The ocean blue cloak bellows in the wind as the gilded lining of his sky blue pauldrons shine with sunlight. Corvex Windhelm stands on scattered rocks that had fallen off nearby debris onto the stone balcony floor. His cloak, ripped and torn in some places. His pauldrons, scuffed and dented. The crimson bastard sword that was in his hand, now slipped and crashed into the ground. His golden hair flowing around his narrow blue eyes and dark tan complexion, staring out as soldiers equipped with steel armor, begin to rush out of the castle gates which stand beneath the human Prince’s heel. The Heir of Belden falls to his knees, his roar echoes out of his throat and into the blue atmosphere above. He believes he doesn’t deserve the hand he was dealt. But, poor Corvex knows too well that it’s in the past and he will never be able to earn the throne as according to the ritualistic tradition of his country; nor will he ever be able to bring back his father.
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*Earlier That Day*
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Corvex and his father, Marlowe Windhelm; The King of Belden, stand toe-to-toe in a coliseum filled to the brim with the residents of the country. The crowd roars around them.
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“Show me what you got, Corvex. You’re the star of this festival you know.” Marlowe exclaims cockily.
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Corvex runs and slashes forward with a silver and black short sword accompanied by a blue shield. “I’ll beat you this year, father!”
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Marlowe side-steps out of the way of the first slash by Corvex. The crowd gasps. Marlowe raises his crimson bastard sword and shoves his opponent’s blade away. The King of Belden spins around as his blue cloak flows elegantly behind him. “Your move.”
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Corvex jumps in the air, slamming the tip of his blade into the ground. After flipping over the sword like a pole vault, the young prince slashes downward into his father. Once again, this assault is blocked by Marlowe.
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The King pushes his sword upward and checks his shoulder forward, sending his son flying backwards and into the sandy terrain of the battlefield. Corvex’s shield flies off and skips across the sand. The crowd gasps again, stunned by the show of skillful perfection. The young Prince pushes himself up onto his feet slowly, but once he is steady; his sword is jolted in front of him in a blocking stance. His right arm, fist clenched around his sword, trembles from the pressure of the ecstatic crowd. The Prince twists his left foot in the sand and pivots his weight onto it. Now that Corvex is standing and ready, Marlowe dashes forward. The crowd cheers, they watch intently as King Windhelm impacts Corvex with the broadside of the crimson blade. Corvex attempts to block the attack, their blades connecting, but Corvex is knocked down again. Upon crashing to the ground Corvex’s left pauldron smacks against a rock. Marlowe approaches him slowly, raising the charred and ancient bloodsword to his throat.
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“Maybe next year, you’ll be able to beat me and take the throne.” The old man says gently. “You still have work to do, and that’s okay. I was in your shoes once, my son. It took me years to defeat my father at the Tournament of the Crown.” Marlowe lowers his sword and reaches out his hand to help up his son.
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Corvex grabs his father’s hand and stands up. The crowd cheers as the prince accepts defeat this year. He looks hopeful, with a half smile across his face. His hair was drenched with sweat.
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The king grabs his son’s wrist and holds it in the air. The crowd thunderously erupts in sound. All the various sounds slowly come together to chant, “To-Be King, To-Be King, To-Be King!!”
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Marlowe turns to Corvex and releases him, stating; “You’ll be king, one day, son.” The king then turns to address the crowd. He grabs his own throat lightly as his fingertips glow a very faint green. His voice booms from his throat, “LET THE SIX-SUMMER FESTIVAL BEGIN! ENJOY YOURSELVES EVERYONE!” Corvex and Marlowe smile and wave at the crowd as they slowly walk across the arena, the crowd still erupting until they finally reach the rising metal gate door. The two turn and do a final bow and wave to the crowd. Corvex blows to the crowd while his eyes are focused on one woman dressed in blue. As the two slowly disappear into the corridor from the crowd’s gaze, the applause slowly fades as the crowd begins to gather their things and leave the stadium.
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“Was that kiss for the crowd, or someone in particular?” Marlowe asks softly as they walk through the corridor.
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“Both. I know that the audience loves me and I love them every year. And, it was for a girl. I have been seeing her every now and again the past several weeks. We like to hop the local taverns and inns for drinks. We visit a different one every week.” Corvex replies.
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“You make me more proud to be your father, than I am proud to be the king of this country. Let it be known.” Marlowe responds, placing his hand on Corvex’s back.
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As Marlowe and his heir approach the end of the corridor. The wooden exit door is opened by a dark-skinned human woman with short hair on top and shaved on the sides of her head. Marlowe speaks first; “Ah, Miss Lukholli. Nice to see you!”
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“The pleasure is all mine, my lords.” She lightly bows to the both of them before continuing. “I thought I’d accompany you back to your palace. The night is young. There are many events to get to. The Tournament of the Crown is only the opening ceremony to the Six-Summer Festival, you know?”
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Marlowe chuckles. “I know, Laika. This festival is my favorite time of year. It honors my great grandfather’s sacrifice to restore the cycle of the seasons after the six-year long summer. He was the only human capable of slaying a dragon. And we all are grateful for our lives and our homes today because of him.”
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Laika chuckles and pulls Marlowe along. “His legacy’s story never loses its magic being spoken by you, King Windhelm.”
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Marlowe responds softly, “The truth is, I am envious. I will never be remembered like him. My prime is long over.” He turns to Corvex before being led out of the arena by his noble bodyguard. “You taking the throne is long overdue my son. I know you will beat me next year.” The two leave and the door slams behind them. Leaving Corvex in a dark hallway.
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“Quite the show, I’m impressed.” An ominous voice states from the darkness as Corvex only can see two glowing yellow eyes.
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Corvex grunts, “Vyncint? What brings you to this side of Quinloch?”
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“To warn you. Kyoga has sent an assassin to kill two targets during the festival. Those being: Laika Lukholli, and your father, King Marlowe Windhelm.” The vampire informs the prince.
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Corvex starts a little, surprised. “I don’t believe you. What makes you think you can waltz into the Six-Summer Festival and make such heinous claims?”
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Vyncint replies slowly to make his words more clear, “I would not be here to warn you if I did not believe it to be true. Marie was the one who actually convinced me to try and help out, and this is the most I will be doing. Had she not been so concerned for you in particular, Corvex, I wouldn’t be here. Make your next few moves very wisely Prince, unless you plan on becoming King faster than expected. Don’t make this energy I put in to get out here go to waste. And certainly, protect the woman you cherish oh so dearly. Enjoy the ‘festivities’, Corvex Windhelm.” He walks away, his footsteps fading into the black void that surrounds Corvex.
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“Marie, like Marie Fuchs?” Corvex asks the darkness. “What does she have to do with this? Shouldn’t she be far outside of Quinloch by now?”
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“A Falcon told her.” Vyncint replies finally.
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“A Falcon?” Corvex asks himself quietly. He then opens the door his father just went through, and exits into a bustling festival with various vendors and aromas erupting in his face.
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Everything from various sweets and meat stands to clothing and weapon vendors. Thousands of citizens swarm the plaza as Corvex looks out down the street leading away from the arena. One in particular spots the prince. She’s blonde with green eyes, her two tone blue dress flows down around and behind her legs as she runs at him. “Corvex! You did so amazing!! We need to go drink to celebrate, if not for another year of your father’s rule; but for that sick move!!” She grabs him with a hug and the two kiss.
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“Thank you. You flatter me, Norma.” He replies, saddened.
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“There is always next year! That sword vault was truly amazing! Who taught you to do that?” She asks energetically.
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He smiles. “I taught myself it. I noticed it was possible by accident while I was helping out at the bank fire earlier this week. Come to think of it, they never caught the perp.” He abruptly stops. The air around him roared with the sounds of a busy crowd but the silence between him and Miss Dean was sharp and intense. “I have to go.” Corvex grabs her and kisses her cheek in return. “Don’t let any vampires suck that precious life out of you darling.” He sprints off and to the castle, shoving his way through the crowd. Guards notice and run after him, knowing there must be something to cause Corvex to act in such a way. Upon reaching the Palace of Wind-Cross. Corvex slams open the front door, halting the room full of chatter within the main chamber. Marlowe stands up and looks at his son from across the room.
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His voice loudly erupts, “What is the meaning of you barging in like this, Corvex? Why aren’t you down in the town enjoying the festivities?”
Frantic whispering begins to crescendo out of the crowd.
He begins to start, almost cutting off his father. “Father, there is an assassin out for you, hiding within the crowd.”
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The crowd gasps. Distressed chatter begins erupting loudly.
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Marlowe speaks, “Everybody. OUT!” The gathering quiets down and begins to take their drinks and leave the castle at the king’s command. “Corvex. I know your emotions are high from your loss today but please, no need to spread such rumors during the festival.” He laughs. “Why would you want to miss the festival anyway? Do you want a drink, my son?”
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“I should be asking how you can party and drink when the largest bank in our city was burned to the ground and the arsonist wasn’t caught! And now I’m being told you’re under threat by a credible source.” Corvex replies.
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The room is empty now, aside from Corvex and Marlowe
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“I believe you.” Marlowe responds. Corvex begins to slow down as he approaches his father’s throne.
Marlowe stomps towards Corvex. “This information better have a reliable source.”
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Corvex nods, “I wouldn’t be acting like this if I didn’t trust it. It was told to me by Vynci~..”
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Marlowe snaps,“Don’t you mutter any more of that name. I do not want to hear the vampiric king’s name in my chamber.” He sighs. “Then we really would be in trouble. Why would you ever trust him?”
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A shadow passes from behind one guard to another. Corvex notices, his eye following it intently. He shouts out. “Over there!! Father, look out!” As Corvex begins to look back at his father, he notices red slimy tendrils that have his father wrapped from the ankles, up to his wrists, and up to his neck and covering his mouth.
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The guards do not move. They stand still, like mannequins. The distressed prince charges towards his father. “Why are you all just standing there like that?! Your king is in peril! Attack her!” Corvex yells, but his message is received by only silence.
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Corvex, running down this long throne room to his father, having time to think while running; he thinks about how to defeat the assailant. As he begins to flip through thought and the urge to ignore his father to attack the assailant. Not only to prove himself to his father, but to stop the attack directly by acting first.
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“I said attack damnit!!” Corvex yells more. As he shouts and commands his team, the ground around his feet begins to spark in a sort of mint green color.
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“They won’t listen to you.” A sadistic feminine voice echoes out from what seems to be the walls. “Just like you won’t ever rule over them. You will be left abandoned and in pieces emotionally, Corvex! Just look at your father. With every pulse of my bloodtrails, he will be closer and closer to death.”
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The hooded figure jumps off one guard behind Marlowe and throws her daggers into the air above her, they stick into the ceiling and two more blood-trails appear between them and the back of her hands. Now that she is airborne, her trails visibly go from guard to guard until they reach Marlowe in the center where they rise up to her. The blood hardens and forms a giant axe in her hands. Roughly three-times the size of your ordinary giant battle axe. Out of her daggers that rest on her hips, shoot two long red tendrils of blood. They attach to the ground below. As the original trails of blood keep making the axe grow and grow, Corvex begins to dash towards her, running past his trapped father. Marlowe bites the tendril that is covering his mouth and spits it to the side. This gives him enough wiggle room to roll out of the blood vines. He grabs his sword and rushes up to his feet in a blocking stance. In one swift motion, the trails of blood rising from the surrounding crowd begin to fade off. Her daggers detach from the ceiling. She begins to plummet to the ground with a powerful wind up of the axe.
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Before she swings it down, she exclaims “This is where you die..!” As it swung down, it leaves a wet red trail behind it in the air. The axe slams against Marlowe’s sword, pushing his heels scraping back on the stone ground.
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“You’re faster than I expected.” She says, kicking down on her axe. Marlowe holds strong, the blades clashing and causing red sparks to fill the air around them.
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“This isn’t my first fight, Aeyarus. Your king will pay for what he has sent you to do.” Marlowe responds as Corvex runs in and does an upward slash at the hooded figure. As he does, she kicks the backend of the hilt of her axe, making it skim across the blade of Marlowe’s sword and hitting Corvex with the broadside of the axe. It knocks him back and away a few feet. The axe dissipates and the blood that made it up, now swirls around her. She backflips away and forms a javelin with her dagger as the tip. Marlowe lunges at her bringing his sword down to the ground, missing her and cracking the stone floor upon impact. The woman throws her javelin and it nails him right in the shoulder.
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“This isn’t mine either, human!!” The trail of blood from the knife extends to Jane’s hand and she pulls with all her might. “Get over here and bleed!” Marlowe is pulled to the attacker. With the tug, he loses grip of his sword and falls onto his knees. Corvex pulls himself onto his feet and tries to catch up with his father. But he watches as the hooded figure jumps in the air, stabbing him in the chest and pushing the both of them to the ground. She retracts her knife from a now still, Marlowe Windhelm.
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Corvex charges to his father’s body. It’s already too late, Marlowe Windhelm is dead.
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“You…. you monster.” Corvex says softly.
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“What was that, I’m sorry. I can’t hear you.” The assailant replies cockily. She places her hand to her ear and leans in Corvex’s direction with a huge smile across her face, yet her eyes remain cold and emotionless.
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His eyes begin to glow a very dark green as he raises to his feet. “You will PAY for the pain you have just caused not only me. But this entire damn country.” Corvex grabs his father’s sword, as he does; the sword begins to spark with a greenish color, and he charges at the woman responsible. He slashes twice at her, and she parries the two strikes back with her dual daggers and she tries to stab him. She misses and hits his cloak. She pulls back, slicing down his blue cape.
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“I hope you know, Corvex. It’s your turn now. What weapon shall I form from your father’s blood?” The woman says while Marlowe begins to drain of blood, streaming out the front of his chest and through a trail in the air and directly to the assailant.
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Corvex for the first time, steadies himself in his father’s fighting stance. He feels like it came too soon, that he isn’t worthy. He wasn’t going to let her know that he was weak at this moment, he couldn't let her at any cost. He speaks confidently, “I must do this, to protect my country. You have gone too far. You have ruined our festival. You have killed my father. You’re right, it is my turn.” Corvex runs up with the ground still cracking and glowing a soft green, and slams his sword into her, sending her flying into the back wall and ripping her cloak off. As she slams into the wall, she loses grip on her daggers and they scatter away from her. Corvex is able to make out the details of her outfit as she flips and recovers her stance. She is a medium height elf woman and is wearing a black bandanna, dark purple leather armor, a black scarf with a single gold streak, and thigh high boots. She has two more daggers stashed within her boots, which she draws.
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“For the record. My name is Jane. Let it haunt you, Prince. Or should I say King now??!” She laughs intensely. Corvex charges forward, slamming his family’s sword into her body. She flies back more and her back slams against the wall once more. He takes two steps back and pivots onto his heel. A red flame begins to burst, then explodes with light on his blade.
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“Well, Jane. You brought this upon yourself!” He swings his ignited sword upward, lightly tearing a part of Jane’s scarf. She is sent upward and out of a large stained glass window. The glass cracks and splinters as her body impacts it. As she breaks through the window, the fire of Corvex’s blade begins to erupt as she is then surrounded by a cloud of broken glass reflecting the surrounding vibrant firelight. She falls to the balcony below. He sighs, “You walked into the hornet’s nest and killed the king. The fate you are owed now, is your own doing. And, I will be the hand of vengeance.” Corvex steps over the jagged stained glass sticking out of the lower window frame. The balcony has six slender pillars that protrude out of the ground. Four guard bodies are on the ground, and Jane is nowhere to be seen. “Dammit! She’s quick.” Corvex runs to the edge of the balcony, placing his hands on the ledge. He looks down at the festival, the crowd from the castle now mixed in with the bigger crowd. “Nation, your king… is dead.” A chorus of gasps and angry shouts erupt from the gathering of people below.
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Suddenly, Corvex hears the snapping of a rope. As he turns to face the origin of the sound when he’s met with the sight of Jane flying towards him, having shot herself with a slingshot of blood tendrils. As the tension is released, the two pillars fall and crumble down. She slashes Corvex, but her blade bounces off his pauldron. She jumps off his shoulder and lands a few feet away and places her hand to her ear. “Do you hear that, Corvex? My ‘doing’ as you said. It is in fact my symphony of pain!” Corvex pulls his sword back and charges forward. As he reaches Jane, he begins to swing. But, as he does; she jumps and lands her feet on the blade. She leaps again off it, as Corvex completes his swing and readies a block. She throws her daggers down at him, both are reflected by his guard. As he pulls the massive sword out of his view and lowers his guard, she is running to the ledge. She climbs up onto the ledge and crouches down, turning back to Corvex. “My mission is complete, but I’m sure that I will see you again. It is only natural that you would intend to hunt me down.” Jane leaps off the balcony and uses her blood tendril to zip to a building below.
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The ocean blue cloak bellows in the wind as the gilded lining of his sky blue pauldrons shine with sunlight. Corvex Windhelm stands on scattered rocks that had fallen off nearby debris onto the stone balcony floor. His cloak, ripped and torn in some places. His pauldrons, scuffed and dented. The crimson bastard sword that was in his hand, now slipped and crashed into the ground. His golden hair flowing around his narrow blue eyes and dark tan complexion, staring out as soldiers equipped with steel armor, begin to rush out of the castle gates and into the scattering and panicking crowd below. The Heir of Belden falls to his knees, his roar echoes out of his throat and into the blue atmosphere above. He believes he doesn’t deserve the hand he was dealt. But, poor Corvex knows too well that he must stop at nothing to hunt down the woman responsible for killing his father.
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