Blood for her Crown

Chapter One

Ciden

He was already picturing the gruesome ways in which they would kill him, as he looked down at the cold, ruthless streets of Ernagin.

Ciden Ammadon stood at the only little window his room harboured in an tavern, he couldn't even pronounce the name of.
From this evening on, he wouldn't have to anymore. He had already run out of gold coins the day before, and barely managed to bargain for another night there.

The tavern had no edible food, the bed was uncomfortable, and the roof leaky. Nevertheless, he preferred this small, messy room over a life on the streets.
He just found himself in another situation of defeat, accepting that there were no options left for him.

Only few survived even a single night out there on their own. He knew the odds weren't in his favor this time.

It would get dark soon. If he wanted to have the slightest chance of survival this night, he had to go now.

He hoped to find a safe place where he could hide until the next day. If there even was such a place in this town...
But since that was his only hope, he started gathering his few belongings: a dirty black cloak, one spare shirt, a dagger and the key to this room. When he stood in front of the door, he looked over the small space for one last time—the only place he had been safe in for the past two weeks.

Letting out a deep breath, he stepped through the doorway and walked down the stairs. At this time of day, many people enjoyed waisting away their life to play cards, drink one beer after another, seek company, or eat whatever what was left from the day. This sight made the hunger he had repressed for the past two days come back. He didn't even have enough coins for food.

He watched those people laughing; the people who could return to a safe home, to partners who loved them, to their kids, their family. He missed the feeling of being welcomed somewhere. To have a place he could call home.

He hated how quickly he had started pitying himself. And once again he wondered how his life had turned like this.

Since it didn't do him any good to stand there and feel sorry for himself any longer, he had to go, so he gave the key to men at the counter and left.

The last step through the doorway felt like the final step over a plank.

He didn't have any skills of fighting and was clueless how to defend himself against the monsters on these streets. Unfortunately, Ciden had no choice but to go on, so he started to walk disoriented through the still deserted alleyways. He avoided the dark and narrow paths in his search. His steps were getting faster and faster with every passing minute.

After half an hour, he still couldn't find a place that would keep him safe. Time was running out. And when he heard shouts nearby, he knew his time was up. So he ran through the street, heading in the opposite direction, not knowing where it would lead.

Right up to his death, it appeared.

Four tall, muscular men, armed with rusted axes and swords covered in dried blood, just stepped out of the house to his left. He didn't know much about these men, only what people told each other on the streets—what they warned each other about. He knew that they were solely out to kill.

Hoping they didn't see him in the shadows, he was about to turn around when, all of a sudden, someone wrapped an arm around his throat and pressed a gloved hand to his mouth. Then he felt the light sting of a dagger against his chest. The person had sneaked up on him, completely soundless. Ciden expected him to either slit his throat right then and there, or bring him to his friends. Instead, he was drawn to the house to his right. When he tried desperately to get free, he thought he heard an annoyed sigh from behind him.