Up until now, within the chambers of his heart that stirred, he knew he had thrown away his morals. The journal flashed in his mind, and memories flooded back to him.
The fourth prince, Nathaniel James, dashed towards the north side of the Kingdom of Grand, his unnamed crossbow at hand. Was it a rush of adrenaline that provided the fiery energy pumping in the course of his veins? Was it the fact that he wanted to help his brothers, even if it means abandoning the vows he swore upon himself?
What was the reason for his sudden shift in choosing rash decisions?
All of his questions dissipated the moment he arrived at the North's open field.
In his sight was a bloody ongoing battle between his brothers and a group of men that acted treason against their kingdom. He saw the eldest, one of whom he respected the most, impale his enemies that were on his way with his lustrous lance, controlling his white horse in all directions. He saw the youngest, who he knew was still lacking in his training, strike his sword with gritted teeth and draw back with heavy breaths.
For a quick fraction of a second, Prince Nathaniel's mind played a short nostalgic recollection of this field. The field before him flashed with vivid peaceful colors as tiny petals of dandelions whisked through the breeze. Sitting on the hill was a smiling woman, beckoning him to come over.
"Nathan..." her soft voice uttered with grace, "aren't the dandelions prettier when set free?"
The field then flashed back to a gory mess, the flowers trampled on and dead. He stared at them, his emotions unstable.
He was in a deep trance when he heard a familiar cry for help. He looked up and witnessed Prince Eugene Brancen fall from his horse, his lance now laid on the ground. Prince Jacob Erhart also witnessed the scene and ran forward, knowing the Heir's life was already at risk.
The fourth's eyes scanned the area and that's when he noticed something strange.
Their supposed invaders weren't invading. Instead, their attention was focused on the vulnerable Field Marshal. Like wild hyenas, the intensity of their gazes brought chills onto the prince's spine.
That's when he realized their plan.
"Their objective wasn't an invasion. It's a trap." He felt his chest tighten. "They want the Crown Prince's life."
His ability to grasp situations such as this was the fastest among the rest. That's why he was chosen to be the tactician. That's why he's the Brain.
And now he had to do something with the information he obtained.
With deep calm breaths, the prince concentrated on the sight in front of him and charged as he fired an arrow with his close-ranged weapon onto the enemies surrounding his two brothers.
Both turned their heads to where the arrow came from and gaped at the display of their younger brother approaching. The rugged men turned to the new combatant, leaving enough time for the First Field Marksman and the Heir to return to their stance and retrieve their armaments. Prince Nathaniel's method of distraction worked.
Soon, the fourth perceived most of their foes retreating.
"Judging from the current status, we are winning." He stated to himself, analyzing the location with calculating glares. "Agustus, they're on the run, what are we going to—"
Without letting him continue, the assassin beside him threw his royal-incrusted knives at the fugitives, making sure no one can escape. One by one, each body fell motionless to the damp earth, the tip of cold iron protruding out of their foreheads.
YOU ARE READING
Slowly and Painfully ー ✓
Fanfiction[COMPLETE] ❝Seven princes stood before me. But which of them is the one I seek?❞ Briar Rosette, a curious girl of the 21st century, was somehow captivated by one of History's greatest mysteries. It was the tale between the Painter and the Musician...
