The Prince of Blood (boyxboy)

6. Protect and Destroy

Sparklieyr, the capital city of Parisora, had a section buried by poverty and overrun by crime, as does all major cities. In the west side of Sparklieyr, there was a stone cold orphanage run by nuns, with old dusty stained glass windows that pictured stories of the old religion. The children are all young and ran around in thin tattered second handed clothing donated from hell knows where. The orphanage it self sits tall amidst the chaos of multiple bars and nightclubs, less than legal gambling dens, certainly banned brothels and other illegal activity along with a mob of beggars and pickpockets running back and forth on the streets.

Claude soaked in the sight of the humanly normal chaos with an expressionless face. His black thick soled combat boot chomped over the trashy streets as he strides towards the orphanage. He was wearing a plain black trench coat and a thin black scarf that covered up half of his face. His dark eyes scanned the streets, analysing the movements of those around him, as if looking for signs of possible danger. It was more of a habit that he gotten into.

A middle aged sister greeted him at the gates of the orphanage and led him into an office where a young boy, no older than three or four, was already waiting. He wore a dirty white top, a sweater with too many holes to count and faded jeans.

"Mr Edward Tudor, a pleasure to meet you," the elderly sister sitting behind the desk stood up and greeted Claude. She was the director of the orphanage and it was apparent from her stern solemn look that she clearly did not like children who had "fun".

"Pleasure is mine, Sister Peace," Claude returned the greeting.

Sister Peace looked down at the paperwork before her, "it says here that you are young Clay Whistler's uncle?"

"His mother's side," Claude answered coldly.

Sister Peace frowned looking from the young man to the young boy. "I do see the resemblance though, dark brown hair, black eyes and a massive forehead, though I was told the boy's mother ran off with a lover."

Claude mere shrugged. "Estranged family, I'm only doing her this favour because she's dead."

Sister Peace looked surprised. "My condolences," she muttered as she placed a piece of paper in front of him, "just to double check that your name is Edward Tudor and you are a private security detail for the royal family and Clay Whistler is your nephew. If all the personal details are correct, please sign here."

Claude scanned through the document, not a word of it was actually true, but it did not matter here as long as it all appeared passable. He took the pen Sister Peace offered him and signed without a second thought.

"I should warn you," Sister Peace said as he was signing, "Whistler's a handful."

Claude smirked. "Must be in our blood." He picked up Clay who had not said a single word during this entire time. On the young boy's exposed pale wrists, he noticed a dark coloured fresh bruise. Claude sighed and hugged the young boy tightly, whispering into his ears. "It's ok now, I'll protect you."

*

Ace sat by his massive bay window with his knees up to his chest, it's been three weeks since he last saw the alcoholic mysterious wanderer known as Claude. He could not help seeing Claude's face in his mind over and over again, it just refused to go away. He sighed, he felt pathetic feeling pain for a man who gave him pointers on how to fight a war and drank his entire wine collection empty, but inside it hurt like hell knowing that he really cared about someone who would never feel that way towards him. He was in love with Claude.

His head of security Major Nyal Sachley, who doubled as Major of Defence during the war on the Glisten Fort front, came in with a concerned expression on his face. "Your Highness, your evaluation for a new personal guard?"