Chapter 2: The Last Blood

A blood-stained banner hung weakly and unsteadily upon a wall. Its colors were that of black and white, and within the center lay the crest of a black-furred lion.

Bodies of servants, soldiers, and knights of the stronghold were strewn about— their bodies treated less like humans and more like discarded dolls.

A soft thud, almost soundless, echoed amongst the resonant clangor of iron and steel.

A black haired and black eyed child collapsed to his knees, all around him a blaze of fire releasing sweltering, melting heat.

And yet, neither the infernal flames, nor their toxic fumes, did anything to spark a sense of urgency within the young boy.

His eyes stared lifelessly at the sight before him. There, amongst the ruins of a once great hall, were the corpses of his brothers, his sisters, and his mother. Red ran like a river through their disemboweled, delimbed, and/or decapitated bodies.

BOOM!

An explosion shook the walls, quickly followed by a spurt of blood that streaked across the air, splattering against the grey walls.

The last remaining banner of House Tor fell from its proud height, and so too did its last knight.

Just a few meters away from the ghastly sight of a hill of corpses, stood weakly a man clad in the colors of the royal family. He breathed harshly— the toll it had taken to fell a Lord-Knight, was no small amount.

In fact…it could be said to be momentous.

There, at his feet, was the young boy’s father. Both his black metal armor and white-striped cape were now stained in red. Around the single man’s body, lay a corpse sea of a hundred royal knights, each one who had been a champion able to level a small town— were now all lifeless corpses.

Again the royal son reminded himself— strength, and power, were separate from moral virtue.

Leonel Arituel was a Lord-Knight capable of combating entire armies— vanquishing tens of thousands of men, fleeing when he wished, and coming back to rid of what remained. An illustrious, prestigious, and beyond powerful duke under the crown…and he was also a traitor.

At least— that was what his father said.

What his…father said…

A look of deep contemplation appeared on his face…interrupted by a sudden movement in his peripherals.

The blonde knight looked up, seeing a black-haired child stumble backwards amidst the ruins and flames.

No doubt, it was one of the traitor’s sons, now his only son.

He called to mind the law, as it was written and decreed by generations past. The consequence for betrayal, for treason…was harsh, not just of death, but bloodline extinction.

—sigh—

The royal prince— a son in his own right, had to fulfill his duties. Exhausted but driven, his sword dragged itself across the floor, scraping stone with sparks, and corpse with red alike.

Not long did he arrive before the boy, who still sat motionless and wide-eyed, frozen in fear.

The prince-knight raised his blade.

“Though your blood is that of a traitor, you need not suffer long.” The blonde man said. His voice surprisingly holding neither contempt, nor derision, but instead…genuine compassion, and an absolute belief in his idea of righteousness.

The blade fell down.

CLANG!

The prince’s blade failed to strike flesh— metal met with metal in a resonant hum, and the clash of two blades resulted in a strong gale that swept through the once great hall.

It was evident that the powers that met, were of no small achievement.

The ring of flames consumed the wind, ultimately fanning the inferno, and causing the surroundings to glow with a hellish, ruinous light.

A tall and stalwart man placed himself between the last living child and the prince-knight.

A shadow cast itself on the young boy, granting him shade in the same way a towering tree did from the sun.

“What do you think you're doing, Marquis Young?”

“My sword fell out of its sheath— apologies.” The stalwart man said shamelessly, betraying his imposing figure.

“...What are you doing? Your royal highness.” His tone changed instantly, sounding only nominally polite.

“I am exacting law, and justice.”

“Justice…?”

“How is slaughtering a child justice? What wrong has he done?” The marquis’s tone was calm, and yet on the edge of patience.

“His blood is tainted, carrying the sin of betrayal in his veins. Law demands it be washed away.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Laws…Laws be damned! What sort of law claims to hold justice and demands the blood of innocents!?” His shout echoed through the great hall, causing the ruins to shake, and the flames to flicker.

“Watch your words, Marquis.” The prince-knight said with an icy bite. Unseen, his will and emotion spread too, and the raging inferno all around them dimmed for a short moment.

“The laws were written by my father, his father before him, and my own ancestors.”

“It…is…tradition. Generations before me have followed and abided by it, and I—”

“I…too shall uphold it.” The prince-knight’s voice was hesitant and faltering, his words and tone stumbling to come upon his own resolution.

At that moment, a disjumbled clutter of iron footsteps approached the end of the hall. What was merely echoes were now heavy thunks of stomping metal.

Judging by the never-ending sounds of battle outside, these knights were also of considerable strength and skill. Each one wore colors of a different house, meaning they had cut their own path through individually, and not by relying on an alliance of combined military strength.

It was no surprise then that each individual was of great renown, all recognizable by the prince-knight, but only two were familiar to the stalwart man.

The six knights scanned the situation— just judging by their body language and their opposing positions, it was clear that the prince and marquis were at conflict…maybe even a confrontation had already occurred.

Their eyes placed themselves on the child behind the marquis, and the child’s black irises wandered over to the six individuals in turn.

None of them were fools, they easily saw through the situation.

As for the kid, seeing the arrival of six unfamiliar men no doubt only made him more fearful.

…Although he really should have started running since the Marquis clashed swords with the prince.

A genius swordsman versus a prince taught solely by the best— what was once a stalemate would now be decided by the will of the other six men.

“Leave, child.” Marquis Young said.

The boy’s eyes naturally wandered over to the holder of the voice.

“Run south.” He spoke with his back turned, and though the young child would eventually forget his face, he would never forget that strong, and unwavering back.

Presently, though, he still had not moved. It wasn’t unlikely if he was still in shock.

“Go. Now!” The stalwart man’s voice rumbled throughout the hall— raw mana evidently amplifying its booming sound as it shook the surroundings.

The young boy finally reacted. Taking one more look at his dead family and destroyed house, he turned around with tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat. His legs ran with force he never before displayed, and he disappeared from behind a tall iron door.

A knight that wore the colors of red and brown shot after him— his movements as a two-hundred pound human being were on par with that of a fired bullet.

…And yet his path was still blocked by the well-timed placement, and gleam of a blade.

Usually the brown-clad knight would cut his way through without even asking; as he so often threw around his weight and status without care. Many commoners and even lesser nobles fell victim to his…violations.

Yet he looked at Marquis Young with wariness.

His next words came calculated, suppressing a vile grin he shouted “You dare get in the way of the prince!? Defending the son of a traitor!?”

“It's alright.”

The blonde knight stepped forward.

“Remove yourself from my path, Marquis Young.”

"And if I choose not to?”

“Then…you are also a traitor.”

“Do you not hear yourself!?” The stalwart man said, exasperated.

“Hundreds of thousands dead throughout this city, millions to starve— what evidence do you even have of the Lion Duke’s betrayal!?”

“My father’s word! The king’s word.” He emphasized.

“Is that all it takes now? What investigations occurred— what of the necessary trials to deem him truly guilty? Was he ever even given notice, or summons!?”

The blonde man hesitated as he opened his mouth— he too was a knight who swore vows to uphold himself to truth, and fairness.

Were they simply empty promises?

By his father, the king’s word, lawful procedures were skipped and judgement came at an instant. Not long after was he, and all other noblemen ordered to march on the Lion Duke’s lands. Gossip and discussion of course followed, and yet invisible hands seemed to be suppressing any rumors of foul play, or the king’s use or misuse of power.

Everything about it reeked of suspicion, and yet, to suspect that the situation wasn’t all that it seemed, meant accusing the king of dishonesty, and worse, corruption.

Internally he struggled but ultimately…

Were the king’s words not truth? Was he not upholding justice? For the sake of his own identity, they had to be.

“It is…all that is necessary.”

The prince knight breathed in deep, “Stand down. I will forget about this momentary lapse of judgement.”

“And you will review the knight’s code and kingdom’s laws when we both return to the capital— only a month’s worth of suspension, for your intentions were…simply naive.”

“The prince is magnanimous!” The brown-clad knight said timely, although all he received was a cold, almost malicious glare from the prince…

He breathed in deep, “...Get in my way now, and I must deem you my enemy, and an enemy, of the crown.” Towards the end his voice layered and amplified, an element of undeniable authority was mixed into his decree.

The prince’s last words seemed not just meant for the marquis, as he glanced towards the six men behind him. Half of them, shifted uncomfortably.

The other three knights, made their decision in an instant. Opposing the prince would only bring them losses, and perhaps even ruin. While moving into the prince’s good graces could only benefit them.

They moved to the prince’s side, as his golden eyes looked over the remaining three knights.

That was when a knight clad in blue and white, stepped forward. “Young. We grew up together. Fought together. You’re a Marquis at twenty-nine— and just a step away from the realm of lords.”

“You could very well become a Duke in your lifetime, while becoming a lord-knight is just a matter of time.”

“Don’t throw that all away for the son of a traitor.”

With that, he joined the ranks of the prince and other three men.

The power balance was already set. Even if the other two joined the Marquis, it would still be five against three.

One of them bit their lip till it bled, before uttering “I’m…sorry.”

Another person who Young was familiar with, sided with the prince. How could he know that the debt of a life saved, would be repaid in this way?

Surprisingly…the last person to choose a side was a stranger, and much more, a commoner. He had the most to gain, and in shame, he could not help but think that if he had chosen the prince faster, maybe he would be rewarded with a noble title and some land.

He reached towards the cape he wore, before bitterly tearing it off his armor and joining the prince’s side.

Seven knights now faced one.

In such a situation, to yield, was to live.

“Back down.” The prince said once more.

“...Disappointing.” The Marquis spoke out unwaveringly, before the dust rose, and his greatsword started to vibrate.

The prince received his answer— he and the other six knights gripped their swords tightly. Seven energies clashed with one, causing the great hall to tremble.

Although the Marquis’s aura was denser and more powerful, it was still suppressed by the mana of seven other Champions.

Out of the seven, most looked at him with both pity, and respect. Defeat was certain, whilst death was likely, and still he had chosen to die for his beliefs. All to buy time for the child of a traitor to flee, though even that prospect was unlikely.

But then…the very stone fortress, started to quake.

Orange light twirled and shifted. Constellations in the shape of a tiger appeared and disappeared as mana at the level of intelligent thought burst out of Marquis Young, dominating the battlescape and releasing supreme, oppressive pressure.

Out of instinct, three of the seven swallowed nervously, while the other three trembled from fear, their adamantium armor clinking frantically.

Evidently…Marquis Young was not at the peak of Champion level, but had just stepped into the realm of Lords.

“Lord-Knight…”

Although the seven weren’t expecting an effortless fight— they weren’t expecting to be on the backfoot either. Seven against one? It was supposed to be two dire wolves facing off, although one had a pack, and one didn’t. The odds and scales were obvious…but now, they were against a tiger with newly born wings.

“Withdraw.” The Marquis’s voice bore down upon them like divine decree.

The six looked at the prince, and yet hesitation never appeared on his face or in his movements. He pushed through what felt like a wave of liquid iron, before launching an attack. The six men followed, already having chosen, and sealed their fate.

BOOM!

Behind a running child, an entire stone fortress shook.

Wherever a soldier or knight saw him— if they wore the colors of black and white— they readily gave their life to carve him a path. The loyalty and devotion they showed, almost made the king’s accusations of treason credible.

…Almost.

The child knew that he shouldn’t but he looked back anyway.

Although the stronghold was not made of adamantium, it was still made out of a mythical metal. And yet, most of the mile-long fortress was annihilated in the battle with his father, and now what remained shook violently.

He clenched his fists, before turning away. It went without saying that he was weak and powerless, he could change nothing and only welcome death.

He ran and ran, even as the air depleted from his lungs and his muscles started to burn.

Lonely and now truly alone, the black-haired and black-eyed child disappeared into the dense and dark shadows of a forest.