Whoosh!
A rush of wind blew past Adrian as a gigantic blood-red claymore cleaved past him, nearly ripping him in half.
Adrian gasped as both he and Darrel jumped to the side, barely evading the strike.
"Hey, are you craz—" He suddenly spun, his hands already balling into a fist when he froze, his eyes locking on the man who had swung the blade.
Theon Stagheart. Often called by his nickname, the Mad Berserker.
The man that had the record for the most nobles killed.
He was a large man with a well trimmed beard and chiseled build. Although on the outside, he looked like a prim knight, his black eyes were cold and empty, without an iota of compassion.
The only thing in those eyes was madness, and an eternal love for slaughter.
His dark red armour was imposing and had a slight gleam at its edges, the dragon scale material inspiring a feeling of awe from all those who stared at it.
Theon was the man the king sent whenever there was something or someone he needed to clean up.
The Mad Berserker completed his jobs with ruthless efficiency, leaving a trail of disaster wherever he went.
The man glared at them, his eyes hard and his expression twisted. From the way he held his sword, Adrian could tell…
To him, they were not worth more than the muck below his feet. "You are in the presence of the king, bow!"
Darrel immediately bowed, pulling Adrian along with him, cold sweat forming on his head, flowing down to his nose, before dropping to the floor.
"Are you crazy? Why are you staring at him like that? Did you forget who he is?!" he whispered sharply.
Adrian sighed and muttered an apology. He was right, Theon was part of the Nine Paragons, a group made up of the most powerful knights in the entire continent.
They stood just below the king, standing above all lords and nobles.
Seconds later, a man in an ornate robe of gold and black stepped into the room, prompting all seated nobles to rise.
"Introducing, His Majesty. The Hearth Flare, King of the Nine Regions, Roswell Mateo Belford!"
All nobles bowed as the man stepped into the room, carrying with him an air of grace and royalty.
In front of him was the Mad Berserker, his sword drawn. By his sides were knights dressed in white steel armour, two on each side.
And behind him was the Beast Master, Lenora of the Sacred Hills, another member of the Nine Paragons. Her eyes were sparkling with curiosity as she lazily strolled behind them.
But then, when she noticed Adrian, her gaze lingered for a brief second, her smile widening as she walked past him.
In the center of their group was the King of Laniher, Roswell Belford.
Each step he took was taken with a certain degree of grace and poise.
He did not hurry, he took his time as he walked towards the podium, with a measured gaze and impassive eyes.
His golden hair was long and silky, adorned with more ornaments than Adrian could count, and his golden eyes were stoic and detached.
It was as though he lived in a world of his own, a world only those of equal standing could reach.
After his painfully slow procession, he finally arrived at the podium and seated himself on an elaborate throne.
The man who had introduced him then stepped forward, the gold on his black robe reflecting the light.
"The King's Assembly is now open!"
•••
Adrian frowned deeply as yet another terrible deal was called by the royal scribe.
'These are just scams!'
They were all clearly bills wrapped up as economic reforms, but in the end, they would only enrich the king and nobles.
His kingdom was already poor as it stood, but Adrian could hardly do anything about it.
The corruption was endemic, he could not even trust his own administrators to do anything right.
The royal scribe rose to his feet and walked up with yet another bill.
"The Southern Protection Act. I shall now read."
—All lords in the southwest are to send two hundred well armed troops to the capital to merge with the king's army.
This will ensure that the interests of the southwestern region are secured and foster unity among us as a people.
'Bullshit!'
The soldiers they sent never rose up in the ranks. They remained common ground troops sent to die first during wars.
Yet, Adrian could already see his fellow lords lifting their hands to support the bill. As long as the king requested it, they would oblige.
After all, they would receive enormous amounts of funding from this act alone, money that would never reach the people.
"Adrian?" came a sharp whisper from beside him.
Darrel stared at him, his eyes wide in concern. That was when Adrian realized that all eyes were on him—because he was the only one who had not voted.
For any major bill concerning the southwestern region, the vote among the lords had to be unanimous.
Adrian could already hear whispers from around him.
"Isn't that the bastard? Why is he wasting our time?"
"I told you, a half-elf has no business in our politics."
"Someone lift his fucking hand, I have to get back to my castle in time for the ball!"
Greedy, heartless scumbags, that was what they were.
Every single one of them.
Instead of raising his hand, Adrian stood up.
Darrel gasped. "Adrian, don't fucking dare! Think of the funding you would miss out—"
"I object!"
A deafening silence filled the room, and for the first time since the king arrived, a flash of emotion appeared on his face.
Slowly but with purpose, he lifted his head and gazed at him. He was a lord, and yet, this was the first time he and the king were seeing eye to eye.
A devilish smile appeared on his face as his dim eyes brightened up. "Who are you?"
•••••••••••
"I can't believe the king actually listened!" Adrian said, his voice filled with excitement.
Darrel sighed as the carriage came to a halt. "You were lucky this time. Don't do anything as stupid as that next time."
"Now get out, you almost got me killed twice today!"
"Ehehe." Adrian laughed nervously as he was booted out of the carriage and onto the pavement of his mansion.
The carriage then sped forward, blowing dust in his face.
Adrian got to his feet and stared at his house. "I'm home…"
The meeting with the lords had been suffocating. Of course, his objection had been vetoed by the king himself, but there was progress.
Not in a million years did he think the man would listen to what he had to say. But he did, an amused smile on his face as Adrian spoke.
He had even agreed with a lot of his points…
Adrian jogged to his door, unable to hide his mirth.
'One step at a time. One day, I will change the south!'
He pushed the door open and stepped into the living room and began ascending the stairs when he paused.
'Where is everyone?'
His guards, his maids, and all the other workers were nowhere in sight.
'Are they having a meeting?'
"I'll find out later…"
Right now, all he wanted to do was see Vivian and the kids and share the good news with her over a cup of coffee.
He hurried upstairs, but the higher he went, the more he felt his heart clench.
And yet he kept smiling in anticipation.
'The guards never leave their post…'
That was what his mind screamed at him, but he pushed forward, throwing those thoughts away.
'Whispers of the devil.'
There was nothing to fear. He was hated, but not to that extent…
His steps quickened.
Tap Tap.
His foot pounded against the steps.
He was running.
The air blew past his ears as he charged towards the door, grabbing the handle with both hands.
He sucked in a deep breath—
And then he pulled the door open, a forced smile on his face.
"Vee?"
Tears rushed down his eyes like a river.
A searing pain invaded his chest, as though a hot dagger had been driven into his heart and twisted.
"Daph?"
His world collapsed, his mind too lost to process what was happening. Multiple questions flooded his mind, each one more terrifying than the last.
Each one leaving him even more confused.
Everything he knew, everything he loved… everything had crumbled to pieces.
"Tiff?"
Bitter tears rolled down, and his mouth tasted like ash. He tried to move, but he was paralyzed, his eyes unblinking as he stared ahead.
Unable to look away…
From the corpses of his beloved.