***

  BANG, BANG, BANG!!!

  A repeated loud knocking woke Zander from his slumber; his eyes opened slowly before he closed them again because of light spilling through the windows. Zander pulled the woolen blanket over his head with a moan. It is far too early for this. Just poison me now. Take me, Gods! Please, I won’t complain at all! The bang repeated against the door to his room as if the Gods were showing Zander contempt. Bah, you all never paid attention to me anyways.

  “Lord Zander! Lord Zander! You have to come see this! They sent me to get you!” a voice screamed through the door as the knocking continued at a frantic pace.

  Zander took one of his feathered pillows, ever intent on drowning the sound out, and placed it over his head. But the sounds of Dragon Crest’s warning bells roaring to life spurred him into action quicker than any man could wake him. Zander cursed his life and mumbled something about poison as he jumped out of bed. He twirled around in the room, looking for his pants.

  Where is the servant girl when I need her? He noticed his pants crumpled up on the floor, lying near his bed. Zander wobbled over to them, bending over to retrieve them and quickly pulled them up over his waist before securing them.

  “Are we under attack?!” Zander asked, making his way quickly to his door and opening it immediately. The door groaned with the seasoned aged hinges in dire need of proper oiling. I wonder why all the hinges squeak in the castle.

  “No, Lord Zander! At least I do not think so,” the boy yelled. Zander winced at catching the full audio force of the announcement with no door to buffer his eardrums. The messenger’s eyes went wide, staring at a shirtless Zander. “I am sorry, My Lord,” he apologized quickly.

  “Alright! Alright! Tell them to cut noise!” Zander yelled at the guard down the hall. “If I am awake, then only drunks and the lucky dead are left asleep!”

  “Sir!” the guard replied with his fist to his chest before motioning for a replacement from another post to take his spot before darting off at a run to carry out Zander’s order. Even after all these years since being raised to the peerage and given responsibilities, Zander thought the notion of him giving any orders was ludicrous. What right did a former slave have to be in a critical position to give anyone orders? But as far-fetched as it was, here he was in charge of the defense of Dragon Crest and the safety of Danyais’ greatest treasures. The King’s two children, Crown Princess Arinah and her younger brother Prince Ryghton.

  Zander pivoted, spotting the shirt he wore yesterday draped over the back of the chair pushed under his desk. Leaving the doorway, he walked over to it using his right foot, hooking one of the chair legs with it and pulling it out, the wood scraping across the wooden floor while he struggled to put the shirt on. Zander sat down in the chair, pulling the shirt finally over his head. The young boy was looking at him curiously just outside Zander’s door.

  He is probably wondering how I got in charge. You and half the other bloody nobles, also kid.

  Zander’s story was widely known throughout the kingdom. Many tavern bards often told tales of him and sang songs of his comedic and sometimes heroic platitudes. The slave friend of a king who was raised to the peerage due to bravely fending off an assassin’s poisonous dagger meant for King Danyais, nearly almost costing his life. Or of the story of the goat in the royal quarters, which seemed to be a favorite of everyone.

  Zander’s eyes quickly scanned the room again, looking for his boots. With his hand, he flung the covers draping over the edge of his mattress back on the bed, exposing the boots just tucked underneath. He fished his boots lazily out from under the edge of his bed with his feet.

  A slave was still a slave, after all. It would take generations for his family to erase the stigma of being branded as such. Never mind the fact Zander thrashed and outperformed most of King Danyais’ generals in mock battles and siege warfare. He often out maneuvered the nobles in their schemes, mostly out of boredom or pettiness. Even more importantly, King Danyais appointed Zander himself to the position; therefore, there should be no qualms about his status within the kingdom. A lot of Zander’s current success was due to Clyden’s harsh and forced education the magus subjected him to. He feared the magus’ threats of stopping time in his body and dressing him in a suit of armor. The picture of being left to collect dust in some corridor of Rose Claw if he did not submit to the magus’ forced curriculum was all too vivid.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Thinking back, Zander wished he had paid better attention to the lessons he was allowed to attend with Danyais when they were young, a special privilege granted to him by the former king. Out of all the curriculums Zander was subjected to, he only paid attention to two topics. Sword fighting and court etiquette. Sword fighting because what boy did not want to slay dragons and vanquish their foes? Etiquette because it always pissed his teachers off that he acted the part of a wild heathen animal around them, forcing them almost to multiple aneurysms but would be the epitome of nobility the next when in view of any nobles other than Danyais. Later, when he was older, Zander realized etiquette would work on the ladies and it was off to the races for him. At this point, Zander figured he could even out king the king with his manners.

  “What is your name, boy?” Zander asked, looking around his desk for the pitcher of ale from last night. Spotting it, he noticed there were no glasses. One of the servants must have grabbed them already, but it did not stop him from raising the pitcher to his mouth, guzzling the last few gulps down. The kids’ eyes could not hide their shock at seeing a noble gulp ale from a pitcher. “Have to have breakfast,” he smiled at the boy. “Your name was what again?”

  “Oh, I am Yancey, Lord Zander,” he said, bowing the best he could, trying to hide his embarrassment.

  “Alright. Yancey, what is it that I have to see?” Zander asked, smelling the collar of his shirt, his nose scrunching up in reaction to the odor infused in it.

  “Follow me, my Lord. I have them saddling your horse already. I do not have the words to describe it. You just have to see it,” Yancey said, taking off at a run.

  “Try,” Zander was saying, but he cursed Yancey’s quickness as he watched the boy disappear around the corner. Quick as rabbit, that one.

  Zander grunted as he slipped his boots on and exited out of his room at a brisk walk, trying to catch up to him. Zander never managed to catch up with the young messenger until he arrived at the stables. Yancey sat atop his horse, already waiting for Zander. A stable boy led Zander’s saddled horse, War Hag, a really inappropriate name that did a disservice to the horse since it was the sweetest animal in the King’s stable. The horse’s demeanor was nothing like the person who gifted it to him, whom Zander named it after.

  Yancey was looking nervously at the lowered gates of Rose Claw leading out into the city. “Open the Gate!” a guard yelled. The gates groaned as the portcullis rose in preparation for their departure. Wendell of the King’s Guard was standing there with ten of the King’s Guard.

  “Secure the eggs,” Zander said, ordering them to keep Danyais’ children safe, “and Cina,” he added while mounting War Hag. The men and Wendell touched their fists to their chest before disappearing back into the castle quickly. At least they don’t give me any pushbacks.

  Zander rode towards the rising portcullis. When it was just high enough, he ducked under it, with Yancey and several of the King’s Guards following him, escaping into the city of Dragon Crest. Some of the guardsmen sped up their horses and were already screaming for the streets to be cleared. Although the warning bells had already done most of their job for them. They picked up speed as the streets emptied, riding towards the main western gate. Zander could see the guards on the wall rushing down the walkways, converging on the same point he was being led to by Yancey. As Zander neared the massive gate, the warning bells finally went silent.

  Laying in front of a smaller door built into the larger gate, he saw a man breathing heavily, sitting down, and leaning his back on the door. To the left of the man on the ground was a black war glaive. Witch Devil, it’s Clyden. Zander’s mind raced with a sudden surge of fearful thoughts. Zander pulled on the horse’s reins, dramatically slowing its pace; he hopped down before the horse even stopped, covering the rest of the distance on foot. Kneeling, Zander grabbed Clyden’s shoulders and jostled him.

  “Clyden, what is going on? The King! Where is Danyais?” Zander fearfully asked.

  Clyden’s eyes opened weakly, and he pressed a note into Zander’s hands. Clyden spoke in broken, incomplete sentences, born of exhaustion. “The soldiers, are they ready? Prepare… now…Sukkan tomorrow…battle…” sucking in breaths between words, “at least twenty…I must stay…” he trailed off as exhaustion took him, Clyden slumped into Zander’s arms.

  “Clyden! The King!” Zander said, pushing Clyden back against the wooden door he was leaning on initially. When the exhausted magus did not respond, Zander sucked in a long breath filled with uneasiness.

  “Is he dead, Lord Zander? I have never seen a dead man. Who is he, my lord?” Yancey asked, firing off a quick sequence of excited questions.

  “Don’t be daft!” Zander said, momentarily looking at the giant gate, his eyes traveling up the wall. “Hey, you up there!” he yelled at a guardsman at the top of the wall. The man looked down, eyes widening in disbelief. “Stop gawking and send for a doctor.” Zander opened the note and was relieved when its contents revealed the King was safe, at least for the time being. The letter was a set of instructions Clyden wrote for the impending battle with Sukkan. If they failed, then King Danyais would die. “Don’t cha worry, Clyden. I know what to do. I will even make sure you sleep comfortably,” he said, smiling. Zander looked back up the wall and shouted at another guard, looking down at them, “Bring me a carpenter!”

  ***