The Bloodstained Throne
1435 Words
Aureliana Palace – Throne Room
DUARR!
The grand doors of the palace burst open. The cold night air swept in, carrying the scent of iron and death.
Seated atop the golden throne, Prince Edric sat with a rigid posture, his sharp gaze piercing through the gathering of nobles in the great hall.
Below him, a knight in uniform lay sprawled on the floor, blood dripping from his lips.
“Treason,” Edric’s voice was flat, cold. “You know the punishment, don’t you?”
The knight gritted his teeth but said nothing.
Standing beside Edric was a towering man—General Magnus, the prince’s right hand. He smirked cruelly before drawing a dagger from its sheath.
Without hesitation, the blade plunged into the kneeling knight’s shoulder.
"ARGHH!"
A scream of agony echoed through the throne hall.
The nobles took cautious steps back, yet none dared to speak.
Edric remained unmoved. He took a sip of red wine from his goblet, gazing down at the writhing knight with a vacant expression.
“I despise traitors… but I despise weak men even more.”
DUGHH!
Magnus yanked out the dagger and kicked the knight onto the cold floor.
A guard swiftly stepped forward, grabbing the nearly lifeless body and dragging it away. A crimson trail stained the pristine white marble.
Finally, Edric rose from his throne. His piercing blue eyes scanned the nobles, now trembling in fear.
“Remember this well.”
His voice sent a chill through the room.
“Anyone who dares to defy my throne will meet the same fate.”
A suffocating silence filled the hall.
None dared to meet the prince’s gaze for too long.
Edric stepped down from his throne, his movements precise and commanding.
Magnus grinned in satisfaction. “What are your orders, Your Highness?”
Edric turned to his general. Then, in a voice as cold as death, he uttered:
“Prepare the army. We’re hunting down the last dog of House Aldric.”
Prince Edric’s Death Legion
The Black Fortress – Aureliana Royal Army Headquarters
BOOOOMM!!
The thunderous roar of cannons shook the night sky. Embers flickered in the distance as armored troops marched in flawless formation.
Prince Edric stood atop a stone balcony, his gaze cold and brimming with ambition as he watched the thousands of soldiers before him.
Beside him, General Magnus grinned with satisfaction. “They are ready for war, Your Highness.”
Edric lifted his chin slightly. “What are the numbers?”
“Fifteen thousand heavy infantry, three thousand archers, and two thousand elite cavalry. Along with shadow knights who have already infiltrated enemy territory.”
Edric gave a slow nod. “Good. And the mercenaries?”
Magnus chuckled darkly. “They are like starving dogs, ravenous for blood. As long as they are paid in gold, they will kill anyone.”
Edric finally stepped down from the balcony, walking into the heart of the formation. Under the blazing torchlight, his armor gleamed like that of a war demon.
He stopped in front of the black knights—the deadliest warriors in his army.
Then, in a thunderous voice, he declared:
“Tonight, we march. No mercy. No one is to be left alive.”
The soldiers pounded their swords against their shields—metal clashing against metal, sending a tremor through the air.
Edric’s piercing gaze swept over them. “You are the shadows of death. Bring me his head… or do not return at all.”
The knights saluted, their eyes burning with bloodlust.
Magnus stepped closer, whispering, “Aldric will never see this coming.”
Edric smirked. “I want him to feel fear before he dies.”
Then, without warning, Edric drew his sword and impaled a nearby soldier.
SRAAKK!
The soldier gasped, blood spurting from his chest.
The rest of the troops did not even flinch.
Edric wiped the blood off his blade and spoke icily, “This is what happens to the weak. I do not want to see weakness among you again.”
Magnus only grinned wider.
That night, Prince Edric’s death legion began to march.
And Aldric had no idea that death was coming for him.
Valdemar Forest – Edric’s Army’s Secret Route
TAP. TAP. TAP.
The synchronized footsteps of thousands of soldiers blended with the whisper of the night wind. The torches had been extinguished. Only the moon bore silent witness to the movement of this shadow army.
Edric rode at the front on his black steed, his eyes piercing through the darkness.
Beside him, General Magnus took a sip of wine from his leather flask. “I always love this part.”
Edric glanced at him. “Which part?”
Magnus smirked. “The part where the enemy doesn’t realize they’re already dead.”
Behind them, the heavy infantry marched in silence—warriors clad in black armor, wielding long swords and large shields. Among them, the Shadow Knights moved soundlessly.
They were not ordinary men.
Edric turned to one of them—a figure wearing a silver mask, with black eyes like bottomless pits.
Kane, leader of the Shadow Knights.
“Have your men infiltrated the city?” Edric’s voice was low.
Kane bowed slightly. “Yes, Your Highness. We have planted the seeds of destruction within.”
Edric nodded in satisfaction. “Good. I want them to feel ruin before they even know who destroyed them.”
Magnus chuckled. “Aldric is probably sleeping soundly right now.”
“Aldric isn’t what worries me,” Edric murmured.
Magnus frowned. “Then what does?”
Edric gazed deep into the darkness. The wind shifted, carrying an eerie whisper, as if something was watching them from beyond the trees.
Magnus raised an eyebrow. “You’re overthinking.”
SUDDENLY—
BRUAKK!!
A soldier from the rear ranks was DRAGGED into the shadows!
His scream was cut short—brutal, abrupt.
The entire army froze. Swords were drawn in an instant.
Kane leaped from his horse, his eyes flashing. “Something is here.”
TAP. TAP. TAP.
Heavy footsteps echoed from beyond the trees.
But they were not human footsteps.
Edric gripped the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the darkness.
And then he saw it.
A figure twice the height of a man.
Tattered armor.
Glowing red eyes.
A massive sword, rusted with old blood.
Magnus stiffened. “Gods help me…”
“The Cursed Knight…” Kane whispered.
Then… the creature moved.
And the night turned into hell.
.The Long-Awaited King
Valdemar Forest, Midnight
The sky above the forest was pitch black, devoid of stars. A thick mist curled around the towering trees, their silhouettes reaching up like the grasping hands of giants. Only the heavy footsteps of the Cursed Knights echoed through the silence, the clash of metal reverberating unnaturally as they moved.
Edric halted his horse, gripping the reins tightly, his eyes fixed on the figure standing in the middle of the narrow path. One of the Cursed Knights—larger than the rest—stood motionless, his glowing red eyes locked onto Edric.
"I have been waiting for you, Edric," the voice rumbled, as if spoken from another realm.
Magnus instantly drew his sword, standing at Edric’s side, his eyes sharp with caution. The human soldiers shuddered; some instinctively took a step back.
Edric swallowed hard. "What do you mean?" His voice remained steady, but his fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.
The knight took a step forward. The metal of his armor groaned, like a relic of the past forced into motion once more.
"Your blood… binds us. But… are you strong enough to be our king?"
Silence. Then, the faint rasp of steel as several human soldiers unsheathed their blades.
Magnus leaned in, whispering urgently. "I knew this was madness from the start. We need to get out of here. Now."
But Edric did not move. He could feel the air around him shifting. The cold wind howled, pressing down on his spirit like an unseen force.
"Are you… testing me?" Edric finally asked.
The Cursed Knight lifted his sword, his red eyes burning even brighter. "We bow only to the strongest. If you are not him… then you will become one of us."
Magnus saw the danger unfold before his eyes. "Damn it, Edric! They’re not following you—they’re waiting for the right moment to take over!"
But Edric smirked. He stepped down from his horse, his stance firm despite the pounding in his chest. Slowly, he drew his sword, the firelight reflecting off its blade.
"Then let’s see who is truly worthy."
- Writer
