Chereads / The Crusader Emperor / Chapter 3 - Betrayed By His Own

Chapter 3 - Betrayed By His Own

After dumping some chopped wood to the side, Artos took a small breather. He glanced at Egil, who was relaxed as he could be. His legs were both stationed on the table before him while he comfortably sat on a warm seat. He held a rather thick book in his hands and would flip through the pages at a leisurely pace.

"What's that book about?" Artos asked, not being able to read the letters on its cover.

"Oh, right... you don't know the Nordic language, do you?" Egil smiled, sitting up as he put down the book on the table. "Would you like to learn, hmmmmm?"

"Hmm..."

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmm?"

"Hmmm..."

"Come now, it never hurts to know two languages. You see how it helped me find you, didn't it? Whenever you find yourself in the Kingdom of the Nords, you'd be able to converse with anyone you come across. Some people judge by appearance and act like you can't comprehend what they're saying... it's a useful trick for acting oblivious as well, in that regard."

"Is it a difficult language?"

"Depends if you have your wits about you or not. Do you, Artos Pendragon?"

Artos Pendragon furrowed his eyebrows before smiling slightly. "Sure, I'll give it a go."

"Right, so where do we begin..."

~

"Royal father, I've received a report stating that the village of chester was attacked by a wild group of Vikings." The crown prince, Aryan Pendragon, kneeled before the throne. "My brother's whereabouts are unknown but it's speculated that he was among those who were slaughtered."

"..." Charles Pendragon, the King of Eternia, frowned and made a sorrowed expression across his wrinkled face. "My son... killed by Vikings?"

"Yes, royal father. That is likely the case." Aryan Pendragon nodded solemnly before looking up at his father's darkened expression. "We need to take vengeance... even if it's a short skirmish. Those heathens need to be reminded of our great strength or else they'll get cocky again!"

"Vengeance... yes, the death of my son will not go unaccounted for!" Charles Pendragon stood up from the throne, albeit rather slowly. "In the chance that he is still alive, he will be returned to his rightful home."

"My son, you will gather an army of ten thousand men against the heathens. Burn down their villages, slaughter their people and crush their sinful armies near the border!"

"It will be done, father."

Aryan Pendragon secretly smirked as he stood up.

He had been waiting for this moment... the moment to truly prove himself as a capable successor.

'My little brother... you had some use, even if it was in your death.'

~

Six months had passed in the blink of an eye.

By now, Artos Pendragon had adapted to life in the village known as Hafr and had become decently popular amongst the locals. Despite being Christian and Eternian, they seemed to be rather accepting of his kind. According to Egil, due to thousands of years of the border changing, many of the villagers were mixed to some degree. It certainly helped that Artos Pendragon was a courteous young man who could be polite and helpful when he needed to be. On a wider scale, however, mixed bloods were looked down.

His view on all Vikings and Nords had subtly changed, although he would never admit it directly. Egil had taught him many things, from the Nordic language, their customs, culture, religion all the way to swordsmanship. Artos Pendragon's combat ability had improved a great deal throughout this time and he grew to be less frightened of Vikings... having lived with and been taught by one.

He naturally found himself using the words 'barbarian' and 'heathen' less and less in his mind.

While he was out trying to catch some fish, a Nordic village girl watched him... and not for the first time. Usually, he'd be silent and keep going without paying much heed. But, at this point, it was getting a little irritating.

Channelling his best Nordic tongue with a clear Eternian accent, he spoke with a rather noble tone.

"Girl... what do you want?"

'Did I say that right?' Artos Pendragon wondered in the depths of his mind.

"You can speak our tongue?"

Artos Pendragon turned around and took a closer look at the girl. She had fire-kissed red hair, a slim physique and a relatively pretty face. She seemed a few years older than him, looking roughly eighteen.

"What sound like? Taian?" Artos Pendragon cracked a little joke, although he wasn't exactly interested in the girl.

"Haha..." She giggled for a moment before standing up and descending on the wooden platform.

After silently observing him for several seconds, Artos Pendragon started to feel awkward. "What do you want?"

"How much would Egil be willing to sell you for?" She asked rather plainly as if slave trading was a common thing. "You are handsome."

"Me not for sale." Artos Pendragon denied, shaking his head. "Sorry... me no like."

'My skills in this language are still rather limited...'

"... And if I don't?"

"..." Artos Pendragon helplessly sighed. He didn't exactly have the status to act against anyone as he was a slave. If he did, not even Egil would be able to protect him. "I am sorry. Busy man."

'I'll just ignore the lass... can't be that difficult.'

Artos turned away and she chuckled, walking away.

~

"Artos, come here..." Egil gestured for him to come closer, stopping before a statue of Odin.

"Your chief God?" Artos Pendragon observed the statue and instantly recognised it.

"Yes... tell me, do you have any care for the Norse gods?" Egil wondered, stroking his beard. "If you say no, it's not an issue at all."

"I only believe in God." Artos Pendragon replied, shaking his head as he instinctively went to grab his cross... swiftly recalling that it was taken from him when he was beaten. "Odin, Thor and the like have no place in my faith."

"Fair... the Anzai have their own gods too. Did it ever cross your mind that these gods are all false idols and myths that we still worship because it is tradition?"

"What are you saying?" Artos Pendragon frowned slightly as he let go of his cross.

"What I'm saying is... have you ever seen any of these gods in person? Have they ever done anything? People do tell tales but those tales amount to nothing but lies mixed with hints of truth."

"..."

"What I'm trying to say is that... in truth, only one god exists for certain in this world. The War God." Egil's tone was rather mysterious, inciting interest within the younger Artos Pendragon.

"Everyone knows about his blessings and all the religions in the world have tried to make the War God into one of their own as a result. For example, in the case of Christianity, those blessed by the War God are seen as 'holy knights' sent by God. The War God is also believed to be your 'God' in the minds of Eternians."

"But... he blesses people from all four Kingdoms rather equally, does he not?"

"He does..." Artos Pendragon nodded, slowly raising an eyebrow. "But those are the devil's soldiers, tests for the holy knights-"

"He's no one's God... and everyone's god at the same time, or so it seems. Is it not clear to you, prince? You do not need to recite what your priests told you to believe." Egil chuckled, turning away from the statue of Odin. "So... in this world of chaos, do you still have faith in your benevolent God? Truly, in your heart and soul? Or are you just a sheep that does as others do?"

"..." Artos Pendragon imagined his cross as he frowned. "The priest always spoke of how this bloodied world is simply a test of character. Those who pass will see Heaven... and those who fail will wake to Hell. But..."

Tightening his grip, he recalled how his villagers had been slaughtered.

"What did they do to deserve... such a death?"

"No benevolent god exists, I can tell you that much." Egil looked towards the sky until a certain sound caught his attention. "... Ahh, the waterfall of chaos never stops flowing with blood."

"... Men on horseback are approaching-" Artos Pendragon glanced away from the statue of Odin and looked towards the forest to his right. "That flag... the flag of Eternia!"

"Hm, you wanted to test your skills in battle, did you not?" Egil turned around and ran towards his house.

However, after a few seconds, he noticed that Artos Pendragon wasn't moving. "Why are you not coming with me?"

"I will not fight my own people." Artos Pendragon frowned as he looked back at Egil. "I'm the thirteenth princ-"

"At the very least, pretend that you are playing your part in the defence of the village. You'll have a hard time even here if you refuse to partake in the village's defence."

"... I..."

Egil frowned at his hesitation, sighing.

"The world isn't black and white, just as there are barbaric Nords, there are barbaric Eternians. You don't have to fight in the name of the Nords but at least protect those that cared about you in this village. I won't drag you to my side, however... it is your choice."

Egil ran for his house at a steady pace before barging inside and grabbing his equipment. Meanwhile, five armed horsemen had come into view all of whom had their swords drawn. Once they had galloped close enough, their leader, a fully plated knight roared.

"Death to all heathens!!"

"I'm Artos Pendragon, the thirteenth prince of Eternia!-"

"HIS HIGHNESS WILL BE AVENGED!"

When the knight got close enough, Artos Pendragon spoke out but he was met with a slash of the knight's sword. Barely dodging the strike, Artos Pendragon's expression grew dire.

'Egil was right...'

He grit his teeth and admitted that his guardian had been right after all. He ran behind the statue of Odin and tactfully evaded the horsemen using the trees for cover. In the end, he wasn't their target... they were aiming to attack the village directly!

Or so he thought...

And so, as they galloped down to the village, Artos Pendragon started to witness a similar sight unfold. Only this time, instead of Eternian's being the victims... it was the Nords.

After the first five horsemen reached the village, roughly thirty infantrymen followed and marched down in an organised formation. If this was six months ago, Artos Pendragon would've welcomed this sight... but these Vikings... barbarians... Nords and whatever other name may be used for them...

He cared for some of them...

His heart couldn't allow it all to happen again.

...

He heard a horse galloping from behind him and he noticed that it was the very same knight who had attempted to slash him.

"What is your name, boy? Answer honestly."

"I'm Artos Pendragon, the thirteenth prince..."

"Oh... is that truly the case?" The knight dismounted, although he still held the longsword in his left hand. He took a closer look at Artos Pendragon before smiling behind his helmet. "Yes, you do look Eternian..."

"... Order them to stop the attack." Artos Pendragon's tone was authoritative and regal, moving the knight's heart slightly.

"The attack on these savages?" The knight tilted his head as he questioned, a bloodthirsty glare shining through his helmet. "No, why would you want that? The King and crown prince gave their command already. These heathens have to die... every last one of them. Even if you were, by some miracle, the thirteen prince, you cannot do a thing about it."

"But why... why do you have to murder innocents?"

"Why do they loot our lands, kill our men, rape and enslave our women, burn the places we call home? This is simply retaliation against the heathens!"

'If we keep retaliating against each other, will it ever end?'

The knight pretended to slash at him, making Artos Pendragon hesitate backwards.

He chuckled and turned back to his horse, mounting it.

"... DID YOU NOT HEAR ME, YOU LOWLY KNIGHT!? I ORDER YOU AND YOUR MEN TO CEASE!"

Artos Pendragon replied with all of his fury as if he were the thirteen prince again... but it was all for nought.

"Lowly knight? Boy... you want to die that badly? Even if you were the thirteenth prince, I can tell that his death would, in truth, please the Crown Prince... you're simply better off dead, aren't you? This invasion only began because of your death. And, if you were to be recovered... well, wouldn't the strongest reason for it end? We can't be having that."

"You can only blame yourself for being captured!"

The knight hurried his horse forward and raised his sword... preparing to slash at Artos Pendragon once again.

"You're making a mistake... knight."

Artos Pendragon's breathing grew heavier as the knight drew closer. He was ready to dash to the side.

"I am acting as His Highness Aryan Pendragon has ordered. To burn down this village and kill everyone who resides within it."

"Treacherous bastard..."

"Now stand still and accept death, 'Your Highness'!"

Gritting his teeth in anger, Artos Pendragon had dashed to the side, dodging the blow. He turned around and ran away as fast as he could.

Sheeeeew.

"Gah..."

The knight touched his neck... where an arrow had pierced right through. Blood flowed through his mouth as he dropped to the ground. When Artos Pendragon turned to see who had slain his aggressor, it was none other than Egil.

"My aim is still pretty good, huh..." Egil smiled as he walked towards the knight and looked at the shocked Artos Pendragon.

"This knight's armour wasn't perfectly guarding his neck... poor child. May he find better armour in your heaven, eh?" Egil glanced at Artos Pendragon who was in a confused state. "What's wrong, you can't accept the truth that not all Eternian's are holy knights? You see the truth now... don't you?"

"I've seen it with my very eyes." Artos Pendragon retracted his steps before he found himself standing over the knight. "I once thought that Eternia was my beautiful homeland and every other Kingdom was my opposition. Full of warmongers, barbarians and heathens who had to be wiped off the face of our world. But, in truth... it's nowhere near that simple."

He looked down at the knight with a face of disgust.

"Or rather... that's what I was taught." Artos' eyes widened slightly as he acknowledged the truth. 'It's what everyone in Eternia was taught since they were children.'

"Oh... so you will fight for us Vikings then?"

"I will... for this battle." Artos Pendragon grabbed the knight's longsword and its scabbard as he looked down on the distant village. "But not for the Kingdom of the Vikings..."

"Hmm?" Egil raised an eyebrow, observing him to be shaking a little.

"I will fight for the innocent people of this village... for the ones that cared about me... the ones that live peacefully. I will protect them. They don't deserve what happened... in chester."

"It's alright." Egil pat his shoulder, managing a smile. "I know it must be difficult for you but it is the right thing to do."