Chapter One: Ten years later
"Argus! Argus, wake up son!"
Argus drearily rubbed his eyes, gazing out the window next to his bed. The sun was out, so his father would have already gone to the forge.
Turning in front of him, he saw his mother standing at the foot of his bed, a smile on her beautiful face.
"Hi there, sleepyhead. Finally awake, thank goodness. I was worried I was going to have to douse you in water." She joked.
Argus sighed, lazily flopping onto his side.
"Oh leave me alone, mother. Give me another 10 minutes." He groaned.
Freyja giggled and slowly walked over to him, kneeling to his face.
"Why are you so tired? It's ten past eight. Normally you'd be up two hours ago, did you forget how important today is? You can't sleep in like this." Freyja chided.
"I can! It's my birthday. The birthday boy gets what he wants on his birthday, that's how it's always been." Argus whined, pulling his blanket over his head.
"You're right. The birthday boy gets what he wants, how could I forget? I guess I'll just have to give your presents to the other boys that come to your party today. If you want to stay in bed all day, you can. I know little Karl would love some of the things we got for you." Freyja slyly joked.
Argus flung his blanket off of him, shooting out of bed.
"Let Karl have my presents?! No way!" He exclaimed. There was no way that he'd let Karl beat him again, not after last night.
Freyja laughed, shaking her head. She knew exactly how to play him. Argus was one of the most competitive and toughest little boys that the globe had ever seen. All you had to do was imply some kind of challenge, and he'd be all over it.
"Good. Now, get dressed properly. Your father wants to see you at his forge, to say happy birthday and give you a gift. He's going to be working today, so he won't be able to go to your party." Freyja explained.
Argus hurriedly discarded his nightclothes, taking his daily attire out of a large oak dresser next to his bed. His room was large and elaborate, with a bear fur carpet at the foot of his bed, a large chest full of toys, a fantastic family portrait on the wall, a bookshelf full of stories of war and heroes, and a fireplace on the other side of the room. It was one of the biggest rooms in their estate.
"Really? He can't even take a day off on my birthday? I'm ten today. Does he care?" Argus asked, hurling his night clothes onto the bed. He had decided to wear his usual favorite, a black tunic, and pants.
Freyja sighed and wrapped her hand around one of the bedposts, running her hands over it.
"Argus. You know why he can't. He does important work for the king himself. It's how we afford to live in this wonderful house, it's how we afford to live in the capital. Fjellstad isn't cheap." She explained.
Argus scoffed, looking her in the eyes. He could quote that response verbatim if he had to. It was the same one she always used. Dad had important work to do for the king, he always did. Always at the forge, from morning until night.
"Like it'd matter even if he was here. He just stares, he doesn't even listen to what you say to him." Argus said.
"Go easy on your father, Argus. He's.. he goes through a lot. All we have is because of him. Now, go see him and come back." She stated, walking out of his room. Argus couldn't help but feel a little guilty, he didn't like making his mother upset.
She loved his dad, and Argus didn't hate him, but at the same time, he didn't feel like he knew him.
For as long as he could remember, he rarely spoke to him. He'd come home from the forge, eat dinner, say a few words to his mother, and then go to bed. Occasionally he'd ask him how his studies were going, or make a small token attempt at conversation, but these attempts would scarcely lead to anything. He always thought his dad didn't like him that much.
He appreciated what his dad did for their family, working hard so that they could have a nice house and food on the table, though. Occasionally his mother would tell stories about a place called Sølvvann that they lived at when he was a baby. It was cold, and there wasn't much to eat. He was thankful that he didn't have to grow up there. But, sometimes he wondered what it had been like if he'd grown up there instead. The capital was a bustling place, full of life and activity, but he'd give it all up for a father that loved him. That loved him more than the forge, or making swords, or talking to the king for hours on end.
SMACK
Argus was drawn out of his thoughts by the smack of a pebble at his window.
"Huh? It's not raining, is it?" Argus asked himself, strolling over to it. It had better not been, there wasn't much cover between the estate and his dad's forge.
SMACK
Opening up the window in his room, Argus looked around. His room was on the second story of their estate, something that he had demanded ever since he could talk. The first book he had ever read was by General Hans Mortensen, the Southern Isle's most famous military mind of all time. He learned that it was always better to get the high ground.
Down on the path outside was a boy with short, tidy red hair. Tall for his age, but not as tall as Argus, this boy was wearing a coat that imitated the long coat worn by The Southern Isles military, most likely stitched by his mother. On his head was an officer's cap, far too big for him.
It was Karl, his best friend.
"Hey! Still sore from last night?" He called from the street below.
Argus smiled cheekily.
"You only won because you cheated. A leg sweep is not something a good soldier does in a fight. I thought you followed the rules?" He sniped back.
"That was because you kicked me and I fell over! I had to swing at your leg, it was the closest thing there was." Karl replied.
Argus looked over his shoulder, to make sure his mother wasn't listening in. The last thing he needed was for his parents to figure out what he was getting up to at night.
"Mother has been asking why I've been sleeping in. Maybe we need to start going earlier?" Argus suggested, climbing up to sit on the windowsill.
"But that's the only time we can all get away without getting in trouble. You're a famous blacksmith's son, remember? People watch you." Karl replied.
Argus sighed in frustration.
"I know. It's so stupid."
Karl stepped closer to the house so that he didn't have to project his voice as hard.
"Happy birthday, by the way. You wanna play tag or go see what the other kids are doing?" He offered.
"Nah. Mother said I have to go to the forge and see my father. Wanna come with?" Argus replied.
Karl's eyes widened in excitement.
"You mean I can go into the forge of Alaric Skadelig? The place where the finest weapons in all the world are forged? Where the talented next generation of blacksmiths are trained?" He excitedly blurted.
Argus chuckled to himself.
"You heard your brother say that, didn't you? There's no way you came up with that sentence by yourself."
"He got a sword from there once, he was on a waiting list for three months and it cost him a year's wages. But it's the coolest sword ever! Of course, I wanna go, why didn't you take me there before?" He asked, hopping up and down in place excitedly.
"'cause I'm usually not allowed," Argus said with a shrug.
He stretched and yawned again, before gesturing towards his home.
"Come in, I'm sure there's some fresh bread for us to have before we go. I'm hungry."
Climbing out of the window sill and back into his room, Argus walked out and into the hallway. The hallway was large, with numerous paintings depicting famous battles in global history, and a small figurine of Hans Mortensen that his father had carved for him a while ago. The paintings were also to appeal to him, commissioned by his mother. Much of the house's overall décor was to his taste and his liking, a testament to how much his parents loved him. Descending the staircase, which was long and curved, he entered the kitchen.
It was a large, spacious room, with an equally large table, a fireplace, and a sink, alongside the door leading to the yard. The walls were lined with jars full of fruits, vegetables, and preserves. A large counter with a cupboard above was on the wall opposite the fireplace. On top of it was a basket with some excellent-smelling bread in it.
"Karl, hurry up. What're you waiting for?" Argus shouted impatiently.
After a moment, Karl timidly entered the kitchen.
"I didn't want to be disrespectful to your mother by just barging in, Argus." He said, trying to justify his tardiness.
Argus dismissively waved at him, throwing a chunk of bread. Karl caught it without even looking at it, he always had excellent hand-eye coordination.
"Don't worry, she's already gone. She's gone to her apostasy already. Plus, you can just come and go as you like. My parents know you." He replied.
"I think you mean apothecary, Argus," Karl replied, trying to stifle a laugh.
Argus rolled his eyes.
"Whatever, you know what I mean. The healer's place. She'll be back in a bit for my party."
"Don't you read a lot of books? How'd you mess that up? Have you been slacking on your study again?" Karl chided.
Argus rolled his eyes again, but so hard they threatened to leave his skull. Karl was always on his case about doing right by his parents. He loved his mother, she knew he loved him. But he didn't always have to do what they told him, he was his
own boy.
"God, Karl. I get one word wrong and you start acting like I'm itinerant. The books I read use simple words to get the point across and have a lot of diagrams. That's all I need." He replied, in an annoyed tone.
"I think you mean illiterate. You're a Mortensen fanboy, right? You know he was famous for his swordsmanship
and his mind. He wasn't just really cool with a blade, he was smart too. He did what his parents told him to." Karl explained.
"I don't remember seeing 'did what his mummy and daddy said' in the books I've read, Karl. You wanna go to this forge, or what?"
He stated, trying to change the subject.
Karl nodded his head and hurriedly stuffed the bread into his mouth, trying to get it down.
After the two finished their breakfast, they left the estate.
The estate was in the wealthier section of Fjellstad, Kongsgård. Situated near the castle itself, it was where the upper crust of the kingdom lived. One of the few benefits of the King's incredibly high taxes is that the nice parts of the Kingdom were very nice. The roads of Kongsgård were paved with smooth grey stone and were kept in excellent condition. The houses were all of brick, wood, or stone, and were kept immaculate and tidy.
On the other hand, the rest of the city was dirty and crowded, and loud. Slummen, the poorest and dirtiest part of the city was where Karl called home. The quietness and cleanness of the streets were not something he was used to.
"It's weird how quiet it is in Kongsgård," Karl noted to himself.
Argus shrugged in reply.
"I guess you're not used to that, are you?" He replied.
"No, not at all. There's usually more screaming. 'APPLES! APPLES FOR SALE! COME GET YA CARROTS!'" Karl shouted, doing his best impression of a street merchant.
Argus laughed in response.
"Yeah, you're right. But that's why I like that we train there. There's always something going on, here it gets too quiet. You see fat people walking around, royal entourages from other kingdoms. I don't find that interesting." He explained.
"Don't you want to be a soldier? A soldier does what his King tells him to do, that's what my dad and brother say. You should pay attention to what the other royals do, how they treat their soldiers. You could learn something." Karl opined.
"That's not what Hans did. Hans killed his king and then became king himself, and did whatever he wanted." He retorted.
"Yeah, and that's called treason, I learned about that at school," Karl explained.
They walked down a street lined with large stores. One sold ornate horse saddles, another sold large, fancy boots, and yet another sold fancy
jewellery. All of them were run by the merchant class, rich, successful business owners. These were the sorts of immoral businessmen that Argus despised. Rich, fat, lazy layabouts that just collected money and didn't do anything. He wagered they didn't spend much time with their kids, either.
Karl noticed Argus's gaze turning towards them as they walked past.
"Why do you hate this place so much, Argus? You should be happy. You have money, you don't go hungry or have to deal with scary people." Karl asked.
"Because it doesn't feel real, Karl. I don't want to be like them. Useless and lazy, 'educated'. That's what my father and mother want, for me to be 'educated'. I want to be cool, like your older brother or Hans Mortensen. I want to be somebody who is remembered for all the things he did with his sword, not the big words he could remember." Argus ranted. He spat the word 'educated' like it was a curse.
Before he could continue to rant, they had arrived at his father's workshop. A large door with a carving of a hammer and anvil loomed over them, and a gilded sign was next to it.
"Official Forge of His Royal Highness Gustav Westergaard."
Argus turned to face Karl, pointing at the sign in bemusement.
"My dad runs it, but it has the King's name on it." He noted.
Opening the large doors, but not without some effort, the two boys walked in. The front entrance had a large desk with a countertop behind it, with a large logbook visible. This is where the orders were processed. Standing at the desk was a very attractive and curvaceous woman. Argus had seen only seen her a few times, she always doted over him in an overly theatrical way. He was bright enough to see through the pantomime, she was only kind to him to try and curry favor with his father. Her sole job at the Forge was to be eye candy for potential clients, to entice them in.
He had heard his father complain about her presence on numerous occasions, it was the King's idea, not his.
She smiled as she saw the two boys enter the building.
"Argus, my dear! Your father has guests, but he told me to let you through. Who's your little friend?" She cooed.
"This is Karl, my best friend. He's coming in with me." He stated, gesturing further into the building.
"Oh, I can't do that. If he doesn't have business here or he's not a guest, I can't let him through. Can't have any old person walking in."
"They let you in.." Argus muttered to himself.
The overly friendly woman either didn't hear or pretended not to hear, instead continuing to look at him with an aggressive smile.
"He's a guest. Of mine, because he's with me. And.. we're going in. Bye." Argus dismissively said, walking further into the building.
Karl gave the woman a polite wave as he passed her by.
"I'm sorry to bother you." He politely stated.
She simply smiled at him and nodded, before picking up a nearby book that she had been reading. She was clearly no more interested in being there than Alaric was in her hiring.
"That woman, Karl. If her dress were any tighter she'd burst out of it. My father is right to be annoyed that she has to be there." Argus complained.
The two boys walked down a lengthy hallway leading to the main production room, the sounds of metallic clanging echoing around them. They were about to enter the main production room,
where all the magic happened. The place where his father spent all his time.
Karl was spinning his head around wildly, trying to take in each and every detail of the place.
"Calm down, Karl. This is just a hallway. You're not going to miss anything." Argus laughed.
"Argus, I suppose this place isn't special to you because your dad owns it. But to me, it's.. it's like looking at where God made people." He replied, in awe.
Argus stopped walking for a moment, thinking.
"I've heard a lot of people talk about how cool the stuff my dad and his apprentices makes is. Guess it doesn't really mean anything to me." He stated.
Gazing at the door to the production room, Karl turned to face his friend.
"You mentioned that your dad doesn't let you come here much. Why?"
Argus gazed at Karl, rolling his eyes. He was getting a little tired of all this talk about his dad's workshop, but he was the one that invited him, so he had to humour his questions.
"I dunno. I don't mess with his tools or bother the people that work with him, so its not because of that. Between you and me, I don't think my dad likes the King much. He comes around the workshop to talk to him often, I don't know about what. He mustn't want me to be 'exposed to him', or whatever." He explained.
Karl looked off into the distance for a moment, attempting to recall something.
"I think I've heard my brother talk about things the King did. He says he serves as a soldier to help the people, not him. My father always gets mad when he says stuff like that." He explained.
"What happened to soldiers doing what the King told them to?" Argus scoffed.
Karl shook his head.
"You can do what you're told without liking it, you know." Karl responded.
"To hell with that, Karl. Do what you like, or don't do it." Argus retorted.
As they spoke, the door to the workshop opened quietly, so quietly that they barely heard it. An intimidating presence loomed over them, a tall and grim looking man with a military coat. His hair was platinum blonde and short, his face scarred from years of fighting. He glared at the two boys, his face not betraying any emotion. His face didn't even look capable of emotion, frozen in a state of pure apathy.
Argus recognised the man, having seen him speak to his father on multiple occasions. If his father disliked the king, he despised this man. Argus didn't understand him very well, but he guessed that he was sent to crack the whip, to keep him in line and working.
"Argus. You are expected. Come in." The man stated.
"My friend is coming with." Argus replied, gesturing towards Karl. Karl was frozen, staring up at the man in awe.
The grim faced man looked down at Karl, studying him intensely, as if he was trying to remember him from somewhere.
"Ginger hair, docile demeanour. You are Henrik's younger brother, the trainee soldier." The man stated in a dull monotone.
"Y-Yes sir, I am. I w-would like to accompany my friend, but I und-und-understand if that can't happen." Karl stammered.
The man smiled, but his eyes did not smile with him, making it seem insincere and uncanny. He was attempting to comfort him, but did not have the ability to do so.
"You show respect. You may enter. Your king is speaking to the blacksmith. You will bow and you will not speak out of turn. Go." The man stated, stepping out of the way of the door.
The two boys shuffled past him, Karl giving the giant of a man a final nervous glance before entering the main production room. The main production room was grand and magnificent, with multiple forges lining the walls, apprentices and workers flitting between them. There were tools and machines, things Argus did not understand, placed and ordered in a professional manner. This was a smooth and professional operation. The room was well ventilated, but yet still felt immensely hot.
"They'll be in the office in the back, come on!" Argus shouted, trying to be heard over the cacophonous metallurgy taking place. Turning to face his friend, he found that he was looking all over, eyes wide and mouth agape.
Argus almost felt a little jealous, he wished that he could take that much enjoyment in his father's work.
"C'mon, Karl. It's hot as hell in here. I wanna get this done and get out!" Argus whined, tugging on his friend's arm. Karl turned to him, his wide eyed expression turning into pure happiness.
"This.. is… AWESOME! Look at that, over there! That Bastard Sword. An-and that helmet! The stuff the soldiers and guards used to have is nothing compared to this, your father is a genius! To be able to see it made, to see where the tools that protect our Kingdom are constructed.. thank you, Argus. You may be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but you're my friend." Karl enthused, pulling his friend in for a hug.
Argus couldn't help but crack a smile, as annoyed as he was at the 'jerk' comment.
"Yeah, yeah. Who's birthday is it today? I could have sworn it was mine, but I think you've gotten the best gift so far. Now, get off of me. You're sweaty from the heat. Let's go talk to my dad and get out of here." Argus chuckled, pushing Karl off of him.
The two boys flitted between the workers, trying not to get in their way. Even whilst a king visited, work did not stop. The workshop had been working at this pace for as long as he could remember, they didn't even get a day off for Christmas.
The workers paid the boys no mind, even though they were walking through their workplace. They were so focused on their work, meeting their quota, that they didn't pay them any mind.
Approaching the back, they saw the door to the office. Opening the door, the two boys entered.
The office was a small, cramped room, with a desk, a small bookshelf, and a painting of a dreary looking village on the wall. It was clean and tidy, a sign that his father spent little time in it, otherwise it would be stained and dirty like his hands and tools.
"It has been ten years, Gustav. Yet, nothing has happened."
"Blacksmith, I leave the rhythmic smacking of metal together to you, why don't you leave executive decisions to me? Things will progress in due time. To initiate anything before we are ready is foolish." The king chided.
They hadn't noticed Argus and Karl yet, nor had they noticed the intimidating man returning to the King's side.
"The Prince of Nordhjem is in the kingdom, and he visited this very workshop today. The relationship between our two nations is finally starting to heal, by your own hand, no less. Yet, you still want to instigate conflict with them? Make it make sense to me, your highness." Alaric asked.
Gustav theatrically sighed and shook his head.
"I fear that I cannot make it make sense to you, blacksmith, for your simple mind was made for manual labour and not political intrigue and the game of chess that we play as monarchs, but I shall endear to try. Prince Halfdan of Nordhjem is being groomed to take over the throne in his wretched little fiefdom, and shall do so when he marries in the coming months. It was his father that seceded from our alliance a decade ago, and it was also he who disrespected our great land by disagreeing with the.. financial requests made unto him by me. However, his father is soon to shuffle from the mortal coil. He has been struck ill, and I hope it's by crotch rot." The King started.
"If it was his father that offended you, why do you insist on proceeding? I spoke to Prince Halfdan when he visited the Workshop on his tour. He bares us no ill-will, I do not believe that he would wage any kind of war against us, and even if he tried, we are a much larger nation than them, they'd surely lose." Alaric responded.
"Have you lost all semblance of courtesy? You didn't let me finish." The king whined.
The King's grim companion shot Alaric a glance, which made him quieten down. Argus couldn't help but feel a little disgusted at how easily his father was intimidated by this man, where was his backbone?
"As I was saying. Prince Halfdan will be taking the crown of Nordhjem in a few months, after he marries a woman from The East called Qe..Qu.. soldier, what was her name?" Gustav asked, turning to his companion.
"Qianhua." He brusquely stated.
"Yes, yes. Qianhua. A beautiful oriental flower, from a far away land. He was on some obnoxious trip to 'find himself' on a seafaring vessel, and crashed. He found Lungshan instead. There, he met this Princess. I have not been there, but I have sent men there and the reports are.. harrowing. They told me outlandish tales, an Emperor with the powers of a God, who has reigned for a thousand years. Each of his children, including this..Qianhua.. also allegedly have magical powers. Not only that, they have quite the formidable army. Tell me, Blacksmith. Do you think it prudent to have a kingdom allied with a place like this so close to our borders?"
Before Alaric could answer, he finally noticed the two boys, drawing attention to them with his gaze.
"Argus, you came. Happy birthday, son." Alaric stated with little emotion.
King Gustav turned to face the two boys, causing Karl to immediately bow.
"Ah! The blacksmith's boy. Yes, I was aware of this. Happy birthday to you!" The King gregariously said.
"What were you talking about?" Argus asked, addressing the king. The lack of formality in his statement made Karl gasp, but the King seemed amused.
"Why, the kingdom's future of course. Did you hear what we were talking about?" He asked, kneeling to face him.
"A little bit." Argus replied. Although he wouldn't admit it, he was just as in awe of the king's presence as Karl was. He didn't have a lot of respect for authority, but he was still the King Gustav Westergaard of the Southern Isles, a man that commanded a lot of power. He couldn't let it show, though. He wasn't like his father, he had a spine. He stood up for himself.
"Well, boy. Do tell me your thoughts." The King asked, a sinister smile slowly spreading across his face.
Alaric shifted uncomfortably in place as he watched the two interact.
"If this Lungshan place is so strong, we shouldn't let them move in next door. Maybe we should pretend that things are okay between us and Lungshan, and then attack them when they least expect it. That way we can take it, and then make those guys from Lungshan go away." Argus stated.
"Son, you don't know wh-"
Before Alaric could chastise his son, The King cut him off.
"Well, Blacksmith. It appears that intelligence is a recessive gene in your family, what a most genius plan." Gustav said, patting Argus on his shoulder.
Argus looked towards Karl, who looked back at him in shock. He couldn't help but smile, the King himself liked his plan. Perhaps he could respect a man like him after all.
"You're a smart child, Argus. You looked me in the eye and spoke your piece. I'll be keeping my eye on you, boy. Perhaps you may have a future in my service." The King said with a devious smile, gesturing his intimidating companion to come with him.
Within the next moment, the two were gone, without even a goodbye.
Alaric exhaled long and hard, as if a deep weight had been lifted off of his chest. Slumping into his chair, he briefly placed his head in his hands before sighing again.
"Oh, my! That was the King, Argus! We got to meet the king!" Karl blurted out, almost jumping up and down with excitement.
"Yeah, we did. He's.. not what I thought he'd be." Argus replied with a small smile.
Alaric, removing his face from his hands, turned his gaze towards his son.
"I am sorry about that, Argus. I had hoped he'd be gone before you got here."
Argus shrugged in response.
"I don't understand why you hate him so much, father. He seems cool."
Alaric let out a short bitter laugh, closer to a quick exhale than a laugh.
"Sure."
There was an awkward pause before Karl stepped forward.
"You have a really nice workshop, Mister Skadelig. It's an honour to have been able to visit it!" Karl enthused.
Alaric stared at him, his expression unmoved.
"Thanks, Karl. How's your brother? He like that blade that we had made for him?" He asked.
"Yeah! He said it's the best one he ever had." Karl cheerfully replied.
Argus let the two talk for a moment. He could swear that Alaric liked Karl more than him, the way the two would chat.
"Ever since Argus saw your older brother marching with the other juniors, he's had a fascination for soldiers. That's how he met you, right? You were watching him march with the other boys in training." Argus opined.
"Why're we bringing up how Karl and I met, father?" Argus impatiently asked.
"I'm bringing up soldiers because I know you've been out pretending to be one at night again. I don't sleep much, I hear you leaving at night." Alaric explained.
Karl looked at Argus with a worried expression on his face. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to get Argus into trouble either.
"I know you, my son. You won't listen if I tell you to stop, so I'll make sure you're doing it with a proper blade." Alaric said, reaching under his desk.
He withdrew a short sword from under the desk. It had a metallic black handle, a dark blade and a skull on the hilt. The guard of the sword was ornate, with a pattern of a wolf engraved on it. It was practically a masterpiece.
"I doused it in oil when it was heated to get that black colour for you, I know Hans Mortensen had a blade of a similar make." Alaric explained, handing the blade to his son.
Argus held the blade in his right hand, rotating it to examine it.
"Happy birthday, son. Keep it in the scabbard when you're outside." He continued, tussling his boy's hair. Argus looked up at his father, unable to contain his happiness over his gift.
"That's really cool dad, thanks!" Argus exclaimed.
Alaric smiled, for what must have been the first time in a decade. The first connection with his son in a long time, he was happy. Even though it had to be through an avenue he'd rather not pursue, he was still overjoyed to make his son's day like that.
"Now hurry on home. You can't be late to your own birthday party." Alaric stated, sitting back down in his chair.
Argus's mood deflated slightly. Of course he was trying to get rid of him already.
"Yeah, you're right." He mumbled, turning to leave with Karl. As he reached the door, he turned back to face his old man.
"Y'know dad, I know you don't want me to be a soldier, but I'm gonna be one, and I'm gonna be a hero. This blade is going to help me do that. You'll change your mind when The Southern Isles are safe." He proclaimed.
Alaric glared at his son, his expression unmoved.
"The Southern Isles are already safe, Argus. We'll talk about it another time."
Argus shook his head and left the office with Karl, striding towards the way out. The workers were attending to their tasks with renewed vigour, undoubtedly spurred on by the King going by them. He most likely gave them a good talking too to motivate them to work harder, which Argus thought was a good idea.
He didn't think highly of the King before today, but after meeting him, he couldn't help but believe that the King had some wisdom. Nordhjem needed to be brought to heel, and this Lungshan place couldn't be allowed to just waltz up to their next door neighbours, even if they didn't vocalise any plans to attack. It was just too risky.
"Karl, my dad means well, but he's stupid." Argus said, walking at a brisk pace.
"The King is right. I spent my entire life thinking that he was an idiot, just because my father hated him. But he's actually smart. I should have known he'd be smart, because my father didn't want me to see him. The opposite of what my father says is usually the right idea, I think."
Karl, who was still trying to survey as much of the workshop as possible, was struggling to keep up.
"Don't be so hard on him. A stupid man couldn't run the best workshop on the planet." Karl replied.
"Does he even run it anymore? I see his apprentices and workers doing all of the work while he sulks in his office. If he could read, he'd see that his name isn't even on the front door." Argus retorted.
"He made that sword you're carrying, didn't he?" Karl noted.
"Maybe he did. Or maybe he got one of his workers to do it, who knows?" Argus replied with a shrug.
The two boys made their way out of the main building, coming past the front desk.
The woman didn't even look up from her book this time, not even feigning interest at the goings on of the workshop.
They stopped outside the front door, turning to face each other.
"I couldn't care less about this party now, Karl." Argus sighed.
Karl looked at Argus's new blade, which was sheathed on his waist.
"The party probably won't go that long, then we can go spar after it. Henrik has the day off today, we could go meet up with him and get some practice in." Karl offered.
Argus opened his mouth to protest, before thinking of his mother. His mother was the one organising his birthday party, and she would be disappointed in him if he flaked to go play with swords instead.
"Yeah, you're right. Lets go." Argus said, gesturing off into the distance.
The two boys set off walking again, re-tracing their steps back towards Argus's home.
"You made an impression with the King. I wonder if any of his sons will come to your party?" Karl wondered out loud.
Argus scoffed.
"Pfft. I doubt it. All of his sons are way older than me." Argus replied.
They passed more people on their way back, most likely due to the King passing by. They were a mix of people personally maligned by him, and ardent loyalists. All of them were too late to see him, as he had long gone. They made travel back to Argus's home a slog, though.
"His youngest son is a bit younger than us. His name is Hans, funnily enough." Karl explained.
"I doubt he's named after Hans Mortensen considering what he did to his king." Argus joked.
Passage back was getting slower and slower, as throngs of people got in the way.
"Damn it! We won't get to the party or to practice at this rate. The king's gone already, why are they hanging about?" Argus whined.
"The king attracts all sorts. He doesn't usually come to the Workshop during the day, so people usually don't see him come through. When its just him and his big bodyguard, it's kinda suspicious I guess." Karl said with a shrug.
They pushed through the crowd a bit more, before reaching an impasse.
"Think I can cut all these people down and get past?" Argus said with a frightening smile.
"No." Karl flatly replied, surveying the area.
"See over there?" He said, pointing to an alleyway.
"I know that alley. I cut through there sometimes, it leads to a broken fence that you can climb to get into Slummen. We can cut through there and then loop back to your place, it's a bit of a detour but it'll be quicker than waiting for them to leave." Karl suggested.
Argus glared through the crowd, trying to find some kind of opening. There was none.
"Yeah, alright. Lets go." Argus stated, squishing past people towards the alley.
With a bit of effort, the two boys made it to the alley, heading down it.
It was a dingy, squalid little place, it wasn't paved and the grass was yellowed and dead.
There were a few men laying down, presumably sleeping off the previous nights drunken debauchery.
"We're still in Kongsgård, yet there's this? It always surprises me." Karl said, his tone portraying mild disgust.
Argus, carefully stepping over the men's legs, laughed in response.
"You think just because we're in the nice part of town that men don't drink? The only thing that changes is the price of the stuff they're having." Argus replied.
They continued down the alley, being faced by the fence that Karl mentioned.
"Just go under it, it's easier." Karl explained, sliding under it quickly.
Argus, ignoring his friends advice, scaled the fence. Placing his right hand on the top, he pulled himself up and over it, landing on his feet.
"We're in the real Slummen now, not the part on the outskirts where we practice. There's bad guys here, just walk quick and don't look at anybody." Karl instructed, looking around to check for danger.
Argus folded his arms and looked at his friend disapprovingly.
"Look at this blade I have. If anybody wants to mess with us, I say let them try."
Karl sighed and shook his head.
"One of these days you'll listen to me, Argus. The guys here don't care who you are, they'll gut a kid. Just walk with me." He explained, walking briskly away.
Argus followed his friend, swivelling his head around to survey his surroundings. This part of Slummen was definitely more derelict then the parts he usually hung out in. The houses were falling to pieces, homeless people littered the streets. The path was barely paved, with many stones missing from it. The people walking past them looked miserable, mean, or both. Many of them were carrying steel, some of them were even wearing armour. Argus's bluster about fighting withered very quickly, seeing these sorts of people. For once, he'd listen to his friend.
The aura of this area was palpable misery. This was true economic depression, unlike he had ever seen in his sheltered life.
"I didn't know it was this bad here." Argus stated quietly.
Karl nodded grimly.
"Keep walking. Things have always been bad in Slummen, you just never saw them." He replied.
They passed a rotting corpse, pressed against the door of an abandoned house.
Karl lifted the collar of his shirt to try and block the smell entering his nostrils.
It was the corpse of an emaciated man, his shirt was torn to shreds and he had only a pair of sack cloth pants to keep his modesty. He had no obvious wounds, he'd most likely died of starvation or illness.
"Ugh, oh man. You never get used to the smell of them." Karl exclaimed, squeezing his collar against his nose in a failed attempt to block the disgusting scent.
Argus stared at the corpse, tilting his head in slight interest.
"Huh. You get that a lot here?" He asked, surveying the old mans remains.
"Yeah. You've never seen it because we never go this far into Slummen, but it's fairly common." Karl replied.
"Then that's more a reason for us to follow the King's plan. Once we get Nordhjem back, and stop this mysterious place across the ocean, we'll have the money and power to protect people like this. Even if they're weak." Argus stated confidently.
"I hope you're right." Karl said, starting to walk again.
The two boys walked for a few minutes, passing intimidating character after intimidating character.
"We're not far from the Market. It's safer there, so we can rest easy then." Karl stated, keeping his brisk pace.
They started passing progressively more normal houses. They were still shoddy and rundown looking, but they stopped seeing rotting corpses and broken windows.
"I heard that the guards here take money from the Merchants, is it true?" Argus asked, trying to break the tension.
"Sure. They extort protection fees from them and then take money from the thugs around here to double dip. It's a good way to make money for them." Karl said.
"APPLES! APPLES FOR SALE! COME GET YA CARROTS!"
A man standing behind a stall shouted.
Argus burst out laughing.
"I didn't believe you, they actually say that? That was a good impression before."
The market was a much more lively place. People flitted about, merchants hawked their wares. It was far less unsettling than the scene they just left. It was a testament to the people of Slummen that they could seem so normal, with such terrible conditions not far away from them.
It was a giant open area, the only real open part of Slummen, the rest of it being claustrophobic streets and alleyways.
"Finally, we can breath again." Karl sighed, bending forward and placing his hands on his knees.
"I hate going through there."
Argus patted his friend on the back.
"We did it, though. Now we're in the normal part of Slummen. Well, as normal as this place gets."
Argus's stomach growled.
"I'm hungry again, shall we grab a bite here before we go back to my house?" He asked, searching around.
"That'd be good. I don't have any money on me, though. What do you have?" Karl asked.
Argus reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small sack of coins. He emptied them into his palm, counting them carefully.
"20 rigsdaler. That's plenty enough for something." He replied.
Karl put his index finger to his chin in a contemplative gesture.
"We could get some Frikadelle, perhaps." He suggested.
"Nah, not that hungry." Argus replied, shaking his head.
He searched around. Vegetable stalls, fruit stalls, dried meat and canned fish. There was just about everything a poor person could want to eat, but none of it really appealed to him.
His gaze was drawn to a young girl standing in front of a stall. Behind her was a giant stack of apples, in the shape of a pyramid. She nervously tugged at the sleeve of her dress, trying to work up the confidence to call out to people to approach. She had strawberry blonde hair, pale skin and striking bright green eyes, like a vibrant emerald. She looked the same age as him, was beautiful.
Karl noticed his friend's gaze, and gave him a sly smile.
"You totally like her, don't you? Go on and buy an apple then." Karl teased.
Argus gazed at the girl, not hearing his friends jeering. It was if the world around him ceased to exist, melting away, leaving just him and this girl. Her eyes met him, and she smiled, blushing slightly.
Her mouth moved, but Argus was too entranced to hear at first.
"P-pardon me?" He asked.
She spoke again, and he didn't hear her the second time either, albeit this time due to the hustle and bustle of the place. He approached her slowly, nervously rubbing his hands together.
"Hi." She said with a radiant smile.
"Hello." Argus replied quickly, trying to maintain eye contact with her.
"I'm not selling many apples today. I find it so hard to talk to get people's attention, everybody just walks right past." She lamented.
"Just raise your voice and yell like everybody else, surely somebody will hear you." Argus replied.
"I'd just make my throat sore. What's your name? You look different to everybody else here." She asked.
Argus stood up straight, trying to obscure his nervousness. He had a tightness in his chest that was alien to him, was he actually nervous? About a girl?
"I'm Argus Skadelig. Son of Alaric Skadelig, the blacksmith. Who are you?" He stated.
"I'm Josefine." She replied.
Argus tilted his head in confusion.
"Everybody has a last name. Are you somebody's pet? What's yours?" He asked.
Josefine giggled.
"What an odd thing to say. It's Moller." She replied.
"Good, now we're introduced properly." Argus said with a smile.
She giggled again.
"I guess we are. I don't suppose you're hungry, are you? I need to sell a few of these today." She said, gesturing towards the neat pile of Apples.
Argus forced all of the money into her hand, and took two apples.
"Sure, my friend and I want a snack."
Josefine examined the money in her hand, gasping after counting it.
"This is way too much for just two apples! Take the rest of it back." She insisted, trying to hand it back to him.
He batted her hand away, shaking his head in the process.
"Keep it. You said I don't look like the others here, because I'm not. I'm gonna change this place. Remember my name." He exclaimed.
He was exaggerating to cover for how nervous he was, although she seemed to be eating it up. At least, he hoped she was.
She smiled, kissing him on the cheek. His entire face went crimson, making him turn away quickly to obscure it. After turning his head, he saw Karl trying to stifle laughter. Argus shot him a look that could kill a Dragon.
"Well, I will remember the name of my hero. Me and my parents will be able to eat tonight because of this. Thank you, Argus." She said warmly.
"Yeahsuredon'tworryaboutitbye" He mumbled, quickly jogging off.
Karl gave her a friendly wave before following his friend.
"Ha! You have some charm after all." Karl laughed.
"Eat your damn apple and shut the hell up." Argus groaned, shoving the apple into his chest.
The two boys walked briskly through the market, making their way out and towards the gates to Kongsgård
They didn't exchange many words, instead focusing on their apples. For a fruit grown in Slummen, they tasted pretty good.
"Do you think she likes me?" Argus asked.
Karl stopped still for a minute, wiping some of the juices of the apple from his mouth.
"Oh yeah. You were very gallant, giving her that money like that. Girls like it when boys do nice things for them."
Argus smiled cockily.
"I should go back and invite her to my party. She'd totally come."
Karl slapped his friend on the shoulder and chuckled.
"Two things. One, you don't have the guts. Two, she's working."
Argus laughed and slapped Karl, who responded with a soft strike to the chest.
The two boys then grappled, roughhousing with one another and laughing.
Argus threw the core of his apple at Karl, who deflected it with his forearmed and shoved him back.
"Your defence still sucks!" Argus exclaimed, pointing at Karl's forearm.
"What? I blocked it. That's good defence." Karl incredulously replied.
"Shouldn't have hit you at all!" Argus countered.
"A good soldier would have blocked and countered, Karl. Close, though." A deep voice said.
The boys turned around. A tall young man with shoulder length red hair stood before them, Henrik. Karl's older brother. He was tall, wearing leather armour with the insignia of the Southern Isle Military on it, the typical uniform of the junior soldiers.
"Big brother!' Karl exclaimed, jumping towards him for a hug. Henrik caught him, pulling his younger brother into his embrace.
"Hey, kid." He cooed.
He looked past Karl to Argus.
"How're you doing, Argus? I was just heading towards your father's estate for your birthday. What are you two doing in Slummen?" He asked.
"We took a shortcut from my father's workshop through Slummen, there were too many people." He explained.
Henrik released his younger brother, looking down at the two boys.
"What've you got there? A blade?" Henrik asked, pointing at Argus's sword.
Argus quickly withdrew the blade from its sheath, handing it to Henrik.
"Hilt first." Henrik chided.
Argus wordlessly spun the sword around, handing it to him properly. Henrik was one of the only people he truly respected and followed without question.
Henrik moved the sword around, inspecting every angle of it. Placing both hands on it, he took a few small mock swings, nodding with approval.
Handing it back to him, he smiled.
"That's a fine blade. That the one you're gonna wield to defend The Southern Isles one day?" He asked.
Argus nodded and gave him a big, toothy smile.
"Yeah!"
Henrik gestured towards the gates to Kongsgård.
"We're already late to this party, we'd better get a move on."
The guards at the Kongsgård gates let them through without question, recognising Argus.
They walked the much nicer paths of Kongsgård, coming upon the Skadelig estate quickly.
The smell of cake wafted out the windows as they approached.
"Your mum has already got the cake out! Lets get in there." Karl exclaimed, rushing through the front doors. Henrik and Argus followed, heading through the entrance hallway to the kitchen. Freyja stood at the table, numerous people were seated at it. A few children he vaguely recognised, most of them being the kids of Freyja's friends, or other children he was tutored with. Their parents were there too, many of their fathers too.
"Happy Birthday!" They exclaimed.
Argus threw his hands in the air, pretending to be excited.
"Hurrah!" He exclaimed.
The children excitedly chatted between themselves, clearly more interested in the cake than Argus himself. He had an equally shared lack of interest in them, too.
Freyja approached him, kissing him on the forehead.
"Happy birthday again, my son. Was your schedule full today? You're late." She sarcastically complained.
"I'm 10 years old, now. I'm busy now." He replied, matching her wit.
She scrunched her face up at him in faux outrage, before turning to greet Henrik and Karl.
While she did that, Argus slinked away. He had no interest in talking to any of these kids, he just wanted to get his presents and go train. They were sitting in a pile, near a window. He wouldn't be able to get to them without getting in trouble, he'd have to leave them until later.
He noticed a young boy, younger than him and the others, sitting by himself. He had auburn hair, green eyes, and stared at the ground dejectedly. Something about this boy drew his attention.
Argus approached the boy, sitting next to him. He didn't raise his head to acknowledge him.
"Why're you so sad looking? What's your name?" Argus asked.
"Nobody here will talk to me." The boy responded.
"Have you tried talking to them?" Argus replied, looking around at the other boys.
"I don't really care about them, but they seem nice 'nough. Just say hi." Argus offered.
The boy looked up, making eye contact with Argus. Argus couldn't see an ounce of strength in the kid, he was meek. Pathetic.
"I'm.. I'm Hans. Prince Hans." He stammered.
Argus's eyes widened.
"Really? Where are your guards? The King just dumped you here?" Argus asked, not believing him.
Hans shrugged.
"My dad doesn't like me. Nobody does. My brothers are all bigger than me and they beat me up a lot and call me names."
Argus bristled in his seat.
"Don't take that nonsense. Don't take anything from anyone, ever." Argus stated.
"How? I'm not strong." The boy whimpered.
Argus pointed at Henrik, poking Hans to get his attention.
"See that guy there? He's smart. He's got a saying. There will always be somebody bigger than you, stronger than you, faster than you. But, one thing that you can do that nobody else can is work harder. Those guys get lazy. If you're not strong, be smarter. Work on that."
Hans looked at Argus, his eyes wide and reverent.
"You're cool. That's a good idea. One day they'll.. they'll see who I can really be." Hans stated ominously.
Argus smiled and slapped him on the back.
"I am cool, you're right. Take my advice on board."
Henrik approached the two.
"I hope you're being nice to the prince, Argus." Henrik said.
"He is! ." Hans smiled.
"Good." Henrik replied, smiling back.
"Argus said you're smart. There's another person with the same name as me, Hans Mortensen. My older brothers bully me by saying I'll never be him. Who is he?" He asked.
Henrik chuckled.
"I hear that name every day from this guy right here." He said, poking Argus in the shoulder.
"Hans Mortensen was born right here in the Southern Isles 250 years ago. He had poor parents, grew up in a small village. Lived the life of a peasant. Eventually, he joined the army to try and make some money for his family. The king was a bad guy, and he did bad things for him. He decided that he didn't want to work for somebody so evil, so he killed him. He saved the people of the Southern Isles, and redeemed himself." Henrik explained.
"He did what he wanted, and didn't take anything from anyone. That's how I live my life." Argus proudly stated.
"I don't think you were paying attention, if that's what you got from his story." Henrik chuckled.
Hans stared at Henrik in interest, absorbing everything he could.
"Are you going to have any cake?" Freyja asked, approaching them.
Freyja handed Argus a plate, he took a small bite out of the cake. It was sweet, which he despised, but his mother went out of the way for him, so he was going to eat it.
"The King just dumped him here, pretty much. No guards or anything, just one of the princes in my home. It makes me nervous." She murmured.
"The idealist in me would say that it's because he trusts you, the cynic would say it's because he's the youngest, and thus the most disposable." Henrik replied, attempting to keep his words out of Hans's earshot.
"What a terrible way to view one's children." Freyja said with a frown.
The party, such as it was, was dying down. There was hardly a party to begin with, the other boys hadn't even said a word to Argus. They were just there for the cake, and to go inside their nice home.
"They're already starting to go home, good." Argus enthused, watching the children and their parents filter out of the home, exchanging polite goodbyes to his mother.
"You didn't even try to talk to any of them, Argus. You should try and make more friends than just Karl." Freyja scolded.
"They didn't try to talk to me, either! They just wanted the cake, mother. Let 'em go home." He said with a shrug.
As the last of the children left the home, the familiar face of King Gustav's bodyguard entered their abode, striding right in as if he owned the place.
"Hans. Come with me." He demanded brusquely. Wordlessly, Hans jumped to his feet and approached the door.
Freyja froze, staring at the giant of a man as he took Hans away. She was afraid of him, just like his father was.
"Argus, you will come too. The King wants your audience." The man continued.
Freyja took a steadying breath, as if to steel herself for what was coming next.
"Is that necessary, sir? He's.. can the King see him tomorrow?"
Henrik shot her a surprised look, quickly shaking his head. His position in the army meant he had more experience dealing with this man than any of them, he knew this'd bother him. Karl stood quietly too, surveying the situation. His brother had told him all about this guy.
"Come on, Argus. The king wants to see you. This is a good opportunity for you." Henrik enthused, kneeling down to face him.
"Yeah, I'm fine mother. I won't be long." Argus replied reassuringly.
Freyja sighed and pushed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, trying to hold back her tears. He had never seen his mother like this, she did not want to see him go with this man.
Argus softly gripped his mother's hand, before leaving the estate with the man.
Argus and Hans walked with him, attempting to keep up with his large strides. People didn't make eye contact with him as he passed, and he glared at every person who even vaguely entered his line of sight. He wanted to instil fear.
"What did the King want to talk to me about?" Argus asked, attempting to break the silence.
The man didn't respond, continuing his long strides.
"His name is Eskel, he doesn't say much unless he has too." Hans explained.
Argus was surprised that the boy a few years his junior was keeping up with him better than he was.
"Is he a soldier? He's dressed like one." Argus asked.
"Nuh uh. He's not. He wears armour and carries a sword, but he's not in the army. He bosses them around a lot, though. They can't tell him not too, either." Hans replied.
Argus raised an eyebrow.
This right hand man character was almost as powerful as the king himself, if he had unilateral authority over the military.
They walked for a few more minutes through Kongsgård. Their path was much quicker than the one that they'd taken before, people definitely cleared out of this man's path. The streets became steadily more opulent as they approached the castle, the Creme de la crème of all the Southern Isles.
Kronborg Castle, seat of King Gustav's power, a veritable fortress.
At first glance, the castle was intimidating, with massive cylindrical towers, each capped with an ornate spire, reaching high into the horizon. The reddish-brown brickwork of the castle walls contrasted sharply with the brilliant greens of the grassy embankments surrounding it, and the blue waters that shimmered nearby.
As they approached, the intricate details of the Renaissance architecture became more apparent. Elegant windows, with delicate stone tracery, punctuated the facade. Above the main entrance, a large coat of arms stood sentinel, bearing testimony to the castle's historical significance. Battlements ran along the edges, revealing the castle's original purpose as a military fortress. Yet, beyond its defensive exterior, there was a grandeur, a hint of the opulence that lay inside. The castle was not just a military stronghold, but also a royal residence, a place of banquets, plays, and dances. Although, Argus suspected that there hadn't been much art there in quite a while.
Eskel stopped before the door, turning to face Argus.
"Do not wander. Follow me, don't touch anything. Understood?" He asked.
Argus nodded, looking the man in the eyes. He wasn't frightened of him, looking into his eyes was an act of defiance, albeit not one that the man recognised, or seemed to actually care about.
The heavy wooden doors of Kronborg Castle groaned open as Eskel pushed them, revealing a world that seemed to be frozen in time. As they stepped over the threshold, the cold stone floors echoed with the soft patter of footsteps, resonating with memories of ages gone by. The air inside was cool and slightly musty, carrying a hint of wood, wax, and ancient tapestries.
The vast entrance hall stretched before them, illuminated by flickering torches in ornate sconces that threw dancing shadows on the walls. High ceilings with exposed wooden beams added to the grandeur, making Argus feel both humbled and awestruck. Magnificent tapestries adorned the walls, their vibrant colours and intricate patterns recounting tales of valiant knights, beautiful maidens, and fierce battles. Each weave and stitch seemed to whisper secrets from the past.
Heroes of The Southern Isles, enemies they had vanquished. Argus wished he could stand still and gaze at them for a while, seeing all the magnificent stories being told in front of him. But, he had to keep pace. He had a meeting.
Hans didn't pay attention to any of it, even a boy of his age was sick of them. He saw them every day, they weren't anymore interesting to him than the tree's one would see in their backyard.
As they ventured deeper into the castle, they passed through majestic chambers and long echoing corridors. The rooms were a harmonious blend of military austerity and royal splendour. Massive wooden tables, polished by time and use, stood ready to host feasts, while the glinting armour and weapons displayed in glass cases spoke of the castle's martial history. Intricately carved wooden panels, gilded frames, and portraits of stern-faced monarchs stared back, their eyes seemingly following every movement.
"I'll be painted here one day, Hans. Maybe you will too, if you do what I told you too." Argus enthused.
He did not receive a response, he turned around to see where the boy went. He was gone, he must have slinked away to his bedroom whilst Argus was gawking at things.
Eskel, noticing the fact that Argus had stopped, sharply pulled him back to reality.
"Skadelig. Hurry up." He demanded.
Argus jogged up to Eskel to catch up with him, continuing onward.
They stopped before a large set of wooden doors, this had to be the entrance to the throne room.
Eskel placed his right palm on the doors, pausing for a moment.
"Remember what you have been told. This is a privilege."
"I get it." Argus replied.
The massive double doors to the throne room swung open with a dignified creak, revealing a chamber that was the very heart of Kronborg Castle. It was here that power was wielded, decisions were made, and a kingdom's fate was sealed.
As the entered, Argus's gaze was immediately drawn to the far end of the room where the throne of King Gustav sat. It was an imposing sight, with its intricate carvings and gilded embellishments, reflecting the monarch's wealth and power. The room was otherwise sparsely furnished, with a few benches and tables scattered around.
"Ah, you arrived." He said with a smile.
Argus looked at Eskel, and then back at the king, bowing quickly.
"Such reverence! Stand. We have things to discuss." He said, rising from his throne to walk over to him.
The King turned to the other guards in the room, waving them off.
"Leave. This is for our ears only." He said, harshly.
As the guards filed out of the throne room, Argus felt a surge of nervousness. Was he in some kind of trouble? Perhaps the king didn't actually like his braveness at all, perhaps he wanted to have him dealt with.
What? No, stupid. He wouldn't have the son of Alaric Skadelig killed, no matter how much he threatened to have him replaced. He was too important.
"What did you want to talk to me about? He wouldn't tell me anything." Argus said, gesturing towards Eskel.
Gustav looked at his right hand man and smiled.
"He's handy, isn't he? Does exactly what he's told to do, not more, not less. He's a useful tool. Like your father." The king started, rising from his throne with noticeable effort.
"I lifted your father out of poverty, from some little nowhere town to the capital of the Isles. Gave him an estate, more money than a lowborn man like himself could ever hope to attain, an apothecary practice for your mother to sell her male bedroom enhancing salves and hay fever cures and the like. And, to your father's credit he has performed his job.. adequately. He has served his Kingdom.. sufficiently. But, you know, I find myself in need of people who can serve me better than adequately, Argus. I am looking towards our Kingdom's future. You may be a boy of only ten years old, but one day you'll be a man. I wonder what kind of man you shall be, hmm? One who settles for doing the minimum? Or one who truly does his best? Serves his Kingdom with distinction?"
Argus felt a sense of pride and responsibility wash over him at the king's words. He knew that he couldn't disappoint the king, his Kingdom and his people. He stood up straighter and met the king's gaze with determination.
"I will serve our Kingdom with distinction, Your Highness." He replied, his voice ringing clear and true in the throne room.
"Good. I have a task for you then." The king said, a twinkle in his eye.
Argus leaned forward, eager to hear what it was.
"Prince Halfdan had another.. ship crash. Unfortunate, really. It just so happened that it happened in our waters, near the docks. We've managed to recover him safely, and we've extended him the gracious offer of a stay in our dungeon. Do come with me now, hmm? Lets go visit him." The King ominously stated, gesturing towards a hallway.
Argus followed the king down the hallway with Eskel trailing behind them.
The path down to the dungeon was a departure from the splendour in the rooms above it, the once polished stone floors of the upper levels gave way to uneven cobblestones, cold and damp underfoot. The walls, no longer adorned with tapestries or art, were rough-hewn and moisture-streaked, the stones darkened with age and neglect. The air grew cooler, carrying a musty scent that hinted at mildew, old torch soot, and the unmistakable tang of iron.
Narrow slits in the thick walls occasionally allowed for a meager amount of light to penetrate, but they were few and far between. Instead, dimly lit torches in rusty brackets cast flickering shadows that danced and played tricks on the eyes, making the corridor seem longer and more winding than it was.
As they ventured further, the muffled sounds from the castle above became almost imperceptible, replaced by an eerie silence save for the distant drip of water and the soft echo of their own footsteps. The atmosphere grew thicker with tension and anticipation. The weight of countless secrets, long-buried tales of despair, and cries for mercy seemed to press in from all sides.
They passed a cell containing a haggard, disgusting old woman. She had a milky white eye, wizened features and a frail, weak looking body. She looked to be soaked in her own faeces and urine, babbling quietly to herself.
"Who's she?" Argus asked, stopping Gustav and Eskel.
Gustav looked at her in pure, unfettered disgust.
"Oh, that old crone? Funnily enough, she is from the same village your father is from. She compelled the village idiot to try and steal a sword from your father that he had made for me, he killed a farmer with it. It wasn't too hard to figure out it was her, she admitted to it. Hated him for reasons I do not are about, small town drama. She made the mistake of attempting to steal from me, however, and so here she stays. I could have had her hung years ago, but I'd much rather she.. stew over the issue. You cannot let people who disrespect you off easily, Argus." He explained.
Argus, satisfied with this explanation, kept walking.
"Not long now, just a few more cells down." Eskel stated, pointing to the far end of the dungeon. This cell was unlike the others, flanked by two elite looking guards. This was where the Prince was being held, no question.
As they approached, Argus could hear the muffled sounds of someone moving around inside the cell. The guards nodded in recognition as the King approached, and stepped aside to allow him to unlock the heavy iron door.
Inside, Prince Halfdan sat on a small cot, his face drawn and pale. His clothing was ragged and torn, and his hands were bound by thick manacles. He looked up as the group entered, his eyes narrowing as he recognised the King.
"There you are, explain yourself! Why did you sink my ship? We are not enemies, Gustav!" The Prince exclaimed.
"Silence, boy. You will address the King with respect" Eskel demanded.
The Prince scoffed at Eskel, he wasn't afraid at all.
"Oh shut up, lap dog. I'd respect this King if he was worthy of any respect. He broke a centuries long standing alliance over nothing, over nonsense. He wanted money for nothing, a tithe like we're in church. We are your neighbours, not your subjects." He shouted.
The King turned towards Argus, theatrically throwing his hands in the air.
"See what I have to deal with? He's incorrigible."
"We're the Southern Isles, we're the bigger kingdom. You should do what we tell you too." Argus retorted.
The Prince looked at the boy and sighed sadly, clearly feeling some form of pity for him.
"I dare to speak the truth. He has no right to demand a tithe from us. We are not his vassals. We have always been allies, but he broke that bond. He is a foolish man. He'll face the consequences of his actions." The Prince said, his voice ringing with conviction.
"This one of your kids? I don't recognise him. I bet he understands being a monarch better than you, though." The Prince defiantly jeered.
King Gustav smashed his fists against the bars of Halfdan's cell.
"Listen HERE you insolent piece of shit! Your little piss puddle of a kingdom wouldn't even be on maps if not for us, you're known as our neighbours, not as some great kingdom worthy of independence and respect. You think just because you married some magical eastern whore, that you can make stipulations on ME? On what I demand of you? If I say you pay us, you pay us. Your father was a fool to deny me, and you're twice the fool for not learning anything from his mistakes. I am twice the King he was, and 100 times the king you'll be. I won't accept just money anymore, little Prince. I'm coming for all of it. Nordhjem is now part of The Southern Isles. The time has finally come, we are ready to take over. I'm going to wipe you and your entire fucking bloodline from this earth. No rotten half-cast children for you, 'friend'. Eksel, open his cell."
Eksel opened Halfdan's cell, grabbing him at the back of his neck and twisting his arm, holding him in place.
"Go on then, kill me! See what happens! You may be able to take Nordhjem, sure. We aren't big, your army is stronger than ours. Go for it. But try keeping it, Gustav. My beautiful Qianhua will call upon her father, the Emperor of Lungshan. They have things you can't possible imagine, an army who's arrow barrages blot out the sun, magical powers, technology, science. They'll march up here and avenge me." Halfdan threatened.
Gustav looked at Argus, his gaze travelling to the short sword tied to his hip. A wicked smile crawled across his face.
"Argus. Ready to prove yourself?" He asked.
Argus looked at Halfdan, then to his sword, then back to Gustav.
"I.. I don't.." He stammered.
Gustav, noticing Argus's apprehension, placed his hands on Argus's shoulders.
"Son, in your father's office, you had a good plan. Stop Lungshan from moving in so close. This man cannot live. He cannot be allowed to further his own goals, to continue his disrespect." He explained.
"This doesn't surprise me in the least, Gustav. You tried to get King Agnarr to help you wage war against us, I know that much. He told me. Why wouldn't you have a child fight your battles for you?"
King Gustav turned to face Halfdan, his face twisting in contempt.
"Kill him, Argus." He growled.
Argus drew his blade, approaching Halfdan slowly.
"Kid, just walk away. Run. Run from this castle, run from this kingdom. It's doomed, it won't survive if this idiot is running it." Halfdan shouted.
"Shut up. Just.. Be quiet." Argus whispered, pointing the blade at Halfdan.
Argus's hands quivered as he pointed the blade at Halfdan, who's breath began to quicken. Under all his bluster and postulating, he didn't want to die. Argus could tell that this man didn't want to die, and that appealed to something within his soul. The blade, before light as a feather, was too heavy to lift. He couldn't do it.
But, he had too. For his kingdom, for his king, for his future. He didn't think this man was lying, a storm was coming to The Southern Isles, and it wasn't going to pass easily through the night.
It would be bloody, costly, and at any moment it could come crashing down on The Southern Isles. Somebody had to fight it.
"You're just a kid. You're just a little boy. Drop the blade and go home, go to your parents." The Prince whispered, trying to calm him.
Just a kid.
Just a little boy.
No.
No.
He was more than that. He was The Southern Isle's future. He was going to write his name in the history books, he was going to be remembered forever.
SHLKK!
Argus forced the blade into Halfdan's stomach, about three inches into it. Blood began to gently stain his shirt, running out of the wound and down his legs.
Halfdan gasped in surprise, staring at Argus wide eyed.
"I'm not going to let you or your friends destroy my home. DIE!" He shrieked, pushing the blade deeper. Eskel jumped out of the way, as the blade went deep into Halfdan's stomach and kissed his spine.
"Gah.. uhh.. W..Wh" He spluttered, grasping the fire forged metal that had been jammed into his midsection.
Argus twisted it, eliciting a sound similar to the tenderising of meat. Using all the strength he had, he pushed the blade to the left, causing a portion of his small intestine to exit his stomach and drape down his leg. The Prince fell to his knees, blood pouring out of his mouth.
King Gustav stared at the Prince's torment with twisted glee.
"Yes. YES! Finish him, boy!" He exclaimed.
Argus withdrew the short sword from his stomach, and swung it at his neck in an attempt to decapitate him. His youthful strength denied him this feat however, causing him to only mange to open his neck up. A copious amount of blood began pouring out of his neck, joining the puddle forming under him.
The Prince was too shocked to form words, simply trying to place his intestines back within his stomach in vain.
SCHLUCK!
Argus took a second swing at his neck, this time with more strength. The man's head became separated from his shoulders, albeit only half way, being held in place. The Prince's hands, which had been attempting to scoop up his own viscera, fell limply to his side, and he slumped forward. The rest of his innards slid out of his stomach in a sickening heap, with a quietly moist sound.
Still in his blood lost, Argus thrust his blade into Halfdan's eye, the crunching sound of bone and his superior oblique muscle entering the air. With some effort, he withdrew the blade, sending the squished remains of his left eye flying into the air. Pieces of his eye lay on the ground, a peculiar white liquid seeping out of them.
Argus dropped his sword to the ground, taking deep breaths.
"My boy. You're a killer. You're a cold blooded killer. Ten years old, and you have destroyed this man." Gustav said, his tone portraying respect.
There was a brief pause, as Argus tried to collect his thoughts. Only the sound of blood leaving Halfdan's ravaged corpse kept them company.
"How do you feel?" The King asked.
Argus slowly turned around, his face speckled in the blood of his unfortunate victim.
"Yeah." He growled, a cruel smile forming on his face.
"I feel great."
The King smiled back, feeling a sense of kinship with the boy that he had yet to feel in this world.
"Good. I have much to attend to. And, you do too. We've got a war to win."