A bloodied, armoured figure, slowly limps along the stone path. His dented armour slipping from his frame and revealing torn flesh.
With each bloodied step and fractured huff, he forces himself towards an old almost run down stronghold with wooden constructs.
"Sir!" He barks at the top of his lungs, bursting through those heavy doors as they groan.
Tearing through the idle chatter in the room goes quiet, still.
Every head turns, their focuses changed, all looking at the bloodied figure.
Their faces are so clean, so well fed.
Same goes for the clothes on their body, long and spotless, some are flamboyant.
"The king was so generous, wasn't he?" A man sips his wine, his cheeks swelling into a plumpy red.
If only they knew…
The bloodied figure's voice echoes only in his own mind.
His sword drags—Not because of weight, but from the strength he's lost long since.
The people cover their ears against the screech, their faces looking at him as if a horrid monster comes walking through.
Heh… If they think this is a sight, they should've been there.
His head, tilting between looking ahead and right at the ground.
The man's eyes blinking, with each blink feels like it could be his last.
The waiters with their stocked up black and white dressing all look at the man.
Their bodies quiver from head to toe.
The trays on their hands shake in sync with blade's screech.
The same shiver ran through his bones.
They all stare… all looking lost like sheep.
His inner voice, spiteful as a viper.
...But…No help at least?
Blood drips from his mouth as he looks at the people.
…
A lone piece of gold rolls forward, its movement slow yet loud, dominating the silence.
The banners above sway with little to no energy—but with what wind?
Almost like they want to fall…
Then above everything, the only person sitting up high.
The bloodied man's eyes catching a clothed vision of him—The one above.
My great lord.
A slight smile drawn against his face, his teeth painted a red yellowish tint.
The lord sitting high upon his gilded throne, draped in luxury, surrounded by shimmering bars and ornaments of gold and silver.
My power…
No… Our power!
The bloodied figure forces himself forward.
...What me and fallen breathen fought for—Are still fighting for!
He grits his teeth, while his sword clanks on the stone floor.
The lord, fixing his gaze on him, his face wrinkling upwards.
I–I need to tell him….
Mustering all the strength in his legs as it shakes.
Moving towards him as his dented breastplate echoes his fractured breath.
Crimson stains on the once polished steel…Thick, wet. The crest on it, tarnished, unrecognisable…
All drying to a dull brown crust.
His right leg buckles each touched the ground, dragging it across the polished ground.
Leaving a slick, dark smear that widened with each gruntled, agonizing step.
"Ughn! That smell?!" A lady uses a cloth to cover her rather big nose.
"Eww!" Other ladies follow.
Like drones to a queen.
The metallic scent of the blood and armour clings heavy to the air.
An eerie silence looms over the people.
"...Mosa?" An old man with his voice breaking halfway.
The bloodied figure, Mosa, his sliced and dirt riddled ears pick up in the old man.
W-Wait… who is tha—
His eyes dotting around the place.
They finally focus on the old man, standing with his obese figure as the goblet in his hand slants.
Well…What a sight for sore eyes.
A light beat envelops within his heart, his eyes widening.
Almost wouldn't have recognised him…
If it wasn't for his signature bulk…
Hehe…
It's that bastard Snoino…
It is sure good to see his blobby face.
Haha!
A smile illuminating from his dry and parched lips.
The silver goblet in his hand fully drops to the ground—as if it had lost all meaning.
He rushes towards Mosa…
The silver clatters.
The wine spills, making the floor bleed.
"Oh no…Mosa my boy…" His arms widening as he gets closer with each step.
ZAPP—
ARGH!
S-Shit…
Mosa, his legs twisting under him feeling boneless, tilting towards the hard floor.
Quickly, he uses blood and rust stained sword to stop himself from kissing the marble.
Only his right knee touching the ground, his left knee still upright…Although bent.
He huffs for the taste-filled air as eyes gaze upon him.
Some of worry, hate and disgust.
…My chest—
ACK ACK!
"Oh charitas…This is disgusting." A woman's white bony hands cover her mouth as she turns her head away.
"...." A man with badges in his left chest, gripping the sword on his waist.
One of his knuckles, red.
Just…What is this…?
The man strokes his seemingly scattered yet burly mustache.
Blood droplets spatter on the ground below Mosa.
His vision, hazy.
M-Mine?
Suddenly, he feels more flowing against his lip. Using his free hand to cover his mouth shut.
But alas, blood flows through the gaps on his fingers, dripping on the ground.
Snoino finally reached Mosa as he extends his chubby hand to him with his brows slanting upwards.
Huh…Actually surprised that he can move that quick…
"Hahah—"
—ACK! ACK!
He holds Mosa, supporting him. Rust and blood stain his odd yet fitting miscoloured clothes.
"Hehehe…" Mosa, air forcing out of his mouth.
"Still wearing those your weird styles huh…" The air thinning in his lungs.
"W-What h-happened?" Snoino's voice slightly high pitched.
Mosa, teetering between light and darkness as an evening beam softly pounces in him.
His lips slowly parting and shaking.
But instead of words, air just wheezes out of his mouth.
"C'mon speak my boy!" Snoino leaning in a little closer, his voice sounding soft.
The lord leans in closer, his fingers tapping on the thrones edge with cat's eyes fixed on Mosa.
"They…T-They…came…"
"They came…" The Adam apple in Mosa's throat feeling like it could fall out of his mouth.
Snoino gently pressing his hand below his breastplate and directly on Mosa's chest.
His hand subtly shudders.
It feels the hollowness in his chest, how his lungs are fighting to pump air.
Mosa, fidgeting as his mouth slowly gaps open.
"T-They… T-Those bastards!" Mosa vibrates with his brows wrinkling his eyes.
His muscles tensed up.
His body, shaking.
I have to… I just…
Mosa gnashes his teeth together shut.
More blood drips from his mouth, more thick with Gravity's pull gaining strength with each drop.
"No…Save your strength…" Snoino's fatherly voice…
No…he was something like that…
If not better…
He raises his head up and shouts.
"Someone get me a damn healer!"
"Or are you all just dumb?!" His voice slams right into Mosa's ears.
"Y-Yes sir…" A lone waiter bows. His body still having residual shock as he moves away.
Forgetting his tray mid-air.
"...What is…the meaning of all this?" The lord grunts as he clenches the edges of the gold.
He gets up as the gold and silver behind him slightly reflects.
Walking with each step oozing authority.
"Mosa…" The lord's cape flowing as he descends.
"My lord" Snoino bows while still holding Mosa. The rest of the people there all bow to the lord as well.
"His name is Mosa right?" His voice condescending but not intentionally.
"Yes sir!" Snoino answers, head still bowed down.
Then he marches down, his foot stepping on the gold and silver as they clatter.
He moves closer towards Snoino and Mosa on the ground, the people all just watching him.
He looks at Mosa's bloodied image… staring at the body while his mouth hums sternly.
"You're armour…That crest…"
"I take that you're from the garrison defence division…" All just gaze at him as he speaks.
He squats his legs, revealing his lean yet bulging claves and a sword with a golden hilt.
His cape rolling in the ground even more.
"What exactly happened?" His voice like stone, cold as he looks directly at Mosa.
That voice… that thick presence.
I-It must be the lord…
This is my chance!
"..." Mosa speechless…his blood dripping is the only sound coming from him.
"...Sir…" Words wheeze out of his desert lips.
—The end of chapter 1—