Characters current info:
Rudravaan — The Emperor
A fearless ruler and master swordsman. Calm even in defeat, he carries the pride of his kingdom to the very end.
Morvyn — The Physician
The emperor's loyal friend and healer. Wise, quiet, and burdened by sorrow, he stands as the last witness to a fallen era.
Fenlor — The Swordsman
A rugged, prideful swordsman with a great sprite, fighting with raw fury and unshakable resolve.
Though reckless and hot-headed, his sense of honor drives him to protect others even at the cost of his own life.
Chapter : 3
As he said that, Rudravaan climbed the stairs to the second floor. There was a single room — simple, with a bed, a table, and a small closet.
He noticed a door to the side and opened it; inside was a modest bathroom with a barrel filled with water and a mug beside it.
Closing the door behind him, Rudravaan fell onto the bed. Within minutes, the weight of the day — and the haze of alcohol — pulled him into deep sleep.
A loud commotion rose from below while Rudravaan slept. He covered his ears and rolled onto his side, irritation pulling him awake. After a moment he pushed himself up and descended the stairs.
The bar was already full—people shouting, laughing, and swaying with their drinks. Rudravaan walked to the counter. "Why so reckless this early?" he asked the bartender.
The bartender shrugged without breaking stride. "This is what a bar is for." He turned to serve another customer.
Rudravaan stepped outside for a walk. His stomach growled, so he scanned the street for a food stall. As he turned a corner, raised voices cut through the morning air.
"Hey! I saw you snatch that coin pouch from the old man!" someone shouted.
Rudravaan followed the sound and found Fenlor berating a teenage boy clutching a small pouch. "What happened?" Rudravaan asked.
Fenlor spun to face him. "I caught this kid stealing, but he won't admit it."
Rudravaan leaned forward and asked the boy. "Did you steal it?" The boy stood frozen, silent. Fenlor furious, "Answer him, you brat!"
Rudravaan's tone turned cold. "If you don't tell the truth, I have no choice but to—" Fenlor, startled by the words, stepped back as Rudravaan's hand slid toward the blade at his side. The subtle motion made both Fenlor and the boy flinch.
The boy began to cry. "I don't want to! The leader said if we don't do it, he'll kill me and my friends."
Fenlor clenched his fists. "How dare they force children into this. I'll gut him—"
"Wait," the boy wailed. "You don't understand. He has powerful supporters. He's stronger than most swordsmen in this kingdom."
Rudravaan raised an eyebrow. "Is your leader that strong?"
He turned to Fenlor. "So what will you do, Fenlor? He says his leader is stronger than many swordsmen."
Fenlor's expression hardened. "If he's really that strong… I'd like to see him try."
Rudravaan smiled faintly and asked the trembling boy, "Where is your leader now?"
The boy swallowed and said. "He stays near a small alley—the place they call Paradise. He's always there with his people."
As Fenlor walked ahead, Rudravaan and the boy followed close behind. The boy leaned toward Rudravaan and whispered, "Do you think the swordsman's really strong enough to defeat the leader?"
Rudravaan shrugged. "Well, I don't know whether he can or not."
The boy frowned. "Then why are you two fighting him?"
"He said he wanted to see how strong your leader is," Rudravaan replied casually.
"But what if he dies?" the boy asked, worry in his voice.
Rudravaan glanced down at him and said calmly, "Boy, no matter what happens, never accept defeat without fighting." Then he placed a reassuring hand on the kid's shoulder. "But you know what…"
He pulled a small bottle of beer from inside his cloak. "Look what I have."
The boy blinked. "You're joking, right? We're about to fight, and you're drinking?"
Rudravaan grinned. "Don't worry. He's the one who's going to fight, not me. Let me enjoy myself. By the way, you got a toothpick or something small?"
The boy sighed and handed him one. Rudravaan popped it in his mouth and took a swig from the bottle. The boy turned to Fenlor and shouted, "Hey, swordsman! Look at your friend—he's drinking!"
Fenlor didn't respond.
Rudravaan called out, "Hey, you need my help?"
Fenlor snapped, "Who needs your help?"
Rudravaan chuckled drunkenly. "See? He doesn't need my help."
The boy groaned. "Whatever… I guess I'm going to die today."
"Hey, don't say that," Rudravaan muttered, still sipping.
A few minutes later, Fenlor stopped walking. Rudravaan and the boy caught up and saw a broken signboard lying on the ground: Paradise.
"Is this the place?" Fenlor asked.
The boy's voice trembled. "Y-yes… this is it."
Rudravaan eyed the crumbling building ahead. "Huh. I thought it'd look nicer, given the name. Looks more like a dump than paradise."
Fenlor ignored him and walked in. Inside, a group of rough-looking men lounged around, drinking and laughing. Fenlor approached them and demanded, "Where's your leader?"
They burst out laughing. "You? Who the hell do you think you are, talking about our leader like that?"
Their laughter vanished in an instant as their hands drifted toward their weapons. One of them slipped behind Fenlor's blind spot and flicked a knife at his back—but before it could strike, Rudravaan flicked his toothpick, deflecting the blade with a sharp clang.
Everyone froze, stunned, as if trying to understand what just happened.
Rudravaan walked inside, the boy following nervously behind him.
Fenlor turned his head, eyes narrowing when he saw Rudravaan.
Rudravaan sighed. "Didn't you say you didn't need my help?"
Fenlor growled, "I didn't ask for it!"
"Whatever you say," Rudravaan muttered.
Fenlor, furious, drew his sword and lunged forward, clashing against four men at once. His movements were sharp and relentless—steel scraping against steel, sparks cutting through the air.
Rudravaan spotted a wooden box nearby, sat on it, and pulled out his bottle. "Don't just stand there," he said to the boy. "Come sit."
But the boy couldn't move. He stood frozen, watching Fenlor fight for his life—one man against four. Fenlor's focus was absolute, every strike deliberate. One opponent fell, then another, until finally all four collapsed, defeated and groaning on the ground.
Rudravaan stopped drinking and called out lazily, "Hey, can you keep going, or—"
Fenlor wiped his blade and said, "This is nothing."
The boy smiled with relief. "Thank you. I don't even know how to repay you."
Fenlor scoffed. "Oh? So you do know how to thank someone."
While they spoke, Rudravaan rose from his seat and walked toward one of the wounded men writhing on the floor. His steps were calm, his expression unreadable.
"Now," Rudravaan said, crouching down, "tell me—where's your leader?"
The man spat blood and turned his head away. "I'm not telling you anything."
Rudravaan picked up a knife from the ground and pressed it against the man's mouth. "If you don't answer by the time I count to five, I'll open your mouth for you."
The man glared, thinking he was bluffing. Rudravaan began counting softly. "One… two… three…"
The man didn't move.
Slash.
A scream tore through the room. The man clutched his face, blood spilling through his fingers, his mouth split open by a single, precise cut.
Rudravaan grabbed him by the collar, muffling his cry with one hand. His eyes were cold. "I warned you once. Now, where is your leader? If you make me count again, I'll start with your fingers—one by one."
The man trembled, voice breaking. "Straight ahead… there's a strange building—they call it Paradise. He's there with the others!"
Rudravaan asked, "How will I know him?"
The man stammered, "He always carries a sword. You'll know the moment you see him."
Rudravaan smiled faintly. "Good."
Without hesitation, he drove the knife clean into the man's throat. The body twitched once, then went still.
Silence fell. The air felt heavier—thick with the smell of blood and alcohol.
Fenlor and the boy stared, speechless.
Rudravaan wiped the blade on his sleeve and said quietly, almost to himself,
"Let's go. Paradise awaits."