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Jerial woke up from his bed with a grin. Col had shown them to probably the worst rooms in all of the castle. Desperately cramped. Jerial hopped on his feet. He made his way to the curtained window. He pushed the curtains aside to glance outside. The sky had been darkened by clouds. Rain is still pouring. This had been home. He looked at his reflection in the window. It had been purple due to the light that emanated from his eyes. He always felt strange looking at this body. It had reminded him of when he was younger but something was different, that stupid woman did not fail to leave her mark. Jerial moved from the window and towards the door. He swung the door open and walked through. The corridor was slightly lit by torches that hung on the walls. He quickly slipped into the room that was next to the one he slept in. In the room sleeping softly was the one they called Florian. A stupid boy, one who did not deserve to live if he was being honest. He had always wondered why his son kept a fool like him around, especially when their relationship had been frayed. Jerial was not here to kill him; however, he was here for something of great importance. Lying next to the bed, still sheathed, had been the Blade of Heinzidal. An artefact that he had been looking for for years and one that he had reluctantly been forced to leave behind when he had raided Versus. He already had a few of Heinzidal's legendary arsenal, hidden deep within this castle. He had never used them, the blade was the one he had always truly wanted. Swordplay had been his favourite thing growing up, even going as far as becoming one of the greatest swordsmen to grace the land. He grabbed the sheathed blade and silently exited the room. He immediately unsheathed the blade. He felt the blade tug slightly on his stria and stamina reserves. He thought back at how the stupid Florian kid could not regulate his reserves when he held the blade. He expected the blade to pull even more but his plan seemed to work. He had two stria reserves now, his own and from the Rixa amulet that hung from his chest. Jerial walked through the corridor twirling the blade in his left hand as he walked. He knew this castle like the back of his hand. He finally made his way to the much larger part of the castle. Two soldiers approached him.
"Lord Alaric, I am afraid we have orders for you to remain in your room." The soldier was barely finished when his throat was carefully slit. The soldier dropped lifeless onto the floor. The other soldier was about to pull out his sword when the crimson blade was at his throat. Purple eyes met brown terrified eyes.
"I am not Alaric. I am Great Lord Jerial and I have returned to take back what was once mine. Will you join me, soldier?" Jerial kept his voice low. The soldier shook his head. Jerial wasted no time dispatching him as well. This continued as panic ran through the castle. Nobody seemed keen to join his side, so he had to punish them. Here he stood beyond a few corpses. Their blood painted the floor crimson. He heard the sound of footsteps behind him and he turned around. Standing behind him crouched with two daggers firmly in her hands was the woman his son called Savia. She kept her gaze on him.
"Who are you?" She asked, her tone tainted with anger.
Jerial smiled at her. "What do you mean? I am Alaric."
"Liar."
Jerial gave her a hearty laugh. "You are a smart one. I see why he took such a liking towards you. What was it that gave me away, other than my eyes?"
"Your aura." Savia's knuckles whitened around the hilt of her daggers.
"My aura? What in Heinzidal's name are you talking about?" Jerial asked.
"You are threatening, he is comforting."
Jerial gave another laugh. "I see, that was always a part I could never beat out of him. His mother's fault, you see, taught him compassion. Unnecessary things really." "But you are right, my name is Jerial, that stupid fool's father."
He saw Savia's eyebrows tilt upwards.
"Dead?"
Jerial shook his head. "I never died, I lived within him this entire time. I just decided to take control."
"Give him back!"
Jerial's laugh was cut short as spikes made of hardened blood came directly towards him. He poured more stria into the crimson blade and swung it casually through the air. The corridor suddenly became windy as a gust of wind pulsed from his blade. The gust tore through the blood spikes sending specks of crimson dust through the air. The gust stopped before Savia. He noticed Savia was about to dash at him, he quickly chanted a basic cast. The stone floor moved up and covered Savia's legs keeping her rooted in place. Savia tried to break out by stabbing it with her daggers. He cast again this time the stone crossed her hands successfully petrifying them. Savia kept struggling. He knew it was fruitless. He walked up to her, pulled her hood down and grabbed her hair. Forcing her to look up at him.
"You are not like the others back there, you have the talent to be strong. My foolish son sees it as well. Join me and I can teach you how to become strong."
She spat at him. He slapped her with the back of his hand. Harder than he meant to because it had drawn blood from her nose.
"You know he can see, hear, feel everything I do while I control his body. He is stuck helplessly watching me slaughter all these men. Do not make him watch as I kill you and his siblings slowly while I laugh away."
"I will kill you!"
"Kill me? If I die he dies. Be careful what you wish for." With those words, he let go of her hair and continued further into the castle.
He was then met with a small group of armoured soldiers who were led by a familiar man.
"Second commander Col Gregory, what pleasant surprises are you bringing me?" Jerial asked.
The commander was glaring, his hand firmly on his broadsword.
"What is the meaning of this Lord Alaric? We bring you to your home and you massacre your people?" If his voice was thinly veiled with dissatisfaction earlier it is now full-blown rage that escaped his lips.
"You have got it wrong, commander, I am not Alaric. He is gone, I am Great Lord Jerial Burchard. I am sure you are familiar with the name?"
"You must have gone insane!"
Jerial rolled his eyes. He poured more stria into his blade and swung it toward the left side of Col. The wind tore through the armoured soldiers that stood on the left side of Col. There was no time to scream as their bodies were sliced in two by the gust of wind. Col could only stare wide-eyed as half of his squad was dispatched with ease.
"You see the power I wield. No one in this city can come close to my power. Why not join me and I can take my place as the rightful ruler. With you at my side."
Jerial saw how Col's hands shook.
"Stand down men!" Col ordered. Some men were reluctant to put their swords away.
"Now! Failure to do so will be considered treason and you will be executed!" He ordered. The men listened.
Jerial walked up to the commander and placed a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch that followed. Col had been a head shorter than him, he leaned into the commander's ear.
"You will make a fine right-hand man. First Commander Gregory." He whispered.
The commander smiled.
"Yes, Great Lord Jerial. We are at your service!" Col saluted him. Jerial turned to the halved group of soldiers.
"I have a task for all of you. Gather the corpses and take their heads off. Any soldier who does not show allegiance to me, Great Lord Jerial, is to be shown the heads of their comrades. If they are still not compliant, you have to take their life. If you fail to do so, all your heads will be added to the pile."
The soldiers stared at him wide-eyed.
"You heard the Great Lord, now get to work!" Col ordered alongside him.
The soldiers were frozen at first but with a casual wave of his crimson blade, the soldiers got to work.
"Commander Gregory, there is a young woman a few hallways back. I want you to escort her to the dungeon. You might have some trouble getting rid of my cast but I am sure a talented caster like you can disenchant it easily."
"Yes, sir. And what of Alaric's friends?"
"Leave them, they are harmless." Col began to walk away. "Oh, and another thing, you should be careful about the way you speak about my son. He may be foolish but he still outranks you."
Col nodded. "Yes, sir."
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