Warwielder - Book 1 of The Evernoth Odyssey

Prologue

The armoured guards dragged the twelve year old boy into the throne room by the crooks of his elbows. His body lay limp between them with blood dripping from his face and bare feet, leaving a red trail on the marble floor behind them. Was the blood his? Or his mother's? He didn't know. And he didn't think he cared. Not anymore.

Despite the late hour at night, the throne room seemed brighter than it should have been. The boy summoned the effort to look up and see a painfully elegant room boasting a vast space framed by two rows of structural columns. Sculptures, paintings and other historical artworks decorated the interior, showcasing the wealth and power of his brother's empire. A gallery the boy would have enjoyed were it not for the pungent odour filling his nose. A smell he would one day recognize as the smell of death. Was it the room? Or was it just him? Or maybe it was the smell of this particular night? It wouldn't surprise him considering what he had just been through. The sounds of screaming still echoed in his ears. Or maybe it was from the city? These questions only proved to be fleeting thoughts as his broken body reminded him of worse problems.

Half conscious in the arms of the guards, he was not prepared to be dropped to the ground before the throne at the end of the long corridor. The boy collapsed into a mass on the hard floor. He struggled to gaze up at a figure sitting in his brother's seat but his vision was hazy from the beatings he received prior to being escorted here.

The figure shot up from the throne, "Who did this?" The boy recognized the voice: his uncle, Sauloram. He could hear the guards shifting uncomfortably in silence.

"I said WHO DID THIS?!"

One of the guards braved to answer the order, "Th-the men can be a little rough sometimes-"

"A little rough? I specifically told all of you not to lay a hand on the boy. Very. Simple. Instructions."

The boy could almost see the guard's heads hang in shame. His uncle's footsteps approached his legless form and bent down to inspect the boy closely. Soft fingers lifted his chin allowing a clearer vision of his attentive uncle. What he saw surprised him. The boy was accustomed to seeing his uncle in conservative grey or black attire denoting his position as one of the Emperor's key advisers. Instead he saw a man bedecked in an extravagant robe embroidered with intricate floral patterns mixed with blade imagery. A robe fit for a Paravellan Emperor. His brother's robes.

"They didn't hurt you too much, did they boy?" his uncle cooed before turning to the guards. "I want them punished."

"Yes, my-"

Suddenly, from their clanky and rustling armour, the boy could hear more guards entering the throne room. After his uncle released his face to stand up and receive them, the boy shifted his body to better observe and glean from the approaching newcomers about what was happening this night and why. As the guards lumbered down the throne room, the boy noticed one of them carrying a heavy object over his shoulder but the boy couldn't discern what it was. The guards travelled the length of the room until they stopped before his uncle who puffed his chest out reminding the boy of an imperious bird flaunting his beauty. They bowed their heads, hands to chest, to the well-robed man paying no mind to the crumpled child that obstructed any further step forward.

"What took you so long?" his uncle demanded.

A man the boy recognized as the Captain of the Guard answered his uncle, "Sorry, my lord. He-"

"Your Majesty."

"What?"

"You will address me as 'Your Imperial Majesty'."

The guards shifted uneasily before nodding in compliance, "Yes, your Imperial Majesty."

His uncle nodded satisfied, "What took you so long? I sent twelve of you."