The Reaper's Voyage

Prologue

Clang! Clang! Sing!

In the fifth month of the year 1744, the heat of the noon sun peaks through the windows. The small dark reflection of themselves moves rhythmically below them. The atmosphere is silent and almost fresh; a scent of dough and metal lingering in the air. The tension between them is almost suffocating.

Hearts jump as the clashing of the swords resound in the Royal Court as Silas Casteron, the King of the Udriles Kingdom, and Jothan Kersey, His Captain of the Royal Guard, dance around each other in the Royal Court, eyes narrowed in concentration. Neither backing down from the challenge. Forfeiting a duel is subjecting yourself to death, hence the fight continues. A foolish man who forfeits a duel to the King, is a coward who is afraid to look death in the eyes.

The thickness and stickiness of blood drips down Silas' fingertips from the bodies of his guards who lay lifeless around them. Their bravery won't go down in history but at least they died knowing they fought to the very end. He advances causing Jothan to guard and retreat. He scoffs as a sly smirk plays on the corner of his lips. They circle each other, their swords pointing, waiting for the right moment. You can't hesitate or you'll make a mistake and you can't be too hasty or you will surely make a mistake. The timing and skill have to be at a balance in order to try and obtain an advantage over your opponent.

"Scared, Jothan?" Silas taunts, advancing further more and a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He likes seeing the flash of fear in his opponent's eyes. An overwhelming sensation of joy burns in his chest as he witnesses them torture themselves knowing that their end is near and there is nothing they can do about it but fight til they take their last breath.

"One would be given..." The shoulder length white haired, pinned in a ponytail Captain trails, sweeping his eyes around at the dead guards laying on the floor of the Royal Court. He flexes his tense fingers and tightens his grip on his sword. He lifts his chin subtly to appear confident, feeling himself waver a bit.

Silas lifts a shoulder in a lazy gesture, his eyes void of emotion as he sweeps his eyes over the bodies. "They were useless, therefore expendable. You, however, are not." This is a recurring thing for Silas. It is regular that he has to replace his guards. Nothing is wrong with them, per se. The fact is simple. Silas is like a five year old boy and the guards are his playthings. After having his fun with them for an extended period, he disposes of them and orders for a new set.

Jothan sighs. He always knew how heartless Silas was but he repeatedly managed to surprise him. Silas always claims he trusts Jothan more than anything but Jothan was always prepared. If it was so easy for him to kill his guards—whose sole purpose is to protect him—then what would stop him from one day killing him? The reason: Jothan is Silas' favorite toy. Though, there will come a time when the child will have no choice but to let go of sentiment.

Silas Casteron is known as the Devil King, taking after his grandfather, Boaz Casteron who was pure evil to the core center of his body. Boaz Casteron had no love in his heart for anyone, not any of his wives nor his children. Fortunately, his son, Gideon, turned out nothing like his father which made Boaz hate him even more and tried to manipulate him into making the people more miserable than they already were. Karma passed through and Boaz took ill. He died in a matter of six excruciating days, where he still tried to ruin others' life to his death. There was never a larger party throughout Udriles Kingdom than the one everyone threw to celebrate his death. Of course, Gideon cried–Boaz was his father after all. No matter how ruthless he was, he still had love in his heart for him.

History repeated itself when Silas Casteron became King. The people in the Udriles Kingdom would pray to whatever gods they believe in that he would one day die. It's what earned him the scar that runs through his left eyebrow to the corner of his eye. The people were tired of praying and decided to take matters in their own hands. Seeing as he is still alive, one would assume he didn't take the threat well and many people died.