by S. K. Ng
“Necessary _ yes, it was certainly of this as he would have continued to ambush, rob and kill other innocent travellers, and we would have been responsible for their deaths if we had not stop him when we could have,” explained Ray.
Lance went silent from Ray’s grim answer. But he still has a great deal of doubt in him.
“Restrained _ we could have done of this to him, could we not, master?” suggested Lance a few moments later.
“Evil _ men who are of this are not changeable and will never repent, though they may claim falsely otherwise; and if we had restrained him and handed him over to the Provincial Guards and he gets thrown in prison, he will be back to his old evil ways when he gets out; therefore we would have changed nothing, merely delay the same outcome. Law _ perhaps if the system of this was more efficient and perfect in this kingdom, then you would have been right, but at the moment it is not, as many a crime remains unsolved and punishments are mild; meant more for rehabilitation instead of true punishment, whereby the rights of the criminals are of more importance than the safety of the public. Saying _ one of this goes as such; a tiger never changes its stripes, a leopard never loses its spots and the demon’s heart never loses its darkness; it would have been a futile effort to rehabilitate him or even to spare his life, Lance,” clarified Ray.
“But... but… Humans _ they were of them, master!” objected Lance.
“Humans _ they were indeed of them, Lance, and as humans, they were obligated to behave as such, but they have failed to do so; thus death was the appropriate punishment for their failure!” insisted Ray.
“Life _ but is not a human’s of this sacred?” asked Lance.
“No! Life _ a human’s of this is not sacred, only the life of an innocent, be it a human or animal, is; and these robbers were not innocent!” clarified Ray.
Lance stared blankly at Ray, his mind trying to absorb the complexities of Ray’s argument, which was contradictory to what his parents had taught him. In the end, he decided that he would neither accept nor reject what Ray had said until he had sufficient experience in life to know better.
The late afternoon sky began to turn dark. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked. They set up camp on the plateau a few hundred paces away and settled for the day, as climbing down the slope on the other side of the hill would be dangerous in the rain and approaching darkness.
The half-moon shone its restricted brilliance upon a gigantic stone castle in the middle of the vast grasslands of the Kingdom of Serpentia. This castle lies at the northern outskirts of a large city. Inside the castle, a strong and powerful figure sat casually on his throne. His face was hard and stern. His brows were thick and his jaw was square. On his head, he wore a crown that looked like a coiled cobra poised to strike. He was bare-chested except for a large cape that covered his back. And positioned on a vertical stand beside his throne was a large sword. It was a straight-sword with a double-edged blade, and was decorated with snake motifs. Seated across the man’s lap was a sensuously beautiful woman whose dress could barely contain the voluptuousness of her body. While the man sat looking straight ahead and slightly downwards, the woman stared longingly at him and stroked one of his ears continuously. In front of the throne were positioned three banquet tables arranged in the form of columns, filled with numerous well-built, savage-looking men.
The man on the throne grabbed a piece of barbequed limb from a table by his side and started to rip off chunks of meat from it with his teeth, chewing viciously before swallowing.
“Progress report, Battlelord Constrictor!” he demanded.
“King Fangstrike, the progress is good. My men, all five ‘heads’ of them, are well trained and ready for battle. My swordsmen can split wooden shields with one strike and my archers can hit a target 600 paces away. My Grand Catapult crews can launch massive boulders into targets 3,000 paces away and smash them into a pile of dust. All faulty equipment have been repaired or replaced. Sufficient provisions have been stocked up for the campaign as well. We’re ready to move on your orders, my king!” said the battlelord, who was seated on the middle banquet table.
The other 30 savage-looking men paid no attention to Battlelord Constrictor, being too engrossed in the scrumptiousness of their dinner.
King Fangstrike nodded his head in satisfaction.
“Well done, battlelord! You’ll leave at dawn, and don’t return without the slaves!” he ordered, ripping another chunk of meat into his mouth.
“Your command will be my purpose, King Fangstrike!” acknowledged Battlelord Constrictor.
King Fangstrike turned his gaze slightly to his right.
“Battlelord Spitvenom!” called the king.
“Yes, King Fangstrike?” answered a savage-looking man who sat back to back with Battlelord Constrictor on the table to the king’s right.
“I’ve heard that you’re unhappy with this plan, is that true?” asked King Fangstrike.
“It’s true!” answered Battlelord Spitvenom.
“How dare you speak to your king in that tone!” yelled the woman who was seated across the king’s lap.
“Queen Diamondboa, the affairs of the kingdom are for the discretion of men and are none of yours!” reminded Battlelord Spitvenom.
“How dare you! I’m your queen!” said the woman furiously.
“Enough of that, my love. A battlelord is highly valued in our society. Let him speak,” said King Fangstrike to his queen.
“King Fangstrike, as I’ve said earlier, this raid is unnecessary. We have plenty of nomads whom we can enslave. Why should we bother to conduct a raid into Free Falls? The Fallsians will fight back. Our men will get killed. The nomads won’t fight back. They never have. It’s easy picking. Why waste our resources on Fallsian slaves? Besides, Fallsian slaves aren’t durable. They die too easily!” said Battlelord Spitvenom.
The other battlelords broke into laughter. So did the king.
“Well said, Battlelord Spitvenom! But you’ve forgotten that Free Falls was born from the nomads who dared to defy our predecessors. The Fallsians must continuously be made an example of, or otherwise, our nomads will be inspired by their ancestors’ example and rebel against us,” the king pointed out.
“Very well, King Fangstrike! I concede that I was erroneous in my thoughts!” surrendered Battlelord Spitvenom.
“Is there anyone else who is unhappy with this plan?” asked the king.
All the battlelords sat silent and still.
Queen Diamond Boa nibbled at the king’s ear.
“What of the old and the sick, my love. Surely they make poor workers in the mine and distasteful playthings in your bed,” whispered Queen Diamond.
“Hold!” shouted the king.
Everyone present in the throne room froze again. Now all eyes were upon the king.
“Battlelord Constrictor, kill the old and the sick, we want not of such burden,” ordered the king as he grabbed the queen and engaged her in a session of passionate kissing.
“Understood, King Fangstrike. I’ll bring back only the youngest, healthiest and finest of specimens,” replied Battlelord Constrictor.
The king hardly noticed the battlelord’s reply for he was too preoccupied with his passion for the queen. The other battlelords broke into a buzz of conversation with regards to the raid. Some of the battlelords offered Battlelord Constrictor advice on how the raid should be carried out or how to improve the plan he already had in mind.
A messenger entered the throne room, approached the king and bowed.
“What do you want, messenger!?” asked King Fangstrike while still passionately engaging his queen in an oral display of affection.
“I have a vital message for you, King Fangstrike,” answered the messenger.
“Go away, I’m busy!” said the king in between the smooches.
“King Fangstrike, this message is in regards to that special issue that you had commanded me to bring to your attention,” insisted the messenger.
“Ahhh!
Business! Excuse me, darling, I’ll be back soon,” said the king to his queen apologetically.
The king motioned for the messenger to approach the throne. The messenger delivered a sealed note into the king’s hand and then bowed and left the throne room.
King Fangstrike opened the sealed note and read its content. Then he got off his throne and marched out of the room immediately. In a secluded section of the castle, he pressed a secret panel and the door to a hidden room opened. He entered the dimly lit room. A mysterious figure dressed in elegant clothes emerged from the shadows and stood facing him. King Fangstrike stared at the cold, emotionless golden mask of his elegantly dressed visitor with blank expression.
“All is going according to plan, I presume?” asked the visitor.
Immediately, a dagger’s tip was pressed into the visitor’s neck, deep enough to draw fine droplets of blood but not enough to end his life.
“Who are you to speak to me in such a way, traitor!?” cautioned the king, pressing the dagger a little bit deeper.
“I am the man who is going to give you Eastern Falls with all of its riches, resources and slaves,” said the masked figure.
“Never speak to me in this manner again, Destiny! The next time you speak to me in such a tone, I’ll have my men rip out your intestines and let you bleed to death in a slow, painful manner. Your presence here is hardly welcomed, and I’ve serious doubts that you can do as you’ve claimed. Destiny, huh! Even this name that you’ve chosen sounds egotistical and fraudulent to me! And what’s your obsession with wearing silk shirts, are you some kind of transvestite or something?” expressed King Fangstrike angrily.
The elegantly dressed gentleman grabbed King Fangstrike’s dagger hand with his own and pressed the blade deeper into his throat
“I am not fraudulent and I am not a transvestite! However, I am egotistical, but I am rightly and deservingly so! So kill me then! Press the dagger all the way in!” he challenged.
The king hesitated. Finally, he withdrew the dagger.
“You will not kill me, because I am the only one who can give you Eastern Falls; and without that province, you will never have enough food, products and slaves that you need to strengthen this wasted land you call your kingdom. Forget not who I am, and forget not of my influence and power. Eastern Falls will be yours, as per our agreement. And I am not one of your brainless apes, King Fangstrike, it would serve you well to remember that. And you will remember to address me as Lord Destiny,” reminded the elegantly dressed gentleman.
King Fangstrike stared at his guest with the greatest contempt.
“I’ll do no such thing! Besides, what makes you think that I need you to take Eastern Falls, Destiny?” asked the king.
“If you could take it by yourself, you would have already done so; would you not?” replied the masked figure.
King Fangstrike turned his face away in a half angry, half embarrassed snarl.
“You need me!” Lord Destiny pointed out.
“Do I really? If anyone knew that I’m associated with you, or if they even suspected it, I’d have a full blown mutiny on my hands. Serpentians don’t take kindly to Fallsians, especially traitors!” said King Fangstrike.
Lord Destiny shook his head. This action only served to infuriate the king further.
“Have you forgotten how you got the throne, Fang Patrum? Have you forgotten that it was my agent who weakened King Deathcoil with poison so that you could kill him in your Trial of Worthiness? Without my help, you would be dead and Deathcoil would still be king,” reminded Lord Destiny.
King Fangstrike was silent. It was bitter for him to swallow humble pie. But in his heart, he made a vow to kill Lord Destiny in the most painful manner that he could think of. No one insults him and gets away with it! Especially not some Fallsian traitor who was delusional.
Lord Destiny savoured his small moment of triumph. Serpentians were always less sophisticated compared to Fallsians, and this very distant relative of the Fallsian king was no different.
“One of my serpenest will depart at dawn to carry out the raid. Is everything ready on your side?” said the king finally.
“It is. I have engaged a very professional organisation for the job. They have an excellent track record. I doubt they will fail,” said the masked figure.
“I hope your faith is well placed. Forget not that our target is no commoner. He’ll be well protected!” reminded the king.
“There are contingency plans in place,” assured Lord Destiny.
“Well, I want this done and over with, the sooner the better. And after that, we’re even. And we’re over! Do you understand!? I want nothing more to do with you when all this is done, is that clear?” said the king.
“Very clear! After this, we are over!” agreed Lord Destiny.
A dark figure lay hidden beneath one of the windows of the throne room. He was garbed in black clothing, including gloves; and his face was smeared with mud. He has heard as much as he had needed to. The battlelords had stopped talking strategies. They had begun talking about women and sharing dirty jokes with each other. He looked around, and found no Serpentian guard near his vicinity. Gently, he raised his body off the ground and ran in a crouch towards the outer wall of the fortress. His heartbeats were erratic and his breaths were heavy. Anxiety gripped his mind tightly, leaving no room for any thought except one; to escape and live long enough to tell his superiors of what he had heard.
The dark figure made his way through the castle and reached the outer wall. Slowly and silently, he climbed up the stairs to the top of the wall, and then hoisted himself over the parapets and climbed down the other side using a rope that he had prepared. He climbed down the high wall skilfully. As he reached the ground, he felt slightly relieved. So far, his escape plan was going well.
Suddenly, he lets out a soft moan as a sharp pain in his back takes him by surprise. He falls onto one knee. Instantly, the feeling of dread consumes him. Crimson blood flows along the black clothing and drips onto the grassy Serpentian ground. He begins coughing, and blood sprays from his mouth as he does so. He reaches toward his back, feeling for the arrow shaft to confirm his suspicion. He mutters a whispered curse as his fingers comes into contact with it. The pain is excruciating. He feels like sitting down. He feels like surrendering and begging for medical treatment. He feels like giving up. But he knows he cannot. Many Fallsians will die if he does so. He must carry on. So he picks himself up and continues to run into the dimness of the half-mooned night.
Meanwhile, on the top of the outer wall of the stone castle, two Serpentian guards were fidgeting with fear.
“We have to raise the alarm!” said the first guard.
“Ssshh! Quiet, you crazy fool! King Fangstrike will have us beheaded if he finds out that a spy has managed to get in here in the first place. Are you trying to get us killed?” whispered the second guard.
“Then what are we supposed to do?” asked the first guard.
“Hide the rope and make pretend the whole thing has never happened. You have punctured one of his lungs. This is a serious wound. Besides, our arrowheads are laced with poison. He will die either way, so there is no need to attract any attention to us, to our failure!” answered the second one.
With a reluctant nod, the first guard helped the second guard pull up the grappling hook and the rope that the dark figure had used and the both of them hurried off to hide the ‘evidence’. Then the two guards pretended that nothing had happened and resumed their patrol of the outer wall.
The dark figure ran on clumsily. After 300 paces from the castle, he stumbled and sat himself down, half choking and half drowning from his own blood. The world seemed to spin around him and his eye-lids felt too heavy to lift. He felt so sleepy. But he told himself that he must carry on. Fallsian lives depended on him! He must get up! And then, with massive effort, he picked himself up and started running again. A few dozen paces later, he stumbled and fell again; and again he pulled himself up and forced hi
mself forward.
Finally, he reached the tree to which he had tied his horse. He clumsily untied the horse and grabbed the saddle, but stood still momentarily, unsure of his capability to mount the horse. Finally, with a forced determination, he stepped on the stirrup and with both hands, hoisted himself up and collapsed onto the horse’s back. The horse started galloping wildly through the tall grass and undulating terrain of Serpentia with its unconscious master on its back. In the distance, the wild laugh-like howling of a pack of hyenas accompanied the horse’s gallop like a mismatched orchestra.
Two nights later, at a secret location along Free Falls’ mountainous border with Serpentia, four weary horse-mounted soldiers waited in the pale dimness of night. Two of them were clad in flame red uniform shirts with golden yellow collars. They were male. The other two, one of them a woman, wore the same coloured uniform shirts but were with dark brown collars instead. All four of them had flame red uniform pants and black leather boots. They all wore steel breastplates on their torsos. Their steel shoulder and arm pieces, which were connected to their breastplates, were painted to match their collars. They wore steel vambraces for the protection of their forearms, steel groin pieces for their groins, steel thigh guards for their thighs and steel greaves for their shins.
“We shall wait for another hour, if he does not appear, it is safe to assume that he has been killed or captured. We may have to send someone else in and to do so tonight, if possible,” said the woman.
“Convian Serene Genox, I concur with your conclusion. I shall go tonight if he fails to show up,” replied one of the golden yellow collared soldiers.
On the left side of this soldier’s breastplate was etched and painted two identical symbols of a silver dove, viewed from the side, flying with its wings outstretched.