The 100 Days War - Chapter 10

What does it mean to be a knight of the Demon Emperor?

In the vast emptiness of her mind, Mania’s words resounded inside Hilda’s head.

First, let me ask you this - what makes one worthy to serve the Demon Emperor?

Is it loyalty?

Loyalty is nothing without conviction.

Is it strength?

Strength is nothing if one’s weaknesses can be exploited.

Then, is it the willingness to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals?

No!

Hilda picked up her spear and slowly raised herself from her meditative kneeling position.

What it means to be a knight of the Demon Emperor is the willingness to discard everything that you are, and reforge yourself as his blade, his armour, a tool for him to use as he pleases!

Anything less than that is worthless!

To become his knight, you must overcome all of these things and more.

You must be stronger than everyone, more loyal than anyone, and willing to act without a moment’s hesitation.

Footsteps drew closer to Hilda from three different directions.

With her eyes still closed, she readied herself for combat; then, once her attackers drew closer, she struck.

With seven powerful thrusts and flurries, all of her attackers were knocked onto their backs.

Only then, once she was confident that they had fallen, did she open her eyes.

“…Too weak.”

Hilda handed her spear over to one of the maids as two more removed her helmet.

Her attackers, three of her recruits, were groaning and rolling on the floor, blood pouring from the wounds she’d inflicted.

“If you…cannot land a…hit…on me…then…you won’t…be of…any use to…his majesty.”

Today’s brutal training assignment had been as simple as that - land a single blow upon the Satyr Knight.

So far, all fifty recruits had failed to come close to her, and Hilda had fought them all blind.

She didn’t need to, nor had Mania ever had her fight with her eyes shut or her vision impaired.

No, this was Hilda’s own choice to make herself even stronger.

Someone started applauding from the shadows - it was a clap Hilda was very familiar with.

“I’m impressed, Hilda - you’re harder on them than I ever was on you.”

“I know.” The recruits all bowed when Mania entered, even those who had been bleeding on the floor just seconds ago. “But…I learnt…something the day…Themis…fell.”

“Oh?”

“Even…now, I’m…not strong…enough.” She looked down at her hands as she curled her left into a fist. “His majesty’s…enemies…are many and…some…are strong. We…I…need to be stronger…than…any of…them.”

Mania grinned. “That’s wonderful to hear, Hilda. Oh, and.” She leant close to Hilda’s ear and whispered, “I’m very excited to see what your little pets can do in the future.”

“Don’t worry…about…them. I swear…that they will…be worthy…knights, ready for…our…counterattack.”

***

“Prince Augustus, do you have a-?” Count Barthlow smiled when he looked out into the courtyard. “I didn’t know her highness knew how to wield a sword."

“She doesn’t. Dame Chelsea is reluctantly teaching Aeila how to fight.”

“Reluctantly?”

Prince Augustus sighed wearily. “A few days ago, Aeila was bedbound and barely had the energy to eat her meals. Then, she woke up the next day and declared that she wanted to be like Saint Themis, a warrior queen with no equal in this world.”

“Well, except Karak-Harth, and maybe the Demon Emperor.”

“If we’re continuing that analogy Count Barthlow, then the Demon Emperor will fall like the Great Traitor did at my sister’s hands.”

Count Barthlow burst out into laughter. “Now that would be a sight to see. Nothing quite beats seeing a legend being born before your very eyes, my prince.”

“…I didn’t feel the same when I saw the Legend of the Demon Emperor.”

“My prince?”

“I’ve overheard some rumours from the visiting merchants and caravans. People speak of the Demon Emperor as if he will bring a great disaster upon the whole world, plunging it into eternal darkness with no hope for salvation. They say he stands twenty metres tall and that the earth shakes with his every step.” Prince Augustus clicked his tongue. “The Legend of the Demon Emperor is greatly exaggerated already.”

“There’s some truth to it though, isn’t there?” The two looked at each other and Count Barthlow smiled. “Not those bits you mentioned, but that makes the lie all the more effective, my prince.”

“…I know, I know. It’s just…” The prince turned his attention back to Aeila. “I don’t want her to fight such a monster.”

“Even if she was to be the next Saint Themis and save the whole world?”

Prince Augustus laughed bitterly. “My baby sister has the strength to wield a sword, while I bend the knee to a count from a foreign country. Julius would’ve mocked me to no end.”

“My prince, I-”

“Count Barthlow, you can bring me victory in this fight, yes?”

“Of course, my-”

“I’m weak, Barthlow. Weaker than you, weaker than my sister, weaker than my brother’s corpse. Even now, my sister’s able to face forward while I drag my heels in the ground.”

The two men stood in silence, one watching the young woman train whilst the other stared at the other man, lost, both unable to find the next words to say.

Prince Augustus had been an intelligent, powerful member of the Holy Empire of Themis, but he had been stripped of all that which granted him his strength.

For the first time in his life, he was well and truly powerless.

He had crushed his pride to enlist Count Barthlow’s aid and he had stepped away from his duties, deeming himself unable to fulfil them.

It was a place the count was all too familiar with.

After a moment’s more silence, Count Barthlow decided to tell his story to the young prince.

“When I was nine years old, my uncle was murdered by bandits. They hadn’t been paid by some rival of our family nor were they highly skilled mercenaries; they were peasants with almost blunt weapons. My father said that it couldn’t be helped because our family wasn’t strong enough, so I asked him why we were weak?”

Count Barthlow grunted. “He smacked me round the back of the head for that. Granted, I asked that question at my uncle’s funeral, but it was hardly a justified reaction. It’s funny, isn’t it? He was okay with pointing out our family’s weakness but didn’t like it when his son said the same thing.

“So, from that day forth, I vowed to become my family’s strength, whilst my father lamented at his weakness, my mother drunk cheap wine and my sisters played ignorantly with the maids. Only I seemed to care about our family, our lands, our power. The others had just accepted that we were weak; a weak, obscure family with no worries or need to step into the greater political game of Rhodes.

“By the time I was fifteen, I had managed to oust my father as the head of our house unofficially and reduced him to nothing more than a puppet. Once I turned eighteen, I took full control and exiled my parents.”

“That’s rather cold-hearted of you.”

Count Barthlow grinned. “They thought so too. So, I told them to fight their way back with all their strength, but neither of them did much other than bitch and whine. With a small bag of coins, they were gone and I haven’t seen them since. I threatened to do the same to my sisters if they didn’t step up, and they quickly fell into line.

“After that, I started doing exactly what I’d always planned to do; grow strong. I did whatever necessary to climb up from the shadows and into the light. I had my rivals murdered, their lands burnt and pillaged; I incited riots and rebellions, all in the name of becoming strong.

“Before anyone had realised it, I had become a threat and even the king himself knew of my name and deeds.”

“Even what you did to your rivals?”

“Everyone in Rhodes knows what I’ve done to get here. And I don’t care. My prince, if you want to succeed in this campaign, you need to be willing to make sacrifices. You need to be willing to drag down your rivals and climb over their corpses. You need to be strong.” He firmly gripped the prince’s shoulder. “Your sister understands this, and I know you do deep down; you just need to find your resolve to do so.”

“Even if it means burning half of Themis to the ground?”

“My prince, Themis is gone - only the Demon Empire remains.” With one final pat, Count Barthlow released Prince Augustus and started to walk away; then, he turned around and said, “Honour and integrity are wonderful things, but only if you are the victor.”

With those parting words, Count Barthlow left Prince Augustus to watch his sister’s training alone.

Aeila was knocked to the ground once again by her knight, but she grit her teeth, stood her bruised body back up and asked her to continue.

…If only you were here with us, mother, father, Julius.

If you were, I know I’d be able to do this.