Mikal

The late morning sun seeped through the sheer chiffon curtains, illuminating the gilded furniture and adding warmth to the pale stone walls.

"Must you always take that long?" Vilfred complained as he helped Mikal fasten the hooks at the back of his coat. "We're going to be late for council again."

"It doesn't matter," Mikal said absently. He had far more important things to worry about now. Vilfred must have sensed his distress for he turned around to face him, looking at him in concern.

"What's wrong Mikal?"

Mikal was silent for a long moment. For the first time in his life, he felt hesitant. He had been thinking it over and over in his head for the past couple of days. He knew he could trust Vilfred. He knew Vilfred was the only one who could help him. But he was scared. Not because of what had happened, but because of what he intended to do about it. Mikal looked up towards the terrace, making sure that no one was spying on them, although no one could spy on them from there anyway.

"Daria was sent to kill me," Mikal finally said, finding no point in hiding it any longer. And as he expected, Vilfred froze in his place, his green eyes widening in shock. "She came to my room at midnight with a knife hidden beneath her clothes," Mikal continued as Vilfred remained silent, apparently unable to utter a word.

"Do you... do you have any idea... who could have sent her?" Vilfred finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper, and his face as pale as snow.

"Who else could it be?" Mikal whispered. "It's Bernard of course."

"Bernard..." Vilfred sighed, appearing to have slightly overcome his initial shock.

"Yes Bernard. Remember when he tried to strangle me to death that night after high council? Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't appeared on time."

"I've brushed that off as a mere threat..." Vilfred said.

"It was not a fucking threat. He was trying to kill me! He had wanted me dead ever since that night," Mikal continued with narrowed eyes. "He knows well I am the most powerful person in Nordenland, far stronger and smarter than he ever dreams to be. A few words I spoke in high council turned half the North against him. He fears I am going to take his place, which I would indeed very fucking much love to! So the fucking coward is trying to kill me."

A long pause of silence followed and Vilfred shook his head. "The bastard... It's happening all over again," he sighed. "He is trying to get rid of you, just like he did with father."

Mikal tensed at the unexpected mention of his father and he turned his face away.

"I must find a way to kill him before he kills me," Mikal said quickly, trying to block out his father's image from his head. He did not want to go back to that dark memory...

"Kill Bernard..." Vilfred said almost whispering.

"Will you help me?" Mikal asked as he turned back to look at Vilfred.

"Are you... are you asking me to help you kill Bernard?"

"Yes. Hire an assassin like he did and kill him."

"Wait, wait, just hold on," Vilfred interrupted. "We can't just go and hire an assassin like he did. Just think of it. How do you think it would look like when he's discovered dead a few days after he replaced you with Hilda? This will raise many suspicions. Now if you want to kill him we must make it appear natural."

"And how the fuck are we going to do that?" Mikal scowled. He was angry now all of a sudden. All he wanted was to get Bernard killed. As soon as possible. Vilfred sighed and paced the room a few times, thinking.

"Alright," Vilfred smiled as he looked up at Mikal. "I'll hire an assassin, but he's going to kill him during our coming battle."

"No," Mikal snapped. "I am not going to wait that long."

"It's the only guaranteed way, Mikal. He'll die during battle. You'll claim his place on the spot. No questions will be asked."

"Do we even know when we will go into battle? We haven't even set out to hire the mercenaries yet. That is going to take a long time!"

"Well, you've waited for too long already. I'm sure you can wait a bit more." Vilfred paused for a moment before he continued, adding bitterly, "you should have already killed him since the day he sent father to his death."

Mikal turned his face away as Vilfred mentioned his father again, fighting the tears that threatened to rise to his eyes. Why did Vilfred bring up father again now?

"Stop turning your face away every time I mention father!" Vilfred said. "If it bothers you so much you should have done something about it earlier."

"And why haven't you done something?" Mikal snapped, struggling to hold back his tears. "He was your father too!" Mikal could no longer hold himself. Tears suddenly sprang to his eyes as the image of his father's dead body and lifeless eyes haunted him. Yet deep down inside him he knew that Vilfred was right. Mikal should have killed Bernard a very long time ago. But he did not...

Three Years Ago...

Mikal smiled smugly amid the cheers of the surrounding squires as he disarmed a boy twice his size. Despite being a squire of seventeen himself, Mikal had become Nordenland's best swordsman at the time. Trained by his own father Ulrich Nordstrom, Mikal had won every single tournament in the North since his debut. And in addition to his extraordinarily handsome looks and sharp intelligence, which he took after his father, his name was already dominating the Northern scene, rivalling the top knights in Nordenland.

"Sir Ulrich! Sir Ulrich!" It was Sir Sigurd who came hurrying into the courtyard with a horrified expression on his face, interrupting the training. Mikal looked up calmly, knowing that whatever the matter was, it would not be as dreadful as Sir Sigurd, the master of exaggeration, made it appear to be.

"What is it Sigurd?" Ulrich asked with a patient smile.

"Lord Bernard... is calling for... an urgent council!" Sir Sigurd bent forward as he gasped for breath.

"A message, from Lord Johansen of Akaria," Bernard said after everyone had gathered for council. Mikal was not yet eighteen, yet he had been especially chosen by his father, who was Bernard's uncle and prime advisor at the time, to attend the meetings, thus becoming the youngest to ever become a council member in Nordenland. And no one could dare complain.

"According to his words, two black demon ships have showed up at the Coast of Akaria, demanding opening of the Northern ports for trade."

"Demon ships? What nonsense!" Sir Astor sneered.

"These must be ships from the East," Sir Maarten said. "Why would he send us a message about that? Doesn't he know that any ship appearing near our borders should be denied passage at once?"

"Judging by the urgency of Lord Johansen's message, these two ships are apparently not just mere trade ships," Ulrich said, his eyes narrowed in deep thought.

"What do you mean these are not mere trade ships?" Bernard asked.

"Johansen has sent this same message to all the Lords of Nordenland as well, hasn't he? It is obviously a cry for help. I imagine these could only be warships."

"Those filthy heathens, they dare show up at our borders with warships!" Bernard scowled.

"Bernard, we cannot confirm if they are warships or not until we see them for ourselves," Ulrich said calmly.

"Alright then, tomorrow we fly to Akaria!" Bernard decided at once.

Mikal walked quietly behind his father as they headed back to their quarters, yet his whole being was rolling with excitement for his dear father had agreed to take him along the next morning to see the black demon ships. 

A few whispers and soft laughs caught his attention, and he glimpsed a couple of girls standing behind a pillar, blushing and smiling at him. He simply nodded, giving them his faintest smile. The muffled squeals only increased and he couldn't help his growing smile of pride.

"Don't you want to go hang out with them?" Ulrich winked at him knowingly.

"Maybe later," Mikal replied.

"Don't be so cold with the ladies. A nice word or two wouldn't hurt," Ulrich urged. Mikal did not need permission to hang out with girls, but with his father's encouragement, he realized it was not a bad idea after all. He walked up with confidence towards the pillar where two girls stood mostly concealed. He could see their eyes widening and their faces blushing further...

The next morning, Mikal woke up with a start as he found the skies had already turned blue. He was late. He looked at the naked brunette lying asleep by his side, and he cursed himself silently as he hurriedly got out of bed and started dressing up.

As he entered the great hall, he realized that he was the last one to show up, and that they had all been waiting for him!

"I only said a nice word or two," Ulrich whispered in reproach as Mikal reached his side. 

Mikal tried to maintain his calm expression despite his deep embarrassment, although he knew that no one could tell what had happened. Except for his father. But then, he noticed that Vilfred was snickering at him. And except for Vilfred too. 

"Who was the unfortunate girl?" Vilfred teased as they headed out to mount their Pegasi.

"Shut up," Mikal muttered, doing nothing to hide the frown on his face. Despite being the elder brother, Vilfred was still not as strong and intelligent as Mikal at that time, so he was neither a knight nor a council member yet, although he was well past eighteen. 

As Mikal irritably turned to mount his beautiful mare, Alexandra, he found his father standing in his way. Mikal looked up at him in confusion, trying to read that unexpected look in his eyes. He thought that his father was mad at him for taking it too far with the girls, and then showing up late, delaying everyone, and embarrassing him. But the expression in Ulrich's eyes was anything but mad or embarrassed. It was an expression of pure pride.

"What are you upset about?" Ulrich smiled.

"I am not upset," Mikal said, turning his face away sulkily. Ulrich gently cupped Mikal's chin and turned his face back towards him.

"Do you think you've done something wrong?" Ulrich looked him straight in the eyes.

"Of course not. I have done nothing wrong," Mikal said, his head raised high and his eyes unfaltering as he looked back straight at his father. 

"Good then. If you think you did nothing wrong, then don't let anyone make you believe otherwise." Ulrich released Mikal's face and gently patted his shoulder. "Let us get going." Mikal could only smile in satisfaction. How could he not love such a great father? No matter what he did, Ulrich always supported him, constantly encouraging and pushing him towards greatness, without ever criticizing or scolding him. Mikal loved being spoiled by his father, and of course his mother as well. After all, he deserved being spoiled. He was the most attractive and intelligent creature in Nordenland.

The flight to Akaria was not very long. With the strong Pegasi flying at a great speed, they managed to reach Akaria late in the afternoon. As Ulrich had expected, and as Mikal had pictured, the black ships were not trade ships at all, but highly advanced warships, with size and equipment that none of them had ever seen before. And with their massive structure and the menacing gargoyles that decorated them, those ships were apparently deliberately sent to display the unmistakable Kassarathi power and intimidate the Northmen. Anyone with the slightest hint of wisdom would know better than to oppose such a display of power.

"Open the ports of course!" Ulrich whispered to Bernard as the Kassarathi messenger stood before them, conveying his King's request to open the ports and allow trade exchange between the East and Nordenland. "If it is just trade they want, then there would be no harm done."

"I agree Lord Bernard," Lord Johansen of Akaria said. "They threaten to send a hundred ships like these if we deny them entry. I wouldn't dare imagine what would happen if they send a hundred of these – "

Everyone was instantly silenced, for without warning, Bernard had suddenly taken out his sword and chopped off the messenger's head on the spot. 

"We will not be threatened by a bunch of fucking heathens," Bernard declared pompously while a pool of blood grew beneath the messenger's fallen body. "A hundred ships my ass! They think they can scare us off with this shit? They have probably used up all their gold just to build these two junk pieces of black wood and ugly gargoyles!"

But a month later, a hundred of the same massive black demon warships did appear at the coast of Akaria...

It was Mikal's eighteenth birthday. But what should have been a day of celebration had turned to an ominous day of horror as news reached from Akaria.

"There has been an attack!" Ulrich said gravely as an urgent council was called. "The Kassarathi have taken Akaria, and they are now on their way inland. They are sweeping everything in their way! Towns, villages... They have demonic forces plundering and burning everything. It will be a matter of a day or two before they reach Nordenvania!" Mikal's heart raced. He had never seen his father so nervous, or scared! "I told you Bernard. We should have opened the ports," his father continued as he scowled at his nephew. "Look what you have led us to!"

"Uncle," Bernard turned to Ulrich, holding both his hands and looking at him with eyes full of horror. "You have to stop them! Take all our forces and stop them. Don't let them come near Nordenvania!"

Mikal couldn't help but clench his fists in anger. So Bernard fucks up everything and then asks Ulrich to clean up after him. What Bernard asked for now was certain death. He opened hell upon them when he killed that Kassarathi messenger and sent his head to their King. And now as this hell was approaching them, he was throwing his father right into it.

"Father, don't go," Mikal said as they returned to the privacy of their room, only his brother Vilfred witnessing their conversation. "If Bernard wants to fight the Kassarathi why wouldn't he lead our forces himself?"

"Even if he wanted to lead our forces himself, I would be the first one to stop him," Ulrich said. "I'd never trust him, or trust anyone else, to lead a fight against these demons. Only I can do that."

"But it was his fault the Kassarathi attacked in the first place, why should he ask you to pay for his mistakes?"

"I am not paying for anyone's mistakes sweetheart. Whether he asked me to fight or not, it is what I have to do. I am doing it to save our people."

"But father, he is sending you to a certain death!"

Ulrich chuckled. "Come on sweetheart. Don't you trust your father can kill off a bunch of heathens?"

"But – "

"Don't worry, son. It will only be a fight just like any other."

"Then I will go fight with you."

"No, child. You will stay here with your mother and – "

"No!" Mikal snapped. "I will go with you! I am not a child!"

"And I too father." Vilfred interfered. "I will join you too."

***

It was Mikal's first battle, yet it was his father's last one. Surrounded by the endless clanking of swords and dying cries, Mikal fervently fought off the relentless attacks that hailed around him from every direction, realizing with horror that this was nothing like the daily training or the seasonal tournaments he was used to. Struggling to breathe amid the rising dust and smoke, Mikal swung his sword against the black-clad demons, while flinching with each strike and shuddering with each falling body.

Showered in raining blood and gasping for breath, he continued to fight, his heart hammering in horror as the savages charged at him, his eyes blinded by flashing blades and his chest choked by the stench of blood. And it all happened in a moment. His father suddenly appeared before him, followed by a massive falling blade, the tearing sound of flesh, and splattering blood. And Ulrich fell into Mikal's arms...

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