Come home Young One

By Louis Bruno

In Louis Bruno's first fantasy novel, Come Home, Young One, is about a young child raised by an old king, Engmar, but the dark child's birth is shrouded in multiple stories, and characters who have there own drama as they enter the dark child's journey to kill his dark father whom he has never met. Along the way, questions arise, and each character reveals there tale, and what brings them together in the Dark Child's journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781667175447

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1

The introduction of King Angmar, his children, and Queen Lamonge

The Dark Child

King Silus and the Formation of Engmar

King Agmar and Asteroth

Leaving the baby on the castle steps

Prince Iris’s arrival

The Origin of Fairy Tales

The Creation of the Elves

Killing the Child

Returning to Serena

Twenty Years Later

The 100 Years War

The Hooded Figure

Returning to the Present

Prince Angmar the Second learns of his origins

The gargantuan meets Prince Angmar the Second another time

Meeting Princess Emilia

A Secret Marriage

His grandfather comes to visit him again

Clearing out the Goblin Nest

Lord Ismal’s Night Raid

A Prayer for a Dead Elk

Descent into the Tunnel of the Elders

Jerim’s Past

In the lands of green countryside and bucolic dreams, where woodland creatures and peaceable people live in splendid multitude, a castle reigns over the dominion of Engmar. A castle led by King Agmar, had three children. Two, Prince Leon and Kingston, were direct descendants, and the youngest, was adopted from the alleys. That day never grew tired of telling. The peasants were holding up children that were rejected from their mothers. King Agmar was walking through the town with his wife, Queen Lamonge.

Why are we walking these streets?

The street was strewn with decrepit earth; brown and red clay where the peasants wrestled over their pieces of bread. But King Agmar duty remained to feed his kingdom. Everyone, even the vagabonds, were able to eat a meal. No one was ever thrown out of a tavern.

Everyone stopped walking, and bowed to the King and Queen Engmar. The crowd of surfs bowed with honor, too.

King Agmar waved them on.

Please good men and women. Rise. You are my shield, and I love you all. You are the sole reason why my country lives. You are all good people, and I live through your vicariousness.

The women fainted at King Angmar’s compliment, and they saw the blacksmith bowing his head in holy reverence. Even the country priest smiled from the compliment.

Such the noble king. Even Queen Lamonge held no bitterness or unfairness in her voice.

But you are all royalty.

They clapped and gave King Angmar due praise. The woman kissed his hand adorned with rings dedicated to his past; those of royalty and loyalty of the lands surrounding Engmar.

The women gave King Agmar their children to kiss, and he planted each on their cheeks. King Agmar gave them bread at the local soup kitchen. His children were taught to respect people and live to help people. Queen Lamonge always smiled at King Agmar’s principles shining through her husbands eyes. Her lips were beautiful roses that no man could ever kiss, except for the King.

Your queen is so beautiful. An elderly man said to Queen Lamonge.

Why, thank you. Queen Lamonge said.

Give your wife a kiss.

Queen Lamonge blushed; King Agmar leaned his head sideways, and kissed his beautiful wife. She was so fair and beautiful, while his tanned and rough natured skin touched her soft face.

The crowd roared with excitement and love. The town kitchen continued to hand out soup to the poor in honor of Agmar’s presence, but one person held a small baby to him.

What is this?

The baby was kicking and screaming with love and fairness. It was crying, his nudity outstanding, was a powerful sight to behold.

Please. Why do you give this baby to me?

This baby was cursed. You must give this baby a good home.

Who was this babies father and child?

No one spoke. The whole town became filled with fear.

It was from the Lands of Resteroth.

He didn’t need to say anything. Grimacing cracks filled the kings face. He knew one thing to fear, and it was the Lands of Resteroth.

The good townsmen spoke over the uncomfortable silence. It’s a terrible land. A place full of hate and horror.

King Angmar had heard of it only through legend.

But we can’t put this baby in our home.

Queen Lamonge put her hands on the child, and he kicked his feet in the air. He seemed alive and happiness shined a small luster in his belly.

He seems normal.

She held the baby, and it stared into her eyes. She smiled at the nude child’s presence.

Please, take this young child in. For the child’s sake.

We can’t merely take this child off the streets. King Agmar said.

The crowd looked displeased.

Why can’t anyone else take him in?

Because it is King Resteroths child.

This stopped everyone short, as they took a short breath. They could not push themselves to speak without holding their breath out of fear for King Resteroth’s name.

That is a lie. He does not seem so foul.

I have decided, Queen Lamonge spoke, that we shall take the child.

But we can’t. We have to think about our kingdom.

I see something in this boy. She brought the small child to her chest, and stared deeply into his eyes. The boys eyes resembled a small killer, but his face was as gentle as a lamb.

I do feel this small boy shall do some great things.

But nothing good can come out of Resteroth.

I shall hear no more. We shall take the child in and raise it as our own.

King Agmar could not believe it. But he listened to Queen Lamonge because he was a good king. A good king never disobeyed the laws his wife had created. They were both equal partners because it wasn’t just the king who made the laws. The Queen decided which laws would be best for the Lands of Engmar, and this was her law.

When they returned the nurses saw the child. They didn’t know what to call it, recoiling at fear of the child. But Queen Lamonge knew the name all along. But she wanted to keep it to herself. King Engmar wanted to know, but Queen Lamonge was interested in living in a veil made of her own beatified amusement. She was such a beautiful woman who held the child, whispered words of encouragement. Encouragement to a child could only mean living in praise of his mother. But he could never keep his sons away from their mother. But the good king Angmar could never question his wife or keep his children away from their mother.

She sang beautiful songs that were heard throughout the castle.

Lay me next to you

Dear child

I know you scream

But you are not mild

In dreams you see the world.

Your father, dark prince,

Knows your true worth.

But always know that we are

Your true parents.

This did not stop King Angmar from visiting his study. He had only heard of Resteroth in legend, but his library had never touched the dark works of Angmar. His father, King Angmar the 1st, always told tales about the lands he never saw. He had heard that the lands were forsaken by King Resteroth, who was very handsome at first.

He was a truly smart man who had treated his lands with tolerance and fealty. Only, as his father described it in his bed time stories, that the king grew too obsessed with the Dark Aura. The Dark Aura was never explained, and he had little reason to believe his father did not know, but the Dark Aura turned all unusually fair to intolerably cruel. The trees that once bore beautiful apples and luscious pears had turned into rotted fruit of once great promise, as conceived by the origins of the Dragon blood. It was when he found true inspiration in the Dark Aura that fowl creatures began to enter the lands. Nasty Goblins, possessed warlocks, dark elves, and befixed dwarves that saw his true power in Resteroth.

But he never questioned his father why they followed him, and for that, he knew his studies could only deepen with each turn.

But inside the library, the sanctuary for his family, could bring his worst fears to life. The library was never this quiet. He invited his family into the room. Prince Leon was reading through a large dusty book. When asked what he was reading, Prince Leon proclaimed it was a large history of the surrounding countries around Engmar.

The woods were populated by the elves, who had never come into Engmar. When he asked his father why, King Angmar said that they preserve the fantasy of all life. That’s what keeps the Dark Aura away from our lands. When Prince Leon returned to his reading, the king knew that they were too young to understand the Dark Aura’s corruption. He wished that he could share stories that could help them survive, but he wished that they remained children for a few more years.

They needed to be young, because if he told them stories his father told him, they would turn into men overnight.

His father, King Angmar the 1st, Duke of Lockheed, was a warrior who pursued many battles throughout the lands. He remembered journeys through the Dark Elves fortresses. Beautiful elves had given him swords that could fend off goblins. It was called The Soothsayer. It could slow, and infinitely straw goblins attack in time. When a goblin blade touched it, the blade could freeze everyone’s steps. When they stopped, King Angmar the 1st was unstoppable. The sword was on display in the armory, where no one touched it except the King. But it had been a long time since he held the blade.

Only he continued reading while his family joined him inside his study. He could only render what his sons were thinking. Prince Kingston, his second youngest, was holding a knight and a dark goblin doll, fighting constantly. He wondered if Prince Kingston could hear these stories, but he saw the youngest, the dark child, in Queen Lamonge’s arms.

When his wife posed the question of a name, he knew that it had to be a kingly name. He searched through his genealogy calendar, a recent and wealthy document upon his name and conquest, as all would multiply under his name.

King Angmar’s father had created a royal bloodline. He smiled upon seeing his family, both high and low. At the bottom was his own father. A father to call fathers, King Silus, Duke of Lockheed. As the oldest child, King Angmar knew his father’s wrath. He was cruel to him in his younger years, but not without reason. His father had seen the Forty Years Wars, where blood fell, both ally and foe, for forty years. The elves had started the war, and his father, King Agmar the 1st had created a blood pact between him and King Silus. King Silus was a war elf that had seen growing battles with goblins who were possessed by the Dark aura. The memories of his father’s stories crept through his dreams. The Goblins were monstrous creatures with serrated teeth for chewing through morsels of ground diseased chuck. They had red hollow eyes that could reach into your skin and pull out the heart with zero delay.

Their fingers were claws that dug into weak flesh and spread their poison into the hearts of men’s souls. King Angmar, Duke of Lockheed, blinked his eyes covered with blood, had been blinded from the day’s battle. But he could see perfectly. The ones who had been infected turned into Goblins. They lost the taste for normal food. They began to feast on animals, in turn, infecting them into larger predators that they could use for their control. After they infected the beasts, they started to thirst for man’s blood. The thirst for blood would become innocuous. This is how the goblins infected their army, and could become one single mind. They could see through each other’s eyes, and never think about resting. They could see through the infected eyes, and with that red stare, they could see into their victim’s souls.

The Goblins began to infest and live inside the woodland realms to the south. The south was the home of all the elves and woodland creatures, but the goblins began to infect the elves, turning them into the soldiers of the Dark Aura.

It was when King Silus, saw the massacre of his people with his army of woodland warriors. They were beautiful creatures. They had long black hair and fair skin. His most notable warrior, Physel, had slain many goblins from atop a woodland hill. He was exposed to all of his men, but the Goblins kept running toward him. He used the shaved arrows from orcs, and continued killing waves of goblins.

King Angmar knew it was his own father who had seen all of this, but he could not remember all of the tale. He knew that if he ventured into this, he would not sleep for days.

He could not stand goblins, but he was afraid ever since he was a boy. He had never served during war time, but it was his father who had seen the severity of the goblins spreading through the furthest reaches beyond Engmar. But the Goblins could not travel across the woodland realms. The Elves had sworn allegiance to destroy the Goblins. But it was the elves bloodthirsty paranoia that marked there ever sanguine laughter. It was assumed that every elf, high or low, duty to fight goblins. It wasn’t out of mere duty, but out of vengeance. This was a vengeance that no mortal could understand, and if King Angmar had ever met a goblin, he would never think twice to join the 40 Years War.

But that war was over, as much as he knew. He knew that this dark child could not have a name that bred from years of violence. King Angmar wanted the boy to have a future to never dwell in dark thoughts. But with the Dark Aura, was anyone safe?

Was this dark child going to be like the rest of the other children made from the Dark Aura. But what his father told him only came from his own history books.

But he had to decide on a name. He became trapped by the idea of naming him under Aseroth. King Angmar knew of the years Noyce spent in bloodshed. Noyce was a great king of Angmar. He was a peaceful man that never left his own kingdom. He did not care about trouble until it came to his doorstep. King Noyce was a coward who had done dealings with the dark elves who had agreed to keep the Goblins out in hopes that they may marry one of his children.

But Aseroth did not want to bring his children into such a debt, but he knew that this would only create more tension throughout the land. King Silus did not know about this, and so he did this deed. But it was that the woodland elves in Angmar did not want to associate with him because of his terrible deeds. King Noyce was only trying to look out for his family, but instead his own son Prince Lionel fell in love with a dark elf.

It was said that they had created two heirs to his throne, Prince Charles and Princess Verona the Second. King Noyce could not keep his son from falling in love. She was a tall-darkened elf who had grey and blue eyes. She could carry the misery of the world on her sword. She was also a princess, but also a warrior. Darkened elves were taught to fight, even if their lineage were kingly. It was said even the most kingly dark elves could cause terror inside the human heart.

The fate of Prince Lionel was a sad story, because he was sold into a secret pact that refused any light or kinship from any neighboring countries. But when King Noyce had visited him, he had a smooth disposition. Prince Lionel truly did love his wife, and she loved him. When King Noyce tried to talk to King Orac, he was fairly kind.

He expressed that their marriage truly is a union that has helped both of their lives, but was also one that was not without passion.

He saw it in his son as well. The young prince Lionel seemed desperately alone throughout his meandering life, and when he saw Queen Elizabeth, that sense of time and place seemed to exist. When he held his wife’s hand, she returned a kind gesture.

But no one had heard from Lionel or his family, and were rumored to be living in the eastern reaches of Engmar. King Angmar wished he could see Lionel’s family one last time before he eventually passed from existence. But he knew that Lionel was not a name for someone who will become apart of the royal blood of Angmar.

He searched through the genealogy, and saw his wife nursing the young boy. King Angmar wished to know how she was nursing, even though she had no baby. She could not explain it, but the King’s physician had said her body, since she was descendant of the elves, could produce pure milk. Even after twenty years of marriage he was amazed by Queen Lamonge’s ability to retain an essence of purity.

He wondered if he should name them after Queen Lamonge’s family, but if he were to rule one day, he needed to bear his name. His lineage. But could boy could escape the responsibility of bearing the weight of Angmar? He saw an innocence and darkness that the boy could not see. But he was just a child.

He derived no pleasure in the idea of welcoming an evil presence in his house, but it was his wife’s love that kept him from banishing the child.

He remembered a few more names that could be explored.

He took his son’s to their room after he finished reviewing the ancient genealogies. 

But he found this too exhaustive. Maybe he should be given a new name?

He saw his new son, and wondered what his wife would name him. Queen Lamonge smiled, knowing that her line was truly royal itself.

She had come from ancient Elves who had once seen the creation of the earth at its infancy. Those were the Landling Elves, who were said to have come from the east on boats. The Landling Elves were harsh and cruel, but when they met the elves of Engmar, there cruelty was met with kindness. They then grew empathy for the land. They began to create the land for all men and women to enjoy. Her great grandfather, King Ingmar, saw the creation of the world. It was said he created the first man out of mud and clay. He gave them the breath of life, and watched them grow. He inserted an apple into their chest, and that’s how he created the humans first hearts.

It was also said that he created the humans first eyes out of rocks. King Ingmar whispered a solemn prayer.

Oh Creature

Made out of Rock and clay

See

Because you are a beautiful

Specimen made from the elves

Blessed be those

Who see from inside a rock

Because you will become our new inheritors

Blessed be our forefathers

Who came over from Neraphim

The land from great inequities.

We give you this land.

Breathe from the apple of life

King Angmar knew that his wife believed in many strange things, but King Angmar knew that the presence of elves were always embedded with his lineage. His children were both human and immortal, but it was not known if his sons were graced with the immortality of the elves. But their great grandfather was not to be heard from in four decades.

He wondered if those tales were true. He had not encountered a magical elf in a long time, but he knew that his sons were infused with a deep yearning.

He could see Leon’s need for history, and Kingston was a good young man who seemed dutiful toward his mother.

But it was the dark one, even though he was fair, needed a name. But he didn’t see, or possess the Dark Aura, and how could he judge an innocent child to be evil? He wondered if his heart had grown older, embracing the tales of old. His time for fairy tales had grown too comprehensive.

But he followed his wife into the nursery. She gave him a warm kiss. The child had drunk his fill of milk, and fell asleep to soft soothing songs. Queen Lamonge seemed happy. His wife was more beautiful than the pale spring morning, but her warmth resonated like the songs of summer in her prayers. Her simplicity to know the true meaning of love, but history gave reason to hold caution.

He posed the question to his wife that should the boys know about their histories yet. His wife smiled, and did not shrug. Queen Lamonge was a woman who gave answers in full sentences, and was a woman who knew everything without preaching. He wondered if his wife was as beautiful as she was wise. She heard the baby crying, and she whispered more songs into his ear. The dark child continued to cry, because it could not understand the world yet. Small children do not understand the world, but does the world understand small children who cry for a language they can’t speak? His wife’s language of the elves could calm anything to sleep, and she gave her husbands words to remember.

Est Angmar, linipo volpi est Sangue.

When asked what did she mean, she calmly replied that it meant, Dear Angmar, this boy is your blood.

When he heard these words, he calmly agreed, and told her that he wanted a name from her family.

She did not become cross, and rubbed the boy’s sweating forehead. His eyes were black as onyx stone, and his skin seemed fair but cold.

Queen Lamonge placed her new son in Leon’s crib. The room was their two sons early crib. It was strong oak, made by King Asteroth himself. All of the men and princesses of Angmar slept in this royal crib. He felt it was a crib that would protect all of his ancestors, but his righteous soul was expertly filled with iridescent fear for this new child.  The crib was oak with etchings of King Asteroth’s journey. The etchings reminded him of his father’s stories, but his grandfather never knew what peace was. But for peace, he found that war had to exist. He needed to rest, and decide his future.

Only inside his silky sheets, he felt a stench grow from within his nose. He could envision the battlefield of the Forty Years War. This memory had created a foul stench that eradicated his ability to close his eye. Bodies of goblins were posted on spikes at the Southern border. The Goblins had been firing their own arrows into the dead bodies for target practice. King Angmar stared down at his clothes and saw that he was a young child again. Had his fears become reality? Trudging through the trench, where the wounded were being carried back through the small wooden gate.

Goblins were trying to push through but many fair haired elves shooting arrows into the burning goblins flesh that tried to climb over the fifteen feet deep trench.  They squealed in glorious pain the Elves arrows sent into their pulsating brains. Black blood dripped down their heads, and as the goblins pushed over the trench of the dead, shaking off their last mortal coils of life. But the Elves even smiled as they killed the Goblins. They cursed at them, and threw knives into the slain orcs.

King Angmar was frightened for once in his life. He ran away from the trenches, passing by many human and elf soldiers who were approaching the front line. The trenches smelled of dense carrion, thick putridity. He began to cry, like a small child. He knew these tales were true, and the mud began to cover his legs. His clothes were stained with urine. He ran away until he saw a small shelter inside the trenches. The trenches were covered in the robes of his birthright. The Stallion rearing upwards with his hindlegs. This horse, Echmar, was the horse King Asteroth rode into battle.

When he approached the tent, he saw his father, Lord Asteroth sitting and eating meat.

Father. He said.

But his father ignored him, and he tried repeating his name, but his father continued to ignore him. He walked around the side of King Asteroth’s shoulder, expectantly trying to see him.

But King Asteroth was sitting at his small table eating a leg of lamb. King Asteroth teeth chewing through the flesh of the lamb, proudly, as his lips were covered in thick juices, and the blood was trailing down his chin and lips in long succulent droplets.

King Angmar wondered if his father would ever notice him, even in his frightened state.

Father I need to ask you a question.

His father, the white haired warrior, was staring off at the wall of the mud trenches. He was eyeing his weapon, The Soothsayer, which was about fifteen feet long. His father stood seven feet tall, the blade was also three inches wide, cutting through hot steel. His blacksmiths could never sharpen the soothsayer by only two pairs of hands. The hilt was made out of thick doldrum oils, and it had small spikes at the end of the hilt. King Asteroth had killed more than 2,000 goblins with this sword, and King Angmar feared this sword.

But he stood and studied his father for a moment. He seemed content in watching his sword, because his father knew warfare.

I know that you are here boy. But I can not speak to you.

King Asteroth kept eying the Soothsayer. Chunks of meat fell off the bone, and his mouth chewed it with content.

Why father?

Because I am only in your dreams.

But this is so real.

The blood and the carnage. I could always hear it. I can hear the screams of the dead men. I know why you are here, but I can not speak to you about what you want.

Please. Just answer my question.

Be silent boy.

Even in King Angmar’s dream, he could still feel his father’s words haunting him.

This is no place for a boy.

He felt his father’s words tear through his veneer. To King Asteroth, King Agmar was still a boy. He could never feel his father’s warmth or compassion, even when he was growing up. He was always a child that was stripped free from the struggles of war.

He began to cry, a king, crying in the presence of his Kingly father.

He began to leave, when he heard King Silus entering the tent.

King Asteroth. May we have a word. King Silus was even more beautiful than he imagined. He was one of the divine elves that had led the charge in defending the Southern border of Livinia, the south port seas against the dark elves.

You may, but we might have a guest.

King Resteroth.

The name hit him, and he left his dreams. He awoke, and he grabbed his nightshirt. He felt the pain of sorrows entering his chest. The name Resteroth filled his mind with woe. His wife turned over and leaned up in the bed.

Husband. What is wrong?

I had a dream about the Forty Years War. I could smell everything.

I have heard those tales as well. For many years our people fought against the Goblins that grieved our lands. You must tell me.

No, I must see the child.

He would not argue with his wife. He knew the tales too well. He hurried out of his bedroom with his robe. His father had become a place where all the lies and torments of dreams lay inside his mind. But he knew that his father would speak to him. He carried a torch with him, and the guards saluted. When they asked what he wanted, he spoke quickly without giving the guards indication of his true meaning.

He placed his hand against his temple. He walked into the corridor where he saw a painting of his father with King Silus at the Forty Years War at Livinia. Through this picture, he could hear the tormented screams and the death ruminating from within the picture. He could never look at this picture, for the dread of history always lingered closely as books he read could portend.

He feared history more than the present nor the future.

Plundering the subterranean depths of the castle, where the shadows could become real, never paying head to the darkness. With his torch, it could keep him safe from the darkness. But there were lights surrounding the dungeon.

The guards bowed, but he waved them up. He asked them to speak with his father.

When they said his father was resting, he could not hear their warnings. His father could be many things, but his rule as kingship needed to be answered.

Father. He stood at the door, waiting for him to speak.

There was silence, but the sounds of shuffling feet filled the room. He even shuttered when he heard his father walking to the door.

Who disturbs me at such a time.

It’s your son.

The door opens, and a figure who was once so strong, and young in his dreams, was now an old man with a long grey beard. He was still seven feet tall. He had to lean forward to see King Angmar.

Well, it has been a long time.

I hope you are not mad. King Angmar knew not to make his father mad.

In a weird way, fathers were always beholding to their sons who were in power. It’s like the last dying flower before the inevitable approach of winter ready to cut the last blooming floret down with threaded cold breath. No matter how old men and women are, Kings or slaves, they are still afraid of their father’s wrath. They expect it and dread it like a curse.

I’m never mad at you. Please come in.

When he saw his father’s cell, it was a world he hoped would never happen to him. He hoped death would take him before he lived past his age. The cell was clean, constantly swept up by the chambermaids. He saw a personal picture of King Silus on his wall.

He asked his father if he missed the company of the elves. They were always on his mind, and no one could stop him from missing them. When King Agmar asked Asteroth if he wanted to visit the Southern fields, he only regretted that it would be too painful to show his face to the immortal King Silus.

He sat down with King Asteroth, who was not a king anymore, but his regality remained ever present.

His father, stood seven feet tall to his four foot three. He tussled his sons head, out of some old remembrance for fatherhood.

I had a dream father.

Of course you did. You were always so imaginative. Dreaming of things that you were never exposed to.

I dreamt about the Forty Years War.

He still could hear the Elves laughing in his head. Roaring with a sense of doom he had never heard before in his life. But it was all too familiar for his father.

At your age and still dreaming. Nothing is impossible.

I saw you and King Silus at the battle. But also I also heard you talk about King Resteroth.

There was a moment of silence between them. The birds scattered off twenty miles from the castle. Trees shook in unrequited fear. The worms in the wall began to move away. Something was looking at them, but King Asteroth wrapped his arm around his son, King Angmar’s shoulder.

Well, you should be afraid. He was a man who could kill Goblins as if it were his hobby. He was a man who held much dominion over the southern soils of Engmar. It was a time when everyone heard the call of the Elves. Everyone pursued the elves, even in times of great comfort. It was when Elves could shape the world. And they still do. But King Resteroth never shared kinship with King Silus. King Resteroth wanted to take back the lands of the south with the help of the dark elves. But King Silus’s grudge remained too great. He left the battlefield to take control of the southern lands. He was a mighty warrior, and too dangerous for us to control.

The souls of the dead began to whisper through the black brick walls. The world was frightening again. King Angmar felt his father’s touch place no reassurance. He didn’t want to ask about King Resteroth’s facial features. Did he have a goatee? A beard? No, he was clean shaven, and gave much men to worry about their wives loneliness. But King Resteroth had a queen who could serve through every command. She was as feared as King Resteroth was. Queen Resteroth had come from a warrior family that could scare Queen Lamonge’s elf background into soul shattering disarray. She was black haired and her eyes were made from full-fledged diamonds.

If there was any attraction, the diamonds in her eyes gave men the inclination to join her bed chambers with her husband. Of course, no one ever did, but it didn’t stop men from joining either. King Asteroth would never admit his temptation, but drew the importance between being a King and warrior. He could never see himself joining her, because he feared King Resteroth too highly. This was before he ventured into the Southern lands to reclaim Engmar.

When your mother died, I knew that I could never hold the throne by myself.

His devotion to his mother seemed almost too unlike him. He seemed too melancholy for his great days as a warrior. But King Angmar never saw him in a good light either. There were years of torment his heart did not want to unearth.

Did you want to ask me something.

Well, I have something to tell you, more importantly. A peasant held up a child and they said it was King Resteroth’s child.

Who brought it? His father at that moment began to regain his old strength again, grabbing at his throat.

When King Asteroth gripped his throat, he wrestled him to the bed and held him in his grip. From his finger to his eyes, he could see the Forty Years Wars inside Asteroth’s remembrance. This was the man he knew, and he tried to wrestle his arms away from his neck. He heard the sounds of goblins laughing as they died. Heads were strewn off in every single swipe of Time Runner’s blade. The dead lay among each other, sleeping but always awake at the same time.

Father! He said through his grip.

King Asteroth was breathing erractically, feeling his heart beating again, his veins were a river of bloodshed all over again. His hands were iron, and his breath was inflamed by the memories reliving inside his eyes.

His father finally released him, and he stood hunched over, covering his eyes. King Angmar tried to catch his breath, and he sat next to him, uncomfortably.

Why did I come to you for help? King Angmar said through his stolen breath.

Because you know I can help. King Asteroth stole a sidelong glance, trying to see what his son was thinking.

I don’t think that’s possible. He jumped up from the bed, and then started to leave.

Only his father said one more thing to him as he approached the door. Beware that child. You will only cause yourself more pain and misery. You must leave it out for King Resteroth’s spies to take. He knows his son exists.

King Asteroth was shocked by his father’s words. He left without looking back at his father. The once great king had descended to madness, but he never knew why he couldn’t die.

Men always ponder the actions of their fathers. Even when they mean them no harm, father’s always create more questions than answers. Questions that fail to gain any knowledge about the