Cadell nursed his wounds. After each ping of pain, he would take a sip of mead. It was good he had not had anything for a morning meal, otherwise that would have been ejected from his stomach.

  The mess hall was astir as always. He hated the bloodlust and anticipation in the room. Still, it was the best place to blend in and not be singled out.

  Thankfully, Rune had grown bored of him, though whether that would last was up to the depraved man’s own mind. This time had only been a physical beating, and a brief one at that. He had suffered much more at the hands of that man. No matter the Divine Hammer’s justification for such actions, it was ultimately cruelty for the sake of self-satisfaction.

  Cadell wanted to create a world where such things did not exist, or were at the very least not tolerated.

  But here he was, as low as his position allowed him to be.

  Familiar faces passed him by, but not those of friends. No, those resided in Gryfinfel. There was only one here he could truly call a friend, decrepit as he might be. After his orders were received, he would go and see him, perhaps coax him out of his enclosure.

  “If it isn’t Cadell,” A man said.

  “It is. A rarity,” Another responded.

  Two brigands, Kur and Mur, approached. They were similar to Rune, though they held no illusions about their brutish nature.

  “Summoned for the war council,” Kur said in a snicker.

  “Pointless if you ask me, brother,” Mur commented.

  Cadell sighed, setting his mug of mead down. They loomed over him. The countless other souls in the area ignored this conflict. At the edge of the large room, a different fight broke out. Roars of excitement and calls for bloodshed followed.

  That was the Uxson way.

  By all accounts, Cadell should crack their heads against each other and beat them into submission. Or, kill them in a duel.

  But that was not his way.

  Not only because he was physically unable to, but because an unnecessary battle between allies was pointless.

  Words can work sometimes, too.

  Despite his aches from his previous beating, Cadell summoned the brightest smile he could. “I agree. I would rather not have had to come here.”

  “So the Keep is not good enough for him?” Kur hissed.

  “Seems that way, brother, he’s looking down on all us brave soldiers,” Mur spat.

  “Then perhaps we should teach him the honor of a Uxson.”

  “I agree.”

  Still maintaining his composure, Cadell said, “Oh, it’s grander than I. That is why I should reside in Gryfinfel.”

  Kur grabbed his right arm. “You’re not getting out of this.”

  Mur grabbed his left arm. “You’re coming to the training grounds with us.”

  As he was dragged off, Cadell made sure to remind himself of his discipline and past. He was used to this; he would endure. Besides, as brutal as this may be, he could use it for training.

  In the bowels of Black Perch Keep resided one of its many training grounds. This particular one was enclosed; no natural light would reach it. Fitting, as Cadell had difficulty finding that light in his heart as he faced the trial before him.

  Wood clanked off of wood, then against flesh as bones reverberated the blow. Cadell dropped his wooden stick and fell to the ground. This brutalization, combined with Rune’s earlier treatment, was overwhelming him.

  At least they were not using their steel to batter him. No, they would not do that. That is the only thing they cannot do. They will not kill me.

  He stumbled back to his feet as the two morons chuckled obliviously. Kur and Mur were no Divine Hammers, not even close. However, they were above the average strength of an Uxson soldier. One as a sparring partner would have already been too much for him.

  But now he was being attacked by both at the same time. Beaten to a bloody mess, he could not even bring himself to frown. He could not curse his luck or fate. So instead, he smiled in the face of this adversity. Spit into the abyss of despair.

  “There’s his creepy smile again, Mur,” Kur said.

  “A freak as always, Kur,” Mur responded.

  Cadell retrieved his training stick. This was far from over. The two summoned their deities, both tiny, gremlin creatures that sat on their shoulders respectively. He barked a mocking laugh. For two who touted their strength so brazenly, their deities were meek and pathetic.

  The two approached with grim faces, only understanding that an insult had been implied, but not knowing the reason.

  It was not as if the appearance mattered in any case. Cadell would be pummeled by their internal touch, strengthening each blow. He also possessed the same kind of deity, but as to its appearance, he could only guess at how pathetic it was.

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  As the duo of brothers approached, it was time to summon his deity. A cold sweat on his neck told him the entity was there. Then the wall was there. Push as he might, strain against the boulders of his inner mind, only a small stream was forced through. That was all he could produce with all his effort.

  It was still enough to give him strength, but to maintain the ability cost him his focus.

  Some days were better than others, but this was not a good day.

  Still, he met their wooden practice weapons. Cadell trained vigorously every day, not only his minuscule deity usage, but also his skill with an axe. All to close the gap between him and the other Uxsons.

  A ferocious sparing match, where Cadell made his best attempt to isolate one opponent at a time. Striking at any weak points, desperately trying to claw out any advantage for himself.

  Like everything in his life, it was not enough.

  A savage strike from both sides sent him to the ground. The eyes of the others in the training hall were on him. Despite the risk of critical injury, of broken bones and collapsed organs, he stood. He would not yield, especially with others watching.

  Cadell held his smile.

  It was an unworthy display from a Uxson, and the others in the hall shifted their eyes in shame. He was weak; he should bow before them and admit defeat.

  But he would not.

  Before the inevitable occurred, a voice rescued him.

  “Cadell,” A smooth and sultry voice pierced the ears of everyone in the room, traveling far despite the quiet tone. Dressed in an expensive dress with the finest fur covering her back, Dronnin stood proud.

  The chief wife, perfect timing.

  “Your father wishes to speak to you,” The woman announced.

  Kur and Mur deflated, backing away without a word. The others also made considerable room.

  “Understood, I will join you momentarily,” He responded. Resting his wooden training weapon, he strapped his axe to his back. With a practiced hand, he cleaned his face of blood and made an attempt to obscure his wounds. With that finished, he took to the woman’s side.

  As they walked, Cadell wished he could cover his ears. Dronnin’s heels reverberated on the black stone, sending an irritating click through the corridor. The beating heart of Black Perch Keep dimmed, the lifeblood of the warrior Uxsons left behind.

  A pungent staleness hung in the air, creating a morbid atmosphere. The few people they passed held their features firm, upholding the standards of their people.

  Cadell could not help but grimace.

  Each step sent a shockwave of anxiety to him. If he were forced to return home, he would have preferred to stay far away from this area of their fortress. More desolate than a crypt, more degrading than a mass burial of his people.

  They approached the gated throne room. A mechanism slowly lifted the black metal barring their entrance. Trepidation in his step, Cadell passed through the demonic entrance of sharp metals and stone. One could even decipher that it was akin to a face, a laughing being mocking all those who would bend to the person beyond its mien.

  Dronnin stayed behind, likely ordered to remain away from this confrontation. Hopefully, there would be no others either. Yes, he would be mocked later as well, but the first meeting of the day would give him time to steel himself against such assailment.

  Lit torches cast tales of death against the blackness. A series of steep steps led to the tall chair, and the man sitting upon it. There were no others in the grand, desolate throne room. No guards or advisors. But why would there need to be, when it was merely family affairs?

  Silence prevailed. The crackle of the torches strewn about was the only sound to pierce the veil. Lord of the Isle, Dark King Sliva, peered down coldly, his features obscured by the darkness. His signature angular face matched the architecture.

  “Father, you summoned me,” Cadell ventured. He wished to be through with this discussion as quickly as possible.

  The man made no attempt to speak, simply holding his gaze. Not even a servant or slave to bring a drink, the room was barren of all life. The ruler atop the throne was a corpse that pushed away all. At least Cadell’s siblings were not here, as they would mock him.

  He could understand why he was alone. Even Sliva’s wives would have a tendency to avoid him, as all were fearful.

  A long, deep sigh broke the silence. “Have you made any progress, Cadell?” The Dark King finally said in his deep, authoritative voice.

  “I improve every day, Father.” Sweat streaked from his brow.

  “As you should, survivor. Your growth is inadequate to the need and responsibility. If only you had been born a woman, I could have made better use of you. A child of mine must not fail to meet expectations.”

  Cadell had kept his temper since entering the Keep, even after torture and beatings. After indifference and abandonment. This would be no different, despite his father’s calculated attacks on his insecurities. “Yes, Father.”

  “Perhaps it is your worthless mother’s fault for birthing you like that, or maybe it is the filthy time you spend with that lowborn slut that has created such a weakling.”

  “Don’t speak about them like that, you shitty old man!” Cadell had been wrong. The dam of his emotions would not hold against the insults waged at those most important to him.

  The Dark King smirked. “Oh? I thought I was stating the only possible reason that one of my seed would turn out the way you have.”

  “You’re lying! My failure is a product of my issues. Mother was a model woman and Uxson. Mia has more heart than anyone, royalty or not. Don’t make baseless accusations!”

  Another sigh from his father, but this one crept out as a ghostly chill that froze Cadell. Then he witnessed the summoning of the deity. A pungent miasma suddenly erupted from his father, spreading to the corners of the room. The translucent smoke-like deity shimmered in an array of different purples and blues. Surrounded by an aura that bespoke an impenetrable wall, the man sat almost uninterested in the turn of events.

  The instant the Dark King had summoned his deity, Cadell had gone weak in the knees. None knew the true ability of his father’s deity, but it was assumed to be an internal touch strength increasing deity. Like a true Uxson would possess.

  The intensity of the Lord of the Isle was so immense that those who could see the phenomena known as deities would instantly buckle, and even those who could not see their visage would fall to the pressure.

  The leader of the Uxsons.

  The man who had once again united them. Would that only last until his reign had finished? Probably, like every Dark King before him. But still, the man before him was impossibly powerful.

  Anxiety and fear rushed into Cadell as air was forced from his lungs. He fell to one knee, unable to maintain eye contact with his father.

  The Dark King bellowed a laugh. “Watch your tongue with me, swine. You never learn, so you have made no progress, survivor. You are far too weak to challenge me. If only you were like your siblings.”

  “You didn’t call me here to make a report, you only wanted to gloat like you always do.”

  “At least you still have some fight in you. That part shows you are kin to me.” He stepped from his seat and then leisurely traversed the steps down towards Cadell. “Try to hide it all you like, you have taken quite a beating, my boy.”

  “Not like you care.”

  “Of course I do. You carry the honor of my blood. I care how you disgrace it.”

  “It is not as if any of us are strong enough to be Divine Hammers. That fact alone should make you stop pushing us.”

  “I stand above. Besides, if Torgar were still here…” Silence, then his father approached, leaning close. “Do not forget, if it were not for the Right of Royale you would not be here. Fulfill your duty.”

  Cadell bowed his head. “Yes, My Liege.”

  “Come now, boy. It is almost time for the war council. Soon, all the Drajin Kingdoms will fall before me.”