First book of the Return of the Darkness series
Author: Marcus K. Reteike
Hello! My name's Marcus and this is the first complete chapter of my novel (1.0 – 1.3). For certain purposes I've chosen to remove /withhold the prologue, as I feel that it's more mysterious to find out what happened without it. I was also kindly told that it was boring. And I agree. It was. Therefore, it's gone. For new readers who don't quite understand how everything hangs together; Don't worry, you will find out as you read..! Thanks for reading this. I hope you'll enjoy this compiled chapter. Until later ~
Every line that severs the text, like the one below, is a sign of change in POV – Point of view. Feel free to either comment in the comment section send a pm if there's something you'd like to ask about.
----------------------------------------
Jason hunched down on the chair, jerking the flagon upward. After taking a mouthful, letting the strong liquor clear his dry throat, the young man tied it to his waist again. The brothel was open the whole night, and he had just arrived. There weren’t many visitors, but what can one expect from the suburbs.
As Jason sat in deep thinking, the brothel owner came over. “Would this young man want try our local ale?
“Is it strong?” Jason replied. “Will it make me forget?”
The brothel owner furrowed his brows. He had watched the young man for quite some time, and he couldn’t exactly figure him out. The young man’s skin tone was too dark for a beroner, and that white hair seemed to originate form the chaotic east.
“What’s the matter young man? What weighs you down? the brothel owner asked. He handed Jason a glass of apple-ale and sat down opposite him.
Jason peered up the bar owner, quickly inspecting him up and down. A local bar owner. Fat and weak and probably not someone you want to meet in a dark alley at night, I guess.
The young man removed his gaze. He swung his glass in small circles, answering the brothel owner in a chilly tone, unfitting for his age. “Certain knowledge can cost one's life.”
“Eh?” the brothel owner gave Jason a surprised look, which soon turned into anger and fear. But the man quickly laughed it off, his facial expression quickly very mild once more.
“Hehe, I apologize. We don’t often have visitors here in this god-forsaken place. Once we do, we do get rather curious whom we’re dealing with, since we wouldn’t want the wrong people here, now would we?”
As the man said his last sentence, a look of hostility could be seen in his eyes.
“But what gives you the right to invade my privacy?” Jason payed no head to the brothel owner’s obvious threat. He continued to swing the glass of ale, looking into the swirl that spun faster and faster for every swing, seemingly thinking back in reminiscence.
“What?” the brothel owner had enough of this young man. To return goodwill with hostility, how could one accept that? And being nonchalantly at the same time? “Give me that glass!”
Jason felt something touch his hand. He instantly reacted and grabbed it.
“Arghh!?” a shout returned Jason to reality. He opened his eyes and saw the brothel owner twist his face in pain. Jason looked back to his own hand. It held the brothel owner’s hand tightly.
“Sorry…” Jason let go of the brothel owner’s hand. The brothel owner backed away. His was face full of fear. He pointed at the door. “Get out of my brothel, just get out.”
Che, I said sorry. Jason poured the last drop of ale into his mouth. It was quite strong, he even felt it slightly burn. It gave him a soothing feeling.
Jason tightened his coat and shot a glance to his waist. Flagon Check. Sword. Check. Only after confirming the two did he calm down. He left the brothel.
The rain made the mud outside soft like clay. It was nearly ankle-deep. If one wasn’t careful, one might slip and get hurt. Jason walked out and strode to the path leading out of town. He had enough of this place.
Sigh. Jason stopped in his tracks. “Come out.”
“Ooh, you discovered us?” Nearly ten men, maybe eight or nine, walked out from the shadows. The men’s faces were adorned with cruelty, malicious intent flashing through their eyes. Daggers gleamed in the moon’s illuminating light.
“What do you want?” Jason coldly asked. He knew what they wanted. They were the scum of the wastelands. Robbers, thieves, rapists. If they weren’t out for money, which usually was the case, they just wanted to enjoy themselves.
The man who seemed to be the leader laughed. He was followed by the others, together breaking the rain’s pounding with laughter. “Give us all your valuables and we’ll let you keep you life.”
“And what if I say no?” Jason reached for the hilt of his sword. He wasn’t ready to give up his valuables to petty thieves. He needed them for his task and couldn’t afford to lose them now.
“Then we’ll take them by force.” The leader smiled. “Men, attack.”
The blood red moon shining brightly in the sky made the blood-curling screams that could be heard throughout the town even more frightening. No one dared to step out from their houses this night, everyone was afraid that whatever was out there would come for them and send them onward to the next life.
“Before you die, answer my question.” Jason towered above the leader, his sword was placed at the man’s neck. It was ready to cut at any moment. Once it drew blood, it would kill. “Who sent you? Was it my mother? Or my brother? Who was it that sent you?”
The bandit leader cried. His tears made the mud even softer. He knew that the young man in front of him would kill him. Why did they choose to attack the young man, why didn’t they just let him go? If the bandit leader could reverse time, he would definitely have done it.
“You don’t want to say, huh?” Jason sighed. Well, I'll find out soon enough.
A gurgle broke the silence. The bandit leader’s limp body fell down to the ground with a low thud as the sound of footsteps leaving the town was heard in the dark night.
----------------------------------------
Oliver crossed the street. The night was dark, the winds were chilly, and his sole purpose now was to get a drink. The tavern, however, was lively. The terrible news of princess Jennifer’s death had soon been forgotten, as most other things in here were. The beer’s fault, Oliver presumed. He never often went to places like these, but drastic measures has to be taken at desperate times. It was the one thing he learned from his damn father.
“A jug of honey-tinted malt.”
“It’ll be right up, young lad!” the bartender replied.
Oliver squirmed himself down on the chair. It had been a long day. A long week to be correct. Painful memories were brought back as he thought about it. Jennifer. His first love, the woman he wanted to spend his life with. She had died. And it crushed him quite brutally, it really did. The scene where he promised to help her escape from the castle, to let her be free, it shone so brightly in his mind. What was he going to do now? He gave his word. But he failed. He’s a failed man. And a failed man is useless.
“You alright?” A voice disturbed his quiet pondering. Oliver looked up. He truly didn’t expect what he saw. It was a young man. The young man held a flagon in his hands, and marks were etched onto its exterior. It seemed strangely old.
“You seem sad, don’t you. Here, this will help you forget."
Oliver was in a trance. He looked at the young man, then at the flagon stretched out for him to grab. Oliver took it and put it to his mouth. It burned. The liquor was like fire to his lungs. Coughing a bit, he squeezed out. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” The young man replied.
“Why do you think I’m sad?” Oliver asked and gave back the flagon.
A slight, yet distant smile appeared on the young man’s lips. “I can see it in your eyes. Those dead eyes, I wore them once too. When I lost someone very important to me.”
Oliver stared blankly for seconds. He looked down to his feet. Tears were about to swell up, but he immediately tried to suppress them. Pull yourself together, Oliver.
My eyes, huh? He closed his eyes, trying to forget what he forced himself to bury.
“Haven’t you heard?” The young man took another sip. “They are the portal to one’s soul.”
“Yeah. So I’ve heard.” Oliver chuckled.
They continued to sit in silence until the young man spoke again. “Why don’t you tell me. It will feel a lot better. I promise.”
“Hmm.” Oliver hesitated. “Fine.”
“You know princess Jennifer who died recently?” It was to hard to hold back the tears. “She was the love of my life. We promised to get married and have kids. I loved her with all my heart, but someone took her from me. And I don’t know who it was, but I want to find this person, and I want to take revenge with my own hands.
“I see.” the young man nodded. “I wish you the best of luck. I must go now, but I’ll surely see you around.”
The young man rose from the chair and began to wiggle out from the bar. He was clearly quite drunk from his liquor. Oliver struggled to his feet. “Wait!”
“Hmm?”
“What’s you name?” Oliver asked the young man.
The young man smiled. “Jason. My name’s Jason.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
----------------------------------------
Henric Regan sat on his throne. He had a rather bad taste in his mouth which didn’t quite want to disappear. He held a wine glass, occasionally lifting it to his mouth and drinking. Henric’s current appearance was unlike that of his normal. His brown, curly hair was sweaty, and his eyes were bloodshot red.
“Your majesty.” a servant came inside the throne room. The servant’s attire was very luxurious for a servant. It was Henric’s personal servant.
“What is it?” Henric asked coarsely.
“Your majesty, the envoy of Turman is here.” the servant kept his head down as he spoke. It was only proper etiquette for servants like him. “They request an audience with the king. What shall I say to them?”
Henric cursed silently. The envoy was here? What was he supposed to say, and what could he do? Even if he let them in, what point was there? But even so, Henric couldn't refuse the entry of Turman’s crown prince. That would be akin to slap them in the face. Fine, I’ll let them in. I wonder why they are here. For Jennifer?
“Let them inside.” Henric said.
“I will do what his majesty says.” the servant bowed and scurried out.
A few minutes later, the door opened again. Dozen of people walked inside.
“King Henric Regan of Beron.” A youth with thick eyebrows kneeled before Henric. His clothes were clearly very expensive and not something a commoner could afford even if he or she worked for a lifetime. “My most sincere condolences for your loss.”
“Crown prince Amar of Turman.” Henric nodded to the youth. “What owes me the pleasure of you visit today? I presume you didn’t come here only to give me your condolences?
The crown prince laughed. “Your rather straightforward, aren’t you, your majesty?”
“Come to the point Amar.” Henric furrowed his brows. “I’m not in the mood for your mind tricks.”
“Very well.” Amar stopped laughing. His facial expression became more serious. “Have you found out who killed her?”
“No.” Henric took another sip from his wine glass. “There were no signs of breaking in, and not a single guard noticed anything out of the ordinary. But we found the knife, so we know how she died."
“Have you investigated the guards then?” Amar asked. “It would be quite easy for one of them to sneak inside her room, wouldn’t it? If I were you, I'd–"
“You're not me, Amar." Anger flashed in Henric’s eyes as he heard Amar. "Why have you come here Amar. Only to question the loyalty of my guards? If so, I find your presence… not welcome.”
“Pardon me, your majesty. I held no meaning to offend you, or anything of the kind. I simply sought to find out who killed my betrothed.” Amar said. “Furthermore, father king gave me a mission, which is why I came here.”
“Continue.”
“I was told to ask your majesty if he would allow me to stay in his kingdom and train.” Amar explained. “He wishes to propose an exchange so to say. I will stay here, while one of your sons will go to Turman.”
“And for what purpose?” Henric was suspicious. Why would the king of Turman want this? Was there some ulterior reason to this?
“To shorten the distance between out two countries of course!” Amar’s eyes got serious. “The chaotic east is boiling. I feel that something is coming. Maybe what happened to your daughter had something to do with this. My father wants for Beron and Turman to work together. To minimize the casualties in the future."
“Very well. Send word to your father that I have accepted his offer." Henric gestured for a scroll and ink to be presented. “My first son isn’t in the country at the moment, so I will send my second son to travel to Turman. Is that fine?”
“Of course, your majesty.”
“Good!” Henric signed the scroll and handed it to his personal servant who then gave it to Amar. “Is there anything else you’d like you to discuss?”
“No, your majesty.” Amar bowed and said. “I thank your majesty for his time. I shall return to Turman with good news!”
Henric watched the envoy leave his throne room. Humph. They surely have something up in their sleeve. I’ll have to tell my Gregjoy to be careful and immediately report to me if he finds something suspicious when he travels Turman.
----------------------------------------
Jason woke up in the dawn. His head was heavier than lead. Where am I? He inspected the surroundings, they were blurry. The alcohol wasn’t out of his system yet. Jason heaved himself up, supporting himself by pressing down with his arms on the bed’s frame. A bed? To his side, on the bed, he could see the outline of a woman. Covered by the blanket of fur, she lay on her side.
Black hair. Short and messy. Exquisite neck, white and slim. Looks like I struck jackpot yesterday.
He inspected the room. It was small with thin, grey walls. Poorly made. Putting the pieces together; the woman, the scent of wine, and the small and room– he was at a brothel. Though, he couldn’t remember getting here. I really need to stop drinking.
Quickly, he hopped up from the bed. His clothes lay on the floor. The black trousers and white flannel shirt and pointy skin boots and brown coat. He dressed himself. The woman was still sleeping soundly, she wouldn't wake up until later.
The sun was slowly rising. The smiths were lighting their forges and the bakers were preparing their dough. The scum of society; Whores and thieves and pickpockets– they were all asleep and would not wake up until the sun went down again. Such was life for them, they worked in the darkness. They were the shadows of the night, shunned by those living in the light.
The castle was magnificent. It was built in Beron style, like much else here. Thick stone pillars connected the roof with the floor. The cold, but properly polished floor. The castle was tall. Beroners love tall things, especially houses.
“Halt.” As Jason came close to the castle, two guards stopped him. They wore steel armor. Thick and large boots. Crude leg plates . The chainmail torso detailed the crest of Beron– A falcon, proudly standing as it scanned the area of a big mountain. The guards had big, round helmets with two fierce horns on each side sticking out. Not only did the two horns inspire fear in the enemies, but they could also be used as mortal weapons if broken off.
“Good morning.” Jason said to the guards. “Where can I join the guard force? I’d wish to become a guard serving the Beron empire."
The guards looked at the young man strangely. His white hair made it clear he wasn’t from Beron, and his skin was a bit too dark. They furrowed their brows.
“You’re not from the country, are you?
“No.” Jason replied.
The guards shook their heads. “If so, you can forget about joining the guard force. The king only accepts those born in Beron. Outsiders or foreigners aren’t allowed
“Oh.” the young man sighed. “Is there no way for me to become a guard then?”
“Well... there is. But it’s a lot harder.” The guards explained. “Every month, the king recruits men and women to go to the borders of the kingdom and push back the savage clans invading from the south. If you show great merit, there might be a way for you to join the guard force. But there’s a high risk of death by going there.”
Jason lifted his one eyebrow. So his fears were right after all. It wouldn't be so easy to get into the castle as a guard. Could he sneak in? He could. But then his task would be very hard to complete. Dammit. I hope it won’t be too late by then.
“Where can I apply?”
“The city square.”
“Thank you.” Jason made a courteous bow to the guard and left.
----------------------------------------
“You dare to lay your dirty hands on me? You filthy commoner!”
Gregjoy shot his pointy-edged boot right up to the merchant’s ugly face. Che, useless piece of crap. He had once seen a man being kicked by a horse in the face. Well. He would make this one's face look even worse.
He laughed maniacally as he continued to beat and punish the man whom acted so disrespectful to him. How could he, the great Gregjoy, second son of the king, be treated like this? Being touched by a smelly merchant, a man without even the tiniest ounce of nobility. Utterly disgraceful.
“Take him away and hang him in the town square. When you’re at it, kill his family to0. No. I changed my mind. Hang them all. The kids and wife first. Let him watch, and kill him after.”
The men showed disobedience and fear from his words, but as they were reminded who he was, they immediately nodded and hurried off. Most were like this at first. But It didn’t take long until they broke. Everyone breaks sooner or later. It’s just a matter of time.
“You. And You. Come to me.” Two maids wearing cute, black dresses came over to sit by him on the couch. They were young and pretty, just the way he liked them.
He was in a small town actually, about to carry out the duty given to him by his father. To claim taxes was his favourite. No one would complain if he hurt anyone. Gregjoy could just blame it on that they were unwilling to cooperate, and he had to punish them accordingly. It was a shame they were so fragile though.
“M-my lord, my lord!” A messenger came stumbling inside the town hall.
“What? Speak.” Gregjoy ordered.
The messenger handed him a scroll. It was written with blood and marked with the royal seal.
"You damn old man!” He read it and cursed loudly. He flipped over a table. "Fuck!"
----------------------------------------
Later, I will make a character glossary + a map of the world.
Follow or favourite the story to see when new chapters some out. Ratings are highly welcome, and will receive my full gratitude. Thanks for reading this chapter!