Once upon a time, there was a proud kingdom of Amania whose lands stretched far from the west to the east, spanning across meadows, encased by rugged mountains. Peace pervaded the realm and the peasantry sang songs to the health of the current monarch William, his wife Queen Manaya and their daughter Elyanna.

Elyanna. A lovely soul to behold with her hair long and golden, her eyes like gems and face always smiling mesmerizingly. The princess had recently come of age and it was thus of no wonder that nobles both at home and from abroad made their way to the castle. Flamboyant balls were held and numerous princes shared courteous discussions with the girl of royal roots, but as with every fairy tale, none of them were fit to become her husband.

Some of them were too arrogant, others were too shy. Some resembled ruffians, others looked like poodles. Some were cowardly, others could think of nothing but fight, blood and battle. There was not a single man worthy of her hand.

Be it princes, highborns or knights from the Hewian Empire, Farback, Moon Kingdoms, Razewan or Nealands, not one piqued Elyanna's interest. Yet despite the shortage of virtuous lads, all was not lost.

Beyond the tallest mountains and deepest lakes, thickest forests and marches most treacherous, there was the Realm of Silver. Rumoured to be ruled by a powerful but ruthless sovereign, believed to be too dangerous to travel to. Yet in spite of the gruesome tales, there were fair and bright souls inhabiting that place. Like Prince Tadeus, son of Antiochus, the latter being the indisputable ruler of the Realm of Silver.

It was a young man with a kind, yet brave heart. He didn't hesitate to aid his kin. He didn't shun labour. He was a paragon of virtue to those around him, for he exhibited values that were treasured amongst many in the land of snow and ferocious magical blizzards.

"You will come and bring me Princess Elyanna," Antiochus commanded his son whilst sitting in contemplation on the ice throne in the gigantic hall of his Frozen Castle. It was a castle so large and spacious that it could house ten thousands of soldiers, built by the king alone long ago.

Antiochus was a wielder of great magic. None could rival his arcane knowledge. Not a single mage from all across the universe would dare to challenge him to a duel. They knew they would lose.

"Yes, my liege," Tadeus replied as he knelt before his father. Besides the lad, there was his companion Worg. A strong, straightforward fellow who executed any order to the letter. He was a hard worker, but the world was only about that to him. No piety, no love, no smile. Solely sweat and blood. He was also of robust stature, almost like a blacksmith. He served his lord Tadeus very well. He was fiercely loyal to his master and would always support him whatever the cause.

"Good," Antiochus summoned a smirk on his otherwise frowning face, his fingers drumming on the armrest of the ice throne. It was as if every moment his fingertips reached the solid and perfectly shaped frozen seat of exquisite ornaments, the whole room shook with unspoken magic. "Travel far to the south. Cross the Seven Marches and Eight Mountaintops. Traverse the Ghost Caverns. And bring me Elyanna. Now go and don't fail me. I will be watching your progress."

2: Chapter 2

Although many living in the Realm of Silver viewed Antiochus as a cold man, they also believed him to be wise. He never built houses for the poor, he never gave them food, but the peasantry thought he was so strict so as to make them strong and self-reliant.

However, the eternal winter was becoming more severe each year and the suffering was becoming too much to bear. Perhaps that was why he needed the princess. Perhaps his union with her would usher in a new age of prosperity to the land. Or at least that was what people were hoping for.

And so the prince's journey had begun. Along with Worg, they crossed the borders of the snowy terrain of their home and headed for the Seven Marches. Those were rumoured to be the lair of everglade men, cousins of water sprites.

Like the latter, they would drag their careless and unsuspecting victims under the surface, only that it would be a swamp rather than a pond. There, they would devour the spirit of their prey and gather the soul.

Tadeus and Worg weren't afraid, however. They were armed with fine swords that could pierce through flesh like a knife through butter.

They entered the Seven Marches. A damp and stinky place of dark green where trees were rotting, frogs were croaking ominously and ground was buried beneath shallow waters of seaweed. Yet worst of all, there was an impermeable haze reigning over the skies, preventing the two travellers from seeing an end to the unfriendly domain.

Suddenly, they could hear suspicious gurgling from behind. Worg swiftly turned and witnessed a green individual in tattered rags made of algae rising from the bogs. The being had a horrid look on his face.

He was an everglade man and his only desire was to pull both passersby below the swamp and consume them. His frail limbs reached out for the two, but Worg was faster. Before the monster could grasp them, Worg put him down with a single swipe of his blade. The creature fell limp into the green water.

After the brave companion collected a trophy – a scaly greenish hand of the vicious critter, the adventurers continued. It was as if brethren of that evil being had been watching and steered clear of the travellers, fearing they would meet the same fate if they tried to attack them.

3: Chapter 3

And so Tadeus and his loyal friend left the Seven Marches, entering the harsh lands of Eight Mountaintops. That domain was even colder than their homeland, but they were determined to persevere. Blizzards were a common occurrence in the inhospitable dimension, but they weren't as terrifying as the entities that inhabited the dreaded nook of the world. Snow sirens.

They were abominations of ice, resembling small dragons that were almost imperceptible until they came close. Although they had strong jaws filled with sharp teeth, their method of strike wasn't physical. They preferred to haunt their targets and scream noises at them until their victims went mad.

The adventurers didn't notice they were being followed at first. The screech was merely a tingle in the mind, but it was spreading. Drilling deeper and deeper into the soul and waking anxiety in the head.

"Do you have a headache as well?" Tadeus wondered.

"A little."

"I don't understand their origin. Why would they..."

"I try not to think about it," Worg replied truthfully, his senses keen and always scanning his surroundings in an anticipation of enemies yet failing to spot them. Snow sirens floating above them and shrieking, their scales waving in the windy snowfall.

"Something is not right," the prince noted, stopping shortly afterwards. He began glancing around and finally saw the source of the eerie feeling he had. A swarm of creatures hovering above them.

He didn't dare to point his sword at them because that was of no use. They would disperse and carry on with their scheme. He had a different weapon in mind. A pouch tied to his belt. He took it and put a hand inside, pulling it out after a second and throwing the sand he got in the air.

Suddenly, the sand was set ablaze, cracking the sirens like the strongest hammer and breaking them into shards that flew to all sides. The path was made clear and the two could continue on their daunting journey, but not before the prince collected an ice piece of one of the abominations they had just battled. Strangely, it didn't thaw in contact with his palm, hinting that magic was at work.

4: Chapter 4

They left Eight Mountaintops behind them and the boundaries of Amania were within their sight. The only obstacle was now the Forgotten Pass which housed the dreaded Ghost Caverns.

However, the sun was already retreating behind the horizon and night was a treacherous thing. They decided to sleep in a forest, believing it would give them shelter from evil beings that roamed the lowlands outside, running out of the Ghost Caverns at twilight and rushing back at dawn.

After they set up a campfire to warm their chilly bones, they finally sat down and rested. While Worg thought of the past struggles, Tadeus was wondering about the future. He knew Princess Elyanna was an enchanting lady and his father wouldn't accept failure as a result, yet the young prince couldn't help but to ask fate silently. What if it had something in store for him?

His senses were tingling almost as if somewhere out there an answer presented itself. Yes. Perhaps it was written in the stars it would all plot out differently than anticipated. Perhaps it was him and not his father who would marry the princess. Perhaps it was him who would be captivated by the lass. Perhaps he was never ordained to return home. Perhaps that was what destiny had designed for him.

Those were the ideas of adventurous Prince Tadeus. Silly, but who could tell. Maybe his dreams would prove true.

"Worg?"

"What is it, sir?"

"Do you believe in fate?"

"What do you mean?" the companion wondered. He wasn't stupid, just overly straightforward and preferred actions over words. To him, discussions were often a waste of time. Expectable from a man who had to work hard throughout his entire life if he ever wanted something.

"I mean, do you think that somewhere out there, it is written what will happen in the future? Are we walking on paths tailored for us? Weaves of fate that lead us not to our goals, but to our destiny we are unaware of? Using our goals as pretences?"

"It might be possible, sir," Worg replied. Although he wouldn't admit it, he was more than convinced the prince was correct. It had been ten years, but the memory was still strong. As if it had occurred yesterday.

Worg had been a lone man living in the remote reaches of Glathral, a severely hostile land where evil had reigned free. Ever since his parents had died, he had been left to fend for himself, not believing there had been any good in the world. Yet on a fateful day, a hideous beast had snatched his mother's locket, his only remainder of his progenitors.

He had chased after it, but it had escaped and he had never found it since. However, the creature had almost navigated him out of the dark realm, getting him to the borders of a snowy region that Tadeus had been calling home for nine years.

The two didn't speak any further that night, each choosing to delve into their own thoughts and eventually falling asleep. Although it was a rather short slumber to them, both had dreams. Worg saw his parents. They were smiling at him invitingly. They were so close. They felt so real. But he woke up and they were nothing more than a cloud floating away into the sky.

As for Tadeus, the young lad imagined how the fabled Kingdom of Amania was like. What King William and the royal family were like. What Elyanna was like. Even though he hadn't met her in person, he was already contemplating marrying her. He knew those were blasphemous ideas and his father could throw him into jail for it or worse, but he tried not to ponder about it.

5: Chapter 5

Soon they were pacing again. Reaching the dreaded Ghost Caverns presumed to be inhabited by trolls – large monsters of green fur, strong arms and a powerful chest yet small legs. Many had been slaughtered by those creatures, knights and sorcerers alike.

Yet the duo wasn't afraid and daringly entered the underground, using torches they had packed before the start of their journey to light their way.

They traversed the tunnels, ignoring the ghastly wails the denizens emitted. They comprehended that if they fell prey to them and succumb to fear, those entities would emerge out of their hideouts and tear them apart. No weapons would help the adventurers. That is why they paced forth and never looked back.

They navigated the subterranean maze bravely. Turning left and right as they observed the path in front of them, seeing stalagmites smelling of salt, seeing bones of unfortunate souls that lost their fight with the caverns, seeing bats darting past them from the ceiling to scare them.

Eventually, they reached the end and there was a reward. Fertile plains were opening in front of them, showing them lush meadows filled with blooming flowers and thick forests housing squirrels, rabbits, deer and various shy animals. The two realized they had arrived in Amania.

The adventurers rejoiced even though both were aware the journey had only begun. Nothing was sure as of that time and the welcoming sight might have been but a veil of disguise for treachery.

They marched on nevertheless. Cassire Castle was a few decades of miles away. As hours went by, they passed through many cities and settlements, but they never stopped save for one single village.

It was a little place like any other scattered around the countryside, yet it was special in one aspect. It was plagued by bandits who raided it every month. The travellers had chosen a bad day to wander through, for they hurtled straight into the ruffian clan.

The two were walking towards the square, instantly noticing upheaval happening there. Enticed by the strange event, they girded for inevitable trouble, but didn't act yet. Perhaps it was a fair, perhaps it was a ball, perhaps it was a boisterous theatre play. It could have been anything.

However, the truth became clear to them once they emerged into the outskirts of the square. Scruffy cutthroats in black chainmail and armed with knives and bows were holding the villagers at their mercy, laughing and torturing them whilst their comrades were stealing all they could find.

The prince hated injustice and whenever he saw it, he blindly rushed in to the aid of the helpless. Worg wasn't that impulsive, choosing to observe the situation and figure out the odds while Tadeus was already in the centre and thus getting everyone's attention. Every eye was laid upon him in anticipation.

"What are you doing here, hobbledehoy? Has your momma run out of drink and sent you to the market?" a thug mockingly shouted, prompting a laughter from his cohorts. Nobody took the prince seriously.

"I order you to let the villagers be," Tadeus replied in anger, his sword drawn and pointing at the leader of the gang. His eyes glanced around to witness the pain and suffering the settlers must have been experiencing.

"Oh, you order me, how threatening!" the brigand lord joked. "Or else? Wait. Don't say it. Let me guess. You'll put me down, right? You'll swing that tiny little sword at me until I drop out of extreme amusement."

"Have it your way!" the prince responded and assumed a fighting stance, ready to engage. Yet those despicable thieves were starting to encircle the noble, tipping the scales out of his favour.

At that time, Worg had dashed to his friend's aid. A strong man who resembled a devil to a degree. When the bandits spotted him, they turned to him, their blade arms unsure, their minds unsuccessfully trying to command their bodies shaking out of terror. Worg was striking both respect and fear.

"Are we going to fight or what?!" he bellowed, his mighty sword unsheathed in an instant.

Nobody wanted to struggle against him, however. They cowered in fright at first, but when he made a single step, they routed to all sides, retreating from the village and disappearing into the woods.

"Thank you!" the folk spoke in unison. They insisted that the two stayed and celebrated with them, but the travellers had to carry on as Antiochus wouldn't permit any delays Both were aware that the powerful sorcerer was observing their journey through his many magic mirrors.

"Alright then," spoke the mayor, a friendly fellow of overweight proportions but kind appearance. "Accept this gift as a token of our gratitude." As he ended the sentence, he handed the prince a small blue gem.

"Thank you," Tadeus replied as he received the item.

"It has a great value at most, but rumours say that when times are the worst, it can save your life."

"Thanks," the prince responded and they parted ways. The adventurers were on the path to their goal again.

6: Chapter 6

It didn't take them a day and they finally stood at the gates of the mighty castle scraping the sky.

"Who dares to enter?" the guards shouted from behind, prompting a response from Tadeus.

"I am Prince Tadeus of the Realm of Silver."

"And your business?"

"I have come to see Elyanna."

At first, there was silence. The prince wondered whether his boldness hadn't insulted the locals, but then the large wooden door opened, revealing a vast courtyard where numerous soldier squads dedicated their time to training. Along with the guards, they were dressed in chainmail armour covered by a uniform of blue garments, wearing the heraldic of Amania proudly on their chests – two lions holding swords.

"Come," the nearby man told them and headed towards an entrance to the gigantic building of stone. Soon, they were navigating enormous mazes, passing by various nobles in exquisite corridors decorated with extravagant tapestries, gilded chandeliers and jewel-encased furniture.

They stopped just next to an ornate door and the guard opened, unveiling the throne room. A giant place divided into two sections, one serving as a feast hall, the other housing the seats of the king and those close to him. The latter section was situated on a heightened position and reachable by a wide set of stairs stretching from one wall to another.

Both parts were flamboyantly adorned, be it the oblong table with silver cups and cutlery or the throne – a comfortable golden armchair. It was the sign of power of Amania. The kingdom was faring well.

Although there wasn't any banquet happening, the royal family was there nevertheless, each member on the proper place. William, the elderly but strong and just sovereign, was in the centre. Manaya, the aging but still charming queen, was sitting to his right. All while the princess was observing the newcomers on her position left of her father. Much to the prince's delight, she was exactly as he had been told. Young and captivating. She was truly a gem of the realm.

There were more people besides the three though. The jester was there, a cheerful fellow jumping around in the corner. Guards were there too, their arms ready to strike, their eyes watching the visitors with distrust.

There also was a strange man. A tall person wearing an armour similar to those of the soldiers but distinguished by white stripes on both his shoulders, and a decorative helmet resting on his head. He was well-built and had the look of a seasoned warrior, but something about him made both newcomers anxious. Perhaps it was his stern nature.

As etiquette dictated, Tadeus and his companion walked to the throne and knelt. Only then did he dare to speak. "My liege, I am Prince Tadeus of the Realm of Silver and I have come to ask your daughter's hand for my father, King Antiochus."

It was mighty bold of him to state so straight away, but he was honest and fair, believing that direct behaviour would lead to success. No intrigues, no plotting at feasts and balls. Just a mere request.

The kind and wise ruler of Amania stood, his face showing a mild frown. It seemed that he disapproved of the idea. However, his words didn't confirm that. "I acknowledge your call, but I have to warn you. Due to the amount of those who came and failed, I have decided to test all those who have the same plea as yours.

"As you can see, nobody has done it, but you might break the chain. However, numbers of contestants have perished. That is why I believe it necessary to warn you. You can still turn around."

"I am determined, sire. I will take whatever tests you have in store for me," Tadeus replied, his eyes unable to stray away from Elyanna's. Even though she hadn't spoken a word, she claimed his heart.

"Alright. The first task is simple. I need to be sure about your strength. Go to the Seven Marches and bring me a limb of an everglade man. That will serve as an evidence of your power."

"Sire," the prince responded as he rejoiced deep in his mind, for he knew that they had already finished that quest. "We traversed the Seven Marches on our way here and slain one of those creatures."

Worg gave his liege the severed hand to prove the deed.

"We can move on to the next. As you can guess, a man is defined not only by his arms but also his intellect. Few have managed to outsmart a snow siren."

"I hate to interrupt, sire, but we accomplished this as well. In the far reaches of Eight Mountaintops, we defeated a pack of them and have an ice shard as proof."

"In that case I have another test for you, but I sense you have done it, for we can all smell the odour of troll caves. You have succeeded in the test of courage then, not succumbing to fear and keeping a levelled head.

"However, there is a final quest that you might not handle despite your undeniable talents, I am afraid."

"What is it, sire? Throw anything at me, I will manage it for the sake of my realm," Tadeus spoke bravely, but not truthfully. His heart was of a different allegiance. His plans had changed. He simply couldn't override his desires. Thankfully, his father's magic was cold and dark, making Antiochus unable to witness what was residing in a noble spirit.

"For years, our kingdom has been plagued by a dragon. The creature swoops in from its nest in the Drawback Mountain and snatches children from as many villages as it can until it goes back due to exhaustion. Not a sword or a bow of our army can stop it."

"You want me to bring it down?"

"That would be your final task."

"Consider it done," Tadeus said and set out almost instantly, but not before noticing the princess smiling. It must have been a signal that she liked him as well. Worg observed it too, but he wasn't that moved by it because his thoughts were concentrated elsewhere. The suspicious guard. That stern look on his face. It induced shivers even in such a brave man like Worg.

7: Chapter 7

They were on their way again. Days shifted to nights and vice versa. They travelled far, but they arrived. The lair of a vicious beast was in front of them and they could hear its snores shaking the cave as it slumbered. It seemed impossible to wake, yet when the prince made a daring step forward, a roar came out of the depths.

They steeled themselves and ventured inside the crooked underground hallways, noticing tons of bones scattered around. Human bones. Many were those unfortunate heroes who had found their demise there.

The duo expected to reach the dragon deep in its den where it would lay around lazily, but they were wrong. The creature rushed to get them, its gigantic body clogging the path in front of them as its scaly and spiky jaws opened and breathed fire.

It was a message of warning, a signal to deter the invaders, but they wouldn't back down. Both charged forth, convinced they could slay the beast. Yet with a single swipe of its claws, it flung the prince to side.

Worg was luckier, managing to get as close as possible. It opened its saw-toothed mouth and was about to devour the man whole, but he stuck his claymore straight into the upper part of its jaws, piercing it all the way to the outside. It dropped dead instantly. The menace of Drawback Mountains was beaten at the hands of two adventurers and the last test was concluded.

8: Chapter 8

"Well done!" the king commented upon their arrival, beholding each of them carrying a fang of the slain dragon. "You have proven worthy of my daughter. She is yours now. You can take her and return to the Realm of Silver."

"Dad," the princess finally spoke, albeit in a whisper. Apparently, she had her own scheme. A scheme that Tadeus felt had been long since written in the stars. He believed fate was being fulfilled at the very moment.

"Oh, of course. The grand ball! When a princess leaves, it is customary that we hold a grand ball," William spoke hurriedly. It was obviously a lie. "Usually the husband-to-be dances with the princess, but since you, Prince Tadeus, are here instead of your father, then you will have to supplant him."

"I will gladly accept," he responded, his heart closer to paradise.

9: Chapter 9

It was a wonderful night. There was music and there was fun. But most of all, there was Elyanna. And Tadeus. They moved through the vast and lavishly decorated ballroom joined as one, not ever wanting the evening to end. However, it had to come to a conclusion sooner or later and that was now.

"It was a grand time, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did," the king spoke as the trumpets went deaf and everyone stopped. They observed the sovereign. Everyone besides a single couple. Elyanna and Tadeus. The two's eyes were connected, their souls not wishing to let go of each other.

"As for our guests, I believe it would be rude to bid farewells in the middle of moonshine. My guards will see to it that you are given a room."

Slowly, the parquet began emptying until merely four people remained. Elyanna, Tadeus, Worg and a guard. While the prince and the princess were still holding each other, the servant of William was waiting to escort the visitors to their chambers.

Worg patiently stood there. He had done so during the entire celebration, his mind keen on battles and struggles rather than rejoicing. It was how those harsh lands he had hailed from had brought him up.

"We should depart," the guard showed hints of impatience.

"I..." Tadeus replied as the suggestion finally woke him up from his mesmerizing dream that had become reality. The couple didn't say a word anymore, yet they both knew what their eyes were telling. They would meet the next day.

And so they were separated for the night. The guard led the Silverians to their room, navigating the vast hallways to one of the spires the castle had. He opened, revealing a modest chamber with four beds, small tables beside them and chests in front of them. Then, the guard left.

While Tadeus was distraught and his hands were shaking out of anxiety and deprivation, Worg was contemplating. They had done a great deal of work, but somehow he still felt unfulfilled.

The prince couldn't sleep, let alone lie in a bed, choosing to pace around instead. He couldn't wait until the dark was over. As for his companion, the man was already resting, but peace was not within his grasp either. His thoughts brought him to his past again. To his painful memories.

He had to flush them out of his head. He had to get up.

"I'll be just outside," he said.

He went out of the room afterwards, nervously marching back and forth. He didn't even know what he was doing, but his instincts were clear. Struggle was the only thing that kept him going. His urges had provided him with a solution even though his reason was unaware of that. He was guarding his liege.

An hour passed and Tadeus was wondering. It was the best day of his life, yet the dream was supposed to end. He realized he had been sent on a mission by his father. A man whose eyes could reach anywhere. Including the chamber the prince was in. Antiochus was probably observing his son even now.

Tadeus' heart was confused. His allegiance was to the Realm of Silver, but his desires disagreed. He feared prosecution. He feared Antiochus would exact revenge upon him regardless of being close relatives. He was frightened by the fact that if he betrayed his father, the retribution would be swift and severe.

He was troubled, but he couldn't command his mind. He had to do it. He had to break the oath he had given to his progenitor. What life would Elyanna find beside the cruel king of the Realm of Silver? No. He couldn't picture such a blasphemy. That was not what fate meant for her. And him.

He hoped for a good ending. Perhaps his silent prayers had been heard, as a hook suddenly sank into the edge of the window. His heart pounded immediately. It must have been Elyanna!

In that moment of joy, he finally realized what he had to do. He had to stay. He had to marry the princess and they would live happily ever after. But that was not how this story was destined to end. In truth, this wasn't a fairy tale.

Worg was pacing back and forth nervously when he heard a sound he knew. The sound of steel clashing. He rushed inside, but it was too late. Prince Tadeus was lying there in a pool of blood with two ruffians standing next to him. They were laughing, contented with what they had done. An unacceptable state of events to Worg.

"You filthy swine!" he yelled at them as they glared at him.

They reached out with their daggers, but his rage didn't let them scratch him. He cleaved through one man, slashing him into two. The other backed in fear, but when he saw that Worg was about to snap him in half, he tried to defend.

His tiny blade was no match for the claymore. The short steel was crushed beneath Worg's sword, allowing the enraged warrior to squash his opponent with a single powerful strike.

The battle was finished, but it didn't change anything about the fact that Tadeus was dead. These scoundrels had killed him. Although Worg had exacted his revenge, he knew it was deeper than that. Somebody must have plotted this.

He spotted the blue gem on the ground. Strange. So many people believed in magic that they attributed unimaginable capabilities to trinkets. Alas, the jewel did not stand to the tales told about it. It couldn't have saved the prince's life. Yet Worg grabbed it and put it in his pocket nevertheless.

It was logical that the entire castle would be on high alert. A hook thrown in from the courtyard wasn't going to remain unnoticed forever. Instantly, four guards rushed into the room along with their leader. A man Worg had beheld in the throne room. The man who radiated with suspicion.

"What the hell happened here?"

"They killed the prince!" Worg shouted in exasperation, but it wasn't anger directed at the guards. He credited the failure to himself. He should have stayed in and protected Tadeus from there. Instead, they had executed his liege under his nose.

"Those two thugs?"

"Yes."

"And you put them down."

"With my damned sword."

"Guards, arrest him!" the man issued an order.

"What? You can't do that! You don't have the right!"

"By the power of the Lord of Arms of Amania, I have the right to arrest whoever I damn please. Besides, this is a murder scene and until we find out what exactly occurred, you will be placed into custody."

"You bastard, you betrayed us! I will tell King William and he..."

"He what? I am his most trusted servant. My will is his will. Off with the brute!"

"You will pay for this! Tell me your name so I know who I have to smite!" Worg shouted angrily as eight strong arms wrapped around him. There was no chance he could have won against those odds.

"I am Zafario," the man responded as his subordinates towed Worg away, heading to the jail. Although the situation seemed dire, the warrior was certain this wasn't the end. He was sure he would get to the bottom of things.

10: Chapter 10

They had thrown him behind bars. A dark and damp dungeon in the depths of the castle, infested with rats and raving criminals. He didn't care, however. He was so concentrated on his goal that he didn't pay any attention to his surroundings. To his straw-filled cell that smelled like rotting bodies, to the skeletons of unfortunate inmates who had died due to the unfavourable conditions. To nothing.

He didn't know who had ordered the cowardly deed, but he would figure out and have his revenge.

No more than half an hour had passed and he was sitting in the corner when the dungeon door opened. He suspected guards who were to replace the current shift, but he was wrong. The jester had come.

He found it strange, but didn't assume it had any significance and therefore delved into thought again. Yet when he noticed the visitor was pacing straight towards him, he stood up in anticipation of what was to happen. Would the clown mock him? Or was there something more behind the move?

"Ha!" the jester laughed. "The scoundrel himself!"

That despicable tone was causing Worg's blood to boil. Not only had they imprisoned him on false accusations, they had also decided to make his stay much less pleasant by annoying him.

"Buzz off," he snapped.

"Oh look, the bully holds a grudge!"

"What grudge?!" Worg burst with anger. "Grudge because assassins murdered my liege in your territory and you jailed me?!"

"Don't play the fool," the clown grinned. The bells on his hat rang as he jumped around in his restless mood. "Everyone knew about your intention from the very beginning."

"Enlighten me. What is my intention?"

"You would come and spy on our secrets."

"What secrets?!" Worg shouted. He wasn't much of an interrogator, but he needed to catch the truth flying before his face.

"It would be stupid of me if I said that, wouldn't it? Since that would fulfil your task here."

"You filthy maggot, I didn't come to spy on your petty secrets! I am... I was just a companion of my lord!"

"A comrade in the conspiracy. But you failed!"

"So you killed him! You are to blame! This was a plot from the start? Ever since we crossed the border of Amania, you were out to kill us?"

"No, no. You don't understand. We didn't assassinate the prince. If we wanted to take care of you two, you would be dead already."

"Then who did it?"

"So if I get this right, you're that dumb type of a companion. No questions asked, just slash and smash. Am I correct? I'll tell you what your superiors didn't tell you, but I doubt you will understand. Antiochus killed Tadeus. His own son. Sacrificed Tadeus so that his power mongering would be sated. All he wished was to incite chaos and give him a reason to go to war with us."

"What?! Impossible!" Worg yelled. It simply didn't make sense. The king of the Realm of Silver was a dominant man. If he had desired to claim new lands, he would have marched in. Besides, he certainly didn't need any new lands because they were almost always more trouble than they were worth. There must have been something more behind this which would explain it.

"You're too stupid to comprehend, as I suspected," the jester laughed.

He was getting dangerously close in his crazy dance. Dance that mocked the jailed person. Dance that infuriated the imprisoned. Dance that proved almost fatal to the clown as he drew too near.

Worg grabbed him by the neck, crushing him as he pulled him to the bars. Worg's face was radiating with overwhelming rage and the jester could behold it. It awakened fright in his thoughts.

"Listen to me, worm. I will kill you with my bare hands if I have to. I will hunt you down and you won't be able to hide from me. Nowhere. Now start singing. I want to know everything!"

The captive had crossed the line. The guards had been enticed by the clown in distress and rushed to his aid.

"Get your stinky paws off!" they yelled as they pointed their halberds at Worg, ready to cast him down.

He had no other option but to back off, but his hate wasn't placated. To add insult to injury, the jester danced around, laughing and laughing so loud it incensed the captured man. However, Worg couldn't have done anything. Only wait until his time came. But would it come?

11: Chapter 11

Deep in the halls of the Frozen Castle, a frowning figure sat upon the throne. A dark vortex was spinning in front of him and although there were four soldiers standing by, none of them could glimpse inside.

That was different for Antiochus, however. He saw the truth, he saw the facts, he saw what had happened. He saw everything in there. He witnessed how his son had been mercilessly slaughtered.

At first, there was silence. Antiochus didn't raise an eyebrow. But then he rose up and screamed in a magical rage that spread over the entire Realm, causing every living being to sense and dread it.

He calmed down a little after a while, turning to his trusted guards. "Open the summoning chamber and leave me alone there. I don't want to be disturbed."

All four armed men headed out without a word. Antiochus remained still. The scowl on his face shifted to contemplation. Things certainly hadn't gone according to his carefully plotted plan. A backup one had to be employed. A rather harsh one. One he couldn't really afford to fail.

Meanwhile at the opposite end of the world, in the throne room of Cassire Castle, five men debated. William, the jester, Zafario and two other men of rank. It seemed everyone was nervous, but that was obvious since they had a crisis on their hands and they needed to resolve it.

"Gentlemen, I hope that you are aware what horrors are awaiting," the king spoke grimly, looking at people around him.

"We have an advantage. If Antiochus presses on with violence, we will be able to repel him. Our technology will crush him," Zafario elaborated.

"I'm not sure mere weapons can stand against an army of wizards and summoned beasts," the king expressed his doubt.

"We've seen our weapons in action. They are blazingly fast, much faster than bows and even more powerful than swords. No being in the domain has quick enough reflexes to defend against them. My liege, I think we can only gain. Our success is certain if we go to war. And if we indeed go, then it will serve as a message to the rest of the world and will secure us safety."

"I'm not sure I want to achieve peace through extortion and intimidation."

"The call is yours, my lord. However, bear in mind that we can't turn our backs to the threat. I am a soldier and I know the way of battle. So does Antiochus. In that, we are alike. If I was him, I would attack."

"I understand and that is why I value your input, Zafario. However, I am not a soldier. I am a king who looks out for his people. War will bring us suffering and famine. No matter whether we might or might not emerge victorious."

"But this war could avoid all the others for centuries to come."

"If we can avoid wars for centuries without actually waging a war, that would be even better."

"It was a carefully thought plot. We are the ones insulted," the jester sang, lending his message quite a surreal credibility. "We should linger not. We should rush with our arms unsheathed."

"I'm not convinced it would be a good idea to send our soldiers to a hostile and totally unknown territory," the king contemplated aloud. "If we don't take the treacherous neutral lands into account, the attrition in those harsh dominions of the Realm of Silver will finish us off long before we could lay siege to Antiochus' castle."

While William was speaking, Zafario gave the clown a frowning glare. Clearly, such a blasphemous proposal had no chance of success.

"This should be a defensive war," the Lord of Arms argued.

"If a war at all. Gentlemen, I thank you for your invaluable input. I shall discuss our next move with the diplomats and resolve the matter. Zafario, I expect that you will attend the debate as well."

"Of course, my lord."

12: Chapter 12

How many days had passed? Worg couldn't tell. His beard got twice the size of the original, but that concerned him the least. His anger was already reaching the boiling point. All the guards and even the prisoners feared his bouts of rage. He was like a caged animal wanting to get out.

Yet luck seemed to be on his side during that hour. Loud bell began echoing throughout the insides of the castle, prompting Worg to ponder. Sentries standing by looked somewhat nervous, but they didn't dare to abandon their posts in order to find out what was happening outside.

The question was troubling. What was going on? He could hear hasty footsteps, he could hear shouting. Perhaps there was even the clashing of steel. An unknown force had invaded the castle.

Then, it occurred. An explosion blasted the dungeon door and buried the guards beneath rubble of wood and stone. Worg expected that Antiochus was to blame for the upheaval and that his armies had arrived to slaughter everyone in Amania. But that assumption was plainly wrong.

He recognized the face emerging into the jail instantly as it appeared. That bandit lord the prince and him had chased out of that village. What was he doing there? And how did he manage to breach the nearly impenetrable castle walls?

They approached his cell. Worg anxiously observed them.

"Stand clear of the bars, we're going to open them!"

"What?" the prisoner wondered as he retreated to a corner of the confines he was locked in.

Before he got an answer in words, another detonation came, completely uprooting the steel grates and granting Worg freedom at last. Now he could exact his revenge. Starting with the jester.

"Where is that damned clown?!"

"Nobody besides the guards is here," the thug lord replied. "They've evacuated already. Let's get out of here."

"Hey. Who the hell are you? Why should I come with you? We chased you off and yet you made your way here? Why would you risk everything and set me free? That doesn't add up."

"You can calmly wait until order resumes the reign and then carry on with your rotting in a cell, or you can come with us and taste liberty again."

He had no other option but to follow and he was aware of it. That is why he joined the contingent of cutthroats. They paced through the dungeon with Worg nearly at the helm, just behind the leader.

They were five in total. They emerged into a vast hall, immediately encircled by the same number of enemies. Worg was unarmed, but he didn't hesitate for a second. He charged towards his foes, pummelling one with his fists. The poor guard didn't have a chance to draw the great axe resting on his back. Worg was its new owner.

However, before he could attack anyone else, the clashing of steel ceased. The royalists had been beaten and the robbers won. Without pause, they hustled to the exit and found themselves in the open, standing on the edge of the courtyard.

Worg saw the ongoing carnage. Piles of bodies scattered around. Yet the fight continued. Brigands struggled with royal soldiers. Strangely, the gates were closed. Perhaps the cutthroats had managed to get in and the entrance had been sealed afterwards, but Worg didn't believe that.

"We certainly don't want to proceed that way," the thug boss commented as he withdrew into the castle.

"Where are we going?" Worg wondered, but didn't get an answer. Instead, they delved deeper into the castle's insides much to his confusion. But he didn't fret. Somehow, he assumed that the criminal knew what he was doing.

They entered a spacious room filled with shining blue crystals. It must have been a storage room for magical objects. Maybe valuable to some, but Worg wasn't an erudite arcane scholar, so he let it be.

However, those accompanying him didn't share his attitude and helped themselves to various gems. They were typical scoundrels. Rob and steal at all costs. At least the target of their malicious deeds wasn't Worg.

Soon, they exited the room and navigated a maze of corridors, swiftly pacing through and stopping next to a wall. The chief of thieves pushed a block of stone, revealing an empty chamber with a hole on the opposite side. It was a dimly lighted tunnel. So that was how they had managed to breach the castle in the first place.

Just as they were almost at its edge, a stern voice halted them right where they were, "Where are you going?!"

The escapees turned and spotted a group of guards with a man in golden armour at their helm. They were six altogether and armed to the teeth. There was no time to answer. Only fight.

In anger, Worg clashed the axe with the tower shield of the enemy leader, but the attack was deflected and followed by a counter-strike. Worg hardly covered the blow, pressing against the blade aiming to kill him. His rival was a formidable duellist. They were locked in a tie.

As the surroundings engaged in a skirmish, the two struggled. Until the guard decided to do a treacherous move. Kick Worg in the ankle and thus throw him off balance. The Silverian did all to stand ground, but his adversary had begun using it to his advantage. The sharp tip of a sword was heading Worg's way.

At the very last second, the Silverian dodged the lunge and swung his axe mightily, spurring the guard to jump back. Knowing the royalist didn't honour the code of battle, Worg was enraged. If there was anything that he hated the most, then it was when an opponent didn't respect his foe.

He pushed onward, swishing the axe back and forth. The guard tried to spot a moment to strike, but Worg was relentless. His enemy found himself cornered. However, one of his comrades noticed and rushed to his aid.

"Look out!" somebody shouted, prompting Worg to turn around swiftly, beholding a guard leaping towards him with a sword thrusting forward. With a single swipe of the cold steel, Worg struck his adversary into the waist. The weapon cut into the flesh. It severed the spine. One down.

He quickly withdrew the axe and was about to resume his old fight, but the royalist leader had used the gained time to mount an attack of his own. In the blink of an eye, Worg's arms placed the weapon before him, pushing the sword out and throwing the antagonist out of balance.

Worg didn't hesitate for even a second. With the foe recuperating, he dealt a fatal blow, sinking the steel edge straight into the skull of his enemy. There was no chance the guard could have survived it. He fell to his knees, unable to resist any further.

The axe was buried so deep that Worg had to lay his boot on the opponent and kick, thus pulling the weapon out. The battle was over. His group had emerged victorious. Nothing stood between them and their way to freedom.

13: Chapter 13

"Good. Now that we are in the clear, you could fill me in. You owe me that much," Worg spoke whilst looking behind his back to check whether they weren't followed. They had left the tunnel an hour ago already and were pacing through a forest that shielded them from harm. The castle was nowhere within sight.

"Fine. Do you want the long version or the short?" the cutthroat boss replied.

"I'm not much of a listener. Give me the brief info."

"Alright. After the assassination of the prince, nothing besides war could be next. Obviously, of course. You must know, for you were on the enemy's side."

"Know? Enemy? Explain yourself."

"You're really the muscle but no brain, right? Antiochus is the enemy. It was his plot from the very beginning, but I suppose you realized. Get the prince in, assassinate him here and shift the blame on Amania so that he could wage war."

"I refuse to believe that," Worg responded, although his mind wasn't so sure about that. In fact, it made sense to him. If Antiochus had desired to marry Elyanna, he wouldn't have sent his son. He would have come himself.

"It is rumoured that Antiochus is the greatest of mages. He wields unimaginable powers. He sees all. If this really wasn't his design, then why would he leave you to rot while he raided and still raids the land? No. You didn't quite fit in the plan. You were an expendable asset."

Worg's blood was starting to boil, but he couldn't do anything about it just yet. He suppressed the overwhelming urge to swing his axe in rage, choosing to inquire further instead.

"So he instigated an assault?"

"Correct. Everywhere across the realm, portals open and dark creatures soar into the land, razing villages, burning forests. It is a war out there."

"What about you? How did you manage to breach the castle's defences? You aren't usual bandits, are you? And why did you rescue me? Of all the prisoners, why me?"

"You aren't as dumb as you look. Yet the answer is obvious. We are thieves. We are like fishermen. We reel our prize out of the pond, weigh it and seldom eat it. Here comes a devastating competition. One that wishes to poison our fish-pool."

"So you want to stop Antiochus? But that doesn't explain why me."

"Because you are from the Realm of Silver. The king didn't recognize the potential weapon he had in his dungeon. But we do. We're aware that you might be the only one who understand how Antiochus' magic works."

Although it was true to a degree because Worg had spent many years in the Realm, he wasn't an ultimate weapon. He was a mere man taught by life, specialized in surviving in the harsh conditions in the Realm of Silver because he had resided there for more than two decades.

"I can put down foes. That's what I do. I can't do that fancy magic stuff."

"We certainly don't need you to know that. Your expertise and experience alone are valuable assets that might prove crucial."

"Fine. You seem so organized, so you surely have a plan of war."

"A plan? It is simple. Our scouts have reported that for such portals to open, the summoner must have established a foothold. A magical source powering the gates. We need to find it and destroy it."

"And I'm supposed to know where the portal is?"

"That is not necessary, though every ounce of help you might add will be valued greatly."

"What about your breach? The castle was to be well defended..."

"We're ex-military. Rebels. But that's a long story," the leader spoke, yet was interrupted abruptly as the ground suddenly shook. In a single violent explosion, the soil tore itself and a vortex of blue emerged out of it, encased in ice.

"Brace yourselves!"

Monsters began pouring out. Creatures of frozen glass with humanoid bodies yet monstrous appearances. They were white, some had spikes on their heads, others had razors instead of hands and another group was spewing dark energies at the company.

Conflict broke out.

The ghastly eyes of the abominations instilled horror in the bandits. Yet self-preservation took priority. The brigands fought on, clashing with the entities of ice, their weapons denting the icy armour. However, the touch of those beings proved deadly. The chilling temperature sent paralyzing shocks throughout the soul, claiming two warriors already.

Yet Worg battled on bravely, cleaving through his enemies like a knife through butter. He was fuelled by rage. He wouldn't allow Antiochus to win. He knew the sorcerer was watching his steps. He viewed the attack as an attempt to get rid of him. That was infuriating him all the more.

He slashed two monsters at a time, shattering them to shards and instantly turning to others that ventured out of the vortex. He hit a whole group with his axe, knocking one down and causing the entire wave to collapse.

In the gained momentum, he rushed to the portal and bashed it hard with his weapon until it hissed and wailed as if it was alive and felt pain. Yet Worg was relentless. He battered it until it crumbled and the ground swallowed it.

Looking around whilst still breathing heavily, he recognized they were only three. He, the bandit lord and a thug. The cutthroat leader seemed injured, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he did so with ease. Perhaps the blood covering his clothes originated from flesh wounds.

"That was damn close."

"This was that gate you mentioned?"

"Yes. And this happens across Amania."

"Unbelievable," Worg commented, noticing they were standing on the edge of the forest.

"See for yourself, it's far more than real," the thief responded as they emerged out of the woods and were presented with a view on vast plains before them. Many villages that dotted the landscape were engulfed in smoke. Yet there were others that were in a much worse situation.

The skies above those were crimson red and clouds were gathering around. Their occasional patches already rained down particles of dust. An image chillingly familiar to Worg.

He knew what would follow. Severe and vicious storms paralyzing the land. Soil turning infertile. Buildings crumbling. Trees rotting. Animals dying. All of it paving way for a new breed of predatory alien monsters.

He had seen. It was how his own homeland had been devastated. He had been very young back then, not understanding the town crier news. Apocalypse. Catastrophe. War. Losing. Evacuation. No hope. That yelling had made no sense to him in the constant retreat. His parents had dragged him back and forth, always on the run. Always evading dark creatures that had hunted them. Always scrounging for supplies in razed settlements, always telling him not to look at the corpses. And on one day, they had been gone. He had never found out what had happened to them, but he had believed those evil beings had snatched them. They wouldn't have left them alone.

It was condemning evidence. Worg was burning with hate so overwhelming that he couldn't hold it at bay. He simply had to shout to let out the pain. For years, he had served in the realm of the one responsible for the demise of his homeland. It was a sarcastic twist of fate. It made him realize there was something far more powerful than a strong foe wielding a weapon or commanding arcane secrets. Something that was beyond mortal grasp. Something out there.

His resolve was strengthened. As much as he didn't trust the bandits, he had to stick with them if he wanted to increase his chances of revenge. Antiochus had to be taken down and besides, Worg wouldn't allow another country to be reduced to dust no matter how corrupted it might have been. Amania could prove a formidable ally.

14: Chapter 14

They had arrived at a robber camp four hours ago and much to Worg's astonishment, he found there was at least a hundred of these cutthroats. If they wished, they could seize a mid-sized city.

Some were training, others were playing cards and laughing. However, the leader along with Worg didn't indulge themselves in either. They had business to discuss.

"If there is a power source to those portals, somebody with magical abilities should be able to discover it from miles away," Worg contemplated aloud.

"I thought that sensing magic was possible only within short range," the ruffian lord wondered.

"I'm not a wizard, but in the Realm of Silver, you tend to learn the basics about the arcane when you have to spend lots of time around sorcerers. There is an ore in the crust of our world that amplifies magic. It serves as roads that transport waves of magical force. Amania is ripe with them."

"Another reason why your king wants to conquer this land."

"Antiochus' casting certainly tackles them. I suspect that his superior magic actually uses them. And any capable wizard will be able to track the flow. We need to find one, but I don't know these parts. That should be your task."

"Hmm. I wonder who would be willing to support us. But perhaps there is a possibility," the thug lord spoke with his gaze fixed on the sky.

"I sense there's a catch," Worg said, prompting the highwayman to look at him in curiosity. Apparently he still viewed the Silverian as a dumb barbarian and this came as a shock to him.

"There's a friendly sage in the mountain village of Shiverine. However, the village has been under siege for a week already," the man responded. "I think we should have no trouble though. Our numbers are sheer and our skills are more than a match for those creatures. We will show them."

"What are we waiting for then? Every moment we linger on is a waste."

15: Chapter 15

They were marching forward. A whole regiment of bandits. Although Worg wasn't a paragon of nobility, he would never have predicted he would become a part of an outlaw army either. Those were quite confusing circumstances, however, so there was no point in objecting. He needed all the help he could get if he was to confront Antiochus.

They were drawing nearer to the village, yet even though they knew they could expect hell, the sounds they could hear from the distance hinted there was something far beyond their anticipation.

As they were closing in, the commotion was escalating. Shouting, inhuman moaning, explosions, fire. Those people were actually fighting back! However, the surprise was yet to come.

The brigand regiment reached the borders of the settlement. Houses were razed, giant gaps were torn in the soil, collapsed portals were scattered around and corpses of both men and creatures on the ground.

They ruffians braced for a battle. They supposed an abomination would lunge at them treacherously. Yet they would never have guessed that a figure of an armoured royalist would appear in the distance, eyeing them.

"Reinforcements?" he spoke, his arms holding an odd stick. "Why do I care. There's a struggle in the centre, we're pushing them out. Wait..."

He suddenly paused. Almost as if he was taken aback. Then, he raised his weapon and a loud noise came out. In an instant, one of the thugs fell down dead, his chest pierced and the cavity burnt to crisp. The enemy soldier had recognized them.

"Charge!" the cutthroat chief ordered and they rushed forward into the village turned wasteland, knowing their only chance of dispatching the attacker was to get to him. The royalist managed to reload and shoot once again, but at that time the brigand army reached him, knocked him down and killed him.

"What the hell was that?" one of the bandits expressed his wonders. Nobody was able to answer him.

"Where do we find the wizard?" Worg asked.

"What?" the boss responded.

"Where is the wizard?"

"We're halfway there, we just have to tread around and stay away from the centre. It's probably crawling with those soldiers and monsters."

"It'll be hard to remain unnoticed, considering we're a numerous company," Worg thought, noting that the din was growing significantly stronger. They were advancing to the heart of a fight even though it wasn't their intention.

Suddenly, a portal opened behind them.

"Engage them! Jonas' faction, stay with me!" the ruffian leader issued commands and watched half of his men split up and clash their weapons with the beings spawned out of the ethereal gate.

"We aren't going to help them?" Worg wondered.

"We don't have time. Each second is precious to us."

"Okay."

The front group was marching onwards, but Worg's senses were still locked in their back. They didn't pace far and another twist occurred. From a conjoining street full of half-razed houses, a wall of royalists emerged. They were shooting fiery hell at the bandits struggling with the abominations, taking them down like flies.

Worg wanted to dart into battle, but was promptly turned down by the thug boss. "No. That would be suicide. We need to carry on and finish our goal otherwise it will be in complete vain!"

"Where is he?!" Worg shouted angrily, wishing to conclude the mission.

"There!" the highwayman said as he pointed towards a remote hut in an elevated border section that was mostly untouched by the perilous conflict. Apparently, the royal army had pushed the enemy out of it.

Worg sprinted despite holding a giant axe. The adrenaline he felt aided him. The group of cutthroats tried to catch up, but they lagged behind.

He arrived in front of the small hut built of stone. He kicked the wooden door down, unveiling a modest room with a fireplace at the distant end where a figure dressed in a brown cloak rested.

He wanted to dash in at first, but then he noticed a soldier standing just by the entrance, hastily loading his weapon resembling a long stick. Worg knocked him to the ground and wringed the device out of his grasp, throwing it away.

Although there was no immediate threat after that, he knew there was no time to waste. He approached the individual he assumed to be the magician.

"Are you a sorcerer?" he asked, prompting the man to turn and face him, revealing it was a frail elderly person.

There was no response. Perhaps the sage was deaf, but Worg lacked even a second to spend on finding out. He grabbed the wizard with his free hand and placed him over his shoulder. After that, he rushed out.

Much to his dismay, the royalists had already reached the border street and were shooting at the retreating thugs, yet the madness was only escalating. A portal emerged out of the ground right in the middle of the soldiers.

They were quick to act, but casualties were inevitable. Forming a circle around the gate, the inner part engaged the spawning monsters while the outer was dealing with the now disorganized bandits.

The events allowed the cutthroat contingent to recuperate and solidify their rout. Worg ran, ignoring the struggle. He had to protect the sorcerer at all cost. Thankfully, he was drawing closer to the edge of the settlement and the furrowed terrain surrounding it would shield him.

However, the royalists had managed to shut down the portal. Their attention thus shifted to the highwaymen, less than twenty men. In a volley of fiery gunshot, they royalists hounded the company with Worg at the helm.

Shot after shot, they fell down like flies, bodies tumbling and eventually exposing the man escaping with the sage. Loud noise after another, they barked like angry dogs determined to put them down.

One of them almost grazed Worg. But he didn't fret. He was aware he needed to persevere. It was his duty. It was the sole possibility he had. It was imperative that he avoided death and carried the wizard out of there.

The Amanian military marched forward. But Worg was nearly there. A tall chunk of rock was merely ten yards away. Five robbers were remaining. Yet Worg reached safety. The sound of gunshot suddenly seemed harmless.

They were followed, but the pursuers' primary goal wasn't chasing after thugs. Thus, they ultimately broke off. However, Worg was sure they would send a scout to the royal court and would try to track them down.

"We should use a different path," he suggested.

"I was thinking the same," the bandit lord concurred and so their journey back began. They traversed many parts of Amania, but steered clear of the invaded sections. It was indeed a full-blown war.

Along their way, they beheld many razed settlements, burning villages or even cities standing indomitably and resisting the invasion, but nothing piqued Worg's interest as much as a gigantic town stretching in the distance. Its pearl white slender towers almost touched the sky.

"The jewel of Amania. It is named Brunia."

"I wonder what those contraptions around it are," Worg contemplated aloud, his axe pointing towards a spot just outside the city walls. There were giant drill machines boring into the ground with a din so overwhelming it reached as far as the brigand company.

"They call it the workhorse of industry. Industry... a strange word. They say we are on the brink of a new age."

"But what does it do?"

"I don't know. They say it is used to extract ore from underground. Iron, metal, that sort of thing."

"Okay," Worg responded, his eyes still gazing at the gargantuan mechanism digging into rocks. It must have been some powerful magic. However, he was oblivious of the fact that magic wasn't involved in this case.

Nevertheless, they had to march on and leave the marvel behind, for they had a lot of work to do.

 

16: Chapter 16

Zafario stood proudly on a hill next to his tent in a camp. He let everyone behold his uniform shine and smiled at the idea brewing in his head. With each passing second, he was a step closer to fulfilling it.

While soldiers were scattered around like ants on the plains below, he watched them as they trained with their new firearms. Weapons that spewed rounds of metal. Weapons that were called muskets.

The din of shooting was almost deafening, but who cared about it when the guns greatly overpowered swords and bows. With those at Zafario's disposal, nothing obstructed the path between him and his conquest of the entire world. Well, save for the current crisis and the unwillingness of King William. However, he had his plans.

As he was observing the exercises, a comrade of his approached him. It was the jester, but he wasn't dancing around in funny clothes. Sporting a formal military tunic and trousers, he had a sinister look on his crooked face.

"What news do you bring?" Zafario asked without turning to the man.

"The king has met the colonel of the seventh regiment and his two advisors from the city of Kernt."

"And?"

"They seemed very friendly. Laughs were shared and such. Fools. Stupid fools. They don't know what will hit them," the jester strayed from the report, choosing to indulge in his own glee. He was a little bit too mean, but also plain in thought, if not even dumb. Plotting like a child preying for a friend's toy. He was gullible, but nobody would ever question his position. His maliciousness added to his usefulness that Zafario exploited. Always pushing and influencing the clown to do his errands and spy on the court.

"Cut to the chase," the Lord of Arms reprimanded his subordinate. As much as the jester was a valuable tool, he was also an annoyance. "How did the meeting end?"

"Oh yes. Alright. How did it end. Of course. They agreed to negotiate with Antiochus."

"Negotiate?!" Zafario shouted, but quickly calmed down. "The king is an idiot. He will wait until our enemy brings us to our knees, but it will be too late at that moment. I believe time has run out."

"Of course, my master!" the jester spoke as he imagined the scheme they had arranged.

"If the king can't see reason that we can't negotiate with our enemy or can't realize the limitless potential of the arsenal we have, then he is unfit to lead. You have been a faithful friend and ally. The journey we took proved to be tiring and perilous, but we are almost at its conclusion. It is time to reap the benefits of our hard work."

"Is it truly the day, my master?!" the jester asked even though he already knew the answer. That is why he was chafing his hands.

"It is, my comrade. We should prepare, for our hour has come."

17: Chapter 17

Cassire Castle was safe now. No raid, nothing. It was actually a wonder the bandit attack had occurred when the royal family had been on the road to a distant city along with the majority of the barracks.

At that moment, however, things were different. Although the breach was undiscovered along with Worg's escape, the structure was so well fortified and defended that a contingent of brigands had little chance. However, a squad of elite soldiers loyal to an traitor plus the rest of the garrison unwilling to take arms against them was another story.

"I'm afraid," Elyanna whispered to her father, yet the wise man didn't dare to speak a word. A broad range of emotions stormed in his mind, but he was too frightened to voice them. As for the queen, she remained silent so far.

They were sitting alongside the feast table eating dinner along with four other nobles. The entrance was guarded by two halberd-wielding men inside and two more outside, not to mention the extensive array of infantry pacing back and forth on the floor where the throne room was.

However, none were going to prevent the coup from happening. They even eagerly promoted it in fact. Greeted Zafario and his men wielding muskets marching forward in the hallway. Opened the door to the spacious chamber much to the confusion of the nobility.

"What is this regarding?" a lord uttered in exasperation as everyone within noticed the weapons.

Zafario didn't care about the remark though, heading straight to the dining table.

"What is this? Zafario?" William demanded an explanation, rising up from his seat to exert his authority.

Yet the conspirator was grinning wide, spotting the jester observing the situation from behind the draperies in the corner of the hall, behind the thrones.

"King William of Amania, I come to speak on behalf of all righteous people in the kingdom. By actively giving the enemy free rein with their hostile operations across the land, you have committed treason against your own kin, against the status of the crown and against the realm itself."

"What?!" the sovereign burst in disbelief while the guests stared in wonder.

No more words were said. Gunshot was the answer and in a few seconds, the feasting people either stretched dead over the table or lay on the ground.

Zafario smiled, knowing he would assume the leadership, but then he noticed the king was still breathing. He actually tried to crawl away. The Lord of Arms acted swiftly. He unsheathed his dagger and plunged it into the heart of the monarch.

The deed was done. The only thing standing between him and the throne was grabbing the crown. And that was exactly what followed. He placed the jewel-encased headwear on his head and positioned himself cosily on the seat of kings. Meanwhile, the jester emerged from his hiding location, watching his master at the height of his coup.

"Sir?" one of his soldiers suddenly asked.

"What is it?"

"The princess is alive," was the reply, prompting the new sovereign to glance her way and see her on the floor and wheezing. Her dress was rather soaked with blood, but the wound wasn't fatal. "You could proclaim her your queen. It would undoubtedly bolster your legitimacy claim."

For a while, Zafario immersed into ponder. His eyes shifted from the injured woman to his soldier and back. Only the devil himself could have known what he was thinking at that moment.

Then, the contemplating grimace changed into a frown of decision. An ominous sign. "Execute her. We have no need for her creed. The Amanian bloodline ends right here on this day."

"Understood," the soldier responded and a shot echoed.

18: Chapter 18

It took them more than two days to get to the bandit camp. They were battered like dogs, but at least they had managed to live. All the way to their goal, they hadn't dared to stop and question the old sage, fearing the enemy would catch up. Now, however, was a different time. They were safe.

"Where's the rest?" one of the few ruffians who had stayed at the encampment wondered upon seeing the arrivals.

"Dead," the thug lord answered bitterly.

Nobody asked further, but it didn't matter anyway. Worg had already dropped the wizard and initiated a conversation with him on his own. "Are you okay?"

"I'm unscathed," the man broke his silence after the entire journey of not speaking a single word.

"Great to hear," the brigand leader joined the discussion.

"Who are you?" the old person inquired.

"Don't you recognize me? I'm Noran."

"Noran? You look very young. Is that some sort of magic?"

"I'm not the older Noran. I'm his son."

"His son? Oh, of course. How's your father?"

"He's dead. It's been ten years," the bandit replied without showing any hint of sorrow or regret. Was there a bit of humanity in that man? Or was this salvation mission commenced because he really was that greedy?

"I'm sorry."

"No problem. Hey, there's something that needs to be done."

"What would that be?"

"As you have surely noticed, Amania has been invaded. Magician portals. My scouts have reached arcane libraries and found out that only a very powerful wizard can do this. It's actually a very delicate spell and its use has been recorded once in known history. This is apparently the second time it has happened."

"Planar storm," the old sage interposed.

"What?" the ruffian asked in confusion.

"Planar storm. That's how the spell is called. I didn't know somebody was as capable in our realm."

"You mean you don't know what's going on? Who is behind the invasion?" Worg wondered.

"I chose a life in the highlands because of its seclusion. I desired peace. And I got it. People there tended to look after their business and I did so as well."

"Okay," the brigand resumed. "The recent history in a nutshell then. We have been invaded by the Realm of Silver. Its leader, King Antiochus, is a powerful spellcaster. He uses planar storm against us."

"And you want me to stop him? An old frail man? I don't wield the power to halt such a nemesis."

"All we need is that you locate the source that feeds those spawning crystals."

"Do you realize I haven't done any casting for more than five years? My skills are a bit rusty, I will have to prepare myself."

"How much time do you need?" Noran asked in annoyance.

"I don't know. The art of magic is delicate and you can't predict the outcome in the majority of cases."

"Does that mean we have a problem?" the bandit responded in a threatening tone. Although Worg was aware that they couldn't tarry, he didn't understand Noran's insisting.

"There's no point in pushing him. He is willing to help us." The Silverian hoped that the ruffian would come to his senses, but he was wrong.

"We could find another wizard if you won't comply."

"I hope that you realize I'm the only one who will comply," the old man defended himself. "It just takes time. You can't hasten it."

"He speaks the truth, Noran. We must wait until the sage does his procedure."

The thug raised his hand in objection and his mouth opened, but Worg was already fed up with it. He couldn't grasp why the cutthroat pressed on the sorcerer. Couldn't he see reason? There was nothing that could speed the process.

The Silverian grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground. "Listen to me, worm. I'm working with you not due to gratitude that you saved me, but the fact that I need to avenge my deceased lord and myself. If you don't let the man do his job, then I will have to do away with you."

"He isn't even your friend," Noran gasped between words, holding the arm that choked him but unable to free himself. "He is my acquaintance. What..."

At first, it seemed that the robber wished to continue the argument, but the raging hatred in Worg's eyes was something he didn't want to materialize into combat. The rudeness slowly left him and he gave up.

Meanwhile, all the remaining brigands had gathered round and encircled the Silverian in order to defend their master. With their swords at the ready, they were awaiting what would happen.

Worg noticed it, looking around himself and gazing each rascal in the eye, waking fear in their feeble minds. However, he wasn't suicidal. He knew he had no chance against twenty men even though he was aware that he was scaring them. That is why he let go of Noran's neck.

"I hope you've learned a lesson," the Silverian added before heading to the edge of the encampment.

19: Chapter 19

The casting was underway. Worg was sure it was only a matter of no more than a day until the old sage figured out where the treacherous Antiochus had his source of magical energy. He was certain revenge would be his. He would never forgive the evil king for what he had done to Tadeus. And him.

It was strangely quiet in the hillside camp where they were, covered by woods behind their back, overlooking ravines and cliffs in the front. Although there was a war raging in the country, it seemed so silent that it was surreal.

It was so serene it caused him to wonder whether there was a conflict at all, but when he stared into the distance and saw rising smoke, he reassured himself something was indeed happening.

Something the vile Antiochus was responsible for. It was ironic Worg had been serving the man who had destroyed his homeland. It felt like he had betrayed thousands of dead people of his land.

He despised the bandits for their vicious and crooked methods, but the knowledge of having been the tool in the evil king's hands was dragging him to the deepest pits of shamefulness, placing him way below those brigands.

Only now did he have enough time to ponder it and realize the bitter truth. He was a traitor to his homeland. He had serviced the one who had razed the cities of his nation and killed its people. Knowing this, how could he look into the face of his father? Or his mother? How could he look at their tombstones that he had built so long ago and avoid guilt and shame?

He was a disgrace and he was fully aware of it. There was no redeeming. Nothing could erase the highest crime. Not even if he avenged the dead. It didn't mean he would stop. His tarnished honour wouldn't allow it.

Even though he was sure his name would be carried forever in the halls of spirits as Worg the servant of the kingdom-shatterer, he had to see this through. He had to murder Antiochus for what he had done.

It felt like he was reliving it. Like he was a young whelp again. Helpless, oblivious and hopeless. He was playing outside the town in the field with many friends when the bell began ringing. They thought it was the call to a town gathering. Nothing of interest.

Yet he was terribly wrong. First, he could hear shouting. Then the clash of steel. Then screaming. His heart suddenly shrank, his mind oppressed in terror. Vicious clouds of black appeared in a growing vortex that spawned in the sky. It was shooting bolts of lightning into every corner and soon the horizon was transformed into crimson red. His peers had been gone. He was alone.

A figure emerged from the city gates. A dark, slender being shrouded by the sinister weather. Worg could tell that it was no man or woman. Its many limbs slithering on the ground towards him were hard to miss. Its robust torso filled with burning holes was the second thing the boy noticed. And that face. That dark, gruesome face on a stump protruding from the body was grinning wide and reaching out with its thousand teeth.

He wanted to run, but where? He wanted to get to his parents, but how? He was so afraid. He was so scared. Yet the monster was still moving, its many gaps spewing out lava in various directions every now and then. It was heading to Worg. He recognized it, but the horror had paralyzed him.

His parents had appeared. His mother, a nurturing woman with a calm countenance, had grabbed him in the arms while his father, a strong bearded man holding a sword, stood in front of them in order to shield them from the creature.

The being bellowed in an inhuman voice, but Worg's father wasn't fearful. It was already too close. It hurled out a ball of lava, but the man dodged it and struck the entity with force. The abomination tried to counter-attack, but Worg's father was faster, slashing it again and again until it crashed down.

Worg thought they would go home and everything would be fine. He hoped the skies would return to normal. He was wrong, however, and he realized it as soon as he looked at the bags his mother and father were carrying on their backs.

Suddenly, there were more people like them. They were evacuating. He still believed that the nightmare would end soon. It was naivety, but who could blame a child? A child who was unprepared to cope with such a terror?

During the first few days, they were travelling from place to place. Refugees seeking shelter. Yet the monsters always caught up. Razing village after village, city after city. It was a perilous journey seemingly without cease.

Within a year, the army of the realm was disbanded and able fighters scattered. There was no force to oppose the offensive of unimaginable creatures ravaging the domain. Towering hulks thrice the size of man shaped like sticks with multiple saw-like extremities. Small, but feral canine entities with spider-like legs that could shoot venom over long distances like arrows. Critters disguised as tree trunks yet lunging at an unsuspecting victim with powerful stretched tripod limbs and smashing the unfortunate soul with its many protractible fangs resting in pockets of its body.

Worg felt overwhelming fear whenever he heard screams, shouting and struggling, which was most of the time, but then came an era when silence pervaded. Man was almost extinct in those lands. The quietness scared the boy, however. He would never have thought there was something more frightening than that. The absence of sound.

The skies were bloodier than ever, the air poisoned with death, the soil twisted with whispering lamentations of the fallen.

They still stood. They still remained in the onslaught. The boy was older by three years, but the nightmare was far from conclusion. They had found their home in a tiny part of a meadow encircled by trees.

Worg's father hunted for food regularly, he even grew crops and they managed to get by, but nobody wanted to live a life like that. However, there was nothing else to do. They had to survive.

Months passed and the monsters roamed the domain. In fact, their numbers were much greater than ever. One day when Worg sat on his bed, noises were heard. Vicious and horrendous noises.

"Donya, something's wrong. I'm going outside. Come with me, just in case," his father said from downstairs, prompting the boy to get to the window and observe.

He beheld his parents in front of their house. Although they were brave, he could notice fear in their eyes.

"Stay home, don't go out," the father shouted at him as he spotted him and Worg nodded. Then, he watched as his parents strode towards the forest. As if possessed, they disappeared within shortly afterwards.

He awaited them patiently, but they didn't come back. He believed they would return but as day shifted into night and vice versa, he slowly began to realize the bitter truth. He was alone in the world.

Fast-forward in time, he was not a child, but a man. He had long since left the cottage, unsure about everything. What his life was about, what he was doing, why he was trying to stay alive. He couldn't find answers to any of those questions, but he kept drifting through the hostile lands.

Forced to chase after a monster which stole a locket of value to him, he stumbled upon a strange portal radiating with bluish light. It stood atop rubble and ruins of a forgotten city. He approached it with curiosity, catching glimpse of a person peeking out of nearby woods.

A human. A living soul. Not a monster. Worg felt enticed by the idea there was another survivor. Somebody to talk to. Carefully so as to avoid scaring the individual, he walked to the trees, realizing it was a frightened boy observing him with teary eyes. Just like Worg years ago.

"Don't fret, I can help you."

The boy lost his fear. He emerged out of his hideout and headed towards Worg. It was an uncertain pace though.

"Don't be afraid. There are no monsters here."

Suddenly, a strange water-like surface appeared on the ground. The man advanced to it with interest, wondering what it was, when a voice spoke from within.

"Tadeus. Come home." It was a stern tone.

It was apparent that the speaker addressed the youngster. However, the boy had no intentions of returning.

"Who is that?" Worg asked.

"My father," the kid responded, stopping just behind Worg. Although it was a gesture of fright, neither of the two knew of the bond that was forming.

"Tadeus!" the voice insisted.

"What is on the other side?"

"My father's castle."

"Come, we'll go together, okay?"

The boy didn't reply, but followed the man into the bizarre vortex. As soon as they went in, they reappeared within the chilling confines of Frozen Castle. There was a frowning man sitting on a spiky ice throne. Antiochus.

"Who are you?" he inquired threateningly yet curiously.

"I found your child," Worg answered truthfully.

"Hmm," the king pondered aloud, piercing the newcomer with a questioning gaze. It was as if he saw into the mind of the outlander, scanning it and evaluating it. And then, he came to a conclusion. Words needed to be spoken. "Fine. Tadeus, do not worry. There will be no beating today. You have found yourself a tutor."

"A tutor?" the boy wondered.

"Yes, a tutor. That is, if our visitor agrees."

"I gladly agree," Worg responded, looking the youngster in the eye and realizing something very important. The child was the closest thing he had to a son.

"Hey," somebody interrupted Worg's train of thought, waking him up from dreaming. "Hey!"

It was the bandit lord.

"What is it?" the Silverian asked.

"We've got it. The wizard has pinpointed the location of the source of the invasion!" Noran sounded cheerful.

"Grab everyone you can. This will be a long and bloody struggle."

The sun had already set, hinting that he must have been in a state of trance for at least half a day.

Although Worg was aware Antiochus wasn't a fool and would protect the heart of his force, it had to be concluded once and for all. Perhaps there even was a portal leading back to the Realm of Silver, which would be ideal for Worg, but he doubted it. Either way, he had to destroy it. He simply had to.

If Amanians went on a counter-attack, it would greatly aid him even though they didn't like him. But if not, then Worg would have to settle for knowing that he seriously foiled the evil mastermind's plans.

It didn't matter it was night. He was eager to fight regardless and the sooner the menace ended the better.

"Everyone, we're gathering for battle! Leave the wounded here, we have bones to break! And if we win, we will be hailed as kings!" Noran shouted, his voice reaching far over the encampment. They went to war.

20: Chapter 20

In the depths of a dark cavern, there was an artery of the devil. The centre of hell. And a company of warriors was heading that way. There weren't more than twenty of them, but they were determined. Or at least Worg was.

It wasn't meant to be a walk in the park. However, everyone was aware of what they should expect. They were standing in front of the entrance to the source of Antiochus' invasion.

Everything seemed perfectly normal, but Worg knew better. The true power was running deep underground. Besides, the sovereign of the Realm of Silver would have been stupid if he had bothered with creating authentic villain scenery, for it would have drawn attention to this place and all of the Amanian military would have been already besieging it. No, it needed to be as inconspicuous as possible.

They delved inside, pondering whether they were actually right. It was so silent. It prompted them to wonder whether the old sage hadn't made a mistake somewhere. Yet as soon as they sighted bluish light in the crooked caverns, they realized it was the spot they sought.

Then it happened. Portals spawned on the walls and creatures poured in. The battle had begun. Worg was swinging his axe like mad to shatter the beings that tried to attack them. Slashing off limbs of bark-covered thin animals, striking steaming piles of gurgling moulds, dismembering spider-like entities with four strong legs.

The struggle continued and the bandits fought on, but the supply of foes was endless. However, stamina of the men was not. They recognized that they had to push forward if they were to succeed.

"Hold the line!" Noran shouted at five of his soldiers and they engaged the backside while the rest advanced. Yet the front wasn't rosy red either. The monsters were everywhere, lunging out of their devil dimensions and never tiring. With every step the company took, another batch of foul beasts emerged. New portals were appearing and there was little chance to close them since they were etched in the rock.

The light was becoming stronger. They must have been drawing near. However, the outcome seemed grim as they were succumbing to the overwhelming number of creatures one by one.

Worg carried on with the struggle, enraged like a ferocious bear, imagining that with every evil being he cast down, a soul of his kinsmen was freed from torment of his destroyed homeland.

But even his strength wasn't going to last and he wouldn't win against the onslaught. Along with seven survivors, they were still marching on, yet it was only a matter of time until they were beaten. Unless help showed up.

"Die!" thundered a powerful voice, causing the entire cavern system to quake as a shockwave proceeded through, knocking down every critter and shutting down numerous portals.

An ominous shadow was on the edge of the tunnel they were in, but everyone knew who it was. The sage. He had been left in the encampment, but now he was here, having followed them apparently. The fight continued although it was hastened. The wizard aided the warriors, casting down many evil entities and banishing them from the realm.

They progressed fast, eventually arriving at a spacious chamber encased in mesmerizing blue ice. In the centre of the room, there was a monolith radiating with energy manifesting itself as a steam of white colour and a low hum.

The last of the creatures fell down dead and after a single utterance of the word sanctuary by the sage the entrance to the hall sealed itself with a gigantic boulder. They were safe. No monster dared to oppose them since the sorcerer was in control.

The magical stone was the root of evilness. All they needed to do was to demolish it. But how?

"Are we protected from the onslaught? Have we beaten them?" Noran wondered, his eyes feasting on the monolith.

"If the wizard wasn't guiding such a powerful army from afar, we would be doomed. His powers are limited and even a relatively weak spellcaster could disrupt Antiochus' grasp by being present here. So yes, we are protected. The only way Antiochus could beat us would be by spawning here, but my sanctuary spell will ward his efforts for long enough."

"Good. So how do we destroy this thing?" Worg asked.

"I can undo it. I just require time."

"Won't Antiochus create another monolith somewhere else?"

"Maybe, but that would take days. Enough to bring the battle to the enemy. Antiochus is surely aware of that. Merely a fool would concentrate on creating another, considering his strength has been drained severely already. This struggle must have taken a heavy toll on him, since he had to open so many portals at once. Besides, the magical flow below the surface must have been heavily exhausted. He is on the losing edge."

"Great. You've got all the time you need to undo this evil perversion," Worg said with satisfaction, imagining the exasperated grimace of Antiochus and realizing it was the first step on his path to revenge.

"Wait a moment," Noran spoke suddenly, turning to the wizard. "Who told you to listen to the barbarian? You are my friend. My sage. You will do as I command. And I command that you transfer the abilities of the monolith to me."

"What?!" Worg shouted in anger and even the old man wasn't quite content, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"This is mad, Noran," he responded.

"I don't care if it is mad or not. My men and I are in charge!" the thug screamed as he drew his sword. His cohorts followed his example.

"You scum! You planned this from the very beginning, haven't you?!" Worg replied hatefully, his axe at the ready.

"What else?! Did you really believe me to be such an idiot? A guy who would want to save his realm and be crowned a hero? Then forgotten? No! I'm not such a fool. What did you expect?"

"You're a traitor to your people!" Worg yelled in rage.

"I'm a bandit. I've always been. Who cares about people who lick the king's boots? Who cares about honour when nobody knows the word? Tell me about a single man from this realm who wouldn't do the same!"

"You're mad, Noran!" the sage interposed. "You aren't even certain what to use the magic for!"

"Of course I do! I will take over the kingdom! Old fool, commence the shift! We don't have all day!"

"I won't do that," the wizard objected.

"So we will have to do it the hard way," Noran said, immediately dashing to get the sorcerer.

Worg would have none of it, however. The two clashed their weapons. The Silverian was at a disadvantage as those six remaining bandits rushed to their boss' aid. The wizard let out a spell that made them fly away to sides, but didn't harm any of them. Apparently, he was exhausted by his previous casting.

Yet those rascals recovered quickly, darting to the spellslinger and pinning him to the ground, holding him so that he couldn't do any more damage. They needed him to transfer the monolith's power to their master.

Worg deflected an attack after another, swinging his axe towards the despicable thug at every available moment. Yet Noran dodged each of his thrusts. And then one of the brigands reached the Silverian but was promptly halved.

The cutthroat lord used it to his advantage and was about to plunge the blade into Worg's stomach. The Silverian averted doom at the very last second, pushing the steel aside and kicking Noran in the belly.

He would have finished off the traitor, weren't it for a backstabbing manoeuvre hurtling in his direction. Worg turned and swiftly diverted the blade, noticing two robbers engaging him at once.

One of them tried to deflect Worg's brisk slash, but the Silverian cleaved through and hit the enemy in the shoulder, cutting deep into the chest. He hastily pulled the axe out as the other was about to pierce him, blocking the lunge and spotting Noran prepared to strike as well.

In anger, Worg grabbed the bandit by the neck and threw him their chief's way. It wasn't perfectly timed so Noran had no problem evading it. Yet things didn't go rosy red for the other rascal. He crashed against the sharp rocky wall. It was obvious he wouldn't be able to fight any more.

In a quick glance, the Silverian noticed that three cohorts of the thief lord were focusing on keeping the rebellious sorcerer pinned to the ground. It gave him more space to breathe, but he was aware he could still expect an attack from behind. That is why he needed to be on guard.

Noran battled toughly. He wouldn't accept defeat, swinging the weapon like mad. He was trying to hack his opponent. Worg was forced to defend as he deflected each swipe, slowly retreating towards the wall.

Just to find the right moment, he thought. Jus to wait. He was almost cornered. Yet Noran's rage seemed endless. It was hard to block with such an axe, but the Silverian managed. It was there. Worg hit the rock with his back. At least he now had the remaining three brigands in view.

"Not so favourable, huh?!" Noran shouted like an animal. He believed that he would finish the Silverian in the next move.

Worg was persistent. He grabbed his weapon by both his arms, absorbing the crash of steel and pushing forward. However, his adversary also pressed on. The two engaged in a deadly tug-of-war.

Having more breathing space and being on the winning edge initially, Noran kicked his rival. And again. Worg ignored it at first, but then answered back. Suddenly, the bandit's grip fell limp. Perhaps his berserk attitude was wearing off.

The Silverian mobilized his strength. He broke free and jumped aside, but the cutthroat wouldn't give up that easily. Just as the two blades disconnected, the thug lunged at his opponent. Worg barely dodged the attack. And another.

The following strike cost the Silverian his balance. He almost tumbled down. Things looked grim, yet Noran pressed on with a grin on his face. Worg had to act. Noran was relentless.

Springing back, the Silverian knew it would worsen if he didn't do something. He didn't want to get cornered again. But his enemy was brimming with vigour. The tip of the sword arrived at Worg's chest. He struck it away at the very last second, but Noran kicked him swiftly afterwards. The Silverian was already struggling not to plummet. This toppled him, and he lost the grip on his weapon.

The bandit didn't utter a word, but his grimace said it all. Simply to plunge the blade into the torso of his adversary. Worg was aware of the dire situation. He had to roll aside, avoiding death.

He gained some time, but Noran was closing in mercilessly. There was no moment to rest, not even to get up. The Silverian had to react. From the floor, he mustered all his strength and kicked the thief poising to strike in the leg, bringing him down.

That was Worg's while. He rose up while his rival was still recovering. He punched him down to the ground, grabbing the sword from his right hand and doing the same thing his adversary wished to do to him. He buried the steel straight into Noran's chest. The fight was over.

The battle, however, was not. His attention shifted towards the remaining three brigands, who noticed him. Two of them engaged him in fear and knowledge they had a chance only with their arms joined.

Yet a single man wasn't enough to prevent the sage from freeing himself and striking down his foes. Briskly, he rolled aside from the thug's grip and with a spell incantation, he killed all three enemies.

The two survivors didn't share a word. The wizard was aware of what needed to be done and he hustled to the monolith immediately, starting the ritual of its undoing. Worg simply watched.

The ground began shaking, but it was merely a shiver at first. Dark energies were soaring out of the crystal as its power was leaving it, accompanied by a painful hiss almost as if it screamed in agony.

The Silverian believed everything went according to the sage's plan, but he was wrong. A thunderous voice suddenly spoke, originating from within the rock in the centre of the room. "Worg!" It was Antiochus.

The addressed man didn't respond. He scanned his surroundings, expecting a portal to appear and monsters to pour out. Yet nothing happened. The king of the Realm of Silver was talking from afar, his magic apparently not strong enough to counter the sage's. Only a beaten Antiochus would ever converse with his opponent.

"Worg. You insolent maggot! You have destroyed everything! You in your ignorant quest!"

"You dare to say I destroyed everything?!" the Silverian exclaimed in anger, his eyes searching for an image of his arch-enemy at which he could express his negative sentiments. Antiochus didn't materialize, however. He cowardly remained hidden within the safe confines of his ice cold castle, forcing Worg to settle for the monolith as a substitution to his infinitely evil face.

"You fool! You don't understand anything!"

"Then enlighten me! Why did you destroy my home and use me as a tool while I served you, unaware of the truth?! Or worse still, why did you murder your own son so that you could wage this bloody war in your thirst for power?!"

"The ruler of your nation was a stubborn man. You do not understand the reasons of politics. I had to protect my realm. And as for my son... I didn't execute him."

"You what?!" Worg shouted in disbelief. It must have been a lie. Antiochus was all about artifices and treachery.

"You idiot, what did you think?! That I sent my son to a distant land to get him killed?! The sole heir to my throne? Do you consider me mad? Besides, if I had wanted to invade Amania, I would have done so straight away without any fanfares. The element of surprise would be a great thing to have on my side and I've always been aware of this fact. I have to know how to fight a battle after so many conflicts."

It made sense to Worg. But there was so much unexplained. He had to ask. "Who killed Tadeus?"

"Amanians, obviously."

"Amanians?"

"They wished to declare war on me."

"But why the princess? Why marriage? If they wished to cast you down, why did you risk your son's life? Why did you throw him to the wolves?!"

"This never was about the princess. About marriage. There are things far more important at stake than some silly romance!"

"If it wasn't about marriage, then what?"

"Gunpowder. Long range weapons. Technological advance."

"You mean..." Worg begin his sentence, imagining the soldiers wielding bizarre arms back in the village.

"Exactly. It threatens the very balance of our existence. If we were successful, we would have brought in Elyanna, I would curse her and she would be our gold mine. No kidnapping needed, everything perfectly within legal, if not even friendly terms, concerning our relations with Amania.

"However, I sensed the public opinion in Amania wasn't favourable, so I assumed my charismatic son would be more successful. It was my best bet.

"If everything went according to my plan, she would reveal the much required information to us stored deep in her mind. Surely she had to be acquainted with the technology, but if not, she certainly knew who was, who was a key person, who we would have to take care of, what to enchant, what blueprint to destroy and so on. In the end, we would eradicate the technological surge and everything would be back to normal.

"All of this provided only if those scumbags hadn't interrupted my plot. It wasn't the decision of Amanian ruling class, but I couldn't have expected that there were conspirators. I can explain, but you have to stop unmaking the monolith. It is crucial that this war continues or we are doomed."

"We? No, I don't think so. You will be damned with your evil schemes. Nobody else but you. You know you deserve it."

"I'm not the paragon of virtue, but there's nobody saint in this world! Look at yourself! How many have you killed in your hatred, huh?! How many have perished because of that hunger you have felt since the demise of your homeland?"

"You did this to me," Worg uttered angrily.

"Don't shift the blame. You alone are responsible for your actions. But sins can be forgiven. Order the wizard to desist! Don't you understand that the entire world is at stake?! Listen!"

"Why should I? The only thing you desire is devastation and I won't allow you to ruin another realm and leave its children broken in fear."

"Can't you see reason?! Can't you hear that there is far more at stake than a bunch of kids?"

"Just because you want to end someone's evolution doesn't give you the right to..."

"Evolution?! Evolution?! This isn't about evolution! This is about onslaught! They drill into the soil, they harvest the earth! They demolish the magical landlines! They defile the arcane channels of magic! They don't even understand what they are doing! That they are unmaking our world!

"I had to step in before they used the assassination as an excuse to actually wage war on me! But as dire the situation outside might have seemed, I barely scratched them. Large cities still stand and the scarce number of villages I have destroyed are being retaken. My minions are hunted like vermin. And now you. The final blow.

"That is why you must see reason. That is why you must realize I am not the wicked man. You remember the name. Zafario. He is the one you should be angry with. He is the one who plotted it. Ordered the death of Tadeus. Then usurped the throne by murdering King William. He is the one you need to cast down. Not me."

"You lie," Worg singlehandedly dismissed the claims, although his mind was a pot of boiling and confused thoughts. Antiochus was evil and Worg harboured resentment toward him.

However, by killing the closest the Silverian had to a son, Zafario was also a scumbag. Provided that the king of the Realm of Silver spoke the truth. It was likely though. Antiochus' plea was genuine as fear flowed in his words.

"Would I lie to you now? Now that everything is at stake? Would I?! Time is running out, but fine. I will show you. Just concentrate!"

Suddenly, Worg felt strange tingling in his brain. It swiftly grew and in a moment, his vision was replaced by an alien memory.

21: Chapter 21

"What do you think of our visitors, friend?" Zafario spoke whilst standing in a dreary room made of stone tiles. Perhaps it was a cellar of the castle.

"They make my skin crawl," the jester answered, emerging from the shadowy corner of the chamber.

"Seems we are in agreement. There is certainly something wrong with those two," the Lord of Arms paused, his eyes looking at the clown with a questioning gaze. Almost as if he was expecting him to come up with a response.

"I agree," the jester replied.

"Well," Zafario sighed, seeing that his cohort was so stupid that subtle suggestions wouldn't work. "I'm sure they didn't come because of Elyanna. The heir to the Realm of Silver and his servant. They have ulterior motives. Antiochus wouldn't want to befriend the likes of us."

"Yes, that foolish man would never do that."

"But what does he want then?"

"What does..." the jester repeated confusedly.

"Possibly, he wants to subdue our kingdom just like many others in the past. He wants to enslave us or kill us."

"Enslave us or kill us. We won't have that. I'll see to it. I'll make them pay," the clown said, his mind boiling in anger. He departed shortly afterwards, leaving the Lord of Arms alone in darkness.

Although there was no direct evidence of him being the one instigating it, the wide and sinister grin on his face told it all. However, the vision didn't end there. It shifted, showing two men in royal service ditching their armour in favour of tattered rags and commoner clothes.

"We should climb up," the leader of the two spoke, "the barbarian is standing in front of the door and the prince is completely out of his mind. By the time either realizes what's going on, the prince will be dead."

Soon afterwards, they were scaling the tower in which Tadeus was. All while everyone in the courtyard could observe the plot taking place. It was certain that the Lord of Arms was behind it.

The vision continued to portray the obvious. The assassins got to the top. Murdered Tadeus in the next few seconds. Worg rushed to the scene. And then, the vision faded away. He was back in reality.

He would have reminisced as there were many emotions in his brain that needed calming, but Antiochus' situation was dire. "You have seen the truth. Stop the heinous destruction! We can beat them together!"

"Wait!" Worg objected. "What if this is fake?! What if you planned this to trick me into believing your foul schemes?"

"It can't be fake," the sage spoke, his hands emitting reddish flares that were unmaking the monolith. "He replayed that memory out of his own head exactly as he saw it. Altering such a vision would be excruciatingly tiring. It would definitely sever his grip over the invasion."

"Have you seen the vision as well? And how do you know?" Worg wondered.

"I'm a mage, I simply know."

"Now end this. We have to halt the conspiracy right in the roots!" Antiochus insisted.

"If the time of magic has to come to closure, then I accept it and so should you, Antiochus. But it is not my call," the sage added his thoughts.

Although Worg was aware of the implications, his thirst for revenge was stronger. Besides, dooming one side basically meant helping the other to succeed. A rascal replaced by another. The choice presented to the Silverian wasn't particularly admirable as at least one party stood to gain.

However, it was much easier to destroy the monolith and aim for Cassire Castle rather than let Antiochus win and have to head all the way to the Realm of Silver to struggle with a magician far more powerful than before.

"Finish it," Worg said.

Antiochus didn't even have a chance to respond. The monolith exploded, its shards splitting into dust that sprinkled over the entire chamber in a bluish glow. It quickly settled on the ground and soaked into the soil. The invasion was over, but Worg's path to retribution was merely getting started.

 

22: Chapter 22

The two were marching out of the caverns, emerging to the surface to see the world was still ravaged by the monstrosities spawned by Antiochus. However, both were aware that it was only a matter of time until those creatures were beaten and the taint of wickedness was driven out.

"You've made the right decision," the old sage commented. "Even though I can sense your troubles."

Worg didn't ponder whether the man could look into his mind. Instead, his thoughts were rooted in the turmoil he was caught in. The deed left him with a sour aftertaste, knowing that he had helped an evil man such as Zafario, but at least he didn't allow thousands of innocent civilians to suffer the same fate as Worg's kinsmen.

"How did you meet with Noran?" he wondered, deeming it unimaginable such an old and erudite man would befriend a thug.

"His father saved my life. A noble man. Quite unlike the progeny. Both were bandits, but the elder had been forced to become that due to circumstances. Tax collectors killed his wife when he wasn't home, claiming she didn't comply. He wanted justice, but law didn't guarantee it, so he decided to find it on his own. Robbing tax collectors and giving the money to the poor.

"His son... that is another story. The profession of a brigand got the better of the lad. Greed and power. He became just like those he fought."

"That is a sad end to a bloodline," Worg thought aloud.

"I agree, but sometimes destiny... or should I say people... arrange things in such an unpredictable manner. There's little we could have done. There's little you could have done."

"What will you do now?"

"Me? Well, I'm an old man. My weary bones need rest. I feel I won't be able to cast another spell in at least a decade. I wish I could aid you in your quest, but I'm afraid we will have to part ways. The best I can do is to tell you I am confident in your success."

23: Chapter 23

The castle would be guarded by many soldiers. It was certain that Zafario was informed about Worg's prison break. It was even more certain they would ensure the Silverian never reached the fortified walls.

He was no superman. He couldn't take on the entire garrison singlehandedly. He could have used the chaos that would have continued if he had allowed the monolith to remain, but he didn't regret his decision in the cavern.

Besides, he couldn't tell where Zafario was. The idea of storming inside the castle yet realizing the Lord of Arms wasn't there was comical. He needed a spy. An insider. Surely there was one in this land ripe with conspiracies and coups.

Yet he knew of nobody. He had no connections, no friends whatsoever. Or was he wrong with that assumption? What about the village Tadeus and he had freed from the bandits? It might not have sounded promising, but it was the only thing he could think of. He set out immediately.

24: Chapter 24

He arrived there at night. The journey had lasted for more than three days. He was notably exhausted and yearned for a proper sleep his hatred had denied him. He couldn't stay awake like that forever.

It was a village on the fringe of Amania. A completely forgotten region of little significance. Perhaps that was why this settlement and its neighbours had been spared from Antiochus' carnage.

Yet despite the dead of midnight, the place teemed with life. There were four people gathered in the central part, holding torches. All familiar to Worg. He had seen them when they had confronted the thugs.

"Hello," he spoke as he approached them.

Each of them turned to the newcomer, observing his face with cautiousness at first, then surprise.

"You?" one of the three women present shouted. She apparently didn't expect him to return.

"What brings you here?" a man asked.

"I'm tired. I need a bed to lay my head upon."

"You've come to the right person!" he answered with pride. "I own an inn in here. Come, I'll show you. You can have a room for free as a token of my gratitude."

"Thank you," Worg replied, following the innkeeper to a mid-sized shabby house just nearby.

"We don't have many travellers stopping by, especially now that the rumours... you know. Monsters, the king dead."

"I think you won't be having any troubles with monsters," Worg commented.

"Yes? Well I hope this crazy crisis is over. Ever since this happened, we've been out of visitors. Almost as if everybody forgot about our settlement. In fact, the tax collector should have arrived a week ago. I suppose they've got bigger things to worry about if those whispers are true."

They opened the door to the pub, revealing a cosy but darkened place. Worg didn't mind, for he could imagine how it looked like when it abounded with life. People tippling ale, drunk patrons dancing, others playing cards and shouting.

The man lit a candle on the counter in the corner of the room where many bottles were sitting. Then he headed towards a staircase close by.

"What about your companion, the noble man?"

"He died, unfortunately," Worg responded truthfully, although he realized something.

They didn't know from which lands he had come from. They didn't know who Prince Tadeus was. They didn't know the struggle had partly been initiated by Antiochus. Worg needed to stay quiet about it.

"That's a terrible loss."

Worg didn't dare to comment. Whenever he thought about the prince, his blood began to boil. Revenge was the only thing that could buy him out of his hate.

They finally got to a small room where the Silverian could sleep.

"Okay, here it is. A modest bed. I'm sorry I can't offer more. It's the best we have here. If you wish something, I will be downstairs."

25: Chapter 25

It was a night of nightmares, but Worg didn't complain. At least he had a decent rest after a long time. Now that he was fresh, he could head into the fray as he had unfinished business with Zafario.

Just as he reached the ground floor, he noticed the innkeeper lying stretched over the bar. He was slumbering.

Although the Silverian didn't want to wake him up and disturb him, he had to because he wanted to find the mayor. Only that person could possibly help him. A person surely connected with the outside world.

"Hey," Worg spoke as he shook the man mildly.

Fortunately, the innkeeper's sleep wasn't that deep. He rose up fairly fast, his weary eyes gazing at the Silverian in confusion.

"Wha... what?" he uttered.

"Could you tell me where the mayor is?"

"The mayor? Oh yes, the mayor. He's asleep. In his house. It's the third one from the small blue one opposite this pub."

"Thank you," Worg replied and left. Meanwhile, the innkeeper sank back to the wooden table and dozed off.

The day was dawning, but the village life was yet to wake up. This settlement was very lazy.

He did as instructed. Third door from a blue house. He counted them and soon was in front of a tall building. It wasn't really standing apart from the others, but the head of an insignificant village wasn't meant to be a king who could afford a castle.

Worg knocked and in an instant, he could hear somewhat annoyed mumbles coming from within.

The entrance opened quickly afterwards, revealing the mayor himself, his eyes still blinking in drowsiness. However, as soon as the man spotted who the visitor was, his jaw dropped.

"You. Our hero! I haven't expected our saviour to come by! How can I help you, my friend?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm in dire need of help."

"Anything for our saviour!"

"Do you know anyone who could get me to the castle? Or anyone who knows anything about Zafario?"

"Zafario?" the mayor wondered with a slightly bitter undertone. Apparently, the name wasn't celebrated around those parts.

"Exactly that man."

"Is it... is it true? I mean, did King William die? And did Zafario take the throne?"

"So the news reached you. Yes, it is true. I'm not particularly welcome at the court, but I need to get there."

"Well... since you're a good friend, I believe I can trust you. I have an acquaintance in the burgeoning city of Akhalla. Hailey. She is a wealthy merchant who supplied us in dire times, but something has gone wrong during the recent days.

"They say it's because of the invasion. The Silverian attack. Some prince killed and the Silverian king demanding satisfaction. I can't tell, but I can't dispatch anyone to investigate either. We're a tightly knit community.

"So you would be doing us a great deal of help if you found out what went awry and why the Akhallan merchant doesn't send supplies anymore and if she could renew the shipments. Oh, of course, your question. The woman is supposedly a distant relative of Zafario's. I'm not sure on which terms they are, but I'm certain the two know each other. If anyone can aid you, it's her."

"Thanks for the help. I'll ask about the shipment, don't worry. And... I was wondering. Do you have a horse in here? Or some sort of transport?"

"I'm sorry. The sole animal closest to a horse we have here is a lame mule. You're better off on your feet."

"I understand. Could you point out the direction of Akhalla then?"

"Alright. You must first follow the trail leading out of the village..."

26: Chapter 26

After having a breakfast at the inn, he hit the road. It was only a few days yet he found the serenity bizarre. It wasn't like the Realm of Silver where cutthroats or a desperate horde of people jumped at him and tried to rob him or even kill him for food.

It was the absence of the portals that made it seem odd, however. The silence and quiet was so strange because he was used to running into an ambush and clashing with the spawn of Antiochus' evil mind.

No matter that he was alone now and not supported by a band of brigands. The lack of battle was simply too weird to him. It was like he had retired.

Nevertheless, he still glimpsed behind his back occasionally in order to ensure safety from an underhanded assault. No highwayman waiting below the bridge, no vigilante sneaking behind a tree, no monsters lurking in the shadows and poising to strike.

He arrived at the city gates eventually, having hidden his axe in a bush nearby, knowing that a brute-looking man with a weapon wasn't going to win hearts. It really was a lively town and even though he couldn't behold it with his eyes as walls separated him from the inside, the shouting he heard reassured him.

There was a guard eyeing him as if he saw a threat in him.

"Seeking to stop by a friend. I mean no trouble," Worg spoke.

"You'd better not mean any," the soldier uttered in a baleful tone, trying to sound harsh and intimidating.

"Can I pass?" Worg inquired.

"Alright. But remember, we are watching," the guard replied and the gates opened, revealing a vast town in front of him. There were so many houses and even more people walking outside. It was almost a shock to the Silverian.

He wasn't used to that in the Realm of Silver. There seldom were any walls and large enclaves were nonexistent in there. The cruel conditions of winter prevented the forming of anything beyond the size of a grown village.

He was glad they didn't want to kill him because of his origins, but it was obvious that they had no reason to. They didn't know where he had hailed from. They probably didn't even know what had happened at Cassire Castle. A turbulent day it had been back then. Worg wondered if anyone from the court, including Zafario and the jester, was aware that Worg was alive and hadn't perished.

Akhalla was teeming with life. People were chatting and shouting, some were running, others were trading, debating or working. The whole place seemed very prosperous and flourishing.

"War declared on Skyzan Kingdom! Skyzan Kingdom in cahoots with the Realm of Silver! War declared on Skyzan Kingdom!" a town crier squalled as he darted along the lush streets. The name was unknown to Worg, but he sensed that something wasn't right. Amania going to war so soon after the Silverian invasion. It didn't appear sound.

Nevertheless, he shook the odd thought off and headed towards the city centre, finding the stone paved ground littered with petty markets. Groceries, leather, cattle, it was all there and the merchants yelled and screamed in their battle to attract customers and deter them from visiting their rivals.

There were many women strolling around or even bartering, but Worg couldn't be sure whether one of them was Hailey. There was no better option than asking though. That is why he approached the first person who stood still in there.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where Hailey is?"

"Who? I've never heard of her," the woman responded and hastily withdrew as if she was afraid of Worg.

Although he was initially unsuccessful, it didn't put him off. He simply had to try until he got a positive answer.

"Excuse me, can you direct me to Hailey?"

"Hailey? No. I can't help you. I don't know her."

He seemed to be out of luck, but he persisted. His patience bore fruit soon enough, much to his delight.

"Hailey. Hmm. Why do you want to see her?" wondered a rather short man with a sharp look in his eyes.

"I've got a friend who's in need. She can help him."

"I'm not sure a bankrupt merchant could help anyone. Unless it didn't involve money, of course. But well, why do I care. She should be in the pub. Working as a cleaner. Sad end to a promising lady."

"Thank you. Could you direct me to the pub?"

"Here, it's right across the square," the man answered, his finger pointing towards a shabby old house nearby.

"Thank you," Worg repeated and immediately headed that way.

"No problem." The Silverian could hear the person respond, but he was already at the door. With a deep breath, he opened.

The place was full of singing and yelling drunkards. Some of them were holding their pints and cheering. Others were quarrelling or even fighting. These didn't interest Worg in, however.

Instead, he glanced around until he beheld a woman. She was dressed in the usual housemaid clothing – a large and shabby dress. Nothing sort of showing power and wealth she might once have had, provided she was Hailey.

"Are you Hailey?" Worg approached the person as she was sweeping the floor.

"Yes, why?" she stopped for a moment, feeling relief as drops of sweat poured down her face. She was notably exhausted due to her work.

"A friend sent me. He said he wonders why there are no shipments to the village anymore. Sadly, I don't remember the name of the village."

"You must mean Chez. Well, as you can see, I'm out of business. I invested a great deal of gold into a wagon of goods. Of course, Silverian creatures invaded and destroyed it. Poof. There went my money. Damn that foul Antiochus. Damn them all. And damn Zafario for waging war against friendly neighbours instead of the Realm of Silver!"

"I was told that you and Zafario were friends."

She sighed in annoyance. She apparently wasn't glad when someone connected her to him. "What is it with you people? We were childhood friends. Childhood. That's a difference. I harbour no friendship for him now."

"So you can't get me to him."

"No. Certainly not. He doesn't even remember my name anymore. He doesn't remember anyone's name. He is too proud. You should have seen him parading around these parts after his so called victory.

"I hate him. Many people hate him. But there are even more people who will cheer anything that's poured into their ears. It's us. The ordinary people. History never remembers. Or better yet, history makes stories about us. Oh, how we loved Zafario the Perfect. How we rejoiced upon him claiming the kingdom. It's always like that through history and nobody cares."

"It so happens that I have unfinished business with Zafario," Worg interrupted.

"And I said that I can't get you to..." she was about to answer, but then the innkeeper noticed that she was idle.

"Hey! Hailey! What the hell are you doing?!" yelled the tall, pot-bellied woman with a small white hat and an apron concealing her apparel. "Get back to work or I'll chop you to pieces. You're not being paid for talking!"

"Alright, alright" she replied.

"Who the hell are you?" the innkeeper's wrath focused on Worg. "Who are you with? Do you want a pint or what? Why do you disturb my workers?!"

"Calm down, Edna. He's with us," somebody shouted from behind, prompting the Silverian to turn and see a group of scruffy, bearded individuals in shabby and torn clothes. Although Worg looked similarly, a very visible trait set them apart. They were undernourished and ill in appearance.

"Fine, get that clown off my eyes!" the innkeeper almost screamed.

Confused as to what was going on, the Silverian approached the table with those men unknown to him, sitting on a free spot whilst they watched him with shy smiles. They were certainly up to something.

"You look like a strong lad," the apparently oldest of them commented. He had balding white hair and a wrinkly face, his tattered rags couldn't hide his slender and weak arms, but Worg could notice a dagger sheathed behind his belt.

"Who are you?"

"Let's say we're friends," the old man replied. "We've overheard that you have unfinished business with Zafario."

"What's it for you?"

"Well, it so happens that we have unfinished business with Zafario, too. Isn't it spectacular? We could join our forces."

"I suppose you must have a plan then," Worg wondered. Something about them just wasn't right, but he couldn't tell. They seemed willing to aid him and he needed all the help he could get.

"Of course. Now listen," the man turned to whispering while the rest of his friends resumed their drunken chatter in order to drown the important talk the two people were having. "Word is that the new king is travelling around in a parade. It should take him at least a week until he returns to his legions and leads them into a fight against our neighbours. Now is a perfect time to strike, isn't it?"

It appealed to Worg, but he was suspicious. "Why do you want him dead so bad?"

"Let's say he did something unpleasant to my family."

27: Chapter 27

They had strung a deal. Laughing and shouting to look like ordinary drunkards, they headed out. A group of four men. The plan was simple. Ambush a coach that travelled the roads. Zafario was presumed to be in it.

"Hey, Levarg," some unknown individual bellowed at the old man from afar.

"Hey!" he yelled back, his face showing a wide grin. The two were apparently very close to each other.

"Going on a hunt again? Don't forget to bring me a coin this time!"

"Don't fret!"

The chat ended at that. Worg didn't really care about it. It was an regular talk of two friends. Besides, he had other problems to worry about. Revenge. He was presented a chance to have his revenge.

They left the city gates quickly afterwards. Worg found his axe still in the same hideout where he had dropped it prior to entering the town. Then they trod a paved route far enough to have the city of Akhalla hidden beyond the horizon. Surrounded by woods on both sides, that part of the road was a perfect spot for an ambush.

Each man concealed himself behind either a bush or up in a tree. The trap was set. All they had to do was to wait.

Minutes had passed, yet they seemed like hours. There was complete silence. Not even the birds chirped. And then it appeared. A coach approaching them from the distance. Horse galloping was becoming louder and clearer.

Until it was the exact time to strike. All four men jumped out of their hideouts, encircling the black carriage and taking the coachman by surprise. While the three threw the person out of his seat and were busy overtaking the coach, Worg reached for the door and opened. His head was full of vengeance. He believed he was merely a step away from it.

However, when his eyes beheld the insides of the vehicle, his thoughts became paralyzed as a horrifying realization overwhelmed him. Zafario wasn't there. Instead, there was a plump man in posh clothing sporting a monocle. There were heavy bags filled to the brim with gold coins. He had been tricked.

"Have you seen Zafario?" the Silverian inquired angrily.

The man sat still and hastily twitched his head in denial. Although he didn't cry or run in panic, it was apparent he was scared to death.

Worg was rightfully livid. He turned to the ringleader of the brigands approaching him with a wide grin. The only thing Worg could think about at that time was to twist that stupid smirk into a terrible pain.

"You used me!" he yelled as he grabbed the thug by the neck and lifted him into the air.

"Hey, easy, we're friends, remember?" the old bandit managed to pull out of his lungs despite being choked.

"We're far from that!"

The two wished to help their boss, but a single frowning glare from Worg's eyes froze them on the spot.

"Get out of my sight, you useless bastard," he snarled. "All of you!" Then, he dropped the old thief and observed the gang bolt out.

He was disgusted. They had tricked him into assisting him with robbing some rich individual, possibly a banker. Why had he been so brainless to fall for that? Why hadn't he seen through the ruse?

He paced back to the city. His instincts guided his legs and he let himself be carried. As to what his next steps would be, he couldn't guess. He wanted to forget about this escapade and pretend it had never happened.

28: Chapter 28

He was back in Akhalla, having concealed his axe again. The city hadn't changed a little, still being a bustling enclave teeming with hurried life of constant rushing and business. However, it appeared so slow and dull to him.

He wasn't satisfied with how things had evolved and his emotions were projecting that into his perception. He had a bitter taste in his mouth, a sour feeling and his vision seemed blue.

Although he cursed at himself deep in his mind and believed it was the worst deed he could have done at that time, fortune smiled upon him. It was one of those inexplicable things that fate itself weaved.

"Hey," echoed a voice originating from a blind and empty alley.

Worg's attention was enticed. He curiously gazed into the cul-de-sac filled with wooden crates and barrels, wondering whether it was him being addressed.

"Come closer," the whisper ordered him.

Bearing in mind the latest betrayal, he was cautious. That didn't mean he had to turn away though.

He walked towards the speaker, shrouded in shadows and concealed behind crates, until he stood face to face with him. Or at least face to a cowl hiding the face. Worg couldn't tell who it was. Most likely, he had never met the individual obscured by a gray coat and cape.

"Good thing I found you before you could do yourself any more harm," the enigmatic person spoke.

"Who are you?"

"That's not important right now. What is, however, is the fact that I've been observing you. Watching your steps. You've almost blown it during the coach ambush. Just imagine having killed a renowned banker. The guards would be at your head like rabid dogs."

"You've been following me?"

"For quite a time. But to business. You and I have a mutual goal."

"Zafario?"

"Shh! Not so loud. Yes. It's the man."

"How can I be sure you don't want to use me like the last group?"

"I'm aware that winning your trust might not be easy, but I've prepared myself for exactly that ordeal."

"What do you mean?"

"Just watch," the mysterious man said and his hands rose, creating a vortex that twirled around the shabby wall. It was merely a mush of particles swimming in a rotating ocean of unknown, but it soon formed into a vision.

It was Cassire Castle with its inhabitants going on with their lives. The image fixed on one man though. On Zafario. Worg's blood immediately began to boil upon witnessing the treacherous individual walking around with his head high. Sitting on the throne, ordering his servants, debating with generals, speaking to the peasantry.

Although the former Lord of Arms had been a king only for a short period of time, he had got used to his role fairly fast. And with him apparently everyone else. It was as if there hadn't ever been any King William. It was as if Zafario had always been the true ruler of Amania.

The vision ended abruptly. It was undeniable that the enigmatic person was a talented sorcerer, but it could have been a trick. It didn't prove anything at all. Worg was still suspicious.

"I'm not convinced."

"I can get you inside the castle," the shrouded man elaborated. "Unharmed. In a royal shipment. Concealed in a crate. Nobody will figure it out as it will be enchanted."

"A perfect way to get rid of me."

The shadowy individual sighed. "Look, if I wanted to kill you, I would have already done so. During our talk, I had millions of opportunities."

"Or you have your own agenda and this is just a means of fooling me into doing it."

"You're right. I could tell some mercenaries. They will gladly do my will. Like the bandits who saved you. Yes. They are probably a better idea. The money I am willing to offer them..."

"What? Bandits?" Worg interrupted. "Who are you?! Reveal yourself, now!"

The man was reluctant to comply. He didn't move at all, instead awaiting the situation to resolve itself. The Silverian wasn't that patient, however. He grabbed the cape and removed it from the mysterious person's head, unveiling a constantly shifting blurry stream of energy floating back and forth where the face should have been.

"What is this trickery?"

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't risk being exposed by anyone. Imagine guards approached me and did the same as you did. That is why I had to hide myself behind spells. I'm sure you understand.

"As for the bandits... well, you've heard me. It was a crazy thing, wasn't it? A band of brigands taking on the whole castle and winning. Have you not wondered why they saved you in the first place? Why would I make that happen if I didn't want to help you?"

"But why me?"

"I'm a mage. I can try to predict the future. In the visions, you proved to play a key role if you were given a chance. That is why you."

As strange as it might have sounded, Worg remained doubtful. "What did your witchery predict about our debate?"

"That you will agree because you know you might not be presented with such a lifetime chance elsewhere."

"Maybe it's true," the Silverian speculated, "but I don't work with people I don't know anymore. It brought bad luck to me so far."

"I see. Well, consider it as a part of the payment. If you succeed, I will reveal myself to you."

"You don't understand. I don't want money from you. I don't want anything at all from you. You are aware of my intentions. And if you really saw the future and observed my every step, then you should realize that I really don't work with those I don't know."

"Fine," the enigmatic man sighed. "As you wish."

For a minute, there was silence. While the hazy energy started spinning like mad, Worg watched. It began dissolving soon, unveiling short hair first, freckled forehead second. The rest was exposed soon afterwards. King William himself stood before the Silverian.

"What..." Worg was taken aback.

"You see why I didn't want anyone to spot me."

"But... you were supposed to be dead!"

"And who told you? Let me guess. Was it Antiochus? Doesn't matter. I've been accused of treason and mercilessly slaughtered by Zafario, a man I had trusted with my life. A man I believed. A man I never dared to question or spy on.

"My death was only according to what the Lord of Arms had seen. In truth, I managed to survive the assassination. Nobody was aware of the fact that I am a sorcerer and that saved my hide.

"Now I am deemed a traitor by many and the guards won't think twice about casting me down if they notice me. That is why I have to operate in secrecy. That is why I need you to bring Zafario to justice. I may have survived, but my family paid the highest price. I curse myself for being so naive and not having anticipated this."

"You could have seen this in your predictions."

"Don't be so morbid. What's done is done. I failed to protect my family and you dare to pester me about that? I said I didn't expect him to betray me. I never used my magic skills to observe him. To spy on him while he was away."

Although Worg still had his doubts, he recognized he would eventually agree. The former king was right. Such an opportunity would certainly not present itself anytime soon if he declined this one.

There were some discrepancies that gnawed at his thoughts, but he laid them aside for that time. Besides, he was unaware of the larger picture, unaware of many things that had happened and how they had happened. For instance, he didn't know the bandit breakout had taken place before William's assassination.

It might have had a simple explanation, but since Worg was unconscious of those facts, he wouldn't ask. Perhaps the deposed sovereign had an ulterior motive of his own, tricking the Silverian just like others had before. Worg had no option, however. Even if he served the needs of others, it was the only way to serve his.

29: Chapter 29

A royal shipment. That was where he was to hide. The toppled king showed him his spot, a wooden crate in an alleyway with a flamboyant coach parked there. After having been instructed where he would be dropped off and what were his possibilities, Worg crawled into the timber confines awaiting him.

William sealed it afterwards, chanting strange incantations that were supposedly meant to protect the Silverian. Worg couldn't tell whether it was true, yet he had to trust his ally. It was the best chance he had.

Although he was cramped into such a small space, holes, crevices and other imperfections allowed him to see outside. The busy streets were still abundant with people rushing to get somewhere, but Worg didn't care anymore. Instead, his attention was fixed on three men approaching the coach. Things were about to be put into motion.

King William had already vanished, but the Silverian was sure that the former sovereign would be watching his progress somehow. And maybe when the time was right, he would appear.

The guards were in close proximity of the carriage. They opened the doors whilst mumbling something and then proceeded to load the vehicle with cargo. Box after box they carried it inside until they were about to grab Worg.

One grasped the container and tried to pick it up, but it was too heavy. He could barely move it. His comrades beheld the escapade and that provoked their laughter.

"Help me out, this one's damn bulky!" he shouted, but his colleagues just observed in glee.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Get here!"

The angrily issued command convinced them to aid their fellow. Together, they lifted the crate albeit with difficulties and headed towards the coach whilst breathing heavily. It was a tremendous encumbrance, for Worg was nowhere near being as light as a feather. He was more like an elephant.

Nevertheless, they did it. The freight was sitting in the carriage and they were all set to go. Now the only thing that separated them from the goal – Cassire Castle – was the long road ahead of them.

The door was shut, the curtains drawn. There was little light coming in and that was making the Silverian nervous. However, he had to get used to that as things were already in motion and there was no turning back.

30: Chapter 30

Worg had drowsed off. The journey was simply too tiresome. Although it was only a light sleep, it wasn't without a dream. Or rather a nightmare.

It was as if his own subconsciousness recognized he was heading to the final destination of the adventure. As if it wanted to illustrate everything that had happened and sum those events it up.

He had been pacing so swiftly that there hadn't been a minute to stop, look back and consolidate. He had just moved forward. Drowning his fear, anxiety and remorse in the pool of advancement.

Now was the time to focus on all those things that had been left behind. Feel guilty about abandoning the prince in the spire. Replay the memories of them together like father and son. If only he had known.

It went deeper than that though. The clock seemed to go backwards mercilessly, putting him back into the era of doom. The age when his land had been transformed into a hellish wasteland.

His own had been parents missing. He had never found them. He had never stumbled upon their corpses. If only they had returned, his own subconsciousness shouted. If only it had been a bad dream.

As he was twitching and shuddering while the nightmare showed him every dark second of his ordeal in his homeland, he wasn't certain what tormented him more. The fact that he had lost everything or that he had been tricked by the one responsible for the disaster? Tricked to become a traitor? A slave for the enemy of his kin? A disgrace to his own nation?

If only he had known. If only he had learned and put down the evil sorcerer years ago. None of this would have occurred. Alas, there was no rewriting history after what had happened.

He was a betrayer and he had to bear that mark even after his death. None would ever forgive him and he was fully aware of it. Perhaps he had even come to terms with that fate and embraced it. However, his honour prevented him from leaving it at that. As long as he drew breath, he was bound to right the wrongs he had done. It wouldn't save the deceased, but it would at least bring peace to Worg's troubled mind.

The memory shifted. Not to the past, but forward to the more recent times. He was standing in the cavern with the sage again. A treasured minute of silence after dealing a huge blow to Antiochus.

Although Worg didn't admit it, he subconsciously believed thousands of tormented souls of his kinsmen had been freed from the afterlife grip of that vile ruler of the Realm of Silver. That was rejuvenating.

"I'm an old man. My weary bones require rest." the sage elaborated. It was the replay of an earlier event, yet it was strangely vivid and real. Almost as if it was actually happening. "I feel that I won't be able to cast another spell in a decade. I wish I could aid you in your quest, but I'm afraid that we will have to part ways. The best I can do is..."

"Is what?"

"... to tell you that I am confident in your success. You will deliver the sinners to justice. You will prevail."

"Even if I could have prevented all that?"

For a moment, the sage looked at the Silverian with a questioning gaze. "And how, my friend? We are but prisoners of the events that others shape without us being aware. You are a great rival to both Zafario's and Antiochus' plans. If you had known when needed, then you would never have allowed the past to evolve like it had."

"But I served Antiochus. I was blinded and couldn't connect the dots because of my foolery. By that, I betrayed my kin," Worg spoke out of remorse, his head hung in shame.

They were on the edge of the cavern. The dawn was about to usher in a new era and both men could clearly see the world was beginning to recover from the evil that had swept the land.

As the sage glanced over the horizon, his eyes returned to Worg – a troubled person who desperately sought absolution, having drowned his sins in endless and tireless work. There was a saving flare blazing in the magician's eyes. A flare of a sagacious old man whom everyone wished to have by their side. A friendly father who was there to help. A father whom Worg had lost along with his mother. The soothing element. Perhaps there was redemption.

"You didn't serve Antiochus as far as I know. Your allegiance always remained with Tadeus," the old man spoke, rendering Worg frozen on the spot in confusion. And while the Silverian stood there, the sage walked away, leaving the confounded man to ponder the words he had been told.

He had never thought of it that way, but it was true. He had never aided Antiochus directly. He only did Tadeus' bidding. That knowledge made his burning mind ease off. Hate was slowly being replaced by peace. Although it was undeniable that he had been in the service of Antiochus, the prince had been his legitimate liege. The scars wouldn't heal, but that awareness was the new start. He could look in the faces of his ancestors and not feel the insurmountable guilt and shame.

31: Chapter 31

Worg had long since lost the track of time. It might have been a day, it might have been a whole week. It wasn't relevant though. All that mattered was to get inside the castle. He wasn't even sure whether he was headed there, but he had to believe.

The hope proved right, thankfully. King William hadn't tricked him. They finally arrived at the designated destination. The depths of Cassire Castle. There the guards unloaded the cargo and with the help of servants, they carried it to the cellar, closing the door behind as soon as they were done.

Silence ensued. There wasn't a soul down in the dark and damp place. Whatever the shipment was for, it certainly wasn't important any much. It served Worg's needs perfectly though.

The coast was clear, his path paved. He pressed against the crate lid with force, cracking it open. Nobody seemed to be near to hear the noise, fortunately. The Silverian had the element of surprise.

Although he hadn't been told exactly what to do, Worg had already been pondering about what William had revealed. The routes, the guard patrols and posts, notable places, hideouts... even a secret passageway leading to the throne room.

Amongst that information, a particular one crystallized. The dungeon. It wasn't that far. And it was filled to the brim with prisoners. People who had to be purged after the recent coup.

In fact, Worg could hear some of their moans as he approached the door. He could instigate a breakout, he thought. He could create a temporary diversion. Chaos that would give him some time. Confusion that would give him a better chance at success.

Freed captives would try to fight their way out and he would head directly to the upper sections of the castle where the throne room was. The confrontation suddenly seemed so palpable despite the obstacles still present.

He had only a dagger with himself, having received it from King William, but sneaky and backstabbing tactics weren't his favourite. He was dying to get his hands on a fine long blade that could slice through flesh and bones. He was sure that guards around these parts certainly had some. All that he needed was to rob them.

He poked out of the room first, glancing around to ensure that the coast was clear. He couldn't see anyone in the stone corridor lighted by torches, so he closed behind him and walked towards the origin of the sounds he was hearing.

Continuing through the hallway, turning left and right, he started recognizing those confines. He had gone through there during his breakout. He was merely a few steps away from the jail.

He looked behind a corner, noticing two guards standing by the dungeon door. They were wielding muskets and also had swords sheathed behind their belts. It was an obstruction that could prove to be hard to overcome, but they didn't seem to be particularly focused on their surroundings.

In fact, they were actually talking with somebody inside the prison. The door opened swiftly afterwards, revealing a next group of guards. It appeared that they were changing posts.

Now was the perfect moment, he thought. All four had their backs turned against him. He rushed out of the corner, sprinting like mad. It was only ten yards of distance. He reached them and plunged a dagger in the neck of a nearest guard, pulling it out and kicking down another enemy at the same time.

A single second had passed. While the remaining two were becoming to realize what was going on due to the screaming and yelling, Worg got to them, cutting one's throat from behind and stabbing the other. Then, he finished the last soldier.

He dropped the dagger in favour of a sword. He took a fine blade from a fallen guard, observing and evaluating it with his eyes. Yes, he thought, that would do.

There wasn't a minute to linger. He went in and noticed a slumbering jailor sitting by the entrance. Keys were lying next to him on a small table. The Silverian snatched them and proceeded to unlock every cell.

Dozen by dozen, captives poured out, having been forced to share their confines with more than ten others. Zafario certainly knew how to get rid of uneasy people. And they surely were a numerous bunch.

"Run! Get out of this hole! Wreak havoc upon this place!" Worg yelled as he himself was already in the middle of doing so.

Joining a multitude of runaways, he dashed along the corridors of the castle. They were like an avalanche in those narrow hallways, like an unstoppable flood. No lone man had a chance against such an overwhelming army. The few who dared to stand against them were knocked to the ground and crushed.

However, Worg had to depart from the main wave soon. While the escapees headed for the armoury to arm themselves or to the courtyard to try to have their luck pushing outside, the Silverian needed to venture deeper in.

Although it seemed that the prisoners were cutting through the butter like a sharp knife, they managed only to get past the smallest of obstacles. Worg was aware that the insurrection would be quelled quickly once the garrison mobilized.

And so as a mob passed him by, he leant against the wall and searched for a special stone until he spotted it. He pressed it and in an instant, a bluish cavern lighted by glowing crystals revealed itself to him.

He delved inside, sealing the secret passage by pulling a lever on the wall. The din suddenly fell deaf. It was almost as if he had entered a completely different realm. It simply was too quiet.

He didn't linger on, however. His goal was clear and his resolve was unquestionable. He began navigating the eerie cave, ascending on winding pathways and ignoring the bizarre mushrooms growing in the damp place. As he was getting up, he started hearing sounds again. It must have been a lively conversation.

He prayed that William was correct. He prayed that the passageway really led to the throne room. It could have been a trap all along. It could have been a ruse. He felt very odd about this. Alas, there was no returning. He had to carry on.

"No, we don't have enough men to..." somebody spoke from beyond the cavern, making Worg believe he was close to the exit.

"To what?" a familiar voice responded. It was Zafario. "The siege of Witstarn was a success. There is no match against our weapons. With them, we need twenty times less soldiers. Besides, it's often the psychological effect that sends the enemies routing."

"I know, but we can't blindly expect that everything will turn in our favour. We have to anticipate trouble. Make sure we are prepared for anything. This blitz only ensures that our forces will be stretched thin."

"Not if we reach the capital of Skyzan."

"Dethroning the sovereign might not solve the problem. The people are stubborn. They would never accept your rule."

"Time heals and mends wounds. But who says I'm that greedy and stupid to take over so soon? No. The king there has a cousin. A friend of mine. A person who will gladly do my bidding. That would be the transition between the old and the new era. People will be subdued with subtle changes."

"Still, you have to take into account that our other neighbours are getting nervous. There's even an increased military activity along our northern borders. Although Nordarian diplomats denounce that they want to attack..."

"You know that we discussed this and my generals and I have already devised a plan. A clever trap."

"Oh yes... that one. Clever..."

The time of chatter was over. Worg finally reached the throne room, entering it with all parade like an enraged bear whilst the secret passage sealed itself behind him.

Zafario was indeed standing there, clothed in an extravagant white coat with black dots sitting on them. However, he wasn't alone. There was one person besides him. A posh-dressed individual with a rather confounded look on his face.

"You?" Zafario exclaimed in wonder whilst his friend wanted to run for his life out of fright. However, the sovereign gestured him to stay.

"In the flesh," Worg responded.

"I should have suspected you haven't died as my sources have claimed. Ever since you vanished. Only a capable and informed man could instigate a prison break. Most of such people are on my side though. But don't worry. My men are almost done with that little rebellion. Soon, it will be over and you with it."

"Your arrogance prevents you from seeing that this is your demise, Zafario!" Worg shouted wrathfully, his eyes burning with hate.

"Really? I think that your anger blinds you. It isn't me whose odds aren't particularly favourable."

"Don't even consider yelling for the guards."

"Don't worry," Zafario spoke mysteriously, walking around a group of chairs by the far end of the dining tale. "I'm sure they can hear us though. Don't fear. They are loyal. Very loyal. They aren't aware the situation isn't contained because I didn't call for help. Yet. You know, this doesn't have to result in bloodshed.

"A fine and powerful man like you would be a valuable asset in my army. That is my offer. I will pardon you for your crimes and forget that you ever set foot on our soil with mischievous intentions."

"I've been a servant of a tyrant once. I won't repeat the same mistake twice," Worg snapped.

"A vigilante, eh? Fighting for the greater good. To restore righteous order and all that nonsense. Figures. You turned against your master. Antiochus. What angered you so much about him? His strictness and cold behaviour? His brutal ways of torture? His fierce and uncompromising ways?

"It was you who rid us of the invasion, wasn't it? We owe you gratitude even though we were about two weeks away from prevailing anyway. I don't know how you managed to escape from the dungeon, but you proved to be a valuable asset. However, you are becoming a nuisance now. My offer still stands. I urge you to reconsider."

"Are you trying to insult me?!" Worg yelled, his exasperation propelling him forward by a few steps.

"Stay exactly where you are," Zafario commanded him calmly. "Or I will have to call for aid."

"You'd be dead before they reached this place."

"You would be surprised."

"I'm not joining your damned army. I didn't struggle to wind up working as a mercenary for you!"

"Then why did you come? Do tell, I'm curious to learn."

"You dare to mock me by ignorance? You really don't know?! Who killed Prince Tadeus, huh? Who staged it so that you could wage war against everything and everyone?! Don't think me stupid, I can connect the dots."

Despite the confrontation, Zafario was left unfazed. He didn't lift a single eyebrow. "I didn't kill him," he responded stoically. "Neither have my men. I have never issued that instruction."

"Don't lie to me. I've seen how you talked to that clown. Debated about killing him."

"If you've somehow witnessed it," he spoke completely untouched by the fact that Worg was aware, "you must have seen that I didn't utter a word about murdering him. No. My idea was to imprison him like you. In truth, we would have come for you both that night. And if the assassins weren't there, we would have succeeded."

"If you didn't order the kill, then who?"

"Ask your king, he is well travelled in the realms of treachery."

"He isn't my king!"

"He isn't? Why do you still serve him? Why do you aid him? You do what he wants. Now, you are here. Wishing to kill me. Like an unwitting puppet. That is exactly what he needs and you can't even open your eyes to realize it."

"Who killed the prince?!"

"Isn't it obvious? The plan is as plain as a day. Send an envoy to Amania. A very important one. Then kill him so that there was a reason to wage war before our weapons could be battle-ready. Our weapons that could give us an advantage. We didn't say we wanted to go to war with the Silverians. We didn't..."

"This is nonsense! The plan was to marry Elyanna with Antiochus so that he could extort information from her and enchant and foil your attempts at technological advance."

"So you truly were a spy and this righteous tomfoolery is just because of waking up from a dream, am I right?"

"No. I served the prince and his cause was noble. He believed that there was no evil intention behind this and so did I. If I had known the truth... I would never have allowed this to happen."

"Whatever. But be aware that your so called plan is laughable. Tell me, how would you enchant a blueprint? A paper? Or a weapon? You couldn't enchant all the weapons, could you? That would be stupid. If someone was capable of doing so, they wouldn't bother and curse all the men instead. No. Whatever you learned, it's a lie.

"He tried to trick you, don't you see? Why do you pest me? Why do you hate me? I am not responsible for your trouble. I can even help you. We could join arms. My offer still stands!"

"I told you that I would never join you," Worg yelled. He took the repeated efforts of Zafario as an insult. No more he would tolerate. He had to put an end to it straight away. No hesitation.

"Guards!" the ruler of Amania shouted upon realizing that the Silverian was preparing for an attack.

"Calling them will prove to be a costly mistake," he snarled before turning to the entrance opening, knowing that the incoming foe would be much faster with reaching him than he would with getting to Zafario.

Two soldiers marched inside, spotting their target. They were the king's elite guard. Their armour was the finest in the land. Their razor sharp blades unmatchable. The clash was inevitable.

While Zafario gleefully observed the situation as he believed the Silverian had no chance, Worg braced for the struggle, facing the two. They got to him fairly swiftly and the skirmish began. Their swords met, the Silverian pushed to the defence against two highly trained enemies at once.

He fought fiercely like a beast, but he was no match for the combined powers of the duo. Things seemed grim. He was cornered.

Yet suddenly, an event of salvation occurred. Three inmates rushed in, their eyes burning with hate. While Zafario was trying to seek shelter behind the throne, the intruders paced forth.

Worg was struggling. The blades were mercilessly lunging at him, taking every last tad of manoeuvring space the Silverian had. One even grazed him on the face. Yet Worg battled on. Deflecting strikes. But the final one was about to draw.

The shouting inmates reached the guards, forcing one of them to divert his attention and engage the rascals. It gave Worg much desired respite. A single man was easier to take on. The Silverian was invigorated with a surge of energy. Dodging every slash and swing, he was about to mount a counter-attack.

The guard was an arrogant and proud one, believing Worg to be merely a thug that required killing. That was a terrible mistake, however. The Silverian was resilient and his stamina wasn't dropping.

The same couldn't be said about his adversary, however. His swipes were slow and predictable. Worg just needed a moment, a small bit of space. And then he plunged the sword straight into the chest of his enemy, bypassing the armour and sinking into the heart.

The opponent fell to his knees as the Silverian planted a foot on his shoulder, pulling the weapon out. Meanwhile, the other guard was on the winning edge. Only one scared and wounded prisoner still stood and they were progressively drawing nearer to the entrance as the fugitive was attempting to retreat.

The guard was about to finish his rival, his sword hanging above the head of the runaway ominously. Mere seconds divided the escapee from death. Yet Worg jumped in and struck the royalist in the head, pressing upwards to free the blade afterwards. The soldier tumbled down dead.

Bleeding and severely injured, the prisoner didn't seem to be able to fight, let alone walk anymore. He collapsed to the ground, wheezing. The Silverian couldn't ease the pain or help him.

When the elite guard had been killed, Zafario had realized that the situation had been becoming grim. He had decided that it was either high time to flee or sneak upon Worg and backstab him.

He had ruled in favour of the former, but grabbed the sword of the fallen soldier just in case. He wanted to rush for the exit, yet Worg was already free and noticed Zafario was on the move.

The Silverian blocked him and Zafario comprehended that the only way out was through battle. It was the final stand.

"I told you it would cost you," Worg taunted his adversary, inducing overwhelming wrath in his mind.

Zafario charged forward, lunging at the Silverian, who blocked him and initiated a counter-attack. The two locked their blades, pushing against each other in order to break the struggle.

It was even. Seconds were flying away, prompting Zafario to withdraw his sword much to Worg's surprise. As the Silverian proceeded with his weapon, the Amanian swiftly dodged the plummeting steel. Quickly after that, Zafario was about to plunge the metal straight into his opponent, but Worg deflected it and threw a punch into his enemy's face.

It infuriated the Amanian, spurring him to dish out an attack after another and putting the Silverian on defence. A final wave almost knocked Worg to the ground. Yet Zafario's bout of rage wore out. His foe could begin his advance.

They were slowly approaching the dining table whilst the Silverian pressed on. He didn't want to give his adversary a bit of breathing space.

However, the Amanian was determined. He passed by a chair in retreat. Worg was about to swing his blade mightily. If he was successful, the battle would be over. Yet he wasn't. Zafario kicked the chair the Silverian's way with all the strength he had.

Worg teetered, but managed to stay on his feet. But his enemy was merciless. He used the indisposition in his favour. Lunging forward, he was about to finish the Silverian once and for all.

Worg blocked the attack at the very last second. Yet it was a desperate attempt that proved costly. It threw him off balance. The next strike followed. The sharp steel was getting so close. The Silverian did what was within his powers to avoid being sliced. The swords clashed again.

Knowing that he had the upper hand, Zafario needed to exploit the situation. Worg was only a step away from falling. Although he was capable of holding the weapon and reach any upper position with it, his legs were completely exposed. The Amanian kicked his foe in the shin.

Worg tumbled. Lying on the ground, he saw the glee that was taking over Zafario's face. Victory was almost within the Amanian's grasp.

"You should have joined me when you had the chance," he uttered as he was about to plunge the blade into the Silverian's heart.

There was no moment to answer. Worg had to avert the cold touch of death. Rolling away fast, he could hear the clangour of metal that hit the stone floor. Another strike came in afterwards, but the Silverian evaded it, granting himself some time to rise up.

"I would never do that!" he shouted as he darted forth, colliding his sword with the Amanian's.

However, Zafario was confident in his triumph and that reflected on his performance. He blocked every Worg's attempt to break him. Even added his own counter-attack and penetrated his adversary's cover, scratching his left arm.

The Silverian grunted and quickly jumped backwards, but Zafario caught up hastily, continuing in his relentless push. Within a while, Worg was standing with his back against the wall.

"If you give up, I might consider sparing your life!" the Amanian taunted his enemy while he thrust forward, hitting one of the tapestries as the Silverian dodged.

Suddenly, Zafario's lackey emerged out of his hideout, having been cowering in fear for the entire time. He was near Worg. Sneaking forth. The Silverian barely noticed the new antagonist, swiftly slicing him with his sword.

Zafario's blade was closing in mercilessly. Worg avoided it at the very last second. Yet the next lunge proved to be almost fatal. The Silverian couldn't deflect it fast enough and the Amanian's steel slid along his own, its momentum propelling it towards Worg's shoulder and piercing it.

The Silverian suppressed the urge to yell and retreated in order to get the cold metal out of his body. Although injured, he was angered by that. Like a bear, he swung his weapon Zafario's way, pushing him back.

The two clashed their swords again and again. It seemed to be a tie, but Zafario was planning a manoeuvre of his own. Just to wait for the perfect moment, he thought. Defend and be patient.

With a slash, Worg attempted to chop his adversary in half. The Amanian deflected it. Yet the Silverian was far from giving up. An overhead attack followed. That was Zafario's opportunity.

His left hand free, he grasped a dagger behind his belt. Briskly he unsheathed it and thrust forward. Worg noticed it at the last second, jumping back and dodging the assault. However, the Amanian was relentless, not ever considering stopping.

With each step he was drawing to the Silverian. Pressing him further. Threatening to corner him. Worg couldn't even counter-attack. He was almost out of options. Yet Zafario was still on the move.

The Silverian desperately tried to break free, but it was to no avail. It seemed that the Amanian had won. Just a single stride. Worg couldn't manoeuvre and his opponent was as swift as a wasp.

The hit was inevitable. The dagger was closing in without mercy, about to sink into Worg's chest. He attempted to push it away with his free hand, but he didn't manage to do so completely. It plunged into his belly.

He couldn't resist the urge to shout. The roar he let out was tremendous. But he wasn't dead yet. The Amanian wiggled with the weapon. He wanted to get it out and strike again. But Worg wouldn't go down.

His sword arm was able to attack and so he swung it forward, prompting the Amanian to withdraw. Although the Silverian was holding on, Zafario knew that it was only a matter of time until it was over. That is why he stepped up the effort.

He showered Worg with a bash after another, stretching him to his limits as his wounds were slowing him down. The Silverian was getting short of breath. Yet Zafario was still restless. Adding lunges ceaselessly. Swinging his blade back and forth. Worg barely dodged it. Teetering and nearly falling, the Silverian regained balance merely to have to deflect a strike.

A firm thrust came next, forcing Worg against the wall. It was the end. Zafario's finishing manoeuvre. A whirling movement, a tornado. Worg was too weak, Zafario thought. This would chop his head off.

The Amanian was almost facing his adversary, the sword cleaving swiftly through the air. The scruffy visage of Worg was almost within sight. The blade was almost touching his neck. Almost severing it from the body.

Yet it went wrong. Cold steel sank inside Zafario's chest.

In insurmountable pain, Zafario collapsed, his hands dropping his weapons afterwards. Worg pulled the sword out of his enemy, making him tumble down to the ground and gasp for air in his fleeting life. The Amanian even tried to say something, but it came out only as a wheeze.

Although Worg's injuries were hurting, they weren't fatal. He would recover. After so much struggling, he was finally awarded such a satisfactory view. Defeated by the Silverian, Zafario breathed out for the last time.

However, Worg couldn't have done it if it hadn't been for the Amanian's arrogant confidence in victory. The castle was certainly teeming with soldiers who could have rushed to their master's aid if he had called loudly enough for them.

Even though Worg remembered their previous exchange of words – specifically the fact that Zafario might not have been responsible for Tadeus' death – he didn't regret his actions. In the land where everyone was a sinister traitor, nobody was to be believed.

In truth, the Silverian somehow felt that he had executed the true instigator. The pieces of the puzzle fit. As Antiochus had said, if the Realm of Silver had wanted to take on Amania, there would have been no foreplay of intrigues.

It must have been somebody from inside Cassire Castle. Somebody who had the garrison under his watchful command. The equation simply pointed at Zafario no matter what. Especially after considering the timing of his arrival at the spire back when the prince had been murdered.

In a moment of silence, Worg took out the blue gem out of his pocket. The same gem that Tadeus had received from the mayor of the village they had protected. Shame, the Silverian thought again. Shame that it hadn't saved the prince.

At least the noble spirit had been avenged. He tossed the jewel by the corpse of Zafario. It was a gesture. A sign that in the end, Tadeus had won.

It was ironic that a quest for a princess' heart, a perfect textbook example of a fairy tale, turned out to be a perilous struggle of betrayal, ruse and treachery. But it was coming to a conclusion.

There was nothing more to be done. There surely were more conspiracies and fluctuations of power, yet that wasn't Worg's problem. Besides, there was a man who needed to be cast down. Antiochus. Although the Silverian had reconciled with his past, he was still honour-bound. His former homeland depended on him. He had to deliver the lost souls by making the dastardly sorcerer pay for his crimes.

And so he strode out. Using the secret route he had taken back with the bandits, he got outside. Now to traverse the world for the Realm of Silver, he quietly mentioned to himself. He would redeem his kin. Antiochus was next.

The figure walked towards the horizon as the sun began to set upon the valley encased by tall hills from both sides. And as minutes went by, the day shifted to night and the silhouette vanished.

32: Chapter 32

"Perfect, just perfect," King William laughed as he entered the throne room with two guards, noticing the carnage done.

"What are your orders, sire?"

"Clean this mess, throw the bodies out," the sovereign said as he snatched the crown lying on the ground.

His servants executed his wishes to the letter, disappearing shortly afterwards and leaving the monarch alone.

The chamber was very cosy, he thought as he placed the crown on his head and seated himself on the cushioning throne. He felt like he was in heaven, closing his eyes in a moment of dreaming.

Flickering lights surrounded him, dispelling the magic he was using all along, revealing none other than the jester. The fool who managed to fool the lords and usurp their positions. He was the true winner of the campaign, his plot finally coming to an end.

Various were his tools he had employed to ascend to his new spot, but he had to admit that the most useful one was Worg.

He merely pulled the strings. Play the weaker in the partnership with Zafario. Pretend to be a clown in front of everyone. Bribe guards. Befriend bandits. Instigate an assassination of a foreign prince. Appeal to Zafario's lust for power. Bring Amania into war. Sow chaos and cause unrest. And, of course, manipulate Worg to succeed where he could not.

Zafario had been right when he had said that he had never issued the command to murder Tadeus. It had been done on the jester's whim. It had been him who had navigated the Silverian by hate.

However, Worg was long since gone now and wasn't coming back. There was no way the Silverian could be told. The gamble was over and the jester had won on all accounts. The Kingdom of Amania was his.

He rested on the throne with glee, feeling invulnerable in his position. Though he couldn't deny that if Worg had learned the truth... He couldn't even finish the thought as he shuddered in a moment of fright.

However, he promptly realized how unbelievable it sounded. Would he ever find out? Absolutely not, the jester silently answered himself. It was unlikely. The game was certainly concluded there.