Morning sun shine. Birds chirped in the trees, the grass rustling with unseen movement. Alistair, a small sword clutched in his hand, peeked around a massive oak, its branches heavy with leaves. He lunged, the sword aimed at a startled rabbit that bolted away with a flash of brown fur. The sword clanged uselessly against the mud, sending a spray of dirt into the air.
Disappointment clouded Alistair's face. His first attempt at hunting had failed. He chased the rabbit, his small legs pumping, yelling, "Hey, rabbit! Come here!" The rabbit hopped out of reach, its white tail bobbing as it disappeared deeper into the undergrowth. Alistair threw the sword again, but his frustration made his aim wild, and it missed by a wide margin. Panting, he stopped his pursuit and sank down under the shade of a sprawling willow tree. He stared at his sword, a sad expression etched on his face.
He stood, awkwardly holding the sword behind his back. With a determined frown, he threw it, aiming for the thick trunk of a nearby maple tree. The sword bounced off with a clang, landing at his feet. He tried again, but the result was the same. Alistair picked up the sword, his eyes filled with sadness. The forest seemed to mock his efforts, the rustling leaves whispering about his shortcomings.
A sudden, loud caw shattered the peaceful quiet of the forest. Alistair flinched, his heart jumping into his throat. He looked up to see a crow perched on a high branch, its black feathers gleaming in the sunlight. The crow cawed again, a harsh, piercing sound that echoed through the trees. Alistair watched it take flight, its wings beating steadily as it soared high above the canopy. He followed its path with his eyes until it disappeared into the distance.
The encounter startled him, breaking his focus. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, a constant reminder of his predicament. He muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper, "I need water... I need food... Please... Anyone..." Despair threatened to engulf him, but a flicker of determination remained. He had to find a way out of the forest, a way back home.
He ventured deeper into the dense forest, the towering trees forming a green canopy overhead. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled light on the forest floor. After walking for what felt like hours, his stomach growling in protest, he spotted a small lake ahead. Hope flickered in his eyes. He rushed towards it, his legs tired but fueled by newfound determination. He cupped his hands in a bowl shape and eagerly drank the water, but immediately spat it out. "It's too salty and muddy!" he choked, disappointment replacing his hope.
He looked around, his heart sinking. The lake blocked his path forward, its murky water shimmering under the midday sun. But Alistair wouldn't give up so easily. He scanned the area, his eyes searching for anything that could help him cross. Then, a flicker of hope caught his eye. A fallen log lay nearby, half-submerged in the shallow water at the lake's edge. It wasn't perfect – it was thicker than he was tall, and covered in moss and damp leaves. But it was his only chance.
With a renewed surge of determination, Alistair approached the log. It was far heavier than it looked. He strained with all his might, grunting with effort as he tried to push it towards the shore. Inch by inch, he wrestled the log, his muscles burning with exertion. Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes. He stumbled backward a few times, frustration gnawing at him. But the thought of being trapped in the forest spurred him on "It....is...too.. heavy." said while dragging the log. Finally, with a triumphant cry, he managed to maneuver the log onto the firm ground of the bank.
He picked himself up, brushing dirt from his clothes. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his arms, he surveyed the log. "This thing is heavier than it looks," he muttered to himself. He scanned the bank, searching for anything that could give him leverage. "Maybe a rock?" He spotted a large, smooth stone half-buried in the mud a few feet away. "That might work."
With a grunt, he dragged himself towards the rock. It was heavy, but smaller and easier to manage than the log. He wedged it under the thick end of the log, creating a makeshift fulcrum. "Alright," he said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Here goes nothing." He braced himself against the log, his legs planted firmly on the ground. "One, two, three!" he shouted, pushing with all his might. The log groaned in protest, but this time it began to move, inch by agonizing inch.
"Come on, come on," Alistair grunted, pushing himself to the limit. His face contorted with exertion, his muscles burning. But he wouldn't give up. "Just a little further..."
Finally, with a triumphant cry, he managed to maneuver the upper end of the log onto the bank. Exhausted, he fell back and gasped for breath, staring at the vast blue sky above. "I did it," he whispered, a smile spreading across his dirt-streaked face.
A squirrel, perched on a nearby branch, watched the scene unfold with beady eyes. As soon as Alistair stood up, the squirrel scurried back up the tree, clutching a nut in its paws.
Taking a shaky breath, Alistair cautiously stepped onto the log. The wood creaked under his weight, but it held. He crossed the small river, his heart pounding with relief. He soon crossed and ran into the forest.
A small Water sound took his mind "I need water...plz...", he was walking soo a long, "a stream sound??" he soon scanned and tried to hear few times and ran inside the forest The sound of rushing water grew louder as he ventured deeper into the forest. Soon, he could clearly hear the gurgling of a stream. He broke into a run, following the sound. He reached a bend in the path where the stream cascaded down a rocky outcrop. Alistair leaned down and drank deeply from the cool, clear water, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
At the back in the grass a movement can be seen from there, the thing is watching Alistair from the bushes. The eyes started to glow staring at him. Alistair started to move and went inside the forest the eyes started to follow Alistair.
After a few minutes of frantic walking, Alistair stopped to catch his breath. He gathered a pile of dry twigs and leaves, then settled near a large rock. He carefully arranged the kindling and rummaged in his pocket, retrieving a small, sharp piece of rock. He remembered watching his mother use a similar tool to start a fire. With a determined frown, he began to rub the rock against a larger stone, sparks flying in all directions. The sound of scraping filled the air. He gritted his teeth, pushing harder, hope flickering in his eyes. Just as a small spark ignited the tinder, the rock slipped from his grasp, scraping a small cut on his finger. He cried out in pain, instinctively sucking the hurt finger into his mouth.
Unbeknownst to Alistair, the glowing eyes were now much closer, watching intently as he tended to his wound.
---
Two soldiers stood guard at the entrance to the royal palace, their backs ramrod straight, their eyes scanning the vast courtyard beyond.
"Do you think Talthon the Strong can actually defeat the king?" one soldier asked his companion, his voice barely a whisper.
"It's hard to say," the other soldier replied, his gaze unwavering. "Both Talthon and the king are powerful warriors. We just have to wait and see how it unfolds."
King Thassalor sat upon his throne, a smirk playing on his lips. Across from him stood Talthon, his face etched with a mixture of worry and defiance.
"You heard me correctly, Talthon," the king declared, his voice dripping with condescension. "I want your land. All of it, along with the possessions inherited from your father."
Talthon's jaw clenched tight. "Never!" he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Those lands and belongings are precious memories, a link to my ancestors and my father. They hold stories of battles won and hardships overcome. They are the very foundation of my identity. I wouldn't surrender even a single blade of grass. If taking them is your only goal, I'd rather die than submit to your tyranny!"
"Oh, dear Talthon," the king purred, his smile widening. "Please, don't take my words so harshly. I have no intention of causing you emotional distress." He chuckled, a chilling sound that filled the room. "But remember," he continued, his voice hardening, "if you refuse to cooperate..." He trailed off, his eyes flickering towards the woman held captive by General Ecolier at the back of the throne room.
Talthon shut his eyes, a wave of fear crashing over him. His face contorted in a mix of terror and rage. He saw the face and condition of his wife and the villager young women at the back. The sight of her bound and helpless fueled a fire in his gut.
"What's the other option?" he rasped out, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his ears.
The king leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Talthon with a calculating gaze. The worry on Talthon's face fueled a twisted sense of pleasure within him. He was about to reveal the second option, the ultimate test of Talthon's loyalty and strength, a test that would force him to choose between his heritage and the life of an innocent woman.
"Ah, I see," Thassalor chuckled, pacing before Talthon. "Your mind works as swiftly as I could have hoped." He stopped in front of Talthon, a sly smile spreading across his face. "Now, for your second option..." Thassalor closed his eyes for a moment, a sinister smile playing on his lips. He opened them again, his voice dripping with malice. "You must kill Corvus Kein."
Talthon's eyes widened in disbelief. "Kill?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
"Indeed," Thassalor confirmed, his smile widening further. "Confront Corvus Kein. He is a sworn enemy of mine."
"I... I'm supposed to kill someone because you're enemies?" Talthon's voice rose in anger. "Why would I do that? You know I'm against violence!"
A voice, heavy with sorrow, reached him from behind it was Alistair's mother. "My dear," she pleaded, "you wouldn't do something like this... Please, try to understand. Your father was against violence too... You remember, don't you?"
"Yes," Talthon growled, clutching at the memory of his father's teachings. "Every word. But King Thassalor, I reject your offer." He met the king's gaze defiantly, his eyes blazing with righteous anger.
"Oh, I see..." Thassalor murmured, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes.
A sob escaped the young woman in General Ecolier's grasp. Her hair, still clutched tightly in his cruel hand, seemed to mirror her growing despair.
General Ecolier, his sword glinting in the harsh light, pressed the tip to the young woman's throat. A small, choked scream escaped her lips as tears welled up in her eyes.
"No! Stop, you idiot!" Talthon roared, his voice thick with rage and a desperate plea. The sight of the terrified woman fueled his anger, his hands clenching into fists.
Thassalor sauntered over, a cruel smile plastered on his face. He reached out, placing a hand on Talthon's shoulder, and roughly pulled him closer.
"You've reached a critical juncture, Talthon," Thassalor hissed, his voice cold and calculating. "Choose. Save your people, your family, even this young woman. Or refuse, and watch them all suffer the consequences. They'll become nothing but slaves, broken and compliant."
Thassalor had indeed played a masterful hand, forcing Talthon into a seemingly impossible choice. He had anticipated Talthon surrendering his land, but this unexpected turn added a layer of intrigue to the game. Either way, Thassalor saw Talthon's demise as the ultimate prize.
Talthon stood there, his head bowed, shoulders slumped under the weight of the impossible decision. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke in a low voice, his words echoing eerily in the vast throne room.
"I accept your second offer, King Thassalor."
A flicker of surprise crossed Thassalor's face. "He chose it?" he thought, a smirk playing on his lips. "Interesting. I expected him to offer the land. But no matter... he'll be dead soon enough." Thassalor watched Talthon, his gaze filled with chilling anticipation.
"Release her, Ecolier," Thassalor commanded, his voice sharp.
"Yes, Your Majesty!" General Ecolier bowed and stepped back, releasing the woman. She stumbled forward, collapsing onto the cold stone floor, tears streaming down her face.
"So," Thassalor turned back to Talthon, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, "you've finally embraced violence, haven't you?"
"Yes, because I have no choice!" Talthon roared, his voice laced with barely contained fury. "Release the villagers! I accept this... this barbaric option." His eyes blazed with a fiery anger that seemed to challenge the very foundations of the throne room.
Talthon stood frozen for a moment, a tempest of emotions swirling within him. "You win, Thassalor," he thought, a bitter taste in his mouth. "Because I value my people, peace, and the sanctity of human life. I cannot bear the thought of further bloodshed. I've made my choice, but the path is shrouded in darkness. How am I to face this Corvus Kein?"
A sly smile crept across Thassalor's face. "He's fallen right into my trap," he thought. "This Corvus is no mere adversary. He's a formidable opponent. Perhaps Talthon will be lucky enough to win, but the chances are slim. Either way, he walks towards his demise."
Talthon, his gaze fixed on the king, spoke again, his voice regaining a semblance of control. "I have agreed to your terms," he declared. "But I require a favor, King Thassalor."
"A favor, you say? And what might that be?" Thassalor's voice dripped with a false sense of curiosity.
"Half your army and time to prepare for this war," Talthon replied, his voice firm. "Two months, at least. I need to strategize, to gather my forces, both physical and mental."
A surprised chuckle escaped Thassalor's lips. "Oh, very well," he said, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Rest assured, I will begin freeing the villagers as we speak. But..." He paused, letting the word hang heavy in the air.
Talthon's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering within them. "But what?" he demanded, his voice taut with tension.
There's one condition," Thassalor announced, a sly glint in his eyes. "The villagers will be free, but not entirely. They will work for me, contributing a significant portion of their earnings as tax. This tax will fund the kingdom's coffers, ensuring the prosperity and security of all."
"Tax?" Talthon roared, his anger reignited. "This is a mockery of freedom! You're simply extracting profit from their misfortune! You're nothing but a greedy tyrant, enslaving them with debt!"
Thassalor feigned innocence, cupping a hand over his ear. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."
A chilling smile stretched across Thassalor's face. "Money, my dear Talthon, is the lifeblood of any kingdom. A strong treasury allows for a strong military, improved infrastructure, and a flourishing economy And i Enjoy it."
"Release them, Ecolier," Thassalor commanded, his voice sharp. "Free the villagers, provide them with land, and explain the new tax laws."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" General Ecolier bowed and acknowledged the order.
Thassalor turned his gaze towards Talthon, a cruel amusement flickering in his eyes. General Ecolier stepped forward, moving to unbind Talthon and Alistair's mother.
Thassalor watched silently as General Ecolier unbound Talthon and Alistair's mother. A single thought echoed in his mind: "You've chosen the more difficult path, Talthon. Now, let's see how you fare on the battlefield. One thing I must admit, Talthon, I admire your courage. It's a rare thing these days, to find someone who stares down a tyrant with such unwavering confidence. And your strength, both physical and mental, is undeniable. That never-say-die attitude is a quality I find... intriguing. Perhaps even useful."
A hint of twisted respect flickered beneath Thassalor's usual cruel amusement. Talthon, despite being backed into a corner, had shown a strength of character that Thassalor couldn't help but grudgingly admire. It was a quality that most lacked in these subservient times. Of course, that admiration was quickly overshadowed by the thrill of the coming conflict. Talthon's defiance was a challenge, a game to be played, a puzzle to be solved.
Talthon rose to his feet, a flicker of defiance in his eyes despite the anger etched on his face. "I take my leave, King Thassalor," he declared, his voice laced with a barely concealed threat. "Do not forget your promise."
Thassalor remained silent, his gaze fixed on Talthon as he stormed out of the throne room with Alistair's mother by his side. A cruel smile played on Thassalor's lips as he watched them go.
"Death or survival," he mused, a hint of dark anticipation in his voice. "The choice lies solely with you now, Talthon." The king leaned back in his throne, a satisfied smirk lingering on his face. He savored the prospect of the coming battle, the chance to test his own strength against Talthon's. Perhaps, Thassalor thought, Talthon would prove to be a worthy adversary after all. Someone who could offer a challenge, a fight, a game worth winning.
--------------------------------------Chapter 5 Ended--------------------------------------------------------
