Chapter 3

Kailu stood at the entrance of the King’s court. It had been years since he had set foot upon these royal floors. Shakily, he took a moment to steady his breath and tidy his appearance, after all, no matter the circumstance, one must always take care to look respectable before the King.

Earlier, though Simo had also intended to face the King, a hooded figure had appeared from the shadows and informed him of his given tasks. Apparently, during a time of crisis, his spymaster duties required more than just a simple report. So, begrudgingly, Simo had left, and Kailu alone walked nervously into the royal courts.

As he approached the throne room, his eyes darted around the palace, entranced by the beauty and craftsmanship evident in every design. The halls were as grandiose as he’d ever remembered. The royal colours, a dark brooding blue and flaming vermilion, draped themselves across impressive stone pillars, while banners of the Wyndian Cloud Dragon hung proudly from the thick gilded ballasts of oak which supported the roof. Golden armoured soldiers, wielding both spears and swords, stood like statues on each side of the luscious crimson carpet which he was now waking on. Their unwavering formation inspired fear and admiration, and if your eyes were to follow their perfect formation, you would eventually land upon front of the grand hall and onto the King’s pedestal, the Wyndian throne, where a magnificently bearded man of powerful build sat leisurely, emanating a spirit of both poise and savagery.

Finally standing before the throne, Kailu watched the herald puff his chest and take a deep breath.

“You stand before Randelle the third, Quell of the Cloud Dragon, Scourge of the White wolf and King of Wyndia!” His voice boomed across the royal court, “Kneel and state your business!”

Kailu’s hands were sweaty as he knelt before the King.

“Your Majesty, vice-master prophet Kailu Sun is humbled to be in your presence. I am here on behalf of the Lord Prophet Gillian to relay a prophecy of calamity.”

“Yes, yes. I know.” King Randelle stood up and gestured for Kailu to stand before him.

Kailu stood, his face betraying a slight confusion.

“The Lord Prophet sent you scurrying to tell me that-“ He sighed, a look of annoyance flashing across his face, “Oh, let me guess… ‘The gods have spoken, if we don’t make a sacrifice of royal blood the country is doomed’. Right?”

Kailu gulped.

As he’d suspected, the King had already known everything he had to relay. The ‘Night’s Shade’ was in every corner of the Kingdom after all. To say he had ‘ears behind every wall’ was an understatement.

But then again, it could also simply be experience, as he was the same King who had quelled the calamity twenty years prior.

“U-um yes, your majesty.” Kailu answered slowly, “It has arrived again.”

“Again huh.” Randelle stepped forward, then smirked, tilting his head in wistful humour, “Then I may be the first King to have had to handle two prophecies in one lifetime, no?”

Kailu nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond.

“Well. That is indeed rather unfortunate.” Randelle chuckled, easing the mood, “So… How do we fix it? Why did it happen? Do you bear anything interesting besides the bad news you prophets always carry?”

Kailu paused for a moment, pondering in his thoughts.

“Your majesty… although I am not completely certain…”

Randelle raised an eyebrow.

“i-I do have a theory as to why our calamity may have occurred so early.” Kailu suggested, invoking a smile from the King.

“Well, well. A prophet offering useful information.” He mused, “Truly, you get to see something new everyday.” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

“Well, go on then. Tell me your theory.”

Kailu nodded stiffly, and began to explain.

“As you know, ‘in the beginning’, the civilisation of man made a deal with the gods to find peace in this world filled with terrors.”

The King nodded.

“The deal dictated that we, as servants to god, would have to sacrifice the blood of a ruler once every one-hundred years.” Kailu glanced up, then averted his eyes slowly, “…to remind us that no matter their power or skill, the true masters of men, will always be the gods.”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“Right.” Randelle chuckled sarcastically, leaning back into his throne, “Sounds good so far.”

Kailu clenched his hands anxiously, but continued.

“T-the Sword of Sacrifice, Decadence, was gifted to the first generation of the ‘Protected’, and a select few lineages of man were blessed with ‘The Gift of Sacrifice’. These special men, with their gifts were the only men who could wield the Sword of Sacrifice’s power. The power to commune with gods, b-but only when a sacrifice of the royal lineage was made-”

Randelle nodded impatiently, waving his hand.

“Okay. Enough with the history lesson. What is your theory?”

Kailu swallowed, a little of his confidence returning to him.

“I propose that the sacrificier from twenty years ago. Kai-“

“Kaiser Renn.” The King grumbled.

“Y-yes,” Kailu nodded, “A-as far as we know, Kaiser may have performed the sacrifice, “

“Well of course he did. It was the sacrifice or his life.” Randelle growled, “If he didn’t sacrifice my-“

Randelle paused, his face twisting into an unreadable expression.

“Well… If he didn’t perform the sacrifice…then our country would be in ruin now.”

Kailu nodded, having expected that answer, “Of course your majesty, but what if...“

“What if he performed the sacrifice improperly. What if he had performed it with ‘Decadence’ broken as we’d retrieved it?”

Randelle shook his head and scoffed.

“Impossible. Then the sacrifice would be incomplete, the gods would refuse to grant us peace.”

Kailu raised a hand, now a little excited at the opportunity to show his worth.

“Actually, my majesty, it’s not quite impossible. In fact, based on the holy text, just five centuries ago-“

Randelle raised his hand and cut him off.

“Tell me prophet… do you know what it takes to make that one sacrifice?”

Kailu retracted his arm, and slowly shook his head. He knew the basics, but nothing of the intricacies. It was a secret craft after all.

“Well let me ‘enlighten’ you.” The King sat forward, staring into Kailu’s eye, “It takes decades of training just so a master of sacrifice may perfect one swing of the ‘Decadence’. Beside their training, the sacrifice must be performed in perfect conditions.”

“On the day of the sacrifice, sacrificiers consider the weather, the temperature, the sweat on the grip of the handle, the direction of the wind, the light of the sun, even the hair on the sacrifice’s neck.” He paused, “And yet, you’re telling me that Kaiser Renn, no matter how ‘improper’, could perform this ritual on the run from the entire nation, with no practice, no preparation, a body full of wounds, a non-cooperative sacrifice, AND a broken “Decadence”?”

Kailu felt a flash of anger at his dismissal.

“Well was he not the best?” He retorted in a burst of courage.

The Kings eyes widened in surprise. He leant back slowly into his throne.

“You are naïve.” He spoke flatly, looking toward the gilded ceilings of his royal halls, “Talent does not beget miracles.”

“You, a religious man who recoils at even the sight of blood… You do not know the weakness of men when they are pushed to the edge.” He continued, “They tremble, they curse, they crumble. No man could perform what takes a million swings of practice on the day at which they face death…”

There was a pause.

“Even so…” He sighed, and returned his gaze to Kailu, “What do you think happened?”

Kailu nodded and knelt slowly.

“Thank you, your majesty. I will try to explain..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

­

On the far side of the Wyndian Capitol, on the second floor of a small villa surrounded by farmland, a spry young woman with reddish auburn hair was packing for what seemed like a long journey. Behind her a singular maid circled worriedly around the determined young lady, yapping in disapproval and throwing a spectacular fuss.

“My lady Evange! You cannot leave us! The family will collapse without your guidance!” The maid shouted, “Your brothers and sisters do not have the fortitude to lead this weakened house, you must not leave!”

“Oh but I can and I will moma Ro, I’m one of the finest female knights of the kingdom! And this search for the Sword of Sacrifice, if I retrieve it, our family shall once again rise to Wyndian nobility!” The young woman known as Evange smiled, patting down a set of fine clothes into her leather travel case.

“One of the finest female Knights my lady, Female!” Mrs. Ro jumped in frustration, “There are barely any female knights in the kingdom, it is no wonder you are one of the ‘finest’ my lady!”

Evange turned to face her motherly maid and pouted, an annoyed expression upon her face.

“Well that was rather rude!” She rebutted, “Not something you should say to the woman you’ve raised to be strong and independent.”

The elderly maid puffed, her cheeks turning crimson.

“Can you not listen to me? Is that big forehead of yours used to contain nothing but fantasies? Your brother is still young, and your sisters are all weak-willed fools. They’d sooner marry and sell our family name then stay in this house for honour. You. Must. Stay.”

Evange rolled her eyes and grunted as she plopped onto her bed and faced her milk mother.

“Firstly, moma Ro, my forehead is not large, it is beautifully proportioned.” She started, gesturing with a set of elegant fingers, “Secondly, I won’t be gone long! I promise. And I believe that, you know, since you’ve raised me so well, you can definitely keep those four rascals in check!”

The maid, Mrs. Ro, sighed, her expression softened, and she sat on the bed next to Evange.

“You are just a girl, barely twenty in age-“

“Many have married by my age.”

“Yes, but you are young nonetheless. Inexperienced, brash and naïve too.”

Evange frowned.

“And all the while, you are the finest lady I’d ever taught. A steel-like sense of justice, with the appearance of an angel. The grace of a penguin on stilts, but so beautiful in a dress that even the king wouldn’t be able to resist.”

The maid hesitated for a moment, before speaking again.

“I know why you are so desperate now, more than ever, to prove yourself out there in the world.”

Evange froze.

“But you live your own life, you need not follow your father’s footsteps. You wish to remove his bad name with a deed so great that none could ever deny it, but you do not need to. This, your family, is what’s important.”

Evange stayed silent for a while, then stood up, zipping her bags in the process.

“My father was a good man. There is no bad name to clear. I do this, because I want to.”

“Your father brought this house to ruin.”

“He did not! He was framed, punished for a crime he did not commit!”

Mrs. Ro dipped her head in defeat.

“Well, my lady, it seems your mind is properly made. I cannot advise you any further than I have.” She said in a weary tone.

“Yes. I will leave on this journey, no matter what.”

The maid smiled sadly, then slowly pulled Evange into a tender embrace.

“Well, at least you shall know that you may return any time you wish. Your family will always be here to welcome you.”

Evange nodded and hugged Mrs. Ro tightly. The world outside the capitol was dangerous, and it was uncertain even that they would ever meet again, but she was confident, she needed to be confident.

“I’ll return with good news.” Evange promised.

Mrs. Ro nodded.

On the verge of tears, Evange quickly packed the rest of her belongings. Staying longer would only worsen the pain of leaving, she felt.

In practiced motion, she dressed herself in sword and armour and glanced in the mirror.

She was ready. The girl, covered in polished steel and leather, was a girl no more. She’d be a knight of the kingdom. She’d bring back honour to her household.

Stepping into chilling darkness of the Wyndian outskirts. She looked back at her old dilapidated estate and waved with no particular purpose. Her brothers and sisters would need no farewell, they understood her motives. But she felt the need for some form of ceremony. She looked around and fixed her eyes on the slowly lightening horizon in the east and puffed out a chilly breath.

She will bring back honour to the Roselyn name.

And so, in the brisk of night, she took one last look at the place she called home, then began her journey east, toward the treacherous wild.

* Moma is an endearing term used by children of the north western regions to refer to their caretakers, or milk mothers. (Non-biological mother)