Aaron:

I was sleeping soundly when an uneasy feeling hit me. Tossing and turning on my soft, warm, amazing bed - I was rudely awoken by the sound of the door crashing open.

Getting up in one smooth motion, one of my dustbin-sized hands already ready in a fist behind my back while the other smoothly guarded my front, I stood waiting for the attack.

Only for nothing to come but the heavily scowling visage of my Master, Sir Patrick Raul.

“Master,” I questioned, confused - For this was not how he usually woke me up, and taking a quick glance outside, I saw it was still nighttime.

In fact, as I checked the alarm candle on the bedside table, it seemed like not even half an hour had passed since I had retired for the night.

Alert now and having a premonition of danger, I stood straight while mentally cataloging where my armor and weapons were and in what condition - before fixing firmly on throwing all of them within the finite stone that my Master had given me for attaining knighthood.

“Get ready, now,” Master said tersely.

I immediately began bustling around, putting on my clothes and then my armor pieces, at which point Master began helping me to make it faster.

Eyes sharpening, I pondered as to what could be so important before gasping out, “War?”

“War,” replied Sir Patrick as he fastened the cuirass for his disciple.

“Hagarians?” I asked.

“Our own.” Sir Patrick replied.

“Why?” I questioned.

Pausing, Master looked at me in the eye before saying one word or rather a name, “Faustus.”

Suddenly the room became ominously quiet as a murderous aura began spreading before quickly being reined in.

Even faster, I began putting on my armor and within a minute; I was battle-ready.

Flexing my gauntlets, I looked at Master, who jerked his head to the room next door - our training room.

Following, I watched as he opened the passageway through which we avoid scrutiny and go to various parts of the city to practice incognito.

Soon, the passage closed behind us and the metalled footsteps of our boots were the only sound to be heard.

The silence was broken as I asked, “Why Faustus?”

“He was attacked. Ambushed by 5 iron-rank soldiers and then a silver rank.”

The sound of teeth grinding came and my fists were clenched so hard that the metal of the gauntlets was creaking.

“Condition?” I said with a tight jaw.

“Alive.” Sir Patrick replied.

Looking at me in admiration, he said, “That brother of yours took down all 5 of the iron ranks despite suffering a surprise critical wound from his ‘friend’ and then faced down the silver rank for 18 seconds. I don’t know how Leonidas trained that monster.”

Smiling fiercely with pride, I picked up on two key points. “What ‘friend’ and who saved him?”

“His ‘friend’ Paul and your father, Count Drayke, saved him once he heard the horn of valor blow.”

Stumbling, I grabbed my master’s shoulder. “The horn of valor blew?”

Wincing but looking at me with a fanatical look, my master said, “The horn blew loud and clear and it blew three times for Courage! Valor! Refusal to give in to fate!”

Sucking in a deep breath, I smiled in deep satisfaction before asking, “How bad is he now?”

Clicking his tongue in appreciation, Master said, “Leonidas used an epic healing potion and recovered his wounds. He’s being guarded by your parents right now.”

“What about that Paul?”

“Dead. Deianira killed him. He was an agent of Gon.”

Narrowing my eyes, the murderous aura that had been suppressed suddenly flared out momentarily again.

“Good, or I would have more blood on my hands in another few hours.”

“Oh, you would have blood on your hands alright. I don’t think things are going to be peaceful tonight.”

Eyes widening, I halted. “You said Deianira killed him? Was she the silver rank Faust fought?”

Nodding his head heavily, Master said, “Yes. That’s why I was so shocked. Both at your brother’s tenacity and the fact that the Royal Family have made a move.”

Slamming a fist into the wall, I exclaimed, “Bal! They target us when we go outside. They target us when we stay inside. But what did we do wrong? Why is the King so bent on harming us? The ones who have fought for him all this time in every single battle of the Kingdom?”

Looking at me somberly, Master said, “Faustus says the King is being framed. It might not be him.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s too directly related and that rules out the King and the prince.”

“Besides, the prince can’t possibly be so stupid as to have a conflict with Faustus and then have him killed a day later after having the conflict witnessed by the King himself,”

“Conflict?”

“Walk, I’ll fill you in.”

Listening, I threw my head back in laughter, “That Balakash deserves it. Strutting around and looking at everything as though he owns it.”

“Maybe, but things are troublesome now.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

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“To meet Galen,” Master said with a trace of apprehension.

“Galen? That monster?”

“The very same.”

“He won’t fight with us! Bal, he might even fight against us!”

“We have no choice. I gathered all the young ones and the good seedlings that we have in Draconis. They’re all in the labyrinth and heading to the south gate. I hope we don’t need Galen but we’re perilously short of knights who can lead the charge after the battle of Pyrrhia.”

Pursing my lips, I had to agree.

We lost too many men in the battle of Pyrrhia and 10 years was not enough to replace them.

We were born warriors, but warriors need time to mature too.

Most of the children were just barely awakened at the moment and the majority were pages or, rarely, squires.

Magnificent against mortals.

Cannon fodder for Knights.

“What about the army?” I asked.

“Can’t count on them to prevail against so many and we are not involving them if we can. They’re in the middle of the nobles' troops and they have families in Draconis that will suffer if we don’t evacuate them.”

“So what's my father's plan?”

“Pray Casimir is not the culprit and we take him hostage if he is before calling a gathering of the nobles and presenting the evidence.”

“Weak,” I observed after a moment of silence.

“No other choice.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s my brother they tried killing and they’ll regret it even if it’s the last battle that House Drayke fights.”

“What if it’s not the King?” I asked, after thinking a bit.

“Then we pray that whoever it is will sneak around in the shadows and not come to light this soon. Or else they will catch us with our pants down.”

Wincing at the analogy, I nodded and then tensed as sounds of running came from another part of the labyrinth.

Eyes widening, I went into battle positions, my silver warforce gushing out of my body and encasing me in more armor.

I was about to draw my sword when my Master tossed me a sword that Faustus would have recognized.

It was the same one that was in the center of the treasury and the one which had cut Faustus, thus unwittingly binding him to the Horn of Valor.

The Sword of the Drayke.

That was its name and smoothly catching it out of the air, I sucked in a deep breath before awe and determination in equal parts filled me.

Meanwhile, my master’s warforce flowed out forming knight armor that wrapped around him completely, and then peering out of the eyeholes of his closed helmet, my master drew his own broadsword before hesitating and taking out his longsword instead along with a buckler on his left hand.

“Close quarters confined combat,” He hissed at me.

Nodding, I experimentally swung the Sword of the Drayke and got used to its heft and balance while summoning my buckler.

Readying myself, we both waited, hearts pounding normally, calmly analyzing the footsteps that were drawing closer.

“2 men - being chased - 20-30 people behind them,” I calmly reported.

“2 men - being chased - 33 people behind them,” My Master rebutted.

Shaking my head, I prepared myself further for the tough fight that lay ahead.

Then the men rounded the corner and my master and I surged forward.

Not in time, though.

10 arrows flew down the passageway, striking the rearmost man, who spread his arms as wide as he could to block all of them.

6 arrows along with countless wounds littered his body that was more red than the black of his Knightly Surcoat.

Staggering backward, he yelled out, “Run, Son!”

The boy in front who had turned in time to see his Father riddled with arrows cried out in pain and sorrow before turning and running, only to skid to a halt as two fully armored men charged past him.

He watched as the archers sent another flight of arrows down the straight path, only to watch in awe as the two men danced between the arrows, catching those that they could not avoid on their small bucklers before they were amongst the enemy.

Powerfully swinging their swords, they slaughtered their way through in a second to the place where the archers were before going on a rampage, shoulder to shoulder, with each other.

The man in golden armor was fast and purposeful.

The man in silver armor was like an unchained beast, colossally powerful and domineering.

The two, in barely a few minutes, decimated the enemies and sent the survivors packing before flicking their swords clean of blood and striding back towards the boy who was kneeling next to his father.

Removing his helmet, Sir Patrick Raul looked in sadness at Sir Falmer, who was breathing raggedly.

There was a hole in his side the size of a bowl through which blood flowed unstoppably.

Arrows feathered him and countless smaller wounds scarred the man’s body.

Sir Patrick was about to unstopper a potion when Sir Falmer grimaced and said weakly, “it’s too late. I can’t be saved. I am a cripple now and of no use, even if you pour that potion on me. I burnt my warforce till my circulation veins were severed.”

Coughing violently, Sir Falmer bitterly smiled before reaching out a loving hand and tousling the boy’s hair.

“Damon, follow them and don’t forget about me. Avenge me if you can, but make sure that you live your life uprightly.” Taking off his ring and a badge from his surcoat, Sir Falmer shakily passed them to Damon.

Damon grasped them closely to him while tears fell constantly, but his face was set in stone. All gentleness gone from the childish face.

Taking in a rattling breath, Sir Falmer turned to face us and weakly said, “Everyone is dead. Pierre died at the hands of the mercenaries who had already been hired by the enemy. I was ambushed a distance away from the army barracks. They used all sorts of potions and poison that forced me to burn my warforce to escape.”

Grimacing, he continued, “I made it to the labyrinth, only to find that Damon had followed me.”

Caringly looking at the boy, he sighed, “These old bones would have gotten him killed if you two hadn’t shown up.”

Sir Patrick knuckled his face before he spoke. “Rest easy, old friend. We’ll see Damon to safety,”

“Help me sit up,” Sir Falmer said weakly.

I immediately assisted him into a sitting position and Sir Falmer took out a sword from a finite stone before laying it across his lap.

Then he tossed the finite ring to Sir Patrick and said, “Give it to Damon when things are safe.”

Nodding, Sir Patrick and I bowed down to the dying man and performed the Knight’s Salute before I grabbed Damon by the shoulder and steered him away.

We walked a few steps away before Damon turned and yelled with red eyes, “I will follow what you said Father, you can rest easy!” and then bowing, he walked in front of us with his head held stiffly.

Behind us, Sir Falmer watched with a gratified smile and then peacefully, he laid one hand on the tip of the sword and the other on the hilt before he waited for the enemies to return.

After we were out of sight, I quickly stopped Damon and took out armor from my finite stone.

Outfitting him, I asked, “do you know how to use a weapon?”

Looking at me in disdain, the boy replied, “I am the son of my father, the commander of the first army of the Draykes. Of course, I know how to use weapons.”

Rubbing my nose, I nodded before asking, “Which do you prefer?”

“A sword and a dagger.”

Nodding, I handed him the two from my finite stone before hesitating and taking back the dagger.

Quizzically, Damon looked at me, only to be handed a shield that had a spike protruding from it viciously.

“This might be better for the situation,” I explained.

Nodding, Damon accepted the shield before saying, “I’m an iron ranked 1 star. I can barely handle a silver rank now that I’m fully armed, but more than that, no.”

Smiling, I said, “that will be enough. This old man here -” I jerked my head towards Master who scowled, “is an army by himself.”

“Enough! Damon, are you ready?” Asked Sir Patrick kindly.

“Ready,” he replied with a steely voice.

“Then let us go!” and we broke into a run and rounding yet another corner, we relaxed a bit as we steadied our pace.

Only to pull up short as the tunnel in front of us filled with soldiers.

Bal.