Chapter 19 - The Prince (Patreon)

“Run along now. You have no part in this story.”

With a flick of his wrist, the man sent Yen flying. A distant crack echoed through the forest as she crashed through the canopy, then silence.

Kardin, Gabby, and Lars stood frozen, their breaths barely leaving their lips. They didn’t dare flinch.

“We’ve never met, but I admire you three, you know,” said the strange man. “Politics is a nasty business, and people like me are paid very well to rectify messes within the system.” He sighed. “One of the things that keep the Dark Market afloat, really. Assassinations are always high in demand, especially for someone of my caliber.”

“You’re Rook, aren’t you?” Kardin whispered.

The man blinked in surprise. “Yes, I am. How unfortunate you know my name. Your life has been a difficult one, hasn’t it?”

“Orange eyes and working as an assassin were the giveaways,” replied Kardin. “You’re a favorite amongst the nobles of Camden.”

“Indeed I am. Do what you’re good at, and you’ll never work a day in your life,” the assassin said. “Truly a disgusting line of work, but it needs to be done.”

“It needs to be done?”

“One slit throat can end a war,” replied Rook. He dragged his finger quickly across his neck. “A corrupt noble trading secrets to another country is better dead than alive, no?”

“Agreed.” Kardin smiled darkly. “But I am not a traitor. There’s no need to kill me based on your logic.”

“If a profession questions all aspects of its business, it’ll cease to exist as the standards restrict it more and more until it can no longer operate.” Rook looked at Kardin with a genuinely pained expression. “The only thing you’ve done wrong is be born to the King, Prince Christopher Zalevet.”

Silence.

Lars flinched. Gabby’s breath hitched.

Christopher’s entire body went cold.

Christopher gripped his sword tighter—not out of readiness, but to stop his hands from shaking. He wasn’t a prince. Not anymore. He was Kardin. He was nobody.

Rook saw the denial in Christopher’s eyes and grimaced. “Did you think hiding would change anything?” He leaned forward, his voice almost gentle. “You can’t change your blood. If you’re looking for someone to blame, it’s your mother for—”

Christopher Zalevet snapped. He cut forward with his sword in a blind fit of rage. His blade narrowly passed under Rook’s chin as the assassin deftly dodged the attack.

“Ah, I went too far. My apologies, Your Highness,” said Rook with an unnerving level of empathy. “I’ll refrain from that topic for the duration of our encounter.” He peered into the forest in the direction Yen went flying. “A shame you had to bring someone uninvolved into this. She didn’t need to die. Did you think she could save you? Or was she intended as fodder to save you all time?”

None of the three responded. They tensed uncomfortably.

“I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. Her time has passed, and her rest eternal.” Rook softly placed his hand on his head. “May the devil find redemption in the Pantheon’s embrace.” He cracked his neck. “Now then. I have a job to do. You all have done exceptionally well at evading and killing my employees for months. At some point, the boss must correct for failures in his organization. Such is life.” He held out his codex, reached inside, and pulled out a thin, intricate rapier. Freed of the book, he slashed it in the air, moving the steel into a delicate dance of elaborate swishes. “I’ll ensure you die with dignity as the brave people you are. It’s only just.”

Christopher tensed. Lars lifted his bow. Gabby surged mana throughout her body, causing her eyes and mark to glow brown.

The moment Rook tensed, Christopher moved. He didn’t think—his instincts did. Wind mana surged through his legs, and his body blurred forward, stepping between Gabby and the oncoming blade he knew was coming.

CLANG! 

The impact shuddered through Christopher’s arms as steel met steel, sending a sharp vibration up his wrists. His boots dug into the dirt, absorbing the force.

Rook’s rapier trembled slightly against his own sword before the assassin pulled back. “An impressive block,” Rook mused with genuine respect. “You’ve been trained well. But skill alone doesn’t keep people alive, does it?” He cleared his throat. “Next.” Rook barely whispered it.

Christopher’s blood ran cold. He didn’t even see the attack.

Just a flicker.

Just the glint of steel.

His body moved before his mind could tell it to.

Christopher darted his head sideways. A single strand of his hair floated to the ground.

“Self-preservation will always win in the end, won’t it?” Rook said sadly.

Christopher’s heart stopped. He saw it before it happened and realized his mistake, but there was nothing he could do to rectify his body with his mind.

Rook’s rapier drove into Gabby’s shoulder, its needle-like tip punching through the skin between her shoulder and neck.

Gabby screamed—a horrible, guttural sound that sent a bolt of panic straight into Christopher’s chest. Her body jerked, legs nearly buckling as the blade twisted. Blood began spilling through her robes.

Christopher clenched his fists.

BOOM!

Wind erupted outward, kicking up dust and leaves in a violent blast. He and Gabby tumbled backward, the force knocking them off balance.

Rook was already gone. No stumbling. No bracing. Just a whisper of motion, his silhouette blurring like a shadow slipping through candlelight. By the time the dust cleared, he was standing in the same place as before, untouched, adjusting his gloves.

“An excellent move,” acknowledged Rook.

An arrow cut through the air—a perfect shot.

It never landed.

Snap!

Lars’s breath hitched as Rook’s fingers easily plucked his arrow out of the air. There was no tension in Rook’s grip, no sign of exertion. He merely glanced at the thin piece of wood like a mild curiosity or child’s puzzle that was almost too easy to bother solving.

“Hmm,” Rook glanced at Lars, “good use of the situation to try and gain the advantage. If I had any feedback, you should have moved into my blind spot when Prince Christopher used his spell. Your odds of hitting me would have increased dramatically. But points for effort!”

Without taking his gaze off Rook or returning his verbal retaliation, Lars darted over to Christopher and Gabby. “Get up. You need to run. We can’t handle him.”

Christopher already knew that deep down. He’d seen Yen fight briefly the day before and heard stories of archdevils all his life. Even if she were coddled in a human village for over a decade, with her people’s power and her white eyes, she should have been enough to take on most people. But she wasn’t. Rook dispatched her in mere seconds and was toying with the three of them.

Things were hopeless.

Rook dramatically stabbed the tip of his sword into the ground, a taboo for any self-respecting swordsman. “In the next minute, one of you will die. Consider my words. Converse with each other. Say your peace. It may be your last.”

“Leave us,” hissed Gabby. Her body wobbled as if she were intoxicated. She was still gripping her shoulder wound. “Now!”

“Do you think I can?” asked Christopher. He had a dark smile on his face as he stared at Rook. “You both constantly get hurt trying to protect me even when you shouldn’t. We’re a team, and we’ve lived longer than we should have. There’s comfort in that. If we’re going to die, we’re doing that together.”

“My prince, you—” Lars was cut off.

Rook used wind to lift the head of the Velocavious and toss it at the trio like a boulder falling off a hill.

“MOVE!” screamed Christopher. He pushed Gabby and Lars left with Wind Mana as he shot right.

The head thudded where they were, rolled, slammed into the forest, and disappeared out of sight with more booms. Blood and viscera were left at the impact site.

The forest exhaled, thick with the scent of rotting leaves and wet iron.

“Once again, you leave the mage unattended,” chided Rook. “And you hurt your own people trying to get them out of the way. These were poor choices all around, my prince.”

Christopher quickly looked up. Rook walked toward Gabby with his sword as she rolled on the ground. Her body was disoriented, and she moved like she was drugged or drunk. Lars was scrambling to his feet to put up some defense.

“Always kill the mage first,” said Rook. “Then the archers. Then the swordsmen. It’ll make your job easier.” He raised his blade to plunge into Gabby. “Sorry, child. I’ll end your suffering.”

Christopher concentrated all the wind mana he could into his legs, hoping to deflect the blade.

But someone beat him there first.

Lars moved without hesitation.

One step.

His bow clattered to the ground.

Two steps.

Gabby gasped, reaching for Lars, but it was too late.

Three steps—

The rapier punched through Lars’s stomach. The sound was sickening, wet.

Christopher’s breath cut off as his lungs stopped working for a single second.

Lars staggered, his lips parting as if to say something. But no sound came. His body jerked, limbs trembling as he instinctively reached for the blade impaling him.

Christopher’s brain scrambled to comprehend what he was seeing.

“Ch-Christopher... Gabby...” Lars’s voice rasped, raw and fleeting. His breath gurgled in his throat.

Christopher surged forward, reaching—

SHWIP!

A blur of steel. A clean slice.

Lars’s head hit the ground before his body did. Gabby and Christopher stared in horror.

“Please, no speeches,” said Rook with a look of pain. “I already allowed you a heroic death. Don’t make me feel worse about this.”

Christopher’s breath came ragged, raw. Rage burned in his chest, but beneath it there was something worse. Fear. The weight of Lars’s body still lingered in the air, the space where his voice should have been.

“MAKE YOU FEEL WORSE?!” His voice cracked on the last word. His grip tightened. His feet moved before his brain could catch up, his sword raised high.

He lunged.

CLANG! 

Rook barely moved as he parried the strike, his stance effortless. “Killing children is shameful,” he mused, twirling his rapier. “But it must be done.”

“Fuck you.” Christopher’s voice shook, but the hands on his sword did not.

“It’s okay to hate me. You aren’t the first to curse me, nor will you be the last.” Rook offered Christopher an empty, pained smile. “We all walk a path.”

A sharp pain exploded in Christopher’s gut as Rook’s boot drove into him like a charging bull. His body folded around the impact, ribs bending like twigs before he was launched backward.

Dirt and leaves scraped his skin raw as he tumbled across the ground, each impact jarring his bones. His vision blurred. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

Christopher forced himself onto his elbows, gasping for air, stomach clenching as pain rippled through his core. Rook hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Sorry for the wait,” Rook murmured, his voice almost gentle as he approached Gabby unrestricted. He bent down, fingers curling around her throat like a vice.

She gasped, her fingers scrambling against his wrist.

He lifted her.

Higher.

Her feet left the ground. Kicking. Twitching.

Rook stared into her eyes, his own expression unreadable.

His rapier pressed against her ribs.

Slowly, the tip sank in, inserting itself between her bones and muscles before poking out the other side.

“Rest in peace,” Rook whispered.

He pulled the blade out in one swift motion before gently guiding a convulsing Gabby to the ground with his free hand until she was on her back in the grass.

Christopher had tears in his eyes as he reached out for Gabby. “N-No…”

“She’s not dead yet,” admitted Rook as he peered down at Gabby. “I prefer poison when dealing with innocents. It’s less painful, and I’d prefer not to decapitate a woman.” He gazed over to Christopher. “She won’t feel a thing. Right now, the poison is numbing her body of any feelings, good or bad. Soon, she will slip into a coma. Afterward, her organs will shut down, and she’ll die.” He flicked his blade to the side. “Traces of it were already in her from her shoulder wound. She didn’t even feel me stab her. Rest assured, I am not a cruel man.”

“How is this not cruel?” asked Christopher, his voice barely above a whimper. He’d been on the brink of breaking for months, and this was the final straw. “You’re a monster.”

“Sadly, yes,” said Rook.

“Cut the bullshit act,” hissed Christopher. Tears stained his face as he clawed himself up on his knees, his sword dug into the ground to support him.

“Act?” Rook pondered. “Oh, if only it were.”

Rook and Kardin froze.

The air changed. It wasn’t just heavy—it was wrong. Too thick. Too still.

Christopher’s vision wavered. He shuddered. Something primal and instinctive in his gut screamed at him to run.

But his limbs wouldn’t move.

The weight wasn’t just physical—it was suffocating, a presence so vast it felt like reality itself was being pressed down.

Rook’s skin was pale. His hands trembled. He took an unconscious step back and nearly tripped as he did. He had a smile on his face, a defensive one to hide his fear.

Christopher looked behind him into the forest. It was dark. If there was something in there, Christopher couldn’t see it. Try as he might, the—

White eyes.

Christopher shivered. He could feel what those eyes were radiating—pain, vengeance, death.

The eyes grew larger and larger until a disjointed, feral being emerged.

Yen’s body emerged from the forest with jagged, unnatural movements. She placed her hand on a tree. Her fingers dug into the bark. Her clothes were tattered, and blood streamed from her head down her face while little gashes over her skin gave it a pale red sheen. She looked sticky and dangerous, like a feral animal wounded by a hunter who’d fired their last arrow.

“Ithurtsithurtsithurts,” said Yen rapidly. “It’s healing so quickly, so painfully. Stupid. Stupidstupidstupidstupid.” She gritted her teeth and clenched her hand, holding the tree. The bark splintered. “Where are you?” Her gaze snapped to Rook.

In a blink, she was standing right in front of Rook. Their noses could have touched.

Rook recoiled back a step instinctively.

“Was it like this?” Yen flicked her wrist.

Rook was sent flying into the forest at the same speed he sent Yen.

“I guess it was.” Yen stared after him with a devilish smile, blood dripping over her lips and down her chin. “You’re not even a footnote in my story.”