Your eyes open, just a little bit. You still feel knocked out and weak. You feel two arms pulling your hands and dragging you down a staircase.
You manage to get a glimpse of the men. Dullaccan soldiers. You try talking, but your mind is almost dead.
You pass out again.
"Aah!", he screams. You wield blade and strike at his armour. He blocks you. You try again and again, but this knight is strong and courageous. No matter how much you wield you sword and try to hit him, he always blocks. He bashes at your sword and knocks it out of your hand. Then delivers a mighty kick that sends you whirling through the air and then THUD! You crash back on the ground. You sword is not too far from you. You manage to stand up again, grab it and charge as fast as you possibly can. He also begins charging at you. Both of you run fast and then jump into the air, aiming to strike the other. You do your best to land a hit, but overwhelmed, you fail and the mysterious knight manages to drives his sword right through your chest. You fall down on your face-- dead.
You wake up with a start. Your panting and sweating, both out of fear and heat. As soon as you realise that it was only but a dream, you begin calming yourself down. That is when you realise that you are somewhere else. You remember Judas stabbing you in your back, both metaphorically and literally.
Now where are you? You get up and observe your surroundings. An almost completely dark room with but two lanterns at the very top and just one barred-window. The place smells like blood and dirt in one, foul armpits and even filth. You are barred up in there. It must be a dungeon.
"He has awoken", an unfamiliar tone says.
You turn to see who spoke to you. Behind you, on a wooden bench, two men that you have never seen before. They both look bruised up and hungry. Their eyes look sad and doubtful.
"Who are you?", you question them.
"Samorra", one says.
"Aldred", the second says after.
"And you?", Aldred states, seeminly not recognising you. But how could he? You're not wearing any fancy, deluxe robe or boots, and your bloody, sore face and rag-tag attire make you seem anything but a lord.
"You are the lord Alexander? Are you not?", the second identifies you.
"Yes", you answer him.
"A lord?! Bah!", Samorra, the first, refuses.
"If he was a lord, then why is he here?"
"Should he not be in a stylish castle, Trying on palatial coats and belts? Or throwing lavish feasts of which he never invites his subjects to?", the first proceeds to contrast.
You lean back on the cold wall, feeling weak and exhausted and your muscles pressured and tightened.
"If he is a lord, then let him command these soldiers to both free himself and us."
"But I am a lord", you tell him, softly, not due to tone but out of frailty.
"I am lord Alexander of the house of de la Crost. Son and heir of lord Jorgio, the lamented", you introduce.
You pull out a pendant from under your shirt, with the emblem of the black raven on it. One look and they can tell it's genuine. Not bogus.
Aldred accepts you, but Samorra still looks doubtful.
"Then why are you in here?", he asks you, wanting to know.
"Lord Daedalus has killed all the lords of the west and for some reason, decided on having me imprisoned here. I do not know if my friend is alive or dead. The last I saw him, he was knocked out and unconscious", you tell them, beginning to feel cold and lonely.
YOU ARE READING
The Black Raven: plot of the three swords
Historical FictionLord Alexander has just come to the throne of Portswater, a province in the west known for aurens in times of trade, but steel in times of war. He thinks that being a lord isn't too complex, but what he doesn't know is that there are those cunning...
