Legend Of The Young Warlock

A Dilemma

Malisa's Birthday.

"Yjah...!"

A pressured grunt escaped the larynx of the broad shouldered, lanky fellow whose drawn sword was now stretched past his left thigh, its edge pointing at the earth.

"Yeah!!!!"

The calling cheers of the crowds gave him a nudge towards his contender who took a step back, pushing his sword up his left shoulder, with every ounce of strength left in him, to hold back the heavy blow.

Both men were dressed in Redcoats, black tops with metal buttons, trousers tucked into their large hunting boots. Their Shields held thoughtfully, knives at the left side of their waists and determined aura. Graced by gratifying cum tensed atmosphere. And a helmet which spared their visions.

"Ugh! He could do better."

One of the crowds called. Twas two hours into the celebration of the princess' birthday. The spot of action was like a typical arena, only that it's circular, with rectangular wooden chairs for the spectators. The royalties, including the King and the princesses were placed on an esteemed, slightly elevated rectangular steep, to give them a conspicuous view of the events.

The broad shouldered made another bold move, throwing his sword in the air ruthlessly, though his palm still clasped to the handle of the sword. And that quirky movement, knocked the helmet of his contender off.

There stood before him a heavy bearded middle aged man. He seemed to be in the death of his fifties. At the sight of the man, all the crowd gasped and had the atmosphere wounded in petty mutters.

"Ah... You cheated, old man. What satisfaction can your cock give to the princess?"

He edged towards the man who began to shudder, taking steps back. The man stumbled on his own helmet which had fallen over his head.

"Farewell, old man."

He held the handle of the sword in his two hands, and raised it uprightly past his height to bring it down in a fierce blow, aimed directly at the oesophagus of the panting old man.

"Oi!!! Manor!"

King Wealene called suddenly, yet Manor brought down the sword. But twas an epic moment. He planted the edge of the sword into the earth near the man's neck instead.

He stood up tall and everyone cheered him up. King Wealene sighed and sat back down. The broad shouldered Manor removed his helmet as guards hurried to the old man and dragged him towards the King. The broad shouldered followed.

He was Prince Manor. Like every other prince, he was handsome but with a pointed chin, stiffened cheeks, button nose and thick round lips. He had a brownish black cap-like hair which graced his uncommon aura. There was a great deal of pride in how he takes his steps. You could say that was owed to the fact that he was the sole heir to the throne of his father. He loved Princess Malisa and would stop at nothing in winning her over. And today being her birthday, he would do anything at all cost to impress her. He's the son of the dwarf king, Alanor.

"What shall we do with you old man?"

King Wealene started, without giving regards to prince Manor. The man knelt down, his face up, looking at the king and the princess who was dressed elegantly, seated beside him.

"I shall not hold any judgement against you. For you have cheated, and that cannot go without a punishment. I would had fed you to the panthers, but it's the princess' day and you shall have a cake of her answer."

He looked at his daughter who stood up with a gracious smile plastered on her comely countenance. Directly to the man,

"It's very displeasing to ruin the pleasure of such a great day too. A great day with many beautiful men and women. And lovely kings, Queens and princes."

She looked at her back to the numerous princes behind the major guests: King Alanor the dwarf, King Jaiith of Got and the Queen of Katil, Haya. Aside those were 100 princes, excluding Manor.

Few of the princes who wanted to win the princess over had contended with Manor to no avail. Even able citizens, men of good stamina and stature who wanted the princess had fought too. Even though many of them knew that they could only go as far as kissing her feet, ( because she was esteemed as a goddess. Her father, the king, made sure to give her such presence) yet, they wanted her.

"But let's know, sire. Why did you cheat? We all know that only juveniles, youth, princes are allowed in this contest. Are you weary of your life or what?"

The man shook his head fiercely, his right palm clasped to his left arm which was soaked in blood. A gore from Manor's blade. He found his words,

"Long live the goddess, our esteemed Malisa, the most beautiful of all princesses across the world. Who wouldn't want a good thing in his house?! But do not misconceive my words. I didn't do this for me. I did it for my son. My dying son, the prince of a faraway land. He's charming and lovable. But he could never step out into the sun. He would be devoured. The sorcerer of our land wouldn't tell us what disease that is, only that it's deadly. And I've come to do his battle and bring you to him."

The Princess fisted her left hand and pressed it to her chest, feigning a wince,

"Aww... Such a painful tale."

The crowd, getting the gist of it threw a wild laugh, mocking the old man.

"But what can I do, but to feed you to the Panthers as my father had proposed. A present to my father on my day!"

Few of the crowds concurred with howls and claps, but many had disagreement etched in their faces, though none of them could speak up.

As the man was taken away, there came a strange loud voice from the entrance of the space,

"How evil of you to do that."

Everybody turned at once to the owner of the voice who was riding on a horse towards that spot. Kie Azholophased.

"Because you're elevated a bit, you think now that you're a goddess and your father a god? You evil breeders. You think you can seat on the death of my uncle, Ama, the great Soothsayer? And now you would feed an old sane man to the panthers when you should be the one fed to a panther."

King Wealene was already on his feet boiling, his eyes bulging heavily at his sockets, as the guards hurried towards Kie. Manor had made quick advances,

"Who do you think you are?"

He had argued, leaping towards Kie, but Talia had sent him flying with her fetlock.

As the guards got to him, Talia snorted, tossing her neck in the air as she pushed up her throat latch, her chin groove flowing. Kie held her tightly.

"Seize this loon right now --"

King Wealene pointed in rage as his grim face wielded the most scariest of his looks. But Malisa raised her voice suddenly,

"Guard, stop!"

King Wealene shot her a quick glare,

"What are you doing, Malisa! Would you just stand there when someone speak so honorably of your father?"

She took a deep breath as all eyes were on her. The guards were with spears poised, ready to made throws at order. The princess spoke,

"Father, this is the man I will marry!"

The whole place was filled with sudden noises of criticism and shock. Even Kie was taken aback.

"Malisa, are you mad?"

King Wealene shot, as other king began to stand up. Manor was up again, staring, disbelief stalking his beautiful eyes as he stared blankly at the princess who continued,

"Come to think of it, father. We all saw how bold he was when he walked down here! He didn't care whether or not he would be killed for such criticism. He did it anyway! Isn't that a trait of a great king? Wouldn't you be glad to have such a fearless Hunter who knows what struggle is, as your son-in-law? Wouldn't you want to--"

A slap on her face ended it. King Wealene was far away from boiling, he was -- whatever adjective you can think of.

"Is this your own way of disgracing me in the front of all dignitaries? Is this what you call a surprise?"

He shook his head in disbelief. He turned to the guards,

"Seize that crackpot and throw him in the dungeon. I'll decided his fate later."

He looked back at Malisa and held her wrist,

"Come with me."

He pulled her, twitching his nose at intervals to stimulate his rage.

He stomped off without a word to the dignitaries. His dignitaries.