ROTTEN to the Core [EN]

Chapter 5 - Trading With The Devil

"Once upon a time... there was a kingdom called Valtara. There, from one night to the next, an enchanting princess disappeared. Her loss broke the king's heart, and he died from pain. Rumor has it that a witch or evil sorceress kidnapped the poor girl. Since then, she has been resting in a glass coffin, deep in the dark woods... waiting for princes and knights, noblemen and brave warriors to rescue her from her sleep..." the prince recited the ridiculous story on his steed while the hooves rustled the numerous colorful leaves. Silver and golden threads shone on his cloak and noble clothes despite the feeble autumn sun, flashing now and then when the play of light cast small spots on them.

"But sire, no one who ever went out into the forest to look for her ever returned... whether soldiers of the royal couple or brave knights..." stammered a more petite man, who nervously kept turning his eyes to the right and left.

Now, the prince let out a dark laugh that made his chest quiver before turning his gaze to his servant sideways. The guy had always been easily intimidated, but he was... quite helpful. Most of the time, anyway.

"So they say." Leander acknowledged the words instead of taking away his fear, "But wouldn't it be incredibly heroic if I found her, freed her from her condition, and brought her back to her grieving stepmother?"

The pitiful servant swallowed hard, for he saw the sinister glare in his master's ice-blue eyes.

"Yes, Sire...very heroic," he acknowledged hoarsely, more whimpering than genuinely taken by the idea.

As they reached the stone chasms to the mountain's base, where the forest was now slowly clearing, the fool slid even more nervously on the back of his steed.

"Sire, I don't have a good feeling about this," muttered the little man with the thinning brown hair, wiping his sweaty brow.

"Because we're being watched," Prince Leander stated dryly, studiously ignoring his servant's eyes that suddenly widened in fear.

"Make yourselves known! I know you are following us! I'm here to negotiate!" he shouted as if throwing a tempting bone to a wild dog. Leander's voice hit the rock walls and rigid trees. The halls of his echo climbed like a lizard over a gray stone and fluttered into the treetops.

When the sharp hissing shot close to him, it surprised the stallion more than its rider. The projectile narrowly missed him and bored its tip into the earth beside his horse's hooves. The surprised animal rebelled, reared up, and let out a shrill whinny. Startled, his servant also widened his eyes, and panic rose in his foolish limbs.

Leander, however, harshly grabbed the reins and made the animal stop. Nervously, it trod water, but Leander wasn't fazed by it.

"Quite brave for a creeper of the crown to venture here," a voice sounded from somewhere in the undergrowth.

"We should just finish him off like everyone before him," added another; then, there was a rustling in one of the bushes, and a man emerged. He had dirty, unwashed hair under a hood, his face smeared with dirt, and a crossbow at the ready.

"Do you know how many fine gentlemen we've taken out before you?" it asked from another direction. A dark, laughing sound before another stepped out of the shadows. Within moments, they were surrounded, and Frederik beside him emitted a tortured, almost pitiful squeaking sound like a mouse under the oppressive paw of a cat.

"Oh, I heard about that," he returned, his voice polished and smooth as velvet. Dark, black velvet. Leander's lips did not twist in fear, however. Whether it was intemperate hubris, courage, or arrogance was hard to say. "But they certainly couldn't make you as tempting an offer as I can."

"And what would that be?" the tart voice rose above the others. It was full-throated and firm as stone as the apparent leader pushed his way out of the shadows. His figure was fearsome with broad shoulders and the stripped pelt of a bear over his shoulder, a bushy, thick beard, and a scowl.

Prince Leander's grin widened, but no hint of warmth was visible. "We'll clear out the queen together...and once I'm king, I'll reward you as richly as the treasuries allow." His gaze settled on the leader of the gang, who had killed numerous princes and knights, after all, with the dark, compelling promise. Backstabbing, shady indeed... but he didn't care. "I appoint you captain of my guard," then his gaze slid over the others, " and you get land, title, wealth..."

It was a dirty offer... but he was neither a noble prince nor a heroic savior. When the leader growled, and the guys exchanged glances, he knew he had won. The hungry dogs had long since taken the bait, and he could see their looks veiled by greed. Should it suit him... he always needed someone for the dirty work or sacrificial lambs for the slaughter.

"And what is the price for this trade?" the leader dared to ask.

Ah... one who was more intelligent than the rest. Leander tilted his head to the side, and icy eyes slid over one by one. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... Perfect. Seven, the magic number... fate meant well for him.

"The princess..." he replied, and then his gaze lingered on the leader before clicking his tongue. "And the heart blood of one of your men."