Episode 8: Crossing Blades
Valdora moved swiftly through the stone corridors of the castle, his boots tapping against the marble floor as he made his way toward the eastern passage. The king's soldiers were everywhere, rushing past him in a blur of steel and desperation. But none of them would find Mathius. Valdora knew that much. Mathius was far too clever to be caught so easily.
The air in the castle was thick with tension, the stench of fear lingering after the battle between Drakoth and Barola. Valdora's mind raced as he tried to figure out where Mathius could be hiding. He was close. He could feel it.
Just as Valdora rounded a corner, he spotted a shadow slipping through a narrow door at the far end of the hallway. Without hesitation, he sprinted after it, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Mathius!" he called out.
The shadow paused, and then, slowly, Mathius stepped out of the dimly lit passageway, his face shrouded in darkness. He was calm, almost amused.
"Ah, Valdora," Mathius said with a smirk. "I was wondering when you'd catch up. Took you long enough."
Valdora drew his sword, the steel glinting in the low light. "You're not leaving the city, Mathius. I won't let you."
Mathius chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Valdora, you're as noble as ever. Always trying to do the right thing. Always trying to save people. But don't you see? You can't save them. Not with your father on the throne."
Valdora's grip on his sword tightened, his jaw clenched. "I know my father isn't perfect, but that doesn't mean I'll turn against him. Not for you."
Mathius stepped closer, his tone softening, almost as if he were trying to reason with a child. "I know you care about the people, Valdora. I've seen how you look at the commoners, how you bristle at the way your father treats them. The racism, the tyranny... it eats at you, doesn't it? You want to free them, to give them the life they deserve."
Valdora hesitated, his sword wavering for a moment. "What are you saying?"
Mathius's smile widened, sensing the crack in Valdora's resolve. "I'm saying that we want the same thing. The difference is, I'm willing to do what it takes. I'm not bound by some false sense of honor. Join me, Valdora. Together, we can tear down this broken system and build something new. A world where the people are free. Where beasts and humans are equal."
For a moment, Valdora faltered. Mathius's words struck at the very core of what he believed. He had always wanted to change Dacrotas, to make it a better place for everyone. Could Mathius truly help him achieve that? Could they overthrow his father's oppressive rule?
But then, something stirred deep within him. A low, guttural growl resonated in his mind. Drakoth.
The golden-scaled beast was communicating with him through their shared bond, its thoughts slipping into Valdora's mind like whispers carried on the wind.
"He lies, Valdora," Drakoth's voice growled. "He does not seek freedom. He seeks control. He would enslave both beast and man."
Valdora blinked, his vision clearing as the fog of doubt lifted from his mind. Mathius wasn't offering freedom. He was offering another form of tyranny.
Valdora's grip on his sword steadied, and his eyes hardened. "No, Mathius. I know what you are now. You're worse than my father. You don't want to free the people—you want to enslave them. And the beasts, too."
Mathius's smirk faltered for the briefest of moments before he quickly regained his composure. "Such harsh words," he said lightly, though there was an edge to his voice. "But it seems you've made your choice."
Without warning, Valdora lunged forward, his sword aimed directly at Mathius's chest. Mathius reacted with lightning-fast reflexes, drawing his twin blades in a flash of steel. He crossed them in front of him, blocking Valdora's strike with a sharp clang.
"Is that the best you've got?" Mathius taunted, spinning away and slashing at Valdora's side.
Valdora barely managed to parry the blow, gritting his teeth as their swords clashed again and again. Mathius fought with a fluid grace, his twin swords moving like an extension of his body. Valdora, though skilled, was outmatched. Mathius was faster, stronger—and far more experienced in combat.
"You've always been too soft, Valdora," Mathius said, his voice dripping with mockery as he blocked another of Valdora's strikes and spun around, delivering a quick slash to his opponent's leg. "You fight like a man who's afraid to win."
Valdora winced as the blade grazed his leg, but he pushed through the pain, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Mathius ducked beneath the strike effortlessly, driving the hilt of one of his swords into Valdora's stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
Valdora stumbled back, gasping for breath. "I fight for the people," he growled, lunging forward again.
Mathius sidestepped the attack and caught Valdora's sword with one of his own, twisting it out of his hand in a fluid motion. Valdora's sword clattered to the floor, and before he could react, Mathius had his blade pressed against Valdora's throat.
For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Valdora's heart pounded in his chest as he stared up at Mathius, fully expecting the end.
But Mathius didn't strike.
Mathius pressed the edge of his sword against Valdora's throat, the sharp steel biting into his skin as he leaned closer, a strange mix of admiration and malice in his gaze. "I've always admired you, Valdora," he said, his voice low and almost wistful. "Despite being a kid, you have the spirit of a leader and art of a master swordsman. If only you were my son..."
Valdora's heart raced, the unexpected sentiment catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Mathius's intense gaze. "I would never want to be your son," he shot back defiantly. "I'd rather die than follow you."
Mathius's smirk widened, unfazed by the rejection. "But we're not so different, you and I. You crave power just as much as I do. Don't deny it. The nobles see you as nothing more than a pawn, and when you failed to earn your father's respect, you turned to this... rebellion. It's not about the people for you, Valdora. It's about control."
Valdora's grip on his sword faltered, his resolve shaking at Mathius's words. Could it be true? Was he simply pursuing power disguised as justice? Doubt seeped in, and he felt the sting of Mathius's accusations resonate deep within him.
"You don't know me," Valdora replied, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I fight for the people, not for power."
Mathius's eyes glinted with cold amusement. "Oh, but I do know you. You just want to be acknowledged. When you failed to get your father's attention, you found yourself a new gig. Don't pretend the commoners matter to you; in your eyes, they're the same as the nobles—just tools to help you gain what you desire."
Valdora's chest tightened, the weight of Mathius's words suffocating him. He trembled slightly, fury battling with the undeniable truth that lingered in the air between them. "You're wrong," he insisted, though his voice wavered. "I want to change things."
Mathius leaned in closer, his voice a chilling whisper. "You might want to change things, but you're no different than the me. Power drives you. That's why I won't kill you now. You still have a role to play in my plans."
Before Valdora could respond, Mathius's hand shot out, striking him hard on the side of the head. Valdora's vision blurred, the world spinning as he staggered back. He tried to raise his arms, to defend himself, but his strength was fading. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision.
As he collapsed to the floor, consciousness slipping away, he heard Mathius's voice one last time, distant and cold. "You can't die yet, Valdora. You still have some use in my plan."
And then, everything went black.
Back in the throne room, the king stood with his generals, his face twisted in fury. "Find Mathius," he growled. "Turn this city upside down if you have to."
The court was in chaos. Ministers scrambled to distance themselves from the treachery, trying to avoid the king's wrath, while soldiers poured out of the palace, searching every street and alley.
As the army moved out to scour the city, Drakoth lay coiled by the king's side, its serpentine eyes glowing faintly, still connected to Valdora somewhere deep within the castle. The air was thick with tension, the scent of blood and fear lingering in the halls.
As Valdora lay unconscious, Mathius took a brief moment to glance down at him. "Such a waste of potential," he muttered under his breath. He wiped the blood from his twin swords and sheathed them. Time was running out. The king's soldiers were already swarming the castle like ants, and soon, they'd be locking down the gates.
He moved quickly, slipping through the maze of corridors with the ease of someone who knew every hidden path. Reaching a small, unassuming door in the eastern wing, Mathius knocked lightly—three quick taps, followed by two slow ones. The door creaked open, revealing Loran, the royal stablemaster.
"Late, aren't we?" Loran grumbled, though his eyes betrayed his nervousness.
Mathius flashed him a sharp grin. "Just making sure the court stays entertained. You got the horse?"
Loran nodded, leading Mathius to a narrow passageway that wound around the outskirts of the palace. The sound of hooves echoed softly from the stables ahead.
"We both know I never saw you," Loran muttered, keeping his head low as they reached a black steed saddled and ready. "And remember your promise."
"Don't worry," Mathius replied, his voice smooth. "Your son will be back before you know it. Just keep quiet, and no one will ever suspect you."
Loran didn't respond, his face tight with anxiety, but he helped Mathius up onto the horse. With a sharp nod, Mathius dug his heels into the horse's side, urging it forward through the narrow gate behind the stables.
The castle grounds stretched out before him, the tall walls of the palace looming like a fortress behind him. But those walls wouldn't be able to contain him—not tonight.
As he rode through the shadows, Mathius approached the outer city wall. A section near the southern gate had long been under repair, hidden behind scaffolding and heavy cloths. It was the perfect place to slip out unnoticed, and it had been arranged by none other than Eddrick, one of the loyal servants of Mathius.
Eddrick, waiting by the scaffolding, greeted him with a quick nod, his hands trembling slightly. "All set, my lord. This way."
Mathius dismounted and handed the reins to Eddrick. "Good. Keep the horse and disappear. You've served me well, Eddrick. If anyone asks, you never saw me."
Eddrick glanced nervously at the towering walls behind them, his eyes darting around. "Of course, my lord. Of course."
Without another word, Mathius ducked beneath the scaffolding and slipped through the gap in the wall, emerging on the other side where the dark forest loomed in the distance, just beyond the edges of the city.
The streets were eerily quiet, most of the city unaware of the chaos that had unfolded in the palace. Mathius moved swiftly, avoiding the patrols and slipping through the back alleys like a ghost. His contacts had arranged for a cart to be waiting for him at the far edge of the city.
As he approached the cart, parked under the shadow of a low-hanging tree, he spotted the final accomplice in his escape: Jared, a portly man with a crooked grin who had been a merchant before becoming a middleman for black market deals. Jared gave a wide smile when he saw Mathius approach.
"Thought you weren't gonna make it," Jared chuckled, his breath heavy with the smell of ale. "Got your passengers all packed up."
Mathius glanced at the cart's covered back, where 25 unconscious townsfolk lay hidden under burlap. "Good. Let's move."
Jared hopped onto the driver's seat and cracked the reins, the cart lurching forward as they made their way toward the city's edge. They passed through the last gates, the guards barely giving the cart a second glance, assuming it was a simple merchant's late-night delivery.
Once they were clear of the gates, Mathius exhaled a quiet breath of relief, but he didn't let his guard down. Not yet. The forest loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but it was the perfect place to disappear. By the time the king's soldiers realized he was gone, he would be miles into the wilderness, where they wouldn't dare follow.
Mathius looked back at the city one last time, a slow smile spreading across his face. The king may have thought he had won the day, but this was only the beginning. The real game was about to begin, and soon, all of Dacrotas would be his for the taking.
As the cart disappeared into the shadows of the forest, the kingdom slept on, unaware of the storm that was brewing just beyond its walls.