Chapter 14: Fireworks Behind the Wall
Dusk cast its orange veil across the capital, but Xebec's heart remained heavy, like a storm-burdened sky. Since returning from the north, the palace had changed. The servants spoke more softly. The guards stared at him longer, as if trying to read his thoughts. And the nobles... they moved like shadows, searching for cracks to strike through.
Xebec stood on the western tower balcony, gazing down at the palace gardens where Nanea was training her small battalion. His sister was growing into a true leader—strong, sharp, and fearless.
"She'd make a better heir," Xebec murmured.
> "But she didn't save the kingdom back then. You did," said a voice behind him.
Xebec turned. Astrid stood in the doorway, her silver hair shimmering in the evening light. She wasn't wearing her formal gown today, but a light traveling outfit, with a small sword at her hip.
> "You heard that?" Xebec asked.
> "You were talking to yourself, like a lonely soul," Astrid replied, sitting on the balcony rail. "You know, that's how kings usually start."
Xebec gave a faint smile.
> "Maybe it's how madmen start."
Astrid looked up at him, eyes lingering.
> "Don't let the world drive you mad before your time, Prince. If you fall apart, who else am I supposed to laugh at?"
They shared a brief laugh. But it died quickly when a distant explosion echoed across the sky. Black smoke rose from the palace's eastern wall.
> "What—?!" Xebec cried, bolting into action. Astrid followed without hesitation.
In the eastern courtyard, the ground was scorched and torn. Several guards lay motionless, their bodies charred. From the cracks in the earth emerged hooded figures in black robes, masked and armed with weapons pulsing with dark magic.
> "Baal's forces..." Astrid hissed. "Inside the palace?"
Xebec said nothing. He had already drawn his sword. The wind whipped wildly around him. Magic aura and sword aura merged. Blue flames ignited from the edge of his blade—a true Swordmaster's aura.
> "You've chosen the wrong place to die," he whispered coldly.
He leapt forward, slicing two attackers in a single arc. His aura cracked the wall behind them. One of Baal's mages raised a hand to summon a vortex of dark lightning, but Xebec slashed vertically—shattering the energy instantly.
Astrid held off three enemies on her own, her movements swift and precise. But Xebec's focus was on one figure: the leader, standing atop a shattered pillar, clad in a blood-red robe.
> "The fated prince. Your end is near," said the figure with an inhuman voice.
> "Who are you?" Xebec asked quietly.
> "I… am the forerunner of what is to come. And you, Xebec von Phillipe… are merely a stepping stone."
Xebec leapt onto the pillar. The wind howled. They fought in midair—clashes of sword aura and dark magic turned the sky above the palace into a whirlpool of colors. Some nobles watching from afar screamed in fear.
But in the end, with a roar of fury, Xebec slammed his sword into the ground. A blast of light swept through the eastern courtyard. His enemies were burned to ash. Pillars crumbled. A part of the palace wall collapsed, but the attack had been repelled.
Blood dripped from Xebec's temple. He stood tall, staring at the sky, now returning to its clear state. Astrid approached, helping him stand despite nearly collapsing herself.
> "Idiot," she said gently.
> "I know…" Xebec chuckled softly. "But at least I'm an idiot who didn't run."
Far above, in the tallest window of the palace, King Phillipe watched with a grim face. Behind the curtain, Duke Malefic grinned faintly.
---
As the battlefield in the eastern courtyard settled, Xebec leaned against the fractured wall. His breath was still heavy, his shoulders rising and falling, blood from his forehead wound starting to dry. Beside him, Astrid kept watch, despite her own injuries.
> "Baal's forces made it this far..." Xebec muttered. "That means their spies are deeper than we thought."
> "Or someone let them in," Astrid replied, her gaze sharp toward the main palace. "Someone… inside."
Xebec lowered his head, eyes narrowing. He knew who Astrid meant.
Footsteps approached. It was Nanea—fully armored, with two elite swordsmen behind her. Her expression was fierce, her eyes showing that she was beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation.
> "I just came from the western barracks. Ten casualties. Seven dead. Lieutenant Heras among them."
Xebec's face hardened. Heras was one of the few old soldiers who had once saved his life as a child—a loyal veteran.
> "They'll pay for this," Xebec said coldly, rage simmering in his voice.
But before anyone could reply, a faint red glow appeared in the sky. Clouds spun into a small vortex above the southern tower. In an instant, a flaming symbol appeared—the mark of Baal—then vanished.
Astrid stared intently.
> "That's... a warning. They're not done."
> "They were testing our shield," Xebec said. "And we… just showed them the cracks."
Nanea stepped closer and handed Xebec a scroll.
> "Found this on their leader's body," she said. "Written in blood. Addressed… to you."
Xebec unrolled it. The writing was jagged, filled with demonic glyphs.
"We await you at the Throne of Bone. Come to us, or we will come for you. And for your crown."
—The Herald
Xebec's face turned cold. He gripped the scroll tightly, his hand trembling.
> "What will you do?" Astrid asked softly.
Xebec looked to the darkening sky.
> "I'll go. But this time… they'll be the ones afraid."
Elsewhere, in the palace's underground corridors, Grand Duke Theral stood before Duke Malefic.
> "Are you certain of your choice, Theral?" Malefic asked, sipping dark wine.
> "After tonight? Without question." Theral stared at the fire in the hearth. "Xebec is too dangerous. And I'm too close to the throne to back away now."
Duke Malefic smiled—a thin smile, with dark magic glinting at its edges.
Grand Duke Theral stood in the shadows beside Duke Malefic. The firelight flickered dimly, illuminating Theral's aged face, torn between worry and obsession.
> "Xebec has become a Swordmaster," Malefic whispered.
> "He'll be a greater threat than his father ever was," Theral answered. "Too much of the people's hope is starting to rest on him."
> "And if the crown falls into his hands, he'll be hard to unseat."
> "Then we must take him down... before that happens."
Theral stared at an old carving on the wall—an ancient mural in demonic script. It depicted a silver-eyed king betrayed and stabbed by his own friend.
> "King Phillipe is too old," Theral whispered. "And I'm tired of waiting for a legacy that never comes."
Meanwhile, in another tower, Nanea stood gazing at the moon. In her hand, an intercepted secret message burned slowly. At the top was one name:
"Bastian von Phillipe — The Marker has activated."
Nanea's face turned pale. The ink on the letter began to burn on its own and vanished into the night wind.
---
To be continued…