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In the thick of snow, a brown haired young man lay unconscious face down. Voices from a patrol squad rang out overhead as soldiers in white military uniforms argued over what they should do. The young man heard it all, but he could not be bothered to react physically to the action around him, that would require much more energy than what he had.
Eventually, the party of soldiers made up their minds and lifted him onto a stretcher. He was to be taken to their base. A warm blast of air hit his face as they carried him inside a technological advanced building with surveillance cameras every three meters and excessive amounts of glass. He wondered what was advanced civilisations’ deal with using glass everywhere inside their buildings. Whilst massive glass panes looked pretty, they were not particularly useful in dangerous situations. In fact, they usually were the opposite.
The soldiers eventually moved him onto a bed in a brightly lit white room. They placed shackles on his hands which lead to a metal link in the corner to ensure he does not try to escape. Inwardly, the young man laughed, no one could lock him up if he truly wished to escape. Fortunately for the soldiers, right this instance, the young man had decided that he merely wanted to sleep.
*
Ace was staring blankly at the battle plans projected on the hologram screens in front of him as he sat in his glass box known as an office. He had been in the Glisten Fort for three weeks now, the expectations and pressures are high, but he was struggling to make headway. His country was at war, they were being invaded and he was in charge of defending it as well as launching counterattacks.
He ran his hand through his shiny blonde hair. He grew up in the palace learning what to say and what to not say, leading an army was not particularly high on the curriculum, especially when he was the Third Prince. In fact, it wasn’t on the curriculum at all.
“Your Highness,” a familiar male voice belonging to a man of late forties came from the other side of the frosted glass door. Though the walls were see through glass with colour changing and changing opacity abilities, Ace did not understand why the door was chosen in particular to be frosted glass.
“Come in, Nyal,” Ace called out.
Major Nyal Sachley was in his mid forties despite looking somewhat older than his age. His defining feature was a roughly trimmed thick beard around his mouth, which he wore with pride. He had short light brown hair and deep emerald eyes. Ace had known him for over a decade and looked to the older man as a mentor.
“What is it now?” Ace asked, his tired blue eyes shutting itself as the dryness of his eyes caught up with his overuse of them along due constant staring at hologram screens.
“The patrol squad found an unconscious man at the borders of our territory,” Nyal said, standing tall in his white military uniform, which was the standard for the Kingdom of Parisora.
Behind the desk, Ace wore a very similar outfit. “Is he a Opalian spy?”
“We do not believe so,” Nyal answered, “his appearance is not Opalian and his clothing is strange.”
“In what manner?” Ace pushed.
“He wore a long black robe,” Nyal answered. “Like a priest during church service but black and more sophisticated in design.”
Ace frowned. “No one wears robes in this day and age.”
Nyal nodded in agreement. “He was lying in the snow, clearly underdressed for the weather, yet he did not die of hyperthermia before the patrol squad reached him.”
Even Ace thought that to be strange, northern Parisora is known for its cold and unforgiving winters. “Let me know when he wakes up,” Ace said.
At that very moment, Nyal’s digital watched dinged. He looked down and pressed the side of the watch, causing it to project a hologram screen before him. “It seems like he is awake, Your Highness.”
Ace raised an eyebrow in surprise, “I’ll go question him now.”
“Surely there’s no need,” Nyal began.
“I want to get out of the office anyways,” Ace told him stubbornly as he got up to leave. He always hated the office.
*
The young man’s eyes flashed open, he felt refreshed, so he sat up, though his ghastly white skin may suggest otherwise to normal human beings, but it meant nothing to him. Around him were white padded walls on three sides and a glass wall on the fourth which was where a frosted glass door was. He looked down, his black robes were still there, torn and stained with multicoloured blood, not that the colours showed up at all on an all-black material.
There was a young soldier in white uniform staring in at him from behind the glass wall. The young man smiled in amusement, this was an unexpected turn of events, not that he minded. He got off the bed and sat on the ground, staring up at the light. It was blinding, it hurt his eyes, but light had always hurt his eyes. He turned away to investigate the source of his chains. It was simple enough, nothing he could not escape from.
The door buzzed as a young man with straight long blonde hair and striking blue almond eyes walked in. He had a long face and tall nose with all his features in a ratio that many would consider handsome.
“I’m Ace,” he introduced himself. “Who might you be?”
The young man’s wide set upturned brown eyes twinkled in amusement, he smiled a little too. “They called me Five.”
Ace raised an eyebrow. “As in the number five?”
The young man nodded with a cheeky smile. Ace could tell that it was not the full story. “What’s your real name?”
“Why would you want to know?”
“You’re my prisoner, you should answer what I ask,” Ace said.
The young man scoffed. “Entitled.” After a short pause, he asked: “Can I have a mirror first? I wish to see what I look like.”
Ace frowned, the young man had multiple cuts all over his face, but ignoring that, there was also a scar across his left cheek. His sharp gaze and high cheekbones made him look fierce yet mysterious, that unsettled Ace. “Why?”
“Because, I don’t always look the same,” the young man answered.
“If I showed you what you look like, would you tell me your name?”
The young man nodded in response.
Ace pulled out his cellphone and snapped a picture of the young man before showing it to him. The young man appeared pleased with what he saw.
“Claude,” he decided to say, “Claude Van Dysher.”
Ace frowned, that was a strange name, it didn’t sound Parisoran. “Where did you come from?”
Claude shrugged, “you ask a lot of questions.”
Ace could not resist a chuckle, “you are a prisoner in my fort.”
Claude glanced around thoughtfully. “One question each, how’s that?”
Ace chuckled. “Fine.” He could not understand why he would play along to such a ridiculous request, but he wanted to, so he did. He was in a good mood.
“What’s your full name?” Claude asked.
“Acelin Yonsor.”
Claude did not seem to recognise it, which surprised Ace, after all, Yonsor was the surname of the royal family who ruled the Kingdom of Parisora.
“Where are you from?” Ace asked.
Claude thought about it for a long while, “I wish I knew.”
Ace raised an eyebrow, “have you lost your memories?”
Claude shook his head, “I was on a battlefield, and then I should’ve died, and then I woke up here.”
Ace frowned, so he was either Opalian or Parisoran, yet Claude’s appearance made him question that as the stranger did not look to be of either descent.
“Are you Opalian?”
Claude tilted his head and asked: “Are you a prince?”
Ace looked slightly surprised. “I asked you a question.”
“You’ve asked me three in a row,” Claude argued calmly.
Ace chuckled and replied: “I’m the Third Prince of the Kingdom of Parisora.”
Claude looked as if he had a wave of realisation hit him. “You are at war with Opalian.”
“So are you Opalian?” Ace asked again. “Deserted soldier? Or perhaps a spy?”
Claude shrugged looking rather bored. “How uncreative, why must I be Opalian?”
“Your name and physical features suggest you are not Parisoran,” Ace told him. Though neither did he look Opalian.
Claude laughed. “Don’t judge a book by its cover they say.”
“Well, judging people by appearances is human nature,” Ace defended himself.
Claude chuckled. “Not criticising you, but I believe I’m neither.”
“Then what are you?”
Claude got up from the ground and patted down his black robes. “I am, a wanderer.”
Ace laughed in amusement. “You are a slippery snake.”
Yet Claude merely smiled, “I am a wanderer,” he repeated. “Not a snake.”
“What is your business here?” Ace asked.
“That’s two questions in a row,” Claude said, dodging the question.
Ace laughed again, “I like you, but until you start talking, you can’t go anywhere.”
Claude rolled his eyes, the smile remained on his face. “I don’t need to go anywhere.”
“Surely you don’t want to be locked up,” Ace said.
Claude merely shrugged. “It makes no difference to me.”
Nyal knocked on the frosted glass door, “Your Highness, a message from the King.”
Ace gulped, how exciting. He inwardly groaned but made care not to show his discontent on his face. As he left the cell, he pulled up a hologram screen from his watch. There was no notifications, no new messages. He frowned, “I haven’t received anything.”
“His Majesty called via video meeting,” Nyal answered. “He is presently waiting for you in meeting room number three, all other high ranking officers have been notified to be present.”
Ace sighed, that was the nice way of saying everyone was waiting on him, again.
Being the Third Prince, the third in line has its very limited privileges, but the downside is that he is often forgotten. Clearly, someone forgot to inform him that he had a meeting with his father, that someone likely being his father, the King.
*
Men and women of varying ages sat on the two sides of the meeting table. A hologram of the King who was in his early fifties was projected on the centre of the long oval table. As Ace walked in, all heads turned to look at him in a judging manner. They all wore white uniform and were all military leaders under his command, though he wondered how many would actually follow his orders.
“Ah, Acelin, good of you to join us,” his father’s projection scoffed.
“Father,” Ace bowed his head meekly as he quickly sat down at his seat at the head of the table, “I overslept,” he lied. It was common for him to lie. If he said someone forgot to tell him, then that someone would be in big trouble, it’ll set off an unwanted chain of events. Over the years he learnt it was easier for his father to misunderstand him than it is for the older royal to learn and believe the truth.
King Raynior wore a white embroidered tuxedo suit, symbolic of the royal family. He stood in what Ace assumed to be the great gathering hall for whatever reason and had a look of severe disappointment on his face, which Ace was quite familiar with.
“I was assured that the war would not last longer than three months,” King Raynior scowled. “Three months limit is upon you, Acelin.” He was talking about how some random old military geezer had promised that within three months, Ace would be perfectly capable of driving the Opalian army out of their territory and invade a substantial amount of Opalian land. Ace thought those advisers were over their heads and indeed they were. Clearly they thought war no bigger a deal than giving a crying child a toy to silence them.
Ace lowered his head further, “Opalian has surprised us on all fronts, we’re struggling to predict their next move.” It was a weak attempt at trying to persuade his father to reconsider the set goal of his front.
“You don’t wait for your opponent to tell you their next move in war!” King Raynior bellowed. “It is not an educated game of chess! You are wasting our supplies! I ordered for you to drive them out of my country AND MAKE THEM PAY!”
“I am sorry father,” Ace sighed inwardly, Once again, he was the disappointment of the family. He wondered if his two older brothers and one older sister got the same treatment, or if their errors get easily disregarded due to their father’s favouritism. He swore that the Crown Prince of Parisora could get away with anything, including getting caught naked and drunk in a nightclub.
“You are a prince! Acquire the same mass of land those awful Opalian tried steal from us, give them a taste of their own medicine, or die trying!” King Raynior roared in anger.
Ace trembled under the pressure of his anger. It was not the first time his father had threatened such a thing, it certainly will not be the last. He once thought he no longer got hurt by his father’s disappointment in him, but apparently he was wrong. He bit back the tears that had gathered just out of sight, he will not cry, not here, not now.
The projection vanished and Ace sighed outwardly this time, he turned to high ranking officers, “any ideas?”
The thin wrinkled old lady with dead hazel eyes and a long nose that was always in everyone else’s business spoke first, she was Colonel Wrenyssa Holler who oversaw the medical unit. “Your Highness, the medical supplies would not be sufficient for any form of aggressive engagement presently.”
It was swiftly followed by a comment from Major Ambrose Holler, Wrenyssa’s cousin, who oversaw the artillery units, “if we attack now, our weapons supply would be too low to maintain a sufficient defence here at the fort.”
“So we’re sitting ducks whilst they pick off all our watch towers and platoons,” Ace grumbled.
One by one the officials all came forward with their concerns, it was clear that none of they wanted to make a move on the nearest Opalian base which was the Howlite Castle. Eventually the noise became so unbearable for Ace that he just stormed out, leaving the frosted glass door swinging wildly behind him.
*
In his office, Ace turned the glass opacity to full so that it was white and fog like. He paced back and forth in his office anxiously, not quite knowing what he should do. Nyal followed in after him.
“Your Highness?”
“I know I should not have done that, Nyal,” Ace ran his hand through his hair, his anxieties building up.
Nyal folded his hands across his chest. “Do you believe what they said?”
Ace looked at him in confusion. “Why would I not?”
Nyal sighed. “You really are naive, Your Highness. They simply do not want to fight in the war, losing rural territory means nothing to them.”
“But why not? We’re being invaded!”
“Not at Glisten Fort though,” Nyal pointed out. “War has consequences but none of that has effected anyone at Glisten Fort directly, except at worse, subordinates who are ten steps too far removed from the fort. It is our watch towers on the borders that are being attacked. We merely watch it happen from the safety of this fort.”
Ace knew he was right, he took a deep breath in, “what would you do?”
Nyal merely shook his head, “it is not my place to say.”
“But I want to know,” Ace said stubbornly.
Nyal sighed, “I would attack their supply line,” he said, “cut off their supplies and they’ll be doomed, it’s the middle of winter and snow is all around us.”
— Author’s Note —
1. Prequel of sorts to the After Dark Trilogy (Levi [mortal] x Ghost Runes [Shadow])
2. Builds on previous novels and storylines, plenty of easter eggs if you know what you’re looking for (like always)
3. “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” used for inspiration of battle plans
4. Timeline takes place between books 1 and 2 of my new Artefacts of Destitia Trilogy (Matt [Bounty Hunter] x Blood Warlock [Shadow]).
5. Twitter: REALNineRings
6. Please vote 😀
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