The chariot raced through the village. The misery was driven out of the villager's face. It was a winter afternoon it happened. The tyrant lay dead in his own castle. There was a calm snowfall.
"Who were they? Did you figure it out?" asked the old charioteer. The old butler. His voice was deep and one that shows respect.
"There were 15 of them." the boy replied calmly, his hand was spinning his still sheathed sword.
"And did you kill them all?"
"I had to. One of them was a nobel."
"You killed a nobel demon?". The old man looked behind at him with a littile surprise.
"That's what he claimed to be." said the boy. The old man looked forward focusing on the foggy road. The mist made it really hard to see.
"He wasn't one. Not even close." Continued the boy, "He had developed a healing ability tough. He was not at a nobel level whatsoever. He was the one who lead the whole group of bandits."
"Why didn't you take the rest of the crew?"
"I didn't felt the need to. They turned out to be weak anyway, so that does not matter. I asked them to take care of the village. They must be following us now.". He looked outside the window to check and they indeed were following.
There was nither mercy or arrogance in his voice. He spoke in a calm tone, his eyes looked sleepy.
The old man nodded. "Did he weild magic?"
"He didn't, I think. Yet his strength was pitiful." he smiled, "But I think he did hold magic. What he didn't have was time."
A long silence followed their conversation. One that remained till they reached home.
______
As the chariot passed through the castle gate heads began to bow. It was a huge castle. It rose so high in the air, it could've been seen from miles away. The castle was made with strong stones and had a menecing look.
The flag hoisted higher than the castle. It was again a enormous flag. The flag that represented the unity and devotion of the Demons to their place. A place they called home.
The gates flung open and a throne rose up above. There were three thrones. One for the King and the second for the Queen and a third for their Prince.
A voice resounded across the whole room out of the guards mouth who was standing in front of the throne,
"Hail the King! Hail the Queen!" he turned towards the throne and put a closed fist on his chest. He looked up and then down again, and then he kneeled. Then he was silent.
There were 13 seats in the court of demons. All of them got up and looked towards the throne, and then bowed.
A step emerged from the curtains beside the throne. The Queen San on her throne, she did not wear her crown. Her hairs were white. They were not grey nor the white that comes from old age. They were just white. She wore a demon royal dress. A black dress of the most elegant fabrics and with the purple, rare outlines. She had a strange beauty.
Here face seemed menecing. She sat on her throne. There was half a minute of silence. The courtiers stayed silent and yet were bowing, and then the queen's face turned a kind of childish. She sighed
"Y'all can get up" she said. "The king won't be coming for a while."
The couriers looked up and then got up. They took their seats and then bowed their heads again in respect. No one said anything. There was again an awkward scilence that followed. Then a sharp v-shape appered on the queen's head.
She muttered something. Probably about not getting enough respect of her.
A cold breeze entered the castle and the queen's hair flew in the air, a smile appeared on her face. Then a figure stepped in trough the court gate. The Queen looked up to see who it was.
"Ah, Blackbane !" said the queen. "I had waited your return. Has he come?"
The charioteer-butler, Blackbane kneeled and bowed with utmost respect. He smiled slightly but it couldn't be seen. His head was down. He looked up to answer the queen.
"Yes. Yes he has."
To the 'yes' by Blackbane, the queen's eye shone brightly. Her black eyes had a star shining in her eye.
"Where is he?" she almost shouted, tough not in any type of anger bit quite an exitement.
"I'm here" someone whispered in the queen's ear.
The courtiers put a fist to their chest and bowed. They all said in a chorus,
"Hail the prince!"
The Queen looked at him. She was not surprised, she just smiled. They both just looked in each other's eyes. The queen's face reflected in the princes eyes. Her eyes were black. The kind of black that absorbed even the images formed on it.
"It's just been a week." he said.
"A long week." she replied
______
The next day of his return was his birthday. There was a feast aranged on the day. It was a grand celebration. It was the prince's 15th birthday. This was the first big celebration of his birthday since his birth.
The prince had executed multiple tasks for the kingdom at this point. He had started just at the age of 9. He had grown merciless. An exemplary boy, they called him. That's not it. He had more names. More than they could've kept track of.
Even though performed all these tasks he had not grown very famous. That is why it was hard to know what name he was given. Many of his missions were done either alone or anonymously. Somehow.
----------
Guests had been called from all across. There were nobels and royals; wizards and mages; there were hero's and many important personalities. It had been a magnificent site.
The prince was not dressed in his royal dress for he only used it in the court. He did not talk much. Some even forgot his voice. He was just sitting calmly on his throne with his mother. She left in a moment.
Blackbane slowly climbed the stairs to the throne and gave a bow to his prince. They did not talk for a while.
"You don't seem to like this." asked Blackbane.
He nodded in a 'No' and then looked at Blackbane with one eye.
"How can I enjoy my own birthday Blackbane? It's just that I'm not used to it -"
A voice cut him out. It was of the king. The deep, calm and heavy voice of his father. He was standing on the stage and seemed to be wanting to announce something. This was not good for the prince.
His hairs were the darkest shade of black but there were still a few gray hairs among them. He had a towering hight. And he, like hai wife, did not wear his crown.
"Greeting everyone" he said with just a slight exitement. "I would like to call upon my son to the stage before I proceed. Miden, would you come up here."
He said that with a sly smile. He looked up at the prince. His face did not show any emotion but he was growing a tendency for mass murder deep in hiis mind. He looked up at Blackbane and then to the stage and then walked up the stage.
There were whispers going trough the crowd as most of the people who had met the prince were demons. Many of the angels and humans were still in wonder.
The king handed Miden a price of paper, a letter. He opened it and his eyes widened. He looked up at his father tough not in surprise. His father gave a smile.
"My son, Miden Abyssheart, has been selected to attend Almagica."
"Almagica" reapeted the prince.