Royal Revenge

We ran. The corridors felt endless, their shadows long and winding as the boy led the way with swift, silent steps. My feet struggled to keep up, exhaustion tugging at every muscle, but I couldn’t slow down. The adrenaline that had carried me this far was wearing thin, replaced by a hollow fear gnawing at my gut.

“Where are we going?” I managed between gasps, my voice barely a whisper.

He glanced back at me, his face still sharp, but there was something almost playful in his eyes. “We’re leaving,” he said quietly. “But first, we need to make a quick stop at the royal vault.”

“Vault?” I blinked, my mind sluggish. “How the hell are we even going to get in?”

He smirked, his steps never faltering. “You’re actually the only one who can. As long as you’re alive, they can’t touch whatever’s inside. So the vault isn’t really that guarded.”

I didn’t ask any more questions. I wasn’t sure I had the energy for it, and everything he said was starting to blur together in my mind. All I knew was that we had to keep moving.

The halls were empty, save for the occasional flicker of a torch or the distant echo of footsteps—guards we managed to avoid by ducking into shadows or slipping through side passages. The boy moved like he had been through these halls countless times before, each turn deliberate, each pause calculated.

Finally, we reached a large wooden door, massive and framed in old and weathered stone. It wasn’t really a door—there were no handles or keyholes. It looked ancient, a solid wall of dark and knotted wood, more like something alive than a simple piece of carpentry. I stared at it, my chest tightening. It looked almost exactly like the World Tree.

The boy turned to me, his expression serious. “This is it. You need to go in, grab what you can, and get out. Don’t take too long.”

He handed me a bag. I looked at it, then back at him. “And what am I supposed to take?”

“Gold,” he said, his eyes scanning the hall behind us. “Not too much though—anything small and valuable would be better. But be quick.”

The urgency in his voice sent a chill down my spine. I didn’t want to go in alone. I didn’t even know how to get in, but I knew I had to. The appeal of searching for treasure was a nice motivation though. I stepped toward the door, hesitating for a moment before reaching out. To my surprise, my hand passed right through the wood, like it wasn’t there at all.

I glanced back at him, his face tight with tension. “Go.”

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, and my whole body moved through the wood as if it were nothing more than damp air.

Inside, the room was vast—far larger than it had any right to be. There were no windows, but somehow I could see clearly—rows upon rows of strange shelves made of the same dark, knotted wood. The room felt like the insides of an eldritch creature, rough and alive, almost as if it were breathing around me. But I tried my best to focus on what lay inside. The hall was filled with gold, jewels, and treasures beyond anything I had ever imagined.

My heart raced as I hurried to the nearest pile of gold. I stuffed handfuls of fat golden coins into the bag, but it filled up quickly, becoming far too heavy far too soon. I dropped a few coins, trying to make room, but it still weighed me down more than I had expected. Never having seen this much money, I struggled to let go of more, their forms making clunking sounds as they hit the ground. My eyes roamed the shelves, searching for something—anything—that might be more valuable than gold itself.

At the far end of the room, I saw them. Small vials, no bigger than my hand, glowing faintly. They looked like they were filled with smoke, swirling and shifting inside the glass. I knew instantly what they were.

Blessings.

Many stories had mentioned them—the gifts from the gods, left by heroes and stored away for only the most powerful to obtain. I grabbed them all, five vials, their delicate labels too small for me to read, and shoved them into the bag. My heart was pounding now, every second slipping away too quickly.

Near the vials, seven colorful egg-shaped objects caught my eye. They were beautiful, like perfectly carved gems. The biggest one was red and must have weighed more than me, but the smallest one, the white one, was smaller than my fist. Without thinking, I grabbed it, my fingers curling around its cool surface. I had no idea what it was, but I knew it had to be worth a lot.

I swung the bag over my shoulder, taking a few more small objects along the way back. Before passing through the door, I saw an amazing-looking sword resting by the wall. Its golden hilt was adorned with a large, expensive-looking ruby, so I took it and hurried back toward the door.

As soon as I stepped through, the boy’s eyes widened at the sight of the sword, his gaze running over the hilt like it was something sacred.

“What now?” I asked, my voice breathless.

He shook himself, his gaze snapping away from the blade. “This way,” he muttered, turning sharply.

We barely made it a few steps before two guards rounded the corner, their eyes widening in shock. They didn’t hesitate—swords were drawn, and shouts rang through the empty halls. The flash of steel caught the torchlight, and before I could react, the boy was already moving.

His sword arced through the air, a blur of silver. The first guard barely had time to raise his weapon before the boy’s blade slammed into his. The clang of metal on metal echoed in the narrow corridor.

I stumbled forward, gripping my new sword awkwardly in my hands, my heart hammering in my chest. I didn’t know how to use it, but I couldn’t just stand there. I had to do something.

The second guard lunged at me, and I swung my sword wildly, more out of panic than anything else. The blade connected with his, the impact jolting up my arm, sending sharp pain through my wrist. I was losing control, but in his eyes, I saw something I didn’t expect—fear. He didn’t press forward. His movements were cautious, uncertain. I was terrified, but so was he. He didn’t dare come any closer.

I flailed the sword again, a clumsy strike, but it forced the guard back. In his hesitation, I swung at him. This time, the blade forced him to retaliate, and he struck me once in the shoulder, though I didn’t feel much. His eyes widened, more startled than hurt, and I saw him glance at his own arm. I followed his gaze and saw blood running down from a wound that shouldn’t have been there.

The guard screamed something, but his words were lost in the chaos. His fear was palpable now, though mine was overwhelming me just as much. My breaths came in ragged gasps, and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart, the clashing of steel, and the boy—always moving, relentless.

He was still engaged with the other guard, his sword a blur as he parried and struck in quick succession. But then the guard managed a hit, slicing into his arm. He winced, momentarily off-balance, and in that instant, the guard’s blade found his leg. The boy stumbled, his face twisting in pain.

“No!” I screamed, my voice cracking. Desperation took over. I charged at the guard, my sword flailing wildly. I didn’t know what I was doing, but it didn’t matter. The guard stepped back, his eyes wide with disbelief, his sword lowering slightly. He wasn’t sure what I would do next, but he wasn’t willing to take the risk of hitting me.

The adrenaline surged, and I swung again and again, each strike pushing him farther back, until he was forced against the wall. I didn’t know how long I could keep it up. My arms were trembling, my legs weak, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t let them win.

Behind me, the boy was back on his feet, his face set in grim determination despite the blood trickling down his arm and leg. With a growl, he surged forward, his blade finding its target with brutal precision. The guard’s eyes went wide as the sword pierced deep through the gap on his armpit, the light fading from his gaze as he crumpled to the floor.

I barely had time to register what had happened before the boy turned his attention to the second guard. He was really quick, each of his strikes faster than the last. The guard tried to block, but it was too much for him. The boy’s blade sliced through the air, cutting the guard on the neck.

And then, it was over. The guards lay at our feet, their bodies still.

I stared at the blood pooling on the floor, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My hands shook, and I could barely keep hold of my sword. It felt like the world had tilted, like everything had just… shifted.

He wiped the blood from his blade, his face calm despite the blood on his arm. He glanced at me, but I was fine, just incredibly tired.

“We have to move,” he said quietly, his voice firm but not unkind. “Come on.”

He didn’t wait for me to respond. He turned and started running at a fast pace. He wasn’t limping despite the blood, but moving with purpose. I followed, my legs weak, my heart still racing. I didn’t know how we had won that fight, but we weren’t out of danger yet.

Not by a long shot.

We ran, the sounds of pursuit echoing behind us. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep going, but the boy kept on pushing, guiding us through countless corridors until we were finally out.

“We need to reach the docks,” he said, his voice breathless but determined. “There’s a ship already waiting for us.”

I glanced at his arm, every inch of it covered in blood. But as I looked closer, I realized the skin beneath was healthy, smooth and unmarked.

He looked at me and put a hand on my chest. Suddenly, golden light enveloped me and I felt better, less tired than before.

I was stunned, but it clearly wasn’t the time to ask questions. We ran through the streets, my legs burning, my lungs on fire. But he was always there, pulling me along when I faltered, guiding me through the maze of alleyways until we finally reached the docks.

A ship was indeed waiting for us, its sails already unfurled, and the moment we stepped aboard, it began to pull away from the shore. I collapsed onto the deck, my chest heaving, my mind spinning.

In the distance, I could see the countless torches lighting the darkness near the palace, the shouts of men still searching for us.

I had escaped. But the reality of it hadn’t sunk in yet.

The boy stood beside me, his eyes scanning the horizon, the weight of everything hanging between us.

“I’m Argus, by the way,” I said, panting.

He looked at me, smirking slightly. “I’m Marquess Lancel Octavius Nogard, but you can call me Lance.”

My eyes widened in shock, but I could only laugh at the notion. I already knew he was some kind of noble, but he clearly wasn’t anything like the rest of them. I wasn’t scared. I knew we were far from safe, but for the first time ever, I felt somewhat free.