Kingdom of Zuland, The South Border, Present day.
Everything was dark, distant mumbles grew louder.
"How in the world am I supposed to know?"
"Well you always spout off about how much you know."
Xeto opened his groggy eyes only to be met with a curtain of darkness and the smell of rotted fruit. Something was placed over his head; it was wet with a rancid odor. Where am I? He attempted to move but was stopped by rough rope that bound his hands and ankles together.
"Maybe you should ask Giase he—well well, look who's awake." The voice had a tint of satisfaction behind it.
A blinding assault of light washed over Xeto as the tarp was removed. He met with two large blurs that took the shape of Zuland soldiers as his eyes adjusted to what looked to be a torchlight-filled room. It held no furniture to speak of, only countless racks of empty wine bottles.
"Good day to you, Loradian. How was your rest?" said the first soldier mockingly. He wore pompous smile and a basic red tunic with silver armor. "What's wrong? We haven't cut out your tongue just yet." He scratched at his dry blonde hair. "No, we wanted to wait for you to be awake for that."
Xeto felt a stinging pain at his temple. "Where am I?" he said with a venom.
"We'll be the ones asking the questions," answered the other soldier. His face was covered by a dome-shaped helmet though it did little to hide the man's yellow-toothed smile. "It's awfully boring up here in the keep, so you'll be keeping us adrift of that boredom."
Xeto chuckled. "Brave. Both of you. Such large mouths… they'd better filled with my boot. Undo these bounds and we'll see how daring you feel."
"You fucking runt." The helmed soldier landed a heavy kick into his gut.
Xeto groaned aloud as the pain slowly spread from his midsection. "Strike a nerve, did I?"
The fat helmed man drew his foot back once more. "I'll—"
"That's enough, Gwendal," said a voice from behind the men. A second later the man behind the voice appeared from a dark doorway at the room's end.
Xeto directed his glare to the newcomer. He felt a lump in his throat, he had seen this man before. He reached for every memory at his disposal but was unable to name the man or where he had seen him, if at all.
"You two, leave us." The man waved them away.
"Yes, Giase." Like obedient dogs they sauntered out of the room without question.
Xeto spat on the floor. "You call yourselves knights, that's amusing. Nothing but halfwits in armor."
"Nothing but insults, have you boy?" said Giase.
Xeto gritted his teeth. "Untie me and you'll be privy to what else I have."
The man eyed him with a bland expression. He leaned down and pointed at the ribbons on his chest. "I'm not a knight, I'm a General. It overshadows commanders like you."
"What?"
"Surprised, boy? Don't be." He presented Xeto's badge to him, a steel emblem in the shape of a wolf. "Commander Xeto Alcazar." He dropped the emblem to the stone floor, its clanks echoed across the room. "Would you like to tell me why a Demon-Hunt knight was treading over to my lands?"
"Doing my duty."
"Ah yes, of course. As by which you mean killing my troops?
Xeto rolled his eyes. "Pfft."
"We caught wind of a Loradel unit that slaughtered our men. Take it that was you, boy? Can't believe King Ryker sent his Lionslayer for just you. What a waste.
Xeto's ears grew warm. Lionslayer? "So now you're weaponizing demons? You all really are soulless."
Giase paced across the small room, his shadow engulfed the room in darkness every time he walked in front of the torch. "Such a weak mind. You have to know how to grasp power and opportunity when it falls to you." He stopped and sighed. "Shame…someone talented as yourself rotting behind bars. Why can't you see what could be?"
"What would that be?"
"One nation, free of malice. Under the command of a one true king." He paused and rubbed at his chin. "Yes…a true king."
"Wait…so that's what Zuland wants—to start a civil war. And the Lionslayer is your new weapon to ensure that."
"Precisely." Giase walked for the exit. "Princess Sara herself will arrive in the coming days. I will make a gift of you to her. I'm sure she'd like to meet the man responsible for killing her men." He grinned before leaving the room.
Xeto strained as he attempted to pull free from his bindings. The ropes didn't loosen, but rather began to numb his wrists. It came to him suddenly. Aura. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. His heart skipped a beat as nothing came to him. Why can't I conjure? Of course, the room must have had runes to stop magic. Fuck. He looked around the room for something to revive his spirits for escape. On the floor had empty wine bottles, if he could simply shatter one, he could cut himself free.
Small taps echoed outside of the room.
Xeto smiled inwardly. That was it! An incoming storm. He never believed in religion, in the gods or the goddess. But now he begged for thunder to follow behind the rain. Something to cover the attempt of his escape.
Minutes became what seemed like hours. The blanket of heavy rain bore down on the keep, giving no sign of thunder.
Xeto closed his eyes and envisioned the bright web of light in his mind; a lightning strike wide enough to ensnare the entire sky. Come now. The image of Petra forced its way into his thoughts. He felt a lump in his throat, a sensation of disgust that forced him to grind his teeth. Why wasn't he able to stop it? How could allow someone to die in such a way. To allow Anaria to have to witness another death firsthand. He was going to make them pay, these were no humans, these were monsters. One by one, he would kill them all, nothing could spare them from justice now.
A loud rumble roared outside of the keep; thunderclaps seem to shake the very walls around him. This was his moment.
With a bright flame of anger in his chest he swung his body to one side, his armor clanked aloud as he hit the floor. The rotting smell of algae assaulted his nose as his cheek pressed up against the freezing cold stone. He stopped and listened for some sort of reaction from the outside.
The orchestra of rain and thunder grew louder.
Xeto dragged himself across the rough floor until he felt the familiar shape of a bottle. He took a tight grip around the neck and slammed it onto the ground.
Luckily the roaring rain overshadowed the shatter of glass.
He slid his hand lightly across the shards, careful not to cut himself. He felt a shard the size of his palm. With sweaty hands he took hold of it and began to cut at the ropes. His hands grew warmer as the binding loosened. He felt the rush of blood circulate into his hands which allowed him to cut faster. With his hands free he quickly leaned up and made short work of the rope at his ankles. Now I just have to find my sword. He leaned against wall beside the exit and knocked on the heavy door. He flexed his fingers, ready for what followed.
The door swung open. "What's that then?" The wide helmed soldier, Gwendal stepped into the light of the room. "What?" he exclaimed. "Where's—"
Xeto came out from behind the door and wrapped his arm around the man's trunk of a neck.
Gwendal gagged as he tried to pry his fingers under Xeto's grip.
"Like that?" said Xeto in a hushed growl. "Having trouble spitting insults now, dog?"
Gwendal kicked and flailed his arms as his face turned bloated and red. Saliva foamed at his mouth before dripping onto the ground. In a matter of seconds his struggle came to an end as he fell unconscious.
Xeto struggled to hold the man's weight, but he had to make sure to hold just a bit longer, enough to confirm the bastard would no longer abuse of anyone ever again. Satisfied, he let gravity take over and let the body topple to the ground. He stepped into the poorly lit hallway and found his sword leaned against the wall. He treaded softly through the dark corridors. The storm would cover his footsteps well, all he had to do was remain in the shadows. He picked up a handgun that was atop a table, its only companions were a few bullets, and an unlit candle. He held it firmly. The weight of the magicarm was satisfying as he aimed it down the poorly lit hallway.
His next target was the Lionslayer, if any more soldiers got in his way, they'd meet the same fate as Gwendal.