With a boom, the doors to the throne room crash against the waiting guards inside, sprawling them across the polished marble floor. King Manu rushes in with his sword held aloft, waiting to strike the nearest living thing. His ruby eyes ablaze with every turn of his head, searching for something to kill.

"Where is she?" he booms, the sound reverberating through the elongated throne room. His voice carries along in an echo, bouncing off the smooth, marble walls.

The rumble of boots from behind makes him turn. His eyes meet Oaklen, the captain of his personal guard. The fire in his eyes abates slightly as he nods, taking in the other men pouring in behind him. "Sire, we have searched the entire citadel. There is no sign of the Quee—"

"No," Manu whispers, cutting his captain off. "She is no longer queen here."

"Apologies, my Lord. The Lady Freya is not in the citadel, I am sure of it. We have searched every corridor, up and down. The kitchens, the battlements, even the dungeons below. Unless there are hidden passages, she has fled the citadel, even Norridan itself, if she came back here."

"She must be found. She has the last brightstone, and it will be mine." Manu looks away, his senses tingling, creeping down his spine as he watches the two guards attempting to get back to their feet. He points his sword at the closest; his scrambling body struggling in full plate. "Stay there," he smirks. "Look again, Oaklen. I have utter faith that you will locate her." He turns back to his captain, his eyes sparkling, reflecting the light globes that illuminate the throne room all around. "My utter faith, Oaklen." He smirks, lighting up his face but his eyes threaten something else.

Oaklen shuffles on the spot and swallows before finding his voice. "Of course, Sire," he says with a bow. He stands to attention and slams a fist against his chest plate. "Baal!"

"Yes, yes. Before you go, send for Bragar, will you? I need to speak with him."

"I will send for the lieutenant, my Lord," Oaklen scowls.

Manu twitches at his reaction. I will remember that. "Yes, now go. I have guards to deal with." He turns from his men, his eyes ablaze once more as he takes in the guards still frozen, awaiting his judgment. "Now, what do we do with the two of you?"

"S-S-S Sire, please?" one stutters.

"Enough," Manu whispers, his voice carrying across the throne room silencing the guard. Manu stares at them both, his gaze unwavering. "Stand."

"Yes, my L—"

"Do not speak," he says softly. "Obviously you know who I am? So I will not patronise you, only know, that what is about to happen, I will enjoy it immensely." His lip curls cruelly as the last word leaves his mouth.

"But, Sire. Please, we are humble guards. We will serve you loyally."

His eyes flick up, holding the man's gaze. Unblinking, the guard squirms under his ruby eyes and looks away, knowing his fate. "You think you will serve me loyally?" he mocks. "You think, I, King Manu, have need of two pathetic, snivelling, worms like you?" He pauses, his tone changing, becoming kinder. "I think not, I'm afraid. No, I have no need of any more guards, especially ones who would so quickly betray the ones whom they have sworn to protect and serve, eh?"

"Sire," the other guard speaks now. "I am Theetis, Holland guard to House Saur." The sound of clinking plate echoes through the throne room as he makes his way to his feet. "You are in the throne room of King Folknor and Queen Freya of House Saur. You, Lord, are not welcome here, so I implore you to leave the way you came."

Theetis finishes pulling himself to his full height. His glistening plate shines out, reflecting the light from the orbs around them. His hand sits on the pommel of his sword with his jaw set in a grimace.

Anger is the first emotion that bubbles to the surface but he turns it into a smirk letting out a chortle that shocks the guards momentarily. "Ha! Finally some back-bone. You," he points to Theetis, "will get what you want, but first..." He turns from Theetis, eyeing the other guard still sitting on the polished marble floor. "You, my snivelling wretch," he pauses, a smirk plastered across his face as his sword flicks up and thrusts forward, impaling the unfortunate man through his exposed throat. His breath escapes in a raspy exhale of air. His eyes widen at the realisation before a gurgle erupts from within, spilling his lifeblood for all to see. Manu rips his sword free and watches the guardsman slump as a crimson pool spreads itself across the now imperfect floor.

"You can die."

Manu turns to Theetis, his face now devoid of all emotion. He blinks once before his ruby eyes hold him on the spot. He flicks his wrist, sending droplets of crimson flying. "Now, Theetis. You get to decide what happens next."

"Lord?" Theetis questions, his eyes shifting as he attempts to avert his gaze.

"You said I was no longer welcome here, yes?"

"I did," Theetis replies softly.

"Good. Now you get your chance, Theetis. I will leave if," he pauses. "You can best me?"

Theetis stands taller, his confidence growing as a small twitch pulls at his lips. "When I best you, you will leave this place?" he asks as his eyes trail over the cooling corpse of his fellow guardsman.

"Mmm. If, you best me." He grins, all teeth and no humour.

"Let us begin then," Theetis says releasing his long sword.

"Very well. This will be fun, eh?" Manu replies, lifting his short sword, its point aimed at Theetis' chest plate.

"Battle is not fun, my Lord."

"Ha! Well, it should be," Manu smirks.

He winks at the guardsman and skips forward, thrusting with the tip of his short sword towards his exposed throat. Theetis side-steps and parries with the flat of his blade before jumping back out of distance.

"You have some skills I see," Manu remarks. "Time to test you properly then." He utters the last word with a smirk once more before striking. He aims high then low, spins to the left aiming for the soft spot under the arm. Theetis does well, parrying each attack and moving swiftly away from harm. Manu steps back, pausing as he takes in the guardsman. His frame is tall but agile under his armour, his brown eyes watching him intently for the slightest sign of any movement. He turns his head, staring at his face and the golden blond hair poking out from under his half-helm.

By the Gods! He taught you, didn't he? Yes, I can see it in the movement.

"You are good, young Theetis. Too good for just any mere guard, I would say." Theetis utters not a word. His mouth is a thin line beneath focused eyes. "It is okay, you need not say anything. But this whole situation has just got even more interesting to me. I came here to claim Norridan for myself after defeating the mighty Folknor, High King of Kankor. And what do I find? Not his queen, the betrayer but his most prized student." He watches Theetis as his expression changes. He watches him blink, watches as his lip begins to tremble. There it is. Manu revels in the pain.

"How?" Theetis questions.

Manu smirks, noticing how his sword arm drops the slightest bit. He turns to the side whilst keeping his eyes locked to the guardsman, waiting, lapping in the pain he is causing. "Your movement. I have known Folknor for, wait, forgive me, Theetis? My mind isn't what it used to be. I knew," he corrects himself with a smirk that widens at the pain etched across the guardsman's face. "Folknor for a very long time. I knew," he pauses again. "How he moved, his techniques and everything about his fighting style. The only difference is that you chose to use a long sword. But, who uses hurlbats now anyway, eh?"

"Do... not... mock me," Theetis breathes through gritted teeth. "Me or my King." He lunges forwards.

I have you now.

Manu watches as the tip of the long sword drives towards his face, the point jabbing with lightning speed. Manu waits. He waits until the sword-tip is mere inches away seeing the flicker of triumph spread across his face before reacting. With cat-like reflexes, Manu side steps bringing his blade up and around to find the soft tissue under Theetis' arm, and thrusts it in and ripping it free in a single movement. Theetis falters, the flicker of a smile replaced with one of wonder. He half-turns staggering on a few steps before his sword slips from his grasp.

"How?" he splutters.

Manu shrugs as he watches the colour drain from his face. "I am me. I am a King. and now you will die here alone and unable to serve the great House of Saur again," he finishes with a sneer.

A wheezy chuckle erupts from Theetis. "You..." he falters as he drops to his knees in a clash of steel and stone.

"What is so funny? You are dying."

Theetis lick crimson-coated lips before uttering another word. "You will... never find her." He swallows, making Manu wait. "And if you do, she... will kill you... all." He lets out another laugh before toppling forwards mixing his lifeblood with the already congealing pool from before.

"You know nothing," Manu spits. He steps towards the leaking body, raises his sword, bringing it down with a ferocity unbeknownst to even him. "You!" He hacks again. "Know!" And again. "Nothing!" And again.

He hacks and slashes until his arms are tired and when the sparks are no longer visible. He staggers back, his short sword hanging loosely from bloodied fingers. He wipes at his brows smearing crimson across his face as he looks on at his handiwork.

"Well, that was interesting."

Manu spins about, lifting his sword to face the new voice.

"Now, now, Sire. No need for that."

"Bragar."

"You called, Sire?"

Manu flicks his wrist, sending droplets of Theetis' blood across the room and sheathes his sword. It clicks into place and he straightens breathing in the iron-tinged air. "Yes, Bragar I did. Have you any news?"

"No, my Lord. The brightstones are being elusive as ever."

"Hmm, that is not good my friend. Have we—"

"Sire! Sire!" a shrill voice echoes through the corridor leading to the throne room. Manu stares hard as a scrawny man in his mid-forties hobbles through the ancient archway intricately carved with scrollwork and stops no more than three paces away.

"What is it Hanar?" Manu barks. "You interrupted me. You know how I dislike being interrupted, Hanar."

"Forgive me, my King, but I bring new of great importance."

"Well, spit it out."

"We have found one, Sire. We have found one of the brightstones."

"Good. For that, and only news of that, you will be spared." He turns to Bragar once more. "Come, let us plan."

"Very well, Sire," he replies.

Manu claps him on the shoulder with a smile and walks under the archway of the great throne room of Norridan. He pauses after several paces and turns. "And, Hanar?"

"Yes, Sire?"

"Clean this up, will you?"

Then he strides away with Bragar following a pace behind.