Read Titanlord free: the opening of Book One

Prologue

It was a quiet day in the Capital. Trees danced at the waving winds, which gently played on the passing citizens. There was only the sound of children playing, buzzing and filling the place with life. Parents watched from the nearby shade, resting and confident in the security of their children’s lives.

Not a single arrow had touched the walls of the Capital for hundreds of years, and those who reveled in the glory of the king became arrogant, as none would even dare to think about revolting or waging war against them. Their might was fierce, as was their strength.

In the middle of the street walked a man accompanied by imperials. Glorified guards, it was they who kept the world in check, but even in their presence the man was drenched in sweat.

It was not the weather, nor was he panting for lack of stamina. It was the letter he clutched in his hands that gave weight to his step and fear to his heart as he made his way to the Capital gates.

“Hail, Captain!” the sentries cried. They struck their feet on the ground in unison, a sign of great respect. They stepped aside and opened the gates.

Drenched in sweat, the captain barged in, pausing only when he was confronted with a great door.

“Stay here,” he commanded the imperials.

He pushed through the reinforced steel door to reveal the throne. On it sat the most powerful man in the kingdom, some would even say the world.

“It took you long enough!” the king cried.

Neither young nor old, he was dressed in the finest silks and adorned with golden rings. His curly hair rivaled the white winter snows. He wasted no time and signaled with his hand. “Well? What did you learn?”

The man took slow steps, but they were steady. He halted in front of the chair.

“The rebellion is over.”

All gathered in the chamber gave a great cheer. They shouted their congratulations and reveled in the victory as if they had been on the battlefield. Such was their joy, they almost forgot that they were in the presence of the King.

“Silence!” the King shouted at them with the full force of his lungs. “If the rebellion is over, then how come your face is as pale as this room?” he asked.

“The Red Hand lives,” the man said reluctantly, and immediately the cries of celebrations ceased, and an aura of doubt lurked in the surroundings.

The King, quite taken back by these words. Soon, rage overtook shock as he struck the sides of the throne with his hands so hard as to break the skin.

“How could you let this him live? Was it not insulting enough that his puny force managed to push through as much as it did? And now you stand before me with this smug look on your face, and you tell me he lives . . . he lives!” the King roared enough to make the marble walls glitter in shock, striking the throne again.

“Sire, we believe he only got as far as he did because of a traitor among us. He had access to important information . . . food supplies, troop movements, it was as if he was always ten steps ahead of . . .”

“Hold your tongue, Sebastian! You say these things as if you enjoyed fighting him!”

“War does not excite me, sire, serving you does.” Sebastian said.

“Then how is it the Red Hand lives yet? Why is his head not on a spike on the city walls yet? Why . . . why,” he struck the throne a third time, and then silence loomed. Tension filled the air as all those gathered warily watched the King.

The King, panted, grasping for whatever air he could muster. He finally took a deep breath and sighed. “You will find me whoever supplied him with information, and I want their head next to his right here,” he cried yet again.

Sebastian nodded and bowed. As he turned to exit the court, his grip tightened on the letter.

The King stood and began to descend the throne, the anger still evident on his face.

“I will catch this fool and cast him down, as my fathers did the Titans. Mark my words!” he cried to the ones gathered. “You hear me, Sebastian? Do not show your face here without their heads!”

Chapter 1: The First Sword

: The First Sword

Palleria was known to be a village that gave birth to many heroes of old. Though it was mostly a village that was known for its love for peace, the heroes it bred sprung around destruction just as much. Myths and tales of their ancient bravery never seem to be short in the history books, some had viewed it as a threat to the crown, but its loyalty had never wavered.

For hundreds of years, the reign of the Magmar dynasty knew only peace built on fear and respect. The current King Magmar the Thirteen was known to spare the opposing faction only if their King and all of their commanders surrender and bow to him in their own home capital in front of the entire population.

With that tradition, nearly all of those who opposed the Crown disappeared as they were absorbed into the culture. This was but a beautiful day in the peaceful village of Palleria.

“The ancient history books speak of seven entities, whether they be divine or not, has been a debate for hundreds of years. It is said that any man that can strike the fatal blow to one, gains their power,” said Mein, he was old and wore a dark gray robe that only showed his eyes and long gray beard.

The class grew in silence as they took in every bit of his words. Palleria has been known to keep a great deal of history of the ancient lore, and as such this was a tale that all children grew up with, cherished the thought that one day they too may possess the strength to change the world.

“Master Mein . . . Are the titans real?” asked one of the children.

“No one knows, the last recorded incident of their existence is before the time of the Magmars. The story says that King Magmar the First raised an army and challenged them for the right to the very earth. Some say that he slew two of the seven titans, and gained the Strength and the Voice.”

“What do they do?”

Mein took a deep sigh, he could not blame them for their excitement. “It is said that the Titan of Strength grants its slayer immense powers, he could lift a rock the size of a mountain. And the Voice is when you hear the souls of a hundred ancient lords counseling you on every matter.”

“What happened then?” they asked.

“Well . . . King Magmar soared through the armies of the remaining Titans and slew them all, liberating the world, and well, the books of history stop there. That would be enough for today. If any of you-” Mein noticed a student that was looking across seeming lost in thought.

“Vendel? Were you even listening to me, darling?” Asked Mein as he walked over to her, placing his gnarled hand on her desk.

“Yes, master Mein!” replied Vendel. She was sixteen years of age. She was slim, her body was slightly curved and she had hazel, deep brown eyes that sat in her eye pockets. Her hair was long and deep brown that matched her eyes, but had flickers of blonde towards the end.

Master Mein took a pause and let out a sigh. “Look, I know you’re excited about joining the military, but you must focus on your studies first. Conquerors are often good thinkers Vendel, don’t you ever forget that.”

Just as master Mein finished his sentence, the bell rang signaling the end of the school day. The bell was very large that its ringing could be heard in every corner of the village, it was at the center.

“I won’t forget that! I promise!” said Vendel as she stormed out in a hurry, making her way towards the village barracks.

Palleria had a tradition that welcomed anyone once they reach the sixteen mark. They could be trained by the First Sword in order to join the Militia responsible for keeping the village safe from any bandit attacks.

The First Sword was a woman, Rory she was called, and was always made fun of for choosing the path that she did. Many did not take her seriously, but after a great showing in the last wave of bandit attacks, everyone agreed that she should assume the title and train the newcomers. All people who had an urge to learn sword mastership longed to be tutored by her.

Vendel passed by a waiting crowd and bumped into a guy, knocking his food basket over. “Sorry!”

“Ven? Why are you running off like this?”

“Griff? What are you doing here anyways?” she said, before going down to help him pick his food basket off the ground.

“I heard that Rory is coming for a public showing of combat, and I,” he paused and took a deep breath. “Cannot wait to see her in action,” he added, as his pupils dialted.

Vendel gave him a light punch on his right shoulder. “For a scrawny guy, you sure are one big pervert!” she teased him.

“What!” Griffyn said, as he flickered his black hair that covered his eyes. Though it wasn’t short, it wasn’t long either. “Tales of her beauty are all over the kingdom! Everyone wants to see her.”

“Oh, whatever you say to make yourself sleep at night Griff! I’m going, are you coming?” Vendel asked, as she locked gaze with his deep hazel eyes.

“Of course.”

The two began to juggle very quickly where a huge crowd was gathered. It must have been at least a few hundred, all gathered to witness the Combat Showing. Where the First Sword engages in a few practice matches against anyone who challenges them. At the center of the crowd, was a man in a brown robe, he was very fragile and had a long white beard.

“Thank you, thank you . . . today, we are gathered ere’ to witness first hand, the greatness of First Sword Rory,” the person said. “She is known to be among the finest swordsmen in the kingdom, so gentlemen, whoever wants to challenge ‘er, need only to say aye.”

“Aye!” the whole crowd shouted, to the disappointment of the elder.

“We outta take this matter seriously, you perverts will have the luxury of seeing the most beautiful woman in Palleria fight, and all you sick morons can think of, is how to get her to suck your cocks,” said a man who pushed a few of the gathered to come face the elder. The man was tall, and had a very large scar covering his left eye. He wore black armor that had a flaming red dragon centered at the center of his breastplate.

“Aizeya . . .” Vendel whispered.

“Who’s he?” Griffyn asked.

“Aizeya the Black Dog of Death he is called. People say that he goes city to city looking for the best to fight, and also that he has never lost a battle,” replied Vendel.

“Goodness . . . he looks like he ate all the cities he went to.”

Vendel let out a small laugh, before punching Griffyn again.

“So, what says you Elder? Would First Sword Rory accept my challenge? Surly there is no one better to test her might against, and silence her critics who claim she is where she is only because she fucked a few men.”

“Watch your tongue Aizeya . . . you will speak with respect among us,” the Elder said.

“Respect? Here? You all remember how the traitor grew up in this village do you not? You want me to respect you? Then make me,” he replied.

“Umm, what is he talking about again Ven?” asked Griffyn.

“You never pay attention . . . The traitor . . . was a fierce warrior who led two hundred men, he was born here . . . He was called the Red Hand.”

“The Red . . . what?”?

“The Red Hand. People say that after a battle, he would show up, and his hand would turn into red from the blood of his enemies that were scattered on it. To this day, he is the only person who has ever beaten Aizeya in single combat.”

“Someone clearly needs to teach you some manners.”

The crowd all turned to where the voice was coming from. A thin lady wearing light armor soon stepped from the shadows, and stood right beside the elder. She had an exotic short but curly red hair that was sprinkled with brands of gold. Her eyes were dart gray that one glare into them, would be enough to seduce most men. But Aizeya was no mere man.

“At last, you show yourself, Rory.”

“What is someone like you doing in somewhere like this?” asked Rory.

“I’ve travelled all the way just to meet you Rory, tales of your elegant form fall short of your beauty,” said Aizeya, before giving a small bow.

“Spare me your flattery.” She said, before taking out her double swords from her back. The sound it made, drove the crowd to the sheer threshold of excitement. “Draw your weapon, Black Dog.”

Aizeya smirked, and drew his large axe that was so big that a normal person could not even hold the end of it. Yet Aizeya’s strong two hands managed to keep it at bay. He played with it as if a child plays with a wooden stick.

“Let’s see if your form, is as elegant as the rumors,” he said before charging like a mad goat. He swung his axe from the right, but Rory used both swords to halt his attack. “Are you mad?” she said before looking at the elder who was almost hit by the attack. “Get away from here.”

“So what if I am? You want to protect them? Then do your best to stop me!” he said, pressing all of his weight on his axe.

The elder managed to get away just in time, but Rory was driven to the ground.

Just as her body touched the dirt, she swiveled around, catching herself with her hands, then lifting her body in the air, only to stand on her two feet again.

“Charging like a mad dog? Your title really suits you.”

Aizeya marched towards Rory without any sign of hesitation, lunging his axe towards her.

Rory elegantly flew to his right before striking the back of his left knee, forcing him to the ground. In a flash, she struck his face with the flat of both her swords. It was enough to knock him down on his belly.

“Power means little here, Black Dog.”

The crowd cheered their champion, but she was not finished. Her muscles tensed even more. She knew that the Black Dog hated to be humiliated and that it would only prompt him to retaliate even more ferociously. She crossed her dual swords and pointed them towards him.

Aizeya had not let go of his axe, and while he was on the ground, he used all of his brute strength to drive the back of it in a swing, knocking Rory down.

“Enough!” the Elder cried.

Both got up and shook the dirt from their bodies.

“The match, ends in a draw.”

“A draw? Well, I guess it is your village after all. One cannot help but abide by your rules,” said Aizeya as he removed the last bits of dirt covering his left shoulder.

“You like to act so strong, don’t you? Well, you weren’t strong when you were on your knees begging for mercy against the Red Hand, were you?” cried Vendel.

With that, the whole crowd grew silent. The Elder and Rory rolled their eyes towards her with their mouth open in disbelief. Had this child the bravery to say what everyone wanted to, but couldn’t? Perhaps, but Aizeya was not amused.

“You little wretched fiend!” he shouted before lunging at her, pushing away everyone in his path to her. He grabbed her by her neck and lifted her into the air.

“Let her go!” cried Griffyn. As he tried to punch Aizeya in the stomach left and right, he could feel the life going out of Vendel’s body.

“Enough Aizeya!” shouted Rory before striking the middle of Aizeya’s elbow. He immediately released his grip on Vendel, sending her crashing to the ground, holding her neck.

“What is this? Are you breeding traitorous lies here? Do you not teach your kids the truth about him? How he rebelled against the crown and marched to the Capital with an army?” said Aizeya. He looked at Rory for a moment, and shifted his eyes towards the Elder.

“That was a . . .”

“A joke. She did not mean it,” interrupted the Elder as he came close to Aizeya. “On behalf of all Palleria, I most humbly beg pardon for this child.”

The Elder got on his knees and prostrated in front of the Black Dog. Aizeya kept staring at the Elder, and then took a final glare at Vendel, whom Rory stood in front of.

“Pitiful . . . just pitiful . . .” said Aizeya. He tilted his head to the right, and spat on the ground. “There’s your honor. Traitors.” With no other words, he walked away, leaving the crowd behind him.

Griffyn pulled Rory’s arm. “Thank you for saving Vendel . . .”

Rory was moved so much by his words that she felt tears rise up in her eyes. She patted him on the shoulder. “Next time, keep her mouth shut, or I’ll do it for her,” she said with a smile on her face.

Griffyn did not know what to make of it, but simply nodded.

Rory began to move towards the exit. “The show is over. Go home,” she said.

“Rory . . . will you be all right, my dear?” asked the Elder. Rory pretended not hear his question and kept walking.

The Elder frowned, and walked towards Vendel. “And you little lady, what am I to make of you?”

That was the prologue, and the first of sixteen chapters.