Heir to a Bloody Throne

Chapter One

Valor stood on the hill above the walled-in settlement, a cool wind whipping around his cloaked form. His eyes shone brightly beneath his hood, and his father's pick hung at his side. He knew they could see him. He wanted them to.

Rumors had spread far and wide of the corruption in this town, but nothing had yet to be done about it. Once upon a time, his father would have sought it out and dealt with it, but now that duty fell on his shoulders.

And he was wholly unprepared for it.

Valor shifted, tugging his hood down further over his face. The rumors were nothing if not obscure, and he had no clue where to begin finding those at fault. It would be foolish simply march in and start asking around, if the town had half as much tension as the rumors had implied they would want nothing to do with a stranger attempting to find information.

Valor spun around, retreating down the other side of the hill. Unfortunately, that seemed to be his only option. So in he would go.

Passing his hand over his eyes, Valor blinked, and his white, blank eyes were replaced by brown irises. He blinked once more, then made his way towards the great wooden gates.

*

The tavern was far too quiet.

Valor sipped his drink from where he sat in the farthest corner, brown eyes scanning the dim room. Despite the room being nearly full, the majority of the conversations took place in hushed voices and whispers, without any sign of the drunken rowdiness one would expect from such an establishment. As such, there wasn't much he could overhear, other than a few snatches of conversation from those nearest to him, from which he could learn nothing about the state of the town.

Val had wrapped the blade of his father's pickaxe in cloth, removed his hood, and smeared some charcoal on his face before attempting to enter the city, attempting to pass as a simple miner. His disguise had worked well enough, he had gotten into the settlement without incident, but he had yet to entice any of the townsfolk into talking with him.

It was only around 9 in the evening, but some patrons were already leaving for the night. Disappointed, Valor finished his drink and snatched up his knapsack, intending to leave the town again for the night.

At that moment, the door was thrown open, and a tall man dressed in shining, gold armor marched through with an entourage of six similarly-dressed soldiers.

"Innkeeper!" The man roared, and Valor hunched over a bit, intending to blend into the rest of the patrons.

"My lord!" A man dressed in an apron hurried to the counter, giving the man a small bow. "How can I help you, my lord?"

"I am in need of four rooms." The lord spoke, his voice curt and disinterested. "We will be here for one night only."

"I'm afraid my rooms are all full, my lord." The innkeeper responded carefully. "But," he continued hastily as the lord's brows lowered. "I will ready some for you. For one night that will be four emeralds."

"I will not be paying."

"Yes my lord." Ducking his head, the innkeeper hurried away. In the corner, Valor rested his chin in his palm. So here was the source of the corruption in the town.

Perhaps a petty warlord? Or a selfish knight throwing around his rank? Either way, he was clearly becoming a nuisance. Valor's other hand found the handle of his father's pickaxe, gripping it tightly. If this man died, then the townsfolk's lives would return to normal.

The young man watched as the innkeeper returned, bringing with him a few people undoubtedly displaced from their rooms. Among them was a couple with a young child, and Valor's lip curled with distaste. This man, whoever he was, seemed to have no issue with forcing a child to sleep on the street.

"Your rooms, my lord." The innkeeper offered the armored man four keys, which the man took without so much as a word of thanks and marched upstairs with his guards in tow. Valor took this opportunity to collect his belongings, then he slipped out of the tavern and retreated beyond the town's walls to change into his disguise.

No one knew that his father was dead, he thought grimly as he donned his dark cloak. With his white eyes and similar fighting style, they would never have to know. As long as he did his job correctly, that is.

Stay in the shadows. Only attack those who deserve it. Don't leave a mess. Above all, do not consort with mortals.

Valor's heart ached. And yet, after all that, his father was just as mortal as any of them.

His father may lie dead, but his legacy would live on. Val would be sure of it.

Tugging the dark hood over his head, Valor removed the veil over his eyes and teleported back inside the walls.