A high Fantasy epic in short story form
“When your father is King, and he commands you to go… Well… Here I am.”
“A man willing to sacrifice his own son for a weapon is no father. He is not even a man.” Yorba comments.
“That’s treason. Be careful who hears those words.” Aero warns.
“The truth shouldn’t be treason, that is why we must abolish the monarchy. The crown has failed the people for centuries. It’s the last relic of the old age.”
In the morning the group is awoken to the sound of thunder. A rain day.
Matthew wakes up long enough to hear the rain, but quickly crashes. These rare rain days allow him to catch up on sleeping.
Most of the group remain in their tents.
“Our people do not owe you any allegiance, you will not be king.”
“How exactly did you make that shot?” Matthew blurts out between sips.
“Bloodline magic, I never miss.”
“Please do me one favor!” Roasa asks.
“Name it ma’am.” Stephan responds.
“Bring back the horned one alive, so I can kill him myself.”
Relics of the Old Age