In the Name of Justice: Chapter XVI
School is over at last. :D Has anyone seen the DARK WINGS PV preview yet? Only a small part has been released, and the quality isn't great, but from what I've seen so far, it looks to be one of their more dynamic videos. And forests. ♥ I'm really looking forward to this release.
As for the story, I've reached the last chapter in my writing! There will be 30 chapters in all, plus and epilogue (and prologue, obviously). I think once I'm done, I'll take a break and work on my Steampunk pirate story. That way, I can consider a second one properly.
I've been really struggling over a title for this part, so in the end, I settled on a chess-related theme. Enjoy! Next chapter's a long one.
Chapter XVI
Grand Master
The man slammed back-first into the tree.
“What the hell was that?”
He sniggered. “What the hell was what?”
Judas snarled as he gripped the other's collar. “You know damn well what I'm talking about.”
“Oh, that?” Slowly, the hooded man's fingers wrapped around one of the hands holding him captive. “And may I ask what significance a few irrelevant lives has to you?”
Suddenly, his nails dug sharply into the flesh of Judas' wrist, forcing him to let go. Judas stared at him, scowling. “I tell you to kill one person and you slaughter an entire army. Do you like to draw attention to yourself?” He paused. “I'm not sure you understand how powerful these Guardians really are.”
The hooded man snorted. Now free to walk around, he crossed the small area and leaned one arm against a tree trunk, making sure to keep the other clearly in his sights. “From what I've seen, they're not all they're made out to be. Sure, they have their little tricks, but if you can overlook that, then they're really not anything to get worried about.”
Judas mumbled something inaudible and turned his back to look out at the forest; in terms of anger, he'd calmed down considerably, though the other's overconfidence continued to irritate him.
“And if it's really of any interest to you, I got rid of those soldiers because they were in the way.”
“‘In the way’...” Judas repeated the line moodily to himself.
All of a sudden, the air beside his ear whistled like a whip as it was split by the form of a flying dagger. Its point hit the tree in front with such impact and precision that the blade sunk into the bark halfway up to its hilt.
Slowly, Judas turned from the knife to the one that had thrown it - the expression on his face could have melted steel. “How dare you-”
“I think you're forgetting who you're talking to here, my friend," the hooded man said quietly, a strong hint of menace lingering in his tone. “You seem to forget that I could kill you here and now and you wouldn't even know it had happened.”
Judas snorted. “Oh, we'll see about that.”
"Is that an invitation?" The other titled his head to the side slightly - beneath his hood, he was smiling.
“Perhaps one day...” Judas smiled deeply, as though he were having to deal with a stubborn child as opposed to someone of his own standing. “Just... Kill Justice. And make sure that you do it before he can reach that sword. Or, if that proves too much of a challenge, bring him to me so that I can do it myself.”
A small laugh escaped the man's lips. “Bring him to you? Now, why would I give you that pleasure?”
---
Kircheis raised the bottle in his hand, pressed its neck against his lips and tilted back his head. Wine dribbled down his chin, though he didn't pull away until he had drained a sizeable amount of liquid. His eyes were stained with the redness of heavy tears, yet he still managed a small smile as he watched the scene in front of him unfold.
Justice crouched in the grass opposite Wilderness, who stood several feet away, his fingers clutching a thin stick. A pink line was etched into Justice's cheek, like the mark of a whip.
“For someone who claims to be the son of a king, your fighting skills are disappointingly poor.”
The black-haired man did not answer - his eyes were everywhere, his body tense as a spring, ready to move at once if he needed to. So far, he hadn't been able to land a single hit on Wilderness, whereas his own body was aching from having been struck so many times. The Guardian seemed to hold a solid confidence in combat: strength was undoubtedly his most deadly attribute, though he was fast as well, and appeared to have a habit of calculating his opponent's attacks before they'd even moved - evidently the mark of a being who had lived out his life tenfold.
All of a sudden, the ground beneath Justice shook and tore open, leaving a chasm two or three feet across. He leaped to the side to avoid being swallowed by the earth at Wilderness' command, but the Guardian was already waiting for him. The stick in Justice's hand flew up into the air, only to drop from his fingers as the other's fist knocked his arm back and a foot slammed into his ribs. He was on the floor before he could work out what was happening.
“This is painful to watch...” Rafaga placed his head in his hands and shot a sideways glance at Kircheis, who was lying across the floor beside him. The wine bottle was gripped tightly in his hands.
It had been several hours since they'd left the shack, though by now it seemed more like days. The image of what had happened remained in everyone's minds as clearly as if it had been burned in. Perhaps it was the sustained silence during the journey that had made it seem so long and drawn-out; but even so, to think that the event had occurred in the same night was almost unbelievable.
And now, Justice found himself in the unenviable position of having to face Wilderness in a fight. How it had come to this he couldn't quite remember exactly, yet he seemed to recall having being forced into it by Rafaga as some form of questionable entertainment.
What's more, he was being beaten - badly.
Wilderness stood over him, blocking out the moon - his face was shadowed and rigidly set. “Very, very disappointing,” he muttered.
Slowly, Justice rolled onto his front and started to pick himself off the floor, but just then his hand shot out, took a hold of the other's ankle and pulled it from underneath him in a single sharp movement. The shocked Guardian hit the ground at once. Seeing his chance had arisen, Justice lunged at him with the speed of a wildcat. Wilderness' hand landed somewhere near his shoulder, his fingers sinking into a mixture of flesh and clothing and twisting until blood was drawn.
It was more than just a petty child's battle with sticks now: the fight had turned into a vicious struggle of nails and teeth. At once point, Justice realised he could taste blood, only then realising that he had torn into the other's arm.
Rafaga, seeing that the friendly match was passing into extreme levels of violence now, stepped forward to intercept, but was stopped by the touch of a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Carbuncle holding him back, a vacant look on his face as he stared at the two locked in a bloody struggle on the floor.
Eventually, it seemed, Justice fell back and swiftly edged away. Blood stuck hair to skin and ran from a split in his lips, though he could already feel the skin melting over. Wilderness appeared to be equally injured, with obvious claw marks around his neck and collar area. For a moment, the two men stared at one another, eyes narrowed, but then the brown-haired man's expression softened.
And he laughed.
It wasn't a mocking sound - rather, it was as if he were mildly entertained by something. Naturally, Justice fixed him with a questioning look.
“You amuse me,” Wilderness said, standing up. He took a moment to run his fingers through one side of his hair and reposition his clothing from where it had become dishevelled. Justice wasn't sure whether to consider his words as a compliment or not, so remained silent. Using his sleeve, he wiped away as much of the blood on his face as he could, clenching his teeth as the rough material brushed over the raw scratches.
They were in what appeared to be an endless field, surrounded for miles by nothing but wind-dried grass, the occasional gathering of thin trees and earth ridden with gentle hummocks. In the distant east, the profiles of the mountains that had caused such a stir in the meeting room were just visible against the sky. From where Justice sat, they seemed to tower above the ground, though he would remain by his decision to pass through them, rather than go around. According to Kircheis' map, the flat land continued until it met with the valley where he lived, but to cross it would waste days of valuable time, hence he was adamant upon taking the shortcut.
Now, however, it was time to rest again. Together, they had selected a large overhanging fold of land that draped over an indentation in the earth - a wild animal's burrow of some kind, perhaps. The chances of stumbling upon such an unusual thing were so fortunate that they'd decided to stop two or three hours short of dawn and take it as their shelter for the day, for fear that it would be the only opportunity they would have of finding shade before the sun rose. And now, the accompanying band of servants was dispersed around the area, gathering dry logs and branches from the trees and dropping them in a pile outside the burrow, where a large collection was slowly forming.
Since the excitement of the fight had died down, Carbuncle had begun to walk around. He bent down, inspected the proposed sleeping area and frowned deeply. “I can't believe we can be expected to spend a day in this squalor.”
“It's probably the only place for several miles around,” Rafaga replied. “Though in my eyes, I'd rather sleep in mud that burn to death come morning.”
The other mumbled in reluctant agreement.
The only servant who wasn't lending their aid to the fire-building, it seemed, was Rakina. He sat on the ground some distance behind Kircheis, out of sight and attention. His injuries had begun to heal, albeit slowly, as a human's would; and, like a human, Justice guessed that there would remain a web of scars on his back, an ever-constant reminder of what had happened.
Slowly, Justice straightened up, but just then, something soft suddenly collided with the side of his head. When he looked, he saw that it was a large square of black material, probably meant for the purpose of cleaning himself up. He glanced to the direction it had come from to see Wilderness bending down to readjust his boot. No-one else was around.
Within ten minutes, a fire had been lit and was burning noisily. It growled and snapped at the air, easily devouring the first layer of dried kindling, though once it had been provided with some larger logs, it fell to a more manageable size. Needless to say, the spots closest were reserved for the Guardians, whilst the others slotted themselves in as near as they could, eager to warm themselves as the cold night breezes began to settle.
Justice took the place set out for him, gently lowered himself onto the grass and sat with his back to the fire. All around him, the field was plain, dried up by the elements. As far as he was aware, they were still just in the Water Region, yet ironically, it seemed as though this place had not seen rain for many months - perhaps even years.
“Look, Your Majesty.”
Justice turned to see Rafaga lying on his back, his arm outstretched in front of him. His eyes travelled along his finger to a silhouette darkening the northern mountains, a shape which he took to be a building of some kind. It appeared to be many miles away, and certainly of an impressive size, considering he was able to make it out from such a distance.
“What is it?”
“I'm surprised you don't know, actually.” The shock in the Guardian's voice intrigued Justice, who waited intently for an elaboration.
“It's the king's castle.” Kircheis lay on his stomach, legs bent behind him like those of a child. He faced the fire, and in his hand he held the neck of the second wine bottle. Like poison, alcohol was a substance that took no effect on the minds nor bodies of vampires; yet perhaps the Guardian believed that if he consumed enough of it, he would be able to flush from him the memories of the slaughter that had taken place, even if it were only for a few hours.
The king's castle... Justice found himself straining to make out the figure in the darkness. One or two pointed turrets stood out from the mountains behind, but apart from that, it remained shrouded. However, there was no denying the sense of awe that pulled at him - it seemed almost unreal that he was so close to something that he'd only ever heard about in stories. At once, he realised that he wanted to know everything about it, not to mention the one who had lived there - his own father, Dreizehn Schwarzschild.
“Is it empty?”
“Empty? It's been empty for years,” Rafaga answered. The words seemed to fade into the night as a small breeze swept through the area, bending the longer stems of grass and causing the fire to falter a little. “Your Highness, you are aware of the events leading up to your father's death, are you not?” The vampire fixed him with a look that could only be described as surprise.
The flames illuminated the soft strands of Justice's hair and cast heavy shadows upon his face. To his left, Wilderness raised his head, as if something had sparked his interest.
Slowly, Rafaga's expression lit up, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
“Well, that's a relief, at least,” he chuckled lightly. “I was afraid I was going to miss out on telling you that little story myself.”
Next Chapter →
As for the story, I've reached the last chapter in my writing! There will be 30 chapters in all, plus and epilogue (and prologue, obviously). I think once I'm done, I'll take a break and work on my Steampunk pirate story. That way, I can consider a second one properly.
I've been really struggling over a title for this part, so in the end, I settled on a chess-related theme. Enjoy! Next chapter's a long one.
Chapter XVI
Grand Master
The man slammed back-first into the tree.
“What the hell was that?”
He sniggered. “What the hell was what?”
Judas snarled as he gripped the other's collar. “You know damn well what I'm talking about.”
“Oh, that?” Slowly, the hooded man's fingers wrapped around one of the hands holding him captive. “And may I ask what significance a few irrelevant lives has to you?”
Suddenly, his nails dug sharply into the flesh of Judas' wrist, forcing him to let go. Judas stared at him, scowling. “I tell you to kill one person and you slaughter an entire army. Do you like to draw attention to yourself?” He paused. “I'm not sure you understand how powerful these Guardians really are.”
The hooded man snorted. Now free to walk around, he crossed the small area and leaned one arm against a tree trunk, making sure to keep the other clearly in his sights. “From what I've seen, they're not all they're made out to be. Sure, they have their little tricks, but if you can overlook that, then they're really not anything to get worried about.”
Judas mumbled something inaudible and turned his back to look out at the forest; in terms of anger, he'd calmed down considerably, though the other's overconfidence continued to irritate him.
“And if it's really of any interest to you, I got rid of those soldiers because they were in the way.”
“‘In the way’...” Judas repeated the line moodily to himself.
All of a sudden, the air beside his ear whistled like a whip as it was split by the form of a flying dagger. Its point hit the tree in front with such impact and precision that the blade sunk into the bark halfway up to its hilt.
Slowly, Judas turned from the knife to the one that had thrown it - the expression on his face could have melted steel. “How dare you-”
“I think you're forgetting who you're talking to here, my friend," the hooded man said quietly, a strong hint of menace lingering in his tone. “You seem to forget that I could kill you here and now and you wouldn't even know it had happened.”
Judas snorted. “Oh, we'll see about that.”
"Is that an invitation?" The other titled his head to the side slightly - beneath his hood, he was smiling.
“Perhaps one day...” Judas smiled deeply, as though he were having to deal with a stubborn child as opposed to someone of his own standing. “Just... Kill Justice. And make sure that you do it before he can reach that sword. Or, if that proves too much of a challenge, bring him to me so that I can do it myself.”
A small laugh escaped the man's lips. “Bring him to you? Now, why would I give you that pleasure?”
---
Kircheis raised the bottle in his hand, pressed its neck against his lips and tilted back his head. Wine dribbled down his chin, though he didn't pull away until he had drained a sizeable amount of liquid. His eyes were stained with the redness of heavy tears, yet he still managed a small smile as he watched the scene in front of him unfold.
Justice crouched in the grass opposite Wilderness, who stood several feet away, his fingers clutching a thin stick. A pink line was etched into Justice's cheek, like the mark of a whip.
“For someone who claims to be the son of a king, your fighting skills are disappointingly poor.”
The black-haired man did not answer - his eyes were everywhere, his body tense as a spring, ready to move at once if he needed to. So far, he hadn't been able to land a single hit on Wilderness, whereas his own body was aching from having been struck so many times. The Guardian seemed to hold a solid confidence in combat: strength was undoubtedly his most deadly attribute, though he was fast as well, and appeared to have a habit of calculating his opponent's attacks before they'd even moved - evidently the mark of a being who had lived out his life tenfold.
All of a sudden, the ground beneath Justice shook and tore open, leaving a chasm two or three feet across. He leaped to the side to avoid being swallowed by the earth at Wilderness' command, but the Guardian was already waiting for him. The stick in Justice's hand flew up into the air, only to drop from his fingers as the other's fist knocked his arm back and a foot slammed into his ribs. He was on the floor before he could work out what was happening.
“This is painful to watch...” Rafaga placed his head in his hands and shot a sideways glance at Kircheis, who was lying across the floor beside him. The wine bottle was gripped tightly in his hands.
It had been several hours since they'd left the shack, though by now it seemed more like days. The image of what had happened remained in everyone's minds as clearly as if it had been burned in. Perhaps it was the sustained silence during the journey that had made it seem so long and drawn-out; but even so, to think that the event had occurred in the same night was almost unbelievable.
And now, Justice found himself in the unenviable position of having to face Wilderness in a fight. How it had come to this he couldn't quite remember exactly, yet he seemed to recall having being forced into it by Rafaga as some form of questionable entertainment.
What's more, he was being beaten - badly.
Wilderness stood over him, blocking out the moon - his face was shadowed and rigidly set. “Very, very disappointing,” he muttered.
Slowly, Justice rolled onto his front and started to pick himself off the floor, but just then his hand shot out, took a hold of the other's ankle and pulled it from underneath him in a single sharp movement. The shocked Guardian hit the ground at once. Seeing his chance had arisen, Justice lunged at him with the speed of a wildcat. Wilderness' hand landed somewhere near his shoulder, his fingers sinking into a mixture of flesh and clothing and twisting until blood was drawn.
It was more than just a petty child's battle with sticks now: the fight had turned into a vicious struggle of nails and teeth. At once point, Justice realised he could taste blood, only then realising that he had torn into the other's arm.
Rafaga, seeing that the friendly match was passing into extreme levels of violence now, stepped forward to intercept, but was stopped by the touch of a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Carbuncle holding him back, a vacant look on his face as he stared at the two locked in a bloody struggle on the floor.
Eventually, it seemed, Justice fell back and swiftly edged away. Blood stuck hair to skin and ran from a split in his lips, though he could already feel the skin melting over. Wilderness appeared to be equally injured, with obvious claw marks around his neck and collar area. For a moment, the two men stared at one another, eyes narrowed, but then the brown-haired man's expression softened.
And he laughed.
It wasn't a mocking sound - rather, it was as if he were mildly entertained by something. Naturally, Justice fixed him with a questioning look.
“You amuse me,” Wilderness said, standing up. He took a moment to run his fingers through one side of his hair and reposition his clothing from where it had become dishevelled. Justice wasn't sure whether to consider his words as a compliment or not, so remained silent. Using his sleeve, he wiped away as much of the blood on his face as he could, clenching his teeth as the rough material brushed over the raw scratches.
They were in what appeared to be an endless field, surrounded for miles by nothing but wind-dried grass, the occasional gathering of thin trees and earth ridden with gentle hummocks. In the distant east, the profiles of the mountains that had caused such a stir in the meeting room were just visible against the sky. From where Justice sat, they seemed to tower above the ground, though he would remain by his decision to pass through them, rather than go around. According to Kircheis' map, the flat land continued until it met with the valley where he lived, but to cross it would waste days of valuable time, hence he was adamant upon taking the shortcut.
Now, however, it was time to rest again. Together, they had selected a large overhanging fold of land that draped over an indentation in the earth - a wild animal's burrow of some kind, perhaps. The chances of stumbling upon such an unusual thing were so fortunate that they'd decided to stop two or three hours short of dawn and take it as their shelter for the day, for fear that it would be the only opportunity they would have of finding shade before the sun rose. And now, the accompanying band of servants was dispersed around the area, gathering dry logs and branches from the trees and dropping them in a pile outside the burrow, where a large collection was slowly forming.
Since the excitement of the fight had died down, Carbuncle had begun to walk around. He bent down, inspected the proposed sleeping area and frowned deeply. “I can't believe we can be expected to spend a day in this squalor.”
“It's probably the only place for several miles around,” Rafaga replied. “Though in my eyes, I'd rather sleep in mud that burn to death come morning.”
The other mumbled in reluctant agreement.
The only servant who wasn't lending their aid to the fire-building, it seemed, was Rakina. He sat on the ground some distance behind Kircheis, out of sight and attention. His injuries had begun to heal, albeit slowly, as a human's would; and, like a human, Justice guessed that there would remain a web of scars on his back, an ever-constant reminder of what had happened.
Slowly, Justice straightened up, but just then, something soft suddenly collided with the side of his head. When he looked, he saw that it was a large square of black material, probably meant for the purpose of cleaning himself up. He glanced to the direction it had come from to see Wilderness bending down to readjust his boot. No-one else was around.
Within ten minutes, a fire had been lit and was burning noisily. It growled and snapped at the air, easily devouring the first layer of dried kindling, though once it had been provided with some larger logs, it fell to a more manageable size. Needless to say, the spots closest were reserved for the Guardians, whilst the others slotted themselves in as near as they could, eager to warm themselves as the cold night breezes began to settle.
Justice took the place set out for him, gently lowered himself onto the grass and sat with his back to the fire. All around him, the field was plain, dried up by the elements. As far as he was aware, they were still just in the Water Region, yet ironically, it seemed as though this place had not seen rain for many months - perhaps even years.
“Look, Your Majesty.”
Justice turned to see Rafaga lying on his back, his arm outstretched in front of him. His eyes travelled along his finger to a silhouette darkening the northern mountains, a shape which he took to be a building of some kind. It appeared to be many miles away, and certainly of an impressive size, considering he was able to make it out from such a distance.
“What is it?”
“I'm surprised you don't know, actually.” The shock in the Guardian's voice intrigued Justice, who waited intently for an elaboration.
“It's the king's castle.” Kircheis lay on his stomach, legs bent behind him like those of a child. He faced the fire, and in his hand he held the neck of the second wine bottle. Like poison, alcohol was a substance that took no effect on the minds nor bodies of vampires; yet perhaps the Guardian believed that if he consumed enough of it, he would be able to flush from him the memories of the slaughter that had taken place, even if it were only for a few hours.
The king's castle... Justice found himself straining to make out the figure in the darkness. One or two pointed turrets stood out from the mountains behind, but apart from that, it remained shrouded. However, there was no denying the sense of awe that pulled at him - it seemed almost unreal that he was so close to something that he'd only ever heard about in stories. At once, he realised that he wanted to know everything about it, not to mention the one who had lived there - his own father, Dreizehn Schwarzschild.
“Is it empty?”
“Empty? It's been empty for years,” Rafaga answered. The words seemed to fade into the night as a small breeze swept through the area, bending the longer stems of grass and causing the fire to falter a little. “Your Highness, you are aware of the events leading up to your father's death, are you not?” The vampire fixed him with a look that could only be described as surprise.
The flames illuminated the soft strands of Justice's hair and cast heavy shadows upon his face. To his left, Wilderness raised his head, as if something had sparked his interest.
Slowly, Rafaga's expression lit up, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
“Well, that's a relief, at least,” he chuckled lightly. “I was afraid I was going to miss out on telling you that little story myself.”
Next Chapter →