The Prince of Aragon

CHAPTER ONE: THE COMPETITION

16 YEARS later, The Ninth realm of Emperor Salvatore…

Clang! Clang! The sound of metal clunking against each other resonated in the courtyard of the Sommerville household as two young boys swung their swords with great mastery. A huge crowd had gathered around the open area, but the fighters were unable to stay within the confined circle, jumping on the rooftop as the fight became more intense.

Connor sneered at Cameron before thrusting his sword forward in a draw cut to attack, but Cameron executed his parry with dexterity at the correct time and carried his riposte in pure reflex. Connor against threw a cut from the other side, and Cameron parried in time, shifting back and forth on the thin borderline of the roofs.

The crowd gasped in amazement.

“They’re going to hurt themselves,” Mrs. Alice Sommerville shouted in motherly concern, frowning down her husband for allowing them to dandle foolishly around. “Let them come down and stop this nonsense.”

Mr. Owen Sommerville didn’t reply his wife, just stole a glance towards his eldest son to confirm whether they should stop the boys. Carter Sommerville threw a stern look in the direction of both his parents who cowered at his forbidding expression and veered back to the fighting scene without daring to say a word.

Just in time to watch Connor aggressively throwing another cut towards his brother, and the latter had to parry high to avoid hurting his face. Too carried away by his success, Connor missed his footing, and sent his thrust gracelessly aside his opponent who used the opportunity to effortlessly dodge the attack. It also handed Cameron the opening to strike.

Cameron jumped on the floor with a soft landing and was already throwing a crooked cut at Connor when the latter joined him. Surprised, Connor didn’t have the time to retaliate when his brother pressed the point of his rapier into his throat.

Connor glared with animosity, but he was well aware of the rules as he lifted his hands in defeat and said. “I yield.”

Both pair of identical eyes homed into piercing hazel ones which belonged to Carter, who clenched his jaw in fury. “Con, how many times do I have to tell not to let the victory get to your head? You had the upper hand until the last minute!”

“Cart,” their mother tried to intervene at how harsh her eldest son sounded, but a slashing gaze from Carter halted her influx of words with an obvious gulp. Her eyes wandered briefly to the crowd in an attempt to warn her son.

“Is this how you’re going to fight tomorrow?!” he roared with anger.

“He is a wussy,” Cameron gloated with arrogance and performed a moulinet above Connor’s head in sheer provocation. “Fights like a girl.”

“Cam!” their sister Isla shouted in irritation at his misogynist comment. “Let’s have a challenge. And I’ll show you how a girl fights,” she swung her sword towards her brother, and Connor snickered with obvious glee while their parents shook their heads benignly at the usual banter.

The only person who kept his equanimity was Carter Sommerville, and that wasn’t because he was too old to join in that nonsense quibble. He was livid with rage.

“Is this all a joke to you?” he hollered furiously making everyone jump at the sound of his grave and loud voice. “Is this how we’re going to present ourselves to the King tomorrow? With those…,” his mouth turned in disgust, hand shoving towards them vehemently. “…stupid conceited moves? Is this how we’re going to be qualified?”

“Cart, we’ve already cleared the five levels. Tomorrow is the last tribulation, we’re the only four who will come out first. Nobody can measure up to us,” Connor informed confidently. “No need to get so worked up.”

The eldest member of the Sommerville family didn’t appreciate that level of presumptuousness, and he growled ferociously to the boy who was seven years younger than himself. The words which left Carter’s mouth were circumspectly enunciated with dangerous clarity. “Do I have to remind you what is at stake?”

Isla touched Carter gently on the shoulder, rubbing in circular motions in an attempt to salvage the situation. “Yes. Everyone is well aware that we need to qualify for the competitions tomorrow so that we can serve our beloved Emperor Salvatore.”

Both Mr. and Mrs. Sommerville came to stand near Isla in support, and Carter watched them with guarded eyes for a long moment before his serious expression cleared a little, the hazel color glazing like liquid honey.

“Of course,” he answered listlessly, relaxing his taunt shoulders against the warmth of the comforting hand lying there. “Let’s just not get ahead of ourselves though. Anything can happen tomorrow. We might not get qualified and therefore lose the opportunity of being the royal servants.”

Mr. Sommerville came at the same level of his eldest son. “You do me proud, son,” he remarked gruffly, a loaded message passed between father and son, while the crowd murmured their approval. The folks were all looking forward to the Golden Sword Competition the next day, to be occurring within the royal premises. “We will have the opportunity to serve our emperor,” he announced passionately.

Most of them shared the thought that Carter Eli Sommerville was the most favorable favorite for tomorrow’s fierce competition. The court hadn’t seen such a famous fight for over a decade, but the royal opponent Shi ni was not to be underestimated, he’d never lost a fight to anyone so far, therefore remaining the right-hand man of the sovereign for decades.

Emperor Salvatore had brought the slave from Sado, and whoever managed to defeat the Samurai during the last trial of the competition would overpower his position at the court. The first five winners will be assigned palatial duties, and of course the higher the rank the more important position.

“Alright,” Mrs. Sommerville cheered with a clap of her hand, happy that the tension was diffused. She absolutely loathed it when her children entertained petty quarrels, there was no need for excessive dramas in their lives. “Let’s go inside for lunch.”

All animosity seemed forgotten as the four children eagerly followed their mother inside the small house, and Mr. Sommerville waved gratefully at the crowd before disappearing inside.

“What the hell!” Carter exploded as soon as they closed the door behind them, cornering the smaller boy in an attempt to intimidate. “Connor, why the hell are you fooling around?”

“Carter! Will you just calm down!” Owen shouted, in complete contrast to the calm man that the outer world had seen outside only a few minutes ago. “You’re spooking everyone for tomorrow. Why don’t you take a walk to calm yourself down?”

“But Owen! Did you see how your sons were…?”

“Alright, enough!” hissed Alice determinedly. “Let us not waste energy today and keep a level head for the contest tomorrow. I have faiths in all my sons, and you’re all getting inside that castle.”

Carter frowned but refrained from commenting by slamming the kitchen door and went to brood outside. It was true that he was skittish. The next day was crucial for them, and seeing the boys dallying around enraged him. They all had to make sure to qualify – the winner would become the emperor’s hand and it was primordial that one of them was that close to Emperor Salvatore.

If only those fools were more focused, even if their battles would be the easiest ones while his was the most challenging. Since he’d qualified first in all the previous trials, his rival would be the dreadful ­Shi ni.

Defeating Shi ni was no piece of cake, he’d seen past fights with other opponents during the previous competitions. The name Shi ni meant the number forty-two in Sadonese but the literal meaning was the death of you. The man lived up to the name, he would stab anyone who stood against him without mercy.

Emperor Salvatore had a perverse streak – for him defeating his most loyal and nimble-fingered soldier was the only way to show more allegiance to his majesty. Emperor Salvatore had proclaimed a two-months visit to the ninth realm and had wanted to organize a competition upon his arrival to the state. Carter was not going to let that unique opportunity go to waste.

With that very mindset, he entered the battlefield the next day, the scorching sand was burning his feet, the blazing sun flamed his exposed skin, but he was too focused on the Samurai who’d just made an appearance. Terrifying was a very apt description for his opponent, as the latter’s lithe body started to move in a perfect sinuous dance to ostentatiously demonstrate his skills to the public while Carter remained calm with his wrath smoldering from inside.

It was all about showing another exterior and not let anyone know what he was experiencing inside. For any onlooker would never have guessed Carter’s restlessness right now. Nobody would have read what was behind his mind.

The two men closed with Carter cutting at his opponent without wasting time. The Samurai parried without effort, and Carter transformed the second attack into an aggressive thrust, relentlessly continuing until they danced around the ring for over an hour.

That was the only tactic to get to the man – Shi ni was over sixty years old in contrast to Carter’s twenty-six, and the great age gap was the only feature he could exploit in that battle. He’d been preparing for this for years – there was no other outcome possible to get this right.

In front of Carter’s unyielding attack, the Samurai had no other option than to parry since there was no scope for a counter riposte. Carter’s strategy was to leave no place for errors or attack in front of the man’s obvious mastery. The key was to never give up the initiative for the Samurai to utilize his finesse against him, because Carter would surely fail in face of the high-level techniques.

Carter had one advantage though, he’d learn how to yield a sword since the day he was born and had been aiming to be the emperor’s right-hand man for a long time. There was no way he could fail this. He had so much stamina that he could go on cutting with his sword for hours without getting tired.

He was just waiting for an opportunity for a deadly strike, one tiny mistake during those almost synchronized movements of going back and forth. It came later, much later when the Samurai’s tip barely slipped, but Carter was waiting for that exact moment, and he thrust forward to create a gash across the rival’s face.

The crowd gasped. No previous opponent had managed to win a score against the great warrior Shi ni, that was why he’d remained the right-hand man for more than two decades.

Carter didn’t allow the noise of the crowd or the anger of his opponent to distract him, he needed his full concentration to dismantle the enemy at that crucial point. In an unexpected moulinet, Carter brought his sword forward to finish the game, but the old man seemed to have anticipated that move. He parried and thrust forward in a cut, with Carter stepping backwards in reflex the tip of the raspier missing his eye by a mere inch, giving the Samurai the upper hand for the first time in the game.

Instead of feeling dispirited, Carter’s hazel eyes blazed with the excess adrenalin as he recuperated quickly, surging forward with vivacious energy. The Samurai seemed surprised by his rival’s razor-sharp focus and vigorous enthusiasm after so many hours of fight.

Carter brought his sword forward around in a tight circle with another cut, almost chopping off the Samurai’s head who dodged the attack at the last minute. The crowd roared noisily, and Carter was too astute to be overwhelmed.

With a deadly blow, he reversed his cut at the last minute into a right oberhau, which the Samurai dodged but he stumbled, and Carter drew another tight moulinet drawing his advantage, repeating the oberhau from above his head to land the tip of his sword a few inches from the man’s chest.

When the great Samurai complied and said the much-awaited words I yield, pandemonium broke out among the crowd in a standing ovation.  

It was only then that Carter relaxed his gaze, taking in his surroundings for the first time since he’d stepped in. He was familiar with the crowd, he used to sneak among them to watch the fights from above. Not everyone was allowed on the arena, and him being the son of a peasant was allowed no such privilege.

But watching the duels had been important to devise the winning strategy to defeat the Samurai. What Carter hadn’t expected though was to find the royal tower filled with people as Emperor Salvatore surged forward on his throne. He’d never been present during those previous competitions. Never.

It was the first time that Carter was laying eyes upon his Master, his arrival kept a surprise so as not to alert his enemies. A man of that caliber had to move within trusted circles and with utmost discretion.

Carter could only stare at his Majesty’s form from the arena, dazed and taken aback by the man’s sudden appearance. He’d been wanting to meet the man for ages, but his Majesty was the conqueror of nine realms, therefore rarely occupying the territories on a full-time basis.

Perching from his high position, Emperor Salvatore surveyed the scene with displeasure, but after a while he summoned Carter up with an arrogant flexing of his finger. Still surprised, Carter didn’t protest when the guards brought both opponents at the feet of his Majesty.

His first impression of Aldo Salvatore was that his lifeless eyes gleamed cruelly, expecting mercy from that man would be signing a death warrant. The slanted face shrunk so much that one would assume that it had no bones, the icy blue eyes almost hidden. What struck one’s attention was a prominent scar which covered half of that hardened visage.

“Let me have a look at my new right-hand man,” Emperor Salvatore drawled in his usual superior tone as Carter approached him with a curtsey. Up close, Carter felt a pang of panic to be so near that legend – some claimed that he was undead. That he was invincible. Immortal.

Myth or reality, Carter could not determine at first glance, but the man had such a formidable caliber that any weak enemy would cower. A good chance that Carter was not one.

“You look quite young,” he commented slowly, snapping his razor-sharp focus back to the Sadonese, who remained head bent in front of his Highness. Losing didn’t put someone in good disposition of his Majesty. “Who are you?” he commanded without removing his eyes from the defeated soldier.

“Carter Eli Sommerville, my Lord. Son of Owen Sommerville. My brothers Connor and Cameron qualified in in the top five. My sister Isla is the first fighter among women. Our family will serve you until our deaths, your Majesty,” Carter announced proudly, and the crowd roared with celebration at the passionately infused words.

Emperor Salvatore adored complete compliance from his people. He waved a hand to silence the crowd. “All four Sommerville kids qualified in the top five?” the emperor repeated as one of apostles whispered something in his ear. “I am impressed. Bring forward the whole family. I wish to see the loyals.”

The loyals was the name Emperor Salvatore gave to people who served him without reserve, those who were prepared to die for him. The rest of the Sommerville members surged forward and curtsied in perfect synchronization in front of their majesty who seemed pleased at such a display of loyalty and dedication.

“Sommerville, you do me proud,” he removed his katana from his sheath and placed in on the shoulders of Owen Sommerville, one at a time. “In response to your loyalty, I hereby make you Owen Sommerville a knight.”

Then, without warning, Emperor Salvatore swung his katana towards the Samurai’s way, and they all stood to witness the beheading of the most loyal man who’d served his Majesty for many years. “Thank you for your loyalty, Shi ni. But it seems like I don’t need you anymore.”

Everybody stood frozen in shock at the display of so much power and lack of mercy. The crowd rumbled at the injustice, that their King would so ruthlessly murder the man who’d been his loyal servant without even flinching. It was done for a very specific purpose. To instill fear in the people, would anyone think of rebellion. The message that the King sent was very clear – if he could kill his own servant, he would not spare the life of his enemies.

Everyone cowered but the Sommervilles didn’t even bat an eyelash.

All six members of the family shared a conspiratorial look – that of victory. Four of them would be allowed inside the castle to serve the monarch and therefore enable them to fulfill their revenge. Against the cruel Emperor Salvatore. What the latter wasn’t suspecting was that those very people standing in front of him in obvious humility had formed a secret allegiance with the common objective to kill the undead sovereign.