Prince Asher and Sir Tristan rode alongside the deep river gorge that funneled the churning rapids towards the village. The riverside path they traveled upon cut through a deep green grove, full of mossy boulders and ancient oaks. It was midday, but a thick veil of gloomy clouds blocked the sun's rays, casting a dark shadow on the land. A chilling wind howled through the trees, stinging Asher's face and chilling him to the bone.
Soon they approached the small, sleepy village. Modest homes and shops spanned either side of the shallow, stone-filled stream that ran through the center of town. A large water mill creaked rhythmically as it churned in the swift currents. Runestone's inhabitants were an isolated folk, separated from the bustle of the Royal Capital by a large expanse of the Great Forest.
The modest yet resourceful villagers had been successfully farming the surrounding area for generations. The fields located in the river valley were among the most fertile in the kingdom, providing food for much of Aziria. In days past, the inhabitants of the village were known to be strong and hardy folk. However, as Prince Asher entered the settlement, he thought they seemed rather disheveled and malnourished. He noticed the fearful glares on their faces as they recognized him from his mission the day before.
Do they really hate me that much? I’m just doing my duty as Prince by collecting the tithes. Each family only has to give up 5 coppers and a sack of grain per month. That’s nothing! We have no choice but to keep our army fed and equipped. But then why do they seem so unhappy..?
Asher quickly chased the questions out of his head. It doesn’t matter if they hate me. I have to do this. I must rescue Lady Rheya, no matter the cost.
“We’ll scour every inch of this village until we find those thieves. You search the far end of town, and I’ll look around here,” he called to Sir Tristan.
“Very well my prince,” came the reply.
Prince Asher began riding down each street one by one, hoping to discover some evidence of the stolen coppers. He kept his eyes and ears open for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.
The villagers milling about the town all gave him a wide berth as he rode down the cobbled path, avoiding him like the plague. They proved unhelpful when questioned, giving vague responses or claiming that they had no knowledge of the missing funds. Prince Asher began growing frustrated as his search dragged on without yielding so much as a clue. His panic only grew when he remembered his father's words regarding Lady Rheya.
He was starting to believe his efforts were in vain, when he heard a chorus of soft murmuring coming from one of the larger huts in the village. It was an old wooden construction, with many smaller rooms and offshoots attached to the main structure. It looked like just as good of a place as any for a bandit hideout.
He approached the building, and rapped on the door. The voices immediately hushed, but no one came to answer. This aroused the prince’s suspicions even further. He tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge, as if someone had barred the door from the other side.
Prince Asher carefully tread around the side of the hut, and noticed a smaller door located in the back of the building. He decided to try the handle, but this door was locked too. He thought about continuing his search elsewhere, but he was curious about who was inside, and why they silenced themselves when he knocked.
He ultimately decided to force the door open, and investigate within. The prince took a few steps back, and then ran forward, using his armored shoulder to bash into the door with a firm thud. The door busted open, its flimsy lock broken. Prince Asher entered a small storage room, where nothing seemed unusual to him. Crates of fresh apples and grain were stacked in the corner, and butchered meat hung from hooks attached to the ceiling. There was a small staircase leading up to the main area of the hut, where he had heard the suspicious murmurs.
Prince Asher contemplated going to find Sir Tristan, but decided that if the thieves were indeed inside, they’d escape before he had a chance to apprehend them. He slowly crept up the stairs, and pressed his ear to the door. He could barely make out the sound of panicked whispers coming from the other side.
”Did you hear that! I think he’s in the store room. He must have heard us talking through the walls!” a voice said.
”Be silent, you fool!” another replied.
Prince Asher’s heart began pounding, as he was almost certain he had found his target. It was too late to back out now, and he couldn’t wait for Sir Tristan to support him. He took a deep breath, and drew his sword as he turned the doorknob.
Upon opening the door, he saw a crowd of peasants and a few armed men circled around a figure who was hurriedly attempting to hide several wooden chests. The tithe chests. He had discovered the missing funds.
The prince pointed his sword at the ringleader, and studied him carefully. He was surprisingly young, appearing to be close in age to Prince Asher himself, but much smaller in stature. He had a wiry frame, and was clothed in worn leather armor. His unkempt brown hair fell haphazardly across his forehead, and his blue eyes stared back at the prince with vigor and fury. The dual blades hanging at his hip made Prince Asher certain that he was the hooded bandit from the day before.
“You there!” the prince shouted. “Drop your weapons and surrender yourself right now, in the name of the king!”
The group of peasants stood back, cowering behind tables and chairs. The armed bandits among them stepped forward, ready to defend the villagers. However their leader waved his hand, signaling them to stay back. He looked up angrily at the prince. “You again? Are you that desperate for another beating?”
"I'm here to deliver justice, nothing more," Prince Asher said softly. 'This is my chance to save Lady Rheya. I must not fail,' he thought.
He raised his sword, and swung at the bandit leader with all the speed and precision he could muster.
The thief dodged the strike with ease and retaliated with his twin blades, catching Prince Asher in the side with a glancing blow. Luckily, the prince's chain mail protected him from serious damage. He was still in danger though, and the bandit leader wasted no time in unleashing another barrage of lightning fast slashes.
Prince Asher felt himself being overwhelmed by his opponent’s swift attacks, but remained determined. 'I won’t lose again!' He told himself. He traded blows back and forth with the bandit, trying to gain the upper hand. His armor protected him well, but also slowed him down, leaving him vulnerable to his opponent's swift attacks.
After several exchanges, the prince detected an opening in the bandit's defense. When he raised his arms for an overhand attack, his torso was left unguarded for a split-second. Prince Asher waited until his opponent repeated this move, and staked everything on his next strike. He lunged forward with his longsword, placing his weapon perfectly in the bandit's vulnerable zone. 'I've got you now!' Prince Asher thought, preparing to take his victory. However, his opponent did something incredible, changing the direction of his blade at the last possible moment. He parried the prince's strike, and sent his sword clattering to the ground. Prince Asher had lost again, despite doing everything he could to win.
'No! I can't lose, for Rheya's sake...' he thought.
Desperate to think of something, Prince Asher grabbed a nearby villager and drew his dagger, pressing its cold steel to the terrified old man’s throat. The peasant gasped in fear and shock, but didn't cry out.
“Return what you stole now, or this man dies. It makes no difference to me,” Prince Asher said coldly. In the back of his mind, he knew he was bluffing.
“I never thought you would stoop this low, Prince,” said the bandit. “This is how you protect your subjects? By threatening to murder them in cold blood? You’re a disgrace. Take the damn money and leave our village.” He motioned for his men to stay back, and threw the chests of coppers at Prince Asher’s feet.
Prince Asher noticed that during the tense situation he had inadvertently dug his blade slightly into the thin flesh of his hostage’s neck. Bright red blood pooled on the man’s throat, and began to drip down onto the coins below. Startled, Prince Asher released his grip on the terrified man.
He immediately realized his mistake as the bandits quickly scattered, all running out separate windows and doors, with the peasants following close behind. The prince thought about going after them, but he realized he couldn't leave the chests unguarded. He had secured the tithes, but the bandits had slipped through his fingers. Prince Asher could only pray that reclaiming the funds would be enough to secure Rheya's freedom. He dragged the heavy wooden chests out the front door, scanning the village for any signs of the thieves, but found none. Even the townspeople seemed to have run off, and the streets were eerily empty.
A few moments later, Sir Tristan arrived with both horses in tow. He noticed Prince Asher's sullen face.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I was able to secure the tithes, but the bandits escaped before I could do anything. I failed," Prince Asher said, his voice quivering slightly. All he could think about was what would happen to Rheya when he returned. His stomach sank as he imagined all the horrific things his father might have in store for her.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself my Prince,” Sir Tristan said calmly as he approached. “We reclaimed the tithes, and have secured funds for the Holy War. Consider it a victory,” he said confidently.
“You don't understand. You can call it a victory, but I assure you father won’t be pleased,” Asher said gravely as he and Sir Tristan mounted up, and made for the palace with their reclaimed spoils.
On the ride back Asher couldn’t help but sink into a deep shame. He hated the way his actions made him feel. His mind kept replaying the moment he held his knife to the peasant’s throat.
'Is this the kind of person I’ve become...?' he asked himself genuinely. 'I did what I must, for Lady Rheya,' he told himself, trying to stave off his guilt.
Soon they arrived back at the towering spires of the Azirian Palace.
“I have returned with the stolen coppers, father,” Asher said, opening the large chest, and once again kneeling in front of the King.
King Aemon looked down at him from his high throne, expressionless. “And what of the bandits that stole from us?” he asked.
Asher looked down. “They fled,” he said softly.
“Dammit boy. You’re utterly useless. As rulers of this land, we cannot let insurrection of any kind pass. Any attack against the Holy Azirian Kingdom is an attack against God himself. Don’t you understand that?”
“I understand Father, I will accept any punishment you see fit,” Prince Asher uttered, bowing low. In the back of his mind he prayed he could take the consequences, and spare Lady Rheya.
“I will spare you this time, only because we have a more urgent matter to attend to,” said the King. “Come with me,” he said, beckoning Prince Asher out of the throne room.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Neither of them spoke as he lead Asher down into the bowels of the fortified palace, below even the grim depths of the castle dungeon. There were miles of labyrinth-like tunnels beneath the palace, built centuries ago by the first King of Aziria. During a siege, they could be used by the royal family to escape an invading army. However, they had yet to be used for that purpose as the palace had never been invaded.
They walked for what seemed like an eternity, navigating the complex network of hallways. Finally, they arrived at an enormous stone door hidden deep within the tunnels. Two elite Holy Knights stood on either side, solemn and alert. On the king’s signal, they dragged the heavy stone doors open. As Prince Asher walked through, he stared in wonder at the sight he now beheld. He found himself in an enormous cavern made of jet black rock. The stone floor seemed to expand outwards infinitely, with no walls in sight. There was a colossally deep rift in the center of the chamber, so deep you couldn't begin to see the bottom. An eerie fog and strange rumblings emitted from the depths of the pit, sending a chill down Asher's spine.
“Do you know what this place is?” the King asked expectantly.
“The ancient chasm?” Asher replied. “I thought it was permanently sealed centuries ago by the Azirian royal family,” he said incredulously.
“So it’s been said, but years ago, I began an effort to unlock the chasm’s secrets. Excavators have been working day and night to chip away at the solid stone that has long blocked the way,” the King said, almost excitedly. “Recently, we made some revolutionary discoveries within. Discoveries that will change the world.”
King Aemon walked Asher to an ancient stone altar in the front of the chamber, which held a large object. It was a crude, black, and gnarled hunk of metal. After looking at the strange item for a few seconds, Asher determined it to be an enormous sword, with a jagged and razor-sharp edge.
“This, Asher, is the answer to all of our problems. If you wield this sword, no enemy can stand against you in battle,” King Aemon said ominously.
“How can that be?” Asher asked genuinely. The sword seemed impractical in design and far too large to be brandished with any accuracy.
“This isn’t just any sword Asher. It’s an ancient relic from an age long forgotten. This sword is imbued with the soul of the demon, Omen. Wielding it allows the user to harness some of Omen’s power as their own,” The King replied in a serious tone.
Asher took a second glance at the hideous weapon. It had a strange aura around it. The more he looked at it, the more it seemed like it was alive, rhythmically breathing in and out.
“What are you talking about?! You can’t be serious,” Asher said. “Calling upon demonkind would be a crime against God.”
The King sighed. “My son, the Holy War is all that matters. We must use any and all power at our disposal to crush the Celestians. Something monstrous is coming for us, mark my words. An ancient darkness that will envelop the entire world. If we fail to conquer Celestia, we will be destroyed along with them. You must wield this sword this so our kingdom can survive. It has already been foretold in prophecy.”
“What’s coming for us?" Asher asked, panicked.
"Never-mind that. Just understand that we must win this war, at all costs. The lives of our people are at stake. But know this, the tide is turning in our favor. I personally have masterminded a foolproof plan to capture Celestia's princess. Without Princess Arianna, the people of Celestia will have no one to put their faith in. King Caedrich will be killed soon after, which I will see to personally. Our forces will flood Celestia, and take the capital. We will conquer those heretics, and claim what's rightfully ours," King Aemon said.
"But why must we fight them, father? If they're not our true enemy, couldn't we use their strength, and stand against our common foe together?"
“I wish it was that simple, but this is the only way, my son. You must have faith in me,” the king replied.
“This feels wrong,” Asher muttered.
“This is what we must do to prevent the destruction of Aziria, don’t you understand?! You don’t have a choice,” the king insisted.
“I suppose I can pick up the sword and see how it feels…” Asher said reluctantly.
“Excellent. However… there is one requirement you must meet in order to become the owner of this blade. Omen will not accept just anyone to wield his power. First you must make a great sacrifice to him, to demonstrate your resolve,” King Aemon said.
“What kind of sacrifice?” Asher asked, afraid to hear the answer.
“Bring her in!” The king called loudly. A few moments later the palace guards walked in, escorting a young girl. She wore a simple white dress, and her hands were restrained with chains.
Asher immediately noticed her raven black hair and bright scarlet eyes. “Have I seen her before?” he wondered. The prince wanted to talk to her, but she had been gagged with a cloth and was unable to speak. The only sound the girl could produce was a hoarse cry that she kept repeating.
King Aemon noticed Asher's confusion and spoke. “I’ll be direct about this. In order to bond with Omen, you must sacrifice this girl. She is of noble blood, but her family is gone and she has no use anymore. Being an Offering is a great honor, one that she will carry proudly."
“Are you insane? I can’t do that!” Asher cried, but his father’s expression didn’t change.
“Come here, my son,” King Aemon said, motioning Asher towards the altar. Asher reluctantly walked over. The king guided Asher’s hand towards the sword’s hilt. “Pick it up!” The king commanded.
Asher instinctively picked up the massive weapon. It took all his might just to lift it. Up close it was just as ugly as from afar. The cross-guard was gnarled and covered in sharp barbs and the black blade gleamed with malice. Once he gripped it in his hands, Asher felt a strange surge of energy coursing into his body, making him feel increasingly unnerved.
King Aemon steered Asher towards the girl and place his hand’s firmly on the Prince’s shoulders. “Do it,” he whispered.
Asher tensed up. “I can’t,” he said.
“Yes, you can. Think of it of as saving every life in Aziria,” King Aemon said. “What’s one death if it means unlocking the power to defeat our enemy? You must do it now son! For Aziria!”
Asher had never defied his Father’s orders. In his mind, they were absolute. He’d seen what happened to nobles who went against father, and it was a fate worse than death.
Asher started to hear whispers in the back of his mind, like the sword was calling out to his subconscious . He felt a sudden rage, an urge to lash out with the blade. He tensed his body, preparing to carry out his father's orders. For a split second, the girl’s eyes met his. Asher saw a desperate sadness in them and froze. He recognized something hauntingly familiar, but he couldn’t remember what it was.
Asher winced as he prepared to carry out the King’s command, but his arms wouldn’t move. He felt the king’s anger rising with each passing second, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to swing the sword.
“I can’t do this…” he thought.
Prince Asher threw the evil sword to the ground, sending it clattering away.
“You don’t want to do that, Asher,” King Aemon said.
“Maybe not, but I must,” Asher said.
King Aemon sighed. “It’s a shame it had to be this way, my son. I had hoped we could save this kingdom together. Go ahead and flee, if you wish. I will not stop you. But know this, you are now a traitor to the Azirian kingdom. My enemies never survive long..." he whispered.
“You can’t be serious...” Prince Asher said in bewilderment. He began inching away and finally broke into a terrified sprint. As promised, his father didn’t give chase. He just stood there in the same place, watching him.
Asher began to run faster than he ever had before, tearing past the Holy Knights, and through the maze of subterranean hallways. He made the wrong turn several times, and was forced to backtrack and choose a different path. Eventually, he managed to find his way. He sprinted up the stairs, beyond the dungeon, and up into the palace. The many guards he passed didn't give chase, they just stared at him with confusion. Prince Asher made it to his chamber safely, quickly donning a cloak and grabbing his sword before departing. He needed to make it out of the palace as fast as possible.
He headed out into the courtyard, pulling the hood of his cloak over his face. The night air was cold, and Asher could see the misty clouds of his ragged breath against the black sky. Luckily there was no one present on the grounds to question him, and he was able to move freely. As he exited the palace gates, there was still no sign of any pursuers and Asher let out a small sigh of relief.
He pushed onward, heading for the stables. His plan was to mount his horse and escape across the bridge to the mainland before the guards were alerted. He maintained a steady gait, trying not to rouse any suspicion. Most citizens were home by this hour, and the streets were mostly clear except for the occasional patrol. Prince Asher held his breath as they walked by, but they seemingly took no notice of him. By the time he reached the stables, Asher was sure that his father had had sent the Holy Knights after him, but everything remained calm as he approached his steed.
He mounted the horse immediately, not wanting to waste precious time by saddling the beast. He trotted out to the main street, and rode for the bridge. The streets remained empty, and as Prince Asher crossed the city square, he began to feel confident he would make it out of Artoria unscathed. However, his hope was quickly shattered by an ominous sound, the sound of many hooves galloping across the cobblestones. He turned around, and saw several patrols of city guards riding his way, followed by what looked to be a company of Holy Knights.
Asher's heart started pounding, and he kicked his horse's side, spurring it forward it at a breakneck pace. The bridge that would take him to the mainland was in view, and he held on for dear life as his mount sped across the city center. The night air whistled by, and Asher heard nothing else but his horse's hooves clomping across the cobbled streets. By the time he made it onto the bridge, his pursuers were gaining on him, no more than one hundred feet behind. Asher urged his horse forward, praying he would make it in time. Halfway across the bridge, the iron gate at the far end slowly began to fall, creaking as its rusty chain fed through the pulley system. Asher only had a few seconds to pass under or else we would be trapped without any means of escape. Glancing behind him, he could see his pursuers were closing the gap between them quickly. Asher's heart was pounding out of his chest, and his entire body was shaking uncontrollably as the chilling wind cut through him.
He spurred his horse forward with all his might, praying he would make it out in time. As he approached the outer wall, over half of the iron gate had descended, leaving barely enough space to pass under. Arrows began to fly towards him, both from the men behind and from the guardsmen on the outer wall. Prince Asher ducked, and closed his eyes as they whizzed by. His horse continued to gallop with incredible speed, somehow avoiding the volley. He heard a deafening crash, and opened his eyes to see the gate had slammed to the ground just behind him. He had escaped the city, and his pursuers were now trapped on the other side as the sentries scrambled to raise the iron gate back up.
Prince Asher was amazed that he made it out of the city gate but debated where to head next.
Where can I go?
After a few seconds of debate he split off the main road, down a hidden game trail he knew well from his days of hunting with Sir Tristan. Now that he thought about it, Prince Asher realized he hadn’t seen Sir Tristan since they returned with the tithes.
Asher rode down the dark path, looking out for low-hanging branches and glancing behind his back every now and then. He wholly expected an expanse of torches to appear over the hill, signaling the arrival of hundreds of horsemen. The Holy Knights were the largest cavalry unit on the continent, and arguably the most formidable warriors known to man. They were also fiercely loyal to King Aemon himself. If they caught him, there would be no chance of survival.
Minutes ticked by and there was still no sign of the Holy Knights. Asher was still fearful, but he began to breathe a little easier as he advanced deeper into the forest. However, Prince Asher realized he still wasn't safe yet, or even close. His entire kingdom was now a hostile nation, and he had nowhere to go.
Suddenly his luck seemed to change. Sir Tristan happened to be returning from a hunting trip and came galloping around the corner on horseback. He wore his traveling leathers, and his sword was sheathed at his side. On his back he carried his hunting bow, and a large deer carcass was slung over the rear of his horse. His face was surprised when he looked up and saw Prince Asher.
“Prince Asher? Where are you going alone at this hour your highness?” said Sir Tristan as he came to a halt.
“Sir Tristan! It’s a relief to find you out here. I must tell you something… Father has lost his mind! He took me into the ancient chasm and started ranting about demons, asking me to sacrifice a young girl to them! When I refused, he set the Holy Knights on me! I barely escaped alive,” Prince Asher said, trying to catch his breath.
“You refused the king’s orders?” Sir Tristan asked calmly.
Prince Asher looked shocked. “Of course I did. We can’t sacrifice innocents for a chance at saving ourselves. We should be fighting the enemy directly like warriors of God!”
Sir Tristan’s expression went dark, and he got a look in his eye Prince Asher had never seen before.
“It’s a shame you think that way my Prince. You know what happens to those who betray the king...”