so how had he gotten one that wasn¡¯t dull? He gritted his teeth and glanced over at Alazar. The man stood with his arms crossed. His carefree manner hidden behind by a solemn gaze. Alazar had clearly noticed but wasn¡¯t interfering. He scowled and poured all his focus into his stance and pushed his essence body to its limit, exerting every drop of essence that he could force through his veins. Barin whipped his blade around. He parried, tossing it aside with a grunt. And took a step forward, hooking a boot behind one of Barin¡¯s feet. Instead of falling on his back, the man stumbled a few steps, slashing wildly to keep his distance. Barin grimaced and lunged with his sword held high and strait, aiming for his neck. He took that moment to drive the end of his sword into Barin¡¯s chest, thinking he could step around Barin¡¯s thrust, but the young man parried at the last moment. His attack went wide, brushing over Barin¡¯s shoulder instead. With horror he realized he¡¯d left his chest exposed. But the young lord didn¡¯t take the opportunity to finish him. Barin lifted his leg and slammed his boot into his aching ribs. A cry died in the back of his throat as he stumbled gasping for air. The crowd roared. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the blow to come. But a second passed. And then another. And another. Barin paced back and forth, a cruel smile curling his lips. His eyes held the look of a predator eying its meal. Alazar made no move to call the match. He rose unsteadily, but fell back again to one knee, clutching his sides. ¡°I must thank you, dog,¡± Barin said. ¡°This present you¡¯ve given me has been most delightful. And I plan to cherish this for a long time.¡± As the young lord advanced his eyes fell upon the crowd behind him. A mixture of awe and excitement poured out from every face he saw. All except for one. A man too sick to leave his house had made it out on his own. His father leaned heavily on a cane, face wrought with worry. Their eyes met and he froze. Barin took another step, swinging his sharp edged blade playfully. ¡°Get up, dog. I¡¯m not finished with you yet.¡± He tore his eyes away and glared at the young lord gloating over him. His body trembled with a rage he had never felt before. He squeezed the hilt of his blade and pushed himself back onto his feet, using the sword as leverage. His body screamed with pain but somehow it didn¡¯t hold him back this time. The crowd cheered. Barin tilted his head, confused, before he scowled. ¡°Dog, don¡¯t even try-¡± Barin gasped like he¡¯d been kicked in the gut and doubled over. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Essence poured into him, silencing the pain, filling his muscles until they surely couldn¡¯t handle any more. And then his limit broke, his power growing still. Barin looked up at him, eyes wide and full of terror. ¡°What have you done?¡± Barin shrieked. He glanced at the ring on his finger and balled his hand into a fist. The ring bit into his flesh and burned hotter than a flame. Oddly enough the pain disappeared the harder he focused on it. The ring looked even darker than usual, as if coated by a thick black fog. And underneath the veil faint markings pulsed in a red light until the essence flooding into him suddenly stopped and the markings faded back into the depths of the ring. He stretched his arms and tested his body, twisting his torso from side to side. Everything had been healed. ¡°I should ask you the same question,¡± he said. ¡°Bringing a real sword to a friendly competition? It¡¯s almost as if you¡¯re trying to kill me. And here I thought we had a deal.¡± Barin¡¯s face twisted. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you weren¡¯t planning to do the same thing. Do you think I forgot what you said that day you fought my cousin Cera? I¡¯m only defending myself!¡± He laughed and leveled his blade between Barin¡¯s eyes. ¡°Only a piece of trash could make such a ridiculous claim.¡± The young lord scrambled to his feat. ¡°Alazar, I command you. Kill him. Kill him right now!¡± Alazar shook his head. Barin cursed and leapt into the crowd. With every bit of strength in his legs he launched off the stage, catching Barin with a shallow strike to the back. Barin tripped and fell to the ground. The crowd circled them, jostling for a better view. ¡°What are you all looking at?¡± The young lord spat. ¡°Don¡¯t you know who my father is you filthy peasants?¡± Barin scrambled to his feet, looking like a cornered rat searching for a way out. ¡°Jon?¡± Barin cried. ¡°Jon? Where the fuck did you go!¡± This was what he truly wanted. Not a single trace of pride remained in the young lord cowering before him. And the whole crowd saw it. Barin struck with blinding speed as he stood there, reveling in the young lord¡¯s shame. He parried and stepped into the wild swing. Barin cursed and danced back as his elbow missed the young man¡¯s face by an inch. He swung his blunted sword for Barin¡¯s head, spun and jabbed for the stomach, danced to the side and slashed at a knee. Barin parried every blow, growing slower by the second. His movements duller each time their swords clanged together. Barin¡¯s impenetrable defense was crumbling. He smiled. His newfound strength urging him on. He danced on the balls of his feet as he adjusted to the sudden rise in his cultivation. Barin¡¯s eyes bulged, his teeth bared underneath the strain. He couldn¡¯t help but laugh at how weak the young lord had become. How pathetic. With all his strength, he squeezed the hilt of his sword and hammered the blade down onto Barin¡¯s wrists like an avalanche. He roared. Through the blade he felt the soft crunch of bones as Barin screamed. The man¡¯s sword fell from his grasp and rattled across the cobble stones. Barin fell to his knees and looked up at him, useless hands dangling. He stared down at the young man who¡¯d tormented him for years and looked into his frightened eyes. Terror froze over them like a thin layer of ice. And underneath it lay an endless depth of hatred. Neither one of them could know peace while the other still lived. Raising his sword smoothly above his head he took a deep breath and tightened his grip. Although it had no edge it was still a weapon. Hit him over the head hard enough¡­ Suddenly he realized the crowd had grown silent. Something sharp pricked at his neck. He glanced down and hesitated. The tip of a sword extended from beneath his chin. Alazar gave him an inscrutable look. ¡°Enough. Step back and lower your sword. It¡¯s done.¡± He stared back at Alazar in disbelief. Of course someone steps in to save the noble but no one cares when it¡¯s a peasant¡¯s life at stake. A tense moment passed where he was sure he¡¯d strike the young lord dead, even it meant a sword slicing open his neck. And then it passed. The tension dropped from his shoulders as he took a step back, tossing the blunted sword at Alazar¡¯s feet with contempt. Alazar eyed him before sheathing his blade and turning to face the crowd with a satisfied nod. ¡°And so concludes this year¡¯s tournament. Congratulations to our young champion, Saul, on his tremendous victory. Let¡¯s hear a round of applause!¡± He stared blankly at the crowd. Some stared back at him with fear in their eyes. Others with open wonder. A hushed silence gripped the air, but after someone raised a cheer, the silence burst. Barin shoved his way through the crowd, hurling curses left and right. His twin caught up to him and led him away, face tight with worry. The essence in his body receded. His blood cooling without a fight to keep it warm. Alazar clapped him on the shoulder. He glared at the man as Alazar leaned in close, his voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd as he whispered into his ear. ¡°We need to talk,¡± Alazar said. ¡°Later. About your father. He isn¡¯t sick.¡± As it happened he caught sight of his father in the crowd. Allanir smiled proudly and shuffled toward them with obvious difficulty. ¡°What do you call that then,¡± he said flatly. ¡°Poison, lad. That¡¯s what I call it. Poison and treachery and neither one can be cured with a little medicine.¡± Chapter 11 - Saul Torches lit the great feast. Light and shadow danced to the songs playing throughout the night as the ale flowed in abundance. He stared into his drink, oblivious of it all. It didn¡¯t make any sense. Alazar had to be wrong. He scowled and took a swift gulp of ale and gagged. Damn numroot. The aftertaste wouldn¡¯t wash away no matter how much he drank. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and peered around the table. Dylan and Nash kept looking over their shoulders as if lord Albryte¡¯s guards would appear any moment and drag them away. Taren picked at his plate and Sylvia sat beside him nursing her drink. The one he hadn¡¯t expected to find sitting among them was of course the one man who kept showing up where he was least expected. Alazar feasted on his roast mutton with a delighted look in his eyes. He couldn¡¯t keep his peace any longer and slammed his mug upon the table. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you stop him?¡± he snapped. Alazar paused and glanced up from his plate. ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°I said. Why did you not stop him? Don¡¯t pretend as though you didn¡¯t notice. Barin used a real sword. I could have died.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Alazar said. ¡°It was for your own good, lad. In the real world, there are no rules. You have to learn to overcome anything that wants to keep you from seeing the next sunrise. If you don¡¯t, you¡¯ll never amount to anything. Mark my words.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the dumbest reason I¡¯ve ever heard,¡± he gaped. ¡°How am I supposed to amount to anything if I¡¯m killed before then?¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± Alazar shrugged. ¡°But am I wrong? You overcame your weakness and surpassed your limit. Didn¡¯t you?¡± He hesitated. Of course Alazar had noticed. He took another drink and cleared his throat. ¡°I still say that¡¯s a poor excuse.¡± ¡°You doubt my judgment? Look at where you are now. A first realm second World Essence Channeler. You¡¯ve done the impossible, lad. Do you have any idea what that means? The old men of the Sun Temple will need to rewrite the holy scripture because of you.¡± Alazar choked on his laugh. ¡°Just imagine the look on their faces! Have you ever tried pointing out to your mother whenever she¡¯s been wrong before? Good luck getting out of this one alive. But with such a peerless talent, perhaps you have nothing to worry about at all.¡± He frowned into his mug. Him, talented? If such a thing were true he would have never needed the ring in the first place. ¡°I was told,¡± he said, ¡°not to trust you Alazar.¡± The captain mocked him by gripping his heart. ¡°Ouch,¡± Alazar grinned. ¡°You wound me. Who would dare say such a thing?¡± ¡°Someone I met recently. Someone who knows you.¡± Alazar dropped his playful mockery. ¡°Did this ¡®someone¡¯ happen to give you their name?¡± ¡°He did.¡± ¡°And?¡± He studied Alazar carefully. ¡°Grendyl,¡± he said. A flicker of recognition. Alazar¡¯s eyes widened slightly. The captain drummed his fingers on the tabletop and cocked his head to one side. ¡°Is that so,¡± Alazar said. ¡°I¡¯d sure like to meet this fellow who¡¯s trying to ruin my flawless reputation. You wouldn¡¯t happen to know where I might find him, would you lad?¡± ¡°He didn¡¯t say.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Alazar sighed. ¡°Well then. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m short on time anyway. I have to check on the lads. Hopefully none of them have had too much. They tend to get a bit rowdy at these sorts of things.¡± The captain chuckled as he stood and carried his drink. ¡°Actually, I just remembered something,¡± Alazar pointed out suddenly. ¡°It¡¯s likely nothing to worry about but I haven¡¯t had the displeasure of seeing Kalys Murk at all today. Is he skipping out on his usual duty of grunting all over the place? Or do you suppose¡­¡± Dylan choked on his drink. ¡°Everyone knows he¡¯s a drunk,¡± Taren jumped in. ¡°Probably passed out somewhere and hasn¡¯t gotten up yet.¡± Alazar aimed an amused grin at his brother and left without another word. ¡°He knows!¡± Nash croaked. ¡°The sooner you let go of that idea, the better,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡± ¡°Are we really talking about Kalys right now?¡± Sylvia asked, arching a brow. She laid a finger on his brother¡¯s lips when he moved to answer. Taren blushed a deep red. ¡°I¡¯ll refrain from asking the obvious question. But if Saul says there¡¯s nothing to worry about, then why worry so much?¡± She hooked an arm around Taren¡¯s elbow and pulled him away to join the dancing crowd of revelers. ¡°I¡¯m so worried,¡± Dylan said, ¡°I can¡¯t even feel jealous of him.¡± ¡°You and me both,¡± Nash mumbled, staring sullenly into his drink. ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to stop looking over my shoulder all day. And after what happened, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised to find a dozen guards looking for us.¡± ¡°Haven¡¯t I told you already,¡± he said. ¡°Barin doesn¡¯t know you two were there last night. He¡¯s focused on me. Only me.¡± ¡°Then shouldn¡¯t you be, I don¡¯t know. Hiding?¡± Dylan asked. ¡°Why would I hide? I¡¯ve done nothing wrong.¡± Dylan fidgeted with the scar on his jaw. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what you did was right or wrong. That¡¯s for him to decide. And you can bet he¡¯s coming for your head. If a look could kill I swear you would have died right there on the stage.¡± He shuddered at the memory. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen him look that angry. And I¡¯ve seen him look angry plenty of times.¡± Nash looked up from his drink. ¡°You could hide out at that cabin you wintered at. You and your family are the only ones who know where it is.¡± Dylan nodded. ¡°That sounds like a good plan. You should leave tonight, while everyone¡¯s distracted by the festival. Sure, they¡¯ll all be either drunk or hung over by tomorrow but the longer you wait the harder it¡¯ll be to get away.¡± He tightened his grip around his mug at the thought of running. It wasn¡¯t the right thing to do, but that didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t the smart thing to do either. He couldn¡¯t guarantee that his family wouldn¡¯t suffer the next time Barin came for him. And then there was lord Albryte himself. The lord had to honor his bet unless he didn¡¯t care if the whole village knew he went back on it. That didn¡¯t necessarily mean he was safe either. He glanced over his shoulder and watched his brother dance with Sylvia under the light of the moon and flickering torches. ¡°Saul?¡± Dylan said. He downed the rest of his drink and slammed the mug on the table with a curse. Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve he eyed the two young men sitting across from him. ¡°I¡¯m not a coward,¡± he started. ¡°And I¡¯ve never asked anything of you two before-¡± Nash cut him off. ¡°We never thought you were.¡± ¡°You want us to help with Allanir?¡± Dylan asked. He licked his lips and nodded. ¡°We can do that,¡± Nash agreed. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be too hard with Taren around.¡± He glanced down at the table and bowed his head, fighting back the shame that wanted to swallow him whole. ¡°Thank you,¡± he muttered. Dylan and Nash pushed themselves off the bench. ¡°Come on,¡± Dylan said. ¡°We¡¯ll help you get your things together.¡± The music of the festival grew distant as they ran through dark and empty streets. Other than the occasional street lamp that broke the darkness here and there it was like the village had fallen into a quiet slumber. By the time they arrived, Dylan and Nash were breathing hard. The lack of light brightening the windows told him his parents were likely still at the feast. He lit a small candle and used it to light several others while Nash closed the door behind them. Even when racing against time he didn¡¯t see any need to hurry in the dark. He handed them both a lamp. ¡°The stairs are over there,¡± he said, nodding at the back. ¡°Nash, keep an eye on the street.¡± They made it several steps across the room when a shadow caught his eye. He stopped and swung his lamp around. In his father¡¯s chair by the fireplace sat a man all in black. His legs were crossed, fingers laced together, and he smiled as the light fell upon his face. ¡°Grendyl,¡± he gasped. Dylan bumped into him and jumped when Grendyl spoke. ¡°Saul. I was waiting for you.¡± He hesitated until Dylan nudged him and he blinked. ¡°Go upstairs and pack my things,¡± he said. ¡°You too, Nash.¡± Dylan gripped his shoulder and whispered behind his ear. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on but we can¡¯t wait too long.¡± ¡°I know,¡± he said. Nash followed Dylan out of the room. ¡°Just yell if the village comes knocking down the door,¡± Nash said. He watched them go and frowned when he was left alone with the man in black. ¡°When I hoped to meet you again this wasn¡¯t what I had in mind,¡± he said. ¡°Is it now? Am I interrupting?¡± He ignored the question and grunted. ¡°Is it normal to break into someone¡¯s home, waiting to ambush them in the dark?¡± Grendyl chuckled. ¡°I¡¯d hardly call it breaking. It took far less effort than sneaking into the lord¡¯s manor.¡± The shock this time was far less than what he¡¯d felt a moment ago. The man had said something about watching him. He licked his lips and went to the window, peeking through the heavy curtains at the empty street out front. ¡°I can¡¯t stay in Falden,¡± he said. ¡°It isn¡¯t safe for me here.¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t safe for you anywhere. Sheep will always eye the wolf with envy. The stronger you are the more enemies you¡¯ll acquire. This quarrel you have with young Barin is nothing more than a joke. Kill him and be done with it.¡± He looked back at the man sitting in his father¡¯s chair. Grendyl¡¯s face was hard to read but he couldn¡¯t miss the blunt honesty in his tone. ¡°You were right about Alazar. He pretends to be my friend but when my life was at stake he watched and did nothing. Even worse, he defended that piece of shit by putting a sword to my throat.¡± He set his lamp on a small table by the fireplace and paced around the room, remembering the rage he¡¯d felt that afternoon. ¡°I had him beaten,¡± he said. ¡°He was broken and on his knees. I could have crushed his skull and painted the cobblestones red with his blood.¡± He stopped in front of the man and sighed heavily. ¡°And it would have been utterly pointless. Lord Albryte would have seen me hanging from a tree before the day was done. I¡¯m such a fool.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Grendyl said. ¡°In that case, the answer is quite simple.¡± He glanced down at the man, curious. ¡°Kill them all.¡± His brows climbed up his forehead and he stared in silence for what seemed like an eternity. ¡°I know I can¡¯t hide my cultivation from you, so I wonder how exactly you expect me to do that.¡± Grendyl shrugged. ¡°Perhaps that is asking for too much.¡± Boots thudding on the hardwood floor in the next room interrupted them as Dylan walked in holding a large canvas sack stuffed to bursting with Nash following on his heel. He eyed the pack appreciatively. ¡°I was wondering what took you so long. Did you at least leave Taren his bed?¡± ¡°Never mind that,¡± Dylan said impatiently. ¡°Are you ready to go?¡± ¡°And what about him? Who is he?¡± Nash asked, studying Grendyl while adjusting his glasses. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s right. This here is Grendyl. He saved my life last night.¡± ¡°Wait, is he the one who killed Kalys?¡± Nash exclaimed, pointing his finger at the man in black. ¡°That was my subordinate,¡± Grendyl said. The man rose and moved to the edge of the window, peering out behind the curtain. Dylan looked at him expectantly. He held up a hand. ¡°Just a moment,¡± he said and turned to address the man. ¡°You knew about Alazar. And you¡¯ve been watching me. I have questions.¡± ¡°I have answers.¡± ¡°I hope you have more than that,¡± he said. ¡°I need someone to teach me how to cultivate the Lycan form.¡± Grendyl grunted softly. ¡°You presume a lot.¡± ¡°Why else would you have come here?¡± he said. ¡°But we have to leave now. There¡¯ll be no escaping the hounds if we wait too long. ¡°That eager to learn, are you?¡± Grendyl said, moving away from the window. ¡°You needn¡¯t worry about the hounds. It appears they¡¯ve sniffed you out already.¡± He cursed and rushed by the man to glance out into the street. Torches bobbed in the darkness and were almost in front of the door. ¡°I don¡¯t like to get involved in other people¡¯s affairs. But I¡¯ll make an exception this one time.¡± ¡°What are you going to do?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯ve persuaded men to lay down their arms once or twice. Perhaps I can do so again.¡± Grendyl looked toward Dylan and Nash who were suddenly in a panic. ¡°You two sneak around the back. My men are staying at the Iron Heart. That¡¯s on the other side of the village, isn¡¯t it? You better get going if they¡¯re to make it here in time.¡± They stood frozen in place, staring back in fear. ¡°Go!¡± Grendyl barked. They jumped and ran for the back door, disappearing around a corner. ¡°We should be running too,¡± he said. Shouts echoed through the street. He pulled back a corner of the curtain. Men wearing Albryte¡¯s house colors of red and gold underneath leather vests and bearing torches packed the narrow street. A man in chest plate stood at the forefront pointing down the street as guards fanned out around him. ¡°It¡¯s better to confront a problem than to run away from it,¡± Grendyl said. ¡°Be sure to pay close attention and remember that for the future.¡± He watched wide eyed as Grendyl strode out the front door and planted himself in the middle of the narrow street. He cracked the window and pressed himself against the wall beside it, peering out discretely behind the curtain. A gentle rain began to fall, filling the air with a faint, pelting rhythm and a subtle, clean scent. Two men came to the forefront to stand on either side of the armored guard. Barin appeared no better than he had that afternoon, only now his hands were wrapped and bound in place. His brother Jon, normally as calm as he was cold, looked furious. Barin¡¯s shrill voice pierced through the rain. ¡°Is that dog hiding inside? For your sake I hope you¡¯re not protecting him.¡± ¡°Peace, young lord,¡± Grendyl said. ¡°I¡¯ve just learned of the terrible events that you have been made to suffer through. If I may ask, show him mercy. He is young still and has yet to fully appreciate the consequences of his actions.¡± ¡°Mercy?¡± Barin shouted. ¡°You dare ask for mercy? After that peasant assaulted me? Both my wrists are broken. Even should they heal properly I¡¯ll never wield a sword as I used to. Do you understand? Now get out my way before I have you hung from the nearest tree.¡± Barin pushed his way past Grendyl followed by several guards wielding axes. ¡°Break it down,¡± Barin ordered, nodding at the door. He barely saw Grendyl move. His arm appeared from the darkness, holding a long, thin blade that curved slightly near the tip. Barin¡¯s head fell from his shoulders. ¡°Now,¡± Grendyl said, sheathing his sword. ¡°Does anyone else care to listen to reason?¡± Time slowed down. His breath caught. An age passed before the young lord¡¯s headless body finally collapsed. The guards stared in shock. No one moved an inch. Even Jon stood paralyzed. But the moment passed and Jon¡¯s cry spurred them into motion. The young lord drew his sword and swung his blade wildly above his head. Grendyl easily avoided it and drew his thin blade once more, slicing through Jon¡¯s wrist without so much as giving him a glance. Jon screamed and fell to his knees, clutching his bloody stump to his chest. Everything happened so fast. The guards drew their swords and circled Grendyl, pale faces grim. Grendyl danced around them as if they stood frozen to the cobble stones and cut them down like chopping wood for the fire. A few broke away and kicked in the door with a bang. He scrambled away from the window as a pair of grizzled men wielding swords strode in. He gritted his teeth and drew his own. One guard eyed him keenly while the other smiled at him through a thick curly beard. He activated his essence body and kicked his father¡¯s chair into their path. The man with the curly beard stumbled face first to the floor and cursed. With one down he took the chance to charge the other man who wasn¡¯t quick enough to stop his sword from parting his neck open with a spray of blood. Without wasting time he drove his sword down through the other guard¡¯s back before the man could fully rise to his feet. His hands trembled. He stared at the blood pooling on the hardwood floor. Kalys had been one thing. This was entirely another. He¡¯d just killed a man. No, he thought. Two men. Shouts and clanging steel echoed from outside. He could take his chances and flee through the back door but what would that mean for Grendyl? He cursed and bolted through the front. A dozen men sprawled motionless on the ground. Grendyl stood with his back facing him, sword held casually by his side. What must have been all of Lord Albryte¡¯s men filled the narrow street on both sides leaving no room to escape. He took a spot beside Grendyl and measured up the surrounding men. Fear bleed through their eyes, gripping the air around them. ¡°I thought you weren¡¯t going to kill them,¡± he said. Grendyl chuckled. ¡°You weren¡¯t listening. I said I would persuade them. It¡¯s not my fault the young lord chose not to listen.¡± ¡°But now there¡¯s no chance of us getting away. There¡¯s too many of them!¡± ¡°Listen, Saul,¡± Grendyl explained. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what you do to get what you want, so long as you get it in the end. It¡¯s fine if you could have talked your way out. But you couldn¡¯t. That leaves you with only one option. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.????"If you¡¯re not strong enough, or even willing, to fight for what you want then you have no right to complain. When these men came looking for your head they should have been prepared to die for it.¡± He opened his mouth but closed it without a word. He couldn¡¯t argue with that logic. Instead he wiped the rain from his brow and prepared himself, wishing he¡¯d taken the back door while he still could. Shadows dropped from the rooftops behind the guards. He blinked as screams split the air and the men circling them turned to face the new threat. Towering figures with glowing red eyes scattered the guards and tore through them with ease. Grendyl sheathed his sword with an unworried expression. He did the same, only much less confidently, after wiping the blood from his blade on a dead guard¡¯s cloak. ¡°It appears,¡± Grendyl said, ¡°that my men are going to clean up the rest. You should watch and learn, Saul. This is the power that you seek.¡± The Lycans towered above the guards. Thick shoulders supported a head shaped like a wolf¡¯s, ears like arrow tips, and jaws lined with glistening sharp teeth. They made quick work of the guards like children knocking over toys. The last of the guards, the man wearing plate, died horribly, lying prone on the ground as a Lycan planted a foot on his back and twisted his arms behind him until they ripped off, blood pooling into the mud and stone around him. Grendyl laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. ¡°As you said before, it¡¯s best we leave the village tonight. Let¡¯s go somewhere quiet for now where we can talk in peace.¡± He nodded absently. So much death littered the street that he couldn¡¯t take his eyes off of it. Grendyl wrapped an arm around his shoulders and began to lead him away. ¡°That¡¯s far enough, Grendyl. Take your hands off of him and let him go.¡± The familiar voice caught his attention. He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. ¡°Taren?¡± He said. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± His eyes swept over his brother to the man standing beside him and his mood suddenly darkened. ¡°And why is he with you?¡± Taren stood further back up the street from where the guards had come. Beside him Alazar crossed his arms. His usual lightheartedness replaced by a deep frown and a solid determination in his eyes. Behind them, Alazar¡¯s soldiers formed a line from one side of the street to the other. ¡°Saul,¡± Taren called out. ¡°Grendyl¡¯s not your friend. He wants to use you.¡± Grendyl held him close and sighed, whispering in his ear. ¡°It¡¯s unfortunate but Alazar has fed him nothing but lies. Just look at how close they are. We can help him but for now we need to leave.¡± ¡°Why wait,¡± he said. ¡°When we have the power of your Lycans?¡± An irritated look flashed through Grendyl¡¯s eyes but it was gone so fast he wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d seen it or not. ¡°He has the numbers.¡± And he saw that Grendyl was right. Only four Lycans stood in the street where Alazar had brought all of his men. Alazar¡¯s voice carried through the rain. His eyes flickered a brilliant shade of blue. ¡°Grendyl! You¡¯re not escaping this time. I¡¯ll have you finally answer for your crimes.¡± The man formed a glowing blue sword and pointed it directly at Grendyl. A bright wall of light erupted from the darkness behind him as essence swirled around Alazar¡¯s soldiers. The Dragons who emerged extended their hands and swords erupted from their palms in bright gouts of flame. Grendyl shoved him aside and cursed. The man¡¯s eyes suddenly glowed a deep, solid red. ¡°Lycans, with me!¡± Grendyl roared. The man bolted across the street littered with the bodies of dead and dying guards. He stood mesmerized by the Lycans who followed Grendyl. Glistening black armor coalesced out of shadows that washed over their black fur. Shadows sprang from their hands, revealing long, wickedly curved blades. Grendyl and Alazar clashed in a flash of pulsing red and blue light, swords hissing and hurling sparks as they clanged together, surrounded by a red and blue glow of essence that bore against each other. Oddly enough neither man manifested the form of his soul. It was just like when Alazar created that blue flame in the Tipsy Hound¡¯s common room. They didn¡¯t need to become a Lycan or a Dragon for more power. The essence itself bended to their will. He gaped, amazed by the incredible display of power. He felt like an ant crawling at the feet of giants. Then it suddenly occurred to him that Taren was still out there, caught right in the middle of it. He ground his teeth together and urged his legs to move but they wouldn¡¯t budge. The pressure exuding from the two men felt like it could crush him at any moment and his breath caught in his chest despite his best effort to take a deep breath. Coward, he thought, cursing himself. Pathetic, useless coward. Then he saw him. Taren threw himself at Grendyl, swinging a sword that he must have taken from one of lord Albryte¡¯s men. Grendyl dogged the blow with ease. Taren¡¯s momentum carried him forward and Alazar was forced to take a step back or get struck by Taren¡¯s sword. Grendyl spun on his heel. The back of Grendyl¡¯s boot caught Taren in the waist, sending his brother flying across the street. Taren bounced off a brick wall and landed face down on the cobble stones. He finally found the will to move. The Lycans and Dragons ignored him as he ran past them and knelt by his brother¡¯s side. Taren groaned when he rolled him onto his back. His brother smiled up at him, ignoring his protests as he pushed himself off the ground unsteadily. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Taren said. ¡°Everything will be alright. We can handle this.¡± He grabbed Taren¡¯s arm but his brother pulled away. ¡°Why are you with him?¡± He demanded. ¡°What haven¡¯t you told me?¡± Taren glanced over his shoulder, his beard parted by a sad smile. ¡°It¡¯s a long story. Just stay back where it¡¯s safe.¡± Taren took a few steps toward the clashing sides. He shouted through the rain but a blinding light suddenly engulfed his brother. It pulsed and waivered, erupting from the ground, and spiraled toward the dark sky above. It flashed and a moment later it blinked out of existence. He stared, shocked. He had never heard of anything like what stood in front of him. A small stab of pain wormed its way through his chest. Why hadn¡¯t his brother told him? For that matter, what kind of soul was this? From the light that split the dark, his brother stood, tall and gleaming. A Lycan that towered above all the others. His shoulders were thick as a dread bear¡¯s and his arms and legs stretched tight with muscle. The pressure he exuded spoke of tremendous power but that wasn¡¯t what had him staring. The color of Taren¡¯s soul shone a bright gold that pushed back against the night. His brother glanced over his shoulder once more, as if aware of the thoughts racing through his mind. Taren¡¯s eyes flickered a bright blue that danced and twisted like a flame. Taren met his gaze for a moment and then he was gone. It wasn¡¯t as if he had disappeared. His brother was simply that fast. He followed the blur as Taren crashed into Grendyl. Flames burst from his hands as a pair of giant double sided axes dropped into them. The assault caught Grendyl by surprise and the man stumbled backward. Alazar used that moment to strike, his sword leaping forth like a bolt of lightning for Grendyl¡¯s heart. Grendyl barely twisted away in time. Alazar''s sword bit into his shoulder instead. Grendyl grabbed it with his free hand. Before Taren could strike again a pair of Lycans fell from the sky. They weren¡¯t a part of the original four. As he looked up a cold dread crawled up his spine. Dozens of glowing red eyes floated in the darkness. Lycans crowded the roof tops along the narrow street like a murder of crows gathered for a feast. Taren fended off the Lycans, backing away from Grendyl and Alazar¡¯s fight. His brother had always been average with a sword at best. But with axes¡­he¡¯d never seen Taren train with an axe. Against two assailants he doubted Taren would hold out for long. His brother needed him. Grendyl, still gripping Alazar¡¯s sword with his free hand, broke the blade and ripped the broken shard of essence from his flesh. Alazar stumbled and Grendyl swung his sword. A red light coated the length of the blade as it crashed into Alazar¡¯s rippling blue aura. The sword came to a halt and shattered as though it had struck a wall. Grendyl and Alazar studied each other as they extended their hands. Glowing streams of light sprang from their palms and coalesced once more into solid essence blades. He tore his eyes away from them. Taren was on the losing side and yielding fast. He needed to make them stop. Nothing made sense but if nothing else did, at least the fact that Taren was fighting meant that he couldn¡¯t just watch. He drew his sword and caught his reflection in the wet, glistening steel. The eyes staring back at him were full of fright. He needed power. He focused on the essence circulating through his body. It flowed like a steady stream. The more he focused the wider it grew until a flood of essence filled his veins, but still it wasn¡¯t enough. Frustrated he eyed the ring, hoping it would suddenly give him the power he needed. But nothing happened. He took a deep breath and wiped the rain from his brow. He was done doing nothing. His brother was getting punished for his lack of skill and it looked to him like they were playing a game and his brother was their toy. That made him mad. He took one of them from behind, leaping onto the Lycan¡¯s back, and drove his sword down with all the strength of his cultivation behind it. He yelled as he felt the steel sink into hard muscle. The Lycan form suddenly vanished. He dropped out of midair and landed awkwardly on top of a man dressed in black. Red tattoos climbed up the man¡¯s neck and one side of his face, disappearing into a crown of long black hair. There was an eerie lack of blood on the blade but the man¡¯s eyes stared out lifelessly. The other Lycan roared, but instead of coming for him it renewed its frenzied attack on his brother. Its sword found Taren¡¯s belly, plunging all the way to the hilt. Taren dropped his axes and fell to his knees. He screamed. The sound ripped from his throat. He threw out his hand as if he could somehow reach out and take back what had happened. His face twisted and his heart clenched. He felt something as his hand stretched, as though he were pushing against a wall. He rose to his feet, denying what had happened. Refusing the pain that welled up inside his chest and dug into his throat. A darkness enveloped him. He blinked away the rain and tears pooling at the corners of his vision and realized he was suddenly as tall at the Lycan. No, taller even. The Lycan took a step back and tilted back its wolf like head. Its red eyes appearing confused. He threw himself at the Lycan. A shadow leapt from his right hand and suddenly he was holding a narrow sword, long as a man, that curved near the last foot of steel. It glistened black in the night and sliced through the rain as it found the corner between the Lycan¡¯s neck and shoulder. The Lycan¡¯s thick muscle stopped the blade and it howled from the shock. He clenched his jaw and gripped the blade with both hands. He roared and threw all of his weight behind it, tearing through the Lycan¡¯s neck and splitting its torso in half. The Lycan vanished. A man slumped to the ground. He ignored the body and knelt beside his brother. Taren¡¯s Lycan form hadn¡¯t disappeared like the others had when they died. That was a good sign, right? He examined his brother¡¯s wound and found the sword had vanished too. Thins whips of essence trailed out from the wound but otherwise it was healing. ¡°Saul,¡± Taren said feebly. ¡°You¡¯ve done it.¡± ¡°Done what?¡± he said. ¡°Haven¡¯t you realized? Go look at yourself.¡± He held his hands up to his face. Short black talons tipped his fingers and small interlocking black scales beaded with rain drops covered over every trace of skin. ¡°He¡¯s not going to want you now,¡± Taren said. ¡°I think you¡¯re safe.¡± ¡°What are you talking about-¡± A body flew past them and crumpled against a brick wall. Alazar¡¯s face was a bloody ruin. ¡°It¡¯s seems,¡± a voice rang out, ¡°I¡¯ve misjudged you.¡± Grendyl studied him with his hands clasped behind his back. A trail of blood soaked his shirt and cloak where he¡¯d been stabbed in the shoulder, but otherwise he seemed untroubled by it. ¡°I thought you were one of us,¡± Grendyl lamented. ¡°But you¡¯re one of them. The color of your soul is correct, but not the form of it. You¡¯re a Dragon.¡± Grendyl cocked his head to one side, red eyes glowing through the rain. ¡°It¡¯s peculiar. You and your brother posses the blood of both races. It¡¯s strange enough already that you can manifest your soul, but it appears that somehow it became twisted and perverted. You¡¯re abominations both of you.¡± He realized suddenly that other than the soft pelting of rain on the rooftops and cobble stones the street was now quiet. The Dragons were gone and Alazar¡¯s men were all down, either slumped against a wall or sprawled out motionless upon the ground. Dozens of red eyes glowed through the rain, in the dim shadows of the street and on the roof tops surrounding them. He gulped. ¡°What do you plan to do now?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to wipe away this embarrassment.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Taren pleaded. His brother rose unevenly to his feet, a golden tower of fur and muscle. ¡°If you leave my brother out of this, I¡¯ll go with you. I¡¯ll do whatever you ask of me. Just don¡¯t kill him.¡± Grendyl hesitated. A tiny smirk crept out from the corner of his lips. One that failed to touch his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s good that you¡¯ve finally come to the right decision. You don¡¯t belong with them, despite sharing their color. You¡¯re Lycan. But he¡¯s killed two of our own.¡± Before Taren could say another word Grendyl moved faster than a blur. He saw if before he felt it. Grendyl¡¯s face appeared below his chin, arm glowing a violent red. The man¡¯s fist sank deep into his gut. Air exploded from his lungs as he flew through a nearby wall. He crashed into a house-his house he realized-and smashed the table bearing the lamp he¡¯d lit earlier that night. It shattered against the floor. A fire burst into life from the oil splattered by the impact. Grendyl appeared above him. The man bent and grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him back into the street. The force of Grendyl¡¯s punch made him lose the form of his soul. His limbs felt lifeless and the flow of essence in veins halted completely. ¡°That was for my subordinates you killed,¡± Grendyl said kneeling down. ¡°I¡¯m sorry it turned out this way, Saul. Truly I am. You would have made the perfect Lycan. But sadly, we don¡¯t have the freedom to choose the legacy we inherit. Had I not come here fate would have found another way. You would have joined them eventually.¡± Grendyl stood and Taren joined him, dropping his Lycan form. His brother wore a sad, pained look as he stared at all the carnage. He tried reaching out to him but his arm wouldn¡¯t move. Nothing made any sense. Why did Grendyl want to kill him? Why was he taking Taren and leaving him behind? A Lycan bowed before Grendyl and growled. ¡°The Dragons are dead and the village surrounded. No one left to speak of us, as you ordered.¡± ¡°No,¡± Taren said. His voice quivered. He reached for Grendyl with a trembling hand. ¡°Please, no. They have nothing to do with this!¡± The Lycan shifted his attention, tensed as if he¡¯d tackle Taren to the ground if he came too close to his master. Grendyl eyed his brother with a smirk. ¡°You care for these people too much,¡± Grendyl said. ¡°And that will be the collar you wear from now on.¡± Grendyl ordered the Lycan beside him. ¡°Farol, have the others meet us at the rendezvous point. Immediately.¡± The Lycan bowed once more and retreated into the shadows. ¡°If a time should come where you ever consider disobeying me,¡± Grendyl said. ¡°Remember this. I can do more than burn this village off the map. Not even its name will be remembered after I¡¯m done with it.¡± Grendyl gave a signal and the Lycans dispersed, merging into the night. ¡°I have no doubt we¡¯ll meet again, Saul,¡± Grendyl said, addressing him with a cool casual tone. ¡°If you haven¡¯t surpassed all your limits by then you likely won¡¯t survive our next encounter. So I¡¯ll leave you with one last piece of advice. ¡°Three things make a cultivator powerful. But only one will make him strong. And that is the ability to produce results.¡± Grendyl left him on his back as he absorbed the shock of hearing his father¡¯s words. His brother¡¯s face was the last thing he saw as Taren followed the man in black down the dark, narrow road. He lifted his shoulders off the ground, the most he could move. A pelting rain drowned his meager shout as he cried out Taren¡¯s name. No one answered. It wasn¡¯t supposed to be this way. He dropped his shoulders and rolled his head on the cold, wet cobble stones. His vision blurred and the blood coated street faded into the night. Chapter 12 - Eliza Her chamber door closed with a soft click. Footsteps padded on the carpeted floor but she ignored them. She sat with her knees held to her chest in the dark confines of her canopied bed. She¡¯d lost track of how many days it had been since Gariel had visited her chamber. Since then she¡¯d nearly depleted her cache of numroot. She¡¯d have to order someone to get her more. The peaceful numbness that kept her fears at bay was wearing thin. She licked her lips and tasted the bitterness on her breath. The blinds opened with a screech. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. Daria wouldn¡¯t dare. It had to be that woman. ¡°It¡¯s been long enough,¡± Galoria said. ¡°How much longer do you plan to hide?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not hiding,¡± she said. ¡°Well then, you¡¯ve had us fooled, your Majesty. Everyone will be overjoyed to hear it.¡± She forced herself to crawl to the edge of the bed and pulled back the velvet drape an inch. She squinted against the sudden glare. The bright light made her head pound and she instantly regretted it, but she couldn¡¯t ignore her now. Galoria sat on the cushioned widow seat. Her thick platinum hair was bound in a braid and rested over her left shoulder. She was toying with the end of it. A long white cloak draped over her right shoulder hid her missing arm. The hilt of a sword poked out through the folds of the cloak. On the right side of her face a long scar traced over her cheek and brow, trailing into her scalp. The scar stood out as a pale reminder on her dark skin that this was not a soft woman. Galoria studied her with mismatching eyes. The one she could see through, a bright violet, the other gray and blinded by whatever had given her that scar. She looked away from Galoria¡¯s gaze. A touch of shame bubbled underneath the weakening effect of the numroot. What did she have to feel ashamed about? If she wanted to hole herself up in her room for a week then that¡¯s what she would do. She was queen. Who could tell her otherwise? ¡°You have us worried, Majesty,¡± Galoria said. Hearing that from her only deepened her shame. She pushed herself off the edge of the bed and took a seat on Galoria¡¯s left. Galoria stopped toying with her braid to take one of her hands. She felt the rough calluses on Galoria¡¯s palm as she gave her hand a squeeze. ¡°It¡¯s getting worse,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do. Or what to even think of it.¡± ¡°The visions?¡± She nodded. ¡°They¡¯re not real,¡± Galoria said. ¡°You¡¯re traumatized. That¡¯s all.¡± ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°My brothers were in the crowd. They caused the panic.¡± ¡°Perhaps you saw someone who resembled them?¡± ¡°It was them, Galoria. That Dragon didn¡¯t even move to stop my older brother from cutting through its leg. It didn¡¯t see him, despite there not being a cloud in the sky and the sun hovering right above us.¡± Galoria¡¯s worried expression turned wary. ¡°The driver did say there was nothing in the horse¡¯s path¡­¡± ¡°It was my younger brother,¡± she said. ¡°Bradyn walked out of the crowd. The horses ran him over. That¡¯s when the driver lost control and the harness broke. But that didn¡¯t stop him. He climbed into the carriage after that.¡± Galoria glanced around the room. ¡°If you keep saying things like that I¡¯m going to start looking over my shoulder from now on.¡± ¡°Not that it would do you any good.¡± Galoria chuckled. They sat in silence for a while until Galoria spoke again. ¡°You never told me what happened that night.¡± ¡°They died.¡± Galoria studied her silently. ¡°If what you say is true, it sounds as if they¡¯re trying to reach out to you. And not because they miss you.¡± She ignored the comment and stared out across the room. He cheeks felt hollow and worn, her body weak. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.????¡°I¡¯ve seen a lot of strange things in my life time,¡± Galoria said. ¡°Many of them impossible, but that didn¡¯t make them any less real. Let¡¯s say I¡¯m willing to believe you. ¡°If the spirits of the dead are here in this world and having an effect on this reality, then you need to find out why. Because I don¡¯t know of any weapon or armor that can protect you from the dead. ¡°And one more thing,¡± Galoria said rising. ¡°Stop taking numroot. Your breath reeks of it and it¡¯ll only cloud your mind. A queen needs a clear head and a sound heart. I¡¯ll send in the servants with a bath and fresh food. If you change your mind you¡¯ll find there¡¯s a lot of work to do.¡± She watched Galoria leave. The woman made a good point. It was something she needed to hear and not from anyone else. Galoria alone had always been the one who could offer her counsel without making her want to throw someone out a window. ¡°You always were a stubborn child.¡± She jumped to her feet. Smoke drifted through the room and a wave of heat washed over her. A figure stepped around the other side of her canopied bed. ¡°Father,¡± she said. ¡°Eliza.¡± A lump swelled in her throat. She balled her fists at her sides and forced herself to look. Her father stood tall, hands clasped behind his waist. Blood coated his chest from where his throat had been slashed. His clothes were singed and smoke rose from his wide shoulders. ¡°You finally acknowledge me,¡± he said. ¡°I thought I was going mad. I think I still might be.¡± He stared at her with pale, glassy eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t have the luxury to lose your mind, sweet daughter. Although, I am sorry. It wasn¡¯t supposed to turn out this way.¡± She chuckled nervously. ¡°Are you telling me I wasn¡¯t meant to watch my family slaughtered like sheep? That I¡¯m not supposed to be haunted by them? What a funny thing to say. How comforting.¡± Her father remained silent. ¡°Well?¡± She said. ¡°If I¡¯m really not talking to myself, I could sorely use an explanation.¡± ¡°We need your help, Eliza. That is all.¡± She threw back her head and laughed. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. Gariel didn¡¯t look as though he wanted my help. I¡¯m fairly certain he wants to kill me.¡± ¡°He is angry at the loss of his life. He had so much he wanted to do. It can¡¯t be helped. Jealousy has found his heart, but he doesn¡¯t want you dead. ¡°Eliza, listen to me when I say this. You are the only one with the power needed to do what¡¯s necessary. We are trapped unless you set us free.¡± She looked at him once more, this time in confusion. ¡°Necessary? I don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°You will. I am bound and cannot tell you everything. Not what you can do for us, nor what you can do for this country. You must learn it on your own.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can.¡± He limped forward and moved his hands out from behind his back. He held up the royal crown and offered it to her. ¡°The Sun will show you the way.¡± She took it and held it in the sunlight. Her hands trembled as she studied the way the light bounced off the cut rubies and polished gold. When she looked up her father was gone. She sat back down on the window seat and studied the crown in silence until a handful of servants entered her chamber with a tub and buckets of steaming water. She took a deep breath and laid the crown on a pillow. She still didn¡¯t fully grasp the situation, but one thing was clear to her. She wasn¡¯t hallucinating. Hiding in her chamber wasn¡¯t going to solve a thing. Galoria was right. Lucidia needed its queen. END OF PART 1 : HOMECOMING