Orion stepped through a dark dank corridor, alone. Innumerable empty cells persisted along this pathway, blocked by thick iron bars. The stone, some of it stained by blood, told stories of past atrocities. The puddles of oil and water made unpleasant noises beneath his boots, the sound echoing throughout the cold confines. Even still, his approach was disguised by fierce, howling winds battering against the walls of the Dragon Palace’s cliffside dungeon.

Prince Orion saw two blue magic lights shining past the rusted iron of a distant cell. He could hear uneven, wrathful breathing, and some strange sounds of metal against metal and against fabric. He stepped ever closer, his chest tightening as he did so. Someone large stepped out of the cell, wiping their gauntleted hands down with a wet cloth.

King Felipe paused mid step when he caught sight of Orion. He was in full armor. Jezuit, the knight-commander, had informed Orion the king did not travel anywhere without his armor, now. At all times, he was prepared to war, equipping all of the kingdom’s most powerful relics. Jezuit also informed Orion that the king was here, refusing all visitors.

The king looked surprised to see Orion, but he planted both of his feet down, and his back straightened to assume his regal posture. The blue light of the magic lamps cast a grim shadow over his now extraordinarily gaunt face and graying black beard. In short order, the king resumed wiping his gauntlets down.

“My son,” the king said slowly, the word ‘son’ dripping with disdain. He dropped the cloth, which was wholly red. “Back, after gallivanting through southern territories just like your older brother. I do hope you achieved something with that foolish outage of yours.” He shook his head slowly. “Considering I now know Argrave is in Relize, I doubt that.”

Orion stepped around the king as he talked, coming to the cell that he’d just left. He grabbed the iron bar, peering beyond at Levin. His brother was chained to the wall and looked unharmed. The copious amounts of blood pooling around him indicated the truth of what had happened. Orion glanced around. He saw implements—hooks, barbs, knives, all splayed out across a simple iron bench.

“You tortured him,” Orion said quietly, turning around. “Your own son.”

Felipe stared at Orion. He stepped into the cell, and Levin recoiled away from him, whimpering like a beaten dog. The king grabbed a long iron rod with a hook at the end. “I disciplined him. It’s a father’s duty.” He stepped towards Orion. “I took no pleasure in it. Even still, a king must—”

Orion stepped towards Felipe, using one arm to push him against the cell bars with until their enchantments sparked in protest. “Stop lying to me. Stop lying to us. How could you?” his voice tremored both of sadness and anger.

Felipe got a better foothold and pushed Orion away. The prince staggered back. “I don’t need to justify myself to you. Levin was erring, and—”

“I spoke to Vasquer!” Orion shouted back. “I know all of what went through your head. I want to know how you could be driven to that.” He took steps forward. “Your first wife dies, my mother changes after I’m born… why would you choose to spread misery? Why did you feel the need to drag others with you in pain?”

“You know nothing of what occurs in my head,” Felipe spat back viciously. “You believe the foul machinations of some serpent over your father’s word? This is why I called you slow-witted, Orion.” The king stepped forth. “It took you two years to learn how to read, and longer still for basic arithmetic. Even if you could see inside my head, could you understand what goes on in there? What a joke.

“By your age… my father was long dead,” Felipe ranted, stepping past Orion. “I tripled our nation’s revenue in a year, conquered vast stretches of territory until Vasquer was the sole major power on this continent north of the Burnt Desert. I gave my brothers great palaces, wealth unimaginable! Regene, Monganno, Tirisan, Archdukes all. I handed this to them, asking nothing in return. They were my kin.”

“They’re all dead,” Orion reminded him. “Their lines were extinguished.”

“No fault of mine,” Felipe turned his head back. “I try to do the same for you… make you Archduke of the Margravate of Parbon, prime Vasquer for expansion into the Burnt Desert. My children…” he spat the word. “All of you could rule realms the size of kingdoms past. Yet Induen ruins things, you ruin things, Levin ruins things, Elenore ruins things, and Argrave ruins things. At every turn, none can simply obey. I always try to do right by my family.” Felipe’s face grew tight with rage. “Unfortunately, those gods you pray so fervently to have cursed me with idiotic children whom I must coddle at every turn. No matter what, all of you fail simple guidelines.”

Felipe spread his arms out. “You push me to this. Elenore and her foolish elopement, Induen practically killing himself…” he grabbed another implement of torture, turning back towards Levin. “This one, trying to fracture the realm and name himself king. Argrave, nipping at my heels like a jackal in a vainglorious attempt to tear down a giant in his pursuit of something not his.” Felipe brandished the implement, walking closer to Orion. “And you, now, with this foolish confrontation. You give me no choice.”

Orion’s face slowly lost sadness and anger both in the prolonged silence as Felipe let his words hang. “…you’re gone. You’ve been gone a long while.”

Felipe held the instrument out. It was a jagged pair of scissors. “You can fix this, Orion. Start obeying. Stop thinking. I am your father. You saw how well I treated your uncles. They practically drowned in wealth. If not for the gods’ whims, they’d still be doing so. You can still salvage things. To start…” Felipe looked back to Levin, bound and chained. “You must learn the lesson of a king.”

Orion shook his head. “I cannot learn. You teach untenable lessons.”

Felipe took a deep breath and sighed. “Then, what? Will you hit me? You’ve proven time and time again to be incapable of such a—”

Orion thrust his fist at Felipe’s face. The king, well-enhanced by his armor and whatever relics he wore, was more than sufficiently prepared to block the blow. He received it on the elbow, and magic sparked as enchantments resisted the force of his attack.

“Guards!” Felipe’s voice echoed out across the cells as he backed away from Orion. “Guards!”

“My Waxknights will tend to whatever guards you call. Boarmask retrieved them. They’re infected with the plague you spread across the southern lands,” Orion said calmly, walking forth.

Felipe threw the set of scissors at Orion, yet they were deflected easily with a simple swat. The king rushed, one hand conjuring an axe of pure wind. He swung it overhead wildly at Orion, the axe shearing through the stone of the ceiling in its brutish path.

Orion freely utilized the blessings still within him, raising his hand. The moisture in the air gave him ample fuel to spawn ice, and a block of ice manifested in his outstretched hand. The axe of wind tore through it yet slowed it enough for Orion to grasp it firmly. The wind tore at his flesh, yet he was uncaring. He pulled the king forth, slamming his other fist at Felipe’s face.

Even still, Felipe blocked with his forearm, handling the powerful attack gracefully. Orion, thinking quickly, unclenched his fist and grasped Felipe’s forearm. His other hand released the axe, coming to grapple with Felipe. Orion got his arm beneath his shoulder and lifted the king up, then turned and tackled him through the bars of an adjacent cell. They were enchanted and did not break easily.

The king struggled vainly against Orion as he ran through one, two, three, four iron bars, wheezing every time his back struck one. Felipe, an A-rank mage, fought like Induen did. He utilized combat spells at long distance and conjured magical weapons at short distance, provided he had no enchanted weapons on hand. Grappling, even with the serious strength offered by the armor and relics he wore, was not his forte.

The king and the prince collapsed to the ground once they’d broken through five different cells.

“How could you do this to us!?” Orion shouted.

The king struggled to protect his unarmored face as Orion rained blows down upon him—headbutts, punches, elbows. He used his blessings to imbue his blows with electricity, fire. He breathed poison out of his mouth. Despite this, Felipe’s defense remained unbreakable. After a time, Orion tried to restrain his father’s hands to get a solid hit. The change in strategy gave the king time to cast a spell.

A burst of wind tossed Orion back hard enough to slam him against the corner of the ceiling. The king rose to his feet as Orion fell through the air. A mana ripple lit up the dim, dank cell as the king prepared to use an A-rank spell. The moment that Orion’s feet met the ground, he lunged at the king as quickly as a cheetah. The spell completed first.

A great curtain of ice erupted out of Felipe’s hands, blocking vision of all before the king. The spell moved like a landslide, breaking the iron bars of all nearby cells like twigs and burying all in front beneath crystalline ice. The spell slammed against the stone wall, and though the enchantments shined in protest as they desperately tried to hold back the tide, the wall broke. The ice pushed out into the open sky, like a blue-white crystal sprouting from the palace atop the mountain in Dirracha.

Ice shattered on the right side, and Felipe quickly turned, using blood magic to conjure a wicked greatsword. Orion stepped out, a large chunk of his right shoulder missing and his right leg so badly mangled as to be unserviceable. Despite all of that, the prince ran, each step making his wound worse.

The greatsword of blood moved through the air with inhuman speed to intercept Orion. The prince’s leg nearly bent in half as he put weight on it to pivot… yet the maneuver worked, and the blade barely missed. Orion made as though to punch Felipe’s face once again. The king remained a bastion of defense. So, instead, Orion grabbed at the king’s arm, got a firm grip, and slammed his knee into the king’s gut.

The king’s knees bent and he coughed violently. The armor was an old relic, and though it had been reforged, the spot where Argrave’s [Bloodfeud Bow] struck remained weak. Orion seized on the opportunity, finally landing a solid elbow against the king’s nose. The greatsword spawned of the king’s blood fell from his grip yet did not dissipate.

Orion fell to one knee and grabbed the weapon. Something Vasquer had shown him of Argrave’s journey came to his head, and as though possessed, he re-enacted Galamon’s treatment of Induen. The weapon of blood was deadly sharp and powerful, and it even cut through the relic Felipe armored himself in. In seconds, Orion had deprived the spellcaster of his hands.

His energy gone, Orion collapsed back. He stared at the wound on his leg as it slowly sewed itself back together piece by piece. His blood and flesh returned to him as it always did. Though he’d utilized them by habit in the battle… he felt disgusted by his blessings.

Felipe crawled away already, never lacking for endurance. His route led to deeper within the cells. With his leg nearly healed, Orion rose to his feet. Regaining his strength ever so slowly, he advanced, leaning on the bars. Ahead, the king similarly stood, stumbling away while bleeding profusely. Catching onto where the king headed, he hastened.

Moments before the king could re-enter Levin’s cell and possibly take him hostage, Orion caught up. He grabbed the king’s long mane of hair and threw him against the bench where the torture implements rested. The bench turned over, and the tools clattered atop Felipe. Orion watched for a moment, waiting for movement, but the king remained face-down against the stone.

Orion stepped to where Levin was bound. He undid the shackles, and the broken prince slumped down, freed yet hollow.

“You’ll have to… kill me,” Felipe said, coughing. “All you want… all this misery you claim I’ve sewn… kill me now. Take your place as king. You know it’s the only way,” Felipe said, almost joyously. “You will kill me, Orion. And you will learn. You will learn what it means to be king.”

Orion watched as Felipe tried to stand in vain, his strength draining fast. “If you don’t kill me… the war rages. Then, Argrave will have to kill me. Either way… either way, I won’t stop until you—"

Prince Orion grabbed his father’s neck, silencing him. “You are done. You no longer decide.”