Stroke Valan was once happier than any could be. He had the girl he wished to marry cuddled in his arms, a mother who loved him, and had not yet been traumatised by the horrors of war. Before it all, he looked at nature differently—peacefulness, little creatures exploring a world bigger than they could ever imagine.

  Stroke and Runaya were curled underneath a tree just outside of Vatanil, cuddling in the warmth of Summer and listening to the birds chirping as they flew by. She was in her favourite white dress, happily letting it get stained with dry dirt. He too was in white, a line shirt with long sleeves and pants to match.

  They kissed for a long time, then held hands as they put their backs against the tree. Runaya pointed at an owl above. “Look, the gods are watching!” she exclaimed. “Hello! Do you want to come and sit with us? I’ll give you some gentle pats.”

  The owl flew away. “Oh, sorry!” she yelled. “I didn’t mean to offend you! Please come back!”

  “I think that one was just an owl,” Stroke giggled. “They say the Voiceless One is commonly seen as owls, not every owl.”

  “Hmph, well I still scare the poor thing… I hope it doesn’t tell all their owl-friends that I’m scary.”

  “You’re not scary.”

  “You don’t speak owl, how do you know? Or do you speak owl, and you’re hiding the fact from me?” She kissed his nose. “Hoooo, hooooo, hoo. Go on, what am I saying?”

  “You’re saying… I love you.”

  She feigned shock. “You can speak owl! Or were you using your super-secret gift to read my thoughts?”

  He was too captivated by her beauty to form thoughts. She truly was everything he’d ever wanted, and he would die for her smile.

  “You’re gonna make me blush if you keep looking at me,” she said. “It takes hours for them to go back to normal.”

  “Good,” he joked. “It’s adorable. You’re the prettiest girl in the whole world; I can’t help but look at you.”

  She looked at the city of blue Sentinels and felt relaxed, letting herself blush at his admiration. “I hope Godric and Faith will get better soon. That big man said they were going to die this morning.”

  “Ignore Killian,” said Stroke. “He doesn’t know a thing.”

  “Would you miss me if I died?”

  He put a hand on each of her cheeks and kissed her until she had a smile from ear to ear. “Give me love or give me death. There is no future of mine that exists without this smile between my hands. I would fight the gods to get you back. All of them.”

  The two then travelled into the woods with bows, intending to bring back some venison to Keep Blacksteel to make meals for Godric and Faith. It was Runaya whose arrow found the neck of a mighty stag. She honoured it with a prayer to the Voiceless One, ending the creature’s misery with a tear-covered knife.

  “The circle of life,” Stroke whispered. “We have to eat.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “But I always feel so bad. What if it has little children searching for their father? What about his wife, all alone in the woods.”

  He hugged Runaya from behind and put a silver ring in her hand. “That’s yours,” he said. “I’ll marry you one day. Your true ring will be made of pure godsteel, as will mine. They’ll stay on our hands for eternity, even when we are skeletons in one grave.”

  “I want our lives to be long,” she said. “I want a family. I want to live in the mountains, with puppies and horses. Can we do that? When we’re older, of course.”

  “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

  She became shy, refusing to look in his eyes. “I’m sorry if I’m not giving you what you want. Harren’s words the other day—”

  “Fuck Harren,” Stroke said softly. “I don’t care about sex. It’s like you said… we’re young. I don’t want to think about that.”

  “But you do think about it.”

  Stroke was careful with his next words. “Well… I fight those urges off when they come. You’ve read the same books of history that I have. There’s a degeneracy in this world, a spell, or something. You’re immune to it. You’re the purest, most beautiful woman. Not just in Valan, but in every nation, in every world.” He got onto his knees and lifted her shirt only slightly, kissing her stomach and hugging her hips. “I want what you want. A family. One day we’ll have everything we want. I’ll be here through every step.”

  “I want to name it Bianca if we ever have a girl,” she giggled. “And if we ever have a boy… well… your name is too precious for one soul. I’d love two Strokes in my life.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Promise me then,” she said, tousling his hair. “Promise me that you’ll make a world where we can be happy. One where we are safe from everything. The Kans of Naveen scare me.”

  “They’ll never marry you off to one of the Kans. You’re mine,” he promised. “I will always keep you safe.”

  The summer skies quickly turned to a light drizzle. The two got closed and danced in the rain, twirling each other around bushes and trees. Stroke was happy. He would change nothing.

  Then came the horns. Hounds came through the trees with barks and snarls, calming upon seeing the young prince and enjoying the pets from Runaya. An exhausted Valan guard ran to them, pressing his palms to his knees as he caught his breath.

  “Prince Stroke! Lady Runaya!” the guard said. “We’ve searched the whole of the city for you. We feared you were lost.”

  “We’re fine, Darvin. We got a stag to bring back to Vatanil. If you’ve got a cart, best you help me wrap it up before your hounds get to it. Think I’ll prepare my parents’ dinner myself.”

  Darvin removed his helmet, kneeling, putting his hand against his own heart with tears, speaking through gritted teeth. “Forgive me, my prince,” he said. “Queen Faith and King Godric have passed. King Godwin has sent me to collect you; the funeral is now.”

  Stroke held Runaya tighter. He was prepared for the outcome of their deaths but never expected it to truly happen. His heart felt heavy and commanded dry eyes. “My mother is dead? What about the God Arms?”

  “Divided, my prince,” Darvin said. “Prince Harren holds one, King Godwin the other. You must come, my prince, I am sorry, but there is no time for stalling. The king demands it.” He gave Stroke a sealed envelope. “And this too. For your eyes only. He specifically ordered me to say Lady Runaya isn’t to read it.”

  Runaya began to weep into Stroke’s shirt; he pocketed the letter. “Take us to my mother,” he said calmly. “I’ll say my goodbyes.”

  ————————————————————————

  Faith and Godric Valan didn’t have swift deaths, nor were they painless. Their illness began one sudden morning when both woke without an appetite for any meal from breakfast to supper. The two starved for five days, vomiting up anything they consumed except for water. On day six, their hunger came like a storm—they ate like gods, indulging in cakes, meat, wine, an endless night of decadence that left their bellies swelled like a mighty hill.

  Come the morning, they shat out boulders of brown, ones that stretched their back ends and refused to come out. A rumour quickly spread amongst the commonfolk that the king and queen’s skin had turned red and veiny. Of course, this was untrue, as their skin had become a ghastly purple, growing blacker each day. They broke out in green rashes, pimples the size of apples on their legs and neck. The mages and healers hadn’t a clue what ailed them, an illness never before seen. The servants locked them in their chambers out of fear that it was contagious, praying for their recover and praying harder that Vatanil’s population were safe.

  On the morning of their deaths, their bodies gave up on holding their meals from days prior—it came out of their mouths, leaving them vomiting brown, red, and yellow for hours, begging for help that never came. Killian Entrail was the one to discover them in the end, complaining about a horrid smell creeping under the door. He found the two embracing closely, covered in shit and spew, a knife in each heart. The dying souls cared little for their arguments in life. The king and queen died together, forgiving each other.

  It was then that Prince Harren barged into the room with dozens of guards to pull Killian from their bodies. Godwin did the same. The brothers touched their father’s corpse and took one God Arm each, splitting an ancient power and dividing its capabilities in half.

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  Their graves were already dug under Harren’s order. Hundreds of commonfolk watched their burial behind a wall of shields.

  “They will be missed,” a faithful man whispered. “May your souls rest easy knowing King Godwin shall carry your legacy.”

  Stroke felt smaller around his brothers. Their God Arms felt like a silent threat. He kept his head low and kept Runaya close, staying by Bianca’s side as if she were his last shield.

  They lowered his parents into their graves. The servants stood idle with shovels, awaiting King Godwin’s command.

  “Do you have anything you wish to say?” Godwin asked Stroke. “Say it now if you have anything.”

  Stroke had nothing to say. Runaya, however, removed two flowers from her hair and dropped one into each grave. “Thank you for taking me in,” she whispered. “I’ll miss you both.”

  The giggling of a woman interrupted her goodbye. A woman far older than Harren leaned on his shoulder, dressed in white silk.

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” Runaya asked the stranger. “I don’t think we’ve met before… the pleasure is mine, my name is—”

  “I know who you are, whore,” she snarled. “The whole of Keep Blacksteel knows about you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Godwin ordered the guards to push the crowd away. He held a grin behind his coughs.

  “What did you just say to her?” Bianca growled. “Do you know who she is? This is Princess Runaya, who are—”

  “A whore is a whore,” the stranger purred. “And I’m a princess too, don’t you know who I am? Go on, Harren, tell her who I am.”

  “Mara is to be my wife,” Harren smirked.

  “What?!” Bianca yelled. “This creature? Wait… I know you, you’re one of the queen’s servants.”

  “Queen? I don’t see a queen,” Mara said. “All I see is a whore. Did you see how fast she was to remove one of those flowers from her hair? She’s quick to undress.” She gave a prurient clap. “I never thought whores could start so young. Go ahead, take off your dress for the guards as you’ve done so before. Go on.”

  “Are you not going to say anything?” Stroke yelled at Godwin. “This is a funeral! And you, whoever you are, how dare you call her such a word? She is a Valan.”

  “And soon I shall be too,” said Mara.

  Runaya ran away crying. A handful of guards chased her into the crowd of commonfolk, keeping them away from her. Stroke went after her, and Bianca went to follow.

  “Stay,” Godwin ordered.

  “Are you serious?” Bianca scoffed. “You—”

  “I am the king,” Godwin boasted. “I said stay.”

  Runaya collapsed by a far away grave with no relevance. The guards didn’t comfort her, only offering protection. Stroke came fast to her side, taking her tears to his shoulder.

  “It’s not true!” she squealed. “That woman is a liar! I’ve never seen her before! Why would she say that?”

  “I don’t know,” Stroke said. “I don’t know why Godwin would allow her to say it. Runaya, my love, I have a way out of this city for us both.”

  “You do?”

  He shown her the unsealed letter and let her read it. She shook her head in disbelief and refused the idea.

  “There is no other way.” Stroke put his cheek against hers. “My brother wants a war with Naveen. He wants the Kans dead. He’s put me in charge of a quarter of the Vaelirian Bloods. He wants me to capture Kan Snuff and Meatmuck Keep and then wait for the rest of the forces. If I take Naveen for him, I’m certain he won’t care if we were to disappear.”

  “But what if you die?”

  “I won’t die,” he promised. “Nothing can keep me away from you. I love you. I’ll win for you.”

  ————————————————————————

  The siege of Meatmuck Keep went in the favour of the Valans. The Vaelirian Bloods prevailed under the leadership of Stroke Valan and his heroism, successfully decimating the Kan forces and locking themselves inside the castle, raising the drawbridge, waiting for the promised reinforcements from Godwin Valan.

  Autumn came quick, and not a single soldier arrived. Two of the three armies amassed by the Kans marched south from their capital, lead by Kan Snuff’s two sons, Kan Cannis and Kan Consu. The only thing that kept the brothers from sieging the castle was Stroke’s daily reminder that he had their father. He would drag Kan Snuff to the battlements and put a knife to his throat, keeping it there for an hour.

  The weather was getting cold, and Stroke missed home. He was still a boy, years from becoming a man, but he’d seen more violence than one should see in a lifetime. He’d cut down the black banners of the Kans and replaced them with the decaying corpses of Naveen soldiers. Stroke wasn’t willing to lose, neither were his men. They’d laid traps on the inside of the castle, refusing to seek the warmth of the hallways.

  “My sons will kill you,” Kan Snuff cackled. “You took my arm. They will take your heads. We will feast on you.”

  Stroke knocked out the man’s teeth and dragged him down to the courtyard by his long, unkempt hair. He tied him to the wheel of a wagon, spitting on him.

  “Godwin will be here soon,” Stroke growled. “Your armies will fall to the rest of the Vaelirian Bloods. I’ll kill your sons, then I’ll march to Sacribane to kill Kan Lumi. Your line will end.”

  “I think not, little prince. Your food grows scarce, your patience grows thin. Winter comes, and this keep has walls of thin stone. You will trade me for freedom, or you’ll die.”

  “There are no trades,” Stroke whispered. “You can’t trust a Kan. I’d cut your throat before bargaining for my life with savages.”

  “We are with you, my prince,” Darvin said. “As are the rest of the men. Aren’t we lads? We’re with our prince until the cold takes our souls!”

  The Vaelirian Bloods removed their armet helmets and cheered in his favour.

  More months passed with no support. Owls began to fly into the keep as gifts from the Voiceless One, offering their meat. The Kans quickly realised this and shot down every bird that came close to the castle walls.

  Their stomachs were just as empty as their hopes. The soldiers began to grow thin… and a decision was made through a vote—one in ten would be selected at random to be eaten for sustenance. Completely random, completely fair, unbiased. The men would write letters to their loved ones, and the others would swear to hand-deliver them.

  Stroke had no energy for the vote. He spent his days looking at his palm, where he’d carved Runaya’s likeness into his flesh with a knife—he’d started to forget her face through the starvation, but a quick glance reminded him what waited for him.

  “Godwin…” he wheezed. “…please save us.”

  The Vaelirian Bloods loaded a sack of rocks and coal. They passed it round, with those who pulled coal being those who would be sacrificed. There was no hatred of the choosing, no disdain, those who were unlucky gave only a sigh of disappointment, then put an inked quill to paper the same minute.

  When the sack got close to Stroke, the men shared a nod and sneakily avoided his turn.

  “Give me it,” Stroke demanded. “I am just as man as the rest of you. I still have my muscles. I still have meat. I will test my luck.”

  The prince used all his strength to stand, wobbling towards the sack. He put a hand in and pulled out a coal, falling to his knees and thinking of Runaya.

  “So be it,” he whispered. “This is my fate. I have no letters.” He took out a silver ring and gave it to the closest soldier. “Give this to Runaya. Tell her to live long, and I will wait.”

  Darvin snatched the ring and put it back into the prince’s pocket. He shown the soldiers his own rock from the sack.

  “I will not allow this!” Darvin yelled. “The prince claims he is a man like the rest of us, but he is not! The prince rode at the front of the vanguard as we took the castle; the prince’s horses took an arrow and still he pushed forward against a charge of hundreds of cannibal-manned stallions; the prince fought the Hungerknight when no one else dared; the prince was the first through the gates after the drawbridge dropped; the prince duelled Kan Snuff all by his lonesome, a man so powerful not even King Godwin could see to this battle himself.” Darvin pointed his sword at Stroke. “This man is no man. This man is my prince. The prince has stood by our side as a soldier, not as royalty. This is the man I fought for, not the king that left us to die.” He took Stroke’s coal and put the rock in the prince’s hand. “I will take his place. He is my friend.”

  “My life is not worth more than yours,” he wheezed. “Give me my coal. I earned that coal, not you. Take that crossbow and give me it quick, a bolt between my eyes. Tell Runaya I love her with all my heart. I am not worth more than you.”

  “The prince has fought the wars of men with the age of a boy. I have lived five of your lifetimes. My hair has greyed further whilst we’ve been here. My sons have grown, my daughter have married, my grandchildren grow quicker and my eldest is a fine soldier in the ranks of the Bloods. He will lead one day. Your life is worth more than mine, my prince. I am done with this life, but you are not.”

  The soldiers had to restrain the weak prince as he begged. The soldiers and Darvin wrote their letters and left them with the others, then lined up in a row of hundreds. Each death was quick, a bolt to the head or heart, depending on their choice. Their armour was removed delicately, neatly wrapped alongside their swords to give to their kin when they return. They took all the meat they could and buried the rest in one massive hole. Kan Snuff laughed while the soldiers ate, which earned him many more strikes. They had to force the human meat down the prince’s throat just to keep him alive.

  Another week passed, and the sack was handed around again. Before the bolts were shot, a horn rang out, a Valan horn. Stroke saw Bianca at the gates with the full forces of the Vaelirian Bloods, but there was no fighting, the Kans were packing up their camps and leaving without complaint.

  The drawbridge was dropped. Stroke limped across it to Bianca, who travelled with Kan Consu and Kan Cannis. She hugged Stroke tightly, telling him that Harren said he’d already sent the full forces to Sacribane.

  “Is Runaya okay?” is all Stroke could ask.

  “She is. I kept her safe.”

  “And why are those two here?” He pointed at Cannis and Consu.

  “Our father,” they demanded. “Our father, or war.”

  “I choose war,” Stroke snarled.

  “No,” Bianca whispered. She handed him a letter from Godwin, already opened. “Hand him over. We’re going home.”

  Stroke was greeted at Vatanil’s gates by Runaya. He fell from his horse into her arms, hugging her.

  “You’ve been gone so long!” she cried. “I feared the worst! I don’t want you to leave again.”

  “I won’t,” Stroke whispered. “I swear it.”

  “No, I swear it,” she said softly. “No matter how long it takes. I’ll find a way for us together and at peace. I want our family. I won’t let them take you away from me.”