Marionette of the Emperor

It was a cold day in a remote town built atop five hills, aptly named the Five Hills, situated on the far reaches of the Valerian continent.

The air hung dry and heavy, as though even the world had forgotten how to breathe.

The birds didn’t chirp in the trees and the wind didn’t whistle. Only the ominous caw of ravens tore the insidious silence apart.

The stench of death lingered, thick and suffocating.

A green-eyed boy, barely eleven, staggered forward, knees buckling under the weight of another boy slung over his back, unconscious.

The pair were covered in mud and blood. Their breathing was worrisome at best and they were covered in wounds, their clothes shredded by what looked like the claws of a gigantic bear.

Alaric, the dizzy walking dark-haired boy, wished it was a bear. Perhaps they could have escaped a bear… but not a demon.

The creature’s gargantuan misshapen mass, abhorrent appearance, mangled jaws and menacing teeth still flashed through his eyes. Its roar, a rusty deranged cackle that ended in an ominous gurgle, was still fresh in his memory, like the call of death.

To the boy’s side, covered in black armour from head to toe, was a tall graceful feminine figure of a knight stood at almost two metres tall which was impossibly tall for a human.

In one of her large slender arms, she held a small sleeping boy with fiery hair who couldn’t be over seven years old.

The knight, towering and impossibly tall, moved with a grace that belied the weight of her armour. Her eyes, hidden behind the shadow of her helm, seemed to watch over them like a sentinel.

She emanated a powerful yet comforting aura. At her side, a girl held onto her free hand for support, walking along with the two boys.

With the exception of the spotless knight, the girl and the little boy had sustained the least damage.

Tears streamed down Alaric’s face as the events of the past hour flashed through his mind in feverish waves.

His heart ached with each memory of the vicious attack. The palpable feeling of helplessness that robbed him of his ability to breathe was crushing.

The sound of crushing bone and ripping flesh as the demon mercilessly eviscerated the owner of most of the blood covering him.

To the demon, he’d been but a mere cub, incapable of doing anything.

Still, that feeling was second to the fact that he’d survived and yet, his friend, Jared, hadn’t.

He still remembered the creature’s abhorrent maw getting obstructed from view by a human body seconds before what should have been his death.

Because of him, Jared was mangled beyond recognition. The sight played on repeat as though he was cursed to remember it for the rest of his life.

Seconds… That’s all it had taken for the powerful demon to snuff out the life of his friend, who’d been a lot older than him. What hope did an eleven-year-old have against such a beast?

Had it not been for the sudden appearance of the tall graceful knight, they would all have met the same fate.

Surrounding the small group of battered children and the knight were dried woods. Having shed most of their leaves, the trees carried an ominous aura—as though they’d been aware of the demon dwelling in the forest.

The female knight looked down at the crying boy. Their pace was less than ideal but she wished to give him time to let his tears flow. A shimmer of magic encased the boy he was carrying, preserving his life.

A ghost of a smile graced the dark knight’s face. The situation might have looked grim… but the weeping boy she was looking at hadn’t even once paused to rest even though the person he was carrying should have been equal to his weight.

His muscles should have been burning. His legs should have given up a long time ago… and yet he forged forward. It didn’t matter that he was crying or broken…

The knight knew for a fact that he was going to be alright.

That was just the way her master’s spirit was.

As the group lumbered on, they passed through a translucent barrier at the foot of a hill. The familiar change in landscape was a signal to the children that home was not so far. This hill, like four others, was a part of the little village they called home: the Five Hills.

Today, however, going home felt worse than Alaric had ever dreamed. Alaric stood still, looking up at the hill they were meant to climb. The dark knight paused a moment later and turned back to meet his gaze.

“Keep moving forward,” her soft voice echoed.

Alaric looked down at his dirty feet and brutally damaged shoes. His legs wouldn’t budge and his heart beat heavier with each passing second.

Every step from this point on would be an excruciating one. He would have to face everyone… and tell them of the bad news.

“ALARIC, FINN…” a voice called out to them. Alaric’s green eyes snapped up in fear. A beautiful lady with white hair dressed in an old apron came rushing down to meet them for a moment, her voice laden with worry.

Alaric knew this face all too well. It was the last one he wanted to see. The face of Sister Marla, their caretaker. The very person he lived to impress—the last person he’d ever want to let down.