Prince Jon - The Slopes of Mt. GUÐRÚN

Tel. IX - Year 18 4AOS

The dark gray waves crashed fiercely against the shores of Morhan Beach as the winds of the incoming storm approached. It howled like a pack of wolves causing the pine trees behind the beach to shiver. Rain and ice fell from the sky like harbingers announcing the nasty weather which could be seen blackening the skies behind the Ironshield Mountains far across the sea. Winter thunder even bellowed in the heavens. Out of a thick veil of mist, a fleet of ships with red and dark green sails slowly emerged like ghosts ready to haunt the living.

When nineteen-year-old Prince Jon Jahangir heard their thuds in the clouds, he cursed under his breath which spewed from his lips like the flames of an angry dragon. The winds and rough seas caused his ship to bob up and down and his face was splashed with icy, cold seawater. Some of it went into his mouth. The saltiness. He almost liked it. He was of the Berja, a fair-faced and strong people of the cold kingdoms of Northern Termnnia.

Going into battle was growing to be his favorite hobby aside from Duel Monsters, though he didn't have much of a choice as he was the only son of his father's house. Growing up with thirteen sisters was not easy, especially his eldest sisters who had seen the ferocity of war long before he left the womb of his mother that cold October night. The left side of his face was painted red to match the banner of his clan, a great armored Cave Bear roaring in a field of red with a black triangle behind it. The wind blew his dirty blond hair swayed on the right side of his head with a bang that reached down past his bearded chin. The left half of his hair was completely shaved off. His eyes were as cold and gray as the waves pounding against the beach beside him. He smiled and shook his head. His crown of polished marble was showing off his royalty. That also left a huge mark on his head, as across the beach Naralian forces were ready to do battle with his country again.

There were youngsters and loudmouths in the enemy ranks. No doubt at least one of them wanted to go home with a Victory over a Prince of the Alliance, especially if that prince was the battlefield legend known as the Iron Knight, so-called for he entered the battle with his faithful Duel Monster known as Gearfried the Iron Knight.

He was a towering behemoth of a man clad in black armor and with a large blade on his right arm. Gearfried was the key to many victories against rival Clans and Houses and the ironclad knights of Naralia. He stood proudly beside Jon in the ice-cold gale, his breath forming a cloud of mist over his face. Needless to say, his intimidating presence kept the Naralia soldiers at bay.

Jon smirked and suppressed a laugh. Even from where he was, he saw them shivering across the beach. Underneath their steel plates, they wore elegant doublets and blue-striped pumpkin pants which did little to shield them from the cold. Again, Naralia was trying to set a foothold in his home, and Jon was happy that, again, he would send these puffed-up, ignorant, wine-sippers back to their home defeated and in pieces. It had been years since King Forrest had sent troops into the Kingdom of Biting Cold. Word had reached Jon's ears that Forrest had acquired some land from Elleria when he was foolishly challenged to a Duel under the Dueling Pact. He must have grown confident. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so careless to begin another campaign to conquer Riftgaard again.

Jon swayed his head from side to side to crack his neck. His enchanted fur cape, Varou, blocked the freezing temperature from causing his body discomfort but that was mostly his neck and torso. He had a chainmail shirt over his blood-red hauberk and his pants, gloves, and boots of dragonhide and steel. As powerful of a defense as they gave him they did nothing to shield him from the elements.

The ships finally landed on the beach. Jon and the other warriors jumped off and began to form ranks. Jon held up his finger in the air and twirled his hand around in a circle, a hand gesture he needed to make when summoning Gearfried the Iron Knight. When he appeared, the warriors yelled and bashed their axes, spears, and swords against their painted shields. Jon and Gearfried walked to the front of the line to join his sister.

"Nelerey Hermandali ? (Cold brother?)" asked his eldest sister Princess Liola the White Lynx.

She was seven feet tall and towered over him. She was clad in leather, chainmail, and iron plates. There was an oversized polished steel targe on her left shoulder. Her silky blonde hair was tied into a long braid that went down past her buttocks and brushed against the back of her ankles. Her arms were tattooed with runes and the ancient symbols of her ancestors. A tiara of silver and mother-of-pearl shined brightly on her forehead. Her white-furred cape was wrapped around her shoulders and swaying in the wind to protect her from the kiss of winter, ready to press its eager lips onto her fair skin.

She battled with the hood down, for she wanted to show her face paint to the enemy on the beach staring them down. They were waiting for the general to arrive and make terms but Jon wondered what the point was. Terms were never met with the Berja.

The Berja wanted to fight, not discuss terms.

"Dova, i liyen nelri theeso, hemandala, (Yes, I am quite chilled this morning, sister)" Jon answered with a cough. " Hovallah, theeso, generala, teeva sova net wen pelyar, (Hopefully this general arrives soon so we can fight.) That usually warms me up in battles such as this. Gearfried is ready to spill blood again."

"I have no doubt," said Liola. "Just leave some for the rest of us. We want to tell stories as well."

"I doubt I will have any chance to fight at my best this forenoon," Jon said, stroking his bushy beard.

"Why do you say that?" Liola asked.

"I have to watch over Milk Drinker," Jon answered, jerking his thumb behind him.

Far in the back of the ranks stood the youngest daughter of the Jahangir clan. Little Astrid shivered, for this was her first battle. Their sister, Aela the Lion, so-called for her wild mane of long, blonde hair, was by her side with her spear.

Astrid was a child of seventeen, still a baby in the eyes of her older siblings and anyone else her senior, but she had aspired to be a Shield Maiden upon reaching her eighteenth year, and Shield Maidens, like her sisters, had to fight from a young age. Perhaps she would grow to become a Valkyrie like her mother, and her mother's mother.

Her legendary armor was still displayed in the mead hall of their castle home, awaiting a worthy Shield Maiden to be named Valkyrie and wear it.

On either side of Astrid stood her sisters; the twins, Sassa and Saga, standing proudly in their red leather armor and saber-tooth fur capes.

They both wielded war hammers enchanted with elemental magic. Sassa's had fire and Saga had hers blessed with ice. They had the golden hair of the Jahangir clan, braided and pleated with silver and gold, and decorated with little bronze bells.

Saga was an apprentice Summoner who could call upon a Celtic Guardian to join her in battle. And Sassa was a beastmaster, a warrior who was attuned with nature and relied on animals to aid them in battle. Her companion was an adult Cave Bear she called Gandalf.

All the offspring of King Audun the Golden King had survived the rites of passage and had bathed in the blood of their enemies. Now it was Astrid's turn. Her siblings called her Milk Drinker for she was not accustomed to the taste of ale and beer or mead as the others were.

Every night at dinner in the mead hall she would order a cup of milk, and everyone made fun of her for it. But, though timid and frail-looking, she could rip a man's head off with her bare hands as she was taught by both Shield Maidens, former Valkyries, and even her father in the art of swordcraft, and all the milk she drank made her bones as tough as iron. She was dressed in a dark blue top and a white pleated skirt with blue patterns. A cape made of mammoth fur kept her shoulders and arms warm. Her boots made of embossed leather enchanted with a spell of resist cold. Her blonde hair, which had a more golden color to it than the others, was tied into two little pigtails with white silk bows. Her eyes were sparkling and gray like the sky. She had a sword of gold in her right hand called Fornflagð. It was her mother's and the tower shield of iron and polished oak on her left hand was called Wolfgaard, which was a relic from her uncle. Her bracers made of polished red dragon scales were a gift from the court wizard named Bard.

With these gifts, they had confidence in her to win her first battle, and with Jon and Liola in the field with her, how could she fail?

The Naralian soldiers began to split apart and the sound of hooves on the ground mixed with the pounding waves. A Naralian dressed in scaled plate of shiny steel and a sash of crimson approached. His pumpkin pants were soaked turning the gold and red into a dull color of bronze and soiled scarlet. Not too far behind him, was a gilded palanquin carried by soldiers in beautiful red-scaled armor trimmed with silver, and flowing red capes with The Church's flaming eye emblem embroidered with rubies on the back. The flaming eye symbol was also forged into their breastplates. They brought with them a priest from The Church of Yeyu.

"Here come negotiations," said Jon. "And it looks like The Church sends us another emissary to try and persuade us to join their faith."

"We will decline as always," scoffed Liola. "I do hope this battle ends quickly. I want to get into the new hot springs they discovered under the castle later tonight."

"I could fight all day and all night," Jon sneered as the Naralian general approached.

"That is why you will make an excellent king, brother. May the ancestors watch you."

"And may they watch you!" Jon said slamming his fist on his chest.

The general approached. He looked down at Jon and Liola from atop his horse. He had waxed mustachios and hair doused in a gel, which froze from the icy winds coming from the Gudrun Mountains. He was a man who enjoyed the comforts of the Summerlands. A wine-drinker, who would walk the gardens of Naralia and its beaches suckling both sugary sweets or the candied nipples of a prostitute from the House of Flowers. He was clearly out of his element. His troops were the same. They were clad in steel and velvet while the sturdy Berjas were warm and ready in their furs, leathers, dragon hide, steel, and chainmail.

"I take it you two are the children of King Audun?" The general asked in a brusque manner. He shivered but did the best he could to hide it from them.

Jon and Liola frowned in response to his tone. The knights from The Church knelt down, lowering the palanquin. The priest stepped out in gleaming red robes trimmed with gold. He had a red cap on his head, and gray hair protruding from underneath. He had a long nose and a stern look. Bushy white eyebrows pointing down in a scowl. He seemed displeased with the land he was walking in. A land he deemed uncivilized.

"We don't have all morning," said Jon, pointing to the crown on his head. Gearfried snorted above him. "Tell us what you want and let's get this over with."

"Indeed," the general said feeling slandered by the prince's pretentious tone. He was intimidated by Gearfried's presence. "But first, the priest would like a word with you."

"Here we go," sighed Liola, with a quick roll of her eyes.

"By order of his Holiness," the priest said, holding up an arm, showing off his hand with ringed fingers. "You are to surrender these lands to his Majesty, King Forrest Ungard III. Heir to the dynasty of the Bear, Master to the Diamond Throne, Wielder of the Divine Beasts, The Lord of Men, High King of Termnnia, and all of Her kingdoms. You are to cease your evil ways and succumb to the will of the Creator, Yeyu, Lord of the Fires of Judgement. You will no longer be worshiping your pagan gods. You will cease the art of magic, the nefarious force whom our Lord has outlawed in the scriptures. You will also surrender your cards and no longer play the vile game of sorcery known as Duel Monsters. And this Duel Monster, this Gearfried the Iron Knight, will be sent to Templars to be terminated and sent to the Shadow Realm from whence it came."

Gearfried snorted again, shaking his head in disbelief.

"When last I checked," said Jon, arrogantly stepping forward. "Prince Daveed Delgado Wallcroft was the Master of the Diamond Throne, Wielder of the Divine Beasts, The Lord of Men, High King of Termnnia, and all her kingdoms."

"You'd have a bastard sit on the Diamond Throne?" the priest said, poisonously.

"I'd watch who you call bastard, Father," said Liola. "The prince has done far more for our people than your church or your king combined."

"Do not speak to me girl," said the Priest. "A woman has no place amongst men!"

"Tell that to the High Queens of the ancient times," said Jon. "My ancestors were allied to every single one of them."

"And what will happen to our cards when we 'surrender' them to you, Father?" asked Liola.

"They shall be taken to the High Chapel and burned. Children of Audun, surrender now to the king and surrender your souls to Yeyu and your sins will be forgiven."

"Is that so?" said Jon. He went face to face with the priest. "I think you should tell Yeyu he can shove it up his…"

"Don't blaspheme in front of me, boy!" spat the priest. "It is because of you ghastly, uncivilized beasts that I am here in this ass-end part of the continent. We have you outnumbered. Do us all a favor and surrender so that we may head home before lunch."

"If I may, Father," said the general. "I shall read the terms of surrender from the king."

He took out a roll of parchment and read aloud.

One of the items on the list was Liola and the rest of his sisters. It didn't surprise Jon that the libidinous King Forrest would want to have his sisters as a prize. They were called the Jewels of Riftgaard, for so great was their beauty. The fat king had already claimed many noblewomen, princesses, queens, baronetesses, and baronesses from the lands he had conquered. And they were all serving him in his chambers doing who-knows-what. Then, to no one's surprise, they asked for his legendary ax, Anduin, which was a weapon of great power bestowed on him by the Goddess of Thunder after Jon and his sisters conquered the great Spirit of the Silvermountain.

His ax was a precious gift, yes, but he loved his sisters more. Jon wasn't about to let Liola and his sisters be treated like mere toys to be traded to a spoiled brat. He responded to the terms with a loud and sturdy curse at the king of Naralia.

The insult proved too much for the Naralian general. He let out a cry and unsheathed his jeweled sword, but an arrow flew from the pine forests and struck him in the mouth. He made a horrid gurgling sound and fell from his steed with a loud thud onto the sand. The arrow was black with red fletching. The Yeyunist priest squealed like a frightened pig and ran for cover in the rocks.

"Show off," Liola muttered while shaking her head from side to side.

The arrow belonged to their sister, Dagmar. She smirked as she hid in the branches of the black pines. She heard the roar of the enemy soldiers followed by a spine-tingling battle cry of her people.

She began to curvet from branch to branch elegantly as though she too was an animal of the forest. Her ears picked up the clashing of steel. Jon below landed the first kill no doubt. Dagmar perched herself on another tree about twenty yards from the beach and aimed at the knights on horseback. Her arrows sang, thrashing through the wind before piercing flesh and steel.

Jon then held up his battle ax. A lightning bolt pierced through the clouds and struck it, enchanting the ax with the power of lightning, dealing terrible damage to his foes. Jon could also take out his enemies from afar with streaks of lightning from his palms, and when he did this, his eyes started glowing and sparking. He dashed across the battlefield, hacking limbs off his enemies or frying them with lightning. The Storm Prince, he was called for this unique ability. He was surrounded by foreign mercenaries who would be rewarded with a hefty sum of money for taking his head. But their journey here was in vain. Jon summoned a cloak of lightning that shielded him like a barrier. When the mercenaries got close, they were zapped until life faded from their bodies and their charred corpses slumped into the snow.

Liola, with her twin axes, bashed in the skulls of her enemies. The beauty of her axes caught the attention of many warriors seeking to claim the weapons after slaying Liola. They were called Hildr and Gunnr. The blades were forged by Bard in the lake of lava from GUÐRÚN, Riftgaard's only active volcano. They had intricate patterns, which glowed bright orange. The handles, finely crafted from polished oak with brass pommels. She could set the ax blades ablaze with just a thought, the plasma-hot flames melting the tough armor of her foes and killing them quickly. She cut off the hands of the wounded as they lay on the ground, crying out in agony. A message to her enemies. She made sure they would never take arms against Riftgaard again.

Jon remained at least ten feet from Astrid to keep an eye on her, but she was handling herself rather well for a greenhorn, which was what the veterans of war called those new to the ferocity of battle.

Should he call her that? She made great use of the heavy shield and the golden sword. Many a fool challenged her, for she looked cute and helpless in her pigtails and her sweet, adoring face. Some tried to injure her so as to take her home as a prisoner of war. Jon didn't know whether to feel angry or give the fools his pity. They failed at their task of conquering the youngest princess of the clan. She was like the saber-toothed Smilodons of the Oldari Plains. Beautiful and fierce.

She bashed in the faces of her foes and cut off their limbs with ease. Just then a gang of Naralian mercenaries surrounded her. They puckered their lips making kissing sounds at her as they encircled her.

Jon used his elbow to bash a soldier in the temple. He grabbed him by the dome of his skull and shocked him with a lightning spell. When the soldier was dead, Jon then ran to aid his younger sister. But he was blocked by a squad of young officers looking to make a name for themselves by killing the prince. Jon gave a battle cry and charged at the group starting their fight, but kept his eye on Astrid as he fought his foes. The mercenaries slashed at her legs to keep her down. Astrid jumped out of the way, skipping from left to right to avoid their swords but they were getting closer.

They were beyond her skill to fight, and the officers were skilled with the sword. Jon whistled calling his Gearfried to aid him in his fight with the brash officers.

Dagmar also spotted Astrid's predicament with the mercenaries. She made sure none got the drop on her sister, and she showered the Naralian mercenaries with her black arrows until Jon's monsters arrived. Gearfried's presence was enough to cause fear in the other soldiers. They stopped bothering Astrid and ran for the hills to escape the Duel Monster only to be mauled by Gandalf.

"It pays to be a Summoner," Jon thought to himself.

The waves began to churn red like wine from the blood of the fallen Naralians. Only a few of the Berjas were injured but none were killed. They were too tough. Barrel-chested, cold-resistant, and downright bloodthirsty, they overpowered the fruity men of the Summerlands.

The Naralians retreated two short hours later, and the beach echoed with the roar of the Berjas of clan Jahangir and their allies.

Sassa and Sage found the Yeyunist priest hiding in the rocks. Dagmar was ready to put an arrow in his head, but Jon stopped her.

"Your king has failed," Jon said to the priest. "As have all the kings before him who have tried to conquer our home. We will side with neither him nor your false god, Yeyu."

"Blasphemy!" spat the priest.

Dagmar slapped him across the face. A Berja berserker slammed the corpse of the Naralian general on the ground beside the priest. The warrior let out loud roars and grunts with every move. He knelt over the general and used a hooked knife to cut his face off.

He held it high for all to see.

RAAAARRRR! He shouted triumphantly, holding up the skinned face.

The Berja warriors cheered. The priest could not believe what was happening to him. A month ago he had been walking the warm, golden halls of Lionhold, with its fresco ceilings, and crystal chandeliers. He was attending lavish parties with people of civility. Now he was here in this cold and unsettled part of Termnnia at the mercy of these barbarians.

"Savages…you're all savages…SAVAGES!" he shouted. "You will all perish, and pay for this outrage with eternal damnation! The Fires of Yeyu will consume you all!"

"Wesha nyet ? (Why not?)" sneered Liola. " Iven binyen frezo miet pretta rumpa oofa feya urdar! (I've been freezing my pretty ass off for years)."

She slapped her thick thighs to taunt him. Her soldiers laughed at her crude jest, which made the priest's face contort in an expression of anguish and shock. In his eyes, covered women were proper women. But Liola, her sisters, and most of the other savage female warriors in this army showed a lot of skin. Many, to his shock, chose to go to battle in loincloths. They were practically naked.

"Monyet hen frigé, hermandali , (Make him fly, brother!)" called Astrid, who sat atop a rock, holding the bloody skull of the warrior in thick steel armor that Jon fought earlier.

"Izen grath," said Jon.

The priest began to babble. "Him etchu, Gold Star Chip, deyu wentu feya miet lifu? (How much Gold Star Chips do you want to spare my life?) Him etchufen? Him etchufen?"

Jon signaled the soldiers carrying him to bring him forward. The priest whimpered with fear as he was pulled closer and closer towards the prince. Jon knelt down and looked at him in the eyes. His stormy blue orbs created a hurricane of fear that churned in the man's soul.

"Many of the villagers you slaughtered in Velenqueth were dear friends of mine," Jon spoke to him in common. "And you killed them for not accepting your terrible religion. Well now, it's time you paid. And it won't be with Gold Star Chips. A person's life is worth far more than a horde of chips or coins. A life cannot be replaced by gold."

Sassa and Saga grabbed the priest and took him between two trees with a ring of torches encircling it then tied him up. A fetching Berja girl walked towards the fallen priest. She erotically shook her hips from side to side with each step. The priest gasped, for he felt a great illness upon setting his eyes on her. The girl was pretty but she was wearing close to nothing despite the freezing cold. It was thirty degrees below on the battlefield and yet she wore an armored loincloth and steel plates that didn't shield her midriff. Frost was beginning to form on her skin and icicles twinkled in her hair and eyelashes but she smiled as if she enjoyed it. The Berja had such a tolerance to the cold it was horrifying. She was Jon's second youngest sister, Alfsigr. Though she was very young, she was a class of warrior called a Berserker. The priest sobbed and muttered prayer as he stared into Alfsigr's eyes. To look at a woman amorously was a violation of Yeyu's Wills.

"Stop waving your breasts in his face, baby sister!" ordered Liola. "You know he and his ilk do not bend to the pleasures of the flesh."

"I thought he would enjoy the sight of a real woman before we send him off," said Alfsigr.

She walked behind the priest, her fingers petting his twitching cheek as she made her way behind him. Once there, she tore the back of the priest's robes with great ease, ripping each layer of his garments until his bare back was exposed.

"What are you doing?" he cried out. "I have friends! Friends in the capital! You will be sorry for this. You'll see!"

Alfsigr removed her dagger from her iron boot and held it over a torch one of her Berserkers was holding. She held it over the flames until the steel was glowing bright orange. She examined the hot blade then in an instant, jabbed the hot blade into the priest's back. The priest screeched like a banshee feeling the hot steel dig into his flesh. The skin and muscle hissed and bellowed smoke. Alfsigr giggled as she rubbed his shoulders to soothe him and then peeled the flesh off his back. He let out another wail into the cold, unforgiving land. Only the ears of smiling Berja heard his cries, and they liked it.

Dagmar handed Alfsigr her ax which she used to sever the ribs. Blood washed all over the daughters of Audun with each raise of the ax. They relished his screams which paled in comparison to the screams of agony of their people who were killed, raped, and butchered by the Church for many years. Now that Jon had Gearfried and was going to be joining High King Yuri as a Knight of the Royal Termnnian Table, they were empowered. They felt like nothing could stop them now.

Alfsigr moaned with pleasure as the priest sobbed and wailed from the unbearable pain. She rubbed his blood all over her breasts and butt. She even put her finger in her mouth to savor the flavor. She smiled and said, "Fly!' before reaching inside his back and pulling out his lungs. The priest shuddered. Blood oozed out of his mouth. He coughed twice before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

"You there!" Jon shouted at two survivors. "Send the body to your king. Show him what happens when he sends his Church to pollute our lands and threatens to take the crown from The Eradicator of Anubis. Yuri is the one and only High King of Termnnia! Forever! And if your king fails to understand that, tell him to send his troops again so we can knock some more sense into him. Go on! Get out of here! GO!"

When the Naralian soldiers were gone, Jon, his sisters, and their warriors collected themselves. They made the long trip back to the city of Steoi and up the Spirit Mountain to the castle, which looked over the fishing town below. Freezing rain began to pour down from the skies. Jon shivered as he entered the warm halls of Vaettfang where his father, King Audun.

King Audun, Ruler of Riftgaard

He was feasting with kin and friends while sitting on his bronze throne decorated with the shields of the fallen clans he defeated. Genesis, one of the three eldest sisters of the Clan, presented her father with the jeweled shield of the fallen Naralian general. He placed his fingers on it, thanked her, and gently took it from her before raising it up victoriously. His guests cheered triumphantly, holding up mugs and swords. His guards banged on their shields. The king stood up when he saw Jon, Liola, Dagmar, and Astrid enter the large mead hall with the soldiers of the morning's battle. He cheered for his children and held up a cup to toast their victory over the arrogant Naralians. His voice boomed across the halls, and he raised another cup for little Astrid. The guests stood up and clapped for the little princess. She smiled, lifting the hem of her skirt doing curtsy for everyone.

The battle was won, and now it was time to warm up and celebrate.

The blaze from the massive fireplace and the many pits and torches warmed the mead hall. Pigs were roasting over spits, and chicken grilled over small fire pits. Bacon hissed in the pans. Soups of noodles with bits of chicken and pork boiled in their cauldrons. And fish were powdered with flour and bread before being tossed into the pan for cooking. Cheerful music played by a band on the balcony overlooking the mead hall lightened the mood and warmed the spirits of the king's guests. Maidens dressed in thin white silks walked about the mead hall tantalizing the tired warriors for a few coins.

Jon walked to an empty table that was reserved for him and his sisters. He poured himself some ale, a strong drink for one so young. But Jon could handle it. He was a Berja for one and Berja boys could drink at a very young age. They believed themselves robust and sturdy. In fact, all boys when they reached twelve had to learn to wield a sword but since Jon was of the stubborn Jahangir clan, he had to learn to fight when he was nine. Made sense as he was the heir to the throne. His father wanted both a strong warrior and a powerful Duelist to rule Riftgaard when he was gone.

Audun and his beautiful wife, the golden-haired Valkyrie, Lady Ara of the Steel Mountains approached their table.

"Fine battle this morning, son," said the king.

"Thank you, Da," said Jon, bowing his head. The hair hanging on the left side swayed.

"Well, Audun," Ara said staring at her husband. "Is there something you wish to tell our son?"

"Ah yes, well. Jon, you did really well in Duel Academia. Your high grades and exceptional Dueling skills have rewarded you with this." He handed Jon a scroll of black paper tied with a red ribbon and sealed with red wax stamped with the coat of arms of the most elite Dueling school in Termnnia."

"It can't be!" Jon said, swiping the scroll from his father. "I made it!"

"Yes, son. It comes from Master Yugi himself." Audun raised his goblet up high and tapped it with his knife. "Friends! Be silent for just a moment. I have an announcement to make. My son Jon has grown to be my ultimate pride and joy. An exceptional warrior! A chosen hero of the Goddess of Thunder and now, he is on the road to becoming one of the most elite Duelists in the land. Not only will our enemies fear my son on the battlefield, but now they will fear him in the Dueling Grounds, for he is about to embark on his final journey to become a Master Duelist. It brings me great honor to announce that Jon will be attending the esteemed Broxiton University next year."

The Berja warriors raised their weapons and tankards up high in triumph and cheered. Audun ordered more barrels of beer to be brought up from the cellars and more livestock to be slaughtered, for tonight they were going to be feasting in Jon's honor all night long."

Audun sat down and ordered a wine maiden to fill his tankard. "Well, Jon, you seem to have grown quite attached to that game drool monsters?"

"Duel Monsters, Da," laughed Jon. "Seriously, how could you not know the land's most popular game?"

"I don't use monsters for games," Audun said sternly. "I use them for war. That is what they were put on this earth for. I am proud you were able to attend the university with Prince Yuri, but I do wish you could stop playing this silly game."

"Silly game? So you say," Jon said, sipping his ale. "But if weren't for all this magic binding them into the cards, you'd show a little more respect for them."

"What is this you are saying?"

"When you see Gearfried and I fight, what do you see?"

"I see a warrior calling his servant into battle for the glory of his clan!" Audun proclaimed proudly.

"Your pride hinders your senses as always, father," said Lilola. "When I see Gearfried and Jon battle together; I see brothers. Jon and Gearfried have shown a bond unlike any I have ever seen. It is their friendship and their trust in one another that has granted our Clan so many victories against our foes. Gearfried almost loves Jon. Perhaps one day our dear brother will unlock Gearfried's true power."

"True power?" Ara asked. "So there is more to this warrior than meets the eye?"

"Yes, Mother," said Jon. "Gearfried was once a powerful swordsman from a time long forgotten to history. He had the strength to challenge even Dark Master Zorc in the Dawn Era. But his power was beyond his control; almost without limit. It shook the mountains and threatened to destroy the land. So he had himself sealed in magical armor which restricted his strength. The Thunder Goddess told me this when she gave him and the Ax of Storms to me. Now that I my twentieth birthday has been reached, I am to embark on a quest to unlock his true power. She has shown me the way. That's why Yugi has chosen me to join the Alliance. I think have proven myself worthy of being a knight of the Royal Termnnian Table."

"Oh, yes. He seems to think so, too," Audun said coldly. "However, your acceptance into the university comes with a price."

"What do you mean?" Jon's mother asked.

Jon's smile slowly faded. "King Forrest has assembled an army of robotic warriors and sends them all over Termmnia. Master Yugi calls for the Alliance to assemble."

"Already?" Liola asked, looking over his shoulder at the letter.

"Yes. Prince Stas is on his way with additional troops to help us secure our borders from Forrest. And so does Jaeyoung of Uzumé! He's coming to fight against Forrest, too!"

"Oh, that's wonderful!" said Ara. "And what of Jon's enrollment, Audun?"

"So be it. I'll send a raven to Master Yugi for your enrollment after you conclude your training in the Legion come summer. May The Conqueror grant you and your friends strength, my son."

"Yes, father. You can count on me. Thank you."

Just as he was about to head back to his table, something caught his eye. A girl was hiding behind a stone pillar that was so far into the corner of the throne room that the light of the fire could not touch it.

Lady Summer Goldenvyne of the Rosehollow Vinyards

She used her finger to beckon him to come closer, and Jon was more than happy to oblige. As he got close, she giggled and hid behind the pillar. Jon looked behind the pillar. She was gone, but he heard her dress ruffling as she scurried to the other side like a frightened little mouse. Jon suddenly felt a pinch on his butt. He yelped and turned around. Nothing, except the train of a purple and gold dress that slithered behind the pillar again. Jon chased after her again. Nothing. And again, he felt his butt getting pinched. No more games. Jon laid back against the pillar. And waited. The girl peered curiously from behind, wondering where her playmate had gone to. She yelped when it was her rump that got pinched. Jon approached her slowly like a hunter cornering his kill. The girl smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her mouth into his.

After a long day of fighting against Naralians and shaking hands with jarls he didn't care to know, Jon could finally spend the evening with the lovely maiden. Her name was Summer Goldenvyne, daughter of Baron Charles Goldvyne of the Rosehollow Vineyards. Jon checked to make sure no one was around before he unlaced the back of her dress just enough that her shoulders came loose. Summer bit her lip, eyeing him bashfully as he worked on the front, exposing her breasts to him. Jon licked his lips like a dog and buried his face in them, kissing them and licking her fair skin. He then picked her up and carried her to his bed chambers. Along the way, they slammed each other against the walls, kissing, moaning, and biting each other.

Hours later

Jon lay in his bed and watched as his forbidden love was standing by the window, naked, so as to cool herself from the intense lovemaking they made earlier.

She was panting softly, trying to catch her breath. Making love to Jon was a task that was not for the faint of heart. Jon was like a ravenous werewolf when he had the fair maiden in his bed, ravaging her forbidden parts as though she were a little fawn he just hunted. After he was done suckling her womanhood dry of its juices, he started mounting her from behind as if asserting his dominance over her. He always forced her to bite down the handle of his ax to keep her from screaming; for she had the yell of a banshee. When he released his pleasure into her, he howled at the moon before he savagely bit and clawed her buttocks. Summer was no delicate young thing. Though a sweet maiden from the vineyards of the Summerlands, she had the endurance of a Berjan war veteran. She enjoyed every moment of their primal-like lovemaking and always thirsted for more.

Summer stared at the light of the three moons dancing on the lake below the castle and watched the ships with their tiny lanterns light up the glassy black surface. She had the curtains wrapped around her to warm her if it got too cold. A gentle sea breeze caused her hair to sway elegantly. She brushed her bangs off her face with her fingertips and looked over her shoulder back at Jon, who lay in bed with his hands resting behind his head, as he was calming himself. He was still breathing heavily from exhaustion and the moonlight caused the beads of sweat on his body to glisten.

Summer smiled at him. She felt his seed inside her and each time she did, she prayed to Ana that it would bloom into a healthy child. "Jon..." she began softly, "when...when are we going to stop hiding what we share from everyone? You promised me tonight you'd tell your father about everything."

"I can't right now," Jon said with a sad sigh. "The war has escalated with those robotic monstrosities King Forrest sends to fight. Each and every day, those things open a new theatre of war for us to fight in. I am to leave in the morning to help secure our borders from those things. That is why I cannot say anything tonight."

Summer took a deep breath, wrapping the curtains tightly around herself. "I understand. You really care for Prince Yuri, don't you?"

"As if he were my own brother. And I don't even know the boy. But he has saved us from Anubis and is to control the God Cards. He is my High King. And as a member of the Alliance and sworn member of the Kingsblades, it is my duty to keep our lands safe and secure until his return. And it is coming soon, my love."

"But the Senate has done all they could to..."

"Don't you worry about the Senate. Their Three Points Plan is merely a speed bump on Yuri's road to the Diamond Throne. Master Yugi has an informant from the High King's House of Intelligence down there. His reports come back positive. With Black Tyranno in his deck, Yuri is getting stronger and growing more courageous. And that is what we must be."

"Strong and courageous," Summer repeated. "Like Yuri. The Flower of the Standard Dimension?" she giggled.

"He's a flower but he's got poisonous thorns now that Black Tyranno is in his deck."

There was a long silence after that. Summer looked over her shoulder and saw him gazing at the ceiling with a smile on his face. She giggled and asked: "What are you thinking of?" she asked.

"The Alliance," Jon answered, burying himself underneath his furs. "Prince Marcel of Akuuda, Prince Jaeyoung of Uzume, and Prince Stas of Monde are coming to help me fight off King Forrest. They want to prove to Master Yugi and the world that we are not a force to be taken likely. Many people laugh at the idea of this Alliance. They think we're just young spoiled princes."

"I cannot wait to see you prove all those naysayers wrong, my love."

"Love," he repeated sadly. He didn't want to tell her until after he got back from battle but with King Forrest growing to be a thorn in the Alliance's side, he figured he might not get the chance to tell her for a while. "I'm sorry, Summer. There's something I have to tell you."

"What's wrong?" Summer asked, detecting the nervousness in his voice."

"There was another before you. A girl."

"What?" Summer asked.

"Listen, listen, please. Don't panic. Before I met you I was forced to marry one of the daughters of Lord Victor Brooks of the Golden Valley. The Golden Valley is rich with caves filled with gold, silver, and precious gems. Father wanted a cut of the action since our Clan was running low on funds. Well, we have swords made from the fires of GUÐRÚN, Termnnia's largest active volcano. Lord Victor wanted our craft. So, he made an offer to unite our houses. His daughter for me. And we can have as much gold and gems as we can carry and Victor's private forces get our Mastercraft swords."

"Oh no, Jon, if you're betrothed already, then what are you doing with…"

"I did not love her, Summer. She's not who I want to be with."

"It's not a matter of wanting, Jon, that's duty! Duty to your House!"

Jon leaned back on a pile of pillows and rested his hands behind his head. "It is, but it's a duty I can do just fine without. Our coffers are going to get a share of gold from the Dragon Vaults when Yuri became High King via the Alliance, so my marriage to the girl is going to be pointless."

"It matters not, Jon! What will your father say? Bad enough you're in love with me, an outsider, but this? You're going to end a marriage that can help your Houses?"

"We don't need their help. I have this!" He summoned Anduin, which came flying from out of nowhere and smacked into his palm where he gripped the handle hard.

Despite this, Summer did not approve. "Jon, stop it! You could start a war!"

Jon set the axe down beside his bed. "My sisters are the best fighters in the country; they will take care of Naralian Forces. And remember, I have Gearfried."

"You honestly think that's going to be enough?" Summer asked.

Jon chuckled. "It will. Have faith in us, my love."

Summer let go of the curtain, hoping her naked body would ease his nerves. "All we can do is keep our chins up and accept the fate that's been bestowed upon us." She giggled lustfully and climbed into bed. "And I suppose we can always have nights like this to make things fun until the time is right to tell everyone."

"All right, all right," Jon said tapping his finger on her nose. He kissed her forehead. "None of that. I know you want another round, but I'm tired. Sleep. We have a long day tomorrow, you and I."

"Mmm?" Summer pouted.

SMACK! SMACK! Jon swatted her buttocks and pointed at her sternly with a grin. "Hey! None of that."

Summer laughed and rubbed her nose with his. She laid down on top of him and sighed dreamily.

Jon rubbed her shoulder and kissed it. "Things are going to work out for us, Summer. I'll make them work. If I have to slay Zorc to keep you in my life, I'd do it. You're worth it."

Summer smiled. "I love you."

Lore

The Jewels of Riftgaard. The daughters of King Audun

Liola the White Lynx-Diamond

Genesis - Garnet

Sassa - Emerald

Saga - Ruby

Axia - Amethyst

Astrid - Opal

Alfsigr - Sapphire

Grid - Topaz

Gerdr - Aquamarine

Gunnhildr - Amber

Gunnvar - Moonstone

Aela the Lion - Sphalerite

Dagmar - Peridot