In the Name of Justice: Chapter III
Since I now speak bad German, I've altered a lot of the crappy German names to still-cringe but less-cringe versions. Rüstung-Kranz is now just Kranz.
As if Asagi actually named a character Leidenschaft.
Link to old Chapter III
Chapter III
The Last Night
Kranz shook his head. “You shouldn't say such things.”
“And why not?” Dreizehn spun and marched towards his servant. “The world wouldn't mourn my passing. If the people of this country knew what I really was, they'd have hunted me down years ago. My whole life has been built on lies. How can you know what that's like?”
Despite the king towering over him, Kranz did not back down. “I can't pretend to know what that's like, no. All I ask is that you consider your decision properly.”
Hearing Kranz's words, Dreizehn pulled back and apologised. He rarely let his emotions rise to the surface, even among his closest companions.
“I made my decision long ago. Now it's just a case of finding the courage to carry it out.”
There was a finality to the king's words that made Kranz pause. For a few minutes, silence reigned across the hall. Then Dreizehn said, “Does Rosalie know?”
Kranz shook his head. “I didn't tell Her Highness. Neither did the gardener. We didn't tell anyone.”
“Good.” Dreizehn lifted his head. Through the stone walls, he could hear footsteps, the voices of servants starting their night shifts.
Kranz shuffled on the spot, a question he seemed reluctant to ask lingering in his eyes.
“I don't know when I'll do it,” said Dreizehn. “Maybe in a few days. Maybe tonight. But rest assured that I will not leave this kingdom on its knees.”
As the king walked past, Kranz turned his eyes to the floor. His mouth felt dry, his head spinning with the news he'd feared. “Of course, Your Highness,” he whispered.
By the time he looked up, Dreizehn was gone. He was alone.
---
The moon sat nestled behind a sheet of cloud, the ground still slightly wet from the evening's scattering of rain. Justice pulled his cloak around him as he climbed back up to his house. He felt the best he had in days.
A few drops of blood from the doe still clung to his sleeves, shining against the black. It had been an easy kill, a simple drop from a tree, then a tear to the throat to finish her off. Deer were some of the most skittish animals around, and even worse in groups - the moment one of them sensed danger, the whole herd would be off, and Justice was in no condition to chase them across the forest. Luckily, the female had been alone.
A breeze swept up the hill, and once again, Justice gripped his cloak tightly. His skin was still peeling in places and sensitive to the touch, but overall, he'd made impressive progress since his sunburn three days before. Within the week, it would be like he'd never even gotten injured in the first place.
His house came into view ahead of him. Justice jogged the rest of the way, crossed into his garden and paused.
Something was wrong.
He couldn't put his finger on it exactly. It wasn't a scent or a sound, but intuition, like the feeling of walking into a room and knowing that someone had just left. He turned around, scanning the trees for any signs of movement that wasn't caused by the wind. Then he looked up.
Justice spotted the black shape just before it leapt from his roof. He dived sideways, narrowly avoiding being landed on. A dagger flashed in the darkness. With superhuman speed, the figure lunged for him. Justice jumped back. He dodged a swipe from the blade, then made a grab for his attacker's wrist. His fingers curled around a sleeve.
The blade bit into his lower arm, opening up the skin. Hissing in pain, Justice jerked his hand holding the sleeve up, throwing his attacker for just a moment. It was all the time he needed to slam his shoulder into the figure's chest, knocking them to the ground.
A sound like knives grating on glass filled the air. Only after the figure pulled back their hood to reveal a young man's face did Justice realise it was a laugh.
“Julius told me you'd be good.”
Justice froze. He should have made the connection sooner.
Growling, the man pushed up from the ground and lunged towards Justice again. By this time, Justice had his own dagger in hand. He slashed at his attacker, their blades connecting with a clang. Pain from Justice's wound shot up his arm, making him wince. Sensing an opening, the man tried to swipe down towards his leg, but Justice was faster. His boot met the man's stomach hard, sending him reeling back.
“Get off my property,” Justice snarled.
The man smiled again, revealing teeth. “For now.” He took a step back, then turned and sprinted into the forest.
Justice stood panting, his dagger gripped tight in his hand. Only when he was sure the vampire was out of sight did he let himself relax.
Julius had warned him about this. The 'elite group' King Monrey had sent to Marthiel could only mean vampires. Justice had thought they'd head straight to the village in the north to find the Schwarzschild Sword. Perhaps they wouldn't have even bothered to find him if Julius hadn't told them where he lived.
By the time Justice entered his house, his head was swimming with thoughts. He lit a few candles around the room. Then he filled a bowl with water from the jug on the mantelpiece, took a clean rag from his cupboard and sat down at the table.
The Kingdom of Marthiel. If it could even be called a kingdom anymore. A cold, sleepy country, made up of mountains and forests and landlocked on all sides, ruled by the tattered remnants of a monarchy few people could remember.
Justice hadn't been alive when the last king, Dreizehn Schwarzschild, had taken his own life, but like most people, he knew the story. Lacking an heir, the king had passed on the power to his four knights, who had each taken a quarter of the country to rule in his stead. Yet before he died, the king had instructed a sorcerer to seal his soul into a sword and hide it in the forest. Whoever found the sword and pulled it from the ground would become the new king of Marthiel. It was a tale told to children at night alongside those of witches and dragons. Travellers passed it along and drunks debated it over tankards of beer.
Of course, everyone had their own version. Tweaks added in here and there to make it sound more impressive. One variation claimed that anyone who touched the sword would drop down dead on the spot. Another said that someone had actually retrieved the weapon and brought it to the king's castle, only to be murdered and have his head mounted on a pike by the Guardians, who were reluctant to give up their rule.
Despite what Julius had told him, Justice was still unsure how much he believed the legend, although there was one thing he was certain of.
The king had not died without heirs.
Justice pulled back his sleeve and wiped at the cut on his arm, which was slowly closing up. He'd known about his royal parentage from a young age. Dreizehn had left him alone in the world, and he couldn't conjure a single memory of his mother. With his royal blood, Justice had more claim to the throne than any one of the knights - or Guardians, as they were now known. If he wanted to, he could probably march up and take over the throne as the legitimate heir.
And yet, in his thirty years of life, he hadn't once had the desire to reveal himself. He doubted the Guardians even knew of his existence, and if he was honest, he was happy to keep it that way forever. Of course, he'd toyed with the idea of revealing who he was, but it was as distant a fantasy as him sprouting wings and flying. What did he know about running a country? He was content where he was.
When all the blood had been wiped from his arm, Justice ran a hand over the remains of the wound. Only a pink line remained, and soon that, too, would be gone. It was the ultimate defence mechanism. Vampires were always regenerating, never ageing beyond a certain point. Justice's face hadn't changed in five years. In a century, he would still appear to the outside world to be in his twenties, frozen in time yet very much alive.
Just like the Guardians and the king before. Vampires, all of them. That was another piece of information Justice had kept hidden away. It was funny, in a way: everything Justice knew could tear the country apart. In Marthiel, where townspeople lit bonfires to ward off spirits and hung bone carvings above their windows to keep demons from their houses, the knowledge that their rulers were vampires would cause an uprising overnight. Not that anyone could tell the difference as it was. The Guardians were so aloof, so seldom seen, they might as well have been ghosts. Some people suspected they didn't even exist, but were rather concepts created to keep the lords and dukes of the land in line.
Well, Justice thought, he would find out soon enough. The vampire that had attacked him had travelled alone. Clearly, the goal had not been to kill him, but rather to confirm where he lived. Which meant that others would be on the way. Every moment Justice stayed here, he was risking his life.
There was no way around it. He was going to have to leave his home.
Justice pushed back his chair and lay his cheek on the table, breathing in the slight musty smell of the wood. He raised his eyes to the window and the small square of dark cloud he could see through it.
The sight of Julius' face, his mocking tone as he'd described the casual burning down of the village, swam around his head. He curled his hand into a fist. Julius may have warned him to spare his own conscience, but there was a sense of gloating there, too. He knew there was only one place Justice could go.
Deep down, he'd always known he would eventually have to reveal who he was to the Guardians. He just hadn't anticipated it being so soon.
Besides, it might not be that bad, he thought to himself. And who knew? If he impressed them enough, perhaps they'd decide not to mount his head on a pike after all.
Next chapter→
As if Asagi actually named a character Leidenschaft.
Link to old Chapter III
Chapter III
The Last Night
Kranz shook his head. “You shouldn't say such things.”
“And why not?” Dreizehn spun and marched towards his servant. “The world wouldn't mourn my passing. If the people of this country knew what I really was, they'd have hunted me down years ago. My whole life has been built on lies. How can you know what that's like?”
Despite the king towering over him, Kranz did not back down. “I can't pretend to know what that's like, no. All I ask is that you consider your decision properly.”
Hearing Kranz's words, Dreizehn pulled back and apologised. He rarely let his emotions rise to the surface, even among his closest companions.
“I made my decision long ago. Now it's just a case of finding the courage to carry it out.”
There was a finality to the king's words that made Kranz pause. For a few minutes, silence reigned across the hall. Then Dreizehn said, “Does Rosalie know?”
Kranz shook his head. “I didn't tell Her Highness. Neither did the gardener. We didn't tell anyone.”
“Good.” Dreizehn lifted his head. Through the stone walls, he could hear footsteps, the voices of servants starting their night shifts.
Kranz shuffled on the spot, a question he seemed reluctant to ask lingering in his eyes.
“I don't know when I'll do it,” said Dreizehn. “Maybe in a few days. Maybe tonight. But rest assured that I will not leave this kingdom on its knees.”
As the king walked past, Kranz turned his eyes to the floor. His mouth felt dry, his head spinning with the news he'd feared. “Of course, Your Highness,” he whispered.
By the time he looked up, Dreizehn was gone. He was alone.
---
The moon sat nestled behind a sheet of cloud, the ground still slightly wet from the evening's scattering of rain. Justice pulled his cloak around him as he climbed back up to his house. He felt the best he had in days.
A few drops of blood from the doe still clung to his sleeves, shining against the black. It had been an easy kill, a simple drop from a tree, then a tear to the throat to finish her off. Deer were some of the most skittish animals around, and even worse in groups - the moment one of them sensed danger, the whole herd would be off, and Justice was in no condition to chase them across the forest. Luckily, the female had been alone.
A breeze swept up the hill, and once again, Justice gripped his cloak tightly. His skin was still peeling in places and sensitive to the touch, but overall, he'd made impressive progress since his sunburn three days before. Within the week, it would be like he'd never even gotten injured in the first place.
His house came into view ahead of him. Justice jogged the rest of the way, crossed into his garden and paused.
Something was wrong.
He couldn't put his finger on it exactly. It wasn't a scent or a sound, but intuition, like the feeling of walking into a room and knowing that someone had just left. He turned around, scanning the trees for any signs of movement that wasn't caused by the wind. Then he looked up.
Justice spotted the black shape just before it leapt from his roof. He dived sideways, narrowly avoiding being landed on. A dagger flashed in the darkness. With superhuman speed, the figure lunged for him. Justice jumped back. He dodged a swipe from the blade, then made a grab for his attacker's wrist. His fingers curled around a sleeve.
The blade bit into his lower arm, opening up the skin. Hissing in pain, Justice jerked his hand holding the sleeve up, throwing his attacker for just a moment. It was all the time he needed to slam his shoulder into the figure's chest, knocking them to the ground.
A sound like knives grating on glass filled the air. Only after the figure pulled back their hood to reveal a young man's face did Justice realise it was a laugh.
“Julius told me you'd be good.”
Justice froze. He should have made the connection sooner.
Growling, the man pushed up from the ground and lunged towards Justice again. By this time, Justice had his own dagger in hand. He slashed at his attacker, their blades connecting with a clang. Pain from Justice's wound shot up his arm, making him wince. Sensing an opening, the man tried to swipe down towards his leg, but Justice was faster. His boot met the man's stomach hard, sending him reeling back.
“Get off my property,” Justice snarled.
The man smiled again, revealing teeth. “For now.” He took a step back, then turned and sprinted into the forest.
Justice stood panting, his dagger gripped tight in his hand. Only when he was sure the vampire was out of sight did he let himself relax.
Julius had warned him about this. The 'elite group' King Monrey had sent to Marthiel could only mean vampires. Justice had thought they'd head straight to the village in the north to find the Schwarzschild Sword. Perhaps they wouldn't have even bothered to find him if Julius hadn't told them where he lived.
By the time Justice entered his house, his head was swimming with thoughts. He lit a few candles around the room. Then he filled a bowl with water from the jug on the mantelpiece, took a clean rag from his cupboard and sat down at the table.
The Kingdom of Marthiel. If it could even be called a kingdom anymore. A cold, sleepy country, made up of mountains and forests and landlocked on all sides, ruled by the tattered remnants of a monarchy few people could remember.
Justice hadn't been alive when the last king, Dreizehn Schwarzschild, had taken his own life, but like most people, he knew the story. Lacking an heir, the king had passed on the power to his four knights, who had each taken a quarter of the country to rule in his stead. Yet before he died, the king had instructed a sorcerer to seal his soul into a sword and hide it in the forest. Whoever found the sword and pulled it from the ground would become the new king of Marthiel. It was a tale told to children at night alongside those of witches and dragons. Travellers passed it along and drunks debated it over tankards of beer.
Of course, everyone had their own version. Tweaks added in here and there to make it sound more impressive. One variation claimed that anyone who touched the sword would drop down dead on the spot. Another said that someone had actually retrieved the weapon and brought it to the king's castle, only to be murdered and have his head mounted on a pike by the Guardians, who were reluctant to give up their rule.
Despite what Julius had told him, Justice was still unsure how much he believed the legend, although there was one thing he was certain of.
The king had not died without heirs.
Justice pulled back his sleeve and wiped at the cut on his arm, which was slowly closing up. He'd known about his royal parentage from a young age. Dreizehn had left him alone in the world, and he couldn't conjure a single memory of his mother. With his royal blood, Justice had more claim to the throne than any one of the knights - or Guardians, as they were now known. If he wanted to, he could probably march up and take over the throne as the legitimate heir.
And yet, in his thirty years of life, he hadn't once had the desire to reveal himself. He doubted the Guardians even knew of his existence, and if he was honest, he was happy to keep it that way forever. Of course, he'd toyed with the idea of revealing who he was, but it was as distant a fantasy as him sprouting wings and flying. What did he know about running a country? He was content where he was.
When all the blood had been wiped from his arm, Justice ran a hand over the remains of the wound. Only a pink line remained, and soon that, too, would be gone. It was the ultimate defence mechanism. Vampires were always regenerating, never ageing beyond a certain point. Justice's face hadn't changed in five years. In a century, he would still appear to the outside world to be in his twenties, frozen in time yet very much alive.
Just like the Guardians and the king before. Vampires, all of them. That was another piece of information Justice had kept hidden away. It was funny, in a way: everything Justice knew could tear the country apart. In Marthiel, where townspeople lit bonfires to ward off spirits and hung bone carvings above their windows to keep demons from their houses, the knowledge that their rulers were vampires would cause an uprising overnight. Not that anyone could tell the difference as it was. The Guardians were so aloof, so seldom seen, they might as well have been ghosts. Some people suspected they didn't even exist, but were rather concepts created to keep the lords and dukes of the land in line.
Well, Justice thought, he would find out soon enough. The vampire that had attacked him had travelled alone. Clearly, the goal had not been to kill him, but rather to confirm where he lived. Which meant that others would be on the way. Every moment Justice stayed here, he was risking his life.
There was no way around it. He was going to have to leave his home.
Justice pushed back his chair and lay his cheek on the table, breathing in the slight musty smell of the wood. He raised his eyes to the window and the small square of dark cloud he could see through it.
The sight of Julius' face, his mocking tone as he'd described the casual burning down of the village, swam around his head. He curled his hand into a fist. Julius may have warned him to spare his own conscience, but there was a sense of gloating there, too. He knew there was only one place Justice could go.
Deep down, he'd always known he would eventually have to reveal who he was to the Guardians. He just hadn't anticipated it being so soon.
Besides, it might not be that bad, he thought to himself. And who knew? If he impressed them enough, perhaps they'd decide not to mount his head on a pike after all.
Next chapter→