While Vanward moved forward under cautious peace, the Kingdom of Lu rotted from within.
The day King Marsh Brandston was buried, his son was crowned.
Alex Brandston ascended the throne at the age of nineteen.
By sunset, half the palace staff already feared him.
Alex woke precisely at seven in the morning.
Not a minute earlier.
Not a second later.
Servants entered quietly, heads lowered, breaths held. The curtains were drawn back. Warm water was prepared. His clothes—black silk trimmed with crimson—were laid out perfectly.
Alex sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes like a bored child.
"Bath," he muttered.
They obeyed.
Steam filled the chamber as servants washed him, dried him, dressed him. He stared at his reflection while they worked—dark circles under sharp eyes, a smile that never reached them.
Tea was brought next.
A porcelain cup.
Perfect temperature.
Perfect aroma.
As a servant knelt to present it, his hand trembled.
Just a little.
A single drop of tea spilled onto Alex's shoe.
Silence.
Alex looked down.
Then he smiled.
"Oh," he said softly. "That's unfortunate."
He stood, took the serving tray from the servant's hands, and smashed it into the man's face.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Metal rang against bone.
Blood splattered the floor.
The servant collapsed, unmoving.
Alex dropped the bent tray, stepped over the body, and sighed.
"Clean that," he told the others calmly. "I'm bathing again."
No one spoke.
When he returned, freshly dressed once more, he drank his tea as if nothing had happened.
Later that morning, Alex entered the royal court.
The nobles were already assembled, whispering nervously. At the center of the hall stood a man unlike any they had seen before.
He was tall—too tall.
Broad, lean, and relaxed in posture, as if the court were a marketplace instead of a throne room.
A massive spear-like weapon, wrapped entirely in cloth, rested against his shoulder.
In his other hand—
A severed head.
Blood still dripped onto the marble floor.
Alex stopped.
Slowly, a grin spread across his face.
"Well," he said, clapping once. "This is already better than paperwork."
The man bowed casually.
"My name is Saru, Your Majesty."
His voice was calm. Almost cheerful.
"I'm from a tribe beyond your borders. My people exiled me, so I wandered."
Alex leaned forward on his throne. "And wandered… here?"
"Yes," Saru said. "Old Wilmington, right? Your capital."
The nobles stiffened.
Alex gestured. "Go on. I like stories."
Saru smiled wider.
"I arrived with a caravan. Got hungry. Found a bar."
Murmurs spread through the court.
"I sat down, ordered a drink, and overheard some of your soldiers talking," Saru continued. "They were discussing how being Commander of the Army pays well. High status. Comfortable life."
Alex's eyes glittered.
"So I asked them how to get the job."
Saru chuckled.
"They laughed. Said I'd need to kill the current commander."
A noble swallowed.
"So I asked where to find him."
Laughter echoed faintly in Saru's memory as he mimicked it.
"They said I'd have to beat one hundred soldiers before he'd even show up."
Saru shrugged.
"So I said, 'Okay.'"
They laughed.
One of them said, "Kill him."
Another said, "Better yet—beat a hundred soldiers and he'll come to you."
I nodded.
Then I slammed his head into the table so hard the wood split.
"One."
The court went dead silent.
The second soldier reached for his knife.
I punched him in the face. His nose bent sideways with a wet sound.
"Two."
Chairs scraped. Bottles shattered. Someone screamed.
Good.
Three rushed me together.
I jumped up, kicked off the wall, flipped over their heads, landed behind them on all fours, and swept their legs in one motion.
They hit the floor tangled together.
"Five. Six. Seven."
Alex laughed out loud.
"More soldiers came," Saru continued. "Including that pretty captain of yours. Casey, was it? Feminine name. Handsome face."
Several nobles flinched.
"I beat them too. I counted. Seven."
Saru tilted his head thoughtfully.
"I let poor Casey go. I don't want to harm that beautiful face. Told him to bring ninety-three more."
Gasps rippled through the court.
Then,
A dagger came for my ribs.
I ducked forward instead of back, slipped inside the strike, and drove my elbow into the man's throat.
"Eight."
Another swung a sword.
I leaned sideways, let the blade shave cloth, grabbed his ankle, twisted, and let gravity finish him.
"Nine."
My body loosened.
Walls became paths. Tables became weapons. People became numbers.
A spear thrust toward my chest—I grabbed the shaft, ran along it, kicked the wielder in the face, landed behind him, and chopped the back of his neck.
"Twelve."
A mace came down.
I caught it mid-swing, redirected it into another soldier's ribs.
"Thirteen."
Blood slicked the floor. I adjusted my footing.
"Sixteen. Seventeen."
Pretty man Casey. Clean stance. Trained. Attacked me.
He nearly cut me.
Nearly.
I bent backward until my spine screamed, let his sword whistle over my face, rolled and ignored him. He's a cutie.
"Go get more," I told him.
He hesitated.
So I smiled. A smile that scared him.
He ran.
My count went up to,
"Twenty-one."
They came in waves after that.
I stopped seeing faces.
Only movement.
Only numbers.
"Thirty-two."
"Forty."
"Fifty."
Bodies piled outside the pub. Weapons snapped. Groans filled the air.
"At ninety-three, this man arrived."
Alex rose from his throne, descending the steps slowly.
"He raised his arm," Saru said. "I asked if he was the commander. He said yes."
Saru smiled.
"You came before I reached hundred, disappointed".
"So I cut off his head and came straight here."
The head rolled from his hand and stopped at Alex's feet.
Silence.
"So the post is available, right?"Saru asked.
Then—
Alex burst into laughter.
He laughed until tears streamed down his face.
"Incredible!" he gasped. "You beat these bastards with just your fist?"
Alex wiped his eyes and stepped closer.
Alex threw an arm around Saru's shoulders.
"Welcome aboard."
The nobles froze.
Alex leaned close. "What should I call you?"
Saru scratched his chin.
"They say my movements are like a monkey."
He grinned.
"So call me Monkey."
Alex laughed again, louder than before.
"A madman and his monkey," he said delightedly. "Lu is going to be fun."
And far away—
Vanward would soon feel the consequences.