Bodies littered the entryway that led into the halls of Castle Coronton. Most of the scattered men were moaning–awake, but dazed and in pain–where they lay, and some were entirely unconscious, but regardless all and sundry were laying atop one another or propped up sitting against walls or larger articles of broken furniture, bruised and bloodied but lacking any serious injury.

  Within that space only two men still stood–although, barely–facing each other with their fists raised before them in a hand-to-hand fighting stance. Unfortunately for the last guardsman of Coronton left standing, his Otkornian opponent had led a life of hardship, and brawls like this were a common occurrence back in his home. Whereas the guard himself had only participated in such scuffles a few times in his youth, and compared to this, those had been much shorter and less intense affairs.

  Unsteadily and uncertainly the guardsman still readied himself to throw his fist in another wild swing, but as he stepped forward his opponent stepped back in turn, which caused him to stumble and lose balance. Following through, the larger and more experienced man then struck his jaw with a vicious uppercut, finally knocking the guardsman unconscious and sending him to join his defeated compatriots on the floor!

  The thug spat out a mouthful of blood and wobbled for a moment where he stood, panting heavily as he tried to regain his composure. He looked about at where all of his men lay mixed in among the guards throughout the hall.

  “I guess I’d better start in on some throat-cuttin’ before they get back up.” He mumbled to himself in an unsettlingly matter-of-fact kind of way as he surveilled the scene.

  Drawing a dagger from his boot, the thug grabbed the guardsman who he had knocked unconscious by the hair and hoisted him up to his knees, using his other hand to place the blade of his dagger at the man’s neck. However, the brute hesitated before he made the final cut, for just then he felt a peculiar presence stirring behind his back. Looking over his shoulder, he saw what he could only assume was the Reaper itself looming over him. The terrifying figure was more than a head taller than him, but with a feminine face peering out from behind a cascade of long, tangled black hair. What little he could see of that disquieting face appeared somehow both as eerily beautiful as a doll and horribly grotesque, as if that porcelain skin had melted like a candle’s wax! He opened his mouth to scream in horror, but before he could make a sound a large, black-gloved hand had clasped itself around his entire head, engulfing his entire face in blood-soaked leather, before it lifted him from his feet, and then slammed him violently back to the floor.

  Having made short work of the single foe remaining, Uldred took a brief moment to look about the castle entranceway and take in the carnage which had unfolded there shortly before her arrival. It appeared that these lesser Coronton watchmen had turned against Borney and his men, ensuing in a vicious brawl. Hearing a new commotion, she then looked down the long main hallway leading into the depths of the castle just in time to spy another group of those hired thugs running past, struggling to hurry while carrying sloshing wooden buckets of water. Dark gouts of fire-smoke billowed from the direction in which they were headed.

  “A-are you the Countess..?” Uldred was distracted from her observation by the sound of a voice mumbling weakly up to her from below. One of the guardsmen that had been knocked senseless during the melee had seemingly just come to, and was looking up at the swordswoman in a daze from where he lay at her feet.

  “The Count... he went on ahead...” The man continued to force out between groans of pain as he struggled to drag himself back up to his feet. His sense of equilibrium appeared to have been damaged, and everything beneath his nose was masked in a ruddy layer of dried blood.

  Uldred reached down and grasped the stumbling man by the pit of his arm before easily lifting him up to his feet, holding him in place until he stopped wobbling in place to ensure that he did not topple over again.

  “The Count, where did he go?”

  The man turned his head to stare down the hallway that was still displaying the signs of a not-too-distant blaze that must be raging further inside the building. Uldred let out a huff of exasperation. Of course this was all his doing. That meddlesome little fellow could go nowhere without stirring up trouble. She had half a mind to immediately begin marching down the hall after him, but she paused to gaze across all of the Coronton guardsmen who lay helpless around her, and she felt a growing reluctance at the thought of leaving them as they were, helpless and unprotected.

  “Your men, do you think you can rouse them?” She asked the concussed fellow she had helped to stand, who blinked dully for a moment before he seemed to register her query. “Y-yeah, I think so…” he answered before he trailed off.

  “Then get your lads up and out of here before the fire takes you.” She commanded, giving him her best attempt at a light pat on the shoulder that still almost knocked him off his feet, and with that she turned and marched away down the hall.

  Edmonton Borney turned away from his fallen nephew to look upon Niklas where he stood in the doorway with his cutlass half-raised, just in case the conniving madman made a move towards him. Borney in turn raised his estoc and pointed it directly at the young Count in a clear challenge. Niklas gulped and wiped his brow nervously with his free hand, for as he looked into the elder Borney’s eyes now it appeared as if the man had truly snapped, for his eyes glinted with a feverish madness and his grin was wide and showed too many teeth, like the last, desperate threat display of a cornered animal.

  “It’s over Borney: my men are inside the city now, while yours are running for the hills. We can still end this without further bloodshed if you surrender!”

  Borney scoffed at the Count’s declaration. “It may be over for my current plan, which you have so thoroughly ruined, but it is not over for me!” He declared confidently. “I was trying to do this the easy way, you know. You are the one who pushed me to go this far! You and yours are to blame!” He sneered, pointing one accusatory finger towards Niklas. The false Mayor took a step forward then, so Niklas also took a step to one side and out of the doorway, giving himself more room to maneuver if Borney truly meant to force him into a fight.

  “Because of your meddling we will be forced to take more... drastic measures, Baron Otkorn and I! Once I return to him with your Seal, all we will have to do is sweep away any remnants of the paltry resistance you cobbled together, and then we will move on to Lengar! You know, the Baron was not very enthusiastic about conquering such a poor and feeble place as Petrice, but once he learns about your newfound riches I am quite sure he will change his tune.”

  The heat in the air began to grow at Niklas’ back, so he slowly began to move in a wide circle to the right, forcing Borney to also follow suit, lest he show the Count his back.

  “I was not aware there were other Lords willing to take up the unenviable task of holding back the Monsters that emerge from the West.” Niklas replied with his best air of dismissive arrogance, baiting a growl from his foe.

  “Monsters? hah!” Borney barked out in amused scorn. “Myths peasants tell over a fire to scare their children, spread to keep the other territories at bay. No sooner had I revealed this as a falsehood to Lord Otkorn than did he send me soldiers to help secure Coronton. Your lot is finished now that you can no longer use those tall-tales to scare us off!”

  Niklas could only respond with a look of intermingled disbelief and disgust. “Are you not a man born of Petrice yourself? How could you even entertain such a notion?”

  Borney shot him one of his widest Cheshire grins, keeping the tip of his blade trained directly towards Niklas’ heart. “I’m so sorry to tell you that my upbringing and extensive education in Otkorn has lent my mind a clarity that the ignorant Petrician peasants lack.”

  Niklas’ expression fell completely flat, unable to fully process the sheer amount of nonsense he was hearing. “I have lived here for less than a single season and I have already witnessed many convincing and horrible sights firsthand.”

  “Perhaps you are more easily fooled than most.” Borney chuckled patronizingly at him as his free hand nonchalantly patted the pocket in which he kept the stolen Seal. “...I would know.”

  “Or, perhaps,” Niklas retorted, “the magnitude of your willful ignorance is the only thing that rivals your complete ineptitude as a Mayor.”

  Borney roared like a beast at the insult, springing forward suddenly while maneuvering his sword to strike a decisive blow, an attack which Niklas just barely managed to knock away with his own blade as he hastily ducked out of the way of the larger man’s charge! As Niklas stumbled back he stretched his free hand out behind himself to push aside any decorations or furniture that threatened to trip him up or block his path as he backstepped. Borney spun on his heel to correct his course and renewed his furious assault, wildly thrusting and swiping at his young opponent!

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The Count’s weak body had already been pushed well past its limit before this encounter, as he had been forced to defend himself along with running all about, and now his muscles screamed in agony at the pace of combat Borney set. Niklas’ movements quickly became haggard, braced against collapse only by survival instincts and adrenaline. Finally, after several long minutes of struggle, Niklas felt his legs give out and he fell against a countertop, catching himself with his free arm. It was at that point that the fraudulent mayor triumphantly placed the tip of his sword against the young man’s neck, pushing just hard enough to draw a bead of blood.

  “I did try, you know.” The larger man said through his own huffing breaths. “When my brother died my nephew was but a babe, and it was a simple thing to take the position for myself. Once a few dissenting voices… disappeared, the others easily fell in line, and Alvin Borney was officially considered to be deceased. Just like you, I had stars in my eyes, then. I thought I could be the greatest Lord this City had ever seen! But everything I tried to do–every provision I passed or law that I implemented–was met with overwhelming rebuttal!”

  Niklas narrowed his eyes at him, recognizing a familiar frustration in his eyes as the other man recounted his tale.

  “They soon grew fed up with me and brought me before the Count himself–and never was there a man more traditional and close-minded as he!” Borney snarled, his eyes ablaze with vividly-recalled hatred. “I had thought the peasants were hostile and unyielding. but that man clapped me in irons and forced me to swear to never again attempt to change the status quo–or rather, to bring ‘foreign influence’ to his territory–or face my death!”

  Niklas scowled back at him as he interjected. “So what small glimmer of good that remained inside of you, even after your greed got you in this mess to begin with, was so completely eradicated, just like that? When you could have yet found some smaller means to better the lives of your people?”

  Borney laughed, amusement welling up from deep within his despicable belly. “My dear young man, what I learned from my brief period of naivete was what the late Count had been trying to teach me all along! That compared to the Nobility, who are capable of education and advancement, those people-” He spat the word as he said it. “--are simply of a lower form of life, and they do not actually wish for their lot to be bettered! They are not unlike dairy cows, or fat hogs raised for inevitable slaughter–livestock, content to live simple, lowly lives under our esteemed governance. Our Noble birthright obliges us to guide them, and in return they serve us and better allow us to fulfill our ambitions and desires. You will learn all this yourself, in time...”

  Borney smiled devilishly and pressed the tip of his sword harder into Niklas’ skin. “...Or, at least you would, if you were not destined to meet your end here!” But just as he was about to run the young Lord through he suddenly froze in place, his eyes widening, and he looked back over his shoulder with a start. Dark smoke was billowing in through the cracks in the large wooden double doors–the fire had finally spread from the second floor to the third!

  “What is this?” Borney demanded, horrified. “My home!”

  “Sorry, Edmonton.” Niklas chuckled lightly . “That was my doing.”

  Borney whirled angrily back around, but after getting a chance to rest while the larger man monologued, his opponent was ready to meet him blow for blow, and the battle ensued once more! And this time Niklas had been enraged by the fraudulent Mayor’s words, and so it was he who went on the offensive. Borney struggled desperately to fend off the Count’s rapidly-whirling blade, and soon many shallow but painful cuts began to appear across Borney’s skin!

  “B-back! Stay back!” Borney cried out fearfully as Niklas steadily encroached upon his position, maintaining a furious assault even while his muscles and lungs still pained him horribly.

  The clanging and scraping of blade-upon-blade was almost like a rhythmic duet. After a brief and frantic exchange, Niklas used his sword’s guard to lock the hilt of Borney’s blade, allowing the smaller man to form his free hand into a fist and belt his opponent for all he was worth. Borney was sent staggering back to the center of the room, just in front of the doorway leading to the balcony. As a horrified Borney clasped at his reddened and bleeding nose and groaned in pain, Niklas took up a fighting stance once again and advanced upon him.

  Borney recovered his wits in a rush and met Niklas with his own desperate flurry of strikes, moving with such brutal and haphazard violence that it looked as if he was attempting to chop the young Lord into many pieces. Yet however crude as his attacks had become, this change seemed to be effective. For as Niklas parried away one strike, followed by another, and yet another, Borney managed to catch the Count’s blade with his own and twist it about until his opponent’s grip gave out, flinging his cutlass into the air!

  Borney’s expression grew even more crazed as he grinned widely, for he once again held the little Lord at his mercy… or so he thought, for a brief moment, before Niklas mirrored that same confident and victorious look back at him then! Borney’s face fell into confusion and he hesitated for a moment, which was suddenly interrupted by the horrible, biting pain of a length of cold steel piercing into his back!

  Shunk!

  Slowly, trembling in shock and pain, the man lowered his head to look down upon the tip of the blade now protruding out through the front of his shirt. He then turned his head around just enough that he could see Alvin, who stood just behind him, with his hands on the hilt of the sword that had skewered him! Edmonton’s eyes darted back at Niklas in disbelief as he finally comprehended what his strategy had been all along.

  “Y-you... tricked...” He struggled to choke his words out around the blood that had begun to bubble up in his throat.

  His own sword clattered to the floor as his grip went slack, before falling to his knees with a thud as his legs gave out as well. He turned his gaze back to Alvin then, who had retreated further from him and had covered his mouth with his shaking hands, obviously in shock from what he had just done.

  “Not... you.” Borney gurgled indignantly, his brow furrowing into one final, hateful glare. “Anyone b-but...”

  And then his anger faded, and the light behind his eyes was extinguished.

  Edmonton Borney, along with all of his scheming and greed, had reached his end.

  Still panting from his exertions, Niklas fell to his seat upon the floor, propping himself up with his hands. Now that the confrontation was won he felt the last slivers of his strength leave him, and at the same time, the pain of his much-overexerted muscles finally caught up with him.

  “H-hey!” He called out to Alvin, who was still stood in place, as still and pale as a corpse himself, as he stared down at the spot where his uncle lay, struck dead by his own hand. “We can’t stay here– we have to go!”

  The flames had finally begun to creep through the cracks at the top and bottom of the wooden doors, and were just then licking threateningly at the very carpet upon which the two victors stood–or in Niklas’ case, sat!

  “Help me up–I-I cannot stand on my own!” He called, desperate and fearful now that his initial calls had been to no avail. “Alvin, please!”

  Thankfully, his cries then snapped the young man out of his stupor, even if his eyes were still distant and clouded, as if he witnessed everything that happened around him from behind a veil of fog. Regardless, he had enough awareness now to act, and he lurched over and took Niklas’ outstretched hand in his, pulling the fallen Count back to his feet with a great effort. The two heard a great chorus of popping and crackling behind them, and turned in alarm to see that the carpet had just caught alight!

  A wave of fire began to wash towards them. In an instant, Niklas shoved at Alvin’s back, sending the young lad tumbling harshly through the door and onto the stone of the balcony beyond it. With but seconds left to act, he too stumbled forward, grasping the hilt of his cutlass and wrenching it free from the ex-mayor’s carcass as he went, before he too made his escape and collapsed onto the balcony! Behind them, the opulent bedroom was awash in heat and smoke, to the point where the pair of them could not even look towards it, their eyes watering and their skin being warmed to the point of pain. They scrambled back away from it until they reached the railing of the balcony, but upon glancing down from their precarious position, all they could see awaiting them below was an insurmountably long fall!

  Already exhausted, and unsure of what to do next, the two young men began to feel their hope and energies fade as the lack of oxygen set in. A suffocating plume of smoke emanated from that room to gust across the balcony, which was much too shallow for them to escape from.

  Crack!

  The two were momentarily startled back to their senses as the very balcony itself suddenly lurched all! The wooden beams which supported the stone structure had already caught ablaze, the flames weakening them further with every second that passed. Niklas wondered if he would have a better chance at survival by throwing himself over the railing, but the sight of the corpses far below them quickly dissuaded him from pursuing such a plan. His eyes drooped heavily as he struggled to gulp in air, and he slid down to his knees as his strength waned once more. He looked over at Alvin, who lay at his side, already fully unconscious, and then gazed back at the tableau of flame and shadow that lay inside of the room that had inadvertently become the late Borney’s crematorium.

  This is it for me. He thought weakly to himself, his consciousness about to fade into oblivion. I can see Death itself coming for my soul…

  This observation was, in all fact, not a delusion. For just before Niklas sank into unconsciousness, he saw an ominous figure, which was inhumanly tall and shrouded in a dark cloak, reaching out of the billowing smoke to take him away!