In this world, those blessed by the war god make the mightiest of warriors, heroes and generals. The weakest of which equate to the value of roughly twenty men (per battle) while the strongest could change the tides of an entire war and crush armies singlehandedly. In all of Pangea, there are only four S-Class generals alive;
Great Holy Knight Gladius, the noble Warrior of the West, who serves the Kingdom of Eternia and leads the Knights Crusader.
Flying General Lu Bu, the crimson beast of the east and the most powerful warlord in the Taian Empire.
Twin Heaven Swordmaster Miyamoto Musashi, the reclusive guardian of the Anzai Shogunate.
Erik the Red, the strongest of the Jarls under the Kingdom of the Nords.
Whenever any of these four legendary heroes clash, the world trembles in endless reverence and fear. As a general rule in war, these four are to be avoided by any means necessary. Their strength is so great that no one dares to intervene in their duels… as a matter of fact, the idea doesn't even come to mind. That is how terrifying they truly are to the rest of the world.
In Pangea, every soldier's dream is to attain the blessing of the war god… because, with it, a path to wealth, lands, renown and glory is almost certain. Unless they die early, of course.
Despite being a prince of Eternia, it was Artos Pendragon's wish to attain the war god's blessing and become a Holy Knight… but such a thing never comes from governing, unfortunately. Nor does it come from being a slave.
~
"You were meant to protect us…" One rather distraught village girl muttered to Artos Pendragon, whose eyes were as hollow as they could be. "My mother, father, brother… they all died because you were weak. A real prince… would've... protected them!"
Artos Pendragon looked up at the girl as his expression did not move in the slightest. Once the girl had spoken, one of the more elderly of the Vikings on the ship glanced at him for a moment of interest but did not do anything more.
"... You're right. I'm no dragon or knight. I couldn't even protect myself... that's how weak I am. My oldest half-brother would've killed every last barbarian here on his own… but I… couldn't." Artos Pendragon's tone was cold and empty, showing little emotion. His eyes had been sore from a mental breakdown he had earlier where he had cried it all out… until a Viking knocked him out again. There wasn't exactly much enthusiasm in his heart because he knew the tragic fate that awaited him.
"..." Seeing him admit to his weakness, the girl had nothing more to say. This was even more true when she turned and saw a Viking looking rather annoyed by her shouting.
'Why can't things go back to how they were?'
Artos dropped his head against the longboat's hull and drifted off to a better place. He dreamt of endless green fields, the wonderful Imperial City of Eternity and so many of the greater moments of his life. Living with his mother and sister, sword training, showing off his swift learning capabilities to his royal father, spending time with his half-brothers… even if some of them bullied him at times. Escalar, his royal advisor, always scolding him for his wild nature… he wanted all of it back.
~
Accompanied by several knights, a young Artos Pendragon sat in his mother's lap under the shade of a large tree. Further ahead in the fields, a few villagers were getting their difficult daily routine in and enjoying the blissful peace of nature afterwards. On that day, his mother seemed especially fairy-like as she held him tight.
"One day, you will grow your own wings and fly away from my embrace. When that day comes… choose a life that you would be happy living."
"... Mother?" Artos Pendragon was a little confused as to why his mother was acting so strangely all of a sudden.
"Always remember that you are a dragon amongst men. Never let anyone look down on you and tell you that there's something you can't do. Because, no matter how difficult it may seem… you can achieve anything in the world if you put your mind to it. You are my son, after all…"
Her embrace tightened a little as she smiled.
"So is there anything you want to be in particular when you grow up?"
"... I want to grow up to be a great knight like King Arthur!"
"Of course my little knight would say that…" She chuckled, brushing her hand against his long golden hair. "Would you like to hear his tale one more time?"
Artos Pendragon nodded eagerly.
"You never get tired of it… then again, never did I." She smiled cheerfully and closed her eyes, imagining the tale herself. "Long ago, before even the Kingdom of Eternia, lived a boy who wanted to be King and unite the world as one amidst the chaos…"
'...'
As Artos Pendragon became self-conscious of his dream, he attempted to reach out to his mother… but she faded away into flames.
"Always... protect your sister."
'Mother…!'
Tears flowed down his emerald eyes as his world twisted and fell into an abyss.
~
Many weeks later.
After some fast sailing, the two longboats had reached Nordic territory. They had taken the long way around, evading Eternian patrols effectively.
"How much for the goldy." The elderly Viking approached Artos Pendragon's captor, speaking in their native language.
"The golden-haired one?" The Viking stroked his long beard in thought for a few seconds. "He wore the clothes of a highborn and looks strong for his age despite the pretty face. If you really want him, I can bargain for three gold pieces."
"Three gold pieces... a rather steep but fair price." The elderly Viking nodded without much hesitation, taking out two gold pieces and handing them over. "That seals the deal."
"You're a good man, Egil." The Viking gave the end of Artos Pendragon's rope to the elderly Egil with a smile. "He looks half dead... but that's your problem now."
"Don't worry, I'll take good care of him." Egil smiled back reassuringly, grabbing Artos Pendragon's rope and forcing him up on his feet.
Having spent a month as a slave on a Viking longboat, Artos Pendragon wasn't exactly in the finest state of mind. Even physically, he was hungry, cold and a great deal weaker than before. Mentally... he was worse off. He was broken to the core and 'coasting' along with life. All of his hopes and dreams had been shattered right before his eyes. Meanwhile, everyone he had gotten to know in the village was either dead or chained.
He, himself, was a slave...
Even if he said he was a prince, would anyone even believe him in this distant cold land?
He felt so dead that the thought of suicide never crossed his mind - he just existed.
Egil almost dragged him the whole way, taking half an hour to reach his home. It was a rather modest house... too modest for a Viking who had accumulated quite some wealth over his years of service. Unlocking the door, he dragged Artos Pendragon inside and prepared a nice warm fire.
Meanwhile, Artos fell into another trance to pass the time.
...
"Give it up, foolish younger brother. You will never be a holy knight."
Artos Pendragon laid on the ground, looking up at his eldest half-brother; the crown prince Aryan Pendragon. He had been completely outclassed by him in a spar earlier... that's an understatement, actually. Aryan Pendragon hadn't even used his sword as he simply disarmed and wrestled him onto the ground like a helpless child.
"I..."
"There are some things that just aren't meant to be in this world. Now, if I were you, I'd follow royal father's instructions wholeheartedly. He knows what's best for all of us, after all..."
"He certainly knows what's best for you..." Artos Pendragon retorted, shaking his head. "Me? He wants me to go to some nameless village. How is that fair?"
"Fair? Do you speak of fairness? Hmph, would you rather be disowned and thrown onto the streets? I'd love to see how you'd survive then without any royal backing!-"
"Calm down, elder brother." The second prince of Eternia grabbed his shoulder. "Our little brother here is just a tad bit wild, especially after the death of his mother."
"That gives him no excuse to act like a spoiled brat. Even if our royal father wants him to plough the fields, then he should naturally oblige without question!"
'Fairness... you were born first in line and I'm thirteenth...'
...
"Wake up." Egil shook Artos Pendragon awake and watched him half-heartedly nod. Once he saw this, Egil spoke in a language that Artos Pendragon could actually understand... Eternian. "I know these past few days must have been difficult for you, prince."
Egil drew his knife and cut off Artos Pendragon's binds, leaving his arms free at last.
"... Prince?" Artos Pendragon's eyes suddenly opened wider as he turned to Egil with some interest. "You can speak... Eternian?"
"... Haha, believe it or not, my father was Eternian. It's quite the blessing to be able to speak multiple tongues, truly. It led me to you." Egil smiled, offering Artos Pendragon a bowl of soup. "Here, have this. You must be starving for a hot meal."
"..." Artos Pendragon's hands struggled to accept a gift from a Viking... but his stomach overwrote that thought as he started to gobble every last bit down. "You said that your father was... Eternian?"
"Mn, yes he was. A knight of noble origin and a man with the desire to see the world... or so mother told me. Due to his passive nature, he was accepted into this village and treated as if he was a Nord. In the end, he earned the good graces of my mother... and one thing led to another."
"Did he... fight against the Kingdom of Eternia?"
"No, he viewed every separate Kingdom as the same. He believed in protecting the weak and it mattered not which Kingdom the common people came from. We were all flesh and blood, he would say."
"Tsk... he mingled with barbarians." Artos Pendragon spoke with clear disdain. "That's no knight in my eyes."
"Hahaha... fair enough. You have good reasons for hating us Nords but we're all not that bad. Even your precious Eternians can act like barbarians and savages when they need to. In truth, boy, there is no single evil in this world. Every nation has their greedy bastards."
"Since you know that I'm a prince... what do you intend to do? Sell me back to my father for a high price?"
"No, no... that sounds far too lavish for an old man like me." Egil smiled as he looked at Artos Pendragon's confused expression. "Wealth at this point is meaningless for me. My only love died from illness long ago and so did my only child... so I'm an old man who stands alone in this world, you can say."
"... Then why-"
"You ask too many questions, boy." Egil stood up, grabbing some bread and handing it to Artos Pendragon. "The thought of running away from this old man must've crossed your mind by now... but I'd like to say something before you truly consider it."
"Hmm?" Artos Pendragon grabbed the bread and ate it up rather swiftly.
"Hahaha..."
"What's... so funny?"
"The way you eat is very much unlike a prince... I like it!" Egil smiled, shaking Artos' left shoulder enthusiastically. "Alright, enough laughing... I'll be serious now. Even if you somehow manage to run away from everyone in this village, you'll be stuck in an outside world you barely understand. Another, probably worse, Nord would catch you eventually. If not that, you'd die to some beast due to your lack of strength. Or hunger... or the cold. So many things can kill a boy like you."
"What if a knight of Eternia finds me first?"
"Don't be too naive, boy. There is no knight of Eternia for hundreds of miles." Egil answered rather seriously. "I've never taken in a slave before... but now, because of my old age, I feel like I need a helping hand. I still need to keep my back in decent shape for battle and in preparation for Valhalla..."
"A slave..." Artos Pendragon's tone was dead when he spoke those words.
"Well... not the best of occupations, certainly." Egil smiled slightly as he drank some of his wine. After putting down the cup, he spoke once more in a friendly tone. "I'll treat you well, prince, if you treat me well. Wouldn't that be fair? You can place your trust in my word."
"..." Artos Pendragon didn't reply, frowning silently instead.
"Listen... how about a deal." Egil stroked his grey beard, suddenly thinking of something.
"A deal?"
"Indeed, boy. It's no secret that I don't have many more years in me... but, until then, I want you to accompany me. Do the things around the house, cook sometimes, bring firewood... little things like that. If you do that for me, I'll teach you some of the sweet tricks this old wolf knows."
Since Artos Pendragon still looked hesitant, Egil pointed up his index finger.
"And... once I die, you can have your freedom restored to you! I'll make sure to arrange it with my Jarl."
"Freedom... won't I just get captured again?"
"Valid point. My Jarl certainly wouldn't mind earning himself a prince's ransom, however... so you would return to your royal father afterwards. You'd win either way, no? It would only cost your father a pretty penny but you'd be back home." Egil negotiated rather charismatically for a Viking which surprised the prince before him quite a bit. "Unless that village girl was lying about you being a prince... though I wouldn't see why-"
"Why would you believe a village girl?" Artos questioned.
"And why would she lie when she has little to hope for?" Egil nodded several times, smiling a little too much as he observed his golden hair and emerald eyes. These were traits of Eternian royalty, rooted from King Pendragon himself. "The look in your eyes says it all. You are a prince of Eternia."
"Aren't you afraid that I might kill you myself?" Artos Pendragon suddenly questioned. He was an old man, after all.
"Bahaha... you, kill me? You have a good sense of humour... truly." Egil chuckled, brushing aside his remark with a look of amusement. "What's your name, young man?"
"Artos Pendragon."
"Ahh... now that's the name of a prince, alright. So, boy... if you're so knightly, noble and honourable, then the only way you'd aim to kill me would be in single combat. Which, I'm afraid to say, would not fare well for you. I might be old... but I'm still deadly."
"..." Artos Pendragon did not doubt Egil, having been so easily defeated by a Viking earlier. In a fight against true warriors... he had been an absolute joke. An older, more experienced fighter... there had to be a strong reason for him to survive until now in a profession where young men died often.
"Alright... it's not like I have much of a choice." Artos Pendragon reluctantly nodded.
"So, you accept my offer?"
"Yes... I do."
"That's a good man, you won't regret it. I'll treat you as if you were my own son!"
'That's a good joke...'
Artos Pendragon did not fully understand the warm glow in Egil's blue eyes at that moment... but he would in due time.