Part I: The Shield of Aethelgard
Chapter 1: The Scars of Service
Sir Swaz D, known throughout the kingdom of Aethelgard simply as "The Dagger of the Crown," was more than just the King's Protector; he was the living symbol of the realm's defense. For twelve relentless years, Swaz D had fought in every major conflict.
The Wars of the Crown:
•The Siege of Blackwood: Swaz D, barely twenty, led a desperate charge that broke the siege lines, personally deflecting a siege engine's counterweight that would have crushed the King's pavilion. He saved the King's life this first time, earning his immediate elevation to Knight Commander.
•The Battle of the Whispering Peaks: The King was ambushed by mercenary bands. Swaz D and his personal guard fought for three days without sleep. Swaz D sustained seventeen minor injuries, but his shield never wavered, allowing the King to escape safely back to the capital.
•The Northern Reclamation: In the coldest campaign, Swaz D faced the fearsome Ice Clans. He strategically used the frozen landscape to his advantage, driving the enemy back and securing the mineral-rich Northlands, ensuring the kingdom's prosperity for generations.
Swaz D had saved the King's life not twice, but countless times, earning the King's complete trust and affection—an affection that was, tragically, conditional.
Chapter 2: The Forbidden Bloom
Princess Yamato, the King's only daughter, was renowned not just for her striking beauty—her midnight hair and eyes like polished jade—but for a fierce, hidden spirit. While Swaz D spent his days training soldiers and guarding the castle walls, Yamato often sought him out under the guise of discussing strategy or war history.
Their conversations, initially formal, deepened quickly. She saw past the scarred warrior to the gentle, philosophical man; he saw past the royal title to the quick-witted woman confined by expectation. Their love became a silent, dangerous pact, meeting in the castle's hidden library late at night, or sharing fleeting, charged glances across the crowded feasting hall. They knew the penalty for such a transgression—the breaking of a sacred boundary between protector and royalty—was death.
Part II: The King's Wrath
Chapter 3: Betrayal in the Shadows
The King, having grown complacent in his safety, still believed Swaz D to be his loyal, unfeeling instrument. However, the King's spymaster, a man jealous of Swaz D's favor, presented the King with irrefutable proof: a hidden letter, bound with Yamato's distinctive silk ribbon, professing her love for Swaz D.
The King's love for Swaz D curdled into a furious sense of betrayal. This was not just a breach of duty; this was a thief trying to steal his greatest treasure. The King decided that Swaz D was too powerful to be publicly executed. He chose silence and murder.
On a night shrouded in fog, the King sent three of his most skilled, loyal assassins—men Swaz D had trained himself—to dispatch him in his quarters.
Chapter 4: The Price of Survival
Swaz D was ambushed as he returned from a night patrol. Though taken by surprise, the Knight Commander's battle instinct was legendary. He fought with brutal, desperate efficiency. He killed two of the assassins, but the third, a master swordsman, managed to land a devastating blow. The assassin's blade sliced across Swaz D's face, tearing away his left eye and leaving a grotesque, burning trail of pain.
Swaz D staggered back, blinding blood obscuring his vision. Recognizing the armor and the fighting style of his attackers, the chilling truth hit him: This was the King's command. With his last remaining strength, he plunged into the surrounding Great Ashwood Forest, using the deep fog as his cover. He could hear the pursuit behind him, but the darkness was his only ally.
Chapter 5: The One-Eyed Hunter
For six torturous days, Swaz D lived in the wilderness, his wound festering and his mind haunted by the King's treachery. He cauterized the wound with fire and hunted small game with a discarded hunting knife, surviving purely on grim willpower. His strength returned slowly, fueled by the cold clarity of his singular remaining eye and the gnawing need for justice. The fear was gone, replaced by an iron resolve. He was no longer Swaz D, the loyal Knight. He was Swaz D, the betrayed man.
Chapter 6: The Unanswerable Question
With the jagged scar serving as a constant reminder, Swaz D walked back into the King's town, appearing a ghost of the man who had vanished. He found the King holding court in the central plaza, surrounded by his reinforced guard.
Swaz D pushed past the terrified onlookers, his torn, stained armor a stark contrast to the opulence of the court. He stopped ten paces from the throne, his voice ragged but clear.
"Your Majesty," he demanded, his remaining eye fixed on the King, "I stand here, maimed and outcast, having survived the knives you sent. I ask you the reason. Why? Is loving a crime?"
The King, pale but composed, leaned forward. "Loving is no crime, Swaz D," he replied, his voice chillingly calm. "But you should see who you are loving. You sought to dishonor my bloodline, to steal the royal future for yourself. That is not love; that is treason."
The King then gave the final, damning order: "Soldiers! Seize the traitor and send him to the Black Citadel prison. Let him rot in the darkness he earned."
Chapter 7: The Kiss Through the Bars
Yamato, who had been confined to her chambers under heavy guard, heard the news of Swaz D's capture. Desperate and cunning, she used a secret tunnel known only to the royal family to slip past her guards and into the city, cloaked in rough peasant clothes.
She found the Black Citadel, a place of dread, and bribed a weary, sympathetic guard to allow her a moment at the barred window of Swaz D's cell.
In the gloom, Swaz D—shackled and bleeding but unbroken—looked up and saw her beautiful face framed in the cold, iron bars. He tried to speak, but Yamato pressed her fingers to the bars to silence him.
She ran her hand gently over the harsh iron rods separating them, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Then, with a heartbreaking smile that held all the defiance and affection she possessed, she pressed her lips against the cold metal, kissing him through the bars. Swaz D reached out, his hand finding the space where her lips had been. They held the embrace for a moment—a silent vow exchanged across the chasm of their fate.
Yamato knew she had risked everything, but the kiss was the only future they had left. She pulled away, her mission complete, and turned back toward the lonely castle, leaving Swaz D with a final, precious memory to sustain him in the long darkness.
Part III: The Defiance of Loyalty
Chapter 8: The Scaffold of Betrayal
The morning of the public execution dawned cold and gray, fitting the mood of the capital. King Theron, seeking to make a spectacle of his power and reinforce the sacred boundary of royalty, had ordered the gallows raised in the main square.
In the highest tower of the castle, Princess Yamato was a prisoner in her own room. Four massive royal guards stood vigil outside her bolted door, their armor shining dully in the morning light. She pressed her face against the cold, leaded glass of the window, peering down at the spectacle below. Her beautiful face was streaked with silent tears that ran unchecked down her cheeks. She was the one who had urged him to love her, yet she was utterly powerless to save him. The sight of Swaz D, stripped of his armor and bound in roughspun chains, broke her heart.
Swaz D was led onto the scaffold, his six-day-old, ragged clothing clinging to his scarred body. The horrific line of the sword-cut ran diagonally across his face, pulling the skin tight around his single, fiercely burning eye. He stood tall, surveying the silent crowd, not with fear, but with magnificent contempt.
The King stepped forward, his voice amplified by the silence. "Sir Swaz D, traitor to the crown, defiler of the royal blood. Before your treason is excised from this realm, do you have any last wish to confess your sins?"
Swaz D looked up, past the King's opulent robes, past the flags of Aethelgard, and fixed his gaze straight at the narrow window where he knew Yamato was watching. A grim smile touched his lips—a gesture of fierce, eternal devotion.
He roared, his voice cutting through the square: "Fck your royalty and fck your rules! Love is love, even if it's between two different animals, or two other religions, or two other bloods!"
The sheer audacity of the defiance shocked the crowd into a gasp. The King's face, already pale, flushed a dangerous crimson. He slammed his hand onto the railing. "Silence this insolent dog! Advance, Executioner!"
Chapter 9: The Ghost in the Crowd
As the executioner, a hulking man in black leather, raised the heavy two-handed axe, a blur erupted from the tight-packed crowd below the scaffold.
A masked figure, moving with impossible speed and grace, shot onto the platform. The figure was clad in simple, dark traveling clothes, but the movements were anything but simple—they were the movements of a highly-trained swordsman, fluid and deadly. Before the royal guard could react, the masked man's polished blade flashed once, severing the heavy ropes that bound Swaz D's hands and legs.
Chaos erupted. The masked man, using the flat of his sword, knocked the executioner clear off the platform. He then seized Swaz D, throwing his master's arm over his own shoulder. The masked man was fast, too fast for the armored guards. He was a phantom, slicing through the air but never lingering long enough to be struck.
He used the momentum of the sudden attack to leap from the scaffold, disappearing instantly into the panicked, scattering crowd. The King shouted orders, soldiers scrambled, and the city went into lockdown, but the rescuer and the condemned knight were already gone, vanished as if they had been swallowed by the very stone of the street.
Chapter 10: Master and Disciple
Hours later, beneath the vast, silent tapestry of the night sky, two figures sat huddled near a crackling bonfire by the desolate shore of the Black Sea. The smell of salt, pine smoke, and iodine hung in the air. Swaz D, his head leaning back against a rough log, took a deep, painful breath.
"That was quite the spectacle, kid," Swaz D rasped, looking at the masked man who was carefully cleaning the crimson smears from his blade. "I owe you everything."
The masked man simply nodded, tending to the fire.
"Thank you, my kid," Swaz D repeated, the term carrying the weight of years of mentorship and affection.
With slow, deliberate movements, the man reached up and unclasped the leather strap behind his neck, pulling the simple, dark cloth mask away.
It was Zoro. The third assassin. The one who had wounded Swaz D's eye just days before(in reality it was by the knight himself to make everyone believe that they fought eachother), and the only one who had survived.
Zoro met his master's single, steady eye. "The King commands my sword," he said, his voice quiet. "But you taught me how to swing it. In our lineage, Master, a student may defy any power on earth, but to strike a sword against the man who gave you your skill—that is a crime that earns the deepest shame. I could not be disloyal to the Crown, but I could never be disloyal to you."
Swaz D understood. Zoro's wound was not physical, but spiritual: a deep, agonizing conflict between oath and honor. Zoro had been forced to inflict a wound to satisfy the King's command, but he could not allow the ultimate betrayal of execution.
They sat for the rest of the night, watching the fire eat the dry wood. As the sun finally crested the horizon, painting the sea in hues of gold and rose, Swaz D stood up, leaning heavily on his protégé.
"The King knows I am alive," Swaz D stated, his eye gleaming with purpose. "Hiding is no longer an option. Let's head back to the nearest town. I need news, allies, and a new strategy."
Zoro sheathed his sword, his loyalty now absolute. "As you command, Master." They extinguished the fire, turning their backs on the sea, and walked toward the dusty road that led back to civilization and the uncertain future.
Part IV: The Serpent in the Ashes
Chapter 11: Oakhaven and the Price of Hiding
The town they approached was Oakhaven, a bustling crossroads settlement just far enough from the capital to maintain some anonymity, yet close enough for the King's influence to linger like a bad smell. Swaz D, still wearing the tattered clothes of his captivity, leaning heavily on Zoro, presented a pitiful figure—a scarred vagrant, not a legendary knight.
Their first stop was a back-alley apothecary, run by a nervous, quiet woman named Lysandra. She recognized the severity of the scar tissue around Swaz D's eye instantly but asked no questions, treating the infected wound with stinging herbs and tight, clean bandages. Zoro paid her with a small, precious gold coin he had secreted away, buying two simple, dark traveler's cloaks and a pair of sturdy boots for his master.
"We need news, not battle, Master," Zoro murmured as they slipped into the deepest corner of a dim tavern called 'The Rusty Anchor.' "I will go. You must not speak. Your voice is as famous as your face."
Swaz D nodded, his expression grim. "Be swift, kid. And be discreet. We need to know the King's reaction, and the Princess's condition."
Chapter 12: Whispers in The Rusty Anchor
Zoro shed his cloak, blending into the crowd of travelers and local merchants. He spent two hours circulating, buying drinks, and listening intently. The news was fragmented, flavored with fear and awe.
The King, Theron, was said to be in a fury unparalleled since the Battle of the Whispering Peaks. The failure of the execution was a profound public humiliation.
The Bounty: A reward for Swaz D's capture—dead or alive—was now the size of a minor noble's estate. Anyone caught aiding him was instantly executed.
The Guard: King Theron had doubled the guard around the castle, and Princess Yamato was now under the strictest confinement. Rumors suggested she had been caught attempting to communicate with the outside world and was now under a literal lock and chain, her release contingent on Swaz D's death.
The Swordsman: The man who saved Swaz D was described as a "Demon of the Blade," a figure of such speed and mastery that the official account claimed he must have used dark magic—a clear attempt to distract from the guards' incompetence.
Zoro returned to Swaz D, his face hard. He relayed the information in short, clipped sentences. "The Princess is chained. The King is consolidating power, using your defiance to justify increased tyranny. We cannot breach the castle through force."
Chapter 13: The Chessboard of Rebellion
Swaz D listened, his single eye never leaving Zoro's face. When his apprentice finished, Swaz D took a slow, agonizing sip of the watered-down ale.
"He wants me dead, but he wants her compliance more," Swaz D finally said, his voice a low rumble beneath the tavern noise. "I saved his life many times in wars fought with swords and arrows. But this war, this one is fought with fear and loyalty. And fear is what shields him."
He paused, running a thumb over the fresh bandage on his brow.
"Zoro, you were right. We cannot hide. The King's strength lies in the absolute belief that his word is law and his power is absolute. When I spoke on that scaffold, I showed them his law can be broken and still, the sun rises. We need to turn that whisper of defiance into a rallying cry."
Swaz D leaned forward, the former knight turning into a revolutionary. "We cannot rescue Yamato by climbing the castle walls. We must dismantle the walls from the outside. We will find the nobles, the merchants, and the common folk who hate his tyranny. We will build an army of dissent. The greatest knight's duty is not just to the King, but to the people he protects. And these people need protection from their King."
He looked at Zoro, a fierce, almost predatory focus in his gaze. "From this day forward, we are not soldiers. We are the architects of a new Aethelgard."
NEXT CHAPTER IN FEW DAYS.....