The Witch's Cursed Daughter

64. Four Years On

With Julian, Romile, and Voster fighting on the frontlines, days turned into months which grew into years. Achieving a slim victory over Rohnelle's attack force, Julian's army was commanded to sweep towards the North's capital, claiming the land for Waldemyre. The endless battles were funded by the sudden ongoing supply of precious gems the royal family had procured, which Julian knew to be Evianna. Paying off its debt, Waldemyre was freed from financial struggle in less than two years, becoming independent from other nations and instead targeted them for their resources and land.

Portraying Julian as a warmonger, King Yaalon ordered attacks on other kingdoms. Through battle, the second prince claimed most of Rohnelle to the north from the half-beasts residing in the snowy mountains and Hasimat to the east from the warriors who painted their foreheads. Along with the southern borders at Bulen who hold purity of race above birth rights, and two islands of the Tolimn mutes in the northeast sea. These almost simultaneous victories granted Waldemyre leave to develop into an Empire. Flourishing from the sale of jewels and resources secured through warfare, the King, turned Emperor, looked for ways to solidify his position in fear of Julian's return.

Having remained together throughout the wars, Julian, Romile, and Voster were fighting in Bulen while most other soldiers were engaged in Tolimn. The frontlines were hazardous, with less than half the manpower needed; the three of them relied heavily on one another.

Romile was slashing at a group of knights decked in Bulen's purple sashes, axe blades attached to the hilts of their swords. The rotten stench of burning flesh filled the air while bodies piled onto one another as Romile's blade cinged the soldiers. As he concentrated on the fight before him, an enemy soldier approached from behind, riding a Sapling Dragon. As the Dragon stretched out its claws, blackness engulfed the entirety of its frame, rider and all. Bulen's men, seeing their comrade's scream-less death, fled, leaving Romile gasping for breath before glaring at Julian.

"I thought I warned you about setting your Void free!" Romile yelled, climbing up a dirt mound to meet the now teenage prince. Sitting atop his Peryton, a creature with the body of a deer and the wings of an eagle, Julian looked unnervingly regal, surrounded by death and flame.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice," Julian beamed as he dismounted, "Besides, do I look like I am out of control?" Lightly he waved his sword before Romile; his dark aura licking at the air greedily, making him smile.

"That would depend on who you're asking, Your Highness."

Julian sighed and shook his head, jumping back onto his steed; he took off into the air, leaving Romile to find his own way back to camp. Romile watched the Peryton disappear into the harsh sunlight; Julian had changed. In the past, he would scarcely use his aura as it ate everything around him, growing more powerful as it did, yet now his eyes danced as he devoured his prey, like an ever-hungry beast.

Arriving back at camp after an arduous journey over corpses and discarded weapons, Romile made his way over to Julian's tent only to be greeted by Voster as he arrived. Walking in together, Voster wasted no time before announcing, "Your Highness, you have a guest."

Before Julian had the chance to ask who the visitor was, the answer made its way inside. A familiar figure from the capital stood in the middle of the tent, signs of exhaustion more prevalent than ever as black bruises inched down to his cheeks.

"Thank you for your service over the last four years," Wen said dryly, "It is now time for us to complete our old bargain."

Smirking, Julian dropped himself into a seat by the map table, kicking off his boots. "Has the time come already?"

Romile and Voster exchanged a glance as Wen's brow twitched. "Yes, the way the troops are positioned around the continent, should they all charge towards Kenellor at once, there will be slim chances for the Emperor to defend."

"But there are defences in place," Voster interjected.

"Indeed, Illea will defend, and aggressively at that. Do you remember why she was granted the title of Lady Myrde at ten years old?"

Julian reached across the table to pick up a small castle sculpture. Rocking it in his hand, he replied, "She held back the entire Rohnelle army by herself for two days before help arrived, stopping an invasion." Suddenly he released his aura, swallowing the ornament whole. Wen's eyes widened momentarily before returning to their normal state; Romile felt panic rise from his knees, Julian's carelessness in demonstrating his Blade Master ability was foolish, yet he didn't care. Years at war had twisted the young prince's personality; he had become a monster that existed for entertainment and bloodshed.

As the others in the tent watched Julian's odd behaviour, he stopped, tilting his head as if his thoughts were whispering to him. "But how did she do that?"