The court was made up of the three Dukes and the nine counts of Katar. Each region, Seabo, Talawa and Cormac had their own Duke but only two Counts resided in Seabo. Five counts occupied Talawa, three of which was from the Capital alone. Although many had voiced concerns about the imbalance of power, the King had yet to voice his opinion. As such, the nobles in the capital held more power than any other noble in the Kingdom.

Erik had laid low at the academy for a few weeks, awaited news of the guard's death. Usually, it would have caused a ruckus in the capital, considering the guards were employed by none other than the court. While Erik had focused on his lessons, he had learned that the King's failing health had caused him to become withdrawn from the politics. Only showing his face for special occasions. Although he had no sway in the nobility circle, Erik had heard whispers of the King's heir being missing for more than 15 years.

Erik found it hard to believe. How could the most powerful man in the Kingdom lose his most precious heir, it made no sense to him. Furthermore, if that was the case, why had the King remained quiet about the matter? These were questions Erik had no answer to and thus placed it at the back of his mind. He was more interested in the whereabouts of his parents, or at least their burial ground.

It was close to midday when Erik returned to his dorm. Although it wasn't unusual for him to receive letters, he felt instantly gloomy and heavy when he stared at the letter under his door frame. He slowly grabbed the letter before sitting at his desk. He ripped the familiar seal from the scroll before he rolled it open. As his eyes rolled pass the words, so did the teardrops roll from his eyes. He trembled and lost all feeling in his hands as he continued. The scroll dropped to the desk as his glued eyes continued even still.

Lord Edard Tommel was dead. Erik had known this day would come. His grandfather had worked especially hard to raise himself to nobility. Despite the odds, he became the first commoner to be granted hereditary nobility, a remarkable achievement. Erik knew he was forcing himself to strengthen his legacy for his sake. A jolt of painful madness overcame him. Erik screamed out in pain as he ripped the letter to pieces. He pounded his fist on the wooden desk, causing small cracks to appear.

It wasn't until nightfall that Erik calmed down enough. In front of him, a broken desk and chair laid comfortably below ripped books and damaged quills. He could hear a distant sound repeatedly calling out to him. He slowly looked up with his bloodshot eyes to see his only friend at the academy, Brom Whitefield. He stood in front of the door, barring others from entering as he called out to Erik.

"Erik! Erik! What's the matter?!" he called out again.

Erik continued to look around him at his destroyed room. He could see cracks formed at the walls alone with blood. He looked down to see his fingernails partially ripped off with dried blood stain.

"Take me to the stables Brom," Erik finally called out. It was only now that he noticed how dry his throat was.

Brom quickly picked Erik up before shouting to the crowd outside, "Move along now, nothing to see here!"

He pulled Erik towards the stables before talking to the stableman, "Bring me two of your finest horses!" he demanded with authority as the stableman stormed off in a hurry. "Is it your grandfather Erik?" Brom asked with concern.

House Whitefield was one of the few Cleric houses within the capital. Baron Merek Whitefield had solidified himself as both the top cleric within the capital, focusing on his light element to heal rather than harm. Brom, in admiration for his father, had followed in his footsteps.

Erik ignored the question as he instinctively saddled up the horse before grabbing the reins and mounting. Without any delay, he steered the horse towards the academy exit, eliciting a loud neigh from the horse. It galloped through the streets before exiting the large, Cormac steel gates.

Gradually, Erik began to feel the burning in his fingers. He winced at the pain but continued north, towards Sydenham Town. The wind caressed his short hair and massaged his cheeks. Every so often he would hear a distant voice calling. He grabbed the reins tighter and forced the horse to move faster.

He could remember the moments he spent with his grandfather. The lectures and the stern teachings to be a better man. Not only did he lose his parents, why did he now have to lose his grandfather? Erik angrily forced the horse to move faster and faster. Life was unfair. Just as things were finally going his way, everything started crashing. He had managed to hold himself together after his parents left. In fact, he had managed to keep it together even after Khal's mysterious silence for more than a year. He couldn't anymore, everyone in his life kept leaving and he couldn't take it anymore.

"Erik!" A loud voice eventually called out from behind, forcing Erik to his senses. Shit, Brom? Erik thought before he slowed his horse down. In the distance, Erik could see a dust cloud raising, Strange, he thought. Usually, one horse couldn't raise that much dust. Slowly, Erik's eyes opened wide in shock. He quickly turned around towards Brom's direction.

He could see Brom's horse barely managing to stay on its feet as it tried its best to outrun those behind him. It didn't take long before Erik was close enough to see what was going on. There was Brom, an arrow sticking out of his shoulder as he tried his best to stay on his horse. By the looks of it, the horse was even worse off, part of its ear was mangled while its hind legs had exposed flesh hanging off it. Slowly, Brom slid off his horse, landing on his side.

"What's the meaning of this?!" Erik screamed to the three men behind Brom.

"Haha, brothers! what do we 'ave here? it seems that more than one rabbit has gone astray. Ah reckon they're from thuh academy. What do ya say Buckeye?" The bigger of the three men said. They each wore worn out clothing that reeked of the slums.

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"Must be ya lucky day lads. The Wiley Brothers are here for the yellow ladies," chuckled the bucktooth one named Buckeye. He aimed his short bow at Brom's head, seemingly too giddy to do much else.

"We done struck it rich!" the smaller, frail-looking one said.

"Shut your hole Rusty, nobody be asking you tha obvious," grinned the bigger of the brothers.

"Wiley there ya gone again hurtin' me feelings," Twig responded depressed.

"What ya say, lads? Had over the yellow ladies and we be on our way." Wiley smiled with his chipped short sword pointed at Erik's incoming horse.

Erik came to a stop right in front of Brom before dismounting to help him up. "You alright Brom?" he asked quickly.

"I'm sorry Eric," Brom responded in pain as he stood up. He then threw a small bag of coins to the floor before adding, "That's all the money I have. Take it and leave."

"Smart lad," Wiley grinned before signaling to Rusty to pick up the pieces.

"Don't just stand there! How much is it?" Wiley barked at his younger brother.

"Still your horses Wiley, uh, one, two, uh, what comes after two?" Rusty scratched his head while asking.

"Gimmi that!" Wiley shouted. "Hmmm, this only be for one life lads."

"We've given you all we have," Erik said calmly. He had already wasted the little patience he had. He was both irritated and ready to cut all three men down. Unfortunately, he had neither a sword or

"Ohh? By my count, it be short by half. Rusty, search him!"

Erik instantly kicked the man, causing him to roll over on the dirt. He was about to follow up with another kick when an arrow pierced through his arm, sticking out of the flesh. Erik groaned loudly as he breathed through his mouth. He quickly applied pressure to the wound while glaring at Wiley in hatred.

"The next time won't be so luck lad, pass the rest of the coins!" Wiley demanded as Buckeye nocked another arrow in his bow.

Erik allowed Rusty to search him. He continued to glare at Wiley intensely. "You'll regret this. Brom, state your name."

Unsure of Erik's plan Brom quickly did a military salute before shouting, "Brom Whitefield, firstborn of Merek Whitefield of House Whitefield."

Buckeye and Rusty instantly looked at Wiley, stunned and unsure of what they should do. "Ahh Wiley, Baron Whitefield be looking to cut our bellies. You said they were nobles from the north!" Buckeye whispered loud enough for everyone else to hear.

"Shut up! He's lying, nobles from the capital won't roam these parts alone," Wiley said, trying his best to reassure himself.

Brom quickly revealed his house crest, a silver staff, and shield.

"Ahh Wiley, I reckon we don't need these yellow ladies," Rusty stuttered as he backed away.

It was enough of a distraction for Erik to clad his feet before shooting off towards Buckeye. Too slow to react, Buckeye fumbled with the bow before he slipped off his horse. Erik broke the arrow shaft from his arm, cladding it and forcing it into Buckeye's eye as far as he could. Although Buckeye was strong, Erik's cladding had given him just enough to overpower him. The man barely squealed before his twitching body came to a still. Erik then aimed a kick at Wiley in a fluid motion, but the man was ready. He forced his horse to dodge the attack, causing Erik to expose his flank.

Erik balanced himself carefully, preventing his fall. He barely had enough time to block Wiley instinctive horizontal slash towards his flank. The blade cut a few inches into his flesh but luckily Erik's cladded arm was able to withstand the blow. "Cladding? Fuck you lady luck! Rusty don't jus' stand there, attack!"

Rusty snapped out of his stupor slowly, "Buckeye, still breathing?" Getting no response, Rusty closed his eyes and allowed one teardrop to form before instantly jumping into the fray. Although he only carried a small dagger on his person, he waited at just the right minute to attack. Erik was just in the middle of countering one of Wiley's slashes when he was left with little choice but to dodge. "Brom! A little help!" He quickly shouted to his friend.

Erik watched Brom standing, frozen. The blood draining from his face. Erik realized instantly that there was little Brom could do in this state. The shock was already too much for him to deal with. He commended him though, he had managed to stand if nothing else and without pissing himself to boot.

The three men formed a triangle as they stood expectantly. None deciding to make the first move. Wiley then jumped off his horse, it was both awkward to fight while mounted and his reach was affected by the short sword he wielded. "Attack him on me signal Rusty," Wiley said as he began to circle Erik with his brother. "Buckeye's dead. More yellow ladies for us," Wiley grinned.

"If Buckeye's life was so dispensable, how much do you think you're worth?" Erik stared at Rusty, hoping to drive a wedge between the two.

"Ignore him Rusty, Buckeye knew teh risks."

Rusty's face became unsightly. He rushed Erik before swiping with his dagger haphazardly. Noticing the openings, Erik capitalized with a flurry of punches and kicks that left Rusty on the floor. Erik was about to finish him off but had to sidestep Wiley's well-timed stab. Wiley clicked his tongue as brought his sword in front of him to block the cladded blows Erik unleashed quickly. Although Erik couldn't be considered fast, he always had an eye for the weakest points on his opponents. It was the one reason he was able to keep up with Khal so many years ago.

Under the pressure, Wiley took a few steps back as he bawled out, "Oi Rusty! We have ter avenge Buckeye!"

Wiley's words seem to affect Erik because Rusty came rushing towards him again, allowing Wiley enough room to get away from the onslaught. Erik was just about to engage Rusty when he heard a loud neigh. He spun around to see Wiley riding off, leaving his brother behind.

"Sorry, Rusty! I can't die here," He screamed as he rode further away. Rusty looked on, half expecting this outcome all along.

"Buckeye were useful, so he had value, ain't it? Kill me, me useless life has none," Rusty said as he dropped his dagger and stared at his dead brother one last time.

Erik silently picked up Buckeye's bow before nocking an arrow and pulling with all his strength. Erik cladded his fist to ease the pain in his fingertips as prepared to release the arrow. "Wait!" Brom shouted as he finally came to. "Do we need to kill him? He's already surrendered."

Erik stared at Brom. Although he was fourteen years old already, Brom had been pampered all his life. Living in comfort of the Capital didn't prepare him for the reality of the world. He couldn't blame him though, death was an uncommon occurrence there. Only those in the slums or the gallows would ever experience it.

"And what if he decides to stab us in the back as soon as we take off?" Erik countered.

"Uhh, well umm. We can take him with us, there are still extra horses," Brom responded as he pointed to Rusty and Buckeye's horses. Rusty looked towards Brom, his face showing his confusion then his uncertainty.

"Well, the sun has already left. I suggest we find the nearest village to rest," Erik said to Brom as he ignored Brom's suggestion.

"And uhh, the body?" Brom asked. He stared at Buckeye's corpse uncomfortably.

"Milord, would yer allow this unworthy one ter bury his brother?" Rusty pleaded as he bowed.

Erik wondered whether this was all an act to get them to lower their guard. He had killed his brother after all.

"As you wish, you can bury him at the nearest village," Brom responded as he grabbed Erik's injured arm. Erik watched, surprised as Brom removed a short staff from his inner shirt before a light orb floated out of it.

What are you doing?!" Erik asked as his body tensed up.

"Relax, no need to be alarmed, I'm a cleric."