In the Name of Justice: Chapter VI
Tomorrow is the last day of half term. :D
Chapter VI
He Who Bears the Crown
To his surprise, Justice first detected the sound of hooves a lot sooner than he'd originally anticipated; and by the time the horse came into sight, he'd already planned his approach down to the smallest of movements.
It was a beautiful animal with a well-groomed, woody brown coat and mane to match. Its pace had slowed to a gentle trot, though it was easy to tell it was on edge from the way its eyes were darting back and forth in its head.
Justice trod softly, keeping his footsteps in unison with the horse's as best he was able; then, once he was level with it, he slowly edged in a diagonal direction towards the track, a path which allowed him to avoid its powerful back legs.
The horse first noticed him a moment or so before he reached the track, and with a terrified whinny, it reared onto its back legs. At once, the man snatched the flailing reins from the air and clamoured up onto the saddle. However, the battle wasn't over yet: as if clinging to the last piece of desperation it held, the animal flicked its head back and forth violently, leaving Justice no option but to latch his arms around its neck and dig his fingernails in as hard as he could for grip.
It was a full minute before the animal finally fell still, by which time the man was almost crippled from the tension in his body. At first, he was reluctant to unfurl himself, but it seemed that the worst was over at last, which was something of a reassurance. When he was sitting upright, his hands took hold of the reins and pulled sharply, and to his surprise, the horse started forward without resistance.
He blinked, a little shocked at the animal's sudden compliance, but pleased nevertheless; for someone who had never ridden before, he was pleasantly surprised at how simple such a thing could be, and once he had positioned himself comfortably on the saddle, Justice's mind began to roll to other matters.
One thing his thoughts kept returning to was the man's words just before he'd died. I have to relay a message to Lord Fairslough, that's all... Whilst there was nothing out of the ordinary for the Guardians to arrange a meeting, why leave it so late? Surely there was some reason for it, some emergency that had to be attended to... Otherwise the simpler option would be to propose it months in advance. The whole situation struck him as odd.
The Guardians, occasionally referred to as the Four Knights (although that title was slipping from general use), had always held an underlying hand in the way Marthiel was governed, no matter how much the lords cared to deny it; even in present times, when almost every drop of power had been placed upon the state leaders, the four were regarded with the same respect one may treat a monarch.
Ironically, though, only a select few were aware of their true natures.
Justice smiled to himself. The world was so ignorant... For almost one thousand years now, the Guardians had held their positions as rulers of the regions, unmoving, unchanging and ageing not a single day. It would not have taken much to work out that the men were vampires, particularly in a land where the creatures were hunted down each and every day, but no: for centuries, they had allowed their followers to feed off the tale that they had received the gift of eternal youth from lifelong dedication to the god of vitality, Tairos. It was a convincing lie; and like all convincing liars, the Knights had subtle methods of supporting it.
Are you talking about the Guardians? Do you really think they'd listen to someone like you? That's ridiculous... Without warning, Judas' words leaked into Justice's head, making him grimace. Indeed, he had been considering the possibility of contacting them for a while now, and the rise of an opponent made him all the more determined to; what's more, he had managed to latch onto a rare opportunity, the chance to gain an audience all four Guardians at once.
In the end, however, it all depended on how much they were willing to believe in fairytales.
It was a legend spanning across almost two centuries of eager ears, the sword said to have belonged to the thirteenth and final king, Dreizehn Schwarzschild. Whilst most dismissed it as a mere story, Justice was adamant that it existed.
After all, it was a part of his family.
A sudden indentation in the track caused the horse to lose its footing and stumble briefly, which broke the man abruptly from his thoughts. Sighing sharply, he brushed a strand of dislodged hair from his eye and took a firmer hold of the reins.
Since the earliest days of his childhood, Justice had been made aware of his royal lineage, of how his father, the king, had allowed himself to be burnt to ashes in the light of the sun. The sword, passed down through each generation of rulers, was thought to hold within it Schwarzschild's soul and contain the power to bring a new leader to the throne. Perhaps that was why Justice felt a deep, almost possessive need to retrieve it.
The task was proving more difficult than he'd anticipated, though. It was only recently that he'd managed to whittle its location down to a rough area of the country, and even that was after years of sifting through rumours and buying information from side-street dealers; and as if to make matters worse, he had yet another obstacle to cross. Judas was the kind of person who clung to any power he laid hands on - to him, the sword was probably just another item with which he could expand his influence. Overseas lands were run independently to Marthiel, and although he was unsure of his exact position, Justice knew that he held a significant standing, with his own army and followers that could be utilised with the snap of his fingers.
He scowled - people were so power-hungry… It sickened him to imagine how something that was clearly his could find its way into the hands of someone so utterly bent upon nothing but expanding his own reign.
That was why he had to visit the Guardians and ask for their help - there was no other way around it. The idea itself was near ridiculous, and the chances were that he would be refused, but if Judas decided to pull his troops into the equation, then he wouldn't be able to work his way around them on his own - even if they were mere humans.
Maybe the Guardians even knew something about the sword.
Justice felt his heartbeat race. To think that he was going to be meeting the ones closest to royalty in the land… The very shook him. Already, he could sense the nervousness and apprehension pulling at his chest. The journey itself was enough cause for discomfort: Harkshal lay in the far north-west of Marthiel, deep within the realms of the Water Region. On foot, it would take at least three days to cross the border, and a further two to reach the capital, where the meeting was to take place. However, he estimated that he would be able to manage the journey in under forty-eight hours on horseback, providing the rests were short and few. What's more, travelling during the daytime would be possible for short periods of time due to the supply of sun-resistant draughts stored away at home; of course, though, they would have to be used sparingly if they were to last more than a day.
The moon was a cropped oval shape, halfway through its transition from crescent to full. Its light barely illuminated the path, yet it appeared that the animal's sense of direction was proficient enough for it to navigate without full vision. In two hours, it would be morning, though this was more than enough time for Justice to reach his home; he'd be able to take any amenities he needed before heading straight to Harkshal. The idea repeated itself constantly in his mind, as if he were already planning out each leg of the journey individually.
Beneath him, the horse flicked its mane, grunted and sped up its pace a little in a notion that suggested it had understood everything he'd uttered inside his head.
Next Chapter →
Chapter VI
He Who Bears the Crown
To his surprise, Justice first detected the sound of hooves a lot sooner than he'd originally anticipated; and by the time the horse came into sight, he'd already planned his approach down to the smallest of movements.
It was a beautiful animal with a well-groomed, woody brown coat and mane to match. Its pace had slowed to a gentle trot, though it was easy to tell it was on edge from the way its eyes were darting back and forth in its head.
Justice trod softly, keeping his footsteps in unison with the horse's as best he was able; then, once he was level with it, he slowly edged in a diagonal direction towards the track, a path which allowed him to avoid its powerful back legs.
The horse first noticed him a moment or so before he reached the track, and with a terrified whinny, it reared onto its back legs. At once, the man snatched the flailing reins from the air and clamoured up onto the saddle. However, the battle wasn't over yet: as if clinging to the last piece of desperation it held, the animal flicked its head back and forth violently, leaving Justice no option but to latch his arms around its neck and dig his fingernails in as hard as he could for grip.
It was a full minute before the animal finally fell still, by which time the man was almost crippled from the tension in his body. At first, he was reluctant to unfurl himself, but it seemed that the worst was over at last, which was something of a reassurance. When he was sitting upright, his hands took hold of the reins and pulled sharply, and to his surprise, the horse started forward without resistance.
He blinked, a little shocked at the animal's sudden compliance, but pleased nevertheless; for someone who had never ridden before, he was pleasantly surprised at how simple such a thing could be, and once he had positioned himself comfortably on the saddle, Justice's mind began to roll to other matters.
One thing his thoughts kept returning to was the man's words just before he'd died. I have to relay a message to Lord Fairslough, that's all... Whilst there was nothing out of the ordinary for the Guardians to arrange a meeting, why leave it so late? Surely there was some reason for it, some emergency that had to be attended to... Otherwise the simpler option would be to propose it months in advance. The whole situation struck him as odd.
The Guardians, occasionally referred to as the Four Knights (although that title was slipping from general use), had always held an underlying hand in the way Marthiel was governed, no matter how much the lords cared to deny it; even in present times, when almost every drop of power had been placed upon the state leaders, the four were regarded with the same respect one may treat a monarch.
Ironically, though, only a select few were aware of their true natures.
Justice smiled to himself. The world was so ignorant... For almost one thousand years now, the Guardians had held their positions as rulers of the regions, unmoving, unchanging and ageing not a single day. It would not have taken much to work out that the men were vampires, particularly in a land where the creatures were hunted down each and every day, but no: for centuries, they had allowed their followers to feed off the tale that they had received the gift of eternal youth from lifelong dedication to the god of vitality, Tairos. It was a convincing lie; and like all convincing liars, the Knights had subtle methods of supporting it.
Are you talking about the Guardians? Do you really think they'd listen to someone like you? That's ridiculous... Without warning, Judas' words leaked into Justice's head, making him grimace. Indeed, he had been considering the possibility of contacting them for a while now, and the rise of an opponent made him all the more determined to; what's more, he had managed to latch onto a rare opportunity, the chance to gain an audience all four Guardians at once.
In the end, however, it all depended on how much they were willing to believe in fairytales.
It was a legend spanning across almost two centuries of eager ears, the sword said to have belonged to the thirteenth and final king, Dreizehn Schwarzschild. Whilst most dismissed it as a mere story, Justice was adamant that it existed.
After all, it was a part of his family.
A sudden indentation in the track caused the horse to lose its footing and stumble briefly, which broke the man abruptly from his thoughts. Sighing sharply, he brushed a strand of dislodged hair from his eye and took a firmer hold of the reins.
Since the earliest days of his childhood, Justice had been made aware of his royal lineage, of how his father, the king, had allowed himself to be burnt to ashes in the light of the sun. The sword, passed down through each generation of rulers, was thought to hold within it Schwarzschild's soul and contain the power to bring a new leader to the throne. Perhaps that was why Justice felt a deep, almost possessive need to retrieve it.
The task was proving more difficult than he'd anticipated, though. It was only recently that he'd managed to whittle its location down to a rough area of the country, and even that was after years of sifting through rumours and buying information from side-street dealers; and as if to make matters worse, he had yet another obstacle to cross. Judas was the kind of person who clung to any power he laid hands on - to him, the sword was probably just another item with which he could expand his influence. Overseas lands were run independently to Marthiel, and although he was unsure of his exact position, Justice knew that he held a significant standing, with his own army and followers that could be utilised with the snap of his fingers.
He scowled - people were so power-hungry… It sickened him to imagine how something that was clearly his could find its way into the hands of someone so utterly bent upon nothing but expanding his own reign.
That was why he had to visit the Guardians and ask for their help - there was no other way around it. The idea itself was near ridiculous, and the chances were that he would be refused, but if Judas decided to pull his troops into the equation, then he wouldn't be able to work his way around them on his own - even if they were mere humans.
Maybe the Guardians even knew something about the sword.
Justice felt his heartbeat race. To think that he was going to be meeting the ones closest to royalty in the land… The very shook him. Already, he could sense the nervousness and apprehension pulling at his chest. The journey itself was enough cause for discomfort: Harkshal lay in the far north-west of Marthiel, deep within the realms of the Water Region. On foot, it would take at least three days to cross the border, and a further two to reach the capital, where the meeting was to take place. However, he estimated that he would be able to manage the journey in under forty-eight hours on horseback, providing the rests were short and few. What's more, travelling during the daytime would be possible for short periods of time due to the supply of sun-resistant draughts stored away at home; of course, though, they would have to be used sparingly if they were to last more than a day.
The moon was a cropped oval shape, halfway through its transition from crescent to full. Its light barely illuminated the path, yet it appeared that the animal's sense of direction was proficient enough for it to navigate without full vision. In two hours, it would be morning, though this was more than enough time for Justice to reach his home; he'd be able to take any amenities he needed before heading straight to Harkshal. The idea repeated itself constantly in his mind, as if he were already planning out each leg of the journey individually.
Beneath him, the horse flicked its mane, grunted and sped up its pace a little in a notion that suggested it had understood everything he'd uttered inside his head.
Next Chapter →