"Not all hope is lost, child." The boy remembers his mother, a fierce woman of red hair and queenly stature, looking at him. Although she was a queen in name, she was warrior-bred.
"Sir Thames, take him to the Demimal border. You know where. The border is the last place he'll be safe in. Tell him that King Saber..." her voice almost broke from pain and sadness, "tell him that he has passed on to the higher realms."
The knight, with a distinguishable handlebar mustache, was terrified of the queen's orders. "But your highness, you couldn't possibly mean... to him? Surely there is a much safer place. To take the young master there is..." The old knight looked at the red-haired kid, who was weary. Although not harmed physically, the events that took place seemed to hurt him deeply.
"There is no time for consideration, Sir Thames." The queen's powers were seeping out of her. She was barely holding on, her blood slowly leaking from her side as she tried desperately to show her strong side to the little boy.
Sir Thames was an honorable Springsten. Born to a low barony, he wanted to fight to the death right here. He wanted to kill those traitorous bastards who murdered the king for the throne. But saving the heir to the throne, this little boy who was now passed out on the horse, was the first priority. And even more than that, they were now about to go to a place whose likeness is rumored that of hell. The kid would need protecting, and he was ready to die for it.
Two days had passed since the incident. Thames was certain that knights must have been sent after them after finding out that the prince was missing. And the queen, although deeply grim to think about, the reality was that she must have succumbed to her wounds.
The ride to the border was harrowing. Although they were only one day away from the border, their food was running out, and the kid, who was now sleeping, was muttering something in his sleep. Sir Thames' heart broke when he looked at the little prince. He remembered him being so bright, but now the boy had lost so much. Sir Thames was also a father, but he lost all three of his sons—one in the tragedy of Old Solstice and the other two in the wars that followed. Now he only had the duty, the duty to go to the border, and to convey the message to that man. A small chill ran down Sir Thames' body while thinking of him. He thought of giving the boy to him akin to taking a rabbit out of the wolf's den and feeding it to a dragon. But the queen knows him better than me, she must still trust him even after what happened, he thought.
"Slick!" An arrow went past his face and hit the horse. "Enemies," he thought, and sprung to protect the prince. Sir Thames unsheathed his sword, a silver blade with his family crest. A seagull could be seen—the last remnant of the Gull Barony, now desolate, and Sir Thames being its last descendant.
"Wake up, prince!" Sir Thames woke the prince up in a hurry. Still dazed, the little boy had no time to process as another arrow was aimed at him. "Slunk!" The arrow was deflected by Sir Thames.
"Cowards! Have you no honor, firing an arrow at a child? Come out and fight me!" Sir Thames knew that they had an advantage, as the area they were currently in was covered in trees, but his tactic of calling them out was to fight them head-on. Although outnumbered, questioning a knight's honor always works.
A knight wearing the Renatus royal emblems walked out. "It's a good thing I came ahead of the search party to find you guys." The knight wore a dark silver helmet and armor. He seemed to be of average height and had a crossbow strapped to his back.
"Search party?" Thames scoffed. "Your petty trickery won't work here. I can sense your malice when you shot those arrows." As the knight walked out, Thames seemed to recognize the man. "I know you. You're from the Ranger Corps of the army."
"And I know you, Ser Thames of the Gull, now charged with protecting the prince. But why? Why aren't you headed to the Arcnine Kingdoms, I wonder? If you wanted to keep the prince safe, wouldn't that be the best place for him?" The knight was seemingly probing his intentions.
"Or does Ser Thames fail at navigation? To go to the Demimal border? You know that they are savage beasts in the border, right? Although they are capable of speech, they are still animals," as he unsheathed a short sword.
"You traitorous bastard! You were supposed to protect the prince, not come here to assassinate him, following the orders of those traitors!" Ser Thames screamed as a fire of rage hit him. "Do you know no honor?"
"Honor?" the ranger asked. "If honor was left in this world, King Saber wouldn't have died so pitifully," the ranger sneered.
"Do not utter the king's name so easily, you traitor!" Ser Thames formed an X with his sword and arm. "Fight me like a man," he said, as a blue seal in the symbol of half a hand formed. "I challenge you to Gladius Sacratus."
"You want a match with me? You? Old man, give the kid to me and run. Maybe I will spare you." The knight formed the same seal.
"Fight me, you honorless coward!" Ser Thames yelled with rage. "The terms are to death."
"Get ready then, old man. Senile old fool with a death wish."
"Gladius Sacratus!" As they both yelled, a transparent dome of 15 feet in radius seemed to form.
This way the kid will be safe, Ser Thames thought as he saw the young prince. He screamed, "Prepare to die, you scoundrel!"
"Come then, old man," the younger ranger sneered at the knight who was charging at him with fury. Ser Thames swung with a predictable downward slash. The ranger, although not skilled in swordsmanship, matched the old knight in strength with a block. The knight seemed to be fighting in a fit of rage, and the second move of the ranger grazed the knight's side, leaving a small cut. The knight, seemingly infuriated with the wound, charged at the ranger again with the same downward slash. The ranger too blocked with the same efficiency and strength. As the ranger turned his torso around and stabbed the knight in the side—
"Hah, old ma—" A small dagger sent through his throat. "You..." blood flowing out of his neck. "Where is your honor..." as the ranger fell.
Ser Thames had a grim look. Although Ser Thames was old, the reason he survived four wars is because of his calm temperament. The fits of rage he showcased were all deceptions to fool the ranger, as he had no chance to win a fair fight. He had to act like a man filled with rage, he had to showcase to the ranger that all his moves were angry, and he had to sacrifice his... Ser Thames looked down, thinking, as he saw that he was bleeding profusely from his side. "I was never a knight who fought with honor, but I am loyal to a fault," he said as he looked at the kid now hugging him, crying, covering him in snot and tears. "Grandpa, you're bleeding."
"It doesn't hurt, young prince. Now, let's get going. One more day to Castle Blackthorn," as he took a step and almost collapsed. "The horse is dead. It seems we have to walk.
"May the gods watch over us, prince," Ser Thames said with a warm smile.
The duo of prince and knight kept walking as the terrain seemed to become darker. The day broke, but the trees were so tall and mighty that light scarcely broke through. Although there were better paths, this was the safest one, and the knights who would be following would be on horseback.
Sir Thames, who was lively before the fight, uttered no word after that. Although he kept walking, only groans of pain could be heard from him. The prince was not a fool. Although a kid of ten years in age, he could understand that Grandpa Thames was in deep pain.
"Thadak!" The knight fell, no longer being able to walk.
"Grandpa!" the kid ran toward him. "Don't die!"
"Young prince, do not worry about me. I just need rest, that's all," as he seemed to be looking up, talking to him.
Fabian knew that the knight was in immense pain. "Wait, Grandpa, let me grab you some water," as he searched the knight's satchel. The water pouch was empty. "Let me grab you water. I hear a river nearby, Grandpa!"
As the kid ran toward the sound in a fit of panic—
"No..." The knight had no strength to stop the prince. As tears trailed down his eyes, Don't go, prince. Go ahead. Leave this old knight.
"Don't die, Grandpa," the young boy ran through the trees toward the sound of the stream. He knew his parents—the King and Queen—had perished. All the people he once knew were gone. And now, the knight who had served the Queen and stood beside him since childhood was dying—all to protect him. Tears and snot streamed down the boy's face as he sprinted toward the sound.
As the trees gave way to a clearing, he found the river he sought—a large ribbon of blue water cutting through the land. But what caught his eye more than the river was the castle. A black fortress, overgrown with vines, loomed atop a distant mountain.
"Help..." the boy thought, heart pounding, as he rushed to the water's edge, hoping to collect water—and somehow show the castle to Grandpa Knight.
"You were right, Jameson," a gruff voice said, as a hand suddenly grabbed his collar and lifted him off the ground.
Four men in gleaming silver armor stood around him, tall and menacing, their armor marked with a familiar crest.
"The runt was by the river. I mean, the prince," sneered the one holding him—a horrid-looking man with cropped black hair and half a nose.
"Told you, Gavich. Water's a basic need. Humans always gather near it," said a lanky man with a long, bony face and sharp eyes.
"We're rich!" cried the shortest of the four, his voice brimming with excitement. "So... do we take him alive or just his head?"
"Alive is best," the oldest of them said calmly, a white-bearded man with a stern expression. "Easier to prove. Many knights have probably found dummy kids to fool the new king. Is he even a king? I can't stomach calling that man king."
Fabian, still trembling, reached for the small dagger hidden in his boot. With a swift motion—"slack!"—he slashed the knight holding him.
"You brat!" Gavich grimaced in pain and slapped Fabian with his metal glove. The boy flew two feet back, screaming in agony as a tooth left his mouth.
"The kid's got Queen Meeram's fire, I'll give him that," the old knight chuckled.
"I'm going to gut this little bastard," Gavich growled, drawing his sword.
"Hold on, Gavich. He's our ticket to fortune," barked the bony-faced knight.
"We'll still get ransom—even if he's missing a few parts," sneered the half-nosed man, stepping closer to where Fabian had landed.
Grabbing Fabian again, he raised his black-metal sword in the same casual swing one might use to cut a tree branch—
"Slack!"
The sound of a hand hitting the ground was followed by a gut-wrenching scream.
"Grandpa!" Fabian cried, as Ser Thames appeared beside him, his sword cleaving the knight's arm clean off.
The old knight trembled, blood pouring from a trail he had left behind—he must have dragged himself here.
"Kill the old man!" Gavich screamed.
The others obeyed. One kicked Ser Thames in the knees, sending him collapsing. Two more stabbed him as he fell—but not a scream left the old knight's lips.
"Run, little prince..." he muttered.
"Grandpa!" Fabian screamed in anguish.
And then... the earth stirred.
The castle atop the mountain pulsed with life, exuding a strange energy. The air thickened.
"What is this? This amount of magic... is there an army nearby?" the bony knight asked, alarmed.
"Magic? Here? How could someone with a Bloom be this close?" the old bearded knight muttered.
"It's coming from that castle."
Their eyes turned skyward.
A strange sensation crept under their armor. Swords trembled.
"What's going on?" shouted the short knight, throwing his weapon down. "Why is my sword shaking?!"
Fabian could only watch.
Their armor—once protective—began to move. The metal came alive, twisting, coiling...
Then: shkrrrrk!
Sharp spikes burst outward, piercing their bodies from within. Blood, flesh, and bone exploded in a violent shower. The four knights died—instantly, unknowingly, helplessly. It was as if divine retribution had answered a silent prayer.
"The gods have helped us, Grandpa..."
Fabian turned toward Ser Thames with hope—only to see him still kneeling, eyes warm and distant.
No light remained within them.
"Noooo! Grandpa! Don't go! You're all I have left! Nooo!"
His cries echoed.
"The man is dead, child," said a calm, feminine voice.
Fabian spun around. Standing nearby was an older woman in a black-and-white servant's outfit. Her hair was brown streaked with gray, and her sharp green eyes met his.
"Was it you? Did you kill them?" he asked, voice shaking.
"That would be my master," the woman replied. "He was resting in the castle until he heard your commotion."
"Heard...?" Fabian blinked through his tears, confused. From that far away...?
"Let's give him a proper burial, Master Fabian," the woman said gently. "And then... let's go meet your uncle, shall we?"
"Uncle?"