Of Kings and Pawns

Chapter 16 - Tragedy at Snowreach

The crisp, biting wind howled through the towering peaks of Snowreach as King Karl Osteryk stood atop the spire, his mind heavy with dread. The Great Council was just a day away, but his thoughts were consumed by the growing menace of Otto Eigermann, looming like a dark cloud just north of his lands. Snowreach was becoming a battlefield of its own, though no swords had clashed here yet. His people, once loyal and steadfast, had begun flocking to Otto’s cause, whipped into a frenzy by fear and anger.

Yesterday, a mob had stormed the streets, tearing through Elvish homes, lynching the innocent. They blamed the Elvish for the central kingdoms' downfall, for the humiliation they had suffered after the war. The streets were awash with blood, and the chaos was only growing. It wasn’t just the common folk either... his bannermen, men sworn to protect Snowreach, had joined the slaughter. And at the heart of this madness stood Max, Karl’s younger brother, who had become Otto’s staunchest supporter and the leader of his household guards.

Karl’s hand tightened on the reins of his griffin, ready to take flight. He needed to speak to Otto, to talk sense into him before the looming war became inevitable. He couldn’t bear the thought of a ruler motivated only by vengeance and paranoia. But just as he was about to leap into the saddle, the door to the spire creaked open behind him.

Max stepped out, his armor gleaming under the dimming sunlight. His face was tense, his eyes sharp. "Where are you going, brother?" Max asked, his voice firm.

Karl didn’t turn around. "I’m off to handle something."

Max took a step closer. "Where exactly?"

Karl turned slowly, meeting his brother’s gaze. The tension between them was palpable. "I’m going to stop you from supporting a tyrant. Otto will lead us into endless war, Max. Can’t you see that?"

Max’s expression hardened. "He’s the only one who understands our suffering. He’s the only one who will give the central kingdoms the justice they deserve after the shame we’ve endured. You should be standing with him, Karl. You raised him. You loved him like your own son."

Karl’s heart ached at the words, but he shook his head. "If justice demands the blood of the innocent, Max, then it isn’t justice anymore. It’s vengeance. Nothing more."

Max’s hand wavered, hovering dangerously above the hilt of his sword. Karl’s eyes flicked to it, his instincts telling him what was coming. Before Max could act, Karl leapt into the saddle of his griffin. Max shouted and charged, his sword drawn, but Karl was already in the air, his griffin launching into the sky.

The wind howled around him as he soared over the mountains, his heart racing. The betrayal of his own brother weighed on him like a stone, but he couldn’t dwell on it now. His mind was set on Otto. If he could reach him, maybe, just maybe, he could stop this madness before it spiraled further out of control.

But as Karl flew through the mountain passes, he spotted something in the distance... a shadow moving swiftly through the sky. He squinted against the glare of the setting sun. It was a griffin, racing toward him with alarming speed.

Suddenly, an arrow whistled through the air, striking Karl in the shoulder. Pain seared through him as he jerked in his saddle, barely keeping his grip on the reins. His griffin screeched, and Karl struggled to regain control. The rider was closing in fast, and then Karl saw him... Otto Eigermann.

The boy he had raised, the boy he had loved, was now his enemy.

Instead of fleeing, Karl set his jaw. He would face Otto now, in the skies, where the air was thin, and only the strongest survived. With one hand clutching his sword and the other gripping the reins tightly, he turned his griffin toward Otto, ready for the clash.

Their griffins collided in midair, talons slashing, wings beating furiously as the two men fought for dominance. Karl swung his sword, but Otto was quick, his movements fluid and precise. He evaded each strike, countering with swift blows of his own, forcing Karl to stay on the defensive.

The battle raged on, their griffins locked in a deadly dance, circling and diving, trying to gain the upper hand. Karl’s vision blurred with the pain from his wound, but he pressed on, determined not to let Otto win.

With sheer will, Karl forced his griffin higher and higher into the sky, hoping to outmaneuver Otto. He flew above the clouds, the air growing colder, thinner, but Otto followed, his determination matching Karl’s.

Karl turned and dived, sword raised, aiming for a decisive blow. As he hurtled toward Otto, memories flooded his mind... memories of the boy he had raised, of the stories he had told him before bed, of the mornings spent training together in the courtyard. He remembered the day Otto had given him the saddle he now rode, a gift for his birthday. It was a simple gift, but one filled with love and respect.

Tears blurred his vision.

But Otto, with a calmness that chilled Karl to the bone, drifted his griffin to the side. His sword flashed in the sunlight, and Karl felt the blade slash through the neck of his griffin. The beast let out a horrible scream, its body convulsing as it lost its balance. The world seemed to slow as Karl felt the ground pull him downward.

As they plummeted from the sky, the wind roaring in his ears, Karl’s mind raced. He saw Otto above him, his figure growing smaller and smaller as the distance between them widened. The snow-capped mountains below rushed up to meet him, and in those final moments, Karl felt a strange sense of peace.

His body shattered against the rocky slopes of the mountain, his crown tumbling away from him, lost in the snow.

And with that, King Karl Osteryk of Snowreach became the first casualty in the game of power.