The man beside Calder began loading his crossbow. His shaking hand made it difficult to load the metallic bolt. A quick yelp exited the man’s mouth as a projectile appeared in his skull. He collapsed as Calder felt cold air rush past him. The glint of silver armor passed his peripheral vision as several soldiers sprinted by. They slammed into Godrick, pushing the large man back. The shock sent Calder’s blade flying from Godrick’s hands.

Each soldier briefly took a step back to assess the damage done. A sword protruded from Godrick’s flesh as one soldier desperately tried to withdraw it. A heavy breath came from the injured man almost as if it were the growl of a wild animal. A hand came down on the soldier’s head. The armored man panicked as he continued to try and withdraw the sword. He flailed about, yet Godrick’s grip tightened. The metal helmet crumpled inwards, and blood flowed between the gaps in Godrick’s fingers. The group of Obsidius soldiers stepped back again, this time in fear.

“Bring in the Ballista!” Neal stood at the entrance and waved to the men outside. “Hold the seventh knight off till then. We must not let our prince die!”

“For the king, for the prince!” A shout rose around Calder as the soldiers regained their courage.

Calder’s knees shook as he stared down into a pool of blood that had begun to form around his feet. Save me? Die for me? I failed. I should bear the consequences. He opened his mouth to shout, but it felt as if his tongue was caught in his throat. This killing. This death. All this kingdom wants is death. Why do I deserve to be saved from the embrace of death? At that moment, the sounds of battle intensified as Calder trembled at his thoughts.

Other members of the Hand of Obscurses lept from behind the overturned tables to join the fray. Godrick charged, grabbing the unfortunate soldier in front of him by the neck. With a loud snap, the soldier’s body went limp and then was tossed aside.

“He’s a monster,” a young man stammered. He jumped when one of his companions placed a hand on his shoulder.

“The seventh knight we face here is just a mockery of one of the King’s knights. The Hand yearns for what they lost long ago,” his companion replied with steady confidence in his voice. “How can we call ourselves warriors if we can’t even face a mimicry of real power? We must hold.”

The young man swallowed his fear and slashed at an oncoming attacker in a patchwork cloak. He glanced at the prince and frowned at the broken figure. A short blade came for his abdomen, yet he sidestepped it and stuck back. The towering figure ahead was still ripping apart men with his bare hands.

A bellowing shout came from the entrance. “Duck!” The young man put his hands over his head and squatted. He heard a piercing sound above him cut through the air, then the thunderous crack of wood snapping in two. When he looked up he saw Godrick’s body sprawled across the overturned tables. Splinters of wood had exploded across the floor. A large wooden pole protruded from Godrick’s chest. Every man on the battlefield stood in silence as Godrick desperately gasped for air. His breath soon turned to a viscous gurgle as he choked on his own blood. Then, it all suddenly stopped.

Calder gazed at the scene around him. His face was drained of all color and his eyes were devoid of all emotion. The piercing stare from the prince froze anyone it passed. “Are you done?” Calder mouthed. With ghostly movements, his sight drifted to the other side of the room. “Are you satisfied? Have you spilled enough blood to quench your thirst?” He forced a pithy laugh. “No response!” He swung around and opened his arms to invite anyone to speak. “It seems you have. I thought it nigh impossible!”

“My prince, we should get going.” Neal crossed the chapel and had now removed his helmet.

“Yes,” Calder took one last look at the devastation. His jaw quivered as he stained the floor with his crimson footsteps. “It seems my task is done.” Calder’s voice began to trail off into anxious mumbles. “It's done, isn’t it?”

The two of them walked in silence as they made their way down the church’s stone steps. Another garrison of troops stood outside, ready to join in at a moment's notice. Neal raised his hand to signal the fighting was over. Several soldiers relaxed their stance. The commander surveyed the prince from head to toe before speaking. “This is not your fault, my prince. The Hand of Obscurses cannot be negotiated with. I was planning to charge the church before I received a direct order from your father.” Neal scratched the back of his head as a look of concern appeared on his face. “Honestly I don’t know what the king was thinking. He is often a man of action. This just seems uncharacteristic of him.”

“Yes, it does,” Calder muttered. He breathed a sigh of relief and let out a meek smile. “Neal, I will report back to my father. Make sure to clean up the last of this regrettable mess.”

Neal thrust his hand to his shoulder and bowed. “I wish you goodwill in all your endeavors, and may the light shine on Obsidius.”

“May the light shine on Obsidius,” the prince repeated back.

With that last gesture, Calder took off again towards the palace. A direct command from my father, he thought. What would be the purpose of having me negotiate with traitors to the crown? Did he know this would happen and that these negotiations would end in disaster?

The charcoal walls of the palace stood with indomitable strength. Calder gazed up at the ramparts and the pointed towers above him. How will I phrase this to my father, he thought. Thinking of that man sent shivers down his spine. The doors in front of him opened and he stepped inside. Each of the guards gave a salute but Calder was too preoccupied to give any gesture back. As he walked down the hall he came to a split. He lifted his head to determine his path while his chest tightened in anxiety. The children, Calder’s heart dropped, I have to check on them. Yet ahead of him was the path to the throne room. His father would be expecting a report and any other action would be deemed suspicious. The hidden room in the east wing pulled at him but he fixed his mind on the task ahead. Just one more thing, then I’ll go check on them.

The hallway began to widen as Calder approached the throne room. The arrow slits that were present on the outside walls of the castle had grown to wider arched windows that let in pools of natural light. A red carpet with golden highlights now covered the stone floor. These halls felt eerily silent as the carpet dampened Calder’s footsteps. A few servants and a couple of nobles passed him.

“Why is he only telling us now when she left nearly three months ago,” one of the nobles whispered sharply.

Another noble responded in an equally hushed voice. “I knew that royal witch would bring us trouble one day. With her crafty nature, Ekburt should have seen this coming.

Their conversation became inaudible as they turned a corner behind Calder. It seemed his father was having troubles of his own. The thought briefly comforted Calder but soon faded like the sparks of a flame. Two doors about 3 times his height marked the entrance to the throne room. A man was imprinted in their metal framework. His proud face was hammered into the metal and he stared up at a spear in his hands. The spear was not too different from the one on the door to his father’s bedroom. The man’s feet were firmly planted on the triangular head of a large beast. Faralanther was the name of the man and that beast was the titan Obscurses. Calder never knew what to make of the mural. To most of the kingdom, it presented a scene of triumph over man’s greatest obstacle. While others, like the Hand of Obscurses, saw it as the fall of man. The tale was so distant now Calder was sure no one had the whole truth of it. Despite that Calder couldn’t help but feel an iota of respect for Faralanther. With one fell strike he had taken the future of humanity in his hands. The prince stared down at his own hands. They did not look like hands with the strength to do such great things. Perhaps one day they will have the strength to shape the future. With those hands, he pushed open the doors to face his father.

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The throne room was a spacious half-circle that was capped with a towering dome. Columns symmetrically placed held up the enormous ceiling. In between each column brilliantly colored windows decorated with the kingdom's history reflected off the polished marble floor. Calder saw that the nearest window left of the door had been covered. If he remembered correctly that window had a mural of the immortal witch Maeve. She was a figure full of so much mystery Calder wondered if that was even her real name. That must have been what the nobles were talking about, he noted to himself.

The throne towered above anything else in the room letting its observers know how much they paled in comparison to it. Ten cushioned seats for the heads of noble houses sat on each side of the throne. All of them were currently empty as it seemed his father had just dismissed them from his previous meeting. Three heavily armored knights stood on each side of the throne. The place where their eyes should be only contained void. Beneath their helmets, it seemed as if the void was desperate to get out. These were the real knights of Obscurses. Calder could feel their oppressive presence despite only six of the twelve being present. Their power used to be wielded by the ancient titan but that power had passed on to the first king of Obsidius and his subsequent spawn. The king sat with an elbow resting on one of the arms of the throne and a knuckle placed under his chin. He had a general look of displeasure.

“My son,” his voice boomed before Calder had taken more than a few steps into the room. “We have much to speak of. I hear you have struck a deal with Mareion, and the incident with the Black Hand of Obcurses has been resolved.”

Calder paused a moment before responding. “Yes, Father. One of the knights of that cult was killed during the incident. This will certainly deal a heavy blow to their organization's structure.” That was the best news he had, it was better to start with that than anything else.

The king nodded, but the scornful look of displeasure remained. “This treaty,” he continued slowly, deliberately drawing out his words. “It is quite a grand proposal. A city-state on the border of Mareion and Obsidius.” Ekburt removed his hand from his chin and gripped the arm of his chair. “You mean to give up our land instead of gaining our enemy's territory? What has this war been to you? I will not stand this. Our people with not stand this!”

“But father with this, our people will have no need to fight Mareion again. This will heal the deep wounds this war has left.”

The king thrust himself up from his throne. “You do not know war. The death of Regala will not be forgiven easily.”

Calder's emotions had boiled over, he could no longer contain them. “You say that name. Yet you hold no respect for it! This is what she would have wanted!”

“Do not speak to me about what she would have wanted. It is those vile fiends from Mareion that killed her and it is them that should pay the price.” The king began to walk down the steps below the throne. “You have no respect for the people of Obsidius. It seems so easy for you to trample on their pride. Like the simple shopkeeper, you had arrested early today.”

Calder felt his throat tighten. His eyes widened with fear. He knew he had let his emotions overtake him when issuing that order and now he was about to pay the price.

The king sneered at the expression on the prince’s face. “You think I don’t know your dealings. That man was wrongly accused by you and you know it. But my question is what would prompt you to take such drastic action?”

Calder shut his mouth at the accusations. His left pointer finger tapped at his thigh as his mind raced, searching for a way to respond. The king continued towards him until he was only a few paces away. Without waiting for Calder to respond he raised his voice, “Bring them in!”

The doors behind Calder creaked open as he heard several footsteps messily enter the room. He turned to see two groups of soldiers. One group surrounded the Mareion Nobles and the other was with the shopkeeper.

“Let this be a lesson, my son.” Ekburt reached out his hand to retrieve a sword a soldier offered him. “The people of Obsidius. Those who have remained loyal to the crown for a millennium deserve respect. Due to that loyalty, the words of a royal have weight when spoken to one of his subjects. The sentence for killing another is death. Is it not?” The king felt the cold steel in his hands as he weighed the sword. “Yet as the ruler of this nation, I believe this man should not die. After all, it was only a Stellapuer he killed.” Sunlight flashed off the sword as the king raised it with his right hand. “But the fact still remains. You issued a sentence of execution. So someone must die if the words of the royal family are to be believed.” He stepped towards the Mareion nobles and two soldiers brought forth the oldest among the group. “Perhaps one of them should suffice.”

“But the treaty father. We are so close to peace.” Calder’s voice quivered as he searched for any excuse to stop this. “You kill him now, all of this will be for nothing!”

Before Calder could say another word his father swung the sword down and severed the head of the Mareion noble. The noble’s body fell as it was drained of life. The sound of his flesh hitting the floor reverberated throughout the room. Blood stained the floor as the old man’s head rolled a few more paces.

“Why Father? Why!” Calder held back tears of rage. “You let me negotiate with them! Was this your intention the entire time? Was this the same reason you sent me to negotiate with Hand of Obscurses? All so you could justify your acts of violence!”

The king sighed as he handed the stained sword back to the soldier. “Calder, I am paving the way to glory this kingdom has never seen. The strength to claim the future is something few people have. Faralanther knew this and took action. He had the fortitude and foresight to know what needed to be done.” He turned to glare at Calder. The strength in his eyes pierced the prince’s soul. “You have shown me that you possess neither. You are simply a weakness that must be removed.”

“It is a shame, you are my only son.” With another heavy breath, Ekburt’s face sagged. He cleared his throat and then parted his lips to speak. “I hereby decree that Calder Falker, the prince of Obsidius, the only son to Ekburt Falker the fourth, is presently and forever exiled.”

“Father. You have to understand this is absurd. This . . . this can not be. You have no other heirs. You are dooming the royal lineage to destruction” Calder began to approach his father to continue his protests, but several hands latched onto his arms. “Unhand me. I am the prince of Obsidius!”

“Cease this shameful display.” His father frowned at him with judgemental eyes. Those eyes contained unadulterated contempt. That look angered Calder more as he increased his efforts to escape the soldier’s grasp. “There are so many things you do not know, my son. So many things you could have inherited had you prepared yourself in the proper time instead of being caught up in your idealistic visions.” The look of contempt changed to disillusionment as the king lowered his voice. “Oh, the knowledge of this world I could have shared with you. The truth of the Stellapuer. The duty of our royal line. Yet all of that knowledge would be nothing in the hands of a man like you.”

Calder could feel the strength in his arms beginning to fade as more hands reached out to restrain him. His father turned as the doors of the throne room shut in front of him. Calder finally relented and went limp in the soldiers’ hands. Through the strands of hair that now dangled in front of his face, he peered at the face of Faralanther. Those lifeless eyes gazed at his pitiful expression. It almost seemed like they carried the same disappointment his father had. Accusing him of his weakness. Calder wanted to retort back against the metallic stare, yet he lowered his gaze. Tears began to well up in his eyes. It's unsightly for a prince to cry, he thought. It won’t be long before Eren, Ahri, and Lilith are found if they are not already dead. I couldn’t even save them much less the entire kingdom.

Even the soldiers felt ashamed as they carried the weeping prince down the hall. It was not long until they reached the outside. A horse-drawn carriage waited in front of the palace. Calder willingly got in and stared down at his hands once again. What will these hands shape now, he wondered.