A bright moon peered through the scattered clouds as night started to bloom across The prince of the Citadel of Hope was bored and decided to join the guards on the inner city walls. He was only twenty-four years old when he discovered his calling. A great swordsman and leader of men, young Nanthal has started well in earning the respect of the people of his kingdom and, most importantly, that of his father.
A night on patrol
“All good, my Lord?” a friendly guard greets Prince Nanthal as he and another are on watch.
“Yes, all fine. “Do you two mind if I take the patrol with you? Sleep is not my friend tonight, and I need some excitement before the day is Nanthal asked ever so politely.
“Our pleasure and honor, your highness,” the one guard greets as they both bow and follow him in rank.
“Any strange activity tonight?” an inquisitive Nanthal asks as his eyes flow down to the streets and rooftops of the buildings below the citadel walls.
“The normal pickpockets were there, and there was a dead member of the thieves guild found, but nothing that strange, my lord,” he replied sternly.
Nanthal stops for a while to take in the late-night city life. He sees drunkards making a ruckus at the one tavern and smiths working late at night.
As he was turning back to the guards, he noticed a strange rapid movement. as if the shadows themselves were pounced upon from one dark corner to the next.
Nanthal signaled for the guards to be quiet and showed them what he was seeing. “Let’s gather some men and find out what that is.” “I have a bad feeling about this men.”
Racing down the stairs in a great burst of speed, the prince moved hastily in search of the phenomenon that had entered his domain. The guards, struggling to keep up, quickly lose sight of their young lieutenant.
Nanthal was blessed with great natural talent and showed an early love for swordplay, but he also excelled in most of the kingdom’s most challenging events. From horse racing and archery, to leading a small group of men to save the mining settlement of Escarth from a wild-ling attack, he has added many accolades to his name. Although he studied mist engineering and arcane magic, which are greatly practiced and used in The Citadel of Hope, it did not excite or engage Nanthal on any level.
Something is a foot.
As he reaches the top of an alley, behind the Glowing Ale tavern, he notices in the corner of his eye a black, shadowy figure move away from him. “This way, men!” Nanthal shouted at the guards, who were still quite some distance away.
His running reached a crescendo as he pushed himself to his limits. His heavy armor clanked loudly as each step landed loudly on the cobbled streets. Steam was shooting out from pressure releases as the evening maintenance started. Reaching a dark turn in the alley, Nanthal’s grip on his hilt moves swiftly to release the secured clasp, and he draws his sword.
Reaching the corner, he pauses for a moment to catch his breath and slowly moves to look around the corner. His gaze is drawn to a masked man pinning an aristocrat against the wall.His one hand was over his mouth, and his other arm pointed towards his abdomen. In horror, Nanthal watches as a wrist-mounted blade shoots into the captive’s body. The victim squirms in pain, and his painful moans struggle to breach the hands of his murderer.
The victim’s legs buckle underneath him as his strength leaves his pain-filled body. Slowly, the blades emerge from his body, dripping blood onto the stone.The assailant then regains his pose, resets his blade, and, aware of his onlooker, turns his eyes and meets the prince’s gaze.
“Don’t follow me, young man,” he says in a deep, raspy voice, and runs towards the dark end of the alley.
He felt his focus return after breaking free from the fear that had gripped his body.He gripped his sword tightly and shouted, “Halt!” “Guards, regroup!” he called out with a new-found sense of justice. He restarted his pursuit of the masked man and quickly found himself on one of the eight main roads that lead from the citadel and out of the city. Guards formed a few meters behind him. He turned to them and said, “Fan out men; alert the guards at the gates; a masked man in dark gray padded armor just killed a man.” “My Lord!” They acknowledged his command, and with their orders given, they quickly moved out.
“Who was this murderer?” “I can not let this act go unpunished,” Nanthal thought to himself. The night alarm slowly filled the late-night air. Taverns close by emptied out as people came out to see the prince and his guards inspecting the slain diplomat. “I need to speak to the council; bring me my horse and bring four of my personal company,” he commanded a guard. “Secure the area and make sure this man is wrapped and delivered to the friar.”
As soon as his horse and the company arrived, he set off. The moon lit the roads as they searched and followed the tracks for four hours. “My Liege,” Garter, his second in command, said, “We need to get back.” We know in which direction he fled. This and the killing itself will give us some evidence to bring to the council.” Nanthal sighed heavily and nodded. “I suppose this will have to do.” “It was an elven diplomat, Garter, close friends of the ancient high-elf family,” he said as they turned around.”We need to handle this as delicately as possible,” Nanthal said with resolve.
“We shall meet the council and keep this from unraveling, my Lord; our king is wise and will give as many good options to keep the peace as possible,” Garter re-assured Nanthal. With the sound of horses’ hooves, they chased back to the Citadel of Hope, determined to preserve their prince’s honor.
Sourced:
http://rakesh-nair.blogspot.co.za/2013/08/blog-post.html
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