Arthur was not supposed to be guarding the camp there, on the ramparts of the Old Castle, as Duke Robert's squire at that moment. He was a lower-born of the Norman peasantry. At the top of Norman society were the aristocratic lords. The Royals, Dukes, Earls, and Barons. Then, at the second level there were knights, clergymen, and scholars. The third level of society consisted of soldiers, rich prostitutes, merchants and craftsmen, and landed farmers. Those who were in the lowest position were the common prostitutes, landless peasants, and shepherds. Arthur didn't even know what level his family belonged. He grew up in Lit Point since he was a child, as he could remember. Their squalid orphanage was in the slum below the hill, on which House Gray's banner fluttered in the sea breeze on the castle’s high towers. The homeless children of peasants, shepherds, and prostitutes grew up there, rolling around in the gutter and mud of the lower depths of society. Some would become part of the eternal cycle of society, becoming peasants and shepherds. Some would grow up as thieves or crooks. The girls would become prostitutes, or if they were lucky, Kirk's priestess.

Earl Hamilton Gray was kind. Breaking through the walls of his lofty castle, drops of kindness sometimes were showered on their orphanage. The remnants of the feasts were given to them as per the earl's order. Someone frequently threw rotten meat, fragrant soft bread from the day before, and a variety of other appetizing foods through the windows of the castle. Sometimes children's broken toys also fell there. Those who picked up the toys were the envy of others.

Arthur often remembered a rainy day. He was playing on a haystack near the orphanage with one such broken wooden knight he had picked up. He did not know why Duke Robert had come to Lit Point that day. He stopped seeing him on the side of the road.

"What is your name? Where do you live?" Duke called him over and asked.

"Arthur." Then he pointed at his orphanage with his fingers.

"Arthur! Arthur, do you know the name of the wooden knight in your hand?” he asked, smiling.

"No, but I named him Rolf. Someday I will grow up to be a knight riding such a horse.”

"Oh, you do. But then you must learn to ride a horse from a knight first.”

"You seem to be a knight. Will you teach me?” Five-year-old Arthur asked the duke with a child's innocent simpleness.

Despite his solemnity, Lord Robert laughed loudly and took Arthur on his horse. And then, at that moment, here Arthur stood on the ramparts as Lord Robert’s favorite squire, always loyal and devoted.

Arthur was standing on the nearest rampart from the main gatehouse of Old Castle, leaning against the wall. The sky was moonless. This ruined castle was standing silently like a ghost in the pitch-black darkness, announcing its existence. The curtain wall was collapsing in places. The four main watch towers on the four corners were completely devastated. The interior of the castle stood burned for three hundred years, testifying to the barbarity of the Titon conquerors. Among the nearly destroyed buildings inside were the stables, smithy, armory, kitchen, granary, and barracks. The roof of the royal court inside the Great Keep was broken. Only the bedchambers of the Cielc royal family survived. Being the innermost part of the Great Tower, it was saved from the fire. The high library tower in the back was leaning. Its downfall was only a matter of time. The bushes and weeds of the surrounding forest were coming to swallow this thousand-year-old fort.

Like Evran, he was not bookish. But he loved to listen to ancient ballads and traditional love songs from bards. Once, he heard a song about the story of this castle from a bard who came to New Castle. He sang how Darren Giantsbane had brought the Norman tribes from the frozen lands of the north to this island after defeating the swamp giants in battle. How the nine tribes of Normans established nine kingdoms throughout Normania. How the great Darren killed the mighty king of the giants, Mahar Maharbal. This green forest, Mahar's Wood, or Mohr’s Wood, was born from the green body of the giant king. Mohr’s Castle was built by Darren himself by burning the giant's body fat into bricks. Which was later called Old Castle, whose old glory was dusty, desolate, and ruined.

Arthur didn’t know how much of these stories were true and how much were fiction. But bards said that the lowest depth of the castle's dungeons contained the ashes of King Darren in a statue of a bronze wolf. Scattered around him were the broken skulls of the giant king. Troubadours used to sing about Darren's great court. Even the gods used to participate in feasts in his court. Darren himself was a demigod. Elenei, the Queen of the North, mated with Al-Father Vanagandr, who was disguised in the form of a dire wolf. This half-human, half-wolf hero was born from their union. The bards sang that Darren would return in the form of a wolf during the final war of the world to quench his thirst with the blood of the creatures of darkness.

The orthodox priests of the Trinitarian faith used to say that Darren was a northern barbarian. He killed the aboriginal peoples of this land and occupied their kingdom, and that wolf-skinned barbarian was struck by lightning as a result of his bloodlust and sin. But few people in Normania believed the hateful, gaudy, and romance-less propaganda of the clergy. The Normans only outwardly accepted the Titon dynasty, the Celts and Gauths tribes that came with them, and the heathen trinitarian religion. But they always loved that hero of the ballads of the Norman poets. Who used to take the form of a wolf in the moonlight, who killed the magical dragon with his sharp teeth, raided the lost lands, and rescued his beloved Arragela, the moon goddess. They also hated the three new gods they were forced to worship: the Father, Mother, and Holy Son. For three hundred years, the people of Normania had been forced to participate in their masses and festivals. These three gods were worshiped only by the newcomer tribes and noble families of this country. And the Normans still secretly worshiped their deities of nature. Vanagandr, the sun god; Dimartr, the earth goddess; Fen, the water goddess; and Donor, the god of thunder and storms, were the gods to be ultimately worshipped by them. Even every Norman lord's castle had a sacred god's wood, where the ancient sacred tree pair of ash and oak stood proudly. The kings of House Titon could not help but show such little tolerance towards the Norman lords.

Arthur didn't know when his eyes were closed, thinking. He woke up to a sound somewhere nearby. Some predators were eating the carcasses of the wild dogs killed by them in the evening. He took the torch from the bracket hanging on the wall and looked down. These were a pack of foxes that came from the surrounding forest. They were eating the flesh of dead wild dogs in utter silence. Looking a little to the left, Arthur understood the reason for the silence of the foxes. A huge bear loomed nearby, chewing on a dog's carcass. Bears were never used to sharing food with anyone. As a result, he would chase away the jackals as soon as he learned of their presence.

Arthur saw a huge gray wolf suddenly emerge from the other side of the dead wild dogs. The foxes rushed towards him. Grrrr…. growling, the wolf bared its teeth. Its sharp teeth flashed even in the dark. Along with that, a pack of wolves came out of the woods. The foxes couldn’t help but retreat slowly from the carcasses. But the wolf’s growl disturbed the bear’s feast. Annoyed, the freak stood up, leaving his meal. He ran straight towards the wolf. The foxes stood back to watch the fight. The rest of the wolves wanted to advance to help their gray leader. Baring his teeth, the gray wolf forbade them to interfere. Like a true leader, he wanted to lead from the front. Just as the bear was about to pounce on him, the wolf jumped out of the bear's path. Although it was lightning fast compared to its huge size, the bear narrowly failed. The wolf stood still. Then it began to look around to see the movement of the bear. The bear attacked several times. The wolf was able to jump out at the last moment. In the end, the bear was unable to keep up with its momentum on the last attack and fell down. The wolf turned around in an instant and tore a huge chunk of flesh from the bear’s neck, grabbing it with his sharp teeth. Fatally wounded, the bear couldn’t get up. But without landing the final blow, the wolf left the bear and vanished into the woods with his pack, losing their appetite for dead dogs. The foxes surrounded the dying bear. Arthur moved away from the edge of the rampart and went down the stairs to the inner courtyard. But the events that happened a while ago started floating in his mind repeatedly. Arthur couldn't get the thought out of his head.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

At the end of his watch, he returned to the great keep to wake Evran for his turn. As he passed in front of Lord Robert's room, he glanced at it. His door was open. Lord Robert was awake in his bedchamber. A torch was burning in the room. Lord Robert was sitting on a chair in front of the table on one side. He was reading something in the dim light of a candle on the table. Hearing the sound of footsteps, he sensed Arthur's presence.

"Come in, Arthur." Lord Robert called without looking back.

"My Lord, but Lady Elizabeth." He hesitated.

"Eliza slept in another chamber tonight. You can come in.”

Arthur entered. Lord Robert had a letter in his hand. There was a black envelope on the table with a broken seal with the sigil of spider on it.

"A friend sent this letter from the capital. A messenger raven brought it to me when you left the party and went forward in the afternoon.” Lord Robert showed him the letter. He often used to share some secrets with his two favorite squires.

"Bad news, my lord?" Arthur asked as his eyes widened.

"The raven with dark wings brings dark news. Crown Prince Conrad met his demise at the hands of the Masharatees during the crusade in Emiriya. And King Henry the Third has gone mad with grief over the death of his son. Unable to bear this pain, he is getting weaker day by day. He is on the verge of death.

“So, his uncle, Lord High Chancellor Prince Gabriel, took over as the Protector of the realm of Normania. He has kept the news of Crown Prince's death a secret till now."

"Weren’t you Prince Gabriel's squire? Did he send this letter?”

"No. But the person who sent it was once very close to me and the prince.” Lord Robert sighed. “I may have to cut short our visit to Danver and leave for the capital from there. The situation there is getting worse every day.”

Arthur did not fully understand Lord Robert's words. He didn't even understand why the situation in the capital was getting chaotic. As the duke of Danelaw, Lord Robert never gave his vassals any chance of court intrigue at New Castle. Lord Wilhelm's banquets and feasts were usually held outside the castle in New Town. So, he never had the chance to experience the intrigues of the high lords. Lord Robert understood that and said, "You know that when a king dies, his eldest son becomes king. If he has no son, then the eldest brother among his own brothers sits on the throne. And next in line are the nephews and bastard born sons of the king.”

"But, with the death of Crown Prince Conrad, the king has no sons and no brothers or nephews. Even there are no bastard sons of the king.”

"You got it right. Such a situation had never happened before in Normania or in any state of Seleonia. When King Henry the Third dies, his cousin Prince John and the King's only daughter, Princess Augustine, will both rise to claim the throne. There is no written law in the royal constitution or in the holy book of the Trinitarian faith as to which of them has the greater right. So, both Prince John and Queen Mary, mother of the young princess, are trying to seize power."

"Who do you think is the true heir, John or Augustine?"

"According to the ancient law of Norman tribes, even if the king's child was a daughter, her claim comes before the king's cousins. But most of the Norman lords would rather support the claim of a man than a girl." Robert stopped for a moment. He picked up the cup next to him and sipped it. Then he continued, "But whoever wants to sit on the throne, it is not possible without the support of Prince Gabriel."

"Then why are you needed in the capital? Is Prince Gabriel trying to seize power himself in this situation?” Arthur asked.

"Prince Gabriel is the one who has held true power in the royal court for many years. He could have usurped the throne long ago if he wanted. He will not do anything that is against his religion and honor. But he hesitates before taking any decision. Which makes the situation worse. As was the case before Prince Daniel's rebellion. The passing years have made this old man more wary. He needed to announce the king's new heir as soon as he heard of Prince Conrad's death. Or there may be a repeat of the civil war from seventeen years ago. Those who are in the king's council are more concerned with their own interests than the welfare of the kingdom. I will go there and try to prevent any new conflict. Or else the commonfolk of Normania will be the one who suffers most again.”

They heard someone's footsteps outside. Someone was standing there. Lord Robert fell silent. Then, to change the topic, he picked up a sword from the side of his armor. Arthur recognized that. In the evening, they brought this awkwardly shaped sword from the dead body of that old Hakim's companion.

"Amazing sword, isn't it?" Robert commented. Then he handed it to him and asked, "Have you ever seen such a sword before?"

"No, my lord. I have seen Emiriyan curved swords before in the armory. But I have never seen such a double-edged sword, splitted towards the head. Its metal also s different than normal steel.” Arthur shook his head.

“It is made of Mashadi steel. Look at the watery pattern on it.”

Arthur examined it carefully. Numerous lines, like waves, have appeared on it. Its color is not as bright as that of a normal steel sword. Rather, its color is dull blue. Its handle is made of oak wood. The pommel was curved like a lion’s face.

"The craftsman clan of Mashad had gone long ago. So, no new Mashadi steel swords are seen anymore. This type of steel is rare in Seleonia. A handful of ancient families still have Mashadi steel swords in Emiriya.”

"Do all Mashadi steel swords have two heads?"

"No, I have never seen such a sword. But I have heard about this kind of sword. The imams of the Mawalid fraction of the Masharatee faith and the fedayeen assassins use these kinds of swords. Only very skilled warriors can wield it.”

Robert took the sword from Arthur's hand. Then he put it into the leather sheath and handed it again to Arthur.

"What will be the fate of it now, my lord? Will you keep it as your personal sword?”

"I always wanted to have a Mashadi steel sword in the possession of our house. I once crossed the Pale Sea with the Knights of the Order of the Vigil and went on a crusade to Emiriya. At that time, I tried hard to collect a Mashadi steel sword. But it’s such an asset that money cannot buy. Luckily, I got one of these today.” The duke put his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "But this sword is someone else’s property. We have to hand it over to its rightful owner. Perhaps when the situation in Normania is normal, I will have the opportunity to go with you and Evran to Emiriya in search of its owner. Until then, I entrust you with this sword, Arthur. Always keep it with you and take care of it.”

Arthur carefully picked up the sword and tied it to his sword belt. Lord Robert finished his wine and got up. Upon retiring to bed, he said, "I once heard from a Hakim in Emiriya that Prophet Adel Sharad presented such a double-headed Mashadi steel sword to his brother, the first Imam of the Mawalids, Al Ghalib, upon the prophet’s return from his ascension. The name of that sword was ‘Al Figar’ in Aramaic, which means ‘The one that differentiates’.

"Every good sword has a name. My lord, may this sword have a name until it is returned?” Arthur requested.

"Look at its edge and weight, Arthur. You can cut a horse in two with a single blow. So, I name it ‘Spine Splitter’.” Saying that, he fell asleep.