Marcus stood in the grand hall, the weight of his armor pressing down on his shoulders, though it was nothing compared to the burden of his father's expectations. The southern border awaited him, a critical mission handed down with the same cold indifference William Von Schwarzenwald always displayed. As Marcus glanced at the family crest hanging above, a sense of inevitability settled over him. This wasn't just another task—this was a test, a challenge to prove himself worthy, once again, of the family's name.
Secure our lands. Do not fail.
His father's voice echoed in his head, stern and unrelenting, and Marcus had never known him to say anything less. Failure wasn't an option. Not for him. It never had been. The hall bustled with movement as servants prepared the final arrangements for his departure. The soft sounds of boots clicking against the marble floors, the rustle of cloaks, and the murmur of distant conversation were all reminders that everyone expected him to succeed. Failure would not be tolerated.
He watched as a servant approached him, bowing respectfully before offering a final adjustment to his armor. Marcus barely acknowledged the man, his thoughts already consumed by the mission ahead. He was no stranger to conflict, and leading forces at the border was not new to him. Yet, this time, the rumors of strange creatures lurking at the edges of their territory carried an ominous weight. His father had insisted that only Marcus could handle it.
This was more than a simple border skirmish.
His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, resting on the finely-crafted handle. The weapon was a gift from his father when he had completed his first major task—securing a vital trade route from bandits. That was years ago, but the memory of his father's rare approval still lingered. It had felt like a victory then, but now, it seemed like nothing compared to the pressure he was under now. The stakes were always rising, the bar always set higher.
"You're quiet today."
Marcus turned at the voice and saw Seraphina descending the grand staircase, her gown trailing elegantly behind her. Her face was as unreadable as ever, cold and distant like their father's. She had always been this way, reserved and calculating, with a mind sharper than anyone gave her credit for. Where Marcus was the family's blade, Seraphina was its strategist. She moved through their world like a ghost, ever-present but never fully seen.
"Just thinking," Marcus replied, adjusting the strap of his sword belt. "This mission is... important."
"More important than the others?" she asked, stepping closer, her eyes scrutinizing him. "Or just another chance for father to see who's truly worthy?"
Marcus shrugged, though he couldn't shake the feeling that Seraphina was onto something. She often was. "It's both," he admitted. "But we've handled difficult tasks before. This won't be any different."
Seraphina's lips curved into a small, humorless smile. "You always say that, Marcus. But you know as well as I do that father wouldn't send you if this wasn't more complicated than he's letting on. Rumors of strange creatures at the border? It's more than just securing our lands. Father's hiding something."
He frowned, not wanting to admit she might be right. Their father was a master at keeping secrets, playing his cards close to his chest, even with his own children. Especially with his own children. "What are you suggesting?"
"Only that you be careful," she said, crossing her arms. "Father expects results, but if you're not fully prepared, you'll be the one paying the price. We both know how he operates."
"I know," Marcus said, his voice tight. "But I've handled worse. I'm not going to fail."
Seraphina studied him for a moment longer, her gaze sharp, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight nod, she relented. "I believe you. Just... don't let your guard down. There's more at stake here than just the border."
Her words lingered in the air, and Marcus couldn't shake the feeling that she knew more than she was letting on. He had always admired Seraphina's intelligence, though her coldness often kept them at arm's length. Still, there was a loyalty between them that went unspoken, a shared understanding of the burdens they each carried as members of this family.
"Take care of things while I'm gone," Marcus said, his tone softening. "I trust you to keep everything in order."
Seraphina's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—concern, perhaps, or something close to it. "I always do," she replied coolly. "But things will be quieter without you around. Less excitement."
"Less trouble, you mean," Marcus said, allowing a rare chuckle. It felt strange, laughing in the midst of such tension, but Seraphina's company had always brought out the few scraps of levity he allowed himself.
Her lips twitched in the slightest hint of a smile, though it was gone as quickly as it came. "Just come back in one piece, Marcus. Father may not say it, but he relies on you more than you realize."
Marcus gave her a firm nod. "I'll be back before you know it. And when I do, the border will be secure."
With that, the moment passed, and Seraphina turned and disappeared down the hallway, her presence as ghostly as ever. Marcus watched her go, feeling a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. He had never been close to his siblings, not really, but Seraphina's words struck a chord. Perhaps it was the unspoken bond they shared—the knowledge that, despite everything, they were still part of the same web of expectations and duty.
As the final preparations were made, Marcus stepped out into the courtyard, where his black stallion waited for him. The horse was as imposing as ever, its muscles rippling beneath its sleek coat. It was a creature bred for war, just as Marcus had been. He mounted the stallion with ease, pulling the reins tight as he surveyed the soldiers who had gathered.
The men were dressed in the familiar armor of the family's forces, their faces stern and serious. Most of them were distant relatives—members of the extended family who had sworn loyalty to the Von Schwarzenwalds in exchange for protection and power. They were well-trained and loyal, but Marcus couldn't help but feel the distance between them. These men weren't like him. They didn't carry the full weight of the family's name.
"Move out!" Marcus called, his voice cutting through the air.
The soldiers mounted their horses and fell into formation, their movements precise and disciplined. As they began their journey toward the southern border, the estate slowly faded into the distance, its towering spires becoming nothing more than shadows on the horizon. The road ahead stretched far and wide, a path fraught with uncertainty and danger.
Marcus allowed himself a moment to breathe, the cold wind whipping against his face as they rode. He needed this—needed to get away from the estate, from the suffocating expectations that had been placed on him since birth. Out here, in the open, he could focus on what mattered. The mission. Securing the border. Protecting the family's interests.
And yet, as they rode further from the estate, Marcus couldn't help but think of Seraphina's words. The rumors of strange creatures at the border were more than just idle gossip. Something was happening, something that his father had chosen not to reveal. Marcus had always trusted his father's judgment, but doubt crept in.
What if this is different? What if this isn't just another routine mission?
He pushed the thought aside. There was no room for doubt, no room for second-guessing. His father had entrusted him with this task, and Marcus would not fail. Whatever awaited him at the southern border, he would face it head-on. It was his duty.
The sun began to set as they rode further south, casting long shadows across the landscape. The road grew narrower, winding through dense forests and rocky terrain. Marcus kept his eyes forward, his senses sharp. The soldiers behind him rode in silence, their discipline unwavering, but Marcus could feel the tension in the air. They knew, just as he did, that this mission was different. There was an undercurrent of unease, a sense that something was lurking just beyond the horizon.
As night fell, Marcus gave the order to set up camp. The soldiers moved quickly, setting up tents and lighting fires to ward off the chill. Marcus dismounted, stretching his legs as he surveyed the area. The southern border was still days away, but already, he could feel the weight of what was to come pressing down on him.
He walked to the edge of the camp, staring out into the darkness. The forest loomed ahead, its trees twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it a sense of foreboding. Marcus felt a shiver run down his spine, but he shook it off.
I will not fail, he told himself, clenching his fists. I cannot fail.
With that thought burning in his mind, Marcus turned back to the camp, ready to face whatever awaited him at the border.