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Gilded men and their pride

By Aarbs123 All Rights Reserved ©

Fantasy / Drama


In a world where bitter betrayal is what it takes to help others, There is no room for sorrow. There is no room for coping with ghosts of the past. There is no room for love. There is no room for honour. There is no room for anything but survival and living for as long as you can. In Grilmair, many secrets are hidden and stowed away, some are known and seen by the blessed to be cursed and some are kept hidden away where they belong. Blood is what hands you an empire and bloodshed is what earns you a title.


With a hand tucked behind each of their backs, the two sparred. The forged metal clashed against one another and anticipation lay thick like smog in the fresh sea air. Grunts left both of their mouths while the tasteless wind blew their hair and pulled their cheeks back.

The lavish balcony top that they sparred on, overlooked the home they knew so well; there were the thin, green vines that curled around the white pillars like how lovers intertwine with their bare legs. Gentle blossoming flowers that gleamed the shade of the sparkling waters that outstretched past the courtyard far below. The water was rippling sweetly, coaxing itself to the pace of the wind, the sea foam bubbling over each peak of each wave.

Dangling beneath the proud pillars rested a banner stitched with a red stag. The minuscule details of gilded gold eyes lurched into the sockets. Their footwork was like watching the ocean rise and fall as a storm brewed, lithe movements like vipers.

The larger one leaped forward to catch the other out, but the other ducked letting the whipping sound of the sword rush past, steel skimming the air. The larger figure writhed with his sparring sword, but the younger darted and ducked, disappearing every moment or so.

The sparring was soon to be over, as the older man was kicked in the back by his apprentice to the floor with his sword flung across in front of a fountain, where a large, black, stone fish was spouting crystalline water.

"Father." Their eyes met and she helped the large man up from the floor, he heaved a little and they didn’t breathe a word to one another. His frame stood over hers as they stood side by side drinking wine from a cup each, looking over the balcony with side-eyed glances to nothing on each molded face of gold.

Following this, the elephant, polished oak doors had almost splintered open with the hinges straining to show an advisor, two guards, and a man restricted in chains, his chin and eyes planted to the floor. A black strip of cloth covered his eyes.

"You requested for him, my lord." The large man was left, his hair falling out of place on his head and the remnants of sweat were left to bead on his forehead.

"Get out." The girl turned to leave, counting to three in her head before hearing his voice, "Stay, little lady." Her boot-steps stopped, squeaking on the floor as she did so. The guards shut the door, the near silent sound of a key and lock sealed the pit.

The huge man stood in front of the man, his chest touching the head of the blindfolded man. Slowly, the girl untied the blindfold and let the man open his eyes to meet the unruly gaze of the Feower.

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