Blackheart's history was as rich as any other kingdom that existed. Raised from a simple town to an overstretching kingdom by its heart and soul, Edward Blackheart.
A man of more words than actions yet capable of handling situations effectively. He'd steered his nation through thick and thin--stamping himself in history as one of the most reliable, just and trustworthy leaders before his untimely demise due to a heart attack one unfortunate night.
His legacy--a kingdom that was once a talk of all Calyndria for a lengthy period, was now a mere mirage of what it once was.
Corruption and discrimination reeked almost as much as the stench of alcohol within the throne room itself. For once, I was glad I had the damned mask covering my face.
After leadership had been passed down more than anyone could even count, the kingdom had seen any and all kinds of ruling. Many of which were less desirable compared to their predecessors. The current ruling was no different.
Sir Theodore Blackheart, fortieth ruler of the mining empire that was 'Blackheart kingdom' was no less than a fool crowned king. The towering stone statue that stood at the center of the city was enough of an introduction, along with its lengthy epitaph carved onto its golden plaque that sat at the bottom of it all. His ego was for sure larger than his own knowledge. So much so that the holy church itself had dubbed him as a stain on the Blackheart name.
Lance himself had this disgusted look ever since he'd stepped through the palace's doors. Disgusted by the 'stain'?
Though, that title had also been passed down across the rulers of Blackheart almost as much as the crown itself.
He was tall, slim, young and extravagantly dressed. A glass of wine in one hand as the other remained hidden behind his back. The look in his eyes was like that of a cat sizing up a rat, awaiting for it to make a single move as he paced around his throne room--his butler trying to keep up with his pace.
"Are you sure these are the people they had mentioned, Baldwin?" He let out with a nasal voice that easily ticked me off.
Calmly, the armored figure walked past us, bowing before he spoke through his steel casing.
"Yes, your majesty. We are certain of it."
A disgusted look then flashed onto the king's face before a sigh escaped him. He then took a large gulp from his wine glass before tossing it behind him, the liquids splashing onto his butler's face who rushed to catch the falling object.
"Filthy." He let out, taking a seat on his decorated throne, "to think we'd stoop to degenerate levels like this...hiring nobodies to save our skin."
Irritated...no, infuriated
Yes, that's the best word to use when describing how I felt.
Everything about him was anti-royalty. He seemed more like a nepo baby spending every dollar he could on his own luxury than an actual king running a well known kingdom. The look of disgust he'd graciously flash our direction left me even more infuriated.
My apologies for coming to the throne room as you'd requested, your majesty.
"Your highness..." Lance butted in, forcing himself to bow as he calmed his clearly growing disgust, "...what exactly might you mean, why were we summoned?"
A moment of silence was shared between the two before the man being questioned rolled his eyes and let out another sigh, reclining on his seat.
"Listen here you worthless bums, you're going to be working with my knights from now on," He barked out, silencing himself for a moment before nodding to agree with his own thoughts.
"Until your services aren't needed anymore."
"Working with your knights?" I protested.
The message was too sudden, we'd just made it to the damn kingdom yet all of a sudden we were working with the knights.
"In what world was I drunk enough to randomly accept this?"
Those final words seemed to have been thoughts let out loud because by the time I'd noticed I had actually said them, a blade's edge was firmly resting on my neck, ready to slice through me without any hesitation.
"Watch your tongue, foul peasant." Baldwin, the armored figure let out, leaning close enough for me to smell his offensive breath, "you're in the presence of Blackheart's ruler."
Ruler or not, I wasn't about to sit and have my choices dictated by some fancy asshole warming his chair with that smug look on his face. Working with his knights? Excuse me but I have far more serious matters to attend to.
That being said, there was little I could say with cold sharp steel on my neck. All I could do was tighten my jaw as I stepped back with my hands raised.
"Now, now, Baldwin. Forgive his foolishness for now," Theodore let out, waving his hand lazily with a grin on his face, "he is important after all."
Calmly, he finally stood up and examined his throne room. Like bugs exposed to light, the guards and council men who'd been quietly watching slowly exited the room. Leaving us with only Baldwin and his ruler.
"Now then, gentlemen. I believe I have some explaining to do."
And that he did.
Part of me predicted his words before they'd even gotten the chance to pour out of his mouth. I had Aeron's diverse knowledge to thank for that.
The only thorn to any Blackheart ruler's ass was the every growing rebellion that had evolved from simple protests to a full blown shadowy force--its power and influence gripping more parts of the city a lot more than they'd calculated.
So it didn't surprise me when the spoilt figure before us mentioned that we'd been brought before him to be officially included into his special army built to destroy the rebellion completely.
Why us specifically, I hear you not asking?
Apparently, a member from the kingdom's mages noticed a high amounts of magic and a terrifying pressure coming from our cart from the roadblock. That was enough to have them convinced that we were strong enough to handle a rowdy crowd.
Had they known that the pressure they'd experienced was from a mere old lady, I'm sure they'd have lost their minds. Hell, they might have even recruited her as well.
She was powerful, but it didn't change the fact that she'd gotten us into a major pickle. One that even Lance himself seemed powerless against. A holy knight would have easily gotten us out of this, but flashing his identity without a valid reason was against protocol.
Were it me in his position, I'd have been flashing my badge wherever I wanted to.
That being said, it wasn't a request and the king made it as clear as he could.
The armored powerhouse that had his blade on my neck was none other than a retired A rank hunter known better by his nickname 'The black hearted butcher'. His blade had seen more blood than any serial killer that existed--both human and beast. Were we to reject the King's quest, we'd end up being mere additions to his mountainous murders.
"Damn it!" Lance yelled out, slamming his fist into the wall.
The frustration had gotten to him--faced by clear evil that he wasn't allowed to exterminate and forced to do their dirty work. That was one pile of shit he wouldn't manage to scrape off his boots for a long time.
"Now that's motivating..." I let out, dropping myself onto our room's sofa with a relieved exhalation escaping me, "I'm sure punching wood's going to save our rear ends."
"Yeah, well its the best we can do at the moment." He responded, calming himself before sending a sharp glance my way.
"Again...another unusual occurrence that happened only with you around."
"No way you're bringing up your stupid suspicions in a situation like this."
"I was merely stating something peculiar," A smirk grew on his face as he turned his gaze away from me--moving towards the nearest window to take in some fresh air, "...but if it seems suspicious to you as well, perhaps I haven't cleared you just yet."
"Put a sock in it, Lance." I responded, reclining on the seat with my brows furrowed, "...you should be more concerned about the task we've been burdened with"
Those words seemed to hit the right spot, Lance's expression instantly turned back into his previous frustrated look as he stared out the window. I couldn't blame him for his frustration either, I was in the same spot.
Fighting rebels was one thing, justified if their cause is unjust--but wrong if what drives them is the opposite.
Blackheart's rebellion was well known at this point.
'The kingdom's second government' was what they'd call it. 'They' being the actual citizens of the kingdom itself and the traders who'd often come in and out of the kingdom walls. The only people they were a nuisance to were the people in power.
The rich, filthy drunkards that wore fancy clothing and looked down upon the very people they were chosen to rule.
The fact that I was forced to be on the dark side of this matter left a bad taste in my mouth. I would much rather stay out of it all than join them.
It was hard to imagine how that felt for Lance though. A holy knight wasn't just a simple civilian trained for a year or two to become the working force of the holy church, they were bred warriors.
Born and raised knights trained through the various challenging trials of the church itself to then be chosen as an official Holy Knight. It was why they were feared, they were born to fight for justice--yet here one was, being forced to go against the code he'd been raised with.
"We can't let this happen, Aeron." He let out, his voice nearly a whisper. As though he hadn't intended to let me hear them yet unable to keep them to himself.
"I'm with you on that..." I responded, entering deep thought as well before shrugging my thoughts away, "...but you heard the guy. If we even try and book it, we'll be dead before sunrise."
An A ranked hunter was no joke. Quite literally.
The only thing more terrifying compared to death itself would be crossing paths with an apex B ranked hunter and an official A ranked hunter. Those were leagues of power than no mortal being was capable of imagining.
Not to mention the one we were threatened with was none other than a swordsman. A feared class amongst all others, standing on the same pedestal as tanks themselves. We were fucked six ways to Sunday.
That is, unless a miracle happened. Or perhaps a curse befell both us and the ruling power of Blackheart's kingdom...the feeling that crept up on me felt more like a bad omen than a blessing.
The air in the room thinned down and a eerie chill sent goosebumps across my entire body. Hell, even my barely visible stache felt like it had ever tiny strand firmly stand. Lance himself felt this, his eyes quickly darting to the door as his hand instinctively hovered over his blade, ready to defend himself when needed.
A knock on the door then echoed on the room's walls--another two following after its predecessor hadn't been answered.
"Young lad..." A voice let out, its familiarity widening my eyes yet easing my initial tension, "...surely you won't ignore this aged one. It's a rather rude gesture."
Sure enough, once Lance finally swung that door open, it was none other than the old lady. Beside her was a hooded figure with a scaled tail poking out behind them.
Without communicating, the two silently made their way to the sofa opposite to mine before taking a seat--the old lady's eyes had been glued to me the entire time.
"Identify yourselves..." Lance finally let out, slamming the door shut before drawing his blade--its apex aimed at the two who didn't even bother glancing at him.
"Lance Evergreen and Prince Aeron Tylvannis..." The hooded figure let out, her voice barely a whisper, "I can see the Holy Knight's power clearly--but not the prince."
The old lady let out a chuckle which quickly shifted to a cough as she turned her gaze to face Lance, her presence easily chilling Lance enough to lower his blade.
"A Knight of the church and a storm in hiding...the gods have truly placed their pieces on the table today." She begun, shifting her gaze back to me.
"I am Adelaide Blackheart, grandmother to Theodore Blackheart and founder of the ongoing rebellion force within the kingdom."
Her words took a moment to process, but once they did, even Lance couldn't resist widening his surprised eyes. The fact that she'd spouted it out nearly at the top of her voice was even more astonishing, bigger balls than the son her child had given birth to--but the rebellion's leader in the same room as us, right after the forces they'd opposed had recruited us; I didn't like where this was going.
"I'll keep it brief lads..." She continued, leaning closer with a wider smile on her face, "...you now have to choose--cross the bridge, or swim."