Sell Sword

Chaos engulfed Eldermire as flames consumed buildings, casting flickering shadows on terrified villagers desperately fleeing for their lives. Sir Gerald stood defiantly in the village center, sword drawn, surrounded by enemy knights whose armor gleamed menacingly in the firelight.

"Throw down your weapon and kneel," commanded one knight, his voice cold and authoritative. "Pledge your loyalty to your new ruler, soon-to-be Viscount Reynard. Refusal means death."

Gerald squared his shoulders, eyes blazing with unyielding defiance. "My loyalty is to Baron Alric alone," he declared resolutely. "I would rather die than betray my oath."

"So be it," the knight replied coldly.

In an instant, Gerald was overwhelmed by several knights, forced brutally to his knees. He struggled fiercely, but they held him firmly. Without ceremony, the enemy commander stepped forward and delivered a swift, merciless blow. The villagers watched in horror as Gerald's lifeless body fell forward, blood pooling beneath him.

From the shadows, Ren saw a young messenger sprinting desperately from the village, dodging arrows and soldiers as he raced toward the baron's estate to deliver the grim warning. Ren's chest tightened, hoping desperately the boy would reach safety.

A scream pierced the air nearby, wrenching Ren's attention away. Lyra struggled against a soldier who grasped her wrist cruelly, his intentions clear in his malicious grin. Fury surged within Ren, drowning out caution and rational thought. Beside him, Toren's face contorted with similar rage.

"Let her go!" Toren roared, charging recklessly at the soldier, wielding nothing but a farming scythe. Ren followed closely, sword gripped tightly, heart hammering with desperate courage.

The soldier turned with practiced ease, drawing his sword swiftly. In a brutal moment, he cut Toren down, the older man's expression of defiance frozen in shock as he collapsed lifelessly.

"Toren!" Ren cried, horror and grief wrenching his voice. Without hesitation, he lunged at the soldier, fury guiding his blade. His strikes were frantic and wild, driven purely by emotion rather than skill. Two more soldiers quickly closed in, overpowering him easily. Ren was forced roughly to his knees, weapon knocked from his hand, wrists painfully restrained.

Lyra screamed again, struggling fruitlessly as she was dragged away by another soldier. Ren thrashed against his captors, anger and despair overwhelming his senses. He shouted her name helplessly, his voice raw and desperate.

The soldier who had killed Toren approached Ren slowly, a twisted smirk on his face. He leaned down, his voice mocking. "Brave, but foolish. What should we do with this one?"

Another soldier stepped forward, observing Ren with cold calculation. "He's spirited. Lord Reynard might find use for him as a laborer or a conscript. Bind him securely and throw him in with the others."

The soldier nodded, roughly pulling Ren to his feet. Pain and anger coursed through Ren, but resistance now was futile. He was dragged forward, glimpsing the burning remains of the village, the bodies of friends and neighbors lying still in the streets.

As he was forced toward captivity, Ren's grief hardened into resolve. They had taken everything from him—his village, his guardian, his friend. But they had also ignited a burning determination within him. He would survive. He would find Lyra, and he would make them pay for the devastation they had wrought.

Ren sat hunched in a dark, cramped cell, wrists chafed raw from heavy iron shackles. Time blurred together, each passing moment filled with unbearable uncertainty. Lyra's terrified face haunted him endlessly, his inability to protect her gnawing deeply into his soul. Despite his anguish, a spark of determination smoldered quietly within him, refusing to extinguish. He replayed the last moments in the village, each second a fresh wound, fueling his desire to never feel helpless again.

Word spread quickly throughout the captured territories: Baron Alric had been publicly executed, and his family had narrowly escaped, fleeing the keep moments before the brutal arrival of Baron Lucien Voss. Ren felt a hollow pain hearing the news, despairing for the land he called home. Whispers among the prisoners painted Lucien as a ruthless conqueror, swiftly crushing resistance and showing no mercy to those who opposed him. Fear hung thickly in the air, palpable and suffocating.

Days dragged by in darkness until Ren was roughly dragged from his cell into harsh daylight. Blinking against the blinding sun, he glimpsed Lucien Voss clearly for the first time. Lucien stood tall and imposing, his robust frame clad in dark, ornate armor emblazoned with his family's crest—a snarling wolf upon a crimson field. Silver-streaked black hair framed his sharp features, and his piercing grey eyes radiated cold, ruthless ambition. Even from afar, Ren could sense the man's unwavering hunger for power.

The village square was crowded, villagers forced from their homes to witness Lucien's terrifying display of dominance. Fearful whispers and muffled cries echoed softly, an undercurrent of despair permeating the crowd. Lucien stepped forward, his voice carrying clearly over the hushed assembly.

"Behold the price of defiance! Let this serve as a lesson—this is the fate awaiting those who resist my rule." His words cut sharply, leaving no doubt about his intentions.

Lucien drew a broadsword from its scabbard, flames erupting violently along the blade in an intimidating show of elemental magic. Ren stared defiantly back into Lucien's merciless gaze, holding fast to his courage, refusing to lower his head or betray any hint of fear, despite his racing heart.

"Any last words, boy?" Lucien asked mockingly, a sneer twisting his aristocratic features.

Ren stood taller, summoning every ounce of bravery he could muster. "You'll pay for this," he stated firmly, voice clear despite the terror clawing at his heart. "Every cruelty you've inflicted will return tenfold."

Lucien's eyes narrowed dangerously, the flames dancing on his blade casting sinister shadows across his face. "Bold words from a dying man," he sneered, raising his flaming sword high.

But just as the blade swung downward, a sudden commotion erupted at the edge of the crowd. Chaos quickly rippled through the assembled villagers. Ren felt strong hands seize him, pulling him sharply aside. Lucien's blade struck the ground instead, sending sparks flying into the air. Confusion surged through Ren as he tried desperately to understand what was happening.

Before Ren could fully comprehend, he found himself face-to-face with Ser Daemon Graves, the imposing knight commander who had led the invading forces. Daemon towered over Ren, his scarred face fierce yet oddly reassuring. Short-cropped dark hair framed his hardened features, and deep-set hazel eyes carried silent authority and grim determination.

"Come quickly, if you want to live," Daemon muttered urgently, quickly severing Ren's shackles with a concealed dagger. Ren stared at him incredulously, heart pounding.

Though confusion clouded Ren's mind, he understood the dire urgency and nodded sharply. Daemon swiftly led him through narrow alleyways, maneuvering expertly and avoiding Lucien's shouting guards with practiced ease. Questions flooded Ren's thoughts—why had this enemy commander chosen to risk himself?

After evading their pursuers, they finally reached a secluded clearing on the outskirts of the ravaged village. Daemon paused, turning to face Ren seriously. "Your courage impressed me. Lucien rules through fear and brutality, not loyalty or honor. I've grown tired of serving a tyrant who has forgotten the meaning of true leadership."

Ren stared in disbelief, his breathing uneven as he struggled to comprehend this sudden, unlikely twist of fate. "Why save me? What could I possibly mean to you?"

Daemon's stern expression softened slightly, his eyes revealing a hidden layer of quiet resolve. "I sense potential in you, Ren. Your defiance reminded me of something I'd forgotten. Perhaps you can help undo the terrible injustice wrought by Lucien someday. But first, you must survive and grow stronger. Find allies and prepare yourself for the challenges ahead."

Ren's thoughts immediately flashed to Lyra, desperation edging his voice. "Do you know where they took Lyra? She was captured—I have to find her!"

Daemon shook his head solemnly, genuine regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Ren. I don't know her location. But I promise you, I'll do what I can to find out. For now, you must flee—it's your only chance."

Ren took a deep, steadying breath, gratitude mingling with determination, filling him anew. "Thank you, Ser Daemon. I won't forget this kindness."

Daemon placed a firm hand on Ren's shoulder, meeting his gaze directly. "Stay alive. Your journey is just beginning."

With a final nod, Daemon turned back toward the village, swiftly disappearing into the shadows. Ren took a deep breath and steeled himself, stepping silently into the forest beyond, carrying renewed hope and unshakable resolve. He would survive, find Lyra, and grow strong enough to confront Lucien Voss. Whatever the cost, he would reclaim all that had been stolen from him.