The Swordsman

The moon howls on a stormy night in Liberta. The clouds cried loudly, bathing trees and homes with its ice-cold tears. Nobody dared to go out, but not because of the heavy storm, it was permeating with loud noises all over the land within the kingdom's borders. The sound of the falling rain, the thunder, the dancing canopies of the forests, screaming soldiers and swinging swords scattered across a large stronghold. A fight broke out, and the intruders dressed in purple swallowed the area with their mighty purple blades, leaving no guards alive. Swords clashed as the black clothed guards who were left, fought to death with the unknown purple figures.

Amidst the battle was an armored swordsman wearing a black iron mask, marching in the center aisle without batting an eye to the chaos that they were entangled in. Each step was in harmony with the swords being pitted against each other, creating a perfectly imbalanced rhythm of havoc. The swordsman wandered through the halls, gazing upon the walls and the doors, seemingly looking for something. And while the whole place was being ransacked by the purple intruders, the swordsman simply observed and observed every corner and nook of the chambers. The more they journeyed through the stronghold, the more they strayed further away from the chaos.

Eventually, the swordsman found themselves standing in front of an ominous entrance which led to an underground area. Without any hint of hesitation, they pushed the door aside, stepped forward and began their search. It was dark and there barely was any light, even the lit-up torches couldn't manage to brighten the pitch-black pathways. The catacombs were an endless maze of emptiness. Almost all the doors throughout the maze-like chambers were opened with its rooms fully emptied. They noticed the disarray of the place, convinced enough to think that there were inhabitants underground that rushed out of the stronghold after hearing the commotion upstairs. The swordsman even passed by an empty arena that was quite large and could fit a large audience, which made them wonder why such was built under a fairly small stronghold, and why there were so many spaces for people despite not matching with the amount of guards they had seen. They stopped for a while, looking at the empty space filled with filth. Disgusted by the sight, the swordsman turned away.

After traversing by that hideous place, they finally reached an unopened door which was locked by a repelling barrier. The door, among the others, was quite tall and had a sacrilegious yet sophisticated appearance. With just a quick slash of the swordsman's purple blade, the barrier was easily broken.

Before they opened the door, they knocked seven times. "Your Highness?" the swordsman called out.

Slowly, they opened the door. A warm breeze then caressed the swordsman's armor, suddenly ridding them of the cold that was clinging on to them while traveling through the catacombs. Appearing before the swordsman was a wide and spacious chapel of unholy worship. Each side of the large room was filled with long pews, candelabras, and long silky curtains almost covering the defaced walls. Standing across the red carpet in the center of the chapel was an exquisite altar embellished with silver, gold, and other precious stones. On top of it, a body lies quietly unmoving underneath a white silk cloth. The swordsman stepped forward, making the sound of their step echo throughout the walls. They then spoke, "Awaken, my prince."

Moments later, the cloth began moving. It started to elevate, and while it rose, it was eventually pulled down. The silk cloth flowed gracefully like running water on the being's soft skin, revealing what seems to be a human. Arose underneath the cloth was a being of majesty and allure. His eyes were closed, his lips were parted, and his lengthy black hair carefully hid under the cloth. Slowly, he opened his eyes to grace his sight with the swordsman's presence.

"Who are you looking for?" he calmly spoke. His voice was warm and comforting, akin to that of an angel. Hearing this, the swordsman chuckled. "I'm afraid I have already found you, my prince." The swordsman said.

"You must be mistaken; you have entered the wrong place." The "prince" insisted. He felt the strong presence of the swordsman and knew the imperilment that they might bestow upon him. But he could only calm himself before a storm unveils. After all, he was already quite used to it.

"My prince, I do make mistakes, but never my unending search for you. I longed for this day, and this was quite a journey to make." Assured the swordsman. Their voice was void of lies, it was not man or woman, it was inhuman honesty. "Well then, swordsman." The prince then raised his arm, pointing his finger towards the masked danger before him. "I command you to save me." Says the prince as his eyes shone a bright ruby red.

With their head raised, the swordsman replied: "No need to command me, I am no slave. But withal, if you give your everything to me, I am at your mercy."

"Then I give you my everything. Come and take me away."

"Yes, your Majesty."

The swordsman took a few steps forward, and carefully admired the beautiful being that was the prince. They'd realized that he had such a majestic countenance; eyes glistening like ruby, cheeks blooming like a field of roses, and lips blushing like an ocean of blood. His long dark hair complimented the shape of his face, and his sunset skin was barely blanketed by his thin silk robes. If not for the poor condition he was in, he would be most beautiful indeed. Yet with how he is now, it was hard to not ignore the fact that he was probably mistreated. "How dare they." The swordsman thought.

"Once the sun rises, the towers of this stronghold will fall to the ground along its builders. There will be nothing but ruins left of this place by the time I leave." The swordsman spoke with obvious terror in their voice as they stared at the walls filled with hideous paintings of demonic figures. Slowly, they wrapped the cloth on the prince's body gently as they turned towards him, looking away from the befouled walls. "Lucius causes me no fear, I pity him. He'll be crying as soon as he comes to see his stronghold burn to the ground. As for you, I will keep you safe." The prince felt anxious after hearing the swordsman's voice, but he simply composed himself, pulled the silk cloth and looked at the swordsman's masked countenance. "Forgive me for finding you too late, but I have finally arrived." The swordsman held the prince's wounded hand. Gently, they pressed their lips against his skin.

"All this time, have you been waiting for me, my prince?" asked the swordsman in a low, soft and almost whispering voice.

"My mind does not know, but my heart screams that you would come." the prince replies.

"Well then, it is time for me to take you away."

"I beseech you to do so, before Lucius finds us here."

Gently once more, the swordsman carefully held the prince in their arms, and carried him away from the altar. The prince held the swordsman's armor tightly so as to not fall from their grasp. He laid his head on their chest, and eventually closed his eyes.