Chapter 57: Hand of the King (Patreon)

“As members of the Brugh family, the fact is that you stand as one of the last bastions of resistance we have against the forces of Avaria,” King Arnoud said, looking out at the three assembled sons of House Brugh. “The Avarians live in a land of frigid cold, centering their society around a volcano. There are far fewer of them than there are us… but they’ve mastered the art of monster taming, of raising slave soldiers to fight and die for them. Without sufficient vigilance, they would overwhelm us. And if they breach the mountain pass your family guards, there’s no telling if we’d be able to stop them.”

Three of the king’s royal knights walked up, and then deposited their swords at the feet of Lennard, Hans, and Godfried.

“It’s for that reason that I’ve brought you here to be reformed,” King Arnoud said. “There is disharmony among you. That cannot be tolerated. Your father nearly passed away, and yet you fell into infighting almost immediately. You need trust. You need unity. You need to walk forward in the same direction in lockstep. Because if you don’t, the armies of Avaria will tear you asunder.”

The three Brughs looked at the weapons and at the king uneasily.

“It’s my opinion that you’ve not sufficiently reformed,” the king said simply. He drew his sword, and its dark blade seemed to draw in the light. Arnoud planted its tip in the ground, then rested both of his hands atop the pommel. “As such… there need to be more drastic changes.”

“Your Majesty?” Lennard asked uncertainly.

The three royal knights that had dropped their swords left the room, leaving King Arnoud alone with the three scions of House Brugh.

“There are three of you,” Arnoud said. “Sufficient to pass a majority judgement without contention. I want you to vote amongst yourself about who needs to die to make things right. Then, the two of you that voted will carry out that sentence with my supervision.”

“What?!” Godfried said loudly, then looked to Lennard and Hans before glancing back at the king. “Your Maj—”

“Vote,” he interrupted firmly, voice sharp and unwavering as his golden-brown eyes peered upon Godfried. “Choose one among you to excise. I would recommend Hans. You and Lennard have become cooperative. Hans refuses to demonstrate any commitment to change. He would be a troublesome element should one of you ever rise to power.”

Hans exhaled in shock. He stood in the middle—he looked to both of his brothers, and then at the king. “This is a test, right? You want to see how united we are.”

“If you refuse to vote, I’ll kill one of you myself,” King Arnoud said firmly, the faintest hint of bloodred aura coalescing around his blade. “If you do vote, nothing will go amiss. You have my word as sovereign of all Ravenveld—no one will even know what happened here today, unless you speak of it. It’ll be a mere accident… or a poisoning, perhaps.

“And Lennard…” Arnoud looked over. “When you accede your father, I’ll raise you to the title of duke. I’ll grant you the county of Gent as your vassal, further cementing your importance to the realm. Godfried will be granted the title of baron, serving as your vassal in one of the lesser fiefs.”

Silence spread in the hall they stood in. Hans’ breathing was rapid and troubled as he looked between his brothers. He tried to say please, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

Then… Lennard kneeled down and grabbed the sword, holding it up to the king. “Hans, pick up your sword.” He exhaled shakily. “You’re right. I think His Majesty is testing us.”

Godfried followed not long after, then gave Hans a pat on the shoulder. The youngest child let a single tear go before also picking up his sword, and holding it out.

The king looked between them. “Last chance.”

“I’ve made my decision,” Lennard said firmly. Godfried confirmed that perspective.

King Arnoud lifted his sword, and a red mist began to rise from the ground, filling the room. He drew the main-gauche attached to the back of his belt. “Very well.”

King Arnoud, sovereign of all Ravenveld, stepped forward and swiped his sword wide. An arc of red aura erupted forth toward the three brothers. They all became ready for combat immediately. Godfried’s green aura sprung forth, while Lennard and Hans both manifested the golden Brugh aura taught to them by their father. They battered against Arnoud’s wide attack, overcoming it.

“I only wish to kill one of you,” he said, his maroon aura following his body like a shadow as he walked closer. “Keep that in mind as we fight. At any moment… you can renege, and sacrifice one of your brothers. Even though I suggested you, Hans, I’m not opposed to leaving Godfried or Lennard bleeding here.”

Arnoud raised his hand up, and a great pillar of aura rose up into the training hall, nearly piercing the roof. Then, the king swiped, and the brothers were forced to separate—Lennard and Hans going left, while Godfried went right. The king seized upon that, rushing at Godfried ferociously. Godfried raised his sword up in defense, but didn’t dare attempt any counterattack. The king was still the king.

Godfried was agile, trained in the Dubois family method. Godfried leapt around the hall agilely, deflecting the king’s blows enough only so that he could dodge. The king, meanwhile, had a rather unique fighting style—it incorporated methods of the Dubois family while primarily retaining the ferocity of the Ravenveld’s style, famed for its berserk, savage mannerisms. Godfried was hard-pressed.

“My mother often sparred with me in the Dubois style,” Arnoud talked as he fought. He feinted, causing Godfried to parry wrongly. Arnoud lunged out with his aura-infused main-gauche, breaking Godfried’s aura, hooking his blade, twisting his arm, and slamming his knee right underneath the man’s armpit. Godfried dropped his weapon and coughed from the impact. “You’re much worse than her.”

Arnoud seemed poised to jam his dagger in Godfried’s skull, but Lennard lunged, swinging his sword at the king with a hail of gold trailing it. The king swiped with his black blade wreathed in red and met the attack, allowing Godfried to stumble back to retrieve his sword.

“Good,” Arnoud praised as Lennard backed away after their clash. “You understand the situation, Lennard.” The king stepped forward, his blade empowered. “You’re the heir to Baron Tielman. You should be capable of at least that much.”

Lennard, rather than meekly defend, rushed forward with aura empowering his blade. Arnoud devoted his full attention, meeting Lennard’s attack with one of his own. Lennard delivered powerful slash after powerful slash, but the king met each with equal power.

“The heir to Baron Tielman… a title your skills are insufficient for. Your father is best compared to a horse. He begins slow, but builds to an intensity that never wavers. He would run until his heart gave. Like a horse, when he bears down upon a man… they break before the charge. The Brugh family aura is known for overwhelming power… but what is this?”

Arnoud’s power grew as he and Lennard continued to clash. Each hit the king gave was slightly more powerful, and blow by blow, Lennard was made small before the never-ending onslaught of the king. From behind, Godfried and Hans both charged at once, Godfried thrusting while Hans delivered a full-powered overhand swing.

King Arnoud didn’t even look at Godfried’s attack—he caught it with his aura-infused main-gauche, broke Lennard’s aura to deliver a kick to his jaw, and then dodged Hans’ attack as though it were nothing. The slash bore into the ground at full force, but the training hall held firm. Arnoud stabbed at Hans just after, but the man received the attack and slid back from the intensity.

“And you,” the king said contemptuously as he stared at Hans. Lennard had been knocked to the ground from the kick, and held his jaw with one hand as he stood. Godfried still seemed hesitant to attack the king. King Arnoud walked forward. “Hans, the youngest child. The weakest of them. No exceptional talents, yet with an ambition to pierce the sky. Your only ability seems to be treachery—playing both ends against the middle, in the hopes that one day you might stand atop it all.”

King Arnoud walked toward Hans with his gaze steady. Lennard and Godfried regrouped, and tried to attack the king from his blind spot. Somehow, the king saw all of what they did. He battered aside their blows even as they attacked from behind, elegantly swiping his main-gauche to deal with Godfried and overpowering Lennard as though it were a simple matter to deflect the heir of House Brugh. Hans tried to help, but the king seemed to read his movements better than he could, dodging even as he dealt with the other two brothers.

When Godfried, in rampant frustration, overextended, the king seized on the opportunity brutally. He hooked Godfried’s sword with his main-gauche once more, then kneed the man’s wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon. When Lennard approached with an attack to cover, he pulled Godfried around to use as a shield. Lennard staggered, desperately aiming his attack elsewhere.

Arnoud elbowed Godfried in the face, then kicked his sword to the other side of the room. As Godfried fell to the ground, he rushed the staggering Lennard, who tried to mount a resistance with a wild swing. Arnoud ducked it, then rose up to jam the pommel of his sword in Lennard’s chest. With his aura strengthening him, he lifted Lennard off the ground and tossed him aside a solid twenty feet.

“Then there was one.” The king turned to Hans, walking forward. “The weakest, fit only for killing common soldiers.”

Hans stabbed out, but the king sidestepped the attack easily and delivered a devastating kick to Hans’ knee. The man fell to the ground, and his sword dropped from his grip. Arnoud kicked him, casting him onto his back, and then slammed his boot on the man’s chest.

“I am not your ally!” King Arnoud shouted. “I am your sovereign. I value stability, merit, and constancy. I will overlook nothing.”

Hans coughed feebly, and the king glanced at Godfried and Lennard. Godfried vacillated between retrieving his weapon and helping Hans, while the other was too far away to make a difference.

“But you were right in one respect,” the king said, looking down at Hans. “This was a test. If you were capable of proving your unity in the field of battle, I intended on giving no punishment. I can tolerate minor insubordination in the face of genuine talent.”

Hans looked up at the king, struggling against the boot without success.

“I respect you were steadfast enough to fight alongside your brothers, but I know your type. This was nothing more than temporary solidarity. You have the blood of Dubois—it’s strongest in you. No matter what lessons I put you through, your kind cannot learn without facing consequences.”

Arnoud raised his sword up, red aura swirling, and swung it down. Hans’ scream echoed throughout the whole of the training hall. After, his pained struggles followed. The king removed his boot from Hans’ chest. His aura ate away the blood on the black blade.

“You’ll cause no trouble without your sword hand,” Arnoud said, then put away his blade. He looked at Lennard and Godfried, who watched with horror. “I suggest you take him to be treated.”

Leaving that behind, the king walked calmly out. Godfried and Lennard ran up and kneeled by Hans, who looked at his missing hand in horror. Both of them looked toward the king, hesitant to move. He opened the door to the training hall.

“Count Nicolas,” said the king, his voice fading as he walked away. “Bring me those documents that the royal mint sent over. I want to look over our currency output. It occurred to me that I need to once again consider the idea of—"

The door shut, leaving Godfried and Lennard alone with Hans, who writhed about in pain.

“Come on,” Godfried said, grabbing Hans’ arm. “We need to stop the bleeding. Lennard, take off your shirt to wrap his hand.”

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