《Fire in the Blood》


 Chapter One

    The sun¡¯s blissful rays shone down on Redven as he tore the dirt from its settled bed. The harvest last year was better than any in recent memory and he was lucky enough to reap the benefits. In fact, not only was his previous yield greater than any year in his short time as a farmer, but it was also better than many of his competitors, which had some people questioning his methods. But Redven believed that hard work was all it took and putting your blood and sweat in with the seeds didn¡¯t hurt. A lesson he would teach his son, Kairam. A strong young boy who took his father¡¯s strength and many of his looks but his mother¡¯s eyes made certain for a future that would be filled with many women, not that his father had any trouble. Redven¡¯s dark skin and even darker eyes drew many girls in with questions about his travels and adventures, such skin was not common in the capital. His dreadlocked


    Hair was kept neat in a ponytail, a trait he took from his father who felt it easier to keep and wash than to shave his head often, vowing that having as little maintenance was the key. Kairam had hair like his mother, wavy and thick. He was a lively boy whose antics were playful and his intelligence meant that he often surprised his parents with how much he understood. His father saw in him many of the traits that made his mother a goddess in his eyes. He saw Azura as a heavenly being, one of pure light and warmth. She knew how to quell his anger and read his mind. When she came into his life, she managed to climb into his warring heart and rip the thorn from deep inside it, allowing the wound to heal. As far as Redven was concerned, Azura filled his body with life when anger and darkness filled it before, and to see this in his son was a defining moment of pride.


    Kairam burst out of the door with a drinking pouch filled with fresh water from the nearby river. A light sheen of sweat had collected on his brow as he¡¯d been playing all morning with some of the local children. Azura had gone to the market and would be home in time to make dinner. Their family earned very little that they did not need to survive, but somehow Azura always managed to make dinner seem like a royal feast. Redven on the other hand, managed to make every meal seem like crumbs left for a giant. Aside from working very hard in the fields, he was a large man whose muscular body craved food, often shortly after having eaten his fill. Despite this, he was always sated by Azura whether through her cooking or anything else she would offer. And when his mind was restless, Azura would sing songs of love and joy to him, soothing his thoughts.


    Their household was rarely troubled, but when it was, it was Azura who would bring sense to the problem and it was she who would lead Redven to the answer he sought so that he could fix the problem. She knew that if his thoughts were not to breaking something they were to how best to fix it and fix it quickly. Azura saw the world with eyes that could discern value and importance from distraction, which Redven knew more than he knew the colour of the sky. It was his fiery passion and her calming demeanor that made the two of them thrive together. That said, this relationship was not without troubles, as nothing worth having is without toil. It was through mutual understanding of each other that made their marriage work as well as it did and it was from knowing who they were and that the other knew it too, that ensured that trust and respect were the foundations of their relationship, as was their mutual need for each other. Kairam didn¡¯t know it yet, but his parents had the relationship that they wanted him to have one day.


    That night dinner was braised duck with some assorted vegetables. Sweet potato to fill the belly, beans to grow the muscles and carrots to see better in the dark. Should Kairam actually eat all of his vegetables, these stories would have led him to believe he was some sort of higher being. The duck was somewhat of a celebratory purchase, rarely did anything so sought after end up on their table. Duck was a bird more often consumed by those with deeper pockets, as they are more difficult to keep and feed well, but Azura knew how proud Redven was of their success, so she wanted to celebrate the occasion with him. Dinner that night was the best meal Redven had eaten in his entire life. Not just for the quality or the love put into the meal, but the company and the serenity of the night. The sky was clear and a cool breeze drifted in through the window, bringing the sweetness of the summer air into the dining room. There was nothing in that moment that could ever be remembered as less than perfect.


    The next day Redven was visiting a friend in the city. He lived a day¡¯s ride from the city, so he would stay the night at The Leaky Boot Tavern. He knew the owner, so he was sure he might be able to stay the night and eat for less than usual. The owner has had many brawls and disasters strike the tavern but it was on the few occasions when they didn''t just sort themselves out that he needed help. Help that Redven was only to happy to provide. Besides, he knew his father when he worked in the city and so he was basically family.


    The friend who¡¯d invited him to meet was the garrison commander of the city guard¡¯s eastern garrison. After the multitude of wars and rebellions, Redven met Azura and quickly asked to be moved the the city guard, which was promptly obliged but even that was too far from comfort for Redven. Any possibility of dying brought him great anxiety and guilt. He feared that should he die, Azura would live her life never being treated the way she ought to be. She would go without being told every day that she was loved and cared for, she¡¯d go without somebody willing to beckon to her every need. And selfishly, he feared that he would miss the opportunity to be the one to do these things for her, feeling blessed by an unseen god with more luck than any man had ever had. So he left the city guard for the farmer¡¯s life, a life of hard work and simple satisfaction. Though, it was not his calling and his friend knew this.


    Since they last spoke, his friend had risen to the rank of Chief Commander, one of four warchiefs under the General. His position was not only one of great import but also one of great influence. Knowing this, Redven¡¯s intrigue was piqued when he received a message from his friend about the meeting. What could he want from him now, thought Redven, now that he¡¯d hung up his swords? He travelled all day to reach the city of Amerossa. The ancient walls, sand in colour and feel but older than any history book can tell, were a welcome sight after the long day of travel. Whilst adept at horse riding, he much preferred being on his own two feet, though it was thought that he did not ride a horse into battle because he wished to inspire the men.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The old tavern wasn¡¯t far from the eastern entrance to the Outer Ring. Amerossa was split into several rings, the Outer Ring was heavily populated and housed many of the poorer folk. The Middle Ring was more of a market district which housed merchants and lesser nobles. Whilst the Inner Ring was home to the upper class, the higher nobles, and was a stark contrast to that of the Outer and Middle Rings. The Inner Ring was clean white with marble in every direction, guards spangled in their ornate red uniforms. Uniforms that looked more suitable for a toy than a warrior, but in the Inner Ring it was more likely that a bee would cause an uprising than any of its inhabitants. The Inner Ring guards were often sons of the lesser nobles who didn¡¯t have the brains to pursue a trade or maintain the family business. The old tavern Redven chose was far from the pomp of the Inner Ring, and the patrons were proud of it.


    He entered the tavern on a night he thought would be quiet, but found quite the opposite. A male and female duet were playing their instruments in the far corner with many of the patrons singing along to the song, drunkenly dancing about and spilling the cheap mead on the floor. Some of the patrons playing various games with cards and knives around the tavern, wagering money they couldn¡¯t afford to lose. Behind the bar stood a stout man whose face betrayed his age by a quarter century. A man whose brow rose to heights that alarmed those drinking in front of him, as they¡¯d never seen the man offer much more than a scowl at the best of times. But the sight of an old friend thought long gone was something the man could not contain his feelings about.


    ¡°Redven,¡± said the barkeep, ¡°is it winter already or is that hell freezing over? I never thought I¡¯d see you again!¡±


    Redven beelined for the bar to shake the man¡¯s hand, grasping his forearm with a vice-like grip and a steady shake.


    ¡°Gunther, it would appear that all the fun you¡¯ve had in life has finally caught up to you! How are you old friend?¡± said Redven, his face quickly flooded with a toothy smile. The two men spoke long into the night, reminiscing old adventures and sharing the news of their lives today. Redven asked if anything out of the ordinary had happened that Gunther knew about that could warrant his return to the capital, but he knew of nothing. All seemed well in the city and unless it was a well kept secret, perhaps his friend just wanted to catch up with a brother from war.


    Redven took to his room early so as not to be tired during his meeting the following day. Gunther gave him the guest room for the night, knowing it¡¯s quality was higher than that of the rooms for hire and that he deserved the best of what he could offer. The two of them had shared many difficult times together, none more so than the death of Gunther¡¯s wife, several years before Revden met Azura. She was staying at her sister¡¯s property North-West of the capital when a small group of marauders, who until then had been ambushing and robbing travelling merchant carts, decided to ransack the property. His wife, used to dealing with unruly patrons and strong willed men, took it upon herself to rid her sister of the brigands. Unfortunately, she did not fare well. When Gunther hadn¡¯t heard from her or seen her in a few days he closed the tavern and made the journey to the house, only to find his wife and sister-in-law¡¯s family gutted and left for dead inside the house. His wife, still beautiful in his eyes, was beaten and covered in small cuts before the obvious killing blow to the stomach.


    Gunther wept to his friend, who at the time was driven by rage and the promise of bloodshed, and the two of them set themselves as bait for the marauders. They borrowed a military cart from the garrison Redven commanded and removed the military accessories and embellishments. After loading it up with some empty barrels of wine and boxes labelled with false contents, they began to travel up the road which had multiple reports of attacks from the group. It wasn¡¯t long before a few men stopped them in their tracks. They acted as fools to the men, feigning weaknesses and ignorance. They waited patiently and played the game, until more men came out from the woods to carry the rest of the cargo. They were left with their horses and cart so that they could continue their business and agreed to pay a fee of sorts each time they used the road, for safety, they were told.


    Once the men revealed themselves, Redven quickly scanned the nearby forest and found nobody else hiding as far as he could see. He grabbed a cloth wrapped bundle from under the carriage and flung it open, grabbing two swords from mid-air and readied his stance, the blades already unsheathed to save time. Gunther grabbed a small battle axe just as it hit the ground and launched towards the man who¡¯d done all of the speaking. Redven was confident that Gunther could finish him off, so he took to cleaning up the rest. He was in his prime, a master of the blade and combat, but that wasn¡¯t what set him apart from other combatants. He had an innate ability to adapt to any fighting strategy or technique. He wasn¡¯t always the strongest or the most experienced, but if he could survive the fight long enough, he always won. On this day he left the shackles and the eye patch at home, as he didn¡¯t seek to handicap himself this time. Instead, he took a life with each swing of his sword. Dodging the bandit¡¯s attacks as if time were slowed to a halt, his attacks were calm and precise. He took little pleasure in this fight, for he knew that these men were simple brutes, not the trained warriors he was used to battling.


    After he¡¯d dispatched several of the men with swift precision, he turned to find Gunther holding the bandit leader¡¯s baton against its owner¡¯s throat. The man was dead, but still Gunther forced the wood hard against his lifeless body. He was sobbing heavily, soaking the face of the corpse underneath him and mumbling between sobs. Redven only managed to decipher the wife¡¯s name out of what he said between the sudden deep breaths and the heavy sobs that shook his body. He could see that Gunther knew the man was dead, but he wanted him to feel the pain he felt. He wanted him to feel the soul wrenching emptiness that consumed him. He wanted to inflict ten times the pain so he would understand what he has done.


    But the man was dead, and Gunther felt no better for it.

 Chapter Two

    The city was loud in the early hours of the morning. This was truer the farther out from the palace you were. The Inner Ring was often quiet until near noon, but the Outer Ring, where the work was done, would be quiet for all of the six hours that many of the tradespeople would allow themselves to sleep, four if they had a good head for business. This is something Redven hadn¡¯t missed about the Outer Ring. But he did like the sense of life in the city. Always people moving, things happening. He felt strong in the city, he knew his own power and when he lived there, he could have slept in the middle of the road covered in gold coins and the worst that would happen to him would be an elderly lady covering him with a blanket so that he wouldn¡¯t get cold. He was respected and popular.


    His popularity didn¡¯t come from his position alone. It came from how he treated the people he was there to protect. It came from the way he dealt with their problems and the problems they caused him. And the fact that he was a heavily decorated war hero didn¡¯t hurt either, as most people in Amerossa saw it as the only safe haven in the land. Hearing stories about the forest to the east being filled with giant spiders and the demonic birds who prey on the weak who travel through the desert beyond the forest. With nature and its lesser inhabitants making the east seem like a terrible idea, the west is still battling with itself and on occasion with Amerrossa. Bandit crews, militias to stop the bandits, warlords who would make themselves king of lands they would steal, only to have it stolen from a rival warlord. If you were more than a day''s ride from the city, you were in danger as far as the people of the capital saw it.


    He made his way down to the tavern, greeted by a chipper Gunther who was pleased to have seen his old friend again, even if only for a short while.


    ¡°Good morning Sunshine, mead makes the morning merry!¡± he said, his arm outreached with a cup in hand.


    Redven hobbled down the stairs towards the bar, alternating which eye he looked though before they inevitably and involuntarily shut themselves, his body convinced that he should still be asleep. He groaned at Gunther as he took a slow, steady swig of the sweet beverage. After downing the mead, he embraced Gunther and thanked him for his hospitality.


    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯d stay another night, after your meet?¡± asked Gunther, keen to relive some of the antics from their past.


    ¡°I¡¯d love to friend, but my world awaits me patiently not more than a day¡¯s ride from here and I wouldn¡¯t have them wait any longer than needed.¡±


    ¡°Well, just know that you¡¯re always welcome and the women around here miss you more than you know,¡± said Gunther, winking and shoving Redven, which broke his stale expression into a cheeky smirk.


    Chief Commander James Morhiem was a very laidback man when Redven knew him. His tactical acumen and combat skills were highly regarded and accurately attributed to his quick rise in the Amerossan military. He possessed an elegant intelligence which appeared to make great leaps in thought well before most had the chance to consider the situation. When he reached the same rank as Redven, he chose to take command of a city guard garrison rather than one of those attached to the army. Redven thought that it wouldn¡¯t last very long and that he¡¯d crave combat and the thrill of defeating an enemy, but Morhiem never returned to the army, despite his strategic mind having the room to thrive there. Instead he remained in command of the city guard, and was now one of the most powerful men in the city. Perhaps, Redven thought, this was his plan all along.


    They met in the royal gardens in the Inner Ring under an old tree. The tree bloomed with delicate flowers whose aroma was sweet and refreshing. Throughout the garden Redven could see others having similar meetings, private and intimate. Men taking noble ladies through the flower sanctuaries, no doubt comparing them to the flowers or some such. Nobles speaking sternly to merchants, likely attempting to skimp on small amounts of coin as many of the poorer nobles did. The tree had a small table and two benches underneath it, the outdoor set made of a white marble. Despite the heavy furniture, it appeared that the grass beneath it was as green as the rest of it, which suggested to him that perhaps the furniture hadn¡¯t been there very long. After all, he couldn¡¯t see furniture anywhere else in the garden.


    He sat and waited only briefly, before catching sight of Morhiem from of his peripheral vision. A man of average build and pale skin approached, with two armed guards seemingly attached to his tailcoat. Brown flowing hair cascading down to his shoulders, made of what appeared to be silk imitating hair. His light green eyes made them noticeable at a distance, catching Redven¡¯s as soon as he turned his head to greet him. Redven stood as Morhiem approached and gave a modest, low bow. His bow was met by one much lower, Morhiem reaching the full depth by going down onto one knee, his entourage following suit.


    ¡°Greetings Commander Redven, I welcome you to this fine city and thank you for your prompt arrival¡± announced Morhiem in a very formal manner, his voice carrying its strong tone throughout the garden for some way, turning the heads of those who waltzed amongst the hedges. It was customary to be quiet in the garden, treating it much like a library. Of course, nobody would say anything about it, particularly to Morhiem.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°I¡¯m happy to meet with an old friend, Chief Commander¡± replied Redven, who was made somewhat uncomfortable by the unexpected formality of the situation, extending his hand to Morhiem. Morhiem shooed his guards away as he shook Redven¡¯s hand and sat at the table opposite him. They left without hesitation, seeing their master¡¯s guest unarmed and seemingly friendly was enough for them.


    The conversation was somewhat formal and predominantly small talk, Morhiem¡¯s promotion came up as well as Redven¡¯s new life in the eastern farmlands and the subsequent troubles he had caused the other farmers, but it wasn¡¯t long before Morhiem could see on Redven¡¯s face that he grew tired of the idle chatter and wished to get to the point. After all, he had travelled far enough from his family to cause worry and fear in his heart.


    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s time to get to why I¡¯ve asked you here,¡± said Morhiem, the tone of their meeting changing immediately with those words.


    ¡°I have asked you here because I have a proposition for you, a request from an old friend and a wonderful opportunity. Before you say anything, please just hear what I have to say,¡° requested Morhiem, remembering the last time they spoke on similar topics.


    ¡°Our men are weaker for your absence, your training and command made them into the fierce warriors that have been protecting this city for decades, but the current trainers and commanders do not have the same instinct or knowledge you have. I would like for you to return to the city and live here in the Inner Ring, your only job would be to train the men. I¡¯m not asking you to fight or be part of the guard. You won¡¯t have to lead anybody, just turn the men from the sword swinging fools they appear as, into the ultimate defenders of human life,¡± said Morhiem, keeping steady eye contact with Redven, who had predicted the outcome of this conversation when he was asked to avoid interrupting. He noticed the careful wording of the request, seeing this as a manipulation of sorts. But Redven was not one to normally take the time to filter his thoughts before revealing them, so perhaps a measured response was best to match a measured approach.


    He took a deep breath and made certain that Morhiem knew he was taking time to consider the offer, but Redven knew he would decline before he set to travelling here, he just had to find the right words. The farm kept him and his family safe because it was far enough away from this world of fighting and it was hard enough work that he simply didn¡¯t have time to think about it. To move back, even into a training role, would likely spark the flame that raged in his heart before meeting Azura. He thrived on battle and combat, but it was all he had and meeting Azura showed him just how much more he could have. Redven¡¯s passion for combat and particularly the duel between two warriors was one with which he had struggled with for a long time, often dreaming of defeating men in single combat only by a fraction, his armour and flesh torn to shreds but in the end he prevailed. Redven¡¯s greatest shame was that he longed to lose. He had fought his whole life and it had been more than a decade since he lost a fight, his sword master was the last to defeat him, at which point he made Redven swear he would never lose again. The next time they fought, Redven won by simply never losing, he outlasted and defended furiously, knowing he didn¡¯t have the talent or the skill to out manoeuvre or outwit his master. So he waited, patiently blocking every strike perfectly, making sure his footing was correct and he made sure of his surroundings, until eventually his master could no longer hold the wooden practice sword in the air, lowering his guard enough that Redven struck to his throat with all of his remaining might, stopping within a hair¡¯s width of his master¡¯s flesh.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do it James,¡± began Redven ¡°it¡¯s just too much. I¡¯m not the same man. My son can¡¯t see me like that. I¡¯m sorry, friend. I truly am¡±


    ¡°I feared as much. Well the offer stands and should there be anything I can do to sway your thoughts, I¡¯m prepared to do it. Whatever it takes, make it known,¡± said Morhiem with a sigh, his hands meeting at the fingertips before clenching together in a combined fist. Redven stood and looked Morhiem straight in the eye as he delivered his goodbyes. Morhiem asked that he discuss it with his family and think it over.


    That night Redven drank with his friend Gunther and gave him the time he had longed for, whilst partaking in some spiced mead from Gunther¡¯s private stock, which in actuality was not so much a stash as it was a constantly replenished supply of his own brew which he refused to sell in the tavern for fear of anybody having any opinion on it. If they liked it he would have to make more and sell it, taking the fun and passion out of making it and if they disliked it he¡¯d have to kill them. At least, that¡¯s what he told Redven in his defence. Redven slept, but not well. Tossing and turning throughout the night, never finding a comfortable position. It wasn¡¯t the bed or the alcohol that kept him awake. His mind raced through the same thoughts over and over, not able to let go of the anxiety he felt about going home. What would Azura say when she found out? He couldn¡¯t keep it from her, he never lied to her and she¡¯d ask what was so important that he needed to travel to the city. And what if she said yes and wanted to move here? What if he turned into his old self, would she still love him? Would his son end up the same?


    Morning came all too quickly for Redven, feeling that he¡¯d only just gotten to sleep. His goodbyes with Gunther were a little more emotional than he¡¯d expected, from both sides. Gunther expressed his gratitude for Redven¡¯s visit, promising to visit his family on the farm some day. Redven was pleased to hear it. The two embraced each other like two bears wrestling in play. His return journey felt shorter than the initial leg, though his horse was noticeably more worn out than last time. Redven¡¯s excitement was met and surpassed by that of his family, Kairam dashing to his father at the door, snaring his legs with his entire body, tangling himself between them. Azura glided over to him, more radiant in his eyes than ever. Redven didn¡¯t need to lose Azura to know her value to him, but the brief distance certainly made his heart grow fonder. Not one woman in Amerossa started his heart like Azura did, not even the young noblewomen of the Inner Ring. This was the life he needed. It may not suit the purpose that he fit so well, but it was the one that gave him the most joy.

 Chapter Three

    Weeks had past since Redven had visited Morhiem and Gunther in Amerossa. The tranquility of farm life was one of the many reasons that contributed to declining the offer from Morhiem. But not everything was a plus when it came to farm life. Redven had managed to frustrate some of the other farmers with his success. He didn¡¯t know just who or how much, but all was made known at the local fair. Many of the farmers would bring their animals and produce to the fair, showing off and trading happened in equal portions. Some would bring their baked goods to share and sell, often goading their competition with old favourites that were difficult to replicate. They even had a competition for certain animal and produce categories. Redven wasn¡¯t entering in any of them, preferring to enjoy the day with his family, but some of the farmers took the opportunity to pester him about his previous yield.


    ¡°Here he is, the wizard himself,¡± shouted an unruly man Redven didn¡¯t recognise. Likely a cousin of some farmer, he thought.


    ¡°What special seeds did you get from the city this time? The King give you these ones or did you buy them from a witch?¡± said Grey John, stepping out from behind the man who started the hollering.


    Redven walked on, attempting to ignore the men, but deep inside he wished he could smash his head against theirs and push his memories of long hot days in the field straight into their empty heads. His grip tightened around Azura¡¯s hand, but she was quick to calm him, she placed her hand on his shoulder, ¡°It¡¯s alright dear, their envy is nothing to get upset about,¡± she said softly.


    The rest of their day was spent tasting the food on offer and petting the animals that turned up for the show. The best event the fair had to offer was the talent show. These weren¡¯t your ordinary talent show acts, like fire breathing or sword swallowing as is common in Amerossa. In this talent show, the farmers would perform an act with their chosen partner which had to be one of their farm animals. Redven had trouble discerning his favourite this year, a difficulty he shared with Kairam. They were both certain it was between the woman and her rooster who sung a duet in perfect harmony or the man who performed magic tricks with his prize winning cow, completed with sawing her in half and selling her off in burlap sacks, only to have her reappear alive and well, the sacks filled with her dung as an added comedic ruse.


    Leaving the fair proved more difficult than expected. The day had gone well, but some had not been able to leave their judgements at home. Grey John and several of the other farmers who were affected by Redven¡¯s success had decided to share their minds with him, their day of drinking reinforcing their confidence. The men waited a little way down the road from the fair, on the way to Redven¡¯s farm. He saw them huddled further down the road and asked Azura to keep Kairam close and to go back to the fair should he look like he is in trouble. She nodded and lessened her stride, holding Kairam tight to her. As Redven approached the men, the abuse came.


    ¡°You come here with not a single drop of farming blood and you cheat us out of our livelihood!¡± yelled Grey John, opening the floodgates for the others.


    ¡°My family has been farmin¡¯ ¡®ere for nine generations! The city was a pile o¡¯dust when my great pappy built his legacy! And here you come along, puttin¡¯ me and me fam¡¯ly in dire straits!¡± said a man from behind Grey John, his voice unfamiliar to Redven.


    ¡°We ought to teach you a lesson, for messin¡¯ with our lives you city scum!¡± said Grey John, seemingly leading the charge. He took a step back and came in hard with a slow haymaker, a strike dodged easily by Redven, but the kick that came from behind Grey John wasn¡¯t something Redven saw telegraphed, copping the bottom of the man¡¯s boot to the leg. Losing his balance, two of the farmers jumped on him and held him by his arms so the others could deliver the lesson.


    Redven used their steady hold on his arms to prop his legs up and kick Grey John in the face, sending the drunk farmer stumbling backwards several lengths, his rear end meeting the dirt road hard. The two remaining farmers came at him simultaneously with vicious punches to his torso. Redven was stronger than the men holding him, jerking to the left to pull his right arm and the farmer attached to it straight into the blow from his comrade. The captor of his right arm dropped to the ground like the burlap sack from the magician¡¯s show. His offender reeled back in shock that he¡¯d downed his own friend. Redven took the opportunity to remove the grip that held his left arm, striking the farmer in the throat with a swift elbow, enough to cause choking without injury.


    The uninjured remainder came with great anger, furious that he had dared to fight back. Dodging left then right, Redven danced around them like the drunks they were, seeing every move as it was broadcast so obviously. The long wind up for the over-reaching hook, the swing back before the kick, Redven saw it all. Though he never thought to reason with the men, it would have done no more than anger them further. As Redven knew all too well, men who seek blood often find it, and he would be the one to give it to them. A quick jab to the throat and an elbow to the temple for the other. The fight was over. Grey John muttered something from behind his hand as he tried to hold the blood inside his head, but it was lost on Redven. All he could hear was the wind blowing through the trees and his heart beating a thousand times a second.


    Azura rushed over with Kairam, grabbed Redven by the shoulders and assessed him, grabbing his face and rotating his head to look for cuts. The full moon providing ample lighting, but it wasn¡¯t necessary. Redven was fine. In fact, he felt more than fine. He felt alive. The adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he walked home with his little family, his hand trembling in Azura¡¯s. Kairam began to speak, hoping to praise his father but quickly he was hushed by his mother, not wanting to condone the behaviour until he was old enough to understand. For now, it was enough that he saw his father defend himself. A quality she was thankful for and afraid of. Not for her own safety, but for his. Redven¡¯s demeanor was brighter now than it had been all day, which worried his wife.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    That night he didn¡¯t join her in going to bed. Instead, he sat on a barrel outside the front of their house and stared at the sky, thinking back to previous conflicts when the sky looked down with the same impartial beauty. The dark expanse filled with distant stars and moons was always a welcome site at the end of a day of battle. He thought about the job offer he turned down and remembered back to the fight. He knew how to kill them. He threw every strike with intent to wound or disarm, but the decisions came moments before he acted, a decision that could have easily been to wound permanently or to kill. A punch to the throat will stop a drunk man who has fought more pigs than he has men, but then to kick him in the throat as he bends over to search for air, that is where Redven held himself short. Maybe he could handle that job without endangering his family? Or maybe he just got lucky? What if he had taken the job thinking he could handle it only to realise he couldn¡¯t? The excitement of the night had run its course and with a long yawn he found himself ready for bed.


    The next day one of the men visited the farm. Redven stood in the back of the nearest field, close enough to see the man approach from a far distance. Redven walked with purpose towards his house, pitchfork in hand. His stride was long and determined, but the man turned to him and raised both hands to eye level. When he came into earshot, the man called out to Redven,


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry friend, last night was a poor way to go about it.¡±


    Redven continued his march towards the visiting farmer, slamming the pitchfork into a dirt mound. He came within reaching distance of the man, close enough to see his brow crease as he approached.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± asked Redven, looking for only two words from the man¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°Caine Sommersby,¡± replied the man, bringing his hands together in front of him as if to fix his belt with both hands, ¡°But my friends call me Sommers.¡±


    ¡°Well Sommers, how about you come inside for a drink and some food,¡± Redven said with a stern look on his face.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not eat your food, but I¡¯d love to come inside¡±


    ¡°Should I make you eat it?¡± said Redven, a cheeky smirk creeping from his mouth. Sommers smiled awkwardly and followed Redven inside.


    Redven walked to the kitchen and grabbed a plate with cheese and bread on it before pouring himself and Sommers some water. He quickly downed his own cup and poured another, thirsty from the morning of work.


    ¡°You¡¯ve a lovely home,¡± said Sommers, an awkward attempt at small talk in the house of the man who he recently had made an enemy of.


    ¡°But did I earn this house or did I steal it?¡± Redven said with a bitterness lingering in his words. He had allowed the man into his house to give him the opportunity to explain himself, but he would not forget what had happened last night and would not let being attacked in the presence of his family go by too easily.


    ¡°Well¡­ I suspect that the sweat on your brow is like that of any who earns his keep, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± Sommers said, still awkwardly testing the waters.


    ¡°As I said before, last night was not a shining moment of mine and I¡¯m sure the others would feel the same. I¡¯ve come to ¡ª ¡±


    ¡°And where are they?¡± interjected Redven.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t feel the drink in the morning like some men and my head only hurts when I touch the bruise, mayhaps they are still recovering from their wounded egos?¡±


    ¡°Hmmh.¡±


    Redven sat at the small table opposite Sommers and handed him a plate of food and his water. The two drank in unison, Sommers moving momentarily behind Redven as if to copy him.


    ¡°What they do is not my concern I¡¯m afraid. When I woke this morning I realised that what I¡¯d done was not something I want to hear of my son doing should he become frustrated by life,¡± said Sommers as a genuine look of remorse took hold of his face.


    ¡°And what would you want of your son?¡± asked Redven.


    ¡°I¡¯d want him think for himself and to talk to a man before hitting him¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember you hitting anyone,¡± said Redven, quick to retort the point, not allowing any quarter.


    ¡°I hit the ground¡± laughed Sommers


    Sommers and Redven spoke for longer than it took to apologise, sharing stories of things they did as children and what it¡¯s like seeing their sons do the same. As the sun rose higher, bringing the workable day closer to its end, Sommers took his leave so that he too could work the fields. Redven welcomed an enemy and said farewell to the closest thing to a friend that he¡¯d made since he moved out of the city. That afternoon a rider arrived at the farm with a message from Morhiem, hoping for Redvent to meet him in the city again. Persistent, Redven thought. Morhiem was like a mule when it came to getting what he wanted. He was a fierce warrior and a brilliant strategist, which put him two steps ahead of much of his competition. He was a man who could play the long game before the game was started, the kind of man who only truly competed with time. And time was exactly what Redven needed.


    Azura¡¯s response was support to the letter, but Redven could see the worry in her eyes. She was concerned about the farmers who hadn¡¯t come to apologise, the ones who may very well still hold a grudge. A grudge made worse by a resounding defeat. She quickly dismissed the idea and encouraged Redven to make the journey, but asked if he could return as soon as he could, not wanting him to miss Kairam¡¯s first day at school. They were sending him a little earlier than usual, his curious and keen intellect was motivation enough. They thought that the sooner he started school, the sooner he could finish and choose his own path. Unlike his parents, he would be given the choice of all that was on offer. His mother learned to work the loom from her mother, as she did from hers. His father worked as an assistant to a blacksmith before being forcibly recruited by the Amerossan army, both cases being literal trials by fire. He grew up as an orphan, but he always made the most of what he had. Kairam would never have to starve or worry about the roof over his head, his parents would make sure of that.

 Chapter Four

    Redven rode to Amerossa in a somewhat confused state of mind, he was frustrated that Morhiem continued to badger him about coming to the city, but was conflicted by the request. He could very well ignore the invitation or send a letter in response, but he wasn¡¯t willing to risk losing him as a friend over being a little rude. Morhiem had shown, on several occasions, a rage that seemed to erupt from his otherwise relaxed attitude. Something he had never seen, but had heard of more than once. Being so used to getting his way, particularly now, Redven worried that should he upset him, he might lose an old friend. But his family was more important to him than any friend, and he would have to be somewhat austere if he was to get his point across once and for all.


    Redven did not stay at The Leaky Boot that night, opting to get as much rest as possible so that he could return home once the meeting was over. He chose a quieter inn located near in the Middle Ring. The outside of the inn was decorated with white walls and green cast iron vines than adorned the doorway and around the windows, with actual vines climbing up the walls from the garden below. He couldn¡¯t understand the writing on the sign as it was too ornate and fancified, which probably impressed a lot of the nobles, he though. It was very quaint and well kept, there were a few patrons drinking and eating inside and a performer singing and playing a harp on the stage. They played a lullaby that is often sung to children, but most parents only sing them the first and second verses. He walked in on the fifth verse, where the story would take a turn for the worse. He paid the barman for some bread, water and a room for the night, opting to leave his horse at the eastern gate stables. The stable boy there recognised Redven from a stable fire that he was rescued from, Redven managed to give the boy some brief care before rushing back into the fire to save his best friend. So naturally, he took the opportunity to pay him back when and where he could.


    Sleep came slowly for Redven, the lyrics to the Crying Men still running through his mind. He¡¯d not heard the song in some time and didn¡¯t feel it was the kind of song he wanted his son to have in his head. The lullaby is less of a soothing tale to lull children to sleep, but more of a warning to children who would misbehave. Should they disobey their parents and teachers, the Crying Men will get them. Redven prefered to think that his son could be reasoned with by his parents, rather than threatened. After all, threats often had the opposite effect on Redven. The song itself, though rarely played on a midsummer afternoon, was one that required some skill both in playing the music and telling the story through song.


    Redven arrived in the garden earlier than he¡¯d been requested, but he didn¡¯t want to look through any of the stores or see any of the street performers, so he opted to sit in the garden and think. For somebody who preferred to take action, Redven found himself thinking a lot. This was probably for the best, he thought. The table and chairs were no longer under the tree where they met last, the grass looked as though the furniture had never been there. As Redven examined the tree, he heard footsteps behind him as they trampled along the grass. They sounded swift and deliberate, perfectly timed with an accurate length of stride. He was being approached by someone in the military, who had received a lot of training and was very disciplined.


    Redven turned to meet whomever would approach him, finding the slim build of what appeared to be a woman in the royal colours of red and black, but the uniform was unfamiliar to him. It was tight leather with a heavily pocketed belt as well as two bandolier that held several daggers and other assorted pockets, some for carrying potions and others for maps and so on. As she came closer, her footsteps became silent and yet her movement looked the same. To walk to deliberately and make no sound, a very dangerous woman, thought Redven.


    ¡°Redven, good to see you,¡± said the woman, her voice sounded familiar but not quite.


    ¡°You know who I am, but I don¡¯t know your name.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve forgotten me already? Must be all that time in the sun,¡± she said with a smirk, her teeth were white and her smile brought joy to Redven¡¯s heart as he was hit by a sudden realisation.


    ¡°Nala! You¡¯ve aged!¡± he said with a glint in his eye, followed by a toothy grin.


    ¡°And you¡¯re as rude as ever!¡± she said, punching him in the arm as she laughed.


    Redven embraced Nala as old friends do, but she squeezed him long and tight.


    ¡°Everybody has missed you¡­ even me¡± she said, looking down at her shoes as she trailed off at the end.


    ¡°I¡¯ve come to take you to Chief Morhiem, he is too busy to bring you flowers today, so you¡¯ll have to come to him¡± Nala said, continuing to make fun.


    Nala lead him through the garden to the western entrance to the palace, asking questions about his life and pestering him to take the job and move back to Amerossa. She was the same girl he knew when he was in the army, but somehow she had grown up. Not just in the natural sense, a girl becoming a woman, but she was mature despite her playfulness. Her eyes and smile hadn¡¯t changed a single bit, but the scrawny tomboy that Redven knew was no longer scrawny or a tomboy. Despite the outfit, Nala looked like she could very well be a different person. Her high cheekbones and large blue eyes were made all the more beautiful by her soft glowing skin, several light freckles scattered under her eyes. Her short cut hair was a deep brown that shined when the sunlight managed to find it under her cowl.


    ¡°So, what do you do around here now that you¡¯re older? You don¡¯t look like a page anymore,¡± said Redven, somewhat confused about seeing Nala.


    ¡°I work for Chief Morhiem, bringing women to his chamber, first time I¡¯ve had to bring a man. But, we all knew he liked you more than others¡±


    ¡°Are you going to tease me all day?¡± said Redven, not quite in the same mood as Nala.


    ¡°Oh lighten up,¡± said Nala, ¡°maybe after Morhiem has his way with you, you¡¯ll be better company. Where are you staying?¡±


    ¡°Hmmm. I couldn¡¯t read the name, stupid writing. It¡¯s green and white, near the balancing man.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I know the place. Well here we are, I¡¯ll come visit you later. Have fun. Make sure he wets his fingers first,¡± Nala said with a smile from ear to ear, noticing that she was the only one that found her jokes funny.


    The guards that accompanied Morhiem to their last meeting stood outside his door. They both looked at Redven as they braced up, somehow making themselves more rigid than before. He gave a nod and opened the door, finding Morhiem bent over a table in the middle of the room, studying a map. He had all sorts of tools and stationary scattered around the table. Uncharacteristic of Morhiem, who is normally very organised, down to the smallest detail. He once challenged his roommate to a duel while they were training at the officers academy. His roommate was very messy, which often managed to creep onto Morhiem¡¯s side of the room. The terms were that if Morhiem could beat him in a duel with one arm, then Connor would have to find another room, but if he lost, then Morhiem would be his servant until the end of the semester, which had only just begun. An offer Connor couldn¡¯t refuse, the terms were too good and he¡¯d look like coward if he passed it up. But Morhiem doesn¡¯t play with dice, so when they met in the courtyard they were met by all of their peers. Bets on who would win started low but quickly reached large sums, many of Morhiem¡¯s friends betting his way, knowing his talent, whilst others who had the money to spare opted to bet on Connor. Morhiem made a proxy bet on himself, through his friend.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Connor was a much taller and stronger man, whose weapon of choice was often something that would destroy his target in one hit. For this particular duel, he chose a greatsword. The sword was long enough to reach Morhiem¡¯s shoulders should the handle be touching the ground. A heavy weapon, which took great strength to swing and even greater strength to control. Morhiem knew Connor could control the weapon, but that didn¡¯t matter. He knew he was faster and more agile, so he chose a rapier. A weapon of accuracy and skill, deadly in the right hands. Though it appeared to be a very unfair fight, considering rapier training did not occur at the academy, everybody thought he chose the weapon because it was light and he was too weak to wield anything heavier. But what the crowd didn¡¯t know, nor did his opponent, was that Morhiem had been trained in the rapier since he was old enough to stand. His family was wealthy and had opted to have him trained in many of the skills a high ranking officer should have well before he was old enough to join.


    Connor marched towards Morhiem, sword held aloft. He struck at Morhiem as soon as he came within range, bringing his blade down with terrifying power, smashing it into the dirt as Morhiem dodged left and stepped out of the way. He struck at Connor with a quick jab of his rapier, but Connor was prepared, pivoting to the right and lifting the handle of his blade above his head, bringing it in front of him like a shield. It took a smart warrior to turn an offensive weapon into a defensive tool, a surprise to Morhiem that Connor knew the weapon that well, but this changed nothing. Morhiem stood back, enough so that the rapier was out of reach but the great sword wasn¡¯t. Connor came to his feet and charged at Morhiem, thrusting his heavy blade towards him, almost impaling him, but Morhiem again dodged the attack and sprinted towards Connor as he followed the force of his thrust and the weight of his heavy blade. He tripped Connor into the dirt, smacking him on the back of the head with the flat of his blade.


    ¡°It is done, I expect you to have your things gone by tonight,¡± Morhiem announced, raising his arms to the cheering crowd.


    Embarrassed, Connor jumped to his feet and swung at Morhiem without consideration. Sensing the changed nature of the bout, Morhiem jumped over the low swung blade and landed to the side of Connor, stabbing his rapier into the back of his right leg, dashing to his other side and delivering the same blow to his left leg. Connor screamed in pain and swung his sword in an about turn, but Morhiem watched the obvious attack from just out of range as he stood to the front of Connor, pointing his rapier at his throat. Guards came rushing in on order of the head trainer at the academy, as did several medics. The fight was over, but Connor would never forget the embarrassment.


    ~


    Redven walked up the the table and glossed over what he saw on the map. Different figurines to denote different gang factions and militia that stir in the west. There were also several that were placed in the east, the mountains and forest were homes to some sort of cult according to the map.


    ¡°Ah, Redven, my friend. It¡¯s good to see you here unharmed. Please, take a seat. I¡¯ll be with you shortly,¡± said Morhiem, gesturing to a seat in front of his desk. A woman dressed similarly to Nala stood by Morhiem¡¯s desk, pouring water into a cup as Redven walked over. Her uniform was identical aside from a few patches that had different symbols on them.


    ¡°Fancy outfit for a cupbearer,¡± said Redven, not liking the way she stared at him. The woman gave no response, turning her gaze from him slowly as she noticed Morhiem making his way over to the desk.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been receiving alarming intelligence that indicates that many of the militia and organised bandit groups have started to head east. They are becoming sick of fighting each other and it¡¯s becoming harder for them to do so whilst fighting our army. I worry that they will regroup in the east and attack unhindered,¡± said Morhiem, his face furrowed with concern.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to call you here again Redven, but this is important and I can¡¯t say these things via letter and I¡¯d rather not tell anybody that needn¡¯t know.¡±


    Redven thought back to advice given to him by the blacksmith he apprenticed under. He told him that anything said before the word ¡®but¡¯ was often a lie or not meant by the speaker. Redven knew Morhiem cared for him, but he knew that he cared from his own agenda more.


    ¡°There have been sightings in the south and reports from the eastern gate of the Outer Ring that many unsavouries have begun to stir trouble in the area. I ask you again. Please, come and train the men to defend the innocents in the east. Are you not concerned about your friends out there, the farmers you spoke of?¡±


    ¡°They attacked me the other night. I¡¯m sorry Morhiem I can¡¯t. Besides, I¡¯d have to sell the farm and nobody has that kind of money.¡±


    ¡°The crown would buy the land from you, turn it into a garrison. All of the men you would train would be stationed there. You¡¯re family would never need money again, and still you¡¯d be paid well to teach what you know. Your son would have the best of schooling, your wife whatever she desires,¡± said Morhiem, becoming visibly frustrated at Redven¡¯s refusal.


    ¡°My friend, please, I can¡¯t do this for any amount of money,¡± insisted Redven, standing as he pleaded with Morhiem.


    ¡°Hmmm, I¡¯m sorry for wasting your time. I¡¯ll leave you to your life. When do you leave?¡±


    `¡°As soon as we are finished here.¡±


    ¡°My men will accompany you home, I won¡¯t have you attacked along the road,¡± Morhiem said, pointing at Redven as he said it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need them, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sending them east anyway, despite your lack of cooperation, I still need to defend the kingdom from these threats. They will be stationed a league or two from your farm, should they be needed,¡± Morhiem said with the seriousness of a direct order, though Redven was not one of his soldiers.


    Morhiem gestured to the hooded lady next to his desk who then went and opened the door for Redven. Taking his cue, Redven gave an awkward bow and left, neither man entirely happy with the outcome of the meeting.


    He walked back to the inn and packed his things, leaving Morhiem¡¯s security detail at the door. He wrote a small note of apology to Nala and left it with the barkeep in case she came to visit. The four heavily armoured men seemed to alarm the patrons. They tailed Redven quickly as he marched towards the stables. The guards had horses waiting ready to go, Redven¡¯s was already saddled and waiting for him. The stable boy was nowhere to be seen, the horses instead held by army personnel.


    Redven rode home quickly, hoping to make it in time for dinner. The guards kept pace for most of the journey, easing off as they reached their destined town. As Redven reached his home, there were no lights inside, despite it being well past sundown. All of the nearby homes were aglow with candlelight, but his was dark. Redven rode to the stable and slammed the gate closed, not bothering to bolt it shut. He raced to the front door to find the front window smashed in, blood still dripping from the remaining glass.

 Chapter Five

    Redven reached for the front door, fear filling his mind and heart, only to find it slippery and bloodsoaked. As he looked down to see the blood on his hands, he noticed a larger pool in which he stood, shards of some sort of rock or crystal jutting out of the moonlit puddle. Redven screamed for his family, calling their names frantically as he rammed his large body into the door, breaking it down in an explosion of splinters. The moonlight flooded the darkened home, his worst fears realised. The house was trashed, pots and pans scattered throughout the kitchen, the living room littered with their belongings and a trail of blood leading from the window to the master bedroom. Redven rushed down the hall to his room, the handle warm with blood. He opened the room to find Kairam, clutched in the bloodied arms of Azura. He fell to the ground, shaking them and calling their names in despair, tears pouring from his eyes. They didn¡¯t wake, their wounds too grievous to survive. Redven sat on the ground, holding his family tight as he rocked back and forth sobbing uncontrollably. His world had been destroyed, his insides felt as though they had disappeared and his torso was filled the void itself, a vast, cold blackness.


    Redven sat there holding the faces of his family for long enough that much of the blood on him had dried. He knew they were gone, but he hoped that soon he would wake from this terrifying dream. He decided that were it a dream or not, something needed to be done. He crawled under the bed and removed the clothed bundle from beneath the slats. He placed the bundle on the bed and revealed his blades, identical scimitars, both shone brightly in the moonlight, both ornate with golden trim and quality black leather-bound handles. His eyes still flowing tears down his face, Redven attached the blades to his belt and turned to his family. Kissing them on the forehead, he vowed to them that he would see them when his time came, and that he would avenge them, no matter the cost.


    Redven rode his horse as fast as it could go, which was a big ask considering their day¡¯s journey. But the horse ran as fast as it ever had, as if it knew the importance of speed at that moment. It wasn¡¯t long before Redven arrived at the farmhouse of Sommers, the only farmer who¡¯d apologised for attacking him. He burst down the door to find him and his family having dinner, charging towards Sommers who sat comfortably in his chair. Redven grabbed him by the throat and dragged him across the room, a difficult feat for a normal man but for a man as strong and adrenaline fueled as Redven, he barely knew he held a fully grown human if not for the screams of his family and the clawing at his hands from his prey.


    ¡°You come to my house to spy on me!¡± shouted Redven, so close into Sommers¡¯ face that he could feel the force of the words in his eyes. Sommers tried to respond but couldn¡¯t breathe, his neck being squeezed so tight he thought he¡¯d die if Redven pressed even a fraction harder. Redven released his grip, but drew a sword and placed it to his throat, Sommers coughed and wheezed trying to regain his breath and let the blood filter from his face.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­ do anything¡­¡± Sommers said, coughing and choking slightly as he tried to force out something to calm Redven down. Redven held the blade to his throat and punched him in the stomach, a terrifying event for Sommers, wishing to bend with the blow, but should he bend too far he¡¯d kill himself on Redven¡¯s blade. His wife and son stood behind Redven, screaming at him for mercy, the boy beginning to cry as he clutched to his mother¡¯s waist.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°What...happened..¡± said Sommers, sputtering the words out of his mouth as legibly as he could manage.


    ¡°They¡¯re dead and you fucking sent those fucks to kill them!¡± Redven said, his owns words fuelling his rage, convincing himself of his own assumptions.


    ¡°Who? I don¡¯t know what you are saying¡­¡± Sommers said, trying to find some sense in what was going on.


    ¡°My son and my wife are dead! You spied on me, you told those fucks I had no weapons and had left for the city, so they killed them! And now, I¡¯m going to slaughter you all!¡± screamed Redven, taking a step back and bringing his blade overhead.


    ¡°He hasn¡¯t left the house in three days, he¡¯s been ill, please no!¡± screamed the wife, searching for mercy in Redven, but she found none. His son rushed to Sommers and held him tight, crying and whining something between his heavy sobs. Redven thought of Kairam and Azura as he was about to destroy a family, as his had been. Sommers had come to him as a man and apologised for his mistakes. Perhaps he was wrong, thought Redven. He lowered his blade and pushed it back against Sommers¡¯ throat.


    ¡°Where are the others, I need answers!¡± asked Redven, intent on making sense of this and getting revenge.


    ¡°They¡¯re all neighbours to each other, Grey John¡¯s house the first after where the fair is held, a league towards the city, but they wouldn¡¯t do this, you have to believe me,¡± Sommers pleaded with Redven, ¡°they¡¯d punch you while they¡¯re drunk but they wouldn¡¯t attack your family, let alone kill them!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find out for myself!¡± said Redven, removing his blade and storming out of the house. His horse broke into a sprint as soon as he felt the back of Redven¡¯s boot clip his rear. The trip to Grey John¡¯s house felt long for Redven, the rage inside him causing his arms to shake and his hands to become sweaty, his jaw felt tight as he ground his teeth together thinking about the same things over and over. His wife and son, left in a bloody mess on the floor of his home, the way he wished to slaughter these pathetic men who would attack an innocent woman and child, the way he wished he could tear them apart, limb from torso, ripping their jaws from their heads in a brutal avulsion. When he reached the house of Grey John he dismounted and stormed the front door, finding Grey John alone in his home drinking and reading a book.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± said Grey John, falling back on his chair and spilling his drink as Redven burst through the door. Without hesitation, he buried his blade in Grey John¡¯s chest with one hand, pivoting and bringing the blade high, it burst into flames before he slammed it deep into the wooden floor behind Grey John¡¯s neck, blood spilling out in a sudden burst. Redven dislodged the blade from the wood as the flames petered out and surged to the next house. His warpath would see no breaks, his vengeance would be swift and violent.


    Hours later, six guards from the city had arrived with Sommers, finding Redven laying on the floor of the last farmer¡¯s house, drenched in blood, both swords in hand and streaks of removed blood on his face where tears had fallen but could fall no more.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry... I had to¡­ ,¡± said Sommers, fearing Redven¡¯s rage and bloodlust would strike his home again. Redven said nothing, he just stared at the roof and reminisced his favourite memories of his family, his face looked as though he was crying and the sobs made it look as though he was, but he had no more tears to cry and all he felt was emptiness and sorrow. He gave no resistance as the guards disarmed him, picked him up and arrested him. His arms were heavy and his head ached, but all of this paled in comparison to the soul crushing shame and despair that consumed him.

 Chapter Six

    The cold, dank cell went unnoticed by the shackled man. He¡¯d lost his whole world without any way to recover it. His eyes were closed, a burning sensation filling them, but he didn¡¯t care. He didn¡¯t care about anything anymore. Other prisoners in the underground dungeon would holler and scream, for freedom, food or simply to harass the guards who kept them there. But the man in the corner cell, shackled by ankle and wrist, didn¡¯t make a sound, save for the sobbing. Redven didn¡¯t remember how he got there, nor did he remember what he did. The horrible memories he did have, played endlessly on the back of his eyelids. The blood that pooled under the doorway, reflecting the moonlight and foreshadowing horror. The dishevelled family home, cold and dark, and the bedroom that held captive the now lifeless bodies of the only people he ever truly loved. He had no need to holler or fight, he had no need to sleep or even wipe the snot from his nose. All he wanted was to die. He hoped that with his death, he would meet them on the other side, wherever that may be.


    It had been three days since the slaughter in the eastern farmlands. Folk thought Redven had killed his family in a fit of rage which lead him to kill the farmers who¡¯d attacked him. Three of the guards who¡¯d been stationed nearby had taken him to the city whilst the others stayed back to question the neighbours and assess the crime scenes. Morhiem was informed that night, taking to the east to see the horror for himself, hoping to salvage Redven¡¯s belongings and family memories before anybody decided to take them for their own. He had the guards set up some temporary accommodation in the field near Redven¡¯s house.


    The man in the corner cell, lost to the darkness of despair, heard footsteps echoing down the stone dungeon in which he was held. He sat there, slumped in a heap of bones and flesh, barely a man. The footsteps stopped outside his cell, a bright fire-lit torch illuminating the image of a broken man who waited for his death.


    ¡°Oh my friend¡­ ,¡± said Morhiem, his whisper filled with worry.


    "I¡¯m doing everything I can to clear your name," Morhiem said as he gestured to the guard to open the cell. The large cast iron cage door creaked loudly as it opened, filling the dungeon with an eerie echo. A second guard walked out from behind the first and approached Redven, first undoing the shackles around his wrists, then his ankles. Still, he gave no response.


    ¡°I know you are going through the worst time right now, but you can¡¯t blame yourself,¡± Morhiem said, sounding awkward and unsure of himself, ¡°after all, you travelled home as fast as you could... ¡°


    Morhiem placed his hands on his hips and nodded at the the two guards. They picked him up, one guard under each arm, both of their faces looking very concerned by how easily he could hurt them in that position. but he made no such attempts, not even to tense his arms which would make carrying him easier. The guards took him up a long winding staircase, handing their lifeless prisoner to the next set of guards. After several baton passes, they arrived at Morhiem¡¯s war room. They took him to a room that was hidden away behind a bookcase, a room filled with several barrels stacked up, some shackles on the wall and a freshly made bed. The room looked meticulously clean for what appeared to be a storage room, despite the shackles on the wall. Surprise came to Redven when he was not taken to the shackles, but instead placed on the mattress.


    ¡°Your toilet is the pot under the bed, there is a window with a view and meals will be brought to you from the kitchen. I won¡¯t have you rotting away down there with the others,¡± Morhiem said with a tone that shifted from concerned mother to angry father. That day Redven ate what was brought to him, only moving from the bed to place the dirty bowl and cup at the door. He was only fed soup and water with some bread, and was given no utensils. The bowl and cup had to be on the floor by the door otherwise the maid wouldn¡¯t have the guards open it, though he had no intention of harming anybody or trying to escape.


    Five days after being locked up, in what Redven now knew was a torture chamber that was refurbished to house him as Morhiem¡¯s personal prisoner, he was brought new clothes and a bath which was quickly filled with buckets of hot water. The clothes looked like they were more fit for a noble than a prisoner, something one would wear to court or to a dance. Morhiem entered the room dressed similarly, adjusting the cufflinks on his ornate black overcoat, adorned with intricate gold stitched designs and shiney buttons to match. His black hair slicked back as it always was, his socks were high and his shoes shone more than Redven thought black could shine.


    "Come now, wash up and get dressed. I¡¯d have a maid help you but they are all afraid you¡¯ll eat them,¡¯"Morhiem said, trying to get a smile or some sort of response from Redven.


    "Where are we going,¡¯ asked Redven, sinking slowly into the bath as to not overflow it, ¡®to the gallows?"You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    "Hmph, the gallows! No, I¡¯d hang you in rags. We¡¯re going to see the King."


    "And what does the King want?"


    "It¡¯s not what he wants, it¡¯s what I want. I want you free and I don¡¯t want some noble who¡¯s never left the city to judge you."


    "Why not?" asked Redven, folding his socks the way Morhiem had his.


    "I want to clear your name and give you a second chance," began Morhiem, starting to pace the torture chamber as he stared at the floor, "many people think you¡¯re a monster you know."


    "I am a monster, I killed those men and their families," Redven said with an empty confidence, still not remembering all that had happened, only flashes of rage and blood amidst the looks of horror from the farmers and their wives.


    "Yes, but they wronged you first. Multiple testimonies say they attacked you prior to that night. They even salted your fields, you can¡¯t say they didn¡¯t ask for it!" Morhiem said, trying to justify the case to a prisoner who didn¡¯t want to be saved.


    The walk to see the King was one filled with Morhiem lecturing Redven on how to behave, when to speak and other formalities that he would be confronted with during the meeting. Above all else, he insisted that Redven agreed with him should he be questioned and if he couldn¡¯t bare to speak then to nod when appropriate. The guards brought them to a large wooden door before beating on it three times. A small window was cut into the door with a shutter opening behind it, a pair of brown eyes analysed the men at the door before a series of locks and bolts were shifted from behind to let them in.


    Two men in wooden slatted armour and helmets that covered most of their head, fought in the middle of the open room. Their helmets had wide eye slits that wrapped around stopping just before their ears. Weapons lined the walls but most of them were wooden, meant for training purposes. Redven did not recognise either of them by their build or fighting style, knowing that the King that he knew had since gone into retirement and sailed south in search of new lands, hoping to die on an island of women, preferably whilst bedding them.


    The men fought viciously, their styles completely different. The slim one fought with a long staff and chose to strike only whilst countering his opponent. The larger man, a good foot taller than the slim man and close to twice as wide, was relentlessly smashing away at him with what appeared to be two greatswords that he held as though they were merely daggers. A red aura pulsed from his large wooden blades as they came beating down at his sparring partner, each strike either dodged or parried by the staff that seemed to glow purple as it¡¯s wielder dealt a counter to his opponent. Redven felt like he was seeing things, still unbelieving of the reality in which he found himself.


    The giant sword-wielder continued to send a heavy barrage of blows with his oversized swords, each strike coming down as fast as the last. His opponent, parried and dodged without fail, taking small windows to smack his staff into the head of the juggernaut that opposed him. This went on for several minutes before the slender one dodged a slower strike from his opponent, slamming the staff into the side of his knee and pulling the staff back whilst in contact with the leg. The large man¡¯s knee glowed purple as his leg followed the staff, losing his balance and falling to the ground with a loud thud, sending dust billowing from underneath the floorboards. His vision clearing to find the staff pointed directly at his face.


    "Not today Brother," said the victor, removing his weapon from his opponent¡¯s face.


    "I¡¯m like a fucking book to you, aren¡¯t I?" yelled the large man, sore that he lost to his smaller opponent.


    The victor removed his helmet as he walked to the wall, revealing a bearded face that appeared quite pale compared to the black hair that covered it. His eyes appeared blue from a distance, but reflected hints of violet in the right light, something Redven ignored once more. He replaced his staff amongst a selection of others that varied in size and thickness, even the type of wood seemed to vary. A few drops of sweat sat on his brow, which Redven thought was only because of the helmet. Otherwise, the man seemed unphased by the session. His opponent left his swords on the ground, tore his helmet from his head and stormed out of the room, barging past Morhiem and company. Morhiem stepped out of the way just in time, bracing up as the man left the room. Several servants rushed to the middle of the room to retrieve the swords and helmet, replacing the swords on the wall and taking the helmet back to the corner where they began to clean it and fix some of the damage.


    ¡°Your Highness, it would appear I¡¯ve caught you at a bad time, should we¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll meet you in my chambers, Chief Commander.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Your Highness. Should we give you time to change?¡± asked Morhiem.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you when I arrive,¡± said the King, pulling the chest piece of his armour over his head, ¡°and not a moment sooner.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Morhiem, taking a deep bow as he backed out of the room, pulling Redven down with him. The door slammed shut just as their heads left the doorway, ruining Morhiem¡¯s hair.


    ¡°That was the King and his brother, the army¡¯s General and my chain of command,¡± explained Morhiem, fixing his hair against a heavily polished shield that decorated the walkway leading to the sparring room. Morhiem ordered the guards to take him to the King¡¯s chambers.

 Chapter Seven

    Chapter 7


    The bald-headed men converged on their uninvited guests. All dressed the same in a basic woolen robe that resembled the color of sodden paper and looked itchy to the touch. Their hands were hidden inside their sleeves, their eyes leered at the large, dark man at the door. Morhiem found himself outside the room, hoping to give the men space enough to leave without engaging in conversation. He could taste the venom in his mouth, a sour taste that would taint his words with a passive aggression and condescension. Neither of which would help in his plea to have Redven released from the charges brought against him.


    ¡®And what do we have here?¡¯ said one of the men, all of whom seemed nearly identical to Redven.


    ¡®A new servant? Looks a little rough to me,¡¯ said another, the men gathering closer together as they began to surround Redven. They prodded at his arms, pushing his muscles as if testing the firmness of fruit. Redven was a sight to see in a royal court, a muscular man dressed like a noble. More to the point, it was a noble that the men in grey had not met, intriguing indeed.


    ¡®The tanned hands and face might be believable if you were a fishmonger or a boat herder, but it¡¯s your fingernails and musculature that give you away. I know of no noble born that carries dirt underneath his nails, with calluses to match,¡¯ spoke a man from behind the pack, his voice significantly deeper than the others.


    ¡®You¡¯re a farmer, and based on your choice of company I¡¯d say it¡¯s likely you¡¯re the farmer that massacred the other farmers out in the east,¡¯ he continued, watching as Redven¡¯s gaze lowered slightly and turned to the door. Morhiem quickly scurried between Redven and the men in an attempt to shield them should he lash out at their remarks.


    ¡®Now now, gentlemen. Leave the questioning to his Highness, after all you are advisors not adjudicators,¡¯ said Morhiem, pointing his raised arms to the chairs in the corner of the room, hoping to clear the path for Redven and himself. His guest had remained calm for sometime, a fact Morhiem didn¡¯t want to rely on if he didn¡¯t have to. As the two of them walked into the centre of the room, the men began to encircle them from behind like pack of fasted hyenas, waiting for a moment to strike. As they moved closer to the door, they heard it being opened from the other side. The large wooden barricaded doors were slowly opened, revealing an elegant stairway to an elevated throne. The throne room itself was well lit, large stain-glass windows wrapped around the room depicting some sort of ancient battle. A man in flames flying through the sky towards a group of hooded men. Redven didn¡¯t manage to see the other scenes, thinking it might be considered rude should he be seen as distracted at his own court hearing. The King was nowhere to be seen. His brother, the General, stood in blood-red plate armour behind the throne, appearing to be moving pieces on a military planning board, much like the one in Morhiem¡¯s office, but likely much more ornate.Redven remembered back to the days when he had to plan attacks, the whittled wooden pieces of their enemies often found themselves surrounded by ornate, heavy marble pieces that represented the royal army. Several other men were present at the table, examining the plans that had been laid. A man with hair that reached his toes, black as a jet and moved like silk. His hair lay gently against his all white robe, also silk, Redven thought. He moved with a grace that seemed unnatural, his balance and strength seemed well outside the range of the nobles that occupied the Inner Ring. His style of dress also betrayed a sense of locality. Likely a foreign advisor, thought Redven.


    As the King entered the room, he spoke briefly to the men at the table, many of whom left the room immediately after they¡¯d been spoken to, except for the General and the long haired man. He moved to his throne but did not sit. Instead, he stood in front of it at the top of the stairs.


    ¡®Chief Commander Morhiem, you come to me today with a criminal who has befriended you, is this correct?¡¯ asked the King, showing little tolerance for the topic of the meeting.


    ¡®Not quite, Your Highness. This man is an old friend of mine and was once a Commander of the Amerossan Royal Army. I am here today to plead for his release and to provide evidence that he not only acted within the law but was instrumental in stopping a criminal organisation that threatened the welfare of our citizens,¡¯ said Morhiem, standing to attention as he addressed the King. Redven stood next to him, his eyes averted towards the ground, hoping not to intimidate the King. He didn¡¯t particularly care for being out of the room Morhiem kept him in nor did he wish to be released. He just hoped to help Morhiem out, as it seemed that he had nothing else to live for.


    ¡®Would the prisoner show his face?¡¯ said the King, a command phrased as a question, but this was not lost on Redven. He stood to attention as Morhiem had, bringing his chin up so that his eyes met with the King¡¯s. The King stared into Redven¡¯s eyes as he spoke.


    ¡®It is my understanding that this man, illustrious as he once was, is a tortured soul who took the blade to his own family in a fit of rage and then in a relentless bloodlust, he massacred half of the farmers in the eastern farmlands, their families included. Was there not a witness to his fury at the crime scene? Where he was arrested?¡¯ asked the King, breaking eye contact only to address his question to Morhiem. Redven¡¯s eyes widened slightly when the King said he had killed his own family, his heart beginning to race.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡®My liege, whilst the list of events you have retold is similar to the events that occurred, I believe I have found enough evidence at each of the crime scenes as well as witnesses statements which would allow for a different perspective,¡¯ said Morhiem, choosing his words carefully so as to not anger the King. The King was known to be a very shrewd man. Both calculating and quick-witted, were there ever cause for it, he¡¯d be one of few men to truly oppose Morhiem in a battle of intellect. Morhiem knew this, so he chose to play the game with the cards he has been dealt. The King could not be swindled nor would he allow for any argument that he wouldn¡¯t be happy to sail on.


    ¡®And what perspective is that?¡¯ said the King, the words left his mouth slowly as he emphasised them individually.


    ¡®It is my belief, through careful analysis of the evidence and the witness statements, that this man acted in retaliation to the brutal murder of his family for unjust reasoning. And, in the completion of his revenge he has unknowingly put a stop the raiding that had been occurring in the east for some time as the farmers he slew were housing the bandits we were after,¡¯ said Morhiem, his voice filled with conviction.


    ¡®Go on, Chief Commander, I don¡¯t have all day. Just say your piece and let me deliberate,¡¯ said the King, his impatience evident.


    ¡®Of course, Your Grace. When my men arrived at the first crime scene, later in the night, they found this man¡¯s entire farm had been covered in salt. Not likely something done in rage by a maniac. His window had been smashed in, blood stained the handle on the inside of the door. A man would have a key to his own house. The farmers that were slain that night were also involved in an attempted attack upon my friend here. They were defeated, and sought revenge on him. When they were caught salting his fields by his wife, they attempted to silence her but she fought back. This explains the odd and numerous wounds, none of which are definite killing blows but all of which accumulated into such a result,¡¯ Morhiem said, his hands were in front of him as he spoke, gesturing with open palms in an attempt to appear as sincere as possible.


    ¡®Redven, here, come home from a meeting with me here in the city. My guards escorted him most of the way. When they arrived to find him at the end of his revenge, the time barely allowed for such events to take place, let alone the salting of entire fields. This man came home to find his livelihood and his family destroyed. He sought revenge upon the men who had shown they were willing to attack his person and now had more motive in their shameful defeat. My King, this man is a master swordsman who wanted a farming life to be with his family. It was taken from him, so he took revenge against his aggressors. Should such evidence have come to court before he enacted his revenge, the ruling would have been similar and he would have inherited their lands. But I do not ask for this much,¡¯ said Morhiem, hoping to have lured the King into thinking his request was more worthy than a man inheriting the lands of the men he slew.


    ¡®And what is it that you ask, before I consider what you have said?¡¯ asked the King.


    ¡®Your Highness, I wish for this man¡¯s freedom. That is all. I will not hide my personal motives for this man¡¯s freedom. As a master of the blade, he would be a vital asset to the training regime that is necessary for the protection of the realm. If he is willing to accept my job offer, he would be put to good use in training our warriors. The warriors he trains would be sent to the garrison that is being built in the eastern farmlands, between the city and the forest. Should he decline, then he can do as he pleases with his life,¡¯ Morhiem finished, feeling good about how he presented his case, but still concerned with the King¡¯s lack of tells. Normally he can read people like a book, but the King hid his thoughts well. Perhaps well enough that he didn¡¯t fall for the openness of Morhiem¡¯s body language.


    ¡®And the prisoner¡¯s name?¡¯ asked the King


    ¡®Redven Sol, Your Grace.¡¯


    ¡®Mr. Sol, would you work as Commander Morhiem intends, or would you do otherwise?¡¯


    Redven went to answer, only to be met with a dry throat and no voice. He cleared his throat and answered loud and clear.


    ¡®I would owe the Chief Commander my life, if teaching would repay that debt then I would teach,¡¯ said Redven. This isn¡¯t what he wanted, but he had nothing left. At least this way, he could help others to save their own families. With each man he trained, he might be saving several more lives, he thought.


    ¡®Then it is my decision that under the watchful eye of Chief Commander Morhiem that you are to be released from prison as a member of my personal staff. You are will not be free of your crimes until I am certain that you are not a threat to my citizens. I will set the remainder of my terms later today. Until then, you will be found a lodging in the barracks and are not to leave until otherwise instructed. Is this understood?¡¯ said the King.


    ¡®Yes, Your Highness,¡¯ responded Redven, not sure how to feel about what just happened.


    The long haired man waited briefly in the silence before chiming in.


    ¡®Oh Morhiem, if I¡¯d known you were so moral, I¡¯d have offered you a position in my order years ago!¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t think I¡¯d like it, I¡¯m not a fan of insects. Besides, I¡¯m happy not being a pet,¡¯ retorted Morhiem, somewhat annoyed by the man¡¯s interjection.


    ¡®Oh, how very rude to say in front of yours,¡¯ said the long haired man.


    Morhiem knew he was being baited and didn¡¯t feel like taking the time to play these childish games, he smiled and turned away.