"Get up!" ordered Vladd. Prince Alvic Wolff was crouching aganist the furnace of a ground on his one knee, with his sword still glued to his hand, as droplets of sweat dripped off his forehead onto the grilling hot marbled ground. His hands, after days and hours of training, were full of blisters and swollen. He was effortly trying to crawl himself up to his feet.
Vladd cast a pitiful gaze at him. The boy,a crown prince,was trying his hardest but not quite enough for his old man who was watching down below on them from the palace balcony. He held his daughter, princess Annia,in a cuddle. Like before, playful,her hands were deep inside her father's hairy chin. His face turned warm and cold when casting gazes at both his offsprings.
The little bundle of his happiness let out a giggle as she fidgeted with her papa's beard, with the king's face turning warm on seeing her so rosy and merrily. His grin was bright enough to rival the mighty sun for it's throne.
"Get up!" Vladd barked again. He knew he was being watched. They both were. He needed to drill him further than he was showing. It was only two days since they begun the gruesome training. But he was a frail young boy. With no muscles as a foundation for his sword training.
How could he all of sudden become a full fledged swordsman. It took years for many of the great swordmen in the kingdom and beyond,to attain Mastery over it. He has to push him to the brink of death. For he was always watching each and every time he was training. The student, prince Alvic Wolff,was struggling to get on his feet. His body was becoming heavier on him. And his breath was forced. His body was loosing a lot of moisture, with his gob drying out.
"I said get up! When are you going to cease grovelling on the ground like a runt,"Vladd, scornfully,berated him. His words pierced Alvic Wolff's heart fast and hard. His rage was building up deep inside. His insatiable rage.
Those words also reached his father. He was gladdening in it. He hoped for a miracle to happen anytime soon. A mistimed attack or swing of sort to cleave his son in half. He never hid his loathe for him.
Since from that day,when he had nearly stolen away from him the only person he ever found joy in,he grew to hate his very own blood with an insatiable spirit . How could he love him after such a heinous act against his own mother!His wife and queen. He couldn't bring himself to forgiving him despite the queen's plea's. But she, unlike her husband's, couldn't bring herself to loathing him. He was her son,after all. Their bond between them was stronger to be severed by just one moment of jealousness. And here he was fighting against those same feeling that had being consuming him ever since her birth. But why did he have these depressing feeling raging in his heart. Was he the bad person as they saw him to be. Everything to him was a void of hollowness. His pain was immeasurable to a mere merchants scale.
But he couldn't understand the pain he was going through. His own father, someone who was supposed to be there for him in turbulent times and who would lend him a crying shoulder to lay his weary head on,was now the very person who despised him the most; his very own son and heir to the throne. He was paining while he merrily devoured in his misery. If only time was as changeable as the flow of water,he could gladly have changed everything from that unfortunate day. To erase that despicable of a person that dared call himself a loving son. From doing the one thing that was tormenting him to unimaginable anguish.
Wobbling,he rose on his feet. Sweat continued to drip down on the scorching ground as the sun brimmed with a hint of annoyance. Vladd stared at him. His knees were buckling under the sheer pain of exertion. As for him,he had barely broken a drop of sweat. It was to be a long way for Alvic Wolff to mastering the ways of a swordsman.
Without warning, Vladd sprung forward aiming his sword at him. Taken by surprise, Alvic Wolff gingerly raised his sword high to defend himself from the incoming attack. Vladd ragefully swung his sword, raising it above and over his head cutting the very hot moistured air in halves. Alvic Wolff, scared for his dear life, was ruffling like a leaf trapped into an ever ending whirlwind. His eyes were screaming. That he wanted to be saved from the hell he was being forced to endure.
From the shackles called his father. Vladd brought down his sword like a bolt of lightning, hitting Alvic Wolff's sword with a deafening clanging growling aloud.
Now Alvic Wolff was back to where he had struggled to crawl himself up from. The force of Vladd's swing was strong each to cleave his sword into two. He now held only the hilt part of the sword in his hand. Shattered pieces of his blade lay in between his opened legs. His retreat from a full Vladd's swing was all but in vain. A slash from tip of Vladd's blade had managed to slice through into the right eyed part of his face, cleaving from the forehead down to his cheek. Blood splattered down to the parched ground, as the tip of Vladd's blade dripped with his blood. Awkwardly, Vladd's was curious how he was fairing.
"Prince Alvic Wolff,are you okay?!" he inquired. He wasn't,that was evident. He was reeling from unimaginable pain,he couldn't continue in the state he was in. The graze needed to be attended too.
"Of course not!" he retorted. He held his hand on his grazed face with the blood slithering out in streams.
"My prince,let me help you to your feet,"Vladd offered,stretching out his hand.One look at his face was enough to scary a weak hearted person for life. He was grimacing in pain and rage, while his blood steamed on the ground. It didn't escape Vladd's eye. Since that day,he had grown curious of him. Of the strangeness of his hate,and blood. Just as Alvic Wolff had fallen on his back, quickly without anyone noticing,he quickly touched his blood. Alvic Wolff's blood burned with a hellish sensation .It was painful but he bore. He couldn't come to a reasonable thought of how his blood burnt and yet he was just a boy. Something wasn't adding up.
"I don't need your help, servant," he replied, scathingly. Vladd retracted his hand back on seeing his help wasn't needed. But who could blame him. He was angry at him and everyone else, that is.
The only one person who once made him feel whole and alive was long dead. Stolen from him. He was missing her behind his facade of rage. She was wholly being missed by everyone; from her grieving king to the beggars on the reeking streets of the capital. But nothing could change the fact that she was forever departed from them. Yet her very soul lived amongst those who cared not to forget her. It continued to live on,for even in death a person very much lives and breaths if one isn't forgotten or erased from the hearts and minds of the people who treasured fond memories of her. It was comforting for them. To remember of how good she had been to them. A queen of all people.
Feebly, Alvic Wolff rose up bleeding now more profusely. The ground he was standing on was smeared with his own blood. The deep reddish blood smeared like a painting. His father watched down on him curiously as to how he would crawl himself out from the precarious situation.
The apple of his eye was now sound asleep. Silently,she slithered into a adorable sleeping pose striking his heart into a fluster.
"My prince," Vladd muttered." Shall we continue or break for respite?" He sneered at him spitefully. His sword was broken into two,of course they need a break. With the sun ever fierce,a gulp of cold water would work wonders for them. The palace guards dared not mock their prince or even let out a gasp of laughter for their own sake and families. They had been watching closely on the training and they knew how far the prince journey had to take before Mastering the art of swordsmanship.
" Let's take a break. I'm parched dry,"Alvic Wolff moaned. Weakened by the torturous training,still bleeding,he dropped his remaining thing of a sword to the ground, while dragging his feet to a shade. Vladd bent his torso downwards, where Alvic Wolff had fallen,to collect the pieces of the broken sword, also with the hilt part of it. The king was nowhere to be seen. He had retreated to the coolness of the palace walls and to lay his sleeping treasure to her crib. There her wet nurse took over the responsibility of taking care for her. He stressingly reminded her of so or else she would face his wrath. Unsurprisingly,she was scared for her life,for residing in the unbreathable palace. It was suffocating her to death,if I may say so.
Alvic Wolff walked over to a tree nearby that had soft mowed grass, falling on top of it in a huge heap. On falling down,stinging sounds ringed like clanging of swords deep within his ears while his eyes were struggling from falling asleep. His legs were numb and heavy as well and the palms of his hand riddled with blisters. His whole body was aching and shriveling out like a parched leaf. Water was needed to rejuvenate his withering body. But he couldn't muster a sap of strength to get it for himself. His body was crying out for water. Nor could he utter a word to the servants those near him. To order them for a goblet of water. And without knowing it,he slithered himself to sleep.
Deep in dreams,he was drowning in a river.His deafening cries for help were not reaching out to his servants,his subjects those nearby. His pleas for help were hitting an invicible wall.They couldn't reach them. Choking on the swallowed water, he begun to sink like a sledgehammer deep below the consuming water. The light in front of him was slowly fading away. Death had finally and desperately come for him,as his eyes bade their last goodbye's, slowly as they began to close, resigned to the unfortunate cruel fate.Only that it was just but a dream.A nightmarish dream which he feared feverishly, awaking wet and shivering. Vladd stood infront of him, with an empty pail hanging loosely in his hand. His whole body was drenched in water. Alvic Wolff stared at him, confused and lost. He stood right there menacingly, invoking fear in him.
"Rise up! We continue with your training," he said, seriously. Saying what he wanted to say,he threw the pail away from his sight. Alvic Wolff rose up, with water dripping from his head to his frail body. Soon after , Vladd stood on the same spot that they were before, holding onto two swords in his hands.
Alvic Wolff feebly walked towards him, shivering and still thirsty. He remembered that a drop of water had yet to touch his parching tongue. No matter,he couldn't turn chicken infront them. He was their prince, after all. They needed to see his mettle with their very own two eyes. He stood there gazing at Vladd's eyes,without batting an eyelid. Vladd got wind of the message he was sending to him. That he was done cowering in fear. And that he was going to be serious going forward henceforth,he wasn't bending a knee anymore. He couldn't help but let a chuckle betray him as he threw one of the sword for him to catch. Like a well versed swordsman, Alvic Wolff grabbed it while in the air and more astonishingly by it's hilt. All more impressive for his Master.
"Are you ready to go again?" asked Vladd. Alvic Wolff smirked on hearing him ask such a laughable question. Hell he was ready to go another round. As a matter of fact,he was relishing it. The very essence of swinging his sword against his was unfathomable. His blood was boiling up. To smearing this man's blood all over the ground.
"Of course I'm... but are you?!" he inquired, smirking. It was so visible for him to see it. His aura of rage. He was trying hard to mask it. But it couldn't escape Vladd's eye. His lust for blood. Not any random person's blood but his very own. This fight promises to be entertaining,he thought. "I'm always ready, young prince," Vladd replied. Again,he smirked confident with himself. Slowly they retreated backwards,to open up the space for themselves to charge on . Having walked a considerable steps behind,they stopped abruptly with the space between them manageable for launching their attacks.
After being satisfied with it, they both took on their fighting stances,as the palace guards cast a curious gaze ,with a black lonesome raven perching on the tip of the tower. They all waited for one of them or both to swing first. An intimidating atmosphere cloaked around them. Palace guards glued their eyes as both fighters,a prince and a captain, stood infront of each, ready to lock horns once again.
Alvic Wolff was the one to swing his sword first. He couldn't keep the beast,deep within him from rampaging,on a short leash anymore. In rage,he surged forward, shouting as Vladd stood glued to his spot, waiting for him to teach him a valuable lesson of being respectful to his Master. On the charge,Alvic Wolff drew his sword back just above his shoulder to create chamber for a full blast swing. His Master was on the defense,this time round,as Alvic Wolff swung his sword with all his remaining might, hitting Vladd's blade. An explosive clanging of their swords and growls echoed within the entire fortified courtyard walls. The burst of their growls startled the curious bird, flying away screeching in haste, after being frightened out of it's wits.
"You're still wet behind the ears,my prince. If you wish to make me bleed with just your first swing of an attack,then you have to try even harder," Vladd sneered at him. It was expected of him as the king's guard. Being hit on the first strike would've tanished his image and reputation. And Alvic Wolff knew it so well. He was expecting him to be as tougher as the king's guard.
" Huh! Ha-ha-ha-ha...I couldn't help it but try. You can't blame me for trying, can you?"Alvic Wolff replied, feebly laughing,with both there swords embracing on each other.
" I suppose not..my prince,"answered Vladd,as they both dashed back to open up a more fitting distance between themselves. It was mid-day and while everyone in the kingdom was thinking of what they were going to eat,these two were thinking of many ways to cleave each other in halves to satisfy their raging flesh.
Both of them flunged forward,sweating and shouting,swinging their swords in the raging heat and the clanging of their swords echoed all the more loudly, roaring even into the almost cloudless skies, where the sun continued to ravage all more fiercely.
The lonesome raven, frightened by the groaning and grunting, beating it's down black wings thunderously,flew off cawing, down to the capital in search of something or someone,to where the peasants of the capital broke hot sweat in their pursuit of salvaging and rebuilding of their once proud humble homes.
Loud banging of hammers aganist the nails and the chattering of the people's flooded the devastated part of the capital. Men and women were busy in resurrecting their homes and work places. The beggars alike too went on about in rummaging through the reeling capital, seeking anything of worth;for selling or eating. Everyone was busy in their endeavours,taking part in their own small share in the healing.
Despite the heavy labouring, like beasts of burdens,they were still hopeful of a better future ahead of them,for as long as the sun shone, the flames of hope would still flicker even in a cold night.