All is Fair in War and Dragon Scales (UNREVISED)

A Knight in Shining Armor

The heirloom was kept around Finley's shoulders as they all walk down the hallway, towards a backdoor that's being heavily guarded.

The four men that stand to attention bow deeply without even having to look to see who approached them. King Oliver stops a good ways away from them, smiling to himself even though he doesn't truly know whether he's being respected or not.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. My grandson is here to greet his military he will be in command of very soon."

Finley watches with a frown as the king's mouth twitches evilly.

"Open the doors, let him have a grand welcome."

The blonde's heart jumps in excitement. He's not stupid, he knows what that means and he's been dying to get some blood on his hands. It took too much energy to keep his god from attacking his poor personal servant. He's been twitching, body aching for some kind of release.

The guards straighten up, turning their dark eyes to the prince. The heirloom on his head does succeed in intimidating them, but the guards still slowly grin before two of them slowly open the doors.

Finley hesitates, head tilting before he slowly turns his head to look at the large backyard that's barren and dead. There's only grass, that has long since died, shriveled up and curling. There's nothing else but a long fence that traps the hundreds of soldiers inside the barrier. The fence is barbed, and magic has been casted to ensure their safety...

Or to keep them from escaping.

The hundreds of men and women alike are sparring with one another, and very dangerously. A good quarter of the grass is getting soaked in blood, but none of the soldiers back down. Rage and contempt, scorn and hatred permeate in the air like a thick  smog. Finley's natural abilities immediately begin to feed on it, hatred and rage growing inside himself as well and he can do nothing to stop it.

It's as if the soldiers didn't give a damn about what might happen to themselves or their partners. As long as they won.

What disgraceful coaching.

Finley does not want to fight along side these people. These soldiers will obviously go into battle without regret or any fear. None of them have anything to live for. They won't protect each other, what makes anyone think they'll protect their king?

But when the doors open, everyone stops. The clangs and strikes from swords suddenly gets drowned out by complete silence. Hundreds of twitching heads that are riddled with black breathing tentacles all turn to look at who's there.

Finley stands on top of the stairs, moving to stand outside where the wind makes the raven's feathers around his body sway ominously.

King Oliver stands behind him, still inside the castle with the protection of the four guards who haven't moved. Finley's parents stare at their son unblinkingly, the five girls still huddled together like a bunch of frightened chicken.

Oliver's grin extends. "Good afternoon, my good people! This is my grandson, the next king of Black Ridge. I'm sure that his return to his rightful home has all of you very excited."

Nobody moves, but the twitches get increasingly more noticeable.

"Please, give him a wholesome greeting for your king."

There are a few seconds when still, nobody moves. Finley stands completely frozen, but he lets a single finger turn black with rot, his senses heightening and he's ready for that one brave solider who comes at him from the side.

The poor man doesn't even have time to swing his sword before Finley raises a hand and twirls it, strong black magic instantly cracking the soldier neck in a violent 180 degree twist.