The Lord and the Loyalty

"Shut it, you scoundrel! One more word and I'll have a piek up your ass!"

"Bastard! What's the matter with you?"

Emberfall snapped. He rushed at Morvain, throwing a furious fist in his direction. Alas, he miscalculated, as the punch was intercepted by none other than Logan, the red-haired warrior himself.

"Forgive me, my lord," Logan said, holding Emberfall's fist at bay. "You can punish me all you want, but I won't let you touch the World Bringer just because you are a lord."

"What?!"

The young lord was stupefied. An arrogant nobody was daring to touch him—no, blocking his hands.

"Big brother!"

Another voice echoed, and Rony rushed in moments later. The scene he stumbled upon was nothing short of horrifying.

The arrogant young lord had his fist raised high in the air, just inches away from the World Bringer's face. It was blocked by Logan's iron fist, and it looked like he was struggling to maintain control.

On the bed, his Big Brother was sweating buckets, his face full of worry, perhaps fearing for his life from this arrogant prick.

Rony rushed near the bed, concern etched on his face.

"Are you alright, sir! Did this arrogant punk hurt you?!"

"Watch your mouths, heathens. Or else I'll have to speak with my spear," Emberfall threatened, his blue orbs on the verge of sparking at the instant. He was itching to take out these three imbeciles, to cut down this waste of air from the world.

"You're erratic, Lord Emberfall!" said Logan. "What you are is just a bully. A psychopath, a cruel bully. You don't even have mercy for a dying man, do you? A man who just saved your life days ago. An ungrateful brat who doesn't know shame. How can you threaten a person who has saved your life?"

Logan's words were full of poison. When he saw this blond-haired freak, the urge to punch his face was so intense that his hand burned with the desire to disfigure him.

"What did you say, you scoundrel?" Emberfall seethed.

At last, Lord Emberfall's eyes turned into something cruel and deadly, like a devil unleashed from its shackles. A shimmer of silver played on his hands as he bore his eyes on the three little specks in this world.

"Fuck!" Logan cursed, dropping the young lord's hands from his grasp. He blew on his hand, feeling like it was getting cooked.

"You have forgotten where you were standing before the Kraken. On the bottom. Your lives are just pawns on mine and the lords' board. Don't get ideas in your thick heads that the World Bringer has any worth to a single living lord. You came from nothing, and you are nothing."

Then he lifted his hand in the air, and the room felt stiflingly hot. Silver lights danced across the damp room, like a malevolent celebration of impending doom.

And all this while, Morvain was muttering some incomprehensible words.

"Where is it? Where's my precious stone? Come back to me. Come back to me."

"Pray to the All-father that your next life is better than this," said the lord, "It'll do good."

And the hand fell, all the silver magic about to be unleashed on the three maggots that the young lord of Emberfall deemed unfit to live in this world.

Morvain was awed by the sudden surge of light. Rony was crying, shielding his big brother from the light even though he himself trembled with fear.

But Logan, he was different. He focused his entire power on his right fist and launched a punch straight at the hand that held the power to vaporize them.

In an instant, both abilities collided.

Lord Emberfall's power was magical, held in his flesh hand. Yet Logan's ability was physical. His hands were stronger than the young lord's. His fist connected with the unassuming hand, sending it upward, straight towards Lord Emberfall's face. The clash of powers and the impending collision created an electric tension in the room, as if the very air held its breath for the outcome.

Horrified, the young lord desperately tried to dissolve his magic, but the window was too little and too narrow to avoid. The hand went straight to his face, exploding upon impact.

The sudden, brutal force took Lord Emberfall down to the ground like a sack of meat, blood spurting and staining the surroundings. Guttural screams and vile curses escaped from his throat as he clutched his face, the mixture of threats and blood seeping through his fingers. 

Logan picked his broken hand with his other and looked back at his...hero.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"You just-" Morvain pointed at the screaming young lord "-You just fuckin' killed him."

Logan chuckled and scratched the back of his head. "That's not true, sir. He's not dead, and in a minute, I might be the one to die. But it's all worth it as long as you're safe, Sir World Bringer."

They all glanced at the screaming young Lord. By now, they were certain that other passengers had noticed the commotion, and it was only a matter of time before they stormed in to take the young lord to a healer. Logan, Rony, and perhaps Morvain would likely find themselves behind bars; after all, Morvain was still a lowborn. World Bringer or not, he was present when someone attempted to kill a young lord from a family destined for the crown.

'Oh! This is beyond messed up.'

Morvain cursed, and he could tell they heard him. Both the others had also heard him. They exchanged silent glances, a tacit understanding passing between them.

"It was nice knowing you, Sir. Albeit the short time, but the moments spent with you were unforgettable for sure," Logan spoke with a weak smile and glanced at Morvain.

'What is that in his eyes? Loyalty? To whom? Me? Why?'

Morvain couldn't even recall this man. What did he do to earn such loyalty? No matter how much he searched his brain, he couldn't understand why.

'Was it because I defeated the Kraken? Is that enough to earn loyalty from someone like him? Someone... strong.'

Morvain looked down at the floor, dark liquids covering it, undoubtedly the blood of the young lord.

'Someone strong enough to make a lord bleed!'

He wanted to dance, but his mind was abruptly pulled back as he heard footsteps drawing closer and closer. The echoing clack of armored boots signaled the arrival of at least a dozen people.

'Oh, hell.'

"Hey," Morvain spoke, trying to keep his voice steady, "What's your name?"

A wistful smile graced Logan's face as he executed a graceful bow,

"Logan. Logan Ashbourne, at your service, sir."

The dramatic tension heightened as the armored figures closed in, their every step a foreboding echo in the confined space.

Just as twelve knights clad in armor burst through the open doors, their imposing figures filling the room. As they took in the macabre scene on the floor, they immediately pointed their swords at the three figures. Logan, however, knelt on the floor with head held high and proclaimed:

"It was me who put the arrogant young Lord on the floor. For he deserved nothing short of a beating."