Chapter 56: Heir of a Kingdom

“Eventually, you will become the next ruler and will have to lead this place, Myrrava,” King Vaelthar stood as he started walking to a nearby window to look at his people outside.

Swords clashed against each other, right along with spells lighting up the backyard of the castle as the knights trained.

“That means you will eventually have to leave this place and get stronger,” Vaelthar looked down at his clothing; he might have seemed like a strong and indestructibly powerful ruler; however, under his clothes and armour, he was just a fragile old man now, a fragment of his former self and strength.

“You are far stronger than your brother,” he turned towards her, his eyes gleaming, “you are the heir.”

’But I don’t want it,’ Myrrava sighed as she looked at the table melancholically, her usually cold face reflecting her inner thoughts, which made her father sigh.

“You eventually will have to attend an academy; you can have the choice to pick, of course,” he let out a chuckle, “with your strength, you are already on the level of third years despite only being twelve!” He seemed so proud of her strength, but Myrrava didn’t care about becoming the strongest, or becoming the ruler; she didn’t care about any of those things.

“But none of those things interest me,” she kept fidgeting with her fingers and her chair whilst her father kept glancing around the room.

’I don’t want to leave, no one can withstand my power anyways…’ That’s how she thought it was; just because she never left the castle, she thought mages and knights were weak; she had never met a proper high-ranking mage before, so she didn’t have any clue, only bold assumptions.

“That doesn’t matter, Myrrava, my dear,” he walked closer and clutched her hands, trying to comfort her. “Eventually, you must. It’s your responsibility as an heir—” Before she could finish the sentence, though, the door to the room burst open, and a familiar face entered. His short back hair highlighted his chiselled facial contours, and his black hair, he would have had sharp features if not for his baby face.

“Yvikel, what is it?” Vaelthar let go of her daughter’s hand as a familiar messenger appeared in their room. He seemed to be panting and in a rush.

’Of course now,’ Myrrava sighed. It was no surprise to her that their conversation got interrupted again.

“My lord,” he knelt down. “I apologise for the sudden charge in. However, a messenger has arrived, sent by Sir Marcus—”

“That old man?!” Vaelthar slammed his fist on the table, which surprised both Myrrava and Yvikel. However, he wasn’t trying to be rude; it was pure excitement. “I apologise,” he coughed once to try and clear the awkwardness. “I just got excited for a second.”

’Right…’ Myrrava didn’t know how to react at all to his father’s outburst. She had no idea who Sir Marcus was. She never even heard of him.

“Where is that messenger?” Vaelthar took slow steps forward towards the messenger, who seemed to be shaking in his boots.

“H-He is in the inn of the Dark Knights being held in—”

“Did you just say held inside?!” He didn’t even let the messenger finish as anger flushed on his face. “Anyone who is sent by Sir Marcus should be respected! How dare the Dark Knights hold him inside? Bring him here at once!” His voice was rough as it not just echoed in the room but in the outside halls as well.

Yvikel bowed. “Instantly, my lord!” Then he sprinted for his life to bring the messenger back.

“Haah,” Vaelthorn sighed as he closed the door, then turned back towards his daughter. “I apologise. They interrupted us again.”

“I’ve gotten used to it by now,” Myrrava didn’t seem surprised at all. “Who is this Marcus?”

Vaelthorn seemed surprised at her daughter’s question; this was the first time she seemed interested in asking about someone.

“We have lots of stories together; how do I even begin…” With that, he sat and started telling old tales of them two together.

—

Klaus lay still on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position; however, everything felt pushy due to the pushing gravity.

“So fucking uncomfortable—”

His door burst open, and a short, black-haired boy entered; he seemed to be young judging from his baby face; however, Klaus didn’t care; at this point, he had a child-looking instructor, so he didn’t judge.

“Sir!” The boy instantly bowed to him whilst Klaus pushed himself up from the bed, struggling against the pressure.

“Uh, yeah?” Klaus didn’t know how to react at all to the bowing boy.

“The king requested your presence! Please follow me!” He seemed to be scared for his life for some reason as they both stood in front of each other now.

’Why is he scared?’ Klaus just shrugged it off then nodded, “Sure, lead the way.”

The boy’s expression seemed to lighten as he darted back out the door, leading Klaus down the staircase.

As they walked out, many of the similarly dressed knights looked at the two, but this time there was something different in their eyes, like they respected Klaus.

’What the fuck happened?’ He had no clue at all what changed in the couple of hours that he was locked up for, but he for sure didn’t mind.

The boy led Klaus out of the so-called inn and started leading him through the streets towards the obsidian castle Klaus saw earlier.

’Surely not that thing, looks like a vampire’s castle from a damned book,’ He held back a chuckle as he remembered the amount of vampire parody movies he had seen in his past; they all sucked.

After a couple of minutes, they arrived at a ginormous obsidian gate which seemed to be sealed shut from the inside.

The boy walked up to the gate and screamed out from his lungs, his spit going onto the gate just from the scream.

“Open the gate! I’ve brought the messenger sent by Sir Marcus!”

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