To Davan Vouyer, Mordred Collins was a beast that harbored a monstrous potential.
As both a knight and a father, he had never seen a child like the spawn of Uther.
Loyal, that was the most startling part of the young Collins to Davan.
The boy was seemingly born with a burning love for his country, and an unflinching loyalty to Soladarr.
And the best showing of this loyalty was when the Queen's pregnancy was announced.
The royal family of course made a big deal of it, it was a celebration that every noble family had attended.
It was the largest gathering held within the capital in the last one hundred years, it was a time for joy and hope.
But Davan and many others had an eye on the young Mordred, the boy who had been seen by many as the next in line to the throne.
Being the only child of prince Uther, the boy had been called the crown prince by many a noble and commoner alike.
And having that title ripped from a thirteen year old boy, should have left hard feelings.
'But not Mordred.'
Davan shook his head as he thought about the boy for the first time since he watched him be stolen away right in front of him.
Uther and King Leos were talking when Davan finally noticed Mordred, he was sitting alone, obviously bored.
Davan approached him, hoping that the child would say something that he could use for later.
He had met disinherited children before, childish and hateful things that were incredibly helpful to parrot back to the right people.
He had used this little trick to get him where he was now, an untalented third son of a baron to the captain of the royal guard captain.
But Davan got something far different than he expected or wanted, he got the definition of a patriot.
Instead of anger or sadness, the young Mordred was ecstatic by the fact that he had lost his right to the throne.
Davan then had to listen to the teenager excitedly talk about the idea of properly serving Soladarr without needing to bear with the burden of leadership.
He remembered having to just smile with the occasional nodding of his head, his dream of sowing discord between the royal family and the Collins dashed.
And then of course there was the last time he laid eyes on the boy, that night things had been going all too slowly.
It felt like at any moment the ball would drop, and the blame would be thrown onto him.
But when the moment it all went to hell finally came, Davan couldn't be more pleased.
The demon appeared in front of everyone with poor little Mordred in tow, the boy refusing to surrender his petty pride in the face of damnation.
Of course Davan would never willingly do something to harm the boy, but one had to be cordial when dealing with a hostage situation.
Did his actions during the stand off between Uther and the arch demon only hasten the demon's departure?
Debatable, oh and how he debated his actions he did that night, he was just taking the responsibility of the lives of the royal family as the highest priority.
"The boy did his noble duty of protecting the princess' life, one could only dream of being abel to save their country's peace in such a manner."
"Im ashamed could not help the poor child, he was like a son to me."
"If I did nothing, the arch demon could have continued her attack on the castle."
"I believe that there was no way to truly save Mordred at that moment."
Davan had spoken those words and others like it for the first two years after Mordred's disappearance.
And those words would be twisted and used by lowly journalists, common blood soldiers, and other similar dirty bloodied currs.
But no one could actually do anything about his actions that night, thanks to his greatest shield.
"What if?"
But the best part of all, was not only was a rising star snubbed before Davan even needed to face him.
He finally had a trick he could use against the knighted berserker himself.
For just a couple of silver coins, a rumor would spread that in a far away land a mysterious child had appeared and with only flame and honor did the impossible.
Uther would disappear for months searching for his stolen son, Igraine was always locked up within her study doing who knows what, and Davan and his faction were able to have a much easier time doing what they wanted.
These four years had seen the oblige faction grow from a verbal agreement between a few wealthy families and the royal guard.
Into a country spanning faction that could rival most noble families with ease, with their newest victim being the lowly Usher family.
Them being able to take all their bountiful lands and distribute them amongst themselves.
But for a while now Davan's instincts had been telling him that times were changing.
His well paid rumors were ignored by Uther, Igraine had returned to the world of politics, and for the first time in years the oblige faction were losing control over their homeland.
And when he saw the face of the giant, who was now bowing before a familiar hooded figure.
Davan knew that he would have to fight tooth and nail for the power he had gained.
…
Karlsson only saw the face of the mysterious giant for only a second, but he instantly knew who he was.
The old journalist didn't even need a second look as he then bolted out of the arena.
A wide smile plastered on his face as Karlson's mind raced at the possibilities.
Soladarr's greatest son, the champion of the next generation, scion of the two great guardians.
Those were just a few of the titles given to the young Mordred, Karlsson himself remembered all the stories that spread around his neighborhood when his children were small.
The stories that surrounded the young man brought hope to many about the future.
His youthful energy combined with Mordred's innate sense of justice easily made him an easy symbol for propaganda.
Many children would pretend to be the young Collins, facing whatever foe that the young hero needed to conquer.
The future seemed to be made just for Mordred himself, he was just kind enough to share it.
And then he was stolen from us, and with it his disappearance everything that the boy represented disappeared.
Gone was the hope, the dreams, and the future that was promised.
Instead there was fear, despair, and the terrible feeling that this was only the beginning.
The Collins went quiet but continued to do their for the people, yet they could no longer keep many of the members of the upper class in check.
A shiver went up Karlson's spine as he remembered the first year of Mordred's disappearance.
Many thought that Soladarr would experience another civil war, the oblige faction had grown bolder, seemingly this boldness correlating with the young hero's kidnapping.
In the noble courts words trickled to the common man at the pace of molasses, this year being the reason for Karlson's interest in journalism.
His best selling report still being when the King had to announce to the people that there will be no war.
But the relief brought by the King's words were dashed before the actions of the newly renamed Noblige faction.
Lands taken, taxes raised, privatization of public areas, all done with impunity with no one for the common people to turn to.
Because there was a war, both sides were just waiting for who would fire the first shot.
Yet the winds of fate are never stagnant, for the last few months things had been changing.
Igraine's return to the public eye, and Uther leading the royal faction started to fight the many laws and bills that the Oblige faction easily passed before.
The theories about what had happened to bring this great era of change were numerous, but there was only one the people hoped were true.
Mordred had somehow and in some way returned to make things right.
Of course the experienced and admittedly jaded Karlsson saw that theory as nothing more than a wish for better times of the past.
Karlsson finally reached his office and started to write like a mad man.
But then today Karlsson was doing what he did best, observing and asking a few questions at the little known place of Venders row.
He was just a few stalls over when he witnessed the son of Davan pull the old protection money trick on one of the old timers.
The old man's refusal was starting to anger the brat in simple armor, that's when someone new appeared and placed their hand on Myles' shoulder.
Oh how Karlsson wished he could have had a painting of that moment, Myles turning around to face what he probably guessed was another stall owner.
Only to face a scythe wielding giant, if the confrontation ended there it still would have been a highlight of the old man's year.
But that wasn't the end of it, oh no. The giant dragged the overaged brat to the arena's floor, and every one was invited to this show stopper.
The sky peircing pillar of fire, the reveal of the ashen double, and that towering monster bird the giant had summoned through a method the journalist swore he had seen before.
The glorious and cathartic one sided battle had made the old man's year, and it was only getting better with the appearance of Davan.
But before the second round could begin, the giant was stopped by someone behind him.
Due to Karlsson's seating, he couldn't see the stranger who cruelly stopped the giant's exorcizing battle.
But he watched in growing amazement how the knight bowed to that unseen figure, and slowly removed his cauldron-like helm.
It didn't even take a second before instantly recognizing who the giant truly was.
Karlsson sat there eyes locked on the giant's face, making sure to burn his visage into his mind.
Only a few seconds after the giant showed his face, Karlsson ran out of the arena like it was on fire.
Moving like he had in his youth, Karlsson ran with his heart and mind screaming only one thing.
'We have to spread the word!'
He had too, how could he leave the people in the dark about this.
Their hero had returned, and with him so would their dreams and hope for the future.
And as he ran laughing like a fool, as he felt a great weight he had felt ever since Soladarr's greatest son's disappearance slough off him.
Old Karlsson ran towards his printing press, eyes burning all the way.
…
Leos loved his brother, the ever diligent and loyal knight who served his older brother ever faithfully.
A relationship rare for those of royal blood, especially when they are both so close in age.
But as much the King hated to admit it, that always was the case.
When Uther was born he was obviously different, born with the strength to shatter iron with only his hands.
The poor babe would break his toys and rip through his clothing with sadly little ease.
Queen Alexandria, worrying about the safety of her newborn, searches the ancient records of the royal line.
And sadly she would discover the truth of her poor child's condition, the fact that Soladarr's royal line had long ago mingled with the almost forgotten Highlanders.
Her son was the first to inherit these ancient traits in generations, and to this revelation did the poor Queen despair.
Alexandria had come from the Taradon family, who valued the purity of their blood as a source of pride, and the idea that she had married into and helped propagate such an impure line sent her to madness.
In this great despair she would then attempt to kill the family she helped prosper, even helping the mortal enemy of Soladerr, the kingdom of Nemeron.
Thankfully the plot had been uncovered by a teenage Wallace who was a simple clerk at the time.
But when the King found out the source of his beloved's madness was his second son, the pain, anger, and even self hatred fell upon the newborn.
It was because of him, that his wife had tried to kill him and Leos, that she went to the Kingdom of Nemeron.
It did not help that the Queen had disappeared while she was being held within the dungeon.
After that, Uther was seen more as a beast than a prince, poor Uther wouldn't even get to bear the royal family's name of Gestalt.
Instead King Dogner would revive the old Collins name, and stamp it on his mongrel second son.
And as much as Leos hated to admit it, he too blamed Uther for their mother's fate.
There is no excuse even if he young at the time, he should have stood up for his baby brother.
But in time their relationship mended, and the two would both do their best for their homeland.
And then came Mordred, oh if he only knew how much his nephew would change their lives for the better.
The boy was sharp, quick witted, and kind. In truth a part of him wanted Mordred to be his heir even if he finally would have a child.
But then again, the moment King Leos held his daughter Charlotte in his arms, he needed her to be his successor.
A fact he wasn't looking forward to speaking about to his teenage nephew, but the moment he saw Mordred's smile when he saw his cousin, Leos knew everything would be alright.
But no, fate would never be that kind. A royal line that wasn't ripping itself apart from internal fights and scheming.
Such a connected family with that much power, would and should never be allowed to exist for a long time.
Such was the world of mortals, not even five hours after Mordred and Charlotte met, Mordred was whisked away to places unknown.
There were questions ofcourse, How did this happen? Is there a traitor? How did such a monster make it into the castle?
But for Leos, there was only one question on his mind.
Why Mordred?
That question was answered when Leos and half the Templars made it to the princess' quarters.
The newborn princess was completely unharmed, a fact that failed to calm his nerves.
It was Igraine herself that found that the archdemon was here in the room, but for some reason the demon left Charlotte completely untouched.
Leos was the first to realise why It was Mordred, his nephew had taken the attention away from his cousin and had become the one stolen away to who knows where.
As the uncle to the poor boy Leos should have been horrified, but as King and father to Charlotte.
He was thankful and he hated himself for that, but he was thankful to Mordred for doing his duty.
That he and his wife Mary were spared the pain of losing a child, of course Leos never spoke about this.
The King gave his brother and Igraine all the resources they needed or wanted, knowing that they would know what to do in finding Mordred.
And what did the king do while his brother worked himself mad?
He spent time with his daughter, time that bought through a fifteen year old's sacrifice.
Leos found it hard to look at himself in the following years, his wife also suffered from her own guilt regarding Mordred.
But only a month after Charlotte' s fourth birthday, a miracle happened.
Mordred was found, and the most shocking fact of all was that he had endured the horrors of the sundered lands and came out the other the same bright young man.
But to his annoyance, he was far too busy to reunite with his nephew, at least that's what he kept telling himself.
But fate has a way of making things happen, and the appearance of the sky touching pillar of fire served as the sign to the king that it was time for this somewhat dreaded reunion.
Donning a cloak his majesty made his way to the arena, and soon he had made his way onto the Arena's battle ground.
It seemed that the battle was going to escalate further, without a cooler head to stop it.
The king simply put a hand on his nephew's massive shoulder, like he used to do when Mordred was younger.
Mordred recognized the action immediately, his nephew and massive familiar turning and bowing before him.
His nephew always the loyal soldier, but he wasn't a king looking for his all so loyal soldier, he was an uncle wanting to see his nephew after four long years.
"Let me see my nephew's face."
The armored giant before him paused for barely a second before removing his helm and staring face to face with his uncle.
The moment Leos finally saw his nephew's scarred face, he broke down into tears and threw his arms around Mordred.
And the moment he started hugging his nephew, his most hidden words started to pour from his mouth.
But it wasn't the words of a dismayed uncle or angered king, they were the words of a thankful father whose child was spared a tortuous life.
"Thank you."
Leos said through sobs, tears staining his cloak and falling upon Mordred's armor.
"I can not imagine how you endured all those uncountable days, But thank you."
He had read the reports and documentation surrounding Mordred's time as 13, the tales were obviously horrifying but one thing stood out to the king.
It was all spur of the moment for the horrid demon Carladax, the armor, the sundered lands, even the monstrous Neveresh.
Every moment of Mordred's years of torture it was done on a whim, meaning what ever the original plan was solely meant for Charlotte not even worthy of being wasted on Mordred.
That thought had brought a great shiver upon the King, the idea that the plan for his daughter was far worse than whatever the armor of Abadull could do to her.
This only made the King all the more thankful that in the end Mordred made himself the demon's target.
A part of him wanted Mordred to be furious at him for thanking him, for the giant to throw off his cruel and uncaring uncle and to angrily sever their family ties.
But any thoughts of deserved punishment were dashed by Mordred reciprocating his uncle's hug.
"How is Charlotte Uncle Lion?"
Leos had not heard that old nickname in years, Mordred had called him that when he first started to talk and it became a little inside joke between the brothers.
The king rose to meet his nephew face to face once again, only to see the giant smile at him like he always did.
Leos picked himself up, dusted himself off, and lifted his hood.
Before offering a hand to his nephew and offering.
"Come to the castle, you deserve to meet her."
Mordred laughed and accepted both his uncle's hand and his invitation.