Progeny of Fate

Aedan

I woke 48 hours ago, finding myself bleary eyed from the night's drunken stupor. Upon waking, I lifted my hands to my eyes to wipe the sleep from them only to find cold, heavy shackles hanging from my wrists. Initially, I panicked and searched my pockets for the folded piece of parchment containing the identities of last night's find. It's gone, taken along with the small knives once lining the folds of my jacket. Thankfully, I feel the familiar lumps of two knives hidden under the soles of my boots. However, the steel dagger that hung at my hip hidden underneath my pants is gone. Even my sword, perfectly balanced with a comfortable leather hilt has been relieved from my possession.

I had wracked my brain for memories fogged by drunkenness, recalling only bits. I must have incriminated myself in some way. Perhaps my displeasurable actions were connected with the childhood trauma Captain Bassek actively dredged up. I distinctly remember cracking a man's wrist, bloodying someone's- maybe two someones' noses, as well as Captain Bassek's untimely entry.

Fucking hell, I curse internally, realizing I've been a complete idiot. I knew the man was prodding me for some sort of undesirable reaction. Proof of my resentment of the king's past sins against me. Some slight reason, any reason at all to doubt my loyalty. I all but called the man Niklas in my mental haze.

I'd forced myself back to sleep for the long journey to the capital after finding myself disarmed and shackled. I now mull over the events of the days past, but also my future. The ride will be long, about a three days journey at our pace.

It has served my best interests to play King Hector's game. To do as I've been told. I have never much believed in Agni, or any god for that matter. Thus, killing wasn't much of a moral barrier for me. I know the Orders teach that morality preserves life, but I believe the opposite. You live and you die. Even the kindest souls are powerless against sharpened steel. No use worrying about the future when all that truly matters is the present. Nothing more is guaranteed.

The grim realization that my tomorrow is especially endangered causes my heart to beat rapidly in my chest and adrenaline to course through my veins. I force myself to breathe evenly and close my eyes, counting my breaths. My old master's voice reminds me,

The worst decisions are made in fear. Relax, Aedan. Think critically.

Lord Daemon wasn't the king's prized assassin for nothing; He was a master of death, yes, but also over his own mind and body. So I learn to master my own, every single day. I summon a pleasant memory— the fragrant acres of my family's vineyard in the summertime warmth. I remember my siblings vividly, their matching deep blue gaze, inherited from my mother. I spent afternoons laughing with my brother and sister, her long platinum hair flowing in a temperate breeze.Flegris summers never were scorching. That weather is reserved for the equatorial civilizations like Naidara, The Ciloco Isles, southern portions of the Zalasi continent, and I suppose the distant Cavanna would be positioned further south than north. Maps are few, but I'd laid eyes upon the king's map— just once. I'd been humbled by the vast expanse of the world.

Three men sit on a bench, supposedly guarding me, though all three are fast asleep, slouching against one another. A grin spreads across my face. I reach for my boots painstakingly slowly so as not to rattle the shackles on my hands. I carefully slide one off and free my knife. I grasp the thin blade by the handle, and artfully flick it across my knuckles then back again so it's firm in my grasp. Now for a little diversion.

"Driver! I need to relieve myself!" I holler at the top of my lungs making sure to rouse the sleeping soldiers guarding me. An answering thud on the front of the coach does nothing to dissuade me. The small knife is about the length of my middle finger, so I tuck it flat against my ring and middle finger for easy access. When he doesn't answer I call again, "Driver! It's urgent!"