webnovel

Sustaining the King's Life

COMPLETED. (WARNING: R18 on chapter 200+ onwards. This is a SLOW BURN ROMANCE. Read at your own risk.) ** On a secluded mountain situated upon a kingdom known as Feuersturm, resides a seemingly trifling cabin with an unlikely duo as its inhabitant—a witch, and her apprentice who presumably comes from a clan sought after by slave traders. Faustina is a sixteen-year-old girl who fled the slave market with the help of a sickly witch named Eula, who later on trained her as an apprentice for the span of seven years. Plagued with a mysterious disease for several years, Eula died despite the efforts Faustina had exerted to cure her; in her last breath, she left an odd request behind. "Sustain the king's life. This is your duty. Do not adhere to the prophecy." To which the odd plea shadowed a bizarre series of events, a consequential sentence; similar to that of a premonition. The same night the phrase was muttered, the chain of events followed: A warlock's intrusion to their home, with a peculiar yearning to resurrect Eula from the dead... and the king himself, asking for Faustina’s aid.

Chainslock · ファンタジー
レビュー数が足りません
284 Chs

Away From Here

Back when Faustina was at the age of nine, Eula tutored her how to distinguish medicinal herbs from poisonous ones. It is nothing too complicated at first, but as time escalated, things were getting trickier. Determining which of the two interchangeable mushrooms is the one containing poison and the one that can diminish watery-bowels is one of the challenges Faustina had to face.

Faustina studied for years how to identify these minuscule details. One of the key factors is the scent of the plant, its appearance, and its classification. What family does the plant belong to? What component does the plant possess? Faustina also learnt that when a strong extract—like the hypnosis medicine her master was experimenting with—when mixed with injury and travels by blood, it could be hazardous. It could even lead to a certain death. This is why Faustina carefully keeps all the medicines in the locked shelf.

Faustina honed her skills and studied with the supervision of her master, Eula, for seven years. Reaching the age of sixteen without being enslaved was already a blessing for Faustina. Having Eula and being her apprentice is more than enough for her—although from time to time, she could find herself thinking about her parents, the outside world, and the life she had before she became a Witch's apprentice.

And for a while she remembered these details as she coughed several times. All those sleepless nights and fatigue were taking their toll, and perhaps also because of her negligence she might have bled and let the siphons to reach her injury. The force of the table and the kick she received earlier sent horrid spasms through her muscles like a hammer being smashed through the bones on her rib. She could not think of anything more than the name of her master and the pain she was dealing with.

Her own impotence and the ineptitude to even stand made everything painful than it already is. A shard from the flasks had pierced her back and maybe some stream, the trickle from various chemicals already found their ways to her bloodstream. It's as if all the teachings that Eula passed to her disappeared. Why didn't she lock the shelf?

Two men came to help her. Faustina felt an overwhelming sense of bewilderment as soldiers circled over Jonathan. Fire was all over the place. The thunderbolt—is this what it caused? She scanned the spectacle.

Then she remembered.

Jonathan is a warlock.

Her breath hitched as her thoughts suspended when her gaze found an unrivaled force, something that made her feel something she has never felt before; an undistinguishable feeling of relief and fascination.

A man with a platinum-blond hair; pale moonlight was lighting the hair's individual strand. The man was wearing something closely different to the High Knight armor—appearance and air so different from the rest. He has the air of someone that spoke of a higher race, perchance. His eyes were the color of bright blue, like sapphire jewels. Their gazes met—and locked. Both of them stared at each other for a brief moment, before he shifted his gaze to the warlock with a glowering gaze.

"Lady, can you stand up?" Asks a man with a brown, rust-colored hair. His locks were curled and tousled like a bird's nest. Amidst the dark of the night, he looked like a warm, scorching flame. Faustina felt dizzy—nauseous, even. All these people were confusing her. She felt fickle, which may be because of the trickle of chemical to her bloodstream, or just because her body felt too numb and weak.

"Goodness, Eula... what do we have here." Jonathan said through the mayhem as he turned to the man with the platinum-blond hair, "such a pleasant interruption, King Alexander!"

King Alexander? Faustina wanted to say aloud. She turned to the man Jonathan called 'King.'

"Jonathan." Says the man silently. It was so odd. Even in the silence of his voice, Faustina could hear him clearly—like a calm stream of a river flowing gently. Faustina never saw someone who seemed so calm over such chaos.

"Jonathan, one of the High Warlock of the Seven Seas." He says calmly. "Return to the Court and atone for your sins."

"Myyy. King Alexander," Jonathan said in a sing-song manner. "You still speak of monotonous words. It does not fit you, Your Majesty."

King Alexander drew his sword. The sword has a golden finial with intricate patterns that were embedded and glistening from the moonlight. Its hilt is a lustrous silver marked with ancient languages. The blade is a peculiar transparent diamond. A crystal-clear weapon. Faustina never seen anything like it before.

"Oh... the Sword of Feuersturm." Jonathan said, even he looked surprise. "I must congratulate you, My King. You acquired such treasure your ancestors have long desired. You—and you alone!" He laughed maniacally, like a lunatic. Jonathan embraced Eula, so tightly he was shaking.

"I can't believe it. A Heilen blood, the king himself, the Sword of Feuersturm." He said as he cried, "oh! The prophecies, the prophecies... Eula, Eula... Eula!"

"Jonathan of the High Warlocks. Return to the court and atone." King Alexander says as he turned the point of his blade to Jonathan.

The smile of Jonathan slowly turned into a vicious scowl.

"Can you not see, Your Majesty, how grand this moment is?"

Alexander gave no reply. "I will spare you no mercy."

"I will not shed blood. For my dear Eula." He says, as his gaze drifted to Faustina. "For my dear Faustina as well."

Faustina shivered with his words—and then suddenly, with the spark of a second, a loud thunderbolt seized the entirety of the ground. Rain poured heavily from the skies as the sound of rainwater plummeting through the chest plates of the knights and soldiers echoed against the silence.

"On the count of three. I will permit you to run."

King Alexander tightened his grip to his sword, "Take the maiden away from here!" he commands. And the dutiful men that they were, cavalries and soldiers marched to carry Faustina away while the two High Knights and soldiers stood by the king's side.

"My master—" Faustina cried as she screamed whilst the horses ran to take her away from the battlefield, "put me down! please!"

Her plea and sobs drowned along with the heavy rain. Faustina saw how by time she was farther away from home. From the blazing fire and the sound of the shaking ground in the distance where Eula is.

She screamed and struggled in terror like a butchered animal as she watched her home be inhabited with agonizing echoes of battle cry, screams and bloodshed.