“How is it, My Prince?” The dressmaker lowered his chin, his eyes looking over his glasses.
“It looks wonderful, sir. Thank you,” Arth said as he surveyed himself in front of the mirror. He wore a knee-length blue tunic of golden beadings. Beneath it was his white inner garment with two buttons undone to reveal his chest, tucked in his straight-cut black trousers.
“Are you certain you do not want any jewelry, Your Highness? It’ll make you look more glamorous in the ceremony later,” the man said. “We have five boxes for you to choose from … some fine gold necklaces and diamond rings—”
“It’s all good.” Arth smiled at the dressmaker and then looked again at the mirror as a servant was oiling his newly-cut black hair.
The door of the dressing room suddenly opened.
Looking through the mi
It was a grand festive night for the entire kingdom capital to celebrate the crowning of the new king. Arth had never been to a big celebration before, seeing lots and lots of people. He was seated at the dais of the Great Hall with tons of food on his own table. It was too much at least for him, so he just sighed and then sipped on his wine, looking around. The other three kings had already returned to their regions right after the ceremony had ended earlier, as they still had other responsibilities to attend to.Now that more people were present, the air had become warmer, filled with loud chats and laughs from the nobles and lords while they drank their liquor. The live music played by the talented musicians had made the Great Hall much noisier.“So this is what a feast is like,” Arth shook his head, watching a drunk noble dance over the table while his fellows laughed and clapped their hands, “It’s &
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This story is not affiliated with any institutions mentioned in the chapters. Please be advised that this story contains mature themes such as violence and strong language that are not suitable for very young audiences. Read at your own risk. *** A grand adventure was about to unfold to a young swordsman from a humble village called Frostwood. He had come of age. And it was his most awaited day in his whole eighteen years of existence. Galloping on a horse was a young man named Arth. His ocean-blue eyes were gently kissed by the afternoon sun rays, making his eye color more pure and vibrant. T
"Attention to all competitors!" a loud voice woke Arth up from his sleep. He slowly sat up on the bed and rubbed his eyes. "You have thirty minutes to prepare and gather to the eastern entrance of the gatehouse!" the man said before going out and closing the doors. Arth immediately prepared himself. He took off his cloak, now leaving him with his short-sleeved blue coat that revealed his muscled arms and fair skin. He tightened the strings on his limbs and wore his black belt. Then, he stood up and stretched his body as he saw the others already walking out of the room. He took his sword and locked the scabbard on his belt at the left side before following his competitors out of the building. A lot of young warriors were already walking towards the gate entrance of the city. Arth looked around hoping that he would find his friend, Robert, but he couldn't. A few minutes later, a loud cheer thundered a
"Eeeek!" The shrieking scream of a wild boar echoed throughout the dark forest as it got slashed by Arth’s blade, sharp and deadly. Dark and warm blood burst out of the beast’s wounded belly. Arth, who was standing in front, raised his Blackwinter sword with its sharp point aiming down towards the head of the boar. Without any hesitation, he landed a quick and direct thrust on its neck. It was a seamless plunge on the soft flesh. The boar died a few seconds after and a white, small sphere slowly appeared from its mouth. Arth took the white core and placed it on his jar. He grimaced, shaking his head in disappointment, looking at his jar that only contained white cores. ‘Where the hell can I find those B-class beasts?’Arth thought.‘Seriously, it's been almost two hours already and all I have collected are white cores from C-class. Damn it.’ Arth let out a huge breath. "We have to work
"We have another competitor coming through!" the announcer from the arena spoke. Holding his left shoulder, Arth walked towards the center of the stage where only four warriors left were seen, including Bran. He was moving a bit slower from the exhaustion of his whole body. If only he could skip the evaluation and just head straight to the lounge to rest. Looking around, Arth saw the crowded audiences sitting around the circular arena. Their loud, ongoing yells echoed around the place. At the center of the arena, there were three Grand Knights and one Grand Mage, standing in front of the warriors. One of them was Grand Knight Tera. Arth took a short glance at the Grand Mage who was wearing a white cloak with a ruby badge on his left chest. He already looked old because of his white hair and wrinkled face. Then Arth turned his eyes to Bran, whose face looked surprised of seeing him in the arena. ‘You’re lucky my arm is injured,’
"This … this is madness! I've done nothing wrong!" A filthy peasant agonized, kneeling on the ground with his hands chained. His dirty clothes have been torn as his dry skin revealed painful marks from intense torture. Along with him were two, dreadful bodies—no heads, lying while blood spurted and flowed on the stone floor. He was the last one to be executed on the underground dungeon of the castle. "The court has already proven you guilty. I’ve no pity to those who defy the laws," Kael Denvorn replied in a cold voice as he stood high in front of the foul prisoner. The silver-armored knight beside Kael handed over a long and sharp sword. "How did I end up to this madness? It was that damn noble who drugged and tortured my family to death! Where the hell is justice in that? That monster should be the one to be punished!" the man cried out with tears falling down from his bloodshot eyes. “You’re all rotting demons… all of you…”
"Why is the supply of woods lacking from yesterday's delivery cargo? I received only half of what is requested!" The dark and loud voice of the Lord of Casterfall had stopped Arth from taking a step down the staircases. The sun still had not risen, but he was already asked to meet Lord Nicholas at this very early. The sleeves of Arth’s white cotton garment reached unto his hands, then partnered by his brown trousers. It was the only decent and presentable outfit he got from his bag. His black hair had also been fixed to the side, leaving some strands on his forehead. Thanks to the herbal medicines, his head injury had a smaller bandage now that it has almost recovered. Wood supply? Arth repeated in his mind with his brows furrowed. He wondered if Lord Nicholas was talking about Frostwood, since it was the only village who supplies wood resources. He tiptoed behind the wall to eavesdrop on what the lord was ranting about. "The v
Warm air welcomed them upon stepping inside. An open space at the center had long couches and a low table. The blazing fireplace gave warmth and light to the entire living room. The floor was finished with wood and the glass windows had dark curtains covering it. Arth was walking around when he got a bitter and burned scent in the air. "What's that smell?" he asked. Robert looked up and sniffed, then his eyes widened in surprise. "Oh dammit … Alice!" he grunted, storming through the hall. Arth wanted to know where the scent was coming from, so he followed Robert. The hall had two doorways on each side. The first one Arth had passed by was the dining area, and the second one was the kitchen. At the end of the hall was a staircase leading to the second floor. "What on Earthos are you doing?!" Robert's loud voice thundered from the second doorway ahead. As Arth entered the kitchen, the smell of the burning food got stronger. Robert