Azareth steadied his blade. The battle wasn’t over yet, far from it. Even with death looming above him, he didn’t feel afraid; in fact, he felt more confident that he could win today. With the power of the artefact on his side, he was certain he could win. His body might be tired and his strength gone, but that didn’t matter. All he had to do was wait for the last wave of enemies to come. The princely training he endured was not for nothing. His father had promised reinforcements to come, but Azareth had assured him they weren’t necessary.

A loud horn sounded off in the near distance. The ground shook as the cavalry appeared. Azareth’s eyes went wide. This was not what the scouts said. The scouts said that the enemy had no cavalry, merely swordsmen and archers. The scouts said that the Kingdom of Helios would conquer the Holy Empire of Raus with ease. As the cavalry neared closer and closer to the prince, their kingdom’s flags whipped violently in the air. The colours on those flags did not match those of the Holy Empire. Those colours belonged to his kingdom.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. Either these were the reinforcements his father had sent, against his wishes, or they were traitors of the crown, or something Azareth had only heard in rumours and didn’t wish to be true. He would wait for them to slow down and kneel before him. If they didn’t, well, they were just like the enemy. He would crush them and then go to his father with the commander’s head. Surely a sight like that would prove his father’s innocence. If not, it was about time Azareth took on the role of king.

The calvary circled around him. The thundering hooves were like drums, sounding the call of war. Azareth raised his sword. If a fight is what they wanted, a fight is what they would get.

“Back down. I am your prince,” he commanded.

“A foolish one,” one of the knights said. He urged his horse forward. A smile crossed Azareth’s lips. It was the commander of these troops.

“Is that so, Commander Nero? And here I thought that you were the foolish ones. Surely you saw the battlefield you’re standing on.” Azareth tutted.

“I did. Quite an impressive scene you have made out of our enemies. A shame that you’ll have to be gone with them,” Nero said. A chuckle escaped his lips. “I’ve been waiting for this moment.” He unsheathed his longsword, charging at Azareth with determined ferocity.

Azareth chuckled, effortlessly sidestepping Nero's blade. Adrenaline surged through him, igniting a fiery determination. With a swift movement, he swung his sword, aiming for the back left leg of Azareth's horse. The steed collapsed, its rider tumbling to the ground in agony. Flames danced along Azareth's weapon as he pressed on, ignoring Nero's cries. Now was not the time to dwell on individual foes when the battlefield brimmed with adversaries.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The inferno spread, engulfing the surroundings as clashes of steel resounded. Azareth gritted his teeth against searing pain, his resolve unyielding even as weariness crept in. Fear should have coursed through him, yet it was eclipsed by a single-minded determination to end the conflict swiftly. Flames swirled around his blade, growing in intensity as they surged towards the oncoming knights and their mounts, engulfing them in a blistering inferno.

Facing Nero's accusatory gaze, Azareth remained unfazed. "Your father spoke the truth. You are a monster."

"Then I shall meet my fate without remorse," Azareth retorted, his tone laced with defiance.

In a fluid motion, Azareth extinguished the flames, delivering a decisive blow that severed Nero's head from his shoulders. With grim satisfaction, he lifted the trophy from the ground. "A fitting offering for my father."

The barren battlefield was Azareth’s home. He knew his father sent him to command armies and wars because he was capable of defending the land from foes. He knew that his father was afraid of him, he just didn’t realise how far the fear had come. A laugh came from him. He worked his way to prove he was more than capable of being the crown prince, but his father was so afraid of losing his position to him that he’d kill his own flesh and blood. Azareth couldn’t believe that his father had the gall to call him a monster when he wouldn’t kill his family. No, he wouldn’t kill his father. He’d do something far worse than kill him. He’ll make his father wish he never tried to assassinate him.

The field changed from red to green as he walked. Right now he wanted to get home, yet there was somewhere he needed to go first. Preparations needed to be made. His father declared war against him, and Azareth answered the call. He quickened his pace as he crossed over a hill. A smile graced his lips as he saw his black horse, Zura, unharmed. She was the best of the crop, and he was certain his father would have had her killed because without her, Azareth would have had a harder time getting places. Or maybe his father thought that Commander Nero was strong enough to slay him. What a mistake he made.

Zura nickered and ran up to Azareth. He ran his hand along her neck.

“Hello, girl.” Azareth set Nero’s severed head in a bag hanging off the saddle. He removed his helmet, setting it beside the head. He walked to the other side of Zura and opened the pouch. “Are you ready to go?” he said as he pulled out a waterskin filled with cheap alcohol. He took a large swig from it and put it back where it belonged. The liquor might have been cheap but at least it did its job like any other high quality liquor. The taste was abominable, but that was good. It kept Azareth from succumbing to slumber. He needed to focus on his goals. He needed to get to the nearest town and send his father the gift.

He mounted Zura and urged her forward. There was a town not too far away from here on horseback. Three day ride, one and half if he didn’t sleep. Nero was only the first of the assassins. Azareth knew his father would send more after he heard of the fall of Nero. There was no time to waste. With how sloppy this commander was, he wouldn’t be surprised if there was another assassin behind him ready to clean up the mess.

Azareth urged Zura forward. She galloped over the field, seemingly knowing the urgency in Azareth’s movements. Father can send whoever he wants, but he’ll never be ready for what I have planned.