“That’s the Countess of Petrice!” A rough, excited voice called out. “If we kill her we’ll be famous!”

  Uldred’s limbs shook from the strain of holding the massive portcullis aloft, and try as she might, she could not find a way to free herself from beneath its massive weight. The brigands slowly approached and gathered around her in a half-circle, not unlike a pack of wolves surrounding an injured bear. One of them drew a sword from his hip as he took a step forward. Uldred’s face was deep red and dripping with sweat as clenched her teeth, before gathering all her remaining strength and roaring to the heavens as she pushed upwards with all of her might!

  The gate winch began to let out an audible click...click...click as she steadily lifted the portcullis and the chains jingled against each other from the movement. The thugs halted their advance to marvel at this superhuman feat of strength they bore witness to, and some even took a step back away from her as they watched. With a final mighty heave Uldred cast the metal gate up off her shoulders and threw herself through the gap before the portal smmed violently closed just behind her!

  But as, she had spent the majority of her great strength on this effort, and her arms felt limp and weak as the muscles within them had been torn and bruised quite badly. As she feebly knelt upon the ground, huffing in deep breaths of air, the same opportunistic Otkornian man found the courage to approach her once more, lofting his crude sword above his head as he did so.

  “V-very impressive, but that’s still not enough to save you!”

  As he readied himself to strike her with a killing blow, Uldred gred up at him with murderous intensity. However, even as her mind screamed to her body to rise up to dodge or defend against him, she could not make herself move a single inch even as the fear of death grew and twisted in her gullet! The thought of so much as raising her arm up to grasp the hilt of the sword she wore on her back, let alone drawing and wielding it in another fight, was too agonizing in her current state. Time seemed to slow as she watched the bde begin its descent towards her brow. She could barely muster the energy to flinch and shut her eyes in hopeless defeat, awaiting the piercing pain that would follow...

  –Crack!

  Her ears were suddenly assaulted by the unexpected sound of a close, heavy impact and splintering wood, followed by a cry of pain. Her eyes opened wide just in time for the Countess to see her would-be executioner falling to the ground, with the pieces of what had been a sturdy wooden chair up until a few seconds ago raining down all around him! The other Otkornian men standing behind him whirled about and stared up at the spot where the furniture must have fallen from, shouting in fury and arm. But their cries were all cut short as a heavy bck bde swept through their bodies like a sickle through a patch of tall wheat! Uldred had been able to muster just enough strength to whip her arm up, stomp her forward-most leg hard enough upon the ground to crack the stone walkway beneath her, and all but throw the sword from her back in a great arc to strike every man who surrounded her. This desperate move sent her falling to her knees once more, but it scattered her opponents across the ground and the far wall. Since the Countess cked any further strength to grasp the hilt of her weapon and retrieve it, the bde continued to fly off until its arc through the air ended with it hitting the castle wall with an ugly cng!

  It took several moments of bored breathing for the young Countess to regain enough energy to lift her head again, allowing her to finally notice the shadow of a small figure peering down at her from a high-up balcony. She could make out a small man with long, dirty-blond hair which cascaded down his face and obscured his eyes. He was staring down in shock at the carnage that had unfolded in the courtyard below him, and for which he was partially responsible. His gaze met only briefly with hers before he disappeared back behind the balcony railing and out of sight.

  All Uldred desired then was to colpse in a heap upon her comfortable bed back at Castle Petrice, and she gred enviously at the lone surviving man before her who y limp and unconscious upon the cobblestone, ignoring the fact that he was mumbling and writhing in pain in a concussed state. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and enjoy her habitual method of escape from all of the stress and conflict of the world. But then she couldn’t help but think of the small figure of the Count, who was no doubt once again held captive by the fraudulent Lord Borney. She let out a ragged sigh, gritted her teeth, clenched her fists and then slowly, haltingly dragged her dogged body back upright and into an uneasy stance. She then began to stumble forward and inside the st final stronghold of Coronton.

  Shunk!

  Niks slid one of the crude swords he had confiscated from his former foes through the handles of the dining room doors, effectively locking them shut and trapping the thugs inside. With any luck that would prevent them from following and wayying him again, at least until this matter was over and done with. Unfortunately he then found that the temporary bolster to his nerves that had carried him through that frightful battle had worn off, and now his limbs, which were already weak and flimsy things, wobbled bonelessly beneath him, and his lungs burned terribly besides.

  He was reminded– and quite painfully so–of the times in his youth, back at the van der Leigh Estate, when he had attempted to follow along with his father and brothers in their daily training routine.

  “The fundamentals are the foundations upon which a Knight stands: a proper and nutritious diet, a well-built physique, but most importantly… endurance!”

  At the time, Kaiser van der Leigh’s eyes had been locked upon Niks, who had struggled to keep the already rge gap between himself and his two elder brothers from growing any wider as the three of them jogged feverishly around the sandy dirt of the arena. But regardless of how much he trained, and how hard he pushed himself over the weeks, months, and years that followed, he never seemed to improve, and his body stubbornly remained sickly, pale and thin. For the young Niks, the hostile gre of his father felt as though it drilled into his very skull. With a defiant enthusiasm, Niks’ slovenly pace had doubled as he attempted to shorten the distance between himself and his brothers, only to halt suddenly as his father stepped down into the arena and blocked his way!

  Tossing him a wooden sword, which he barely managed to catch in one sweaty palm, Kaiser beckoned for the young boy to attack him, and so, with a weary and frustrated cry, he did so. Kaiser barely even moved as he expertly knocked the sword from his son’s trembling hands.

  “If you cannot breathe, you cannot fight, and if you cannot fight then you cannot win!”

  He had growled down at the exhausted boy, holding his own wooden bde up to the youth’s chin. Something in his father’s voice and demeanor had made Niks’ eyes grow wide and his heart sink in terror. It felt as if the man was truly considering whether or not to end his life right there and then! Even his brothers had stopped running, and were staring silently back at them from across the way with looks of unusual concern on their faces. For a long, suspended moment, the only sound that could be heard was the harsh, panting breath of the youngest van der Leigh, which came quicker with each second he waited for his father to act. Finally, Kaiser merely let out a brusque, frustrated sigh and pointed down the running track with the wooden bde.

  “Run. Go!”

  That was the st time Niks had ever attended a training session, at least one with his other family members present. He could still remember the cold terror that had spread in his chest as clearly as if it were yesterday. However, it was rather funny how remembering the event, along with the disdain for his father which had grown within him over the years, seemed to spur him on in his present moment of weakness. For what he was attempting to achieve in Coronton was a truly Knightly deed, and every ache and pain his scrawny frame endured, sensations which would normally have driven him to give up, instead felt... good to him. It felt as if he was truly proving–to everyone, but more importantly, to himself–that when it came to his capabilities as a knight, his Father had been wrong!

  “If you cannot breathe, you cannot fight, and if you cannot fight, you cannot win…” He mumbled hoarsely to himself between rhythmically drawing air in long and slow through his nose and then letting it out through his mouth.

  Feeling somewhat rejuvenated after a few moments spent catching his breath, he was startled and brought back to reality by the sounds of the two men he had trapped within the dining room pounding upon its door with their fists, cursing loudly and calling to be freed! Once again realizing he was limited on time, Niks took off down the halls of the Castle once more at a steady jog, doing his best to recall the directions that the Borney’s thugs had hastily recited to him during his previous interrogation about the man’s location.

  Left... right... left... left–nope! Niks ducked back behind the corner which he had been about to cross just in time to avoid the eyes of several more Otkornian thugs, who were patrolling and on their way up the hall beyond. Their hands and tabards were stained liberally with blood, and the bodies of some poor, proper Coronton soldiers y messily strewn about where they had evidently been taken by surprise and brutally cut down.

  Maybe if I go up this way instead and take a right…

  Niks’ path through the halls of the castle became haphazard and spontaneous as he fled from Borney’s cronies, who seemed to increase in numbers the more he ran. Unbeknownst to him, just after he had left the hall outside the dining room, those two men from earlier had come, finally having cracked open the door and ran to beg their compatriots for aid in his capture. The entire castle was shortly put on high alert–even moreso than it had already been with the battle raging outside–with droves of Otkornian men running up and down the halls, every one of them hell-bent on finding the little Lord!

  Where are all of them coming from? Niks cursed to himself from where he had squeezed himself into a crevice behind a decorative suit of armor as several more Otkornian conscripts passed by his hiding-spot.

  Unfortunately, just afterwards he peeked his head out a bit too early as he attempted to creep towards the hall that band of thugs had just searched and departed from, for he heard one of the men call out in arm, having looked over his shoulder on a whim and spotted the Count in his flight.

  “There he is!”

  The lot of them immediately turned on their heels and charged back up the hallway towards Niks, who, in a feat of desperation, pulled on that heavy suit of armor and brought it loudly crashing down just before the thugs could reach him! The man who led the pack ran into the scattered pile of metal painfully, and the next man in line ran straight into him, followed by the next man, and the next after him, all in all causing a terrible mess! Meanwhile Niks had already turned tail and disappeared up another corridor, with the shouts of newly-arriving henchmen ringing out just behind him!

  Mercifully, the exhausted young Lord soon came upon a stone staircase which spiraled upwards so tightly it inspired an uneasy sense of custrophobia, but which nonetheless led to the second and third floors! It cked windows, so a single oil ntern lit this small passage, one which Niks hurriedly reached up and plucked from its hanger. Just then another pair of Borney’s thugs came around the corner and into view, calling to alert their fellows when they spotted him. Niks forcefully threw the ntern down on the floor between them and himself. It shattered loudly and spread fming oil all across the corridor just ahead of the approaching thugs, who were forced to stop so abruptly that they fell skidding to their seats on the floor!

  “There’s f-fire! Fire!” They cried out in fright. “Fetch water, quick!” the two of them then retreated as the fire quickly caught the fancy carpet alight and began to chase them back the way they had come.

  That... was probably a bad idea. Niks admitted to himself, gritting his teeth anxiously as he observed just how quickly the fire was spreading. I’d better hurry!

  The former Mayor Borney, Edmunton Borney, nervously chewed at his nails as he paced about the interior of his regal office. His ever-faithful mustachioed servant had assured him several times that the battle was going well, despite how every time the man returned he appeared more distressed and disheveled than the st. In short, Borney knew the man was fibbing.

  It was then that a peculiar noise caught his ear, sounding as though somebody was dragging a piece of heavy furniture across the floor in the bedroom just beyond his office. Borney knew that it could only possibly be his nephew, Alvin, whom he had earlier locked inside his own sumptuous resting chambers in order to keep the enemy at Coronton’s gates from getting their hands on him. The d was a constant headache, always causing mischief and ruining his pns, and there was no doubt in Borney’s mind that he was up to no good once again!

  “What is that little bastard doing now..?” He wondered aloud as he feverishly worked to open the lock on the door which led directly into his bedroom.

  No sooner did he open it than did he witness Alvin hurling one of his expensive wooden chairs over the railing of the balcony–and to what end he was not sure. He marched over towards his nephew and drew up just behind where he stood. The young man turned around just in time to see his Uncle coming and raise his hands protectively over his face, and so Borney struck his gut instead, causing Alvin to double over in pain!

  “What are you doing now?” He spat out imperiously, peering over the balcony to witness the scene of carnage below. “Oh! Aw!” He cried at the sight of the blood and bodies, keeling over to wretch.

  After spitting out a few mouthfuls of bile, Borney turned back with fury etched into his face and sent another kick directly into the smaller man’s ribcage. The air was knocked painfully from Alvin’s lungs, causing him to struggle to breathe for several minutes after.

  “This is all your fault! All of it!” Borney cursed as he loomed over the piteous figure of his nephew. “Without you, I would be the Mayor. The pn would have all gone smoothly, and once Lord Otkorn took the County, he would have made me a Baron! If only you had died along with your father..!” He then began to stomp on the young man with the heel of his shoe, while his victim curled protectively inwards to safeguard his belly and head.

  “S-so why didn’t you just kill me then?” Arose Alvin’s quivering but defiant voice, muffled as it was by the defensive shield of his arms.

  Borney stopped his assault and took a step back in his astonishment and shock, for this weak and pathetic boy had never spoken to him in such a tone before.

  “Oh, th-that’s right: you’re afraid!” Alvin stammered out despite the all-too-familiar haze of panic and pain that had settled over him. “You’re afraid that wh-when all of this goes badly, just as it is now, that killing me would guarantee you dance upon the hangman’s noose! You’re a coward. You’ve always been a weak-willed coward!” Alvin barked at him as his courage granted him just enough strength to uncurl himself and stumble to his feet.

  As he witnessed his Nephew’s tirade, Borney retreated away from him and further into his bedroom. Despite the difference in their sizes and demeanors, for a moment, this newly-confident Alvin appeared to Borney as if the young man was twice his size!

  “Shut up!” Cried Borney, striking out wildly, his haphazard blow nonetheless knocking the already-injured man back down upon the bedroom carpet!

  Shaking the pain from his knuckles, Borney turned and looked up towards a pair of estocs crossed decoratively above his firepce. After shooting a cold gre down at his fallen nephew, he reached up and retrieved one such bde, first testing its weight before then pointing the weapon down towards Alvin on the floor.

  “Perhaps... you are right, nephew. Perhaps, all these many years, it truly was my ck of commitment that doomed this venture.”

  Alvin’s gaze shook with terror as he gazed up at the gleaming point of the bde, which grew ever nearer. He began to scramble backwards and away from his uncle, who looked down at him now with an emotionless gze cast over his eyes. It was a look he had never seen the man wear before, but one which frightened him far more than any expression of rage or disgust that the man had ever shown to him before!

  “Thank you for helping me see the error of my ways, young nephew. Please, do give your father and mother my regards.” Borney then drew his arm up to execute his strike!

  “Edmonton!” A familiar voice interrupted the scene from behind the pair.

  The half-mad Borney turned his head to peer ckadaisically over his shoulder and saw Niks stood in the doorway to his office which he had foolishly left ajar earlier.

  “It’s time to end this!” Niks decred, holding up his own cutss in challenge.

  Borney smiled back at him, looking for all the world as though he had completely lost his mind. “Ah, my Lord Count! You are just the man I was hoping to see next!”