The Beginning of a War

“Retreat!” the prince shouted so loud Liam had to cover his ears, “We’re leaving!”

Several of his knights glanced over to their leader gesturing to get away, some continued to fight while the rest immediately began rushing after horses or simply running into the forest.

The day was growing darker, and so was the forest. Liam could only glance back at the people who chose to stay put and those who ran into a darkness. As night enveloped the world, bright and sharp light still lit up the camp, the fires had yet to subside. Amongst the chaos, illuminated by the flames, stood Karth watching him.

The villain of the story turned out to be him. A sinking feeling grew in the pits of Liam’s stomach, after a while of riding further and further away, it seemed like Karth’s silhouette was still turned to them until the only thing visible was the faint light which soon also disappeared.

Liam closed his eyes. They had been so heavy it nearly hurt to let them rest.

Once he woke up, there was a sharp light in his eyes, he covered his face with his arm. The brightness hurting his vision reminded him of Karth, suddenly he sprung up. He looked around him.

He was in a room. White walls, decorated with big paintings of various images; some were people, cities, animals, while others were nature, pure nature. There was a desk in one of the corners, stacks of books and papers lay on it. Looking at it from above, you’d never guess there even was a desk underneath.

Glancing in both directions, Liam noticed he was lying in quite the bed, it was large enough for three more of him to share, and the pillows were soft like clouds.

Liam groaned as he tried to sit on the bed's edge. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where he was; the grandiose decor and massive bed alongside the golden pricketts scattered around the room told him exactly where he was, the castle!

And just as he thought of that, the doors creaked open. He expected to see a servant or someone with a similar status, not the prince himself!

“Liam, my dearest friend. How are you holding up? You must have been through so much in the past few days! Why would you stray away from the hunting party like that?” Prince Colinus worriedly asked.

His fret appeared genuine, Liam observed him for a moment before answering the man’s question. He wasn’t wearing the green clothes with silver armour anymore, instead he wore a simple, yet sophisticated, white shirt with golden cuffs. The pants were a simple dark grey and from his shoulders hung a royal blue cape with a stunning ermine.

“I-I’m sorry,”

“Is that all you can say after disappearing and getting kidnapped?!” Colinus' voice rose, but when he noticed Liam flinching from his words, he quieted down. A servant hiding behind him pulled the chair from the desk and placed it next to the bed.

Colinus waved his hand and the servant scattered away in silence. He let out a small sigh and sat down, “I apologise. It wasn’t your fault, I was just worried.”

The prince’s head dropped and for some reason, Liam couldn't help himself and reached out to ruffle the prince's hair

It was soft. Not like a puppy, but a puppy's ears. So cuddly you can't help yourself from petting. - it felt like something he'd done before.

"You must have really hit your head," the prince laughed.

"Why do you say that?" Liam asked.

Colinus turned to him, looking concerned, he asked back, "You don't remember?"

"What?"

The prince sighed, "The doctor did say you might not remember everything, but you're like a new person,"

"..."

The room became quiet. Something heavy was on Colinus' shoulders. His mouth turned dry. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it just as fast. Eventually he let out another sigh.

"It doesn't matter. I'm glad you're back,"

While Colinus sat weighing his conversation options, Liam tried to remember his past; more specifically, his character's past.

And with some effort he did manage to conjure up some information.

They shared the same name, however, this man was wealthy. He was a pure-breed aristocrat, the snobby type. Sharing the basic views of the rich, this man saw himself above others and it did not help him in his friend making.

Rude and scheming. It was truly a wonder as to why the prince would keep him around. From what one could understand, this brat's attitude didn't change because he was pals with royalty, it was instead painted with a thin layer of a decent personality but even that had begun cracking.

Truly a man from the bottom of the barrel. A real scum.

Seeing that the prince gave the impression of someone happy to have his friend lose his memory, Liam said, “No, I remember. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You what? But you’re not acting like yourself at all!” Colinus pushed the chair back to stand up. Had there been a table between them he surely would’ve slammed his fist into it.

Liam backed away, trying to shuffle his body away from the man who was growing furious. “Calm down now,I didn’t mean it like that. Um, I just meant that, um, near death experiences change a man!” he shouted out.

“You nearly died!?”

“No. No. No. Absolutely not,” he answered. It was starting to seem like that whenever he brought up nearly dying or practically anything negative about himself, the prince would begin yelling. To care for a friend so deeply is sweet, but Liam needed the prince as far away from him as possible!

Perhaps he should make a run for it later, when he’s alone, he thought.

“Anyway’s, your Majesty-”

Colinus frowned. ‘Your Majesty’ earned me a glare! Liam cried inside.

“Colinus.”

“Right. Colinus, yes. Either way, it would seem as if my memory is still a bit hazy, so I wanted to ask about the, um, ‘people’ who kidnapped me,” he asked nervously. He didn’t know how Colinus would react.

“The Khethover?”

“Hm?” that had to be what Karth was! “Yeah, could you tell me about them?”

The prince’s frown deepened.

“What’s there to say? They’re a pest, always causing trouble in the villages nearby! Even having the audacity to seek an audience with the royal family only to ridicule them!”

This last comment referred to an incident taking place roughly twenty-two years in the past. Colinus had been a child back then, nearing his third birthday. It was a hot day in may, or it had been if this world used the concept of months, instead they did use the familiar term ‘seasons’ in which each season simply was divided into two. You had winter, spring, fall and summer. You also had late winter, late spring, late fall and late summer; which then meant that the first categories could be referred to as “early” winter, and so on.

The so-called “dispute” in Colinus' kingdom - back then the land was led by his father, Alessandre - wasn’t as severe as it was now; where people would tremble at even the smallest of hints towards the Khethover leader, Lord Karthremith, who in stories was described as being the worst of the worst, more heinous than the Strigoi, and, on occasion, faster than magic users. There were no lies here.

Though there was one rumour that had gone through a rough path during the whispering game, and it was the leader’s appearance. At first he was described as frightening, cold and with a glare of death. Which was accurate to certain standards. Now that some time had passed you’d think the guy was a mix between a vampire, a werewolf and an ogre. The constant chattering and gossip-sharing between villages continuously added new details such as pointy ears, sharp claws or green skin.

But there really was no stopping them once people began their delusions.

These rumours had been the source of Liam’s misconception. With a barely usable memory, no 0ne would have thought the “pointy ears - sharp claws - green skinned”, leader of the Khethover clan, was Karth! If anything, he was the opposite. Although being heinous and such reached closer to the truth than it did being lies…

King Alessandre was a righteous man, and as King of the kingdom known as Luria, he had the domains best at heart. Always. And with a mindset like that, he was of course delighted when his chef, who took over for the usual letter-reading guy as he was sick this particular day, read out a letter from the Lord Karthremith himself, “Sire, Lord Karthremith of the Khethover clan, Mage of Evil, Servant of Darkness, Master of Shadows-”

“Does it say all that in the letter?”

“Hm? No, it is for added effect, your Majesty,”

The King grunted. “Just get on with it,”

“Right. Apologies.” the chef had said. He was known to be the chattiest worker in the castle, hence people preferred him to work in the kitchen. Originally, he’d applied to be a butler but he didn’t stop talking until the interview was interrupted, to the interviewer’s relief, when the kitchen was understaffed and begged for helpers. He had volunteered, and until now he remained in that kitchen.

“They have asked for an audience with the royal family, my lord,”

“Really?” the King leaned forward in his chair, “Did they state why?”

The chef skimmed the letters contents once more and shook his head, “Afraid not,”

The King thought about it. Eventually he said, “Allow an audience!”