Young King Logan was a good man, and a good king. He had taken the place of his father, the Hero King Sparrow, and therefore had large shoes to fill, but he felt up to the task. He continued his father's policies, kept Albion in a good state of repair, and led a campaign to destroy all the trolls.

A very successful campaign, it turned out to be. Albion was safe from the brutes, and the people rejoiced; troll attacks had been rare, but when people did come across them, they were slaughtered, with no chance of survival, unless they could run very fast. Now, they would be safe from the monsters, and the merchants' families were overjoyed.

But when Logan returned from a voyage long after he was scheduled to, with no men behind him, and barely healthy enough to walk up the palace steps, something in him changed, and he became a tyrant.

If Sparrow had been alive, he would have cried himself to sleep upon seeing his son turn sour.


There sat Sabine, his uncle, denying him help unless he helped the Dwellers, first. They were his people, too, after all, and how could he be sure Sparrow's Hero blood had really been passed to this blond child.

'Child'. He hated when people called him that. Miles was eighteen. He had felt all the emotions of any other person, including love – oh, how he knew of love – and he had watched his father wither away and die. He had watched his brother go from saint to sinner, and he had been forced to choose between innocence and lust. He was no more a child than any man within this fenced-in courtyard.

"Fine. If you require proof, I will get you proof. What do you need me to do, Sabine."

Sabine's lips curled into a smile, and he hobbled down the steps of his 'throne' to stare his nephew in the eyes.

"Is that any way to speak to your uncle, boy?"


Hollow Men were easy, now. He had fought at least a hundred in the caverns under Brightwall Academy, and he had cut down Hobbe after Hobbe on his way to this disgusting swamp. Killing a few dozen Hollow Men, with a small company of soldiers, was a piece of cake. Until the soldiers got knocked out...but that wasn't so bad, either. Really, it wasn't.

When the battle was over, he promised Major Swift that he would take care of the army, and off he and Walter went, on through Mourningwood to Bowerstone Industrial, to gain more support.


Page was obnoxious; whiny, slow-to-trust, and smarter than she needed to be. But, Miles agreed with the things she said, so he agreed to help her, if it meant gaining her trust and support.

But at the masquerade, while Reaver was throwing enemy after enemy at them, Miles felt truly alive. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins, and the adrenaline pumping through him. For the first time, he realized the feeling he got when he killed, when he took a life with his hands, was the most wonderful feeling he had ever experienced. His hands. Those hands, attached to his wrists, were his, and he was using them to kill things. And his entire body was crying out with joy, to see the blood spilled by his hands, his blade, his pistol. It was like creating art.

And when Reaver invited them to his private rooms, he was intrigued. It was no secret that Miles was not a virgin, and it was also no secret that he was recently married, to his former love, Elise. But, much like his new-found love of the fight, of killing, he had realized how much he loved sex, and the thought of delving further into this interest was enticing...

But it didn't matter, because Page refused, of course, and they were forced to leave an empty house, saving only one of the men they came there to save.

What a waste.

The death of Swift had prompted them to leave for Aurora quickly, and Miles hardly had time to go home and kiss Elise goodbye, so he just avoided that Industrial street, so he could savor the slaughter of Logan's Elite as they fought their way to the docks.

Things did not go as planned, however.

The things Miles saw in those caverns...no man should have ever had to see them. And having to carry your best friend and mentor out of hostile territory, where the very shadows want you dead, was not the way he had envisioned their trip to the desert country.

This thing...the Crawler...it was horrid. For a moment, Miles felt bad for the people of Aurora, but something in him had changed. He was no longer the innocent prince he had been weeks ago. He did not care for their strife, at all.

And he would take that throne from his brother, at all costs.

Even if it meant lying to gain the support of the Aurorans.


He sat on the throne, now. He had the power to control Albion, as his father once did, and his brother had, only days before.

His coronation had been glorious, and in his heart, he knew he would not give them the king they wanted. He would give them the king his father and brother had failed to be. And if they didn't like it, well...they could die.

He divorced Elise. Renounced their adopted son as 'beneath a king, and fit only for the hard life of Industrial.' Every chance he had, he filled the treasury with money enough to save his people from the Crawler, and make himself rich after all that was over. The only thing he didn't do, of course, was drain Bower Lake; but that was merely because it looked nice, and he did not feel like looking on a pit when he attended Reaver's parties.

So the people hated him. So his allies grew furious, angered by his betrayal. So what? He was a king, and kings could do what they wanted. He cared little for the feelings of the people, and he cared little for the feelings of those who were 'dear' to him. He had realized, in Reaver's mansion, that he merely needed to promise them the help they wanted in order to get the help he needed. And that making a promise and fulfilling a promise were two different things entirely.

Yes, yes, he had lost the trust of those who helped him get to where he was.

But what did it matter? It was his throne, now.

King Miles defeated the Crawler, took a wife, and sired six children. He cared for his sons the most, his eldest daughter next, and his youngest daughter the least. His queen kept his more carnal appetite sated as often as she could, but he still had many mistresses...though the life of a mistress was usually short-lived: if it turned out she was pregnant, she was put to death; he would not suffer a bastard to live.

His sons he doted on. Lavished his money all over their heads. His two eldest, his first and second children, were taught combat, politics, how to woo women, and how to treat others based upon status. The youngest sons, his fifth and sixth children, were told stories, showered with toys, and taught how to be strong, domineering men.

His eldest daughter, the third child, was taught basic subjects by her tutors, as well as singing, piano, painting, needlework, how to manage a household, how to please a husband; anything that a wife was thought to be required of, she was shown. And she excelled: the number of suitors asking for her hand was nearly as large as the number of men she took to her bed.

The fourth child, a girl with the blond hair and big blue eyes of her father and grand-father, was unneeded. They had wanted a son; they only needed one daughter, to marry off for political reasons. But with the birth of the fourth child, the girl, they had two, and what would they do with two daughters?

This girl, rather unlovingly named Adaryn – "bird", for her 'flighty' crying – and tossed aside, was ignored, uncared for by her parents, and being raised by hesitant maids and nurses. It was only thanks to the now obsolete Jasper and Logan that the unloved child was truly cared for.

King Miles allowed the unwanted daughter to be taken under the wing of his brother and former servant, and cast the child out to live with Logan until she was old enough to be presented at court. For, since he had her, he might as well the girl, right?

Without the unwanted child, life in the castle went on as originally planned: the children were spoiled, the queen was used and unloved, free to bring men to her bed when her husband was not there (provided no bastards be born), and the king abused his staff and his subjects, not caring for the growing unrest within Albion.

He was a Hero, after all; he could squash any mere human who dared to rise against him.


Author's Note: I feel this was a rather lame attempt to introduce Miles, the Hero of Brightwall. And, yes, I also gave the name of one child, Adaryn, which should be a clue to you, especially if you remember my twice-failed project...

I may go through later to edit this, and add more content. If I do, I'll make sure I mention it somewhere, so you know. (UPDATE: I did in fact edit. This chapter, and the last. I added in some things, fixed some errors...minor stuff, but I feel it gives a better portrait of King Miles that it did, originally.)

Anyway, I finished this introductory story in the span of a few hours, which makes me happy. It may not be amazing, but hopefully it's a start to a good next series.

Enjoy!

AHAHAHA! Oh, I'm so stupid! I forgot Walter is dead! XD
It's all better now, guys. I fixed my mistake!