The Arcane Lord, page 1
The Arcane Lord
ALEX PRONE
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
About the Author
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Chapter
One
Julian’s mouth turned dry, and his eyes widened when he ingested the sight of his glorious home in such disrepair. Sensing movement behind him, he glanced over his shoulder and noticed the carriage ready to return to Silverhold.
"This is as far as I'll go. Good luck, young man," the coachman said as he spurred the horses away.
"Thank you," Julian muttered.
What the hell happened? He asked himself as he started striding down the road. Julian felt immense exhaustion from the long three-day trip he'd made, and the three years he spent grinding at Ironfist Academy. Many of the days at the academy he had desired to return home and hoped everything was as he had left. He hoped they had forgotten to send him letters and all would be fine. Yet even then, deep within himself, he knew everything was far from fine. Now his eyes confirmed that deep worry.
The way to the farmhouse was as simple as it could be. If someone left Silverhold and ventured south on the King's Road, they’d eventually reach the Lionheart’s family farm. That was why Julian was sure he was looking at the wrong place.
Just a hundred feet away from Julian, the family's crops started to come into view. Yellow and rigid, they swung with the scarce wind. The young man didn't need to touch them to know they were close to dead. Bugs could be seen swarming a section of the plantation, and the areas that still retained some memory of green were decaying, rotting at the base.
Surprisingly, the crops were the most alive thing Julian could see in the distance. The young man changed his luggage over to his left hand and gripped the hilt of his short sword with his other. He looked down at his feet to ensure his boots’ laces were well-tied and quickened his steps. He wasn't sure what awaited him inside his home, but he needed to be prepared for anything.
The wooden gates, that sat in the fifteen foot tall wall of the farm, lay on the ground as if a giant had pulled them down. The rock fortifications weren't in better shape; the young man could see a good part of them sprawling on the ground, lying in heaps of rubble. The last time Julian had gazed upon the farm gates, it was over his shoulder as he headed to the academy. Several of his father's workers had waved goodbye to him. Tarav, the old butler, even shed a tear that day.
However, no soul awaited Julian upon his return, and he suspected nothing good had happened to them. As Julian neared the estate proper, he searched his surroundings cautiously. Still, he saw no one waiting for an ambush outside the walls. Deciding to venture inside the manor, Julian peeked inside and stalked in, one step at a time. He thought about calling for one of the workers but decided against it. If someone else, especially an intruder, was inside the manor, it would have been better if Julian didn't announce his arrival.
The manor's inner courtyard was as empty as the outside. In one corner stood the stable, with no horses or hay inside. Conversely, the workers' houses had wide-open or well-locked doors. An eerie sound reverberated through the courtyard as the wind banged a door left ajar against the wall.
Julian walked towards the manor's well and saw what seemed to be clean water inside it. The fruit trees still towered over the courtyard; their deep roots kept them alive, while the grass, on the other hand, had died long ago.
He grabbed a tangerine from the nearby tree and pressed it slightly. From hunger and thirst, I’ll not die, he thought as he meticulously placed the fruit in front of the tree.
Julian's footprints marked the stairs of the manor, the layer of dust helping to make a strange painting. The young man stood before the old house and tried to open the main entry door, but it didn't give way, as if it were stuck. Sheathing his sword, he leaned his shoulder against it and pushed with all the strength he could muster. Something blocked the other side of the door, forcing the young man to grit his teeth as he pressed.
The young man momentarily contemplated the possibility that someone else was equalizing his force from behind the door, inside the manor. Still, that theory proved false seconds later as the weight on the other side finally gave in. Julian peeked before applying more force and discovered the weight was a wooden bookshelf. After two powerful shoves with his shoulder, the bookshelf toppled over with a sound THUMP, allowing him to slink past into the living room.
Most of the furniture was gone, but hanging above the fireplace, his mother's sword and bracelet stood tall and proud, contrasting with the wreckage scene before him. Chairs were broken, red stains adorned the walls, and dirt covered everything. Sunlight entered the room through a hole in the roof. When Julian looked up, he saw birds nesting in it, chirping, completely oblivious to the destruction.
Julian was taken from his musings when he heard a sound from the second floor, footsteps rushing from one room to another. The young man gripped his sword firmly and trod towards the sound, ready for battle.
As soon as he passed the living room doorway, he neared the spiral staircase leading to the bedrooms and his father's office, glancing up.
He couldn't detect a single movement any longer, and the sounds had ceased. For a minute, Julian suspected it could be one of the family's cats. Still, as he looked at the bookshelf toppled near the door again, he realized someone else had to be inside.
Julian left his luggage beside the first step, unsheathed his short sword as silently as possible, and started climbing. The young man had studied for years to be in situations similar to this one, but nothing could prepare him for actual combat. As his mother used to say to him, "Studying is valuable, but it's only practice; real warriors are made in combat."
Real warriors are made in combat, the young man repeated to himself as he breathed deeply and took the last step, feeling the confidence rushing through his veins.
The doors to his father's office and Julian's bedroom door lay ajar. Everything had been taken from both rooms. No bed, no desk, no bookshelves. Nothing he recalled was left. On the other side of the corridor stood his parents' bedroom, with the door closed. Julian looked at his three options, and before deciding which room to enter first, he saw the light shifting under the crack of his parents' room door.
Someone was inside it.
Holding the blade up, Julian strode towards the door with his left hand outstretched to the handle. Sweat started to drip from his forehead as he slowly prepared to open the door. He would face the bandit living inside his family's house in one fast turn of the hand. Three … two… one…
A stomping sound came from behind Julian’s back, and he turned as fast as possible. A hooded figure lunged towards him with a spear in hand, the weapon pointing at Julian’s belly. The young man’s years of training kicked in, swinging his sword in a great arc and deflecting the spearhead in one smooth motion.
The stranger flinched back one step, trying to get back into a fighting position and balance the spear. Julian wasn't going to give him time. With a quick rush, the young man grabbed the spear's hilt with his left hand and pulled it, bringing the enemy within the sword's reach.
Julian swung downward, aiming for the enemy’s throat and right shoulder, but the stranger was fast. They dodged to the side, and Julian’s blade hit the ground with a powerful clang sound.
Seizing the momentum, the stranger aimed to punch the young man in the face, but their good hand was holding the hilt of the spear.
Julian dodged the enemy's fist, feeling the gritty knuckle barely scrape by. The throw caused him to lose balance again. The young man kicked the stranger with force, making him fall onto his back and crash against the far wall. A male growled, revealing a sneer, but the shadows and the hood hid most of his face.
The shady man tried to get up but gave up as he saw Julian rushing forward with his blade ready.
With no more weapons or strength, the stranger lay there, panting.
"I'll give you one chance to respond to me," Julian calmly muttered, his sword touching the stranger's ragged clothes above his heart. "Where's my father, and what did you do to my house?"
The words hung in the air for almost one minute. The stranger remained there in silence, looking at something only he could tell.
"Your father?" The voice beneath the hood finally asked with consternation. It was an old and raspy voice, almost like a grumble.
"Did I stutter?" Julian pressed the sword with more force against the stranger's chest. A little more push and it would enter th
"Master Julian?"
As soon as the man uttered the words, recognition hit Julian like a boulder. He quickly withdrew the sword in shock and sheathed it on his belt. He crouched beside the man and helped him to sit with his back against the wall.
"Are you okay, Tarav? I didn't mean to hurt you. Why didn't you say anything? Why are you wearing a hood?" Julian asked with worry as the old man finally removed his hood, and instead of a grimace of pain or anger, the old man wore the most genuine smile on his face.
"You did right, Master Julian. It’s been far too long - I did not recognize you, and for that, I am sorry," the old butler said, lowering his eyes in deference.
"Nonsense," Julian said, checking the man’s chest, but Tarav gently removed the man’s hands.
"I'm all right, Master. I'd lost faith in your arrival, my lord. I understood the Academy couldn't excuse you, and I stopped sending more letters. Sorry if I caused you any trouble."
Julian let himself sit on the ground in front of the old butler and locked gazes with him.
"I received no letters, Tarav, at least not in the last year. I studied and learned the sword, accounting, trade, and management. They were hard years, but if I'd known the situation, I'd have come sooner," Julian said earnestly, and Tarav slowly relaxed. "What happened, Tarav? Where's my father?"
"Your father simply disappeared, Master. One day, he was here, asking me to fetch him some tea; the next, he vanished. Everything after that was just a never-ending spiral of disasters befitting an estate without a master.” He gazed out the window from his seat. With a haunted voice, he added, “One after the other."
Julian knew all too well what happened when the land went untended. "Baron's taxes?"
"That, and bandits. Every month, both would come to visit. I tried to make everything work, Master. In the first months after your father's absence, most of the workers remained, but as soon as I verified the debts and found out how difficult your father’s situation was, everything started to crumble. Wherever your father went, he took with him all the coins."
Julian kept sitting there, looking at the old family servant, the last one, if he was correct, and the words started to sink in. If everything Tarav was saying was true, his father had run from his responsibilities and left the house to slowly die.
"How was his health before he disappeared?" Julian finally asked.
Before the butler could reply, Julian's parent's room door cracked. The young man was about to jump to his feet when he saw it was only Jet—the family cat. Without caring for the dire situation, the cat nonchalantly strolled toward Julian and rubbed itself on the young man as if he had never left five years ago. He returned the affection, petting the cat behind the ears, and changed his attention to the old butler.
"Jet has been my only company the last few months." Tarav smiled as if contemplating an old memory, "About your father… you know how he is. Strong as a bull and stubborn as a donkey. He could lift a boulder, but he wasn't the same in the head anymore," Tarav said, his eyes watering. "I'm sorry, Master. It has been a terrible, terrible year. I prayed to the gods for your return from the Academy daily."
Julian extended one hand and placed it on Tarav's shoulders, gripping with strength.
"I'm glad you're here, Tarav, but you could've left. I wouldn’t have blamed you."
"Never," the butler replied resolutely, determination burning in his eyes. "I promised your mother I would serve this house, and I will."
"You have nothing tying you to my father anymore—"
"But I have to you, my Lord."
"All right, then," Julian said, getting up and helping the old butler to rise. "We have a lot of work to do, then."
Chapter
Two
It was past noon when they finished cleaning and adjusting the manor's main rooms. Julian didn't personally care for luxurious environments, but the place needed to be at least presentable. You can't fix your life if you can't fix your own home, Julian thought. This kind of activity was usually relegated to the servants. Still, Julian didn't have workers to spare, and Tarav couldn't do all the work alone.
"I'm sorry, Master. I tried to keep the manor clean and adjusted. I managed it for the most part, but the tax collectors came yesterday, as well as one bandit."
It was at least the third time Tarav had asked for forgiveness from Julian, and the Lord was starting to get annoyed with it. However, he decided to let it slide due to the man's trauma. If Julian still had a house, he credited it to Tarav's bravery.
"I understand, Tarav," Julian said, while he adjusted a couch near the fireplace. "Don't ask for forgiveness for acts you had no control over. Since they came yesterday, it's safe to say they won't come again for a month?" he asked, contemplating both the sword and the bracelet fixated on the walls. His mother's heirlooms gave the room a regal tone, their surfaces catching the sunlight and making Julian's heart tug with the pain of missing his mother—a sentiment brusquely interrupted by Tarav's voice.
"Normally, yes. But it can be different, Master."
"All right," Julian turned on his heels and strode toward the staircase; he wiped the sweat off his brow as he entered the office room. They had found a table and two chairs in the storage, both simple wooden furniture, but they would serve. Tarav had also gathered the papers addressing both their debts and their earnings. Julian had already separated them into two piles—the first surpassing the second by a significant amount.
"Can I help you somehow, Master?" Tarav said, standing in the doorway.
"Can you fetch two horses? I'm sure that regardless of what I discover reading these papers, we'll need to travel to Silverhold to make arrangements," Julian asked with hope. They could walk to Silverhold, but it would take forever.
The butler continued to frown for a few seconds. "I can ask Lord Bravo for a favor. He's only three miles away."
"I'm aware," Julian said and grabbed paper and pen, writing a brief letter to the Lord. "I can't see why he wouldn't help." The young Lord handed the letter to Tarav, who finally entered the room to collect it.
"I'll be back as fast as possible, sir."
"Good," Julian said, gazing down at the papers before him.
When the horses' neighing reached Julian's ears, he already had a good idea of how deep the hole his father had dug for him was. It was deep enough for a man to get desperate. But not Julian. This setback was salvageable. They would only need to work hard and use all the tools and tricks in their arsenal.
"Enter, Tarav," Julian said without lifting his eyes. The old butler tried to be discreet, but Julian had good ears. "How's Lord Bravo?"
"He's very well, Master. He's glad about your return and grieved by your estate's situation. He'll come to visit very soon."
"I'm glad we still have some friends. Did he help you last year?"
"In the beginning, yes. But Bravo's farm also started being attacked, and he couldn't spare many men."
"Understandable," Julian said with a sigh, extending the papers to Tarav, who sat in front of his master and read them silently. "I understand we're in debt to the baron by about six hundred coins."
"That's correct, Master."
"I have one hundred with me that I have saved over the last few years," Julian said, and Tarav seemed impressed but didn't interrupt his master. "We need to make five hundred coins, and that will be enough, but we have nothing to sell,"
"Besides your mother's—"
"Out of the question."
"I understand completely, my lord."
"I see the dungeon is still ours. How's the silver mining inside it?"
