Page 17 of A Simple Truth

GIDEON

The loud clicks of iron horseshoes against the cobbled street echoed through the foggy, provincial town as layers of winter clouds obstructed the twilight sky. My lungs filled with the familiar, moldy air, courtesy of the ever-running Rusty Canal, which surrounded the town. I glanced over at the few small shops and stores as my fully armored soldiers slowly marched ahead. Each mossy stone stood exactly as it had twenty years ago. Innocent memories were tucked in between those narrow alleys and hidden alcoves, in between those misshapen stone and wooden buildings. However, nothing brought as many memories as the large fortress, which was perched on its own island amidst the murky waters.

The Blackstone Castle gleamed in its full glory against the evening haze. Heavy clouds lingered on its tall, rounded towers as sky bridges connected a labyrinth of pillars, reaching far into the sky. The entire castle was an all-encompassing black, swallowing the light around it like a void. A Destroyer’s citadel, yet there was nothing resembling looks and luxury; just sheer, brute force and power built into never-ending walls, all charcoaled by Justice Fire.

I looked over at my battalion, following closely behind; lines of soldiers dressed in silver armor, trailed in unity like silent predators. The vibrating rock was the only sign of the Destroyer army approaching.

“Ready?” Orest asked as we got closer to the big, iron gates, making our way down the large drawbridge and over the dark waters of the canal. I nodded, putting on my hefty helm. The pervasive discontentment was settling down deep in my bones, and I had only made it to the gates.

My lip curled down as we passed through the fortress’s thick walls at last, entering the clean and spacious courtyard. I deliberately reeled in whatever irritation lingered under my skin, replacing it with the casual, almost bored look of the Destroyer General.

The few soldiers still lingering in the enclosure straightened up, their eyes warily watched us file in, some of them hastily scattering away from my battalion.

The corner of my mouth tugged upward in a satisfied smirk as I smelled fear thickly laced within the foggy air, fear caused by my arrival.

I guess some things truly didn’t change here.

I let the silver flames flicker in my eyes amidst the dusky evening, for all to see, for all to know.

The Lord of Death had come home.

13

GIDEON

“Long time no see, Gideon Bellator.” Lachlan Byrningham’s deep voice echoed through the domed ceiling of the throne room as I marched across the deep green plush floors. His dark silver armor, similar to my own, reflected the warm light of the oil lamps around us. He adjusted his bright red cape as he rested his elbows on the armrests of the large, cushioned chair.

“Hello, Lachlan.” I pulled off my armored glove and shook the extended hand of my previously close friend. Lachlan ran his hands through his unkempt, shoulder-length black hair, then put his legs up on the table as he leaned back in his chair.

“So, how is the good ol’ North treating our dearLord of Death?” he purred, his eyes lighting up with wicked mischief.

“Judging by your looks, I’d say better than the South is treating you,” I replied, earning a meager chuckle from him as he scratched his slightly-overgrown beard.

“Can’t argue with you there. The South can be quite a bitch with that brutal nonstop sun and the desert storms. I am pretty sure my lungs are filled with red sand nowadays. But, at least in the South, we have the most beautiful women, the mostgivingtoo. Speaking of that,” he paused, his eyes roguishly narrowing at the reserved Orest who was standing a few steps behind the chair I now reclined in. “How is your dear cousin doing by the way?” He returned his cruel eyes back to me.

A threatening snarl escaped from Orest at his words, the sound earning a satisfied sneer from Lachlan.

“Zorianna is doing quite well, actually, thank you for checking.” I politely smiled, though my eyes flashed with warning.

Close. He was pushing it too close.

But Lachlan backed off as our heads turned to the swinging double doors. Another Destroyer general marched in, his gray cape flowing in his wake. He was well past his fifties, with well-trimmed silver hair and wrinkled skin highlighting his harsh features.

“Generals,” he groused.

“Hello, Andrias.” Lachlan nodded in a welcoming manner as he deliberately moved his feet slow off Andrias’s spot. “How is our dearest East doing at this trying time?” Lachlan amusingly sang out the question as Andrias plopped on the chair.

“Fuck off, Lachlan,” the newly arrived Destroyer general snarled at him, twisting his gray cape out of the way.

“Whoa, Andrias, is that a proper way to treat a dear friend and fellow general?” Lachlan theatrically bunched his brows together.

“You are a prick, Lachlan. I never liked you and never will. Not when you were first sworn in, and not now. If not for my respect for your father, I’d shove you back to the stables where you belong,” Andrias spat out, taking a sip of water from his flask.

“Oh, Andrias, as always, you’re not so keen on pleasantries. I might be a prick, but at least I don’t need my wife’s fortuneto pay my soldiers,” Lachlan nonchalantly replied, aware of the deep mark those words took on Andrias as his face turned sour.

I couldn’t resist a sly smirk at that comment, just quick enough to let the slithering eyes of Lachlan notice the subtle approval. But he wasn’t the only one to spot the gesture, as Andrias bitterly added,

“Childish fools…Though Gideon, I am not surprised. You’ve always tended to like things that are not quite of age, haven’t you? Seems that preference crossed over even when picking your second.” He angrily glared towards Orest. I didn’t have to look back to know that my second held his head high, but Andrias continued,

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