1 Prologue

"Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over..."

-Tom Stoppard

As I laid choking on the blood of my punctured lungs, I heard the murderers speak. They thought I was dead. They thought they finished the job. I wasn't quite dead yet, but I would be soon. I'd gladly greet death with open arms. I had nothing to live for. They defiled my wife and daughter; butchered my son. They made sure to kill them slowly in front of me. All the while I sat chained up unable to save them. My yells and cries went unheard. Into the silence, they would forever stay. We had been herded into the lower levels of the castle where hardly anyone ever set foot.

Someone had to have helped these men. Someone had betrayed The Crown. With my death, Iron Forge would be left without a monarchy, setting into motion a very archaic game. During which the kingdom would be vulnerable to attacks from the other two territories of the Midlands. The other ruling families were vultures waiting to pick off what they could from the dead. This is what they must have wanted; these men with the tear drop tattoo at the corner of their eye.

The red haired young man spoke, "We did our job. Let's leave this place."

The older man growled that he would not leave without getting what he was owed. The other three murderers of their group agreed. They wanted their money. I was on the brink of death and they fought over money. Of course, it was always about money.

The root of all evil, indeed it was.

Finally someone had arrived that would pay their fee. My best friend...

"Why?" I choked out, barely above a whisper. More blood trickled down the side of my mouth.

He turned, eyebrows raised. He thought the job was done as well. He walked over to me, bent down, and whispered, "Because you were too lenient in ruling your Kingdom. This way a war will break out and my business will prosper at your death."

He took out a handkerchief and cleaned the blood away from my mouth.

"Your death is a tragedy, but me and your Kingdom will strive on. It's not personal, it's merely business."

He pulled out a knife from his coat and ran it across my neck.

The darkness welcomed me into the fold.