Prophecy Of Kings: Volume 1 ✔️

For the Reviewers and Judges of Competitions/Awards

Hello! If you are a normal reader, please skip this chapter and start on the chapter titled "prologue"

For any reviewers or judges, welcome! Please use this Chapter to judge my book, as it contains the Prologue and first ten chapters of my book in a more organised and edited version. Thank you.

When pasting this over from my offline manuscript, there seems to be an issue with the spacing on mobile, however, it is fine on Wattpad Web.

Prologue

The church bells clanged the eleventh hour. The ceremony had begun. Nine, ten, eleven. Silence. And then, a voice whispered from the deepest realms of his mind.

I thought this was what I wanted?

The Knight genuflected deeply in front of his King, causing the tail of his ceremonial cape to skirt the floor. Approaching him, the King fastened the breast star around his neck, clinking as it brushed the polished steel of his armour. It was blazoned with the Royal Arms of England -three golden lions- which were reserved only for His Royal Majesty and the highest ranking nobility.

"Rise, Firmin, Knight Commander, leader of the King's guard."

Firmin arose to the thunderous applause of the crowd that filled the throne room.

I have strived my entire life to reach this moment and yet.. .

"You will lead my army North to defeat the raging Bulls of Carlyle."

I would give it up in a heartbeat, but I can't turn back now.

"We will show them no mercy, for God and Country!" Shouted the King over Firmin's head, out into the rabble.

The crowd erupted once more as Firmin lowered his head, and backed away from his King. He turned, striding down the ruby carpeted stairs and through the masses. A hero.

How could I have known I would have to sell my soul to achieve my dreams? I became a Knight to be a herald of peace, yet, I have never been farther from it.

Chapter 1

"We have won." Edward fell to his knees as the strained words barely left his lips. The syrupy mire clung to his armour as he lay in it, exhausted from the battle that had just taken place. The Royal army had triumphed over Clan Carlyle, so the lands of Caer-Luil now belonged to the King of England.

"To your feet Prince Edward." The Knight Commander of the King's guard, Firmin, emerged from the ashen fog that had consumed the battlefield. A miasma of rotten flesh stung the back of his throat as he spoke, clinging to the stale air around him.