Great Oak City, Ducal Estate.

“Duke Oakenshield, Taher has been detained successfully, albeit missing a few limbs.”

“Oh, Well done Mytheus. She’s lucky to be alive.” The Duke nodded and dismissed the secret guard. Taher and her King Aimon having been moved into inner bark facilities.

The Duke, his black hair combed back without a strand out of place, a necklace of oak on his chest adorned with a single burning crystal of green, brown, and blue. He stared down at his Children, Legitimate and Not, as well as his Incompetent Guard Commander.

“What Guard,” He chuckled darkly. The Commander knew not to speak and test his lord further.

“Tomin.” The Son looked up. “You look mighty well.” The Father smiled.

“Thank yo-!”

“Shut your mouth!” He punched his fist on the arm-rest, and the small mosaic tiles of his grand hall trembled. “You think I’m praising you? Incompetent!” The Duke held back on further remarks.

“The Soldiers praise you as a courageous Leader while the Farmers suffer and curse you as incompetent. A Village was destroyed. Too late to react as their own pets and livestock turned on them. Those that survived spread horror stories and those that died… well.”

“Then, there is you. Syvan. Oh Syvan… You got your mother’s beauty and none of her smarts.” Duke said and stared into his sons defiant eyes. “Yes, I know that hurts you. It’s meant to. You Syvan are at fault for all of this. I know.”

“What could you mean father?” Syvan asked, the fire in his eyes all but gone.

From behind the Duke a hidden door opened and out came a man in thick armor, pierced through his halberd was an Aimon. An Axlungus, with its mushroom bodies making up a wheel.

“We captured this fellow North of the Battle Area. He didn’t take long to divulge information.” The Duke said as the dying Axlungus screamed in pain one final time. It spat a fat glob of poison at Syvan with all the hate it could muster before a root descended and sucked it all into itself. It withered, fell to the ground, separated from the ceiling tens of meters above, and was picked up along with the corpse of the Axlungus.

Syvan remained there, trembling. His younger brother and the Guard Commander stared at him with all the emotions in the world.

“That is right Tomin. Your brother went out of his way to persuade this Aimon to act on his behalf. He riled up the Aimon to the West of the Burning region, a ploy by that First Prince as we’ve already covered, and hoped to come in and fix a desperate situation, completely ignoring the passive spread of Aether in and the limitation of the Hard Oak.”

“You Three do remember that the main reason we can Export the Cleansing Orbs is because we have denounced our need of them, thanks to the Great Oak. Right? Or Am I dealing with complete and utter imbeciles?”

All three nodded.

“Then you ought to remember the Hard Limit. We talked about this. It’s the through-put rate of the Gathering Gardens? Nod if you understand.” They nodded again. Their heads bobbed up and down in fear and subservience.

“Syvan, since you understand. Since you know that in a battle of that scale, the Aether released from the attacks alone would be enough to overpower the surrounded Gathering Gardens. Why did you go ahead and help that Axlungus sent by the First Prince? Did you perhaps want to have a stake in the Fire Aimon Breeding Company that stupid woman wanted to start?”

Syvan shook his head fast enough for his eyes to roll in their sockets.

“Oh, you didn’t? That’s weird. Then did you do it to take your brother’s position as Heir?”

“Brother!” Tomin stood up, his eyes seeing red.

“Not only that! But you did without planning for it either. You lucked upon a chance to ruin your brother and threw caution to the wind like the damn full you are, you sad bastard!” The Duke raised his tone his eyes burning with green fury.

Syvan cowered, his baleful eyes gone, only a sad beaten puppy out in the rain remained.

“And you have the gull to show up before me and ask for mercy! You stain! You should have killed yourself the moment you arrived here to apologize!” The Duke thundered the Ducal palace trembled.

“What where you doing before that!?”

Syvan opened his mouth, “Don’t speak, Insolent Cur! I know what you where doing! Chasing after that Emeramantis Queen that belonged to the Jeweler boy, and why did you do that? To get on my Son’s good side, because you, Tomin are a fund embezzling full. A whore’s son! Stupid like your mother and all those that came before her. Damn Lineage. You’ll be the end of us all if I ever allow you take power as you are. Both of you will be severely punished. I do not know if you shall ever recover from this.”

“Father!” Tomin crowed, choked up.

“I am barely your father, boy. You’re lucky to be alive. Keep that in your heart. Both of you. As you are now, nothing of mine is yours. Not my Land, not my Aimon, not my People, not my Honor, not my Name.” The Duke declared and turned to the shaking commander of his. He chuckled darkly.

“Commander Garin.” The Duke merely said and the older man understood. He stood and punched the young heir in the back of the head, smashing his face into the ground before taking out his sword and smashing the guard of the pommel into the side of Syvan’s skull.

“Sufficient. So you can get the job done. Why did you let the princess… be Kidnapped? The First time is almost more ridiculous, an attempted assassination, which her own Guard stopped, and then twice a Kidnapping.”

“Sir! There is no Kidnapping! The first time we were chasing her as fugitive! She used the opportunity of that Myron’s identity to trick us and escaped!”

The Duke shook his head and that was enough to make the old guard shut his jaw.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“What matters is not what you think, or know. What matters is what the Imperial Family heard.” Then the Duke’s old green eyes snapped at the gates of the massive hall. They opened and from the other side stepped a mountain of a man.

“Holdyr.”

“As you would expect, Good Duke, the Emperor heard the Worst.” The Mountainous man responded, his voice far away and deep. It echoed in the tall chamber like a rumbling landslide far away.

“You grace my Halls with your presence, Great General Holdyr.”

“Think nothing of it. I am just a tool, one that aims to take back the princess and bring her captors to justice. For the Emperor.” The man stepped alone yet the ground shook as if he were many. He stopped right behind the Old Guard Commander, a proud warrior that had fought alongside the Duke for decades. He reached up to the Great General’s thighs.

The man was giant through and through, standing at near 6 meters tall.

“Will you departing immediately?”

The man nodded. “My men are waiting near the West Gate.”

“Take those two with you.” The Duke pointed with his chin at his sons. Their eyes fell, nothing remained inside of their empty husks. That is how they felt, and the Duke knew that, a dark glee tried to overwhelm him in that moment but he schooled his face as he waited for Holdyr’s response to absolutely shake them.

“They have Aimon, do they not?”

“No.” Syvan whispered. Tomin didn’t understand.

“That’s right, your Red Army is one consisting of Pure Human Soldiers.” The Duke said and Holdyr nodded slowly.

Syvan shot up, he didn’t even look back as he ran away.

“Well Holdyr.” The Duke stood up and walked up to the Great General of the Red army and shook his massive hand. Syvan was smashed into the ground in a pool of blood by a massive foot of roots and then healed to health.

With the backdrop of his screams, his whole body wrecked by the pain of near death, after the fact, the Duke completed the Punishment of his two sons.

“They don’t anymore.” Holdyr smiled.

“Terrific. I’ll forge them into sons you can be proud of.” Holdyr boomed, picking up Tomin in his massive hand, and Syvan in the other. As if they were fruits he would take part in later on.

They left.

Only the Duke and his long time trusted subordinate remained.

“You will have to be trained all over again, Soldier. The Great Oak Guard is temporarily abolished. The Roots Policing Force is created and you are one of its members, a founding member, but a rookie none the less. You and all your men too. Of course, you won’t be placed together. You’ll be lucky enough to share a home in the barracks with an Aimon. A companion to feed you Aether. Treat them well. Work hard and earn back my trust. Become better than you where before.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Push Myron! Push!” Rhamon shouted, his tail whipping him in the arms as he crumbled to the ground.

“It’s not enough! Get up and give me weighted squats.” He ordered and forced Myron to stand. He grit his teeth and felt the rocks tied onto his back resettle, nearly pulling him down with them. He spread his legs wide and slowly dipped into a squat.

“I said all the way down! Look at how Mery is doing it!” Rhamon commanded as Hana sat on a cut up log and munched on some nuts she had apparently carried with her, for an after breakfast snack.

Myron looked to Mery, cursing inside of his mind at the pain, and all the sweat dribbling down his body. She was hungry for more weight, gritting her teeth through it all and moving her body with precision even as she carried a massive piece of Earth above her head.

“Good Mery, drop into a horse stance and hold it.” Rhamon smiled and then turned to Dakini.

“You’re not doing enough, you tricky fox. You’ve changed form again, don’t think I wouldn’t notice.” Rhamon chided.

Myron looked and noticed - if barley - that the back of her knees and lower in her calves something was bulging.

“Transform into your Monster Form, flare out your dark energy, strong enough to bust you into the air, and hold that. And keep your tails tucked around your body too.” He said, presumably because he would be able to tell if she changed her form more easily in her Kitsune body for whatever reason.

“Myron drop down and get into plank. I want ten minutes out of you, and then you’re finished for the morning.” Myron nearly cried right then and there.

“Don’t whimper. Die sitting in Plank if you have to. Just hold on for ten minutes.” Rhamon jumped ahead of Myron, stealing the relief of whining from him. So Myron just bit his lip and suffered through it.

Trembling from the feet to his core, and to his shoulders. His elbows dug into the earth where rocks and other things dug into his flesh, pressing up against the bone.

He couldn’t even spare a look to Syl. Who had just returned form a massive sprint.

“Now we fight.” Rhamon took out his sword and stood in a stance. Syl attacked him ineffectively. With both her claws brought out, standing on solid ground with both her legs. She cut and pierced, and cleaved, yet nothing worked.

Her breath was short, she was growing sloppy. Rhamon, of course, didn’t miss it. “Sloppy! Too soon!” he went on the offensive and pummeled her. He cut her leg open, she faltered on her next step. She had nowhere to go, stepping on her bad foot, and thus out of strength to leap away.

He shattered her claw and then raised his hand in a telegraphed attack. Syl brought both her hands above her head and faced the slicing sword head on.

It fell upon her thrice with heavy thuds, before her knees gave in, her shoulders failing her and letting her hands fall weakly to her side.

“You’re dead.” Rhamon said and kicked Syl into the ground before straightening and accepting a towel from Hana to wipe of the sweat. He let his numerous wind blades clashing against each other drop and the soft breeze that had permeated the meadow, helping Myron fend off against the worse of the sweat, disappeared.

By this point Myron’s vision was swimming. He almost gave in.

Rhamon softly knelt beside him and placed his hand below his belly. “Suck it in. That’s right, Good.” He pushed him back into perfect position.

“Why do you train?” He stood and asked. Everyone listened but none turned to look at him. He scoffed with joy.

“You will never reach your potential if you don’t train with Purpose. That is the first thing my instructor told my cadre of Trainees.” Rhamon walked around and examined Dakini, and Mery slowly, carefully.

“We were the cream of the crop. The greatest amongst out peers. We had gotten into the Program through sheer effort and where ready to fight each other to the death to be the very best. That is how we were raised, that is the only way we would be able to see the outside world and leave the stables.” Rhamon continued.

“We thought we had enough purpose. We truly did.”

He slammed his heels together and stopped. He stood straight still, a thing which didn’t seem possible. His nose flared and his voice picked up.

“Not enough! Calves the lot of you!” He summoned forth the spirit of his instructor. “What do you thin you’re here for?! Answer me when I speak!” The instructor’s voice thundered. Hana stopped munching, her eyes boring into Rhamon’s back, a great sadness growing inside of them.

“You are to become the Strongest Kentauros to have ever existed and then Protect the Imperial Family to your Dying breath. You will become the Strongest, and you will still die one day. It is a guarantee. So your purpose is to Die for those you will vow to protect.”

“You won’t die in slaughter, to become meat for grand dinners and rich guests, you have grown beyond that. You have shown that you are more than that. You’ve already passed through two phases of Training, one when you where mere children without thought, and then one where you where chosen from the riff-raff. Now you face your final test. These years will be hell, so to give you courage for that hell, the Fourth Princess will be here tomorrow to show you what you are going to protect.”

Rhamon stopped and turned to gaze at Hana with loving eyes.

“I’ve never looked back since.” He continued, his voice soft, he looked tired. “I ignored everything else in the world but my purpose. Here I stand. 18 years of age, after 4 years of training and 2 years of service, teaching you all the methods that I was taught. I want to make it worth your while and all the danger we are putting you in.” Rhamon said.

“Find what purpose you have and focus on that. If you aren’t willing to die for it then my methods will be ineffective.” Rhamon said and dismissed the training.

Myron slowly but surely let himself fall to the ground. His joints uncomfortable in movement. He lay his face on the grass, his eyes gazing North.

Rhamon’s powerful voice bouncing around in his skull-chamber.