Inside the golden gates of the royal castle, guards in polished armor flanked the grand entrance, their eyes sharp and watchful. Lucian and Haymond were ushered inside after Haymond presented his credentials and stated he had vital information about Prince Leonardo’s death.

Haymond stepped forward, bowing slightly in respect. "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice," he began, his tone grave. "I am Lord Haymond, and this is Lucian, a participant in the upcoming tournament. We have information regarding the tragic death of Prince Leonardo."

The official, who introduced himself as Lord Cedric, nodded for them to continue. "What information do you bring?" he asked, his voice measured but filled with curiosity.

Haymond took a deep breath. "When I first heard of Prince Leonardo's death, I was deeply troubled, as I’m sure everyone in the kingdom was. But what struck me as odd was the manner of his death—burned by flames. It’s a most unusual way for someone of his stature and skill to perish."

Lord Cedric's expression remained stoic, though a flicker of interest crossed his eyes. "Go on," he prompted.

"Given the prince's proficiency in both swordsmanship and magic, it seemed implausible that he could be overtaken so easily," Haymond continued. "Moreover, Maia, who stands accused, is known for her fire magic. It seems too convenient, too obvious. It feels like someone is trying to frame her."

Lord Cedric leaned forward, his gaze intense. "What are you suggesting, Haymond?"

"There’s more to this story," Haymond replied. "Maia may be a skilled fire mage, but her love for the prince was genuine. It’s hard to believe she would harm him."

Lord Cedric remained silent for a moment, contemplating Haymond’s words. Finally, he spoke. "The trial is set to begin shortly. If you have any evidence or witnesses to support your claims, now is the time to present them."

“When the tournament came, I usually just ignore it, but this time, I decided to join just to see if I could have a glimpse of the joy other lords feel. Having no reason to waste my own men, I hired someone to be under me, and fight for me. Lucian,” Haymond explained. “Did you know that he won the preliminaries, and beat even Naeve of the Eon family, and some very powerful people? Weirdly enough, he can use fire magic. What’s even more odd is that he was supposed to show up for a chat with me, but didn’t around the exact same time it was reported the prince had died.”

Lucian knew he had to play his part now.

He bounced back, feigning cautiousness.

“What do you mean to suggest?!” Lucian’s hand lay on his hips, ready to unsheathe.

Lord Cedric stood as did Haymond. Lucian could see the clocks turning inside of Haymond’s head, trying to sell it.

“My lord, I am at your feet, please punish me how you see fit, but I could not let the prince’s justice sit under the shadow of my impertinence,” Haymond exclaimed.

Lucian grunted and ran. Running would signal guilt even more, but it was also his best chance to escape. Though they would blame him, it did not mean he had to stay here and be captured. He could run.

Two guards blocked the doorway, cornering him. Their faces were scrunched and swords at hand, ready to cut him down if need be.

“Do not resist, and I promise you, it will be far less painful,” Lord Cedric told Lucian.

Breathing in, halted, Lucian stood, hands on the longblade. He closed his eyes, a brief moment of rest, before opening it and marching towards the guards, eyes seeing freedom ahead, and death behind.

The men were fearsome, but his will to survive kicked his adrenaline up to the max, while he swung with slick speed and ferocity. They fell like dolls, cut up and disfigured while Lucian kept running. The strength within him was invigorated by his death. It was just as he figured. The blade siphoned the vitality or strength within its prey and returned it to him.

He ran through the halls, seeing armored men in his pursuit. As he neared a corner, more men ran towards him from the front, and then to the side. He was trapped.

With nowhere to go, and men slowly trotting closer, swords held, it was do or die. Peering left at the painted windows, Lucian jumped, shattering through the glass as he fell through. Down below, it was a freefall that no man would ever survive. Lucian was not just a “man.” No matter how much he wished for everything to be over, and to have peace, he knew that he had to try. If not for himself, for Abenor.

While he fell from the heights of the castle, Lucian stabbed him longblade into the stone walls. Fortunately for him, the blade was strong enough to pierce through and slowly halted him. Looking down, it was a monumental task still. Up above, the guards were yelling and screaming at him. Some started to throw down daggers.

Shit, he thought as he jumped from the wall and scaled down using his longblade. He made sure to zigzag so it was harder for them to hit him.

After what seemed to be a very long time, he finally made it down, where a river ran through cutting the land the castle sits on from the woods. There was just one problem. There were men already position to where he would have to jump in order to safely get off the castle.

Lucian's heart pounded like drums. He already knew that if he was caught, there was no telling if he would die now or later, so he chose the option that made the most sense.

Die of his own terms.

From the walls of the castle on which he held on with his longblade, he jumped into the flowing river. If destiny were to have him, he would survive. If not, he would die. Better to die here if he did, than at the hands of those who would turn him out like a pig.

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He could see the surprise of the men below him as he flew across into the river. The currents were unusually strong and he could feel his body being pulled further and further in. Where it would lead to was not certain, but he knew it was better than the alternative.

Lucian held tightly onto his longblade, watching the men becoming smaller and smaller as he faded out of view.

*WHACK*

Trickling blood.

Lucian could see the water muddied with red. No, it was not the water he was in. It was land. The water came with him. On his left hand, a giant silver spear ran through it, pinning him to the ground like skewered meat. He winced in pain, confused, and heart racing.

Where did it come from, where is it?

He scanned across the rivers to where he could barely see anyone. Digging his free hand into the spear, he pulled it out and shouted loudly in pain. It lasted only a few seconds before it was healed like it was never there.

Now that he was on the other side of the river, he had the woods, where perhaps, he could have some time to hide and formulate a plan.

Quickly, he ran, clothes still wet from the river.

*SWOSH*

He barely dodged it. Another spear in front of him landed inches away from where he would have stepped. Lucian twisted around in apprehension and saw three men, riding in horses.

He recognized them. They were the legionnaires from the “Red Maiden” ship he was in. Why were they here? How did they get here so fast? Were they always there? No time to stop and think on these, Lucian sprinted for the safety of the woods.

They were not like the guards that stood near Lord Cedric. Lucian had seen them in action. No. They were different. He could not afford to be caught by them. Into the woods, he ran frantically, clutching the blade.

He had a few minutes on them. At best, they crossed the river and rushed to find him, but he would have made ground by then. Their horses could not cross. The river was too strong.

Lucian paused. In front of him lay giant trees, with dulled branches with few leaves. Where the woods led stopped him from going further. He felt an ominous feeling if he was to keep going. Lucian trusted his instincts and made another plan. A plan that was crazy, but might just work.

Instead of venturing deep into the woods to gain ground on the legionnaires, he stayed close to the entrance, hiding inside of a damp log. Ants and little critters crawled on top, while he waited, his breath soft.

Silence encapsulated the confines of the log. He awaited a signal, any signal. Minutes felt like hours inside, and when he heard the leaves outside rustling roughly, and pairs of boots running across them, he waited. It was them.

He waited for a while until he could no longer hear any traces of them.

Good, they’re gone.

His plan was risky but it seemed to have paid off. They would never expect him to be close to the entrance. It was madness. Now he could run off and follow the path of the river. Of course, he had to change his clothes and looks. Maybe cut his hair off with his blade, and strip to nothing but his pants.

Lucian ran out of the woods and stopped.

“You!” a voice shouted.

Right behind him, with striking distance, a legionnaire stood.

Shit, why was he here?

Lucian ran longblade to his side clutched. The man picked up his spear and hurled it toward him barely missing again. The spear twisted in the ground and flew back into his hands, where he ran behind throwing it again. Lucian did not dodge this one, but rather used his blade to deflect it, which turned out to be a horrible idea. The weight of the spear faltered the blade backward and pinned it to the ground.

With no weapon on him now, Lucian staggered, not wanting to leave it behind, but knew if he stayed, he had to fight.

The stories of the blade that Aric had told him ran through his head. He could not afford to risk the blade and his own life on his cowardice. Lucian used all his strength to try and pry off the spear, but it was tightly stuck, even more so than it had been on him.

The legionnaire approached, eyes fiery.

“We honored you! We trusted you as a good man!” he cried, frantically waving a sword. “I should have known from when I saw you get on from that god-forsaken place that you were trouble!”

The legionnaire pointed his sword at him and jumped to attack. Lucian fell on his back and rolled away behind the sword and spear.

“Why?” he said swinging, “Why, why, why!?”

Lucian could see the rage inside of him. He could use it perhaps. Since his sword was stuck, and he could heal, why not?

“Because I hated his face,” Lucian taunted. He did not know what, but the legionnaire seemed to have some sort of connection to the prince for him to be this emotional over it.

He had never tried it before, but it was the best idea he had. Lucian charged at him, not even pulling his dagger, as it eluded his mind that he even carried it. The vengeful legionnaire dug his blade into Lucian when he was close enough, right near the chest.

Lucian coughed up blood and smiled. He said, “The prince died like a dog.”

The legionnaire dug the blade in even more and came a breath away from Lucian, and replied, “You’ll suffer a fate worse than a dog.”

Now!

Lucian eased up and threw his right hand onto the legionnaire's face. His hands were engulfed in black flames. He threw his other hand right after it, lighting it on fire too.

“Gahhh!!!” the man screamed in agony.

He tried to wrestle Lucian’s hands off of him but to no avail. Lucian was not letting go. He could see the fear in his eyes now. The skin began to burn, giving way to the muscles, and when the fire touched the bare flesh, Lucian felt it.

The man slumped on his knees, and then to his face. He was dead. Lucian had no time to reflect or pity him. He pulled the sword out of his heart and sat back for a quick second. The wound was healing, but not as quick as before. He needed the blade.

The spear that pinned it was now flaccid, and he reached for it.

*THWOP*

Another spear pierced his reaching hand now as Lucian cried in immense pain. The other two legionnaires were running out of the woods.

Ah, fuck! Why does nothing ever go my way?

He was immobilized for a while. There was no time to even try to free himself.

“Brother!” one of the legionnaires wept while he shouted at the body. “Brother?”

He looked at the head, and then at Lucian. His eyes were red and full of hate.

Sparks flew. Lucian could barely make it out, but his life was close to ending in that split second.

“Stop!” the other legionnaire pleaded as he blocked his comrade’s sword from cutting Lucian’s head off. “I know you're hurting, but remember your place. He must answer to the king, and to the people. They deserve justice too. Please.”

“Please,” he pleaded again, a slight tear rolling down his cheek.

The legionnaire backed off and broke down over the body of his brother. He knelt, sobbing while holding the body.

Lucian knew his fate while he sat there pinned. It was a cruel jest to him. Bringing him to this world, making him suffer more. Would it have been better if he never came here? His nature was contradictory. He wanted to give up, but he wanted to keep going. There was an unease inside of him stirring, like an unquenchable fire.