JACK ROSE: CERTIFIED NIGHTMARE HUNTER

 

“Battle not with monsters

Lest you become a monster

And if you gaze into the abyss

The abyss gazes into you”

- Friedrich Nietzsche

 

Part I: A Tale of Vengeance

Chapter 1

You know, I’ve often heard people say that chivalry is dead, to which I say, these people have obviously never met face to face with the infamous Jack Rose. I had never believed in heroes until he came along, and I most certainly do consider him a hero. Who am I to make such claims, you ask? Well, I am a monster – body and soul… or at least I thought I was. To put it simply, who I am isn’t important right now. You see, I come into this story later on.

This story is about Jack, and it begins in Italy, in the unsettling dark of night, in the streets of Rome. An eerie presence had befallen the area of late, and it was Jack’s job to find out why.

Jack was a tall man, slim and yet muscular under that that heavy coat of his. His hair spilled out under a wide-brimmed hat, making him near on invisible. His face – though not quite as dashing as mine – was sincere in its own odd way, his features hardened by grief and hardships; a nose crooked from being broken too many times; and eyes that glowed of amber, like fire and honey. Jack was the kind of man who never cared for conversation – he was a man of duty, if nothing else.

Slowly he walked through the dead of night, above him loomed some grand old church, the name of which I seem to have forgotten. As he listened carefully to the wails of distant mad men crying in the streets, his hand tensed over the hilt of Fonias Fotia. That’s right, upon his back he bore one of the Sacred Blades of the Archangel Michael – one of ten to have ever been made, and to never be made again. Never before had I laid my eyes upon such beauty… such elegance in the form of a thing forged to kill. The weapon stood five feet tall from pommel to point, and made of silver so fine you could see yourself in it. The grip was smooth creamy ivory laced with gold, the cross-guard reached out majestically, and the pommel, which bore a fine opal in its centre, surrounded by an intricate display of silver engravings, was marked with the symbol of Michael:

As the screaming enhanced, Jack hastened towards the church, confident now as to what he would find there. His confidence grew higher when a mass of bright flames erupted near the church’s bell tower, casting light onto the buildings below. Jack’s pace quickened to a run. The explosion had shaken the bell, and now it rang loudly in a slow reverberating song. Ding… Ding… Ding…

Flames in the sky, bells ringing, the moans of suffering men, chaos had quickly filled the night. It was here that Jack bumped into a familiar face; Valery, the demon hunter. Here was a young man who almost cared more for looks rather than kills, and so I guess it must have been tragic for him when a demon burned his pretty face and gouged his left eye out. I think an eye-patch looked good on him – at least people took him more seriously now. As for the scars, it was nothing a little makeup couldn’t handle. At least his hair was still fine, silky and blonde, as it was.

Their meeting was not accidental. One of them was supposed to be there and the other wasn’t. Jack was surprised, even though he had been expecting company. “Really?” he said, slightly raising an eyebrow. “They sent you?”

Valery squinted one eye – I couldn’t have said what he did with the other. “Yes,” he replied, “they sent me. Does it surprise you that the guild would send a demon hunter to hunt a demon?”

Jack pointed up to the top of the church, where another explosion had ruptured the peaceful night sky. “That is not a demon.”

Above the song of the crying men within, and the chant of the bell tower, they heard a distant cackle that was stricken with madness and evil.

“What would it be, then?” Valery had argued. “A Nightmare?”

Jack simply inclined his head, and held his gaze.

Valery persisted on being sceptical. “Here? In Rome? That hasn’t happened in a thousand years. And besides, all the signs point to a demon.”

“I don’t know,” Jack insisted. “The Nightmares are a creative bunch. Trust me, I’ve an eye for this sort of thing… it seems you’ve lost yours.”

Now, Jack was a man of wits just the same as he was a man of valour, and when I had first heard of that kind remark, oh my did I laugh!

“Very funny,” was Valery’s response, “but I’ll take solid proof over your word any day. Perhaps a wager will unsettle your confidence.”

“A gold piece, then?”

“You’re on.” And just like that the challenge was set.

Now, what you’d best understand before I continue with the story is that these people were far from ordinary. What a normal person would call hell, they call it work. Trust me, slaying something, for these guys, is as easy as sitting down in a chair.

So the two of them went up to the church, and as any gentlemen would, they knocked on the door. There was no reply, and Jack let out a moan. “How rude!” he remarked. “We know they’re home.”

Against their liking they had to intrude, and it was Valery who had the honour of kicking the door open. He gave it a solid kick, too, and it shuddered in response, but little did it budge. It seemed to have been barred. Jack’s lips grew into a smile as he drew his sword. He raised it slowly above his head and then brought down with all its divine power in a single precise stroke. The church door had been heaved in two, and reduced to nothing but splinters. Into the church they went.

As they stepped through the doors – the sound of splinters crushing under their feet – the workings of an atrocious scene unravelled itself before them. All of the candles within had been lit and were burning quietly. The pews had still been kept in order – although they were no less dusty – and upon them sat what appeared to be humans, but who could say when all you could see was the backs of their heads. They were chanting. A low murmur, it would seem, undecipherable. But the thing that was the head of the show in this little event was the creature that stood at the altar. A woman. She was small in stature and her expression seemed to have possessed no little amount of insanity. This was no fair lady they were facing – not even human. Her skin was squalid black, as if it had been dipped in tar, and yet it was smooth to touch. She donned a dark robe – black as night. Her short hair was dusty and uncared for, and yet there were shimmering diamonds falling from her ears, blood oozing from crimson lips, and eyes that burned as orange as the sun – eyes that glared right towards Jack and Valery.

“Who would dare enter my church unannounced?” she demanded.

Jack replied with a smile. “We have a few questions we would ask about your faith!”

She scowled at them. “I will have no one opposing that which I have built, especially not some peasants from the guild!”

“Peasants!” Jack said, loudly. “There’s no need for name calling!”

“Enough!” she screamed. “You’re not worth my time. My servants will dispatch of you quickly.”

With a wave of her wretched hand she gave the order to kill, and all the other creatures in the church rose in unison. The people who were sitting down in the pews weren’t quite people at all, they were something much more foul and grotesque. Their skin, green with rot, reeked of death and decay. Upon their faces were two dark pits where their eyes had once been, their noses were all but rotted off, and their teeth had grown to sharp fangs, dripping with drool. Their hands and feet had changed too, replaced with menacing claws… and yet they were still dressed in the clothes they died in. These were men long since dead who had been denied their eternal rest. They were ghouls, bound to serve forever under the nightmare whose eyes were of fire.

Jack looked directly at Valery. “I don’t recall demons ever possessing ghouls,” he claimed.

“Indeed,” Valery returned, and in doing so he flicked a shining gold coin across the air for Jack to catch. “Well, you are the certified nightmare hunter, have at it. I’ll keep the ghouls busy.”

As for the nightmare on stage, her expression shifted into something of sick disbelief as Jack walked down the aisle, slicing through the ghouls in his way as if they were butter. “A nightmare hunter?” she asked. “Truly? Oh how I’ve been dying to meet one of you.”

Her words put a smile on Jack’s face, and I don’t blame him either – it was a funny choice of words. But despite her apparent admiration for the man, she was no less afraid as she began to stumble away. She was all mixed messages; one moment she admired him, and the next she feared him… but I guess that was to be expected of a creature whose eyes literally glowed of madness.

Jack got so close to her that he could smell the disease within her soul, and with his sacred blade he would have ended it all then and there. It was her laugh that stayed him, a continuation of the creature’s savagely mad cackle. He couldn’t help but wonder, and in a great burst of light her body became fire and soared high into the upper levels of the church. Yeah, she was that type of nightmare.

If Jack could fly he certainly would, but he couldn’t, and with a subtle curse he turned around and made for the stairs. Now, Jack clearly wasn’t a stupid man, and as he began to climb he quickly suspected this she-nightmare to have set a trap. He climbed to the balcony overlooking the main hall, where Valery held onto two revolvers and was blasting away at the ghouls below, but alas, he had to climb higher. He went around on a velvet carpet and past statues of saints until he climbed a ladder that took him into the addict.

The addict, as you would expect of an addict, was not a very nice place to be, in fact, it even seemed cruel, in a way. The place was dusty and forgotten, full of shelves bearing old ornaments, piles of books and boxes of things that nobody wanted anymore. In such a small, tight space, the air was thick with death so long as the nightmare remained. Above all, the addict was dark, so that slithers of moonlight could creep in through the ceiling and cast themselves over the floor, the shelves, the books and the boxes. The nightmare’s fiery eyes appeared to float in mid air, until she approached, the light of the moon shifting over her.

She stood within arms reach of Jack, laughing as she spoke. “Aren’t you afraid?” she asked him.

To which Jack replied, “I’ve seen a lot of messed up stuff in this world, but none quite as pretty as you.”

“I’m flattered, Mr Nightmare Hunter. It’s not every day that a man sent to kill me has had the decency to treat me as he would his own kind.”

“Well you were human, once, and as it would seem, not so long ago. How long have you had it? Five? Ten years?”

“Nine,” she answered briefly, “but I warn you not to underestimate me because of my age, I am quite capable, as you’ve seen.”

“Oh quite sure, but I feel we’ve been talking too much. I’m afraid it’s time we got down to business.”

She stepped back, slowly, as if she were slivering away. “Of course, of course. I mustn’t keep you.”

Jack paused for a moment. “Before we do, perhaps you could light a candle or two?”

Arrogantly she did as he asked and the flames went up, casting light upon not only Jack, but more importantly, his sword. He held the weapon in front of him with the blade against the ground, ensuring that she would notice its mark. She did, and in doing so her body shrivelled up in fear.

“That blade!” she cried horrendously. “I know that blade! But that must mean that you’re… you’re Jack Rose!”

“The one and only,” he replied tactfully.

Like a cornered animal the nightmare, knowing now of the danger she was in, had no choice but to attack. All formalities had been forgotten. She began by casting her fire onto him, almost like a crazed dragon, but Jack was able to raise his sword and parry the flames – although the rim on his hat had smouldered a little. “Is that all?” he teased. “I thought you said not to underestimate you.”

She gave an ugly scowl. “I’ll make you eat those words,” she cursed, before becoming fire herself and swooping straight at Jack and his sword. He was too slow this time, and with a great and powerful whoosh she swept him off his feet and through the wall behind him. After a heavy crash and even more splinters, Jack found himself being carried at least a hundred and twenty feet above the ground… and she was taking him even higher. But the nightmare was weak, and she couldn’t retain her form for long. They collapsed – Jack fell down and tumbled across the roof of the church, and the nightmare not far from him. Neither of them were quite finished yet, and within seconds Jack was on him feet with his sword ready. Once again she rushed at him, screaming wildly as she did. Jack swung his great blade but she diverted at the last moment, and the tip only grazed her body, but it was enough to falter her balance. Jack turned around, caught her by the collar before she could escape, and then drove his silver blade deep into the nightmare’s stomach. Her orange eyes widened and she took a long breath of air… fresh blood trickling from her lips. Jack had slain the nightmare.

Despite all the glory that should come with an achievement such as this, however, Jack was rather discontent with this part of his job. You see, all nightmares were human once, and the power within Jack’s blade is such that it purges the disease from the human’s soul, but the human is killed in the process. This was happening right now, as Jack held the young woman in his arms, the woman he had killed, mourning. He watched as the fire was drained from her eyes, and as the colour returned to her skin. Once again she was human, and so incredibly beautiful she was. She was weeping – shimmering tears across tender cheeks. He laid her down gently, making the sign of the cross, and then her soul was gone.

“You’re free now,” Jack whispered. “Go, and rest under the arms of God.”

Within the interior of the church – when Jack returned – there were the bodies of dozens of slain ghouls scattered across the floor. Valery was seated upon the altar, trickled with sweat as he cleaned his guns with a piece of linen cloth. “That was quick,” he noted as Jack approached, “even for you.”

“I see you’ve made quite a mess,” Jack noted in returned, nudging one of the mangled ghouls with his boot.

Valery smiled and holstered his guns. “It couldn’t be helped, but the disposal team will be here soon.”
Then Jack let out a small chuckle. “I almost feel pity for them.”

2: Chapter 2

For Jack Rose, home was but a small, simple place known as Vatican City. Of course I’m not saying that he slept in Saint Peter’s Basilica – a man like him – that would be ludicrous. Jack lived underneath, hidden away among a guild of Christianity’s finest warriors – these men were researchers, investigators and slayers of all things deemed by God to be unholy. Many of them had been saints, too, although not the kind that were recognised by the world. Among them was Saint Adiega, thought to be the very first human to ever wield Fonias Fotia – the sword that Jack now carries – given to her by Alexander the Great so long ago. There was also Saint Akhenaton – if I recall correctly – who served Egypt by exercising a demon out of the pharaoh, and later by establishing one of the most prominent guilds on earth. Oh, and I can’t forget Saint Edmund, who had slain King John back in the thirteenth century – of course, King John had actually been a shapeshifter. And in the east, the famous Saint Oda, the Christian – he wielded the blade Kyuseishu, one of Gabriel’s swords.

Statues of these great saints lined the walls, all the way up to Saint Peter’s tomb: the centre of the guild. Even in death they stood great and strong… but enough history. Jack walked through the guild hall, surrounded by memories and stone, the other members saluting him. On his face was a smile telling of home, and a yearning for rest, but alas, when he entered his ‘office’ he found no such thing. Jack’s office was small, a desk and chair for working, and a cupboard for his weapons. The whole room carried the rich aroma of incense – most likely to keep him calm, and to help him forget certain things.

Jack found at his desk the young man Leon, who was Jack’s assistant, doctor, supplier and researcher – indeed a man of many talents. Leon was a small man with scrawny arms and legs, a shy pale face, and an awful stutter. I doubt he even remembered what the sun was like, although on the up side, it made him an excellent man for his work. He wasn’t shy around Jack though, never.

Jack entered the room, and Leon was sitting down, quietly reading the newspaper. He noticed Jack and looked up. “Oh, sir, you’re b-back,” he said, with his adorable little stutter – and do excuse my impersonation, anyway…

“I am,” Jack replied, “and you’re in my chair.”

Leon jumped as if he’d been startled. “Oh, I-I’m t-t-terribly sorry, sir.”

Leon moved out of the way and Jack sat down, resting his eyes, and saying, “I see the speech therapy’s going well.”

“I’ve been w-working m-m-most diligently, sir.”

“Well, if you want my opinion,” Jack insisted, “so long as you’re helpful to us, I don’t care if you can’t talk.”

“I-I’ll take that as a c-c-compliment, sir.”

“And I thought I told you to stop calling me ‘sir’.”

“I-it’s c-c-customary, sir.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack opened the paper and started to read. “Any news since I left?”

Leon stuttered, “the g-g-guild has stayed v-very much the same in the t-t-two weeks you’ve b-been gone.”

Jack lowered the paper. “Well, that’s just like them not to do anything drastic. How’s Rome looking?”

“Q-quiet,” said Leon, “on the m-m-most part, although the appearance of a nightmare so close t-to the Vatican has left some of the other m-members q-quite uncomfortable.”

“Why?” Jack asked. “I killed it, didn’t I?”
“They seem to think the n-n-nightmares are b-becoming more ruthless.”

“Whatever, anything else?”

Leon pointed a bony finger at the newspaper. “P-perhaps you ought t-to t-t-turn the p-page.”

Jack turned the page, and his eyes widened as he began to read aloud. “Infamous killer strikes again… fourth victim this year! Leon, is this real?”

“I-I’m afraid so,” Leon answered, “and they’re still using the p-picture from…”

“My time in the royal guard,” Jack finished. “Damn the cursed media, have they no heart?”

“Well they d-do think you a m-m-murderer…”

“Better yet, how did they know? We buried the body! There’s no proof!” Jack set the paper down, daring not to read any further.

“It w-would seem,” said Leon, “that you’ve gathered quite a following. They knew the g-g-girl was spending a g-great deal of time at the church, and they saw you there t-too, before she d-d-disappeared. I hear they were going to c-call you Jack the Ripper, but it seems some f-fellow in London has already t-taken the title.”

“The girl was dead,” Jack protested.

“But they d-don’t know that. They’re j-j-just frightened. They still think you’re responsible for killing the que…”

“I know what they think I did,” Jack interrupted, an irritated tone in his voice. “And it would do you well, Leon, not to remind me.”

Leon bowed his head. “As you w-wish, sir.”

To know that you were considered by many to be a serial killer was not an easy thing to handle, especially for a man with Jack’s history. Indeed, Jack was a good man, but when you’re told so many times that you reek of evil, it’s enough to dissolve the good away. It’s stressful, that’s what it was, and as Jack pressed his fingers over his closed eyes, he said, “I think it’s time I got out of Rome. I need a case, Leon, and a good one.” Jack was never a man to sit around for too long.

Leon began to speak, but he was unsure, and I think for good reason. “Well, uh, I wasn’t g-g-going to m-mention this until later, b-b-but, uh…”

Jack opened his eyes and sat up. “What is it?”

“Well, w-we may have a lead, sir. Reports from a f-fellow guild on a supposed nightmare s-sighting…”

“Is it her?” Jack asked eagerly. “Where?” he demanded.

“Venice, sir… b-b-but we c-c-can’t know for sure…”

Jack was already up. He put on his hat and strapped on his sword, and was making his way out the door.”

“But sir, shouldn’t you g-g-get some rest first?” Leon insisted.

To which Jack shouted from outside the door, “I’ll rest on the way!”

Within the hour Jack had left the Vatican behind him. He carried no possessions other than his blade and his clothes – as was typical of a nightmare hunter. He was awfully simple like that, his only friend was the night, his only music was the wind, his only lover was death. In his mind was an image, or a feeling, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was sweet, but it was sickly and cruel, a cold bliss achieved at the end of a sword. In his mind was a yearning for revenge.

Why, you ask? Well, I’ll explain all of the details a little later on, but as you might expect of a tale of vengeance, Jack lost someone he loved dearly, and I believe it tore something out of him that he’ll never get back.

As I said, I’ll explain the rest later, because right now I think it’s time I introduced you to someone. This happened right after Jack left the Vatican with the intent to leave Rome. The night didn’t seem the same and it stirred something in him – he became cautious, and for good reason too, because the man who approached him from the dark was the very definition of evil.

He seemed to appear like a ghost – although I can assure you he was nothing of the sort – in fact he was human, and, as far as I know, went by the name of Marek. He wore a thick red cloak that perfectly encapsulated the colour of fresh blood, which contrasted extravagantly with the placid whiteness of his face – although, in the dark his skin appeared grey. His jawline was sharp and he had a jagged nose that rested unevenly beneath a heavy brow. His lips were coloured darkly, near on black, and the lines on his face told tales of his age – I knew that he was old, but age affected men of his kind differently to others. Under his hood was long hair as black as coal, and in the centre of it all were his eyes, which were a piercing yellow of the sort provided by a lantern.

He spoke, calling out to Jack in a deep voice, “that’s quite a sword you have – strapped to your back.”

Jack stopped cautiously at the sight of him, his hands weightless in case he needed them in order to fight. “What interest have you in my sword?” he asked across the darkness.

Marek’s lips curled into a long grey smile. “Oh, I am merely an admirer of things of antiquity. I know who you are, Mr Rose – what you are. But please, I seek no quarrel, only conversation.”

Jack was silent for a moment, judging the nature of the person before him. In the world that we monsters know, Marek could have been any sort of unruly creature, and Jack was quick to realise this, and use it. “I am nothing,” Jack said. “You have me mistaken for somebody else.”

Marek tilted his head. “Oh, come now, there’s no need to be rude. I know a sword when I see one.”

To this Jack had no choice but to stop. He didn’t care for this man and he had little patience in light of recent news. “Are you human?” he asked, and his eyes flashed of amber.

“I am quite human indeed,” Marek replied.

To which Jack inquired, “And yet you’re not normal.”

“No more normal that you are,” he remarked.

“A wizard, then?”

Marek considered this for a moment, before saying, “no, although you’re getting close.”

Jack’s tone quickly became frustrated. “I haven’t the patience for guessing.”

“I understand you have an archive of creatures ingrained into your memory,” Marek began to say, “I am nothing of the sort. You do not know me.”

“Then what do you want?” Jack begged.

Marek smiled politely. “I’ve already said. I am an appreciator of antiquities, but I have come and I have seen, and I will soon be on my way. Perhaps one day fate will reunite us.”

Marek disappeared soon after that, and it was as if their little encounter had never happened – although it no doubt left Jack confused. Little did he know of the trap that Marek had placed, and the plan that had been set in motion. Of course, to Jack Rose this was only a distraction from his true goal, and as such the encounter was quickly dismissed.

3: Chapter 3

Jack arrived in Venice on a Sunday, and sat quietly at the back of St Mark’s Basilica as the priest began the mass. I can imagine Jack was quite out of place in appearance – he still wore his ragged old cloak, and he rested his wide-brimmed hat over his knees. The state of his dark hair probably wasn’t quite church material, nor were the scars that he bore, but who were they to refuse him.

The priest was an old man, his hair was thin and white, and yet his voice was loud and strong. A sharp aroma of incense filled the air as the father continued his praise, and Jack remained focused on his prayer for a time, but soon enough his eyes drifted. At a time such as this it was hard for Jack to keep his mind steady, you see there were so many thoughts, so many memories and desires, and I think it was the church that brought them back to life. The pillars, the windows and statues, they reminded Jack of an event that sent him down a path that could never again be untraveled.

The following events that I am going to tell you about occurred a long time ago, and in a very far away place – a kingdom that was as beautiful as the stars and as vibrant as the flowers in spring. At the very apex of this beautiful kingdom was a beautiful queen – the fairest lady perhaps to, in Jack’s eyes, ever live. This kingdom was Jack’s home, this queen was Jack’s queen, and to them he bore a duty as sacred as the most sacred of things. Jack’s life, as far as this story is concerned, began at a wedding.

There he was – a man unlike the one you’re currently acquainted with – Jack was a proud man, a good man, and a gentleman. His dark hair was shorter, curlier, less greasy and perfectly combed to suit the event of a wedding. His face was clean-shaven, with less scars, and a generous smile. He wore a white shirt with a high collar, a beige waistcoat over that, and finally a dark tailcoat. On his feet were high leather boots, and above his white pants, at his waist, hung an elegant sabre with a golden hilt. Needles to say, Jack looked quite dashing – though still not as dashing as I – and why shouldn’t he, after all, he was the captain of the royal guard.

The courtyard in which all the guests danced was arranged with marvellous luxury, from the vases of plants and flowers of purple, green and white, emitting a quiet storm of fragrant colours, to the intricate stone fountain that threw up a column of sparkling water, painted blue by the clear, warm sky. Near the staircase that led up to the balcony, dressed in ropes of flowers, was an orchestra of violins and cellos, constantly playing their sweet and lively tune. There was a long white table dressed in candles and platters of deserts, and in the centre stood the great wedding cake, which was white and garbed in pink – on the table it stood taller than most of the guests. In the centre of the courtyard the people danced elegantly, stepping and spinning as dresses twirled like young little birds taking flight – they swayed like water to the serenade of the orchestra. Among them, the bride and groom – friends of the queen – danced happily and smiled to each other, and Jack stood to the side watching everything as he ate his desert. Their names were Lady Tristine Benedict and Prince Adriane Hart.

For Jack the centre of it all was not the bride and groom, nor was it the flowers or the orchestra or the cake. For Jack it was, quite simply, Lady Linderly Lora, his dear queen, whom he was sworn to protect with his life. Lady Lora wore the most stunning purple dress that reminded Jack of the evening sky during summer, and it flowed around Lora like the water of a stream. The fabric over her chest was bedazzled with silver and glittered in the sun like the dust of a thousand diamonds. Upon the soft smooth skin of her feet were purple heels, and from her ears hung the brightest of diamonds. Her silky brunette hair was quite simple, in a beautiful way, and was presented in such a way that did not hinder the beauty of her dress. Her cheeks were flushed; her diamond hazel eyes drank in happiness and filled all of those around her with pure joy, particularly Jack. Indeed, to that man, Lady Lora emanated perfection.

When Lora noticed Jack’s gaze her sweet face sweetened, and she made her way over to him as the sound of the orchestra died down for but a few seconds and they turned their sheet music, beginning the next song. “May I have this dance, Mr Rose?” she asked, extending her hand to him.

Jack gently took her hand in his own, and replied, “it’d be an honour, my lady.”

He led her onto the dance floor and placed his right hand on her waist, which was smooth and warm, and coated in purple. Slowly they began to dance, and Jack almost fell into the colour of her eyes. He smiled, “I don’t think Lady Benedict could have asked for a better wedding.” He glanced over to the bride in her immaculate white dress, chatting away with her new friends.

Lady Lora returned his expression as she spun around with the music. “Yes, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so lively, but no doubt her father is most pleased of all.”

Lady Benedict’s father was the large grey-haired man speaking with King Gerald, Prince Adrian’s father.

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” the queen continued, “ever since my husband – ever since James’ death, there’s been an awful lot of strain on the kingdom, hopefully soon she will see some peace.”

Lora spun again and leaned back in Jack’s arms. “I’ll do my best to see that she does,” he added with a grin.

Suddenly her eyes posed a question. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Jack, you’ve always been better at reading people than I. Do you believe that King Gerald’s intentions are true? Are we really going to have peace?”

“Concerning the wedding,” Jack said, “ Gerald has nothing to gain from causing a row here, and besides, my men are all over the palace. You’re quite safe, my lady.”

Although Jack had always been a very cautious man, even before he became a Nightmare Hunter, it was in his blood. On this day his eyes constantly followed every unfamiliar face – that is, when they weren’t drifting towards Lady Lora.

“It’s not entirely myself that I’m concerned about, it’s everyone else.” Lora shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of a thought. “I must apologise, my mind seems to be in a constant state of worry.”

“Not at all,” Jack replied, kindly. “You’re only overthinking it, my lady, as you see, your dancing is as beautiful as ever.”

A quipping smile touched her lips. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same of you, Jack, your dancing has always been most elegant, and yet you’ve missed a few steps already.”

Jack raised his eyes and spun her again. “It seems I’m out of practise.”

“I should have to change that,” said Lora. “I know how you like to dance, be it with a sword or a lady.”

“You know me too well, my lady.” And it was here that Jack’s eyes caught onto something… peculiar. There was a man alone, his eyes were subtle, and yet they seemed fixed on the bride. Jack didn’t like it one bit.

“My lady,” Jack said, and he turned so that Lora was facing the man, “do you see the man standing alone by the arch, clean shaven, receding hairline?”

It took the queen but a moment to spot the man who Jack had described. “I do,” she answered briefly. “What of him?”

Jack spoke slowly and carefully, “I don’t suppose you know his name?”

“I don’t. He’s not of our court, so he must belong to Gerald.”

Jack’s jaw tightened slightly. “I was afraid so,” he said.

The mysterious man stood up, began to walk down the isle, and Jack’s body stiffened.

“Is he a problem?” Lora had asked, a new sense of concern about her features.

Their bodies stopped swaying to the sound of the orchestra, and yet Jack still held onto her. “Not as of yet. I’d like you to go and warn the guards, but tell no one else, it’d be a shame to ruin such a wonderful wedding on account of a false alarm. Have them summon Lady Benedict to you immediately. I want her away from that man.”

And so Jack broke away from Lady Linderly Lora. She went off and whispered something in a guard’s ear, and Jack went to confront this unforseen enemy. Within moments Lady Benedict, who had been standing with her husband in front of the grand wedding cake, had to leave for a few moments. And yet this man persisted. Jack had to wonder, who is he? What is he planning? Perhaps it was no one? But who am I kidding, it was someone, and it would take Jack quite some time to figure out who.

Lady Benedict was gone now and yet this man continued, and Jack’s blood became cold with fear. He’s not after Benedict. He’s after the prince!

It only took a few seconds. The man whipped a pistol out from his jacket, and with an outburst of screams and a terrible crash he shot the groom point blank in the heart. Prince Adriane collapsed backwards, blood seeping though his white shirt, until he tumble into the wedding cake and it came down on top of him.

Jack charged the shooter, tackling him to the ground and pulling away his gun, but the damage had been dealt. The prince was dead, and the kingdom would face serious repercussions as a result. Jack had failed.

A group of Jack’s men dragged the assassin away – kicking and screaming – as a crowd quickly formed around the prince’s body. The poor soul… his corpse had been covered in broken up pieces of cake, what a terrible way to die! The orchestra had fallen silent and was replaced the panicked voices of the guests, many of whom were quickly the fleeing the area.

It was King Gerald who sounded the worst. He broke the crowd so that he could see his dead son. Eyes full of tears and a voice full of anguish, he cried out, “how did this happen?”

All the voices stopped at once and suddenly death filled the air. Lady Linderly Lora came out with Lady Benedict by her side, both their faces were coloured snow with shock. Lora would have blamed herself if Jack hadn’t stepped in. He came forward, kneeling before his neighbouring King. “It was I, sire. I had informed my guards of the assailant as soon as I saw him, but I’m afraid I was too late.”

The king’s face grew as red as an over ripened tomato. “You’re afraid?” he snapped. “My son is dead because of you!”

“Please!” said Linderly Lora firmly. “My captain did all he could.”

The king’s head snapped onto her. “I won’t hear it!” his voice was filled with rage. “You arrogant child!” With that the young queen was taken aback. “My people will return immediately,” the king continued. “There are many things to be discussed, and you have many things to answer for, young queen.”

The prince’s body was wrapped in a sheet and placed on a stretcher, and with that King Gerald and his men left immediately. Much of Lora’s court had of departed as well – there were many things that needed to be sorted out, and quickly. As for Jack, he remained where he was, kneeling before nobody, stricken with guilt. Lady Lora placed a warming hand on his shoulder, and yet he didn’t seem to feel it. On his mind was but one thought: what on earth have I done?

4: Chapter 4

Lord Harold Benedict was present at the council. His face was as solid as stone and tense with stress, with a jawline speckled with grey stubble. He wore a silken tunic of darkened red, which was a poor match against his fading blue eyes.

Beside Lord Benedict stood Governor John Ramey, quite a tall man with pale skin and pale eyes, and sideburns that stretched an inch past his ears. He wore black, mostly, and a green waistcoat that was hard to not notice. Now, Mr Ramey took up a position as the queen’s advisor after her husband, King James Lora II, was poisoned by an unknown assassin. For almost a year he had practically been running the Kingdom, because, well you see, Lady Lora may have been loved by her people, however she was yet to find the courage to lead them properly. By law, however, she was still in charge. But despite everything that Ramey had done for the Kingdom, Jack never liked him. The captain of the guard found that Ramey’s methods were unfair and manipulative, dishonest, in a sense.

Of course, Jack was present at the council as well. He wore a vest of blue and gold over a pale shirt, and his sword hand rested heavily over the hilt of his sabre. His expression was quite stern, almost distant, but as you can imagine, he had a lot on his mind.

Near to him stood dear Lady Lora, and her eyes were particularly white on this day. Many of the other council members could see the stress in her features. In a silken red dress embroidered with gold flowers the young queen stood tall and straight, and as beautiful as ever, but in truth she was slouching and tired. Around her stood four men dressed in colours similar to Jack’s, two of them armed with pikes and the other two with swords. Jack was quick to ensure after the tragic wedding that Lora’s guard was doubled. I guess he feared that death was in the air, and he wasn’t quite wrong.

The rest of the council consisted of other, older men, of less importance to the story. There were fifteen of them in total, including the four I’d mentioned, and they all stood around a large wooden table. The council had already commenced. The topic? War, or rather, the preventing of war.

“The situation, it seems, has become dire,” exclaimed Governor Ramey.

“Dire?” Lord Benedict remarked, in a throaty voice. “That’s a light way of putting it. Our king is dead, and our Kingdom is on the brink of war.”

I suppose I had best fill you in on a few details regarding the situation of Queen Lora’s kingdom so far. Lora’s husband, the former king James Lora II, was poisoned by a mysterious assassin – a man who, after killing the king, immediately tasted his own venom, so to speak. Who he was and who had sent him remained unknown. But, at the time that king James was killed there were, coincidently, negotiations taking place between Lora’s kingdom and that of King Gerald Hart – their neighbour. King Gerald was much older than James, and a great deal more powerful. As it happened, people from all over Lora’s kingdom began pointing fingers. Needless to say, Gerald was greatly offended, and yet business went on when Linderly Lora stepped up and took her husband’s place. Shortly after, a wedding was arranged – the king’s son was to marry Lady Tristine Benedict. All was going well, until the wedding actually happened, and, well, you saw the rest…

“Please, Lord Benedict,” said the queen, “nothing has been spoken of war.”

The lord relaxed. “That may be so, my queen, but perhaps now is the time to start.”

“But only as a last resort,” added another council member.

Jack remained quiet, although he knew what needed to be said. In events such as this, it was not his place to talk unless it was asked of him.

“Yes,” the queen finished. “We are not yet beyond solving this problem properly, and I intend to do so properly.”

“And yet Gerald sits in his throne room preparing his generals for war,” rebutted Lord Benedict. “If you truly wish to rule this kingdom, my queen, then I suggest you stop hiding from what you fear.” Lora stepped back as if she’d been struck, and yet Benedict continued. “Our situation is obvious, isn’t it? Gerald knows we suspected him of our king’s death, we had every reason to seek revenge, and then his own son is assassinated in our kingdom…”

“Thank you, Lord Benedict,” the queen interrupted. “I’m not blind. I know where we stand with Gerald’s kingdom, however unlike you I’m trying to resolve the matter, not make it worse.”

It was here that Jack began to realise that Lora was finding her courage to lead… and she was doing a good job of it, despite what everyone else thought.

“This entire conflict has been born out of misunderstandings,” she continued. “The moment one of us raises a sword will be the end of all hopes towards peace, but as I said, the matter can still be resolved.”

“And how to you propose we proceed?” asked a wrinkly on man with a monocle.

Lora gestured towards Jack. “My captain was the one who apprehended Prince Adrian’s assassin. Mr Rose, I give you leave to speak. Tell them what you know.”

Jack stepped forward and he could feel each of their eyes falling over him. He cleared his throat. “I am yet to identify the prince’s assassin, however I do know that whoever he is, he’s not a professional. As of yet, he hasn’t spoken a single word to anyone, despite the encouragement of my interrogators. None of the guests from the wedding said that they recognised him, nor have any of my men. Despite all of this, I believe that this man is the key to saving our kingdom from war.” He scanned everyone’s faces and raised his head a little higher. He watched every single one of them carefully. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he pronounced, “there is a third party involved here, someone who aims to create political unrest between Lora and Hart… as for why, I can’t yet say.”

The room was suddenly filled with loud murmurs. The councilmen each looked at each other to say what they would, and the queen had to stand forward and raise her hand to silence them. When they stopped, one of the men called out. “What proof do you have?”
Another one spoke out towards the first. “What are you saying? We have the assassin.”

“Perhaps,” the first said again, “but it doesn’t prove anything.”

Jack spoke, facing the second speaker. “Your friend is right, the word of an assassin would resolve nothing. Even if he admitted to being sent by a third party, I don’t think Gerald would believe him. As far as he knows, the assassin is ours, and just as well, you’d be surprised by what a man can say when his arm is twisted.”

“Then why keep him?” proposed a small, fat man. “Why don’t we string him up in the gallows for all to see, as a sign of good will to King Gerald.”
“No,” said Jack, “that’s the last thing we should do. If we want to resolve this as the queen wishes, then we must find the source. Find whoever is behind these killings and bring them to justice!”

“If what you’re saying is true, how will we find these men – given that it is even more than one man?”

Jack answered swiftly. “My captive will lead us to them.”

“And yet you told us yourself that this man remains silent, and will not speak.”

“All men break, given time.”

“But we do not have time! War is a hasty matter! King Gerald won’t wait forever.”

“Then stall him!” Jack’s voice was growing tense. “Perhaps if we present him with what we suspect, he’ll give us time to provide evidence, hell, he might even help us.” There was doubt in their faces. “Gerald is a wise king, he’ll do everything he can to avoid a war.”

“What if you’re wrong?” said Lord Benedict.

Jack hesitated for but a moment. He could now feel the weight of their eyes. “If I’m wrong then we’re back to square one, in which case, we go to war anyway.”

The council began to mumble and chatter amongst itself again, and Jack found himself taking deep breaths, until Lord Benedict silenced everyone. “My queen,” he said, “do you support this?”

Linderly nodded her head. “I do,” she answered.

Everyone else nodded in agreement. “Then it shall be so.” Benedict finished, but then turned towards Jack. “Just keep in mind, Mr Rose, that King Gerald won’t wait around forever, and neither should we.”

Shortly afterwards the council ended, and Jack found himself with a new task… and yet he was not easily going to forget the one most important to him. It was close to noon when Jack happened upon Lady Lora approaching the stables. She still wore her red dress from earlier, although she had let her hair flow down, and to Jack’s alarm, she was alone.

“My lady?” he asked, “where are your guards?”

When she noticed him she smiled and said, “I dismissed them.”

He took a step closer to her. “I must insist, it’s too dangerous for you to – are you going riding, my lady?”

Lora ignored the question. “I had the stable boys prepare your horse. If it is indeed too dangerous for me to be alone, then I suggest you come with me.”

The hint of a smile touched his face, and he went and mounted his horse – a large brown stallion. The queen was beautiful upon her own white steed, although she was not properly dressed for riding – she had to slightly pull her dress up in order to mount the horse, which made riding more comfortable, but not as noble. She didn’t seem to care. Side by side, her and Jack trotted through the city, the sound of hooves clacking against stone, the rabbles and gasps of the people who parted before them, and of course, the castle looming high and mighty at their backs. When they reached the large wooden gate at the end of the city, Jack called out to the people by her side. “Soldier!”

There were two men having a game of dice, sitting by a large wooden lever. When they noticed Jack and Lora, they scrabbled to their feet, knocking one of the die onto the ground – they seemed confused. “My lord?” one of them asked, posing the question of their business outside the city.

Jack ignored it. “Open the gates.”

And of course, they wouldn’t deny him. “Aye, sir!” They began to pull on the lever, and the gates began to grind open.

Beyond the city was a field of grass where the trees had been cleared of centuries ago. For queen Lora, everything was better out here. The air was fresher, the sky was bluer, and life was nothing more than her and her horse. “It feels like forever since I last rode a horse,” she said, and her horse began to speed up.

“At least forever ago you were properly dressed,” Jack remarked. “Truly, that dress can’t be confortable.”

Lora glanced down and saw that the red fabric was slowly beginning to tear. “It isn’t, and yet somehow I can still ride better than you.”

Jack threw out a laugh – it was pleasant and challenging. “I’m the captain of the royal guard. Sword fighting may be my forte but I can still ride.”

Lora sensed the challenge. She leaned towards him. “So show me, I pray you haven’t forgotten, being cramped up in the city and all.”

“A race, then?” Jack proposed.

“Exactly,” said the queen. “Do you recall the lake where we used to play?”

Jack remembered it well. He had spent all of his free time there. “How can I forget?”

“Good, then I’ll see you there,” Lora laughed, before speeding off into the forest ahead.

Jack flicked the stirrups and followed her as she disappeared into the sea of endless green. He leaned forward, the wind blowing through his hair, until he passed through the wall of trees and emerged blissfully into another world. It was one he hadn’t visited for quite some time, the beautiful green… the outside. The path to his sanctuary, or rather, what was once his sanctuary. He could feel it immediately, the musky scent of the forest, the leaves, and the sweet flowers. The trees danced around him and the leaves frolicked across his path, and followed him and cheered as his horse dashed past. The sun reached through the canopy and rested gently upon the open grass and colourful flowerbeds surrounded by trees.

In front of him, Lady Lora’s loose hair and crimson dress jumped frantically with each stride, until she suddenly lost her pace and Jack loomed past her. He glanced back and saw that she was smiling, and he was winning. He pressed on, deeper and deeper into the green, as focused as ever, even when leaves smacked against him and sticks cut his cheeks. By now he wanted to see it, you understand, in fact, he wanted it more than anything in the world.

And soon, he was to have it. His horse came to a stop on a soft bed of grass, and the sight before him filled his heart with memories – such beauty, such grace… how he could ever forget it. There was a lake of the purest water, shimmering with each breath of wind as if it were filled with tears of glass. In its centre was a grand willow tree, ancient and majestic, swaying peacefully over the clear water with the wind. It was watching him, Jack knew, as it had been ever since he was a boy. He loved that willow tree.

Jack swung down from his horse feeling happy, and glanced back down the path he had come, expecting to find Lady Lora… only she wasn’t there. His blood quickly filled with panic, anything could have happened to her! She wasn’t safe!

He ran a few meters back down the path, shouting as he went. “My lady? Linderly? Where are you? My lady?” He spun around, twice, and then returned to his horse, collecting his sword from the saddle. “I swear if anything happens to her,” he muttered under his breath, “I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Nor should you,” the lady called out, as she emerged from behind a tree, on the edge of the lake. The bottom of her dress was sodden with water. “The famous Jack Rose, outraced by a woman. I should have to tell your men about this.” A victorious grin was plastered upon her splendid face.

Jack was, if anything, relieved to see her well. “You had me worried.”

The queen shrugged. “I thought I might, but it was worth the look on your face…” She broke off and her eyes veered over the lake, her soul encapsulated under the great willow tree. “Look, Jack, it’s as beautiful as ever, isn’t it?”

“That it is,” he replied slowly.

“And just look at us,” she continued. “We left it behind, we grew up… I married James and you became my captain, so much has changed since then and yet this place, it hasn’t aged a day.”

“Well I wouldn’t say all of it is true,” said Jack. “Times have changed, yes, but we’ve all stayed the same. You are very much the same girl I knew fifteen years ago, only wiser and stronger.”

Linderly quietly sat down on the soft grass, leaned back on her arms, and stared over the shimmering lake. Jack sat beside her, as he had done when they were little, and they didn’t talk for a while, they just watched the branches of the huge willow tree sway – back and forth, back and forth.

That is, until Linderly spoke, in a wonderfully soft voice. “Jack,” she began, “can I ask you something?”
He turned to face her. “Anything,” he replied.

Lora’s eyes still grazed over the lake. “This third party you spoke of during the council today, you think it’s one of us, don’t you?”

Jack hesitated. “Why do you ask that?”

“I know you well, Jack,” she said with a brisk smile. “When you proposed that there might have been a third party, your eyes were like a hawks, you were watching to see if anyone would react suspiciously. Can I ask… who were you looking for? Speak truly.”

Jack took a deep breath. “As you wish, my lady. I was looking to see any signs of suspicion from John Ramey.”

“Ramey?” Lora repeated him. “Why, we’ve known him for years, Jack. He’s one of my most trusted advisors.”

“I understand, my lady, and yet I’ve never liked him…” Jack paused for but a moment. “Think nothing of it, it’s just my own feelings…”

“No,” Lora stood up and faced him. “You may be a suspicious man, but you’re never wrong. I trust your judgement more than anyone else’s.”

Jack took her hand as she sat back down again. “Thank you, my lady.”

“You know, there was a time when you used to just call me Linderly.”

“Sorry, force of habit, I guess.”

Lora sat and leaned back again with a sigh, and there was something about her at that moment that Jack found so incredibly stunning. “It isn’t your fault, everything’s gotten so complicated… the assassins, this dispute with King Gerald, and now our own government is against us. Everything was easier when we were kids – just the three of us. Do you remember? We spent hours by this lake… we’d ride the horses, and go swimming, and I used to pick flowers, and you and James used to practice sword fighting.”

“That’s right,” said Jack. “They never taught him how to fight properly – said that that’s why he had soldiers, and why he had me.”

“And you never refused to teach him, in fact, I think you were the only man alive who ever had the guts to bruise a prince.”

“Yeah, I told my father that he fell from his horse, and I still got scolded for it. James was good at it, though, he was made to be a fighter. I’ve seen a lot of people wield a sword in the past, but I’ll never forget how he did it.”

“You used to go hunting as well. Remember when James showed me that poor little squirrel you shot with an arrow, and I screamed with fright.”

Jack laughed. “I remember…” His voice faded off with the wind, followed by a short silence.

And then Lora said, “you saved my life here once, I’ll never forget that. We made that stupid little raft and I decided to take it out in the lake while I still wore my dress, I was a poor swimmer, too, still am. The raft fell to little pieces, just out of nowhere, and the next thing I knew I was in the water being pulled down by the weight of my dress. You and James were off hunting your squirrels when you heard me scream, remember? And then you came and dived into the water without a second thought and pulled me to land.”

“I was sworn to protect you,” Jack explained, “with every breath and every moment.”

Linderly chuckled – she seemed to find it funny. “That’s right, the vows. You know, I’ve often wondered if you took on that promise for your kingdom, or for yourself.”

“Well surely it was both,” he jested. “I took them for you.”

Lora stared at him for a moment, smiling. “And you served them to the letter.”

Another silence, the wind picked up again and the trees rustled around them, and still was world was filled with pure serenity.

“Jack?” she asked. “Was it easy teaching James how to fight?”

“Why do you ask?”

She fiddled with her hands as she spoke. “It’s just that, my entire life I’ve had to depend on other people keeping me safe… I ask that, no, I command – you cannot refuse – I command that you teach me how to fight with a sword… but secretly, the other’s would never approve of this.”

“This is no simple thing,” Jack replied. “I couldn’t guarantee that you won’t get hurt, or…”

“My life is in danger every day. I’ve seen you train the younger soldiers – you’re good at it. We can come here every day, and if people start to ask questions we will say that we’re just riding in the forest.”

Jack considered this for a long time… a very long time, actually. “I would never refuse you,” he finally answered. “Very well, I’ll do as you ask.” He stood up, still unsure, and yet decided.

Lora followed him. “There is one more thing, Jack. I want to remember you as the person you were when we were little. I know you have a duty towards me – courtesies you need to uphold. But right now I don’t just need protection, I need a friend. Promise me, Jack, that you’ll never forget who you are. I want to hear you say it.”

He looked into her eyes, once again almost falling into them, and then he said, “I promise you, Linderly, never will I forget.”

5: Chapter 5

For weeks Prince Adrian’s assassin was on the tips of everyone’s tongues. Some people claimed that he was simply a murderer, while others believed that Lora’s council sent him (an idea that Jack was yet to investigate), and some even claimed that it was King Gerald who had his own son murdered. Whatever the opinion, everyone agreed that this infamous assassin was someone to be feared – they seemed to have forgotten that he was in custody. Around the city, Jack had spotted posters and propaganda portraying the assassin as a lean masked man holding a knife, and leaping across a rooftop. They had made him out to be some kind of super-villain from an epic-fiction story. But Jack knew the truth of it. The man seated before him, handcuffed to a metal chair, was not in the slightest way intimidating, nor was he talented. It did not take a lot of skill to fire a pistol point blank upon an un-expecting prince (although it must have taken courage, mind you).

Having been locked in a cell for a few weeks made the poor man look like an old beggar. He wore ragged grey cloths covered in dust and blood, the bold spot on the centre of his head was now home to a massive scab (which he acquired when he fell and hit his head against the iron bars of his cell), and a scruffy beard had found its way upon his face. The man was short, with a big nose and big red lips, and dreary eyes. His muscle weren’t at all toned, and he lacked the stance of a proper fighter. Jack quickly realised that they were all wrong about this man – he wasn’t an assassin at all.

In time Jack had ‘convinced’ the man to speak – although he was still reluctant to say anything. Jack did learn one thing; the name of the man was Reginald Carter.

Tensions were fast rising in the kingdom and Jack was fast running out of time. He needed a confession and he needed it now. So he sat down with dear old Reginald Carter, they shared a table in the barracks, and Reginald was no longer in chains.

“Tell me, Reginald, why did you kill the prince? Why did you really do it?”

Dear old Reginald remained silent.

“You didn’t do it for money, that much is certain. You walked into that wedding knowing that you were never coming out again. We could have killed you, so we know that you value this reason more than your own life. You don’t look like a killer… can you be bought? Our kingdom has money. All you have to do is give me a name and you can have as much as you like…”

At last the man opened his mouth. “You’ll never get to him,” he said.

“Him?” Jack asked. “You were assigned by a single man?” Jack saw it in the poor man’s eyes – he was starting to break down.

“I can not tell you,” explained the man.

“Can not? It’s not that you won’t…” Jack wondered. “It is that you can’t. Did you kill the prince by choice? Are you afraid of this person?” The twitch upon Reginald’s plump lips told Jack that it was so. “What has he done to you? He has some kind of leverage, doesn’t he?”

Poor Reginald broke down into a series of long sobs – tears falling down his pink cheeks. “Please,” he begged, “they have my son. My only son!”

And so Jack had his answer. They kidnapped the poor man’s son, and threatened to kill the boy if he didn’t do what he was told.

Jack had to be careful now – the situation was as delicate as a flower, and one wrong move would see her petals flying off with the wind.

“Who took your son?” Jack demanded.

“I can’t tell you,” the man replied, sobbing. “If I tell you they’ll kill him.”

“I can protect him from them,” Jack proposed.

Reginald took a deep breath. “No,” he said, “not from them. They told me… he told me… if Jack Rose came after him, my son would die, and if you tried to save my son, they’d kill him right away.”

Jack was patient. “I understand how you must feel, and I do not want to put your son’s life in jeopardy, but our kingdom is in danger and I need to protect it at any cost. I’m sorry, but I need you to look into my eyes.”

Jack leaned forward and watched Reginald’s face carefully – his eyes were a murky brown, and they glistened from his tears.

“The man who sent you to kill the prince – is his name John Ramey?”

The truth was there – he saw it in an instant. Jack was right about John Ramey, and now it was time to act, but he had to be careful… very careful.

It was midday again when Jack met up with Lora at the palace stables. She was dressed more appropriately now – as she had been for each of her training sessions during the past few weeks. She wore high leather boots, a pair of breeches, a pale long-sleeved shirt and a brown vest. Her two young guards stood near her, wearing their expressionless faces, and when Jack arrived he had them dismissed. He then kissed Lora’s hand, smiling “my lady,” before mounting his horse and riding with her out of the city.

They rode more gracefully now, not bothering to race their horses. Jack had a lot on his mind, and there was much that he needed to discuss with his queen. Lady Lora was jollier on this day. Jack could see how real her smile was, even though the joy came from her avoiding her duty to the council. She didn’t like them, didn’t enjoy their company, and she could never look at John Ramey in the same way as she used to. For Lora, on the outside things were much nicer – simply her and Jack, and the horses and the forest, and the lake under the willow tree.

They found their spot where the grass was pressed down due to their stepping and shuffling during each sparring session. From his saddle Jack collected a dulled sword and a pair of padded gloves for Linderly – you see, Jack was good enough that he could fight without hurting his opponent, but it was difficult to avoid hitting her hands.

They started immediately. Lora was keen to express her new talents, and Jack was delighted to let her. She had improved greatly since her training began, even better than some of Jack students from the guard.

“You’re getting better,” Jack noted, as he parried her sword.

Lora avoided his counter attack and smiled. “Thank you. I’ve a lot of energy today that I need to get rid of. I swear the damn council is driving me mad!”

“Did something happen?” he asked, swinging his sword at her side.

“The pleas for the assassin’s execution will soon be answered. They claimed that if he knew anything he would have said it by now, of course it was Ramey who encouraged them. I can’t believe he’s doing this.”

“Actually, now you can. I need you to promise me you’ll keep this quiet. Our assassin spoke, and it turns out that my suspicions about Ramey were correct.”

They stopped for a moment in order to rest, and Lora said, “So it’s true then. Ramey has betrayed us. Well, as sad as it is, this is very good news, Jack. You can present this to the council, or even to King Gerald…”

Jack shook his head. “I’m afraid it won’t be that easy. Lora, they have his son. If we make a move now then the boy dies.”

In her shock, Lora’s eyes bloomed as wide as flowers. “Then we get the help of only a few council members – the ones we trust…”

“We don’t know how far Ramey’s influence has spread. He’s smart. We can’t underestimate him.”

“Then who can we trust?” Lora pleaded.

“No one,” Jack replied in a solemn voice. “There is only us, and perhaps a few members of the royal guard… those without families who are loyal to me.”

Lora took a long stride forward and struck at Jack with her sword. “Are you asking me to put my life in your hands?”

Jack quickly stepped backwards and deflected her. “I think after all these years I’ve done a pretty good job of it.”

She continued to attack, and Jack had to step around her and counter. She caught his blade with her own. “Jack, I don’t mean to sound crude, but we’re in actual danger now, aren’t we? What I mean is, if we’re not careful we’ll have our own people against us. That is what he’s trying to do, isn’t it?”

Jack broke off and jumped back a few paces – they were both breathing heavy by now. “I’m not going to let that happen. I made a promise.”

“As my protector?” she asked.

“No, as your friend.”

I can imagine that at that moment something very special clicked between them – that certain feeling of absolute harmony. Even a monster such as myself can tell that it is beautiful.

Lora raised her sword arm and pointed the end of her blade at Jack’s throat. “Jack, I’ve been awfully alone these past few months, and you’re the only one who truly stood by me. Even now, when the world is burning down, here you are. So I ask you, Jack Rose, and I command that you tell the truth… are you in love with me?”

Jack hesitated, but then he struck her blade to the side and dashed forward. She tried to strike at his abdomen but he stopped it. Suddenly they were locked together – Jack’s amber eyes staring into her hazel. “Say it were true?” he whispered, “and I did love you?”

Her lips curled into a smile. “I would be most delighted.”

Jack’s smile followed hers as she stepped away and he tried to catch her. She swept his sword towards the ground and Jack realised, with that move, just how great a swordsman she really was. Each strike was filled with passion and some kind of fury that Jack loved, and as he moved to strike at her upper arm he knew that he was helplessly infatuated with her. She blocked his attack, and he glanced once again into her eyes. “My lady, permission to kiss you.”

He spun around and caught her left hand in his own, their swords locked once again as if they were dancing. With her face so close to his in their embrace, the young queen uttered, “permission granted.”

Holding her left hand, Jack placed his sword arm around the small of her back and leaned over her. Her lips were warm and sweet, their embrace seemingly eternal, Linderly Lora reminded him of honeyed wine – she was so pleasant to hold and to kiss, and her taste was all that he needed to forget about the world. Indeed, as he kissed her, nothing in the universe existed other than her and himself. And then, slowly, it ended. Like the break of dawn, Lora opened her eyes and smiled, and Jack collected her sword. He wasn’t quite sure what to do now. “Come, we’ve trained enough for today.” His eyes moved over towards the beautiful willow tree. The sun was setting, and the last of her glistening rays glided through the forest and painted the lake below with orange and silver. Jack let out a wistful sigh. “The sun is setting. We should return to the palace before people start asking questions.”

He could see that Lora wanted to refuse, but she didn’t. They rode home quietly and slowly, enjoying the last of each other’s company. Jack would go home to the palace, finish the last of his duties, and then return to his quarters and try to sleep, all the while wondering what tomorrow would bring.

6: Chapter 6

The new day was, in my simplest description, both terrible and wonderful for Jack Rose. It began as normal – Jack did his morning exercise and left his quarters to the care of his servants before seeing to his men. He spent some time with his lieutenant revising the patrol schedules for the men, discussed a promotion of one of their more valiant soldiers, and then spent some time tuning up their swordsman skills. As far as Jack knew, his day ended when one of his men came running up to him with a red face and a heavy pant. “My Lord,” he said to Jack, “Governor Ramey is going to have the assassin executed. We couldn’t stop them, sir.”

And thus began the first of many events that would ruin poor Jack’s day. “When is the execution taking place?” he asked, frantically.

“It’s already began,” the man replied. “Outside the palace… people are already gathering in the street to see it happen.”

Jack sped off to find his horse, leaving everything behind so that he could try and save Mr Reginald. He thought the council would have still respected Lora’s word, and that Ramey wouldn’t have been able to hurt him, but alas, this here was Ramey making his move. With Mr Reginald dead, there was no way to prevent a war against King Gerald – and war was something that Lora wasn’t prepared for. You see, Jack assumed that it was Ramey’s intention for Lora to break down under the pressure of it all and abdicate her rule over it him… I can tell you though that this wasn’t the case…

Outside the palace the crowds were just as large as the informer had told him – everyone must have been dying to get a look at the infamous assassin they had heard so much about. They had all gathered in the square just outside the palace, and somewhere within that square was an executioner’s platform, made from wooden scaffolding. Lady Lora was not yet present, however Jack could see Governor John Ramey dressed in a purple coat, standing beside the executioner who wore a tight leather jerkin and a hood that darkened his face. The blade of his axe was as clean as a kitchen knife, however near it the wood had been stained black with blood.

An uproar of curses and insults erupted from within the crowd as two men forced poor Reginald – who was sobbing and bound in chains – to climb the ladder onto the platform. He was shouting something by the time he approached the execution block. “I never spoke!” were his words. “Remember that! I kept my promise ‘till the end!”

Jack reared his horse around the crowd and slid off to climb the ladder, following Reginald’s footsteps. Atop the platform, Ramey would have looked quite pleased with himself, especially when he saw the fury in Jack’s eyes. “Mr Rose,” he quipped, “come to see the execution?”

“No, I’ve come to stop it,” Jack returned. “This man is my prisoner. I gave you no leave to have him executed!”

“That is true,” said Ramey, “however the council came to the decision. Both kingdoms demand justice, Mr Rose, and it is justice they shall have.”

Jack gave an insulting laugh. “Justice? This man is innocent – his hand had been forced. But you wouldn’t care about that, now would you? If it’s a war you want then I shall give you one, but leave Lady Lora out of it.”

“Why should I want a war with your?” Ramey begged, over the sound of Reginald squirming. “You’re no threat to me. But truly, if you wish to kill me, have at it, and it’ll be your head in the execution block next. You have nothing, Mr Rose, your only piece of evidence against me is about to lose his head.”

Tears fell down Reginald’s face like rivers as they forced him to kneel into the wooden block. The executioner balanced his axe over Reginald’s head. The poor man’s mouth opened and closed helplessly but no words were able to make it out. His life, it seemed, was forfeit.

“He doesn’t need to die,” Jack said with a frantic voice. “Whatever it is you want… surely there must be some compromise!”

But it was too late. Ramey shouted the words “off with the head!” and the blade fell. Reginald’s pink head was lopped off like a slice of butter, and it fell ungraciously onto the wood, followed by a thick pool of blood and an eruption of cheers from the crowd.

Jack clenched his hands into fists and Ramey glanced at him. “Your move, Mr Rose.”

Jack left immediately after that. His next move was to find Linderly, and make sure she was safe. Governor Ramey had proven to be an unpredictable man and not once did Jack feel safe, nor did Linderly seem safe – not until this reckoning was over.

He had decided that he was going to convince Linderly to leave with him, and go to some place far away from the kingdom where he knew that she’d be safe. The problem was, he knew that she would never consent – she would never abandon her kingdom. Of course, Jack’s only concern was Linderly – he no longer cared for the kingdom nor the people living in it. But how far would he go? He couldn’t kidnap her and force her to leave, even if it did save her life, she’d still hate him for the rest of his days. As he marched through the palace and towards her personal chambers – where he hoped she’d be – he couldn’t think of one good reason to make her leave… but he had to try. After all, he loved her.

Jack had posted two of his most loyal guards at the door to Linderly’s room. Young Edric had just turned nineteen, and he near on worshipped Jack. The older man beside him had a nice trim beard – Tom was his name, I believe. They saluted Jack and stood to the side as he opened the large golden doors and stepped inside.

He was struck by the heavy aroma of incense and lavender perfume. The chamber was large, and he could not see Linderly, however within the quiet and over the echoing of his footsteps, he could hear the voices of her servants, chattering towards him. The air was deathly cold, and Jack soon found that he felt a pit in his stomach that made him sick.

When the windows were open at this time of day the sun came down into the chamber and reflected upon the floor and the golden furniture so that everything was bright and shining. Jack squinted through the light as he paced into the master bedroom. He found Linderly sitting upon her bed, and dressed in a long silken purple dress. She was beautiful as always, no doubt. Her servants were kneeling before her, trying to speak, but she wouldn’t hear them. When she saw Jack she welcomed him with a smile, but it was cold. “You are dismissed,” she told her maids, and they scurried off through the other passage out of the chamber. Jack and Lora were alone.

“Linderly, have you heard?” Jack asked.

Slowly, she nodded. “Yes, the assassin is dead.”

Jack noticed something different in her – perhaps a slur to her voice. But as far as he knew, it was merely the stress. “My lady, I suggest we leave…” Lora stood up and stepped towards him. “This kingdom is no longer safe…”

Her face loomed up quickly towards his and she kissed him upon the lips. He stepped back, but their lips did not part. He kissed her back, passionately, without thinking. Indeed, he placed a hand on the side of her face, and then her shoulder, and then her back, feeling his way down. She was so sweet, every part of her – and Jack wanted nothing in the world other than her. She stepped back, towards the bed, tugging at his shirt, urging him on. Jack followed for a moment, not a single part of him wanted to stop, and yet he forced himself away, taking a heavy breath as his lips parted from hers, and she fell onto the bed – panting.

“No,” he insisted strongly, “we mustn’t. Why did I even consider…”

Linderly sat up, and it occurred to Jack that her eyes had changed colour – from her iridescent purple to a frail blue. “Our world is ending, Jack,” he murmured. “Why not enjoy it while we still can?”

“No,” he repeated. “Something’s different. You’ve changed. Linderly Lora would never do that… who? Or what, are you?”

The way she smiled with her frozen blue eyes was so icy that it frightened him. “You’re right, Jack, but I’m… surprised you saw it so quickly…” There was an unnerving twitch in her face. “People are usually so caught up in their own desires… why did I say that?”

Jack’s steps were careful as he moved towards her. “What is this? What’s happened here?”
“You’ll be glad to know that I am still Linderly… Lora. But I’m no longer alone…” As she spoke she began to pause every now and then, as if she were hurt. “There’s a voice, Jack… and it’s so terribly loud. It’s telling me to… it wants me to do things, and I must obey…”

“What? What voice?”

“I’m trying, Jack…” He noticed a tear roll down her cheek – the pain she was in. “But if it tells me to walk, I walk. If it tells me to speak, I speak. To kiss, and I kiss. To kill…” The next thing he knew, Linderly was holding a golden dagger in her small pale hands. On instinct Jack drew his sword and took several long steps away from her. “It’s telling me to kill you, Jack.” Light gleamed off her tears as they covered her rosy cheeks. “My most… dearest Jack.”

“Stop this, Linderly,” Jack begged. “Whatever it is… fight it! Just let go of the dagger.”

Jack’s sword was pointing at her, you see, if only it wasn’t pointing at her. “It wants me to kill you,” she kept saying, “or was it… the other way around.”

Suddenly Lora dropped her golden dagger and it clanged against the floor, and with a terrified glance she threw herself forward and fell into Jack’s blade. He screamed as it happened – as he felt the metal sink into her soft flesh. Blood followed.

The sword went through Lora’s body and she fell into his arms, and in that moment the love returned to her eyes, and they were purple again. Jack collapsed to his knees, withdrawing the blade from her body and casting it away. He laid her down, gently, and through her sobs she stared up at him, like he was the only thing left in the universe. He knew full well that she only had but a few moments left, but he refused to believe it until the end. He cried and held her tightly and told her that everything was going to be okay. It seemed her calmness surprised him, as she glanced up at him with eyes full of serenity. “Everything is going to be fine,” she whispered. “Remember what you promised me, Jack. Don’t forget…”

Queen Lady Linderly Lora was dead, and her chambers seemed to be watching, and mourning alongside Jack. He held her there for a while – frozen in time, as if under some tragic spell, until it was broken by two of Ramey’s men as they stepped into the chambers. “My lady,” one of them was saying, “we must apologise for the intrusion however…” Then they saw it. They saw Jack leaning over Lora’s dead body with blood on his hands, and they drew their swords. “Murder!” they cried. “The captain of the guard has murdered the queen!”

Jack’s mind had gone blank, and then his own men, Edric and Tom, stormed in. When they saw that Ramey’s men had their swords out, they drew their own swords and prepared to defend Jack with their lives. Ramey’s men were amazed. “You face the wrong man!” one of them said. “He’s the murderer!”

“Jack would die before the queen,” said Tom, “that’s the way of it.”

“Then this is treason! Stand down or die!” Ramey’s men prepared to attack, and Jack’s man cried out “never!”

They would have killed each other, had Jack not intervened as he did – once his senses returned to him. “Stop!” he called. “There has been enough blood shed today – I’ll have no more. I will not refuse, for it is the truth. I killed Linderly Lora.”