Lorian could no longer ignore the dark feelings weighing on his mind- the quiet warnings his subconscious kept throwing at him, which he had tried so hard to push away out of sheer terror that they might turn out to be true.
"SHUT THE DOOR!" Lorian roared, his voice was cracking with panic, "SHUT THE DAMN F***ING DOOR… RIGHT NOW!"
The Throne Guards were completely stunned by their lord's sudden, violent outburst. But they were elite, battle-tested soldiers; reacting purely on instinct, they lunged forward to heave the massive Gold doors shut.
Before the heavy panels could meet in the middle, a desperate, panicked voice cried out from the darkness outside, "My Lord… please, my Lord…!"
The guard holding the edge of the door paused, looking back at Lorian for final orders. It was Rylan Farthom.
"Arghh…" Lorian snarled, grinding his teeth in pure frustration and rage. He waved a shaking hand, "Let him come… only him!"
The guards yanked the door open just enough for Rylan to squeeze through. He stumbled inside, breathless and disheveled, looking around in utter confusion at the tense, weapons-ready soldiers and the pale, trembling lord.
"My Lord…?" Rylan started, taking a step forward.
"STAY RIGHT THERE!" Lorian barked, his eyes were flashing with fury, "And tell me whatever you have to say from where you stand!"
At Lorian's command, the Throne Guards flanking him immediately snapped their heavy fauchards forward, the cruel steel blades stopping just inches from Rylan's chest, forcing him to freeze.
"What is the meaning of this, My Lord?" Rylan asked, his face twisted into an expression of hurt bewilderment, "Why are you treating me like this? I thought you trusted me! Always! Then why?"
Lorian shook his head violently, refusing to bulge, "Cut the garbage. Just tell me your story and get it over with!"
"Milord, I was taking a late-night stroll around the courtyard wall when I noticed two of the guards opening the main gate… just like they did yesterday," Rylan blurted out, speaking in a frantic, unbroken rush, "Tonight, there weren't any other guards around to stop the traitors. I tried to shout for help, but the patrols nearby… they're all fast asleep. That's when I came straight to you. We have to leave, My Lord! Please, you have to come with me!"
"No need," Lorian replied coldly, "I am not running away while my men are out there."
"Please understand, My Lord!" Rylan pleaded, his voice was cracking with desperation, "As long as you are breathing, Veridia has a future. But if you get captured or killed by those scum pirates… Veridia is finished. Gone forever!"
"So, what do you suggest? That I turn tail and run?" Lorian asked in his flat and dangerous tone.
"Yes! Let's escape together through the secret tunnel… out into the forest," Rylan urged, stepping forward, only for the fauchard blades to press closer to his skin.
"And how, exactly, did you find out about that secret path?" Lorian asked, every word of his was dripping with biting suspicion.
"Erm…. well…" Rylan stammered, a sudden flicker of hesitation could be seen across his face, "My father told me about it once… just in case of an emergency!"
A cold, humorless smile touched the corners of Lorian's lips, "Alright. Then let's gather everyone, and we'll all go out together!"
"No, no, My Lord!" Rylan panicked, trying to step past the barrier of weapons, "If we take all the armed forces, nobody will be left to hold the line against the pirates! We have to leave the troops here. After putting up a brief fight to buy us time, they can just surrender to save their skins. It's the only logical choice!"
One of the Throne Guards muttered under his breath, "If fifty of us hold the narrow corridor, we can bottleneck the pirates and buy enough time till daybreak…"
Lorian looked at Rylan, his expression turning mockingly thoughtful, "See? That sounds like a solid plan. Let's do it your way."
"NO!" Rylan screamed, snapping completely. He let out a harsh, ragged breath, trying desperately to reel his temper back in. He glared at Lorian, his polite mask was now entirely gone, "Why are you making this so damn hard, you stubborn, thick-headed idiot?"
The guards stared at him in shock, their brains struggling to catch up to the sudden, violent shift in the young nobleman's tone. But before any of them could react, Rylan moved with terrifying, unnatural speed.
He lunged forward, stomping down hard on the shaft of the fauchard pointed at his chest. Using it like a springboard, he vaulted into the air with the weightlessness of a dancer. In mid-air, he drew his rapier and drove it downward with pinpoint accuracy. The steel sank straight into the first guard's throat like a hot needle sliding through butter. The tip punched clean out through the back of the man's neck, and the guard collapsed instantly, like a dropped sack of grain.
Landing on the fallen soldier's shoulder, Rylan used it to launch himself sideways, crashing like a meteor into the second guard standing at Lorian's other side. His blade buried itself deep into the guard's left eye socket. When he wrenched the rapier back out, a grisly red eyeball was left dangling grotesquely from the tip.
Rylan flicked his wrist, shaking the gore straight into the face of a third guard who lunged to intercept him. Blinded for a split second by the blood, the guard hesitated- and that was all the opening Rylan needed to drive the cruel tip of his blade straight through the man's Adam's apple.
If this were the old Lorian, he would have frozen in absolute terror at the sheer brutality of the slaughter. But months of surviving this ruthless world had forged iron into his nerves. He wasn't a trained warrior, but he knew he had to move. With a burst of pure adrenaline, Lorian shoved hard against Rylan with both hands, trying to create distance, and stumbled backward toward the remaining guards.
As he moved, a sharp, searing agony lanced through his left foot just above the ankle. Lorian tripped hard, slamming face-first onto the cold marble floor and instantly bloodying his nose.
He scrambled around, gasping in pain, only to realize Rylan no longer held his rapier. It was gone from his hand, having been thrown like a heavy javelin straight through Lorian's boot.
Two fresh Throne Guards rushed from opposite sides to tackle Rylan, but the traitor moved like lightning, whipping two small daggers from his belt and hurling them with deadly precision into the throats of both charging soldiers. The blades didn't sink deep, but they didn't need to- they were coated in a fast-acting, heavy poison. Within seconds, both guards dropped heavily to their knees, clawing frantically at their necks as black blood bubbled from their lips.
Rylan snarled and leaped directly toward Lorian.
Before the blades could reach him, the surviving guards hauled Lorian backward out of harm's way. But Rylan's jump was cut short; as he flew through the air, the two poisoned guards- clinging to the last ragged threads of life- used their dying strength to lunge forward and lock their iron grip around Rylan's ankles, dragging him face-first onto the hard marble floor.
"Get up, you cowards!" Rylan roared, thrashing wildly as he tried to kick his legs free from the death grip of the dying soldiers.
"My Lord, we have to get you out of here now!" a guard shouted, lifting Lorian up by his arms.
"Are you blind? Stop running!" Lorian snapped, gritting his teeth against the searing pain in his foot, "His rapier is stuck in my boot, so he has no primary weapon. And our brave men are holding him down with their final breath. This is our only chance to take him before he breaks free!"
The sheer logic of the command cut through the panic. On the senior guard's roar, every remaining Throne Guard in the room threw themselves onto Rylan in a crushing dogpile, pinning him to the floor.
Rylan thrashed with feral fury, pulling a second set of small blades from his belt and stabbing blindly into the limbs of the men holding him. But the guards didn't flinch. Weight piled on top of weight until Rylan's movements slowed, his weapons clattering against the stone as he was thoroughly subdued.
Lorian limped forward, leaning heavily against a guard's shoulder. The bloody hilt of the rapier still protruded awkwardly from his left foot; he dared not pull it out for fear of bleeding to death right there on the floor.
He looked down at the trapped traitor, "So, Rylan Farthom- brilliant student of the Solarian Grand Academy, and son of the High Seneschal himself- what on earth made a man like you sell out to a pirate queen? Were you old friends with my dear cousin Lyssian?"
At the question, Rylan threw his head back and let out a harsh, barking laugh, as if Lorian had just told the funniest joke in the world.
A nearby guard slammed the heavy butt of a spear against Rylan's jaw, cutting the laughter short and sending a spray of red blood across the stone. Rylan spat out a tooth, grinning through bloody lips as his chest heaved.
"You still don't get it, do you?" Rylan wheezed, his eyes were burning with absolute contempt, "Do you honestly think I care about that brainless, crying baby of a cousin of yours? Or those filthy, classless pirates?" He spat blood onto the floor, "I am operating on a level you pathetic, hell-kissed pretenders could never even begin to comprehend."