“Barbarian.” said a young man as a smirk enveloped his face.

Blood flowed down his mouth.

His body was clearly beaten to a pulp.

Heavy iron chains weighed down his arms and legs.

The prison had just enough light from the candles for the chained man to get a glimpse of the man who was clearly the in-charge of the situation.

As the candles flickered, the man came into the light.

“Bandit.” A calming voice resounded from the man who had his eyebrows furrowed.

The atmosphere outside the prison and inside it were alike. A raging storm. Dangerous howling winds with a murderous rain.

The smirk of the chained man was clearly ominous.

“Prince Tagavor, the king requests your presence at the palace immediately.” said a slender, well-built man.

He wore a high collared navy blue colored long military suit, silver thread work, and a very distinct bejeweled brooch attached to the chest pocket with platinum chains.

The platinum brooch was a mighty eagle with wings spread out. As if it were in mid-flight about to catch prey. Within its eye, a blue diamond sparkled under the candlelight.

The national bird of the Kingdom of Azorthea.

“Keep an eye out on this prisoner. I doubt he can even stand after all that thrashing. But if he continues to utter rubbish, don’t hesitate to punish him. But just keep him breathing.” said Prince Tagavor and left with a group of crimson suited soldiers.

“I cannot believe you Markans abducted your own Princess. What a foolish move.” sighed the well built man, looking at the chained young man who was sitting on the floor coughing blood.

“Vardein.” The young man smiled maliciously despite the pain evident in his voice.

Vardien’s ears perked up.

“Serving the second Prince of Azorthea since the age of five. An impressive history of crushing the rebellion of Tretris and strategizing the war of Borack. Called the right arm of the Azorthea. And deservingly so.”

“But your habit of smoking the pipe. Tch, tch” said the young man pretending to be worried and shaking his head side to side

“How did you know of the smoking” Vardein, eyes wide open, had got up so hurriedly from his chair that the chair fell.

“You weren’t impressed how I know about you, but you panicked about that smoking?” the young man asked with a surprised look.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“You mindlessly rubbed off the ash from the smoke on the side of your trouser. You assumed since your suit is navy blue and the prison is dark so you could get away. The way the soot is smeared like a trail suggests you were in a hurry and didn’t want to get caught. I suppose Tagavor doesn’t like this habit of yours.” The young man pointed at the soot on his trouser.

“And change your after-smoke mulberry perfume to a clove-based one. The one you are currently using fools only idiots.”

Vardein reflexively smelt his clothes, checked his breath, and hid the stain with his long arms.

He was amused and slightly alarmed.

They were dealing with a brilliant criminal.

This man knew my name.

He knew about my classified works.

His information-gathering skills are excellent, and his senses functioned precisely even after such severe punishment.

Not good. Not good at all.

Vardein was a mysterious figure in Azorthea. Some thought he was a noble, some thought he was a bodyguard. He had a close association with the royal family of Azorthea. But not everyone could know his name, let alone what he does for Azorthea.

Whoosh and the winds got stronger and louder.

“This storm isn’t good for the eagles of Azorthea.” said the chained man looking out the window.

“Maybe it’s time that the majestic eagle befriends a lowly street rat.” He whispered.

Prince Tagavor walked through the large hallway of the beautifully lit palace with the loud thumping footsteps echoing throughout.

Azortheans were still known as the “Barbarians” to Markans.

Azorthea was a mountain kingdom. While the City of Marka was beautiful plateau with fertile plains.

It was said that their Azorthean origins were sketchy. The mountain clans would always be fighting amongst themselves to gain and establish power. But they were loyal to their king and their obedience was an asset.

But what Markans feared was their prowess and their appearance only added fuel to the term Savage.

But as they say, exceptions always exist.  

The palace maids were tugging on each other’s shoulders, whispering and gasping excitedly. Maybe one of them fainted too? The crimson uniform soldiers immediately corrected their postures and hushed the maids.

And they all flushed red when the man passed them.

Second Prince of the Azorthea. Prince Tagavor. In his prime of 22 years.

Towering over most of the guards, his long brown hair made him look like a lion surrounded by jackals. His body showed that he loved to scale mountains and win wars. His skin so fair that even the noble maidens of Marka would fall short. Handsome features, piercing brown eyes that could drill holes into your soul, and surprisingly plump lips that added a touch of femininity to an otherwise masculine face. He wore a majestic black suit with a silver black wolf fur coat draped across his broad shoulders. A long black cape fluttered behind him. His chest had the same platinum brooch as earlier but it was more expansive and detail-oriented. His waist was adorned with a silver sword with a blood-red diamond on the hilt. Dangling from the sword was a small white pearl tassel.

One could hear the background noise of screaming girls, boys, and minstrels playing their harps every time his hair swayed with the wind.

You could simply say that he was a beautiful and dangerous man.

Beautiful to drive men, women, gods, and angels to madness. Dangerous enough to make all of them kneel down at his feet voluntarily.

A deadly combination.

But marring the beauty were his perpetually furrowed eyebrows.

“Welcome, Prince Tagavor” said King Touba who stood under a crimson flag that had a white dove with golden seed in its beak. The king darted his eyes and fiddled with his hands.

“The kingdom of Thelebeta is forever in debt to you.” and extended his hand to the second Prince.

Tagavor shook his hand, and it was sweaty.

Yuck.

Tagavor grimaced.

Taking out a silk handkerchief patterned with small daffodil flowers, he wiped his hands clean. A surprising choice for a tough man who was called barbaric a few moments ago.

But Tagavor took pity on the poor king. The man had just lost his daughter.