Metropolis and Gothamia were neighbours, the one's borders  beginning just where the other's ended. From afar, they looked like one and the same, built upon two identical, mountain tops abreast. Yet, their similarities ended there. Metropolis looked like a realm bathed in light, full of busy streets, local merchants who thrived, buildings of magnificent architecture, and a smile on every subject's face. However, Gothamia was the exact opposite.

Most people believed that realm was cursed, that some fiendish magician had put a spell on it and condemned it to eternal erebus, desolation, penury, and feloniousness. Every sort of delinquents and outlaws roamed the Kingdom's streets day and night, yet specifically at nightfall its condition grew insufferably dire, overwhelmingly hideous. No one, man or woman, adult or child, could wander, meander or merely walk on the cobbled roads and streets without an overly high risk of their own lives. This was the first lesson every child was taught after standing on their feet; never to be out of their house's safety after sunset. Obviously, not even the houses were safe but they could definitely provide some protection better than an alley or a narrow street, with dim light and dark corners.

All this decadence was a result of two decades of defective governing by King Bruce's Regents. His parents had been taken from him on to the Eternal Kingdom of the Dead, while he was but eight years old. Obviously, he couldn't be crowned King at that age, therefore a few Viseroys were cursorily elected from the Council of Nobles, to rule for him until his coming of age. Those men had destroyed his Kingdom, spending all the money from the treasury on vain gatherings, luscious dinners, and prodigalities of each specimen. In order, of course, to maintain an income, they had deliberately increased taxes to an overwhelming amount, which brought the peasants to their knees and on the verge of pauperisation. In the end, they had loved their positions of profiteering so much that they didn't want to let them go, when Bruce would be old enough to sit on his rightful throne. Therefore, Sir Alfred, the Lord Chamberlain of the Palace, had sent the Prince away secretly, to the Kingdom of Metropolis, where he was raised along with his peer Prince Kal until the age of twelve, when he returned to Gothamia, to be properly educated and instructed to become a King.

As he neared manhood, though, Bruce didn't feel ready to wear a crown of such a troubled nation. Therefore, he left Lord Alfred himself as Viceroy and had traveled around the world. He was fortunate enough not only to visit majestic and palatial places such as the Bare Mountains of Thanagar, where winged warriors lived more like hawks, predatory and fierce, than people, or Oa, the Oaken Valley, the far off land of the Green Lanterns, the peaceable monks who guarded the greatest power in the world and trained the most brilliant, promising and valiant fighters. He had lived there for a whole year and was fortunate enough to meet his most loyal knight, Sir John Stewart, who gained himself the agnomen "The Emerald Knight", as soon as they returned to Gothamia, given the dark green armor he proudly wore.

Yet, his greatest journey was on the Black Cordillera, the mountains where he had met the infamous League of Assassins and Court of Owls, the deadliest armies in the world, that rarely emerged from their dens and were considered rather legendary than real. That was where he had completed his military training and evolved himself into a skilled, ruthless, relentless fighter, an indefatigable, unwavering and insurmountable combatant. He was raised with the ways of the Occident, yet his eastern travels infused the Orient in his mind as well, chiselling an intelligent, wise and cunning mind, along with a character both gallant and lupine, magnificent and parlous.

When he returned to Gothamia for good, after travelling abroad for six years, he felt ready, mature and savant enough to govern and rule justly, honourably, like his late parents had before him. He was twenty two years old back then, full of spirit, vigour, and ardour, eager to submerge himself to work for his state and people. Back then, he could not realise how deleterious his decision to leave was.

His kingdom had befallen to an even worse state as he remembered it and it was only thanks to his loyal Chamberlain that it was not completely corrupt and descended into chaos and anarchy. Malefaction was the law and Felony the leader. The people lived in constant fear and terror, rectitude was rewarded with violence, lawfulness with rancour and erudition with obscurantism. Some very powerful men had slinked from the murky shadows and squalid sewers in the highest places of sway, whether that was the Cities' Guard or The Council of Nobles or the Squirearchy Senate. Bruce had sincerely thanked the Occidental Gods, for keeping Lord Alfred alive, having miraculously survived numerous attempts on his life. The old knight and Chamberlain could not trust a single soul, apart from a few who had been devoted to Good King Thomas and sworn fealty to his only son and heir. Most of those people, however, had been assassinated through the years of the Prince's absence.

Yet, when Bruce's return was widely known, Lord Alfred has welcomed him to the capital and the Palace, as if nothing was wrong.

"Your Majesty," he cordially exclaimed, bowing his head in homage to the oncoming sovereign. He had deliberately addressed him as a King, not as a Prince, to remind to everyone who could listen that their rightful ruler had come back for evermore.

"Alfred," was the equally warm response of Bruce, who leaned in and hugged the older man, quite surprising him.

"Did you enjoy your sails, my Liege?" Alfred inquired, maintaining a straight face, while his eyes scrutinised the young man, to realise that he was indeed changed.

"They certainly helped me feel better about wearing that heavy, golden wreath on my head," Bruce retorted, making Alfred smirk for a split second. "I shall tell you all about them later. But first, let me introduce you my new friend, Sir John Stewart of the Oaken Valley."

Alfred inspected the foreigner closely, with curiosity and scrutiny. He had heard about the Oa Monks, their discipline, learning and loyalty and thought that if this dark skinned man clad in green had proven himself to the Prince, he would have his trust as well. He nodded in approval, welcoming the "Emerald Knight" on the Palace formally. The tall man answered humbly and respectfully, which seemed to please the Lord Chamberlain.

"Your Royal Highness, would you like to bathe and refresh yourself?" He finally asked, aiming to ensure some time to have a private conversation with Bruce out of prying ears.

A simple eye sign was enough to make himself clear. Bruce did not need another indication. It had been six years since his last conversation with the oldster, nevertheless he had not forgotten his lessons on the "Shadow Language" as Alfred called the physical signs of Gothamia's spies, whom he used to lead aforetime.

The information he had gathered that day from his Chamberlain were naught but noisome and ominous. As soon as he learned about the stupendous, almost uncontrollable delinquency that reigned his provinces, his heart had sunk. When he heard that no one around him could be trusted, he was devastated and mad at himself foremost. He realised his foolishness, aberration and folly of leaving his frangible homeland in order to travel the world and see its wonders. Undoubtedly, he had bocome a better and more intelligent person, though he did not know if his qualities would suffice to restore and rebuild all that was vitiated and decadent.

King Bruce shook his head, trying to ignore his troubled thoughts, his farrago of guilt and insecurities that still haunted him, eight years after his formal return and solemn coronation. He sat up on his gargantuan bed and let the faint sunlight of dawn, the Aurora gleam, as his mother called it once, bathe his half naked form. He secretly loved waking up this early, for he felt that silver light as some sort of expiatory fire, one that could cleanse him from his past errors.

Then, he heard the woman next to him stir, and felt a bit guilty for waking her as well. Just when he was about to touch and lull her back to sleep, the door opened and closed with a sudden and thunderous thud. He did not even need to look to recognise the only person in the country who would storm his bedroom at that hour and in such curt manner.

"What is it, Shayera?" He asked in a rough from sleep voice, no less displeased though, for her obvious intrusion.

"Your Majesty," the Commander of the Shadows addressed him, utterly lackadaisical and indifferent to the female presence in his bed. After a swift bow of her head, shoulders and wings, she moved to the matter at hand. "Lord Alfred is concerned and restless for an affair that only you can determine."

"Which is?" Bruce urged her to go on, his hand finding his bedfellow's smooth back.

"Your birthday celebration and ball, my Liege," Shayera explained, quite impatiently.

Obviously, she had other places to be and felt that this was a waste of time. King Bruce hated balls and grand feasts on the Palace, yet they were obligatory for a man of his status.

"No need for that, Shayera," he grunted, not bothering to hide his disapproval and ennui, even at the thought of weeks of organising, planning and spending preposterous amounts of money. "I would rather invite all the peasants and panhandlers of Gothamia to supper than those nobles, who cannot be pleased with anything, gossip and twitter like girls constantly."

"You shall be thirty years old next month," Shayera pointed out boldly. "And, given your current state, it would be wise to consider the choice of a-"

"I believe you should reduce your time in Alfred's presence," Bruce interrupted her, while standing up. "Apparently, he has succeeded in instilling his senile and obsolete ideas to your young brain as well. What an oxymoron! Now, Shayera, I order you to leave my chamber at once. In case you and Alfred had forgotten, I am the King and I shall make the final decision of how to celebrate my accurst birthday. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," was her only reply, though his conspiratorial wink was enough to persuade her that he was in his usual act, the one of a carefree and benign man, so far from reality. "Shall you have your breakfast with the boys?"

"Yes, but not so soon," Bruce answered, stroking the naked woman's neck. She did not care to be seen by Shayera. After all, it was not the first time she caught them like that. "I have some unfinished business here and it shall be over in an hour or so."

The winged warrior of Thanagar could not help but roll her eyes tiredly.

"Very well," she made to leave, not willing to stay for even another minute. "Do not be too loud, though. The servants make too much fun of you."

The startled eyes of the dark haired liaison of her King was all she needed to smirk widely and continue her day in jocundity.

"What a crusty woman," Selene Kyle remarked, after they were finally left alone once again. "It's evident she yearns for a man's touch and cannot have it because of her brutishness."

"Unlike you," Bruce signalised with a wicked smile and bent down to kiss her fiercely. It was going to be a long day and her warm comfort would slacken him.

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Hello, everyone and thank you very much for waiting for this update! I hope it was ample for the months it took.

Firstly, I have got to thank all those amazing people who commented, they truly urged me to update again!

I would love it if you all did actually, comments are the only ones that keep me going! It is a book truly challenging but I am delighted and motivated to write, when I know you like it or not (why not?)

Anyway, thank you very much once more and let us proceed in a few explanations of that chapter.

Selene Kyle is obviously Selina Kyle, I just changed her name a bit, to make it more Medieval. Now, it looks quite Greek and means "Moon". ;) Her character will unveil in the upcoming chapters.

As for the Batfamily, they will all be presented in the next chapter and I can tell you there are quite many of them!

Now, Shayera and John! God, I cannot wait to write their interactions! How Shayera came to be there, after her vagrancy around the world after leaving Themiscyra will be explained later as well.

Lastly, a question for you.

Would you like to see more flashbacks about Bruce's travels and childhood in Metropolis, with Kal?

Have a great day and take care!

P.S. I am preparing an all-British cast! Be warned. 😆😎