"How are you doing, kid?" I asked the bedraggled young man.

He peered back at me through the iron lattice of his jail door. Hungry eyes locked onto the tray of food in my hands and he took half a step forward before hesitating.

"You want it?" I asked, holding the tray towards the dedicated slot in the jail door. This was, if you listened to the usual tales, an unusually humane feature to be found in the dungeon of a Dark Lord.

But this realization had not yet struck my young guest. Instead his hunger steadied into resolve.

"Enchantress," he spat. "You won't trick me that easily."

"Two days," I said, and left him to ponder what that meant.

Two days later he accepted the tray of food without protest. I watched him eat it greedily, and then as if realizing what he'd done, he hurled the empty tray back at me.

It bounced off the jail door, and clattered harmlessly to the ground.

"What now?" he asked hoarsely. "What cruel fate have I harnessed myself to? Will you turn me into a horse to draw your carriage? Or a sheep to grow wool for your spinning needle?"

"A pig," I said before I could stop myself, "to fatten for a feast. No, don't look like that, I was joking. I won't turn you into anything you don't want to become."

He did not seem particularly reassured by this. "I've heard of men who willingly submitted to the magic of beautiful sorceresses."

"If you genuinely want to become a pig," I said, " then they really did do a number on you. What's your name?"

"What's yours?" he asked craftily, and I remembered the old sermons we'd been taught about the power that names were supposed to possess.

"Ladria," I said.

"Ladria, "he repeated, and then more shocked, "The Ladria?"

"Yes," I said. "The very same."

"But I remember you. I had just joined the monastery when the monks picked you as the Chosen One. You look..."

"Wiser?" I suggested.

"Older," he said, until my sigh reminded him that he was still talking to an evil enchantress and probable companion of the Dark Lord. "Wait, I didn't mean... but you were the Chosen One... they told us you were dead."

"Better older than dead," I observed.

This observation also failed to find agreement. "Not if you had to join the Dark Lord."

"Oh," I said breezily. "You mean Fred? He's not so bad when you get to know him."

"But he's an evil wizard!"'

"A very skilled engineer and scientist," I amended.

"But he kills people!"

"A highly successful disinformation campaign," I said. "Mostly propagated by the monks who raised us in that wretched cult of an orphanage. And who, I suppose, also told you that you were the new Chosen One?"

"I am here to defeat the Dark Lord!"

"To murder him, you mean?"

"Well...," he said, and trailed off.

"There is no magic," I said. "There is only sufficiently advanced technology. Technology that could help people and save lives."

"But the monks- "

"Would have a lot less influence over us if we didn't need them. "

He tried one last defence, one that he'd obviously been saving. "If you can't use magic to see the future, how did you know it would take me two days to accept the food you've been bringing?"

"Because," I said, "ten years ago I sat in your place in that very cell, and that's how long it took me. Now, would you like to see what we really do here?"

More stories at r/jd_rallage

Soulmage

The Witch of Warp and Weft left no bodies when she killed. Quivering from my hiding place behind the ruined central hut, I watched in silent, trembling horror as she methodically imploded every goblin in the village that tried to stand in her way, sending bullets of warped space like hunting hounds after the people who'd taken me in.

The tribe's elder snarled a wordless challenge and drew mischief from her soul, teleporting forwards in a blur of sparks, but the Witch scoffed contemptuously and flicked a hand, curving space in a twisted knot moments before Ragan's teleport finished. I'd never wanted to know what happened when you teleported into a spatial anomaly before, and as the gore and organs that had once been someone who'd cared for me splattered on the dirt, I wished I'd never found out.

"Did you really think that using teleportation against a witch of space was a good idea? Ugh, I knew goblins weren't sapient, but this level of idiocy is really something else." The Witch's eyes scanned the tribe; despite the fact that everyone left standing was either hiding or fleeing, she unerringly fired another round of six spells outwards in spiraling arcs. In my barely-developed soulsight, I saw six lives shatter like so much dropped porcelain. "Ah, well. Makes monster-hunting duty a little easier, I suppose. There's no point in hiding; I can see your souls." She turned to the right. Another four spells cast. Another four lives lost. She turned a little further—

And stared right at me.

She stopped, blinking in shock. A brave warrior—someone whose name I'd never known, and now never would—leapt at her, spear in hand, but his attack simply slid off the witch's back, space itself bending around her to protect her. Idly, she flicked a hand, and the warrior... ceased. I whimpered, frantically scrambling back as I reached for the magic in my soul.

"There, there. What's a human child like you doing in this hovel?" The witch stepped forwards, a disconcerting compassion in her eyes. "Did these monsters kidnap you?"

I tried to speak, to cast a spell, to run, but something deep inside me had just snapped, and I couldn't move, couldn't control the magic leaking from my soul. I shrank into myself, trying to hide from the world, to hide from the latest monster to rend my home to ash and rubble—

I froze as I felt a hand on my shoulder. "You have a strong soul," the witch whispered. "And nobody deserves to be left with these vermin. Why don't you come with me, hmm? I can teach you how to control that magic of yours."

Frantically, I shook my head. "Y-y-you killed them. You killed my family."

She frowned. "Your family? Child, these are goblins. Did you think they were people?"

"I—"

"We'll have to get that straightened out," she said, picking me up as if I weighed no more than a feather. "Along with any other things that these monsters might have done to you."

"They're not... they're..." I tried to assemble a coherent thought, but the terror and fear were overwhelming, and it was so much easier to just let the witch hold me, to stay quiet and do what she said. "I..."

"It's alright, child. I'll protect you from the monsters." Her voice curdled into something I think she thought was kindness. "Even the ones you think are people."

And against my numb, shocked protests, the Witch of Warp and Weft carried me out of the ruins of my home, leaving nothing behind but empty houses and bloodied soil.

A.N.

This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts! To catch up on the rest, check out this post, or browse r/bubblewriters for more!

At first i was spiteful, outright refusing his offer, no his order, to train me personally. He gave me no choice unfortunately, he massacred the party I had, trapping me in his castle for years.

I remember the first thing he did perfectly, test my sword skills, by fighting him. He mocked me with this, no matter what position I thought i had him in, he never moved how I wanted. I could never fully take advantage of his movements. His intelligence in battle far surpassed my own, his speed outshining mine and his strength… was inhumane. At that time I thought he was a god, that had surprisingly good banter. He would crack jokes while I fought him, as if it was a joke, looking back, I WAS a joke, my swordplay sloppy, my athleticism lacking, everything that could be wrong was.

He kept me trapped in the castle but not confined, I could roam free throughout the castle, which seemed like an oversight, at the time, no matter how I tried to escape, he stopped me, personally, always lecturing me about how slow I was.

Overtime I grew fond of him, joining in on the jokes, laughing with him, and learning from him. He started to take on a father figure, something I’ve never had before, I felt, wanted, loved, he seemed to appreciate me more than my hometown did. But there was the prophecy in the back of my head, I was destined to kill him, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get rid of the one person who truly appreciated me.

Yesterday, I had my final sparring session with him, at this point I refuse to spar with a sharp weapon, out of fear of losing my mentor. Once we begun, he sprung onto the offensive as usual, berating me with staff, forcing me to go on the defensive. I could only do so for so long, I would my footing and fall flat on my ass, losing once again. As he swung his staff downwards, I sidestepped, and swung down right at his wrist, in order to prevent injury he would have to release his weapon. Which he did, what was unexpected was that he could kick me in my chest at point blank range. While falling I was determined to at least bring him to the ground with me, so with a mighty swing, I did. I hit him. For the first time. And also the last. I hit him square in the temple, with enough force to kill him due to blunt force trauma. He fell to the floor.

Ecstatic to finally hit him, I laughed, screamed anything between. Before I realised what I did. He wasn’t breathing, I killed him. And so I completed the prophecy.

Ten years ago, as my power and skill grew, the old bastards and con artists decided it would be a fun idea to send a kid. Not a teenager, not an adult, not an old-ass man like themselves, but a child to kill me.

First of all, incredibly stupid and evil. This kid was eleven! They gave him a tad bit of training, a claymore (who the fuck gives a kid a claymore?! You don’t train with it until you’re strong enough!), chain mail, some companions his own age or older (again, super dumb. So dumb I want to strangle the old geezers with my bare hands), and some supplies. As soon as I heard this, I went off to meet them, there was no way, no goddamn way this was real! And then they attacked me. The archer girl lost all the arrows, dwarf guy they must have hired from a gang tried to hammer my knees in when all I had to do was bonk him on the helmet with the butt of my sword hard, and their healer ran for the hills, leaving the kid.

I rose my brow under my helm as he tried to attack me, dodging every strike. Points for tenacity, points taken away for lack of discipline and swordsmanship. He had to drag the damn blade to try to hit me. I grabbed his arm and took my helm off. I shook my head. “No,” I told him. “If we’re going to do this right, we’re doing this properly. And that sword is too big!” I jerked my head at him. I turned to the guards. “Gather them all, we’re investigating this.” I told them

“‘Greenvale’?! I’m from Oak Ridge, literally over you folks. Last I heard, the King was onto those old conmen.” I told him. He looked at me. “What? I had a life before being the Night Warden of the West.” I told him. “The council-“the kid said. “Are frauds. The chief one of them- Gard, right? He got busted 20 years ago for defrauding a nobleman and the King’s own mom to boot. His second in command was tossed in prison for being a literal thug-which explains the dwarf.” I rubbed my chin. The kid looked heartbroken, all he told- a lie. I sighed. “How about…” I paused. He told me his story….shit. His parents died of the plague, then he got taken to the orphanage the Council of Righteousness had. Why is it a lot of these good-sounding organizations tend to sound like goddamn fronts for something shitty?!

I sighed, rubbing my head. Well, time to see what I could do.

ten years later

The councilors were kneeling on a line in the Night Warden’s dungeon, their heads bowed and their arms tied with rope. “I told you Gard! I told you it wouldn’t work! Now we’re all dead!” One hissed. “Shut it, Rob- I have a-“ the men looked up at the entrance to see a tall blonde kid, 20 years old, with a sheathed short sword, chainmail, and looking very much like the kid they sent to kill the Night Warden, a man onto their scheme. “Don’t. Say. One. Word.” The kid snarled. “I know what you punks did,” he growled. The smell of waste hit the air as the Night Warden came in. “You all should have stayed in the Royal Dungeons. Now- you deal with us.” The Night Warddn said, crossing his arms.

“Your unreal!” Cried the tall man with horns infront of me “they sent you… to me! You don’t even know how to hold a sword! I almost pity you… actually no I do pity you. How awful this entire thing must of been for you!” He goes of on a rant as if becomes increasingly more obvious he wasn’t happy with my arrival.

“I mean… how old are you even?!?” He paused for my response, “uh well I just turned 18 like a week ago” I mumble out, if this wasn’t so odd I would be running away right about now.

“18!!!” His cried echo throughout the cold, damp dark cave we were in. “ IVE WAITED THOUSANDS OF YEARS FOR A 18 YEAR OLD? - he pauses once more- no no no this is unfair for me and you, I don’t care if the gods didn’t plan this I’m not fighting you without proper training”

“Excuse me?” I shutter out “no no no just like put me out of my misery now” I yell, not only has this been a strange week the dark lord himself refused to fight me? He could probably pick me up and break me in half with his fingers.

The dark lord paces across the floor, with smoke basically pouring out of his ears… and nose… and eyes? He stops in his tracks and looks at me like a million lightbulbs just went off.

“I got it!” He exclaims excitedly “who better to train you how to kill me, THAN ME!” At this point I feel like my eyes popped out of there sockets “what? Your going to teach me how to kill you, so you can kill me?! Your insane!” I throw my sword at him that were gifted from the gods, well I try to atleast, it just sort of fell at my feet.

“Your pathetic but you have potential, give me 10 years and you’ll be in top shape!” And so it began

I must admit the first few months were… weird, the dark lord doesn’t sleep, or eat or really even blink so he was often confused why I passed out over exhaustion. The first year went by and I had learnt basic survival skills, how to trap, hunt, start fires, build you name it I could do it. Who better to teach me than one of the creators of it all!

What was even weirder is after year second we actually began to bond, I never had a father growing up, he was teaching me like he would a son. And apparently his many children hate him for being the bringer of evil so I was his second chance. After the third year I could use almost every weapon in any arsenal, guns? A absolute breeze. Swords? Even better! I mastered the craft quickly under the guidance of the dark lord.

He didn’t only teach me however, I taught him about the human world, everything he ever missed out on, I showed him the internet and oh boy for a man who can’t/won’t sleep it does wonders.

The fifth year came around and it became more apparent we grew on eachother, most nights ended with war stories while I was eating the freshest hunt, or sometimes I would’ve even go to the store, don’t tell him I told you this but he loves twinkles!

The years kept passing, to quickly if anything, I won’t lie he became like a dad to me, I mean spending 10 years of your life with someone is a big deal. Completely not my choice but I’m glad the decision was made.

When the 10 year mark was about to hit, we both started to sit in silence, not sure how or what to talk about when one of our impending deaths were coming up. I don’t think I can murder this man, evil reincarnate sure? But he wasn’t a bad person, his morals are less than appropriate and his idealisms are flawed but past that he’s a normal semi demon devil dude.

Nearing my 28th birthday, we both started to become more and more sad, that our time was over soon. I mean if I live through this I’ll be regretting killing him, and if I die I’ll be sentenced to life in purgatory or worse… I was made as the gods last hope and now I’m rethinking everything?! I mean if I don’t kill him he will cause the world to end! But is that even a bad thing? Children dying every day, abuse, war, homelessness, depression, inequality, racism’s. But there are innocent people out there, that did nothing but enjoy their life’s.

“I know what your thinking” he says while Hanging from the roof, his odd red eyes staring intently.

“Yeah one of us is going to die but so what? It’s probably going to be you, and I don’t want it to be but we’ll I also don’t want to die. All of eternity I thought you weak humans were useless in the grand scheme of things, well I still think most of you are - “ I cough trying to steer him back on track, a trick I learnt to late might I add “right yes, but we had fun right? What could be worth more than that, we are going to fight for our way of life, one of us is going to lose nothing we can do about it, but enjoy the time we have and stop wandering about all the what ifs?”

I sigh “we’ll I must admit it has been a pleasure, working along side the dark lord and all, but humans have empathy and although you tried, many, many times To rinse it out of me, I have emotions, and many of them. Just gonna be weird dude, I mean sure we spar, but that’s for fun not to possible change the fate of the universe” he shines his sick smile at me and says

“Don’t be such a bother, when this is all over, we will just be glad I decided to give you more time on this lonely path you walk” he jumps down to tower over me, not in a intimidating way but more of a caring one.

“Listen kid, we both needed some lessons, we taught eachother a lot. Win or lose this decade will be one for the history books, the time the deviously handsome dark lord took his mortal sworn enemy under his wing to eventually kill him” he laughs fill the cave “deviously handsome part may be a lie. But your right. We can do this, I mean you taught me how to start a fire why can’t I kill the one person I’ve been training to kill for years right!?”

He smiles and nods “well you have a week to prepare, to the best man” he extends his hand “to the best man” I grab it and with a firm but grim handshake it was set in stone. And as quickly as he appeared 10 years ago he left, leaving nothing but an empty depressing cave and the white sword of the gods.

(Sorry for any typos I’ll go back through and get rid of them eventually)

"Listen, kid, you've got good sword form, your companions seem strong, and you've got a good 'want to help people' vibe. But really, what do you know about running an empire?" the Emperor of Vrida asked the heroic intruders. He'd cleared out the court when he heard they were coming; the nobility always got snarky when heroes turned up.

"Don't try to hide behind your responsibilities. You're an autocratic despot that must be stopped."

"Okay, fair point on the responsibilities. If I'd been doing my job properly, you wouldn't be so motivated to get rid of me. But if you take me out, you're not going to do much better. You'll have to answer to the same scummy nobility and power-hungry factions and make similar, if not the same compromises."

"Which faction are you with, anyway?" the Emperor inquired. Maybe he could get a little extra intel out of this conversation.

"Stop stalling, I see no reason to tell you anything, Evil Overlord!" the hero posed magnificently, sword extended and glittering in the sunlight that came in through the new skylights. He didn't know who was on mirror duty up there today, but they were getting a raise.

"We're from the Church of Rabinna," the young man with the lute offered, stepping forward into the light.

"Rabinites? Really? They just do not take no for an answer do they. Okay, pop quiz, kids. What's the biggest threat to the stability of our country today?"

"Godless heathens threatening the morals of our communities. Witches and their dark magics. Evil sorcerors who seize power from the rightful monarchy." The emperor had to admit, the kid had panache and presence. And he managed to keep that sword extended the whole time, in an incredible feat of strength, but it had started to waver a bit.

"Mmm, no. It is the ongoing drought in neighboring Altat. We're trade partners and our people speak mostly the same language, so when they go hungry, the people emigrate to better lands. The neighboring lords see their farm serfs as money-producing assets rather than a people and decide if they're going to lose people anyway, they might as well do so as conquerors. Vrida technically claims the highland plateau but the nomadic herding tribes up there are effectively indefensible, so if there's a bad harvest this fall, I expect to see Altanese armies in the eastern valleys by late spring next year.

"Second on the list is probably education. Those 'godless heathens' you're talking about, regardless of their religious practices, are often educated craftspeople and merchants. People with the means to get out early when they saw which way the wind is blowing; people who have brought their own wealth and skills and are almost always improve the quality of life in any community they settle in.

"But no, they get called godless or witches a lot due to our undereducated and church-educated populace. It's been extremely difficult to build infrastructure for secular youth education and orphanages with the Rabinites yapping in the ear of all the nobility. And the last thing the nobles want is people figuring out the don't need the nobility to live happy lives." The emperor stopped, realizing he was ranting. Or monologuing. That's what the kids call it these days, right?

The heroes, for their part hadn't interrupted. The lutist and the huntsman had thoughtful expressions. The tiny wizardess with the enormous hand-me-down pointy hat had even blanched. And their anointed leader had lowered his sword. There's a good chance he had them sold, though the swordsman could just be tired; swords were heavy.

"So what's your play here? You kill me, try to take over, get ousted by some of the better armed and better connected nobility, only to be conscripted into next year's war?" He paused, but stared them down to give them no room to speak. "Or, the four of you go back home, but work for me. You set up schools and negotiate on behalf of the crown with the nobility for land to put them on. Get your feet wet dealing with these kinds of people. There will probably be some .. militant objections, but the four of you are the kind of warriors that can solve those problems, are you not? In exchange, I pay you and teach you what you need to know about ruling a country."

"The Empire will not suffer another day of your--" the hero began before the wizardess slid up and pulled at his arm to get his attention. Not exactly Emperor material, that boy.

"We need a minute to confer with our colleagues, Evil Overlord," she said. The emperor waved his hand dismissively and they huddled up, whispering among themselves while the emperor went back to reading a report on banditry losses to Vridan trade in Altat. After a moment, they arrayed themselves once more.

"Very well, we accept, but know that we will not allow the crown any leeway on injustices," the hero announced.

"Wonderful!" the Emperor replied then rang a little bell to summon his minster. "I'll get things all set up."

The crossbowmen filed out from behind the upper level parapet they'd hidden behind. Marisa, one of his state security officers, appeared suddenly at his side.

"Thank you for not shooting the heroes right away," the Emperor told her, smoothly suppressing his surprise at her appearance. "Send someone to follow them."

"I'll have them go missing once they're out of the city, Emperor," she replied. He shook his head.

"No, not to kill them. Just keep them out of trouble," he corrected her, rubbing his forehead with one hand. You could take the girl out of the assassins, but perhaps not the assassin out of the girl.

"The boy's zealotry is going to cause problems. You trust too much, Emperor."

"I've never once regretted trying, Marisa. Not even the extreme cases," he implied, looking at her pointedly. She nodded and vanished, preferring to take it as a dismissal and retreat rather than respond.

"No detaining them either!" he shouted after her, realizing his mistake almost too late. He really needed to be more careful about that. Another work in progress.

The Dark Lord wasnt impressed by my skills or my current level. They were nearly triple what I was with skills I never heard of before and even magic types yet to even be discovered. I never knew you could shape sand like water, Or freeze water using it like earth. Fire could be mixed with the earth to create an entirely new type of magic type to control even the most powerful volcanos-... I was no match... The Dark lord looked at me as I laid down trying to get up my resolve keeping even despite my lack of power. "You still wish to fight... Tch! Why didnt they teach you better?! I was bored and hoping to finally be entertained for once! I even sent you fodder!! You know what they say sometimes if you want something its best to do something yourself..." Suddenly they healed me and had my mana recovered fully. "Wh-what are you doing?!" You asked a little perplexed by the fact your health, mp, and stamina, all rose to your max. "Your of little concern to even be a threat to me... Your training begins in 3 days go rest and I encourage you to look around, read, study, and meditate. Perhaps after this you'll be a worthy opponent after this since you have shown the most potential." Ten years later you two got closer, despite all they've done to you and your comrades, you were almost treating one another like the best Childhood friends. "Hey Xanadu how are you today?" You say with your body more toned, disaplined, Mana no longer flowing like raging waters but instead flowing steadily like a stream. "Good however this will be the last of the knowledge I can pass to you today. I will give you time to prepare for our rematch-" suddenly you interrupted them. "Hold on Rematch? Like when I fought you ten years ago?! N-no wait... hold on-... You've disproved so much of the lies I've learned about magic and you know so much I-I cant kill you-! Your... the last of your kind..." Xanadu looks at you with a smile and oats your shoulder. "The world requires sacrifice to change, someone needs to be the villan and the other a hero. The world is corrupt and needs fixing however I no longer need to go on... You already know of my kids and my wife and how I have already prepared them and did my best to have them understand it all. Quin we must fight, I've taught you more than just magic and skills. I've given you all the knowledge I possess you've read every book and story and you already know everything from weapons to history. You already know the story of my kind... We were feared because of our strength. We were hated because of our internal heritage. However it was the minority of the few that caused most of this, their bloodlust requiring them to be put down like a wild dog. There is however one thing in this world that requires protection .. The weak you already know I spare children and demi humans... I may be evil but I am no monster." You could only ball up your fist and suck up what tears and emotions you had. They were your mentor, your friend, your therapist, and teacher. you looked at them teary-eyed and protested "I dont care if Im the Chosen one to defeat you please! I can't just kill you after all you've done for me... I cant throw away what we've built up together I-" Xanadu silenced you smiling sweetly as their dagger like teeth show as he felt your sympathy and couldn't be happier. "Quin... Yes I understand your emotions are justified and right. It shows you have a good heart, however if your worried about that simply just let me go out with a bang. Im not as young as I was 10 years ago, you've also grown and matured. But they are all depending on you. Most of them likely figure you dead, so just come back to them bloody weary and with my head and they'll all rejoice. Bring them knowledge and take hold of my army. The undead will all die with me so no worries there. From the Kolbolds to even the Imps. All of them will follow you willingly, since you've spent so much time with them all and they know they're lives are safe in your hands. Bring what I could not as a fool in my youth. Do me this one selfish request friend." Through tears and a sniffling nose at this emotional revelation you nodded agreeing with them. You knew despite them being the only one to understand what sort of burden you carry and the only one to truly resonate with your backstory, if there was to be peace in this world again the title of Demon Lord must be erased from history. The cruel twist of fate in this story? Only those pure in heart can become either Demon Lord or A Chosen One. The true prophecy read that they are ment to face eachother as close friends to bring a change to the world. After your final bits of training you went to the old dungeon you never completed and went through it taking out your feelings on the monsters below as you didnt even feel better afterwards, Simply worse at the fact every kill makes you think of what the final blow could be to Xanadu. Xanadu the last of the infernal Archdemons of old. At the end of the dungeon you would find a note from Xandu..? You quickly picked it up and read it, "Dear Quin, by this time it would likely have been 5 maybe 10 years. The day you came and challanged me I thought for once about how I'd kill you. However I saw the fire I once had in your eyes and I held back on you in our first fight, I didnt even go past 10%, Im glad I held back though because at the time of writing this you've brought me and my home much needed light. You brought a once divided territory together. You helped people find love and even love from anothet species. You truely are the chosen one. Im sure your sad and upset, as am I. So I give you the sword you seemed to continue to eye ever since I told you it was the strongest of all of them. I give this t you not out of pity or worry you don't defeat me, but out of kindness and gratitude for what you have done for me. Also as a way of congratulations on the end of your training and the hopeful end of this journey you have so a new one towards world peace can start. Make sure to give me a spectacular end like one read in books. - Sincerely Xandu" ... [Part 2 coming later if you enjoy this!]

"Did you know it's been 10 years, to the day, that some braggart charged through those doors and challenged me to a duel?"
"Can you not remind me of that?" I shuddered at the memory. It was possibly the most embarrassing next few minutes of my life as the Dark Lord, who later introduced himself as Warren, trounced me at swordplay.
"But you were so serious, with such grandeur." he teased. "Standing there, all righteous and proclaim-y."
"Can you not?" I sank into my chair, trying to sink into my chair to escape.
"Oh, I had a moment of concern, but then you struck that silly pose. Poor Marcus."
"You know I prefer Mark." I grumbled, trying to interrupt but Warren carried on as if I never spoke.
"Confident tournament winner, head full of praise and prophecy. You believed so fervently you could take me on and win." I could feel my cheeks burning. Ten years on, and he still knew exactly how to get this reaction from me. "How many times did you lose your sword? I lost count."
"Can. You. Not." I hissed at him. I had trained and fought in tournaments for five years before emerging victorious in the 'Grand Chosen One Tourney'. I was the greatest swordsman in the land. I was praised for my skill. A prophecy was revealed. I was promised riches and rewards once I had defeated the Dark Lord, the leader of a neighbouring hostile territory we had been at war with for generations. Sent on my way with newly forged equipment and a sense of purpose, of completion to my life. Finally, I could accomplish my dream.
The problems? Where to begin? I was sixteen. I was naive. The tournament swordplay was about style and showmanship. Entertainment for the crowd. Flashy moves and countermoves, studied and learned to perfection. Moves designed to mark your opponent, not kill. I was hopelessly outmatched.
"But then you got frustrated." Warren laughed. "Soon, you got angry." He stopped laughing. His voice softened. "You stopped thinking about your 'swordplay.' And that was when you actually became dangerous." I blinked. He'd not said that to me before.
"I'm sorry, what?" I turned my head and looked at Warren. Gone was the teasing, he had an almost kind expression on his face.
"It's true. Once you stopped holding to those forms, you actually showed some natural talent for proper swordplay." I studied his face, but there was no trace of mockery of any kind. "After a few minutes, incidentally the longest time you'd kept hold of your sword," Oh, there was the mockery. "I decided that I'd take you in and train you properly."
"Gee, thanks." I muttered dryly. In truth I was glad he had done so. Over the years it took him a long time to un-train me, as it were, of all the memorised form and movements. During this period he not only mentored me in swordplay, but I taught a lot of his governance methods and ideology as well.

It took a few months when he did take me in, but I soon realised that the 'Dark Lord' was anything but evil. Yes, he ruled a territory hostile to my homeland. But that was because we were trying to attack them. It became clear this was the case when I witnessed such an attack a year in. I groaned inwardly when I watched forces from my homeland 'fight' tournament style against the properly trained infantry. I was amazed when there were minimal casualties, I expected a rout. I learnt why, when I queried Warren about it.
"It's simple, Mark." Warren waved languidly towards a map. "It's a war, yes, but one with minimal effort and loss. I've tried for peace but your king adamantly refuses. So this is the result." Looking at the map, there was a clear zone of 'Battle Territory'. Beside it was a list of locations. In this zone, some small fortresses had been built, designed to draw the attention of my homeland. Each of these seemed to have a schedule of being 'won' and 'lost'.
"What is this?" I pointed to the other end of the map, the opposite side of the territory from my homeland.
"That, Mark, is where the real fighting is." Warren's tone was serious. "Creatures come from that direction. Not organised, but of malice and hunger. They seek food, and we cannot let them pass. They eat anything. Anyone." I shivered at his words. "The front against your homeland is where the soldiers go on rotation, for a rest."

After this my combat training came in earnest. Warren wasn't always the person teaching me, but we sparred often so he could measure how well I was doing. Once proclaimed ready enough, I traveled with Warren on his twice a year visit to the creature front, where I felt the true fear of fighting for my life. There was no finesse here. No showmanship. The creatures didn't care how fancy your footwork looked, how stylish your sword moved. It was kill as quick as possible.

The years passed this way. I became proficient in swordplay. I discovered a people who were happy with their ruler, people who were strong in craftsmanship and industry. Their strength came from a history of fighting these creatures. I once question why Warren simply didn't take over my homeland, it was so much smaller and would be an easy fight.
"The culture." Warren shrugged. "It is alive with such a unique and vibrant culture, to take this away or try to integrate it would be a tragedy. It's important to keep it safe."

"Hey! You with me?" Warren's voice pierced my thoughts.
"Oh, sorry. Was just remembering the early days." I glanced around. "I actually thought you were evil back then."
"And now?"
"You're a good man. You rule well, you have the support of your people. Some things you do for a greater good rather than your own gain, despite it being the harder path. I respect you, and your beliefs." It was the truth. Warren had shown his worth over the years. However, one thing nagged at me, one thing he had never answered. "Why have you invested so much into me?"
"It's time you fulfilled the prophecy." Warren replied, smiling. I went cold. I had forgotten all about that. I stared at him, at a loss. I couldn't kill him. Not now. Not after everything he'd taught me. I realised then I loved him like a father.
"No." Not a chance. I would not do this.
"Excuse me?"
"I am not going to kill you." My voice was steel. Determined.
"What are you talking about?" Warren looked very confused.
"The prophecy, where I defeat the Dark Lord. I refuse." I remained steadfast. Prophecy or not. This was my choice.
I wasn't ready for what happened next. Warren burst into laughter, howling as he hammered the table between us. He thought this was funny? I glared at him. He laughed harder, and longer. I was irritated.
"What, exactly, is so funny to you?" I growled. Warren held up his hand, trying to calm himself. After a few moments, he managed to speak through barely contained laughter.
"Do you remember your first words to me, those ten years ago?"
"Yes." I was still grumbling. "I had been sent here to end the Dark Lord, as per the prophecy."
"Wrong." Warren looked at me intently. "Try again." Wrong? I closed my eyes, thought back to that fateful day.
"I am Marcus." The words came from a distant memory, when I had practised my speech over and over. "I have come to fulfill the prophecy of my people, where I will end the Dark Lord's reign over this territory. Prepare to meet your demise!"
"Yes, Marcus. Where you would end the Dark Lord's reign." I opened my eyes, Warren was studying me. "I haven't been training my assassin, I've been training my successor."

... Oh.

My journey has taken 12 long years, 10 years longer than expected. I’m really feeling better about this. I’m glad Duane finished my training. It was a lot harder, but I feel I’ve got this a lot better now. Through these doors lies the Dark lord’s throne room. 10 years ago those guards might have proven more difficult but I’m not even breathing hard. Ok. It’s time! Let’s do this. I push open the doors. More guards. Just standing at attention, not even looking at me. I walk in. Quite majestic. Red rug, tall marble pillars, huge throne in the distance, a white tiger, classic evil guy pet. I’m getting very evil vibes from like everything in hear. Finally my journey can be over!

I hear a voice call out, he greets me by name. Weird. “Fear not, the guards won’t intervene. Very strict orders. You need not fear them”. How does he know my name? His voice sounds familiar. Heh, overly large horns on his helmet, it’s like he has read all the “evil villain tropes” out of a book. Well he’s drawing his sword. Time for talk is over!

It was a long and drawn out fight. I won. But something isn’t right. He’s mortally wounded. Taking off his helmet. IT’S Duane! I kneel next to him. He smiles kindly. “My time is done, you did well, I knew I trained you correctly”

“But why?” I ask. “I don’t understand. Had you killed me at our first meeting… I wouldn’t have won now. Did I really win are you…?” He interrupts me. “Don’t go doubting yourself now. I wanted to see your true strength. And I found it. You are the right one to rule on this throne.” A guard approaches. He kneels before me, he’s holding up a helmet, long horns. Longer than the dark lords. “Take it, and rule my friend. I would want nothing less for you”. Duane is coughing up blood.

“I’m not right for ruling anything” I say, Duane responds “Do what you want, kill those who oppose, delegate the rest. My people are very good at running things”. I pick up the helmet. It looks the perfect size. Duane coughs up more blood. He doesn’t have much time. He looks like he is in so much pain. I put on the helmet, the guards kneel. I pick up Duane’s sword, and plunge it into his chest. Peace is on his face. No more pain. As if practiced I hear “The Dark Lord is dead, Long live the Dark Lord!” I rise and ascend to the throne. I look at Duane. “Call a taxidermist, I want him to watch over this room to see what I will do” a guard runs off. 12 years I was the Hero. 10 years I knew the dark lord. Taught me everything. Those who sent me will be happy to know he’s dead, but their problems are just beginning.

Revenge will be sweet and regret will be upon their lips, nothing but sorrow will they find. The Dark Lord has past, but a new terror is coming, and isn’t afraid of the light. I didn’t want this, but I can see who the true evil is now. We will ride forth, and cleanse the scourge that has soured the lands. Rivers will flow with their blood, night is ending, the blood red sunrise is coming.

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