Amidst the cries of the newborn baby, strange sounds emanated from those in the throne room. It seemed like a mixture of pronounced astonishment and sympathy from those behind the guards.
It appeared that the sword would pierce the central part of the emperor’s abdomen, but at the last moment, Saron almost evaded. Due to the tremendous speed at which Megal’s sword pierced his side, Saron recoiled sharply, dropping to one knee. It was evident that the strike had caused intense pain. While Megal’s sword was still partially embedded in Saron’s side, Megal, having just landed from the jump, delivered a kick of incredible force to Saron’s torso, causing the emperor to fall, further shattering Megal’s sword into his side. Megal pulled his sword out of the marble floor, where it was embedded from the force of the throw, and intended to deliver a final, crushing blow. However, despite the serious injury, Saron performed a backward somersault, and Megal missed, striking the sword into the floor.
It seemed as if Saron had stopped feeling pain altogether, yet he was bleeding profusely. This seemed to anger Megal. This time, Megal, fueled by his own warrior’s roar, went on the offensive, and his blows were already pushing Saron back. These strikes were not as fast as those of the wounded emperor, but they were slightly more powerful. The emperor did his best to contain these devastating blows, parrying one after another, but over time, it became increasingly difficult – the bleeding wound was taking its toll.
Blow after blow became stronger and stronger. Megal realized that if he struck harder, sooner or later, Saron would run out of breath and make a fatal mistake. Megal began to strike with all his might, and Saron tried desperately to repel the increasingly powerful blows, deflecting one after another. However, with time, this became more and more challenging – the bleeding wound was making it difficult.
Megal understood that if he hit harder, sooner or later, Saron would make a fatal mistake. Megal started to strike with all his might, and Saron tried desperately to repel the increasingly powerful blows. Eventually, the blows overwhelmed Saron. Megal grasped that if he struck harder, Saron would inevitably make a mistake. Megal swung with all his might, and although Saron desperately tried to parry the blow, the emperor’s guard finally broke. Megal’s strike hit Saron with tremendous force, knocking the sword out of his hands. Megal’s sword partially cut through Saron’s torso, and the emperor fell right next to the throne.
Once again, those present made those peculiar sounds.
“And that’s it? I thought you’d last longer,” Megal said. “Maybe you should have worn armor?”
“You were without a helmet and breastplate too, so it’s fair,” Saron replied, breathing heavily.
The emperor crawled on one arm as Megal leisurely approached him, leaning his back against the base of the throne.
– Fight! – Mirana cried out in tears, but it was too late. Emperor Saron had lost too much blood. The initial wound proved too severe for this battle, and active movement only accelerated the bleeding.
– Please, spare them! – Saron pleaded.
– Sorry, but you’re asking for too much… – Megal replied.
– Please… spare their lives… at least my son.
– Well, if that’s your last wish… – Megal said. – So be it. I’ll let him experience what life is like. But to prevent your lineage from reaching the throne, I will fight him when he turns sixteen.
Emperor Saron turned his head towards the empress, but she was no longer there. He looked at his brother and smiled faintly.
– You’ve paled, brother, – King Megal said and thrust his sword into his brother’s chest.
Saron seemed not to feel the sword plunged into his chest. The brothers locked eyes, and King Megal pulled the sword from his brother’s chest. Emperor Saron began to choke on his own blood.
The young King Megal turned away from his brother, surveyed everyone in the throne room, and declared:
– Now, I am your emperor! – and everyone present bowed to the new emperor.
Silence fell in the hall, and Megal sat on the throne, while beside him, leaning against the base of the throne, lay his brother bleeding out.
CHAPTER 2 “CONFESSIONS OF AN EXILE”
From my earliest years, I understood that I wasn’t quite a prince, although that’s exactly what they called me. It felt like mockery. Every time I asked about my parents, I was told they had died, and now I was under the care of Emperor Megal – my uncle. If I inquired further about how… Well… Then, I was told they perished in battle, heroically fighting for what they believed in.
This continued for quite some time until, at the age of nine, I requested an audience with my uncle. It was so nerve-wracking. Until that moment, I had only seen him once when he was being celebrated by all the residents of Illyrion. No wonder. The war that lasted five years after the great schism had ended, as he reunited the empire. He swayed the neutral kingdoms to his side and regained control of the ancestral kingdom – Reyneia. Unfortunately, at that time, I could only observe it from the castle balcony. I was never allowed close to him. The national celebration in honor of the reunification lasted three days. I only know that many important figures arrived in Illyrion because I spent the entire festivity locked in a room in the castle. After the celebration, my uncle went to war again, this time for four years. And now he’s finally back in the capital. Another victory, but not another conquered kingdom. More precisely, after looting it, he simply leveled the overseas kingdom to the ground, seemingly leaving no trace. Like Emperor Zhol did with Forsia once. When he returned after this war, the people in Illyrion greeted him again with cheers, but I’m not sure if they were the same cheers and ovations for victory as four years ago. Still, everyone unquestionably feared and respected him. This time, there was no festive celebration. And now, I am finally approaching my uncle, accompanied by guards, a couple of servants, and my chief teacher – Magister Lemna.
As I reach the gates, my teacher tells me not to contradict him under any circumstances, and the guards open the doors to the throne room. Before us stood military commanders and some wealthy citizens of the city. Perhaps they were engaged in an active dialogue with my uncle, but as soon as I entered, everyone fell silent. My uncle, the emperor, with a serious expression, surveyed these people, me, and those who came with me, and said, “Leave us!” It was amusing; everyone immediately disappeared, closing all doors behind them. Then I became a little scared and bewildered. There were too many thoughts in my head. And then he said, “What have they taught you while I was busy? Have you become strong?”
And I replied, “I was taught the art of war, sciences, and the basics of magic.”
He asked, “In what have you excelled?”
And I said, “I enjoy history and astrology.”
He responded, “I didn’t ask what you like. I asked, ‘What are you good at?’ ‘What are your accomplishments?’”
Out of confusion, all I could blurt out was, “Why did my parents die?” This question had haunted me for too long.
“Well, I see you were taught nothing, or you learned nothing,” he replied with a menacing tone, then rose from the throne and said, “I killed your father right here. And your mother… It seems she’s also dead, as there has been no news of her for a long time. But I didn’t see her corpse… Anyway, by my order, enough people throughout the empire were killed who could have helped her. They all went against the empire, against their own people – and paid for it with their lives. The entire empire was horrified. It’s a pity I personally couldn’t enjoy all those moments – I was busy with the war.”
By that moment, being a young boy, I was almost in tears. I knew the “great schism” didn’t happen