Remnant of a Bloodline - Prologue
By RJcreatives
- 518 reads
Prologue
‘There are many things which can be considered an extension of the soul. Some feel most at home as they stroke their thumb against their wedding ring. Others may find a sense of power whilst wearing an expensive robe or a crown. But me, I cannot imagine a day where I would be without the overshadowing expectations which have befallen me by nature. When I think of what I must become, and what I am constantly compared to, it makes my stomach turn. Oh how it makes me cringe, knowing, and forever remembering that I will never be what the people of my land imagine me to be. This so called ‘birthright’ is the extension of myself.
Of course, just because I cannot rise to my mantel, does not mean I cannot gain the lands respect through fear and rumour. My name has fallen into forgotten or deceased memory, and so they call me the Shadow. A fitting title for a man of my profession. A profession which relies on living in the shade, keeping my identity and actions a mystery to all and any who seek to learn of me. Though most importantly, detaching myself from everything I should be.
Regardless of my efforts and my caution, I find myself here, on my knees with my hands in shackles, with chilling, cool blades by my neck, in the presence of the King who rules over this Continent. He sits there with a smile across his wrinkled face, back straightened against the support of his extravagant throne. He doesn’t know what I can see though. He has no idea that I see the slight twitch of fear in the corner of his mouth, or that the pained look in his eyes tells me all I need to know about my reason for being here.
The scent of freshly forged iron fills my nose as the guards shuffle their blades against my skin, reminding me that I am at their mercy. The light spreads across them nicely, yet to me it reveals small imperfections, weak points in their structure. Even with my hands bound I can easily disarm slaughter everyone in this hall. They think they are safe, bundled into their reinforced armour, their faces hidden with, I must admit, desirable silk patches. But they know nothing of me. Nothing of my name, my skills, my wishes or my moral compass.
So why are they alive? The answer to that is thankfully simple to explain and to understand. I am a freelancer, and this King could become my next client. You have the white pieces on the board, your highness, make your move.’
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Comments
A great hook at the start
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