"He is mute," one of the guards said, a slow, barely contained laugh escaping his lips.
KABOOM!
Thunder cracked as rain fell arrogantly.
Zavry stood silently in front of the large castle gate, his eyes calm and downcast, his body trembling lightly. His clothes were torn all over—he looked no less than a beggar. In his hands, he held a book-like object with a simple message written on it:
I need to see the prince.
Two men—the guards nearby couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous it sounded.
How could someone like this possibly request to see a prince? His black hair was disheveled and wet, his calm blue eyes holding a flicker of pain as the rain soaked his head.
The two men stood beneath the gate's upper shelter, which shielded them from the rain. The clouds had darkened ominously.
"Hahaha! You sure are some local comedian. Oh, I'm soooo scared," the huge guard said, his voice thick with sarcasm, as the other continued laughing despite the rain.
"And what makes you think we'll just open the door, prince of Rags?" he added, looking straight at the young boy who didn't appear older than nineteen.
It had already been almost thirty minutes since the boy arrived, standing quietly with that strange paper in his hands as the ink began to fade from the rain. They were outside a certain castle in the hidden kingdom of Heer.
"Let him be. I'm guessing he's not only dumb but deaf too."
They broke into another round of laughter—then suddenly turned serious.
As if that alone would make the young boy leave. Instead, he remained there silently, staring at the floor, his body trembling lightly with nearly contained fear.
"Leave now, boyo. You have nothing important to do here. Get out. You won't have any blood designs on the floor in a few seconds, will you?" one man's gaze darkened deeply as he spoke, his voice annoyed. He then added, "The rain will wash it away anyway."
Yet the boy still remained where he was, his head bowed, body trembling.
"Look at him trembling like a chicken pushed into hot water. What could he possibly need the prince for? This is disrespect to the prince—and this boy needs to be dead for such an insult," the other man said, pulling away his sword with a frown, his face tightening as he moved.
"Calm down. Do not take the law into your own hands. We have to report this to the prince," the other guard spoke.
The first man turned to him, looking as if he'd lost his mind.
"Are you stupid? You want us to inform the prince about what—a mute, trembling boy who wants to see him?"
He raised his sword.
"Either we kill him, or we inform the prince and risk our own heads rolling," he said, his tone almost annoyed. With that, he lifted the blade toward the boy.
But just as he swung, the figure moved back swiftly, causing the blade to slice through the air. The sharp sound echoed through the pouring rain, and the guards' eyes widened.
The boy's head, which had been lowered, finally lifted—revealing blue eyes that had once seemed pained but now glimmered with blazing excitement.
"I may be mute," a voice echoed in their minds, "but I'm definitely not deaf."
Their eyes flew wide in disbelief.
W..Was that the boy?
But… his mouth hadn't moved. How had he spoken into their heads? How was that even possible?
"Why the hesitation, gentlemen?" the voice continued. "You looked so happy just moments ago to slice off this neck."
The boy tapped his neck lightly, his expression unreadable, lips curved in a cold grin.
The men trembled. He was speaking directly into their minds.
W… What is this?
"All I asked," the boy said in their heads, now holding out his hand, "was for you to open the gate."
In a flash, a sword-like object materialized in his palm. Their eyes widened in horror.
"Not like I can't get in myself," he added casually as he walked, the blazing red sword casting light over the dark, rainy place, "but where's the fun in just walking in and killing the prince, hmm?"
"K-Kill the prince?!" both guards gasped, their faces draining of color.
"Tch. Why the stammer?" the boy said mockingly.
Then came a slow, spine-chilling laughter that echoed in their heads, spinning through their senses until their vision blurred.
The guard holding the sword dropped it with a clatter. His legs were rooted to the ground—he had never felt fear like this in his entire life.
"Quite interesting, don't you think… the fear I taste?" the boy tilted his head slightly. His lips remained shut, yet the words echoed in their minds.
"P-Please…"
SHHNK.
The man who had dropped the sword earlier collapsed with a thud, his head rolling across the wet ground. His eyes opened and rolled back as rain fell into his open mouth toward Zavry—whose lips stretched into a wicked grin.
"It wouldn't hurt to inform the others that one guard is already down, right?"
The second guard opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came. His voice was gone. He stared, trembling, as Zavry gently pulled the severed head to his foot and began playing with it like a ball—bouncing it off his legs before kicking it high into the air.
The head soared over the gate, landing inside the castle walls.
"They deserve to know the news?" Zavry's voice echoed again, deep and twisted with amusement.
The remaining guard's legs gave way beneath him. He couldn't scream. Couldn't even breathe properly.
SLASH…
His head hit the ground next as water splattered softly.
Zavry stepped forward, catching his disappearing sword as it flew back into his grasp. He bent down, picked up the head, and spun it in his hands.
The prince needs to see his little treat,' he whispered in his head with a chilling chuckle.
Blood was everywhere—on the ground mixed with the rain, his face, and his tattered clothes.
Not for long—the rain washed it away.
A distant scream pierced the air—a clear testament that someone had seen the head.
Zavry's brow lifted slightly, his lips curling into a predatory smile.
'That's more like it… where were I?' he spoke to himself as thunder struck loudly.
'Oh right, the prince.'