《Ashes of Sovereignty》


 Chapter 1 - Of Steel and Scars

    Leif¡¯s lungs burned as he surged forward, his sword a blur of steel. It sang true, directed at Master Vharran, but it was too predictable. Vharran¡¯s own blade met his with a crack that rang through his skull, the force jolting through his arms. With a sharp twist, Leif¡¯s sword was torn from his hands, and a blow stuck his ribs, sending him flying.


    Leif hit the ground, rolling with the impact. Plain flared in his side, but he forced himself to his knees, coughing blood onto the ground.


    ¡°Pathetic,¡± Vharran¡¯s voice was like ice. ¡°You are too slow. Again.¡±


    Clenching his teeth, Leif rose to his feet. He knew what his mistake was, and he knew the punishment that would come with it later.


    Straightening his body, he lifted his blade again. He would book no argument, make no excuse. Vharran¡¯s lessons were not words to be debated. Although he wished that they were. Leif considered it a gift from the Goddess when Vharran chose to discipline him with words, one did not like to see how he solved problems without them.


    Staring into his instructor¡¯s eyes, Leif went on the offensive. The clash of their blades sent tremors though his arms, Vharran opting to take a defensive stance so that he could test Leif¡¯s footwork. However, as the duel wore on, Vharran weaved in offensive strikes. And before long, he was launching a full-on assault, every strike unyielding.


    A feint led Leif to overcommit on his defenses, when suddenly a heavy boot crashed into his thigh, sending him back down to the hard earth that he¡¯d begun to grow acquainted with. The edge of Vharran¡¯s sword rested at Leif¡¯s neck, causing him to inhale sharply. Once more, he had failed.


    ¡°Disgraceful. You could not even land one strike, if I had been your enemy, you would be a dead man. How can you fail so much and yet learn nothing from them?¡±


    Vharran pulled his blade away, continuing to lecture his pupil.


    ¡°Do you not care for your life? Do you think just swinging this sword, again and again without direction, will make you stronger? You are weak, yes. Truly weak. But I will make you strong. Go eat and clean yourself up, report back here. We will not stop until you¡¯ve managed to land a single strike on me.¡±


    His limbs felt like lead, his breath ragged. He knew Vharran was a monster in combat, but this ¨C this was impossible. He was only 10, after all. ¡°Master,¡± he breathed, ¡°it cannot be done.¡±


    Vharran whirled around without hesitation, his target clear. Leif barely had time to raise his arm in defense before a crack rang out. Flesh tore and blood poured as agony exploded through him. He gasped, anguish escaping him as his arm hung limp at his side.


    Tears streamed from his eyes as Vharran walked over and crouched above him. He gripped Leif¡¯s hair and jerked his head up to meet his eyes.


    ¡°If you waste your breath on what cannot be done, you will never achieve what must be done,¡± Vharran snarled. ¡°You are weak because you do not believe you can be strong. Pain is your teacher, and you will listen.¡±


    Footsteps echoed in the distance and a new voice cut through the training room.


    ¡°Pain is a state of mind,¡± Eldrin said, his tone calm. ¡°And this one is close to letting it claim him.¡±


    Vharran released his grip, standing as Eldrin approached. His golden eyes flickered over Leif¡¯s wounded figure before he turned back to the Grandmaster. ¡°That¡¯s enough, Vharran. A broken arm is not conducive to effective swordplay.¡±


    Vharran¡¯s lips curled in displeasure, but he did not argue. Eldrin knelt beside Leif, offering a hand. ¡°Come. You¡¯ve endured enough for today. Let¡¯s get you mended.¡±


    Leif swallowed his pain and nodded. He gripped Eldrin¡¯s hand before standing and walking to the infirmary, cradling his broken arm.


    Leif stared out at the open plains; his allies fanned to either side of him. Orin to his right, wielded a halberd, a long staff tipped by an axe-head. If not for Leif, he would undoubtedly be the strongest warrior that the fortress had produced. Despite his ripe age of 14, he had killed tens of men in armed combat, boasting the highest kill count out of their class. To his left was Siv, a similarly brutish girl. She wielded a sword and shield, opting for a more defensive weapon due to her passive fighting style. And to her left was Bren, the most nimble of them all. If Leif was an all-rounder between speed, strength, and resilience, wielding a great sword with more control than should be reasonable, Bren might be considered a speedster. He dual-wielded two daggers and kept an array of shanks secreted about his person. He sported a lithe frame and thin chainmail, juxtaposed against the thick armor that the other three wore.


    Bren shifted on his feet, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Anyone fancy a wager? I bet I take out more of these poor bastards than any one of you.¡±


    Orin smirked. ¡°I¡¯ll take you up on that.¡±


    Siv rolled her eyes. ¡°You two and your stupid wagers.¡±


    ¡°Focus. This isn¡¯t a game,¡± Leif said.


    Bren chuckled. ¡°Then why am I having so much fun?¡±


    A signal sounded. The four warriors stopped their banter, gripped the hilts of their weapons and stared out into the plains, where a cloud of dust had erupted from nowhere. They each surveyed the battlefield, primed for combat. They had all begun to realize that something was wrong, though. They were expecting to trade blows with four other trainees, so why did everything feel so ominous? Instead, a figure emerged from the swirling dust ¨C imposing and exuding an aura of death so powerful that the air had grown heavy.


    ¡°You have got to be fucking kidding me,¡± Orin whispered under his breath, within earshot of everyone else. They mirrored his sentiment.


    He didn¡¯t need to say more, Leif knew who this was. Everyone did.


    Eldrin ¡°the Shattered¡±.


    He was a broken man. His staggered gait betrayed the injuries he suffered after taking a hit from a siege weapon in his final battle, where he subsequently tore through an entire battalion of Imperial soldiers before returning from the combat zone for treatment.


    As a Grandmaster, his Bloodline had long been awakened and refined to the highest tier. Eldrin stood before them, clad in a simple, rugged armor. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders.


    ¡°Four against one?¡± He said, amused. ¡°That seems¡­ unfair.¡±


    Bren swallowed hard. ¡°For us or for you?¡±


    Eldrin grinned.


    Then he moved.


    Leif barely saw it ¨C a blur, and then Orin was gone. His halberd was sent spinning through the air before embedding itself in the dirt yards away. A dull thud followed as Orin hit the ground, unmoving.


    Siv reacted instantly, raising her shield, but Eldrin was already there. A single palm-strike sent her flying back, when Bren lunged at the Grandmaster. Eldrin twisted, sidestepping the attack before driving his elbow into Bren¡¯s ribs. He staggered back before recovering and then moved back in to attack. Leif had no time to think, only react. He swung his greatsword in a sweeping arc, aiming for Eldrin¡¯s exposed side. He had expected a dodge, maybe a block, but the Grandmaster was unarmed so he discounted the possibility. Instead, Eldrin caught the blade.


    Leif¡¯s eyes widened.


    Before he could wrench it free, Eldrin slammed his hand into his chest, sending him tumbling backwards. In the same motion, he swept low and kicked the charging Bren¡¯s feet out from under him. He had disarmed their entire party in mere moments. Without even using his Bloodline.


    Eldrin watched with a bored expression; arms crossed. ¡°If that is all you have, I daresay we failed to teach you anything.¡±


    Leif barely had time to process what was said before Orin roared, recovering first. He charged at Eldrin with his halberd, which he had recovered partway through his dash towards the Grandmaster. Upon arrival, he launched a downward strike aimed at Eldrin¡¯s skull.


    Eldrin casually sidestepped the strike as Orin¡¯s halberd buried itself into the dirt, splitting the ground apart. Suddenly, Eldrin was behind him, striking out and sending Orin careening forward.


    Bren saw his moment; he lunged from the side aiming at Eldrin¡¯s ribs. His blades struck true, only to halt against what felt like steel.


    A grin flickered across Eldrin¡¯s face as a surge of energy crackled over his body, and lightning erupted outward. Bren¡¯s eyes shot wide before he was sent flying, his body rolling like a ragdoll before he crashed into the base of a tree. Smoke rose from his seared armor.


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    Siv didn¡¯t hesitate. After Bren had gone down, she too thrust forward. She fainted high, before twisting low, aiming at Eldrin¡¯s legs in an attempt to crumple his foundation.


    Eldrin cleanly jumped her sweeping strike, dashing towards her and moving within her guard. He firmly gripped her collar and put his face beside hers.


    ¡°Predictable,¡± he muttered.


    With a single, effortless motion, he spun around and hurled her overhead, slamming her into the dirt. She was left gasping for breath, stunned.


    That left Leif.


    He was already moving before the slam had completed, hoping to use the temporary distraction to close the distance and find an opening. Once more, he struck at Eldrin¡¯s exposed flank, but it was caught by a vambrace.


    Despite putting his entire weight behind the attack, the metal held. A deafening boom rang out, and arcs of electricity ran up Leif¡¯s sword and into his arms. His muscles seized, and his legs buckled as his world turned white with pain. He couldn¡¯t breathe, and he fell to his knees as smoke rose from his body.


    Eldrin stood over him, unimpressed. ¡°Is this all you have to offer?¡± he asked. ¡°Where is your defiance? Your fire?¡±


    Leif gritted his teeth, when a sudden shift in the air made Eldrin pause. Bren had vanished. He was no longer lying against the trunk of the tree. His presence was gone, no sound, no movement. Then, from the shadows, he struck once more, his daggers aimed at the Grandmaster¡¯s throat. Eldrin moved to block with his forearms in the same manner he had blocked Leif¡¯s strike, but Orin was also moving. His halberd swung in tandem with the daggers.


    The assault forced Eldrin to dodge, and his body twisted to avoid both attacks. It seemed as though he had escaped, but caught in his motion, Siv slammed into his back, wrapping her arms around his torso in an iron grip.


    Leif stood up, pain searing through every fiber of his being, as he lunged forward with everything he had left. It was a perfect blow. Or it should have been. For a moment, all was still.


    ¡°Better,¡± Eldrin sighed.


    Lightning exploded outward, a shockwave sent all four warriors flying, skidding across the ground.


    Through his ringing ears, Leif heard footsteps. Slow, but steady. Unshaken.


    Eldrin loomed over them all. ¡°That,¡± he said, ¡°was the first proper attack you have landed. And it will be the last, unless you continue to learn.¡±


    He turned to walk away. ¡°Your trial is over.¡±


    And with that, he was gone. The young man welcomed the cold embrace of darkness as unconsciousness took him.


    Leif stood silently within the atrium of Blackthorn Keep as the three Grandmasters stared him down. Leif¡¯s peers surrounded the dais as he did, with tension in the air palpable. Today was the Day of the Rite of Embers. Everyone stood in silence as Althea lectured on the Rite of Embers, and of course, Bloodlines. Althea was a slender, beautiful woman that gave off an air of superiority.


    All the onlookers were captivated by both her and the content of her message, especially some of the weaker students of the fortress. They probably hoped that they could supplement their lacking combat strength with a strong Bloodline.


    Leif looked around, making eye contact with some of the other uninterested students. After all, if you¡¯d paid attention during the lessons you¡¯d already know everything that was being said.


    ¡° ¨C your Bloodline will shape and define the warrior that you become. Not a single one of you knows what may manifest here today. After all, you have had no guidance from blood or kin. None of you know what blood flows through your veins because you were cast aside at birth ¨C abandoned by those who didn¡¯t want you or sent here as an infant to be forged into a warrior.


    What matters is what awakens within you today. Until now, you have trained relentlessly, honing the skills we have imparted to you. But once your Bloodline manifests, your path will truly begin to take shape. We will refine your training, sharpen your strengths. You think that your journey has been difficult? It has only just begun. Now, stand tall, and prepare for the Rite of Embers.¡±


    At the end of her sentence, she slammed down the scepter that she¡¯d been holding, and a loud thud echoed through the room.


    As practiced, everyone surrounding the dais unsheathed the sacrificial blade that had been given to them before the ceremony, and held their non-dominant hand above the dais, perpendicular to the ground.


    Vharran stepped forward, speaking up. ¡°This is not simply a ceremony¡­ The Rite of Embers is a covenant. If you are ready, we will proceed.¡±


    No one spoke up.


    ¡°Steel bites flesh, and the ember of your ancestry ignites,¡± Vharran continued.


    The gathered warriors pressed the edges of their sacrificial blades against their palms.


    ¡°Those who are worthy, will awaken.¡±


    With a slice, the initiates drug their blades across their palms.


    ¡°Those who are not¡­ will remain as they are, standing in the shadows of those who rise above.¡±


    Blood spilled onto the dais, absorbing into the ancient stone.


    Everyone stood still with bated breath, not knowing what to expect. Leif stood in awe as the blood spilled from everyone¡¯s palms and began pooling within the carved symbols of the stone.


    1 second passed. 5 seconds passed. 10 seconds. No one dared to move. No one felt compelled to be the first to question how long it would take for them to feel something, when suddenly, one by one, their bodies stiffened. Leif felt an overwhelming power surge within, and he noticed those around him feeling similarly. This was it; he had a Bloodline. Some of the trainees noticed that they were not being filled by the same power that the others were. Disappointment clouded their faces as they watched the others grit their teeth in acceptance of their newfound power.


    Leif felt somewhat bad for them, but what could he do? He was blessed; he had a Bloodline. He knew it. As the feeling ebbed, he noticed a fierce contrast between the moods of those that had awakened and those that hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°Now.¡± Eldrin also stepped forward. His voice had grown rough over the years. Every time he spoke it sounded almost like he was accomplishing a feat of strength. ¡°We have ensured that everyone within this room is of age. If your Bloodline did not come to you, let it be known that there is no mistake. We have done all that we can for you, and you may now leave.¡± Eldrin paused at the crushed looks on the faces of his pupils.


    ¡°But Master,¡± someone spoke up. ¡°What is there for us? This fortress is all that we¡¯ve known. And now you just cast us out like dogs?¡±


    ¡°No, not like dogs. Each and every one of you has been trained to be an elite warrior. There is a place for each of you in the King¡¯s army. You will rise through the ranks at breakneck pace because of your combat talent,¡± replied Eldrin. ¡°In the context of your peers, some of you may feel inadequate, but do not question your teacher. You are capable.¡±


    While the answer seemed to dissatisfy him, the young warrior neglected to speak again.


    Leif looked on as Eldrin prepared to speak once more. He was trying to focus on what his Master was saying, but knowledge of his Bloodline was filling his mind and the shuffle of feet as his former peers left made it difficult to focus.


    ¡°For those that will remain,¡± Eldrin started, ¡°you will learn the truth of what is within you.¡±


    Leif stood slightly taller and squared his shoulders. The others ¨C the ones who had felt nothing ¨C walked in silence toward the exit. The doors shut behind them, leaving eight trainees who had been blessed by the Rite.


    A woman robed in crimson stepped out from behind the shadows at the front of the room. She held a leather-bound tome covered in runes that pulsed faintly.


    ¡°Approach,¡± she commanded. ¡°One by one.¡±


    Leif made to move, but someone had already stepped forward. The old woman placed a hand on his forehead and closed her eyes. The runes on the tome glowed as she muttered under her breath.


    ¡°Infernal. You will gain mastery over flames. Your power is destructive so wield it with care.¡±


    The boy¡¯s face remained rigid. He stepped back, but Leif noticed that the boy was barely able to contain his pride.


    Bren stepped forward.


    ¡°Stormborn. Lightning will dance across your body and your speed will be like a tempest.¡±


    More names followed. Leviathan. Terrabane. Orin¡¯s Bloodline was Titanblooded, granting him enhanced strength, tougher skin and resilience, improved stamina, and the ability to gain bursts of strength as he sustains damage.


    Dreadmarrow. Paleking. Siv stepped forward, and the woman¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°A Primus¡±


    Siv looked up, her eyes bright. These were exceedingly rare.


    ¡°Monolithic Titan. You possess the qualities of both the Titanblooded, and the Terrabane. Hold you head high and be proud, your heritage has guaranteed you immense power.¡±


    Siv beamed as she stood up. Leif noticed jealousy flash across some of the other trainee¡¯s faces, but only for a moment.


    It was finally his turn. His fingers twitched in anticipation. He slowly ascended the steps to the old woman. He kneeled before her when she laid her hand on his forehead as she had with the others.


    Vharran stood to the side with his hands clasped in front of him. The ritual was predictable ¨C students stepped forward, the woman claimed their birthright, and they stepped down. He had seen it countless times before.


    And then Siv stepped forward. Ah, a Primus, he thought.


    Now that was something that was worth his attention. Rarer still, she possessed the Monolithic Titan Bloodline. He himself was a Titanblooded, so he began weighing the implications of training her when Leif finally approached.


    Vharran had noted him before. He was an odd one, he had a very no-nonsense personality, something that he quite frankly respected. He was also the one that withstood their intense sparring sessions the best.


    Despite his brutal teaching method, Leif quickly learned to withstand the taunts and torment that Vharran seemed to love to inflict.


    The old woman placed her hand on his forehead, and her tome reacted at once. Instead of lighting the requisite rune that coincided with the present Bloodline, there was nothing. No light. The book only rumbled, as if yearning to burst open.


    Vharran leaned forward.


    The old woman hesitated, before stowing the book away. She withdrew a second tome, this one a dark obsidian instead of the soft brown leather that bound the other one. That, more than anything, piqued his interest. He had seen this tome once before. And its implication was significant.


    She opened the obsidian tome. A single rune burned into the page. When she finally spoke, her voice was uncertain.


    ¡°Hollow Crown.¡±


    Vharran¡¯s fingers tapped against the arm of his char. He had never heard this name before. His gaze narrowed as he observed Leif closely. The boy did not react with fear or confusion. No. Simply acceptance.


    He rose, and the room still silent.


    ¡°Then let us see what he can do,¡± Vharran muttered under his breath.

 Chapter 2 - New Beginnings

    Leif exhaled slowly as he gripped the hilt of his greatsword. Across from him, Grandmaster Vharran rolled his shoulders. His Titanblooded heritage was clear in his movements, his skin bulging and gleaming which hinted at its unnatural resistance.  Grandmaster Althea was beside him with her daggers resting in her hands. She was poised to attack but did not move. Her Paleking Bloodline amplified her presence making the atmosphere unnerving.


    Vharran moved first.


    He swept his greatsword sideways. Leif twisted to the side to dodge the impact before stepping forward immediately after the blade passed him. He retaliated with his own swing, but Vharran had brought his blade around and caught his. However, his stance faltered, and his eyes flickered as Leif grinned.


    The Hollow Crown allowed him to imbue his strikes with stored kinetic force, making him an offensive powerhouse.


    Leif sent kinetic force rippling through his strike, the detonation erupted at the clash point and sent Vharran staggering backwards. Leif went to press his advantage, but Althea was already in motion.


    She was a blur. Her daggers flashed, he barely managed to catch one, but the second caught his shoulder. He swung at her but she danced back.


    Vharran had rebounded and launched back into the fray, the three engaged in a deadly dance as the two Grandmasters pushed into Leif but were quickly repelled by the kinetic forces imbued within each strike.


    Leif was reveling in the battle, he loved it here. As he weaved between the strikes of his foes, balancing offense and defense, his appreciation for his Primus Bloodline strengthened.


    When he first discovered what Hollow Crown was capable of, he was disappointed. It failed to compete in destructive magnitude versus some of the other Bloodlines like Infernal or Stormborn. That was until he realized his true power. Kinetic forces did not need to be detonated at the tip of a particular apparatus. They could be detonated at a designated location, infusing his target with kinetic energy instead of his sword would allow him to ravage them internally.


    Upon this discovery, he learned that he was a direct counter to those that specialized in strong external defenses. Furthermore, as far as he or his Masters were aware, there was no stopping his Bloodline. Artificers were capable of infusing armor with Flame or Lightning resistance, nullifying the main offenses of those previously mentioned Bloodlines. But Leif? He cared little for powerful armors or enchantments. He would bypass all of them and detonate his foes from within.


    He ducked a slash from Vharran, slamming his foot into the ground and discharging a force that sent him hurtling forward like a cannonball. Vharran had little time to react as Leif slammed straight into his torso with an elbow, detonating another kinetic blast that sent the Grandmaster skidding backwards. Deep trenches dug into the earth where he had slid backwards but managed to maintain upright.


    Althea had followed his sudden burst and was upon him. She rightfully recognized that he could not heft his sword around in time to block her offense, but she incorrectly recognized that he did not need it. He spun around and drug his foot up from the earth, connecting a powerful spinning back kick with her ribs as he detonated another kinetic blast. The shockwave sent her hurtling, but she spun midair to land on both feet.


    Vharran grunted, shaking out his arms and lowering his sword. ¡°Dammit kid, you¡¯ve come far.¡±


    ¡°It helps that I¡¯m a direct counter to the both of you.¡± It was true. There was a reason that he was sparring both Vharran and Althea, and not a combination that included Eldrin. Vharran¡¯s Bloodline was practically worthless before Hollow Crown, and Althea¡¯s subjugation aura had little effect on him because of his willpower.


    He did not suffer the same painful sessions that he did in his youth, partly because he suspected that Vharran no longer felt he was capable of overpowering Leif. Furthermore, Leif felt that no single person in the fort was capable of overpowering him alone.


    He squared his shoulders and glanced between Vharran and Althea, taking note of the cracked stone and deep cuts in the ground from their battle.


    Althea flicked her daggers and twirled them before sliding them into the sheaths on her thighs. ¡°That¡¯s enough for now,¡± she said.


    Vharran also relaxed his posture and planted his greatsword into the ground. ¡°I agree. We will resume at a later date.¡±


    Without response, Leif lowered his weapon and wiped the sweat from his brow. He may have had the upper hand, but that did not mean it came easy.


    He sheathed his blade and began to walk toward the mess hall at the keep. His armor made light clinking sounds as he opted to eat before disarming. His fur tunic swayed as he walked, and his boots thudded against the stone path that led back. He passed several training yards that were clearing, initiates breaking for food as well.


    As he neared the hall, a familiar voice called out. ¡°Leif! Oy! Making the Grandmasters look like fools now, are we?¡±


    Leif turned to see Bren who had grown to become his closest friend and a constant source of mirth amid the grueling life at the fort. His arms were crossed over his chest with one boot propped up behind him.


    He was the type that never took anything too seriously. Of course, that¡¯s what everyone though. But Leif knew better ¨C Bren was no slouch.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say fools,¡± Leif responded. ¡°Just... humbled.¡±


    Bren snorted. ¡°Humbled, huh? You sure Vharran¡¯s gonna see it that way? Pretty sure the last time someone made him stagger that hard they had to drag them out of the yard in pieces.¡±


    Leif chuckled. ¡°Vharran knows better than to try me. I can always hit harder.¡±


    Bren grinned. ¡°Gods listen to this cocky bastard. Not too long ago didn¡¯t even think your Bloodline was worth a damn. Now you toss around the Grandmasters like training dummies.¡± He pushed off the column and fell into step beside Leif. ¡°It¡¯s almost inspiring. If I gave a damn to be inspired.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I wouldn¡¯t get too comfortable. I¡¯m sure Vharran¡¯s already thinking up a way to make me regret today.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s future Leif¡¯s problem. Right now, there are more pressing matters ¨C like eating.¡± Bren jerked his chin towards the tantalizing aroma of food. ¡°Come on, I heard there¡¯s venison today.¡±


    The two continued toward the mess hall, when a loud horn sounded.


    Leif and Bren froze.


    And all at once the keep erupted into motion.


    They barely had time to exchange glances before warriors poured from every hall and chamber to arm themselves. The air was electric, excitement and foreboding charged through the atmosphere with equal vigor.


    Leif and Bren had just finished their sparring matches and were already armed, so instead of rushing to the barracks they began to make their way towards the southern gate of the fort. Bren¡¯s confident smirk was gone, and Leif¡¯s lips were pursed as they began to focus on the matter at hand.


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    We¡¯re being attacked. Leif thought. How could this happen? In his twenty-one years of life, he had never left the fort. It was never necessary, anything that he needed was to be provided to him. And he would not leave until he had graduated and was formally inducted into the elite guard of the Warrior-King. Yet, he knew geographically that Blackthorn Keep was located within only 2 days travel of the capital city of Othengard. Logic convinced him that an attack should be impossible without a runner giving the fort fair warning.


    As he made his way toward the gate with Bren, loose ranks had already begun to form amongst the trainees and soldiers there. The Grandmasters stood at the front of the crowd, facing the closed gate. Their expressions were grim.


    ¡°Open the gate!¡± Vharran shouted.


    Several warriors strode forward to unbar the gate. The doors were slowly pulled open with a groan.


    The sight beyond, was petrifying. A lone figure atop a warhorse, clad in dark steel and royal embroidery. A dark brown cloak was draped over his shoulder, and a crown adorned his brow. He was a young man with short, blonde hair, he couldn¡¯t have been older than Leif. Yet he carried himself with the confidence of a seasoned veteran.


    Behind him was the true terror. An infinite cascade of banners, weapons, shields and armor. Soldiers. Thousands of them. Their formation stretched beyond what Leif could see, and he accepted immediately that this was not a force the people gathered here could hope to survive.


    Bren let out a breath beside him. ¡°For all things holy¡­¡±


    The young man at the front of the battalion spoke.


    ¡°Greetings, warriors. I am King Aldric Veylan of Othengard.¡±


    His announcement sent a ripple through everyone gathered. Othengard had a king. The Warrior-King, and it was not this man. The man before them was claiming blasphemy.


    ¡°I come bearing the truth ¨C Othengard has fallen.¡±


    Othengard? Fallen? Impossible. Leif thought. Vharran stepped forward, echoing his thoughts.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± he growled. ¡°There is no nation capable of conquering Othengard besides the Empire ¨C and they are on the other side of the continent.¡±


    Althea and Eldrin stood behind him. Their eyes scanned Aldric and the battalion he led, calculating.


    Aldric looked amused at Vharran¡¯s disbelief. There was a certain smugness about his grin that really pissed Leif off.


    ¡°You are correct.¡± Aldric said. ¡°One nation alone could not shatter Othengard. But it was not only one. Those you conquered, the people you crushed beneath your boots, the voices you silenced¡­¡±


    He paused to let his words sink in. Othengard was a militaristic nation. Their infrastructure was weak, and they struggled to nurture a self-sustaining economy. To supplement their poor performance in these areas they would subjugate nearby fiefdoms and demand tributes.


    ¡°They endured. And when the time came, they reached out. To Elyndor, who saw your kind as a threat. To Valcia, who deemed your existence as an abomination. They wanted nothing more to break free of the chains you clad them in. Who were we to turn them away?¡±


    Vharran balled his fists as he moved to speak.


    ¡°So you would have us believe that a some fractured vassal states, a kingdom, and a theocracy too weak to wage its own wars brought Othengard to its knees?¡±


    Aldric chuckled. ¡°Your disbelief is natural. The Warrior-King did not fear them either. He thought them beneath him, just as you do now.¡± His fingers traced the pommel of the sword at his hip. ¡°But arrogance has a price. And Othengard has paid it in full.¡±


    ¡°And what of the capital?¡± Eldrin spoke up from behind Vharran.


    Aldric tilted his head. ¡°Burned. Razed to the ground. The Warrior-King fell in battle too.¡± He smirked again. ¡°Bravely, of course.¡±


    Outrage spread through the ranks of everyone assembled.


    The Warrior-King is dead?


    It sounded preposterous, but the man with an army at their doorstep said it was so. To be candid, every train of thought that Leif had conceived led to this outcome.


    ¡°Leif.¡±


    He turned, startled. Althea was right beside him. She had slipped through the crowd while he was in thought and now grabbed his arm.


    ¡°You must go. You must survive this. We need someone strong enough to keep hope alive.¡±


    He cast a quick glance at her. ¡°You know I¡¯m not in the habit of running.¡±


    Althea¡¯s tone sharpened. ¡°You¡¯re also not in the habit of throwing your life away. You know as well as I do that this is a fool¡¯s errand. If what Aldric says is true, Othengard is gone, or near enough. Even if it isn¡¯t true, that doesn¡¯t change the fact that this keep stands no chance against that army. If we lose you here, we lose someone that can reunite what remains.¡±


    Leif took in what she said. ¡°You know I¡¯m no leader.¡±


    ¡°But you can be,¡± she responded, as if expecting him to say that. ¡°You have proven yourself. Do not doubt what you are capable of.¡±


    Bren cut in from behind, having noticed Althea and inching closer to listen in on their conversation. ¡°Leif, she¡¯s right.¡±


    Leif turned his head to lock eyes with his friend. He did not expect Bren to agree with her.


    ¡°You¡¯re the best we¡¯ve got, and that means you cannot die here. If Othengard is going to live on, it¡¯s going to be through you. If we lose you here, we lose more than a single warrior ¨C we lose a bastion who can reunite what¡¯s left.¡±


    Frustration crossed Leif¡¯s mind ¨C he detested fleeing. But when he removed his emotions and judged the situation for what it was¡­ they were not wrong. He did not know that he agreed he could reunite a Kingdom when he¡¯d never even left the fort. He did know that he would die here if he chose to fight. That did not scare him, but Althea and Bren seemed to believe he was capable of doing much more. He would not deny them.


    ¡°Tell me the route.¡± His tone was clipped.


    Althea lowered her voice even more. ¡°Make for the northern end of the keep. There¡¯s a hidden passageway behind the old armory. It was sealed up years ago, but the stone hatch can still be opened if you pry. Follow that tunnel all the way to the exit near the ravine. Once you¡¯re keep, keep to the tree line at the base of the cliffs; you¡¯ll encounter a river that flows into the Kingdom of Valcia. They may have scouts, but it¡¯s still the safest way out.¡±


    Leif recounted what she told him in her head. He knew the way, it wasn¡¯t a complicated route, but something did bother him.


    ¡°Kingdom of Valcia?¡± Leif echoed. ¡°Did Aldric not say that Valcia joined the alleged coalition that is attacking Othengard?¡±


    Althea nodded gravely. ¡°Yes. But their domain is vast, and not every corner of Valcia is patrolled or under strict control. You can slip through the outer territories unseen.¡±


    Leif looked up once more to see Vharran growing increasingly aggressive with Aldric, who appeared to continue egging him on.


    ¡°Seems like I don¡¯t have many alternatives.¡±


    Althea¡¯s grip on his arm tightened for a moment so that he could sense her urgency. ¡°You don¡¯t. Go. Keep safe. And remember your roots.¡±


    Bren spoke up, a goofy grin on his face that did not suit the situation. ¡°Don¡¯t worry mate, we¡¯ve got this. I¡¯m gonna shove my dagger so far up this egotistic fuck¡¯s ass that he¡¯ll be begging for forgiveness for all the things he said.¡±


    ¡°Gods Bren, your mouth is going to really screw you one day.¡± Leif replied, shaking his head.


    ¡°Not today though,¡± he said back. ¡°Now get out of here, you¡¯ll have a small window to reach the northern end before Vharran pushes this guy over the edge.¡±


    At that, Leif wasted no time. He exchanged brief eye contact with both of them before nodding and slipping away. He could still hear Vharran shouting at Aldric from several tens of meters away, and it truly was awe inspiring that in the face of that army he was able to remain so ostentatious.


    He darted behind a broken column, keeping his head low. Made his way through a training yard, and kept sprinting until he found a dilapidated doorway that led to the northern wing of the old armory. In the distance, he heard Vharran¡¯s rage climbing to a fever pitch. Aldric¡¯s voice carried too, all royal pretenses vanished. He was taunting, mocking ¨C fanning the flames of conflict. He sprinted into the doorway and through a corridor that was lined with tapestries showing scenes of Othengard¡¯s legendary conquests. Leif paused and ran his hand over the stones until he felt the faint shift of a loose block. He unsheathed his greatsword and jammed it into the crack, prying it open. The wall groaned, revealing an opening that led deep into the darkness. Stale, cool air spilled out to meet him.


    Leif slipped inside, pulling the hidden door shut behind him. He was plunged into total darkness. He relied on his sense of touch to navigate the narrow corridor. The tunnel went straight before turning into a downward spiral. He pressed on, picking up his pace. He was hidden from direct pursuit, so he thought, but he could not discount the possibility that someone noticed him slip away and went to follow him or alert scouts.


    Finally, a pale light appeared in the distance. He once more started moving a little fast, before he reached a stone door with a rusted latch. He slid it back with minimal effort and pushed the door open. Leif stepped through, examining the terrain, and pausing to listen. He breathed in and out slowly and perked his ears, he did not know what would become of his comrades. But he would not let their sacrifice be in vain.

 Chapter 3 - Those in Need

    After leaving the fort, Leif trekked through the forest for several hours, looking for a place to sleep. Night had fallen and the air was cool. For the first time, he walked with no orders to follow and no one to serve. He made to follow Althea¡¯s direction, trailing the tree line until he heard the soft rush of a river. The forest was unfamiliar, it kept his senses sharp, so he picked up on the subtle flow of water immediately.


    After several minutes, he finally spotted the first goal of his travels. His fatigue had been mounting, and he knew that this was the perfect place to get some rest. In the morning, he would make his way down the river and into the Kingdom of Valcia.


    When Leif was being candid with himself, he truly did not know what to do. Althea and Bren believed that he could reunite the remnants of Othengard. But was that something he was capable of? He didn¡¯t even know where to begin. Once he made it to the kingdom, he would need to flesh out an entirely new identity in an attempt to disguise his ties with his homeland.


    Would feign as a merchant? A farmer? A sellsword?


    He was only good at one thing. Killing people. Was he good at it? Incredible. Was that helpful in his current scenario? Not really.


    Deep in thought, his eyes scanned the terrain until he spotted an outcrop of boulders nestled against a steep hill. It would do.


    He cleared the ground beneath an overhand, gathering some leaves to use as a pad for his head. He unslung his greatsword and laid down, still in his plate armor. He considered propping his sword against a nearby boulder but cradled it in his arms. The night was full of mystery, and he would be damned if he had to face it without sword in hand.


    Minutes passed, and Leif slipped into a reluctant sleep.


    When he woke, dawn had barely begun to break. He stretched to ease the stiffness in his joints and immediately thought of food. He was prepared to go without for one day, or even two. However, he did not know how long he would need to travel the river before making it into Valcia. If the trip was any longer than that, he would need to find a way to get food.


    Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately enough, food would become the least of his problems within a few short hours.


    Opting to move now and think later, Leif rose to his feet and set off down the river. He was moving as silently as his armor would allow, when he thought that he heard faint shouts in the distance.


    He immediately dropped to one knee and turned toward the source of the distant shouts. He wasn¡¯t sure at first, but after several passing seconds, he was positive.


    There¡¯s a fight up ahead.


    He thought of ignoring it and continuing his path but thought better of it. Not because of some altruistic goal, but because where there were people, there was probably food, supplies and information. All things that he needed. The consideration that it was Valcian scouts also crossed his mind, but the sound of combat led him to disregard that possibility.


    Leif slipped through the trees as he approached a clearing, where armored soldiers were locked in combat with¡­ bandits? He thought.


    Bandits, mercenaries. He couldn¡¯t tell, but there were clearly two sides here and what he assumed were bandits were being defeated quite handily.


    They didn¡¯t possess the firepower to pierce the armor and chainmail of the soldiers, and they themselves didn¡¯t have the same defensive capabilities. They were being repelled rapidly.


    Leif suspected that the things would be over soon, and he wouldn¡¯t need to get involved. Of course, he considered that he might still need to interact with these people to get some help, but he didn¡¯t know how kindly they would take to a disheveled looking warrior after present events.


    The battle was all but decided, and some of the disheveled bandits had already begun to flee. Except for one. His eyes dated through the chaos, calculating, and then he moved.


    Leif¡¯s gaze followed him as he weaved through the bodies, keeping his profile low. He was looking for something. But what?


    He noticed several knights surrounding a girl at the back of the clearing, and a realization came to him.


    Moving fast, the bandit skirted around the edge of the battlefield, slipping past the last of the fighting men. The moment her guards turned to check on the rest of the battle, he lunged.


    The woman let out a sharp yelp as she was seized from behind, a knife pressed firmly against her throat.


    ¡°Not another damn step!¡± he barked.


    Leif¡¯s eyes narrowed from behind the cover of the trees.


    The, whom he presumed to be a noblewoman, didn¡¯t scream or struggle, just held still and balled her hands into a fist. Her expression was one of frustration, with a tinge of fear.


    The soldiers whirled around and snapped their weapons toward the bandit, but none of them dared move.


    ¡°I said don¡¯t move!¡±


    His grip tightened on the girl as he pulled her closer, his eyes darting between the knights that encircled home. He reeked of desperation.


    ¡°Drop your weapons! Now! Or I¡¯ll slit her throat where she stands!¡± he snarled, pressing the blade into her neck enough to draw blood.


    The knights tensed, but did not move. The woman was clearly of import ¨C whether she was a noble or someone of similar standing was unclear, but her life was worth more than the bandit¡¯s.


    One of the soldiers, presumably the captain judging by the expensive-looking armor, took a single step forward. ¡°You¡¯re surrounded and outnumbered. Let her go and you can leave here with your life.¡±


    ¡°Mercy? That¡¯s rich.¡± His eyes flicked towards the bodies strewn across the clearing then back to the night. ¡°No. No, I know how this ends. You drop your weapons, or she dies with me.¡±


    The noblewoman scoffed, voice dripping with disdain. ¡°You¡¯re an idiot.¡±


    ¡°Shut your mouth,¡± the bandit spat back. ¡°You think you¡¯re untouchable? Maybe your father should¡¯ve sent more knights to protect you.¡±


    Leif¡¯s fingers gravitated toward his greatsword, slowly flexing around the pommel. The fool was too focused on bargaining with the knights to notice him moving. He stepped carefully, deciding that he would interfere, but keeping his approach silent.


    The captain¡¯s voice remained steady. ¡°Think carefully about this, if you kill her there is no outcome where you survive this.¡±


    Leif kept moving, faster.


    The captain continued. ¡°There¡¯s no escape for you. You¡¯ve lost. But if you let her go, you may yet see another ¨C¡°


    Leif struck.


    In one swift motion, he lunged from the cover of the trees, wrapping his right arm around the bandit¡¯s neck, yanking him back with brutal force. With his left, he gripped the man¡¯s knife-hand and jerked it away from the noblewoman¡¯s throat.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    The moment the blade left her skin, she dived forward. With no immediate threat to anyone¡¯s life, Leif ripped the knife from man¡¯s hands and rammed the pommel into the side of the man¡¯s skull.


    His body went limp instantly and collapsed to a heap at Leif¡¯s feet.


    Leif looked up, and analyzed the party in front of him. Or he went to. Now their blades were pointed at him.


    Fan-fucking-tastic, he thought.


    Raising his hands in surrender, he hoped that approaching the situation peacefully would lead towards the best outcome.


    ¡°You, state your name and purpose.¡±


    Leif was about to answer the man, but was interrupted by a soft, feminine voice.


    ¡°Sir Bertrand, is this any way to treat the man that just saved my life.¡±


    Ah, so he is the captain. Sir was a title given to combatants who were in service to nobles in the Kingdom of Valcia. Although, that was also interesting. What was a captain doing this close to Othengard territory?


    ¡°My lady,¡± Bertrand said carefully, still keeping an eye on Leif, ¡°we cannot be certain of this man¡¯s intentions.¡±


    ¡°His intention was clear enough to me. He saw an opportunity to strike and took it. A rather fortunate one for me, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    Bertrand clenched his jaw but didn¡¯t argue.


    She turned to face Leif. ¡°Now tell me ¨C who are you?¡±


    He hesitated. His name alone wouldn¡¯t mean much to them, he was a nobody, but his origins might. If his assumptions were right, and they truly were a noble Valcian party, the last thing he wanted was to be recognized as a native of Othengard. He¡¯d be left with no choice but to kill them all.


    ¡°Leif,¡± he said simply. ¡°Just a traveler, passing through.¡±


    ¡°A traveler in full plate armor, wielding a greatsword, sneaking through a battlefield?¡± Bertrand¡¯s tone was skeptical.


    Leif shrugged. ¡°Strange times.¡±


    The noblewoman¡¯s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. She turned to Bertrand. ¡°Lower your guard. If he meant harm to us, he would have. And if he¡¯s lying, we¡¯ll deal with it accordingly.¡±


    Bertrand did not look pleased but he nodded.


    The lady smoothed the fabric of her cloak before stepping forward. ¡°I suppose introductions are in order. I am Lady Arin Ren¡¯Dal.¡±


    Ren¡¯Dal. So she¡¯s from one of Valcia¡¯s great merchant noble families.


    Arin scrutinized him, waiting to see if her name sparked any reaction. When he didn¡¯t flinch, she smiled faintly.


    Sir Bertrand cleared his throat and spoke up. ¡°My lady, we¡¯ve wasted enough time. We should keep moving before more of these lowlifes show up.¡±


    Arin nodded but didn¡¯t break eye contact with Leif. ¡°And what about him?¡±


    Bertrand scowled. ¡°We don¡¯t know who he is, where he¡¯s from, or what he wants.¡±


    Leif spoke up. ¡°I¡¯d say my actions spoke for themselves.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Bertrand responded.


    Arin composed herself as Bertrand appeared to grow more antagonistic. ¡°You haven¡¯t answered my question, Leif. Where are you headed?¡±


    He thought to himself, then answered.


    ¡°South. I¡¯m looking for someone.¡±


    That was the direction the river traveled, and it was all he had to go on. He hoped it was good enough.


    Arin tilted her head. ¡°How fortunate, then, that we¡¯re headed the same direction.¡±


    Leif raised a brow. ¡°That so?¡±


    ¡°The capital,¡± another knight spoke up before hesitating, glancing at Arin as if unsure whether he should have revealed that. ¡°Lady Arin is bound for Valenheart Academy.¡±


    Leif gave a slow nod. Valenheart Academy. He had heard of it in passing ¨C a place where mages and knights trained. It naturally attracted powerful individuals. But that information didn¡¯t seem particularly relevant to him. Not yet anyway.


    ¡°The capitals as good a place to start as any,¡± he said, keeping his tone neutral. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be opposed to traveling with you, assuming that¡¯s what you were suggesting.¡±


    Bertrand scoffed. ¡°You don¡¯t mind, do you?¡±


    Arin studied him for a moment and then smiled. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled. You¡¯ll travel with us to the capital.¡±


    Bertrand bristled, but Arin ignored him and turned on her heel, motioning for the group to move. Leif adjusted his greatsword and fell into step with them, all too aware of the wary glances being cast his way. He had gained passage, but trust? Not quite yet.


    It had been days since he joined their party. The journey had been quiet, save for the occasional tension between him and the knights, Bertrand chief among them. He clearly opposed Leif joining their group. Not that Leif let it get to him; he didn¡¯t join them to make friends. He kept to himself and offered little beyond necessity.


    Until the second attack came.


    It was supposed to be a routine camp setup for the night. The knights had fallen into their usual rotations, fires were being prepared, and Leif was scouting the perimeter with a cadet named Jenson when he caught the first sign of movement.


    He raised the alarm, and the knights reacted quickly. But it wasn¡¯t enough. The enemy had the advantage of positioning, numbers, and the element of surprise.


    Leif, however, did not hesitate. His greatsword cut through the first assailant before they even realized he was there. He moved through the battlefield like a whirlwind. Each swing and parry were executed with perfect efficiency.


    In his offense, he noticed that Arin stepped forward and traced her fingers through the air. A faint glow pulsed from fingers has she muttered a phrase. Shortly after, a spark ignited in her palm and she hurled a burst of fire at an attacker¡¯s chest.


    This was the first time that Leif had seen a mage in person, but he had little time to watch.


    He ducked a sword swing, using his momentum to slam his elbow into his attacker¡¯s gut before driving his blade through the man¡¯s tibs.


    Another opponent charged him. Leif pivoted, parrying a flurry of blows before disarming his attacker. He followed that up with a wide swing of his sword that parted the man¡¯s head from his shoulders.


    The tide had turned, and within a few more minutes the surviving attackers retreated into the night.


    Lowering his blade, Leif surveyed the aftermath. Blood stained his armor, but his breath was steady despite the heavy huffs and puffs of his temporary allies surrounding him.


    Outside the frame of his vision, Arin was watching him with intent.


    The last of the enemy had fled. The knights were regrouping, checking for wounded and ensuring that none of their own had been lost.


    Arin let out a slow breath, observing their camp. She turned her gaze towards Leif.


    He sat at the edge of the camp, cleaning the blood from his greatsword. He had been like that since the fight ended ¨C not excited for the victory, or mourning any of their losses, just caring for his blade.


    Arin was born to a noble merchant family, but she had still witnessed knights training from her childhood. She knew what someone powerful looked like.


    He was raw lethality. His brawling style cared not for chivalry or honor, but to cut down his enemy in the most efficient way possible. Watching how he weaved elbows and kicks into his offense intrigued her.


    That was when Bertrand approached, looking as though he¡¯d swallowed something bitter.


    He stood beside her for a long moment, arms crossed, watching the same thing she was.


    But Bertrand was not looking at just Leif. His gaze swept the camp, taking in the wounded and bodies that littered the ground.


    ¡°This shouldn¡¯t have happened,¡± he muttered.


    Arin raised a brow. ¡°Meaning?¡±


    ¡°We should¡¯ve handled that better. They caught us off guard, took down one of ours before we even knew what was happening. We¡¯re trained for this, my lady. And yet, if he ¨C ¡° Bertrand jerked his chin toward Leif ¡°- hadn¡¯t been here, we might¡¯ve taken heavier losses.¡±


    Arin folded her hands in her lap, her expression unchanged. ¡°So you¡¯re saying he was an asset.¡±


    Bertrand¡¯s frown deepened as he seemed to understand where Arin was going with this. He hesitated, but he was an honest man.


    ¡°I¡­ won¡¯t deny that he fought well. But that doesn¡¯t change the fact that we don¡¯t know where he comes from.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care where he comes from.¡±


    Bertrand turned to Arin fully, incredulous.¡± You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    She met his gaze. ¡°Wealth does not ensure power, Bertrand. The Ren¡¯Dal family understands this better than most. We thrive because we make investments ¨C and Leif might be one worth making.¡±


    Bertrand remained silent, so she continued.


    ¡°He¡¯s an unknown, yes. But right now, he¡¯s our unknown. If someone like him is wandering without a banner, that¡¯s an opportunity.¡±


    Bertrand unfolded his arms. ¡°And if he refuses?¡±


    ¡°We just need to make sure the benefits are enticing enough.¡±


    She tapped her fingers against her wrist in thought before speaking again. ¡°Say Bertrand, do you think Leif would be interested in enrolling into Valenheart Academy?¡±


    Bertrand¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Lady Ren¡¯Dal¡­¡±


    ¡°Think about it.¡± She cut him off.


    Bertrand was silent for a long moment. Then, reluctantly, he said, ¡°It won¡¯t be easy. I don¡¯t know him, but he doesn¡¯t seem like the trustworthy type.¡±


    ¡°Which is why we don¡¯t make it about trust,¡± Arin replied smoothly. ¡°We¡¯ll make it about opportunity.¡±


    ¡°And if he still has no interest?¡± Bertrand said.


    Arin¡¯s fingers continued drumming against her wrist. ¡°Then we make him interested.¡±


    Bertrand¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You can¡¯t mean¡­ you don¡¯t plan to manipulate him?¡±


    Arin laughed softly. ¡°Oh, Bertrand. Such an ugly word. I prefer ¡®persuade.¡¯¡±