I pulled hard on the reins when I saw the figure mounted on the path that led straight to my family's castle. A solitary silhouette against the cloudy sky. It was one of our warriors - leather armor, relaxed posture, still oblivious to what was approaching. A patrolman, probably on shift. But that didn't make sense.
That trail must have been heavily guarded. At least two or three men. And the posts I'd left behind were empty. Too silent. Something had happened. Or was happening now.
I squeezed my eyes shut and watched once more.
"They've surrounded my father." I muttered to myself, feeling the blood rush to my chest.
Without hesitation, I brought my hand back and slid my fingers across the bow. The feel of the wood was familiar, comforting. The bow was cool against my skin, but the tension in the air was hot, as if I sensed death coming.
I didn't bother to be discreet. Not anymore. At this point, any restraint would be stupid.
When the man entered my range - a hundred meters, maybe a little less - I let out a slow breath. I took aim. I aimed like someone who breathes. Like someone who lives.
And then I fired.
Pu.
The arrow cut through the wind like a winged serpent and lodged in his right eye. There was no scream, no crack - just a dry, muffled sound, like fruit being crushed. The body collapsed from the horse, inert, and fell to the damp earth. The animal neighed with fright and shot off into the forest, dragging the corpse by one of its legs.
I didn't react. I didn't need to. My heart was steady, my pulse calm. I'd killed so many times that death had lost its metallic taste. Now it was just... execution. A natural movement. Drawing the bow. Release. And erase a life.
I continued riding unhurriedly, but with watchful eyes. The castle loomed ahead, imposing even from a distance. Its structure stretched over twenty kilometers of land to the east of the city. The estate was vast, protected by walls, hedges and centuries of ambition. Although we were only in the first generation, the Rolsvince were already feared. And envied.
But all that... all the power... was about to crumble. I could feel it.
As I moved forward, I wondered what was going on inside.
At the back of the mansion, I could almost see - in my mind - the ornate dining hall, where the nobles used to gather for important meals. Surely the old butler would be there, sitting as usual, pouring wine and spouting old-fashioned nonsense about honor and legacy.
But it wasn't him I was worried about.
My eyes closed briefly, and I thought of the boy in the green cloak. The firstborn of the Primavera family. Count Renin's son. Hair as golden as southern wheat, eyes as green as new leaves. I remember that when I saw him for the first time, he looked more like a living painting than a flesh and blood being. And there he was. In the middle of my home. Eating quietly among my relatives. Bringing promises of prestige.
But I knew: prestige also attracts blades.
And now, as I rode in silence, with the smell of wet earth and death sticking to me, there was only one certainty in my mind:
Someone inside was about to die.
And if it wasn't my enemy, then it was someone I loved.
***
"The matter of that family has already been settled, I presume." said Philip, as he brought a juicy piece of meat to his mouth.
"Yes." replied the old Rolsvince butler, in a low voice. "Soon it will all be over. We'll invade with our troops; they would never have expected this attack from us."
Two Commander-level warriors flanked the young master. Since his arrival, they hadn't left his side for a moment. They always tasted the food before him, on the lookout for any threat.
Philip smiled faintly as he swirled the wine in his glass and looked at the ring on his index finger. It was an unusual piece of jewelry - a black centipede with a red head, biting its own tail. Dark. Intimidating. Almost alive.
The war began the very moment that ring reappeared. Since then, his family had done everything to cover up its appearance and eliminate any clues. Its value was incalculable - greater than all the treasures in the house combined. No wonder his father had moved heaven and earth to obtain it.
"We need to wrap this up before we go home." said Philip, still absorbed in the gloomy glow of the play.
Rillen. He was the only stone in the way. As soon as he was eliminated and his bloodline erased, everything would be settled. Philip had already moved the necessary strings: alliances, agreements, even a marriage commitment to the Rolsvince. Small sacrifices compared to what was at stake.
Then a bang interrupted the refined atmosphere in the room.
"FIRE! IT'S ON FIRE! PUT OUT THE FIRE, QUICK!" Desperate shouts erupted outside from the servants.
Philip looked up from the table, confused. An intense red light flooded into the room through the gaps in the door and windows. A pulsating, growing flash, followed by dry crackles and an acrid smell of burning wood.
One of the guards was already on his feet. The warriors' instinct spoke louder. Within seconds, Philip pushed open the door and stepped out into the courtyard, with the others following close behind.
As soon as they stepped outside, the horror was revealed: the warehouse was completely engulfed in flames. Flames were rising into the sky, spewing thick, black smoke. The servants ran in all directions, screaming, carrying buckets of water in vain.
"The warehouse is on fire!" shouted one of them, panting. "Old butler! The warehouse is on fire!"
"I'm not blind yet! There's no need for you to say that!" the butler exploded, his voice full of anger and frustration.
He then turned to leave, bowing his head slightly as a sign of respect to Philip. But just as he turned, he felt something hot splash onto his face.
Confused, he brought his hand up to his cheek. When he looked, he saw red running down his fingers.
Blood.
He looked up.
Philip was still there - or rather, his body. Standing motionless with an arrow through the center of his forehead. A faint green leaf glowed on his forehead, pulsating, almost alive. The arrow had gone deep into his skull. Only the feathered tip remained visible.
The young master's eyes widened in shock. His body fell backwards with a deafening thud.
Time froze for a second.
Then another arrow sliced through the air.
One of the Commander warriors tried to react, but it was too late. The projectile went through his chest with enough force to pierce his heart. He let out a roar of pain and fell to his knees, dead before he hit the ground.
The third warrior took a step forward, terrified. He tried to locate the shooter. But as he approached the window, a new arrow found him. This time, right through his forehead.
In less than ten seconds, the two strongest guardians and the heir to House Primavera were dead.
"MEN! FAST! A MURDER! THERE'S BEEN A MURDER!!!" screamed the butler in sheer desperation. The hoarse voice echoed through the courtyard like a broken blade, cutting through the chaos and smoke all around.
But no one answered.