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HERE IS MY OTHER CONCLUDED ANIME SERIES HERE ON NAIRALAND: GENKEI SENSHI: HE WHO TALKS TO SWORDS

https://www.nairaland.com/6767637/he-talks-swords-anime-series


I hope you enjoy this while the wait

ICHIGO CAN'T FIGHT


A young street, orphan boy without a fighting spirit dreams of becoming a great fighter like his role model in Sakai Port Village, a little downtrodden port village in Japan.

With the help of his mentors, Sosai and Master Haido, his friends, Teigen and Mizuke he goes on an epic journey to find his fighting spirit and his identity and on to achieve his dreams, scaling past Crime bosses, Street gangs and the mysterious gold tiger gang who plan on conquering Japan's criminal underworld.




I am going to become the number one fighter in Japan, with or without a fighting spirit, believe that! - Ichigo


ICHIGO CAN'T FIGHT is hugely influenced by probably one of the most famous and successful anime series ever created that is Naruto yet Ichigo sets itself quickly apart as a unique and interesting story of one's rise to power, I have had fun so far writing and editing and just enjoying the characters, I hope to introduce to you, the tumultuous and exhilarating street gangs, the games, the lives of the everyday Sakai residents.



Ichigo will premiere on 09/04/2023

IMAGE COPYRIGHT RESERVED 2023

A WINTER, A VILLAGE AND VALHIA



“when eishar was in labor and the anath would not come forth, the patrons begged me to get druid, one who had knowledge of the herbs of the lost religion to help her, they feared for her life and the boy’s life, do you know what i did to them?”



“you hung them using their clothes as ropes for nooses, you have quite a resume, i wonder how my sister survived that long,” rhamon said, his anxiety growing by the second, there was something that made vhamare half the man he was yet half of something; something he wondered if he should dread and be guarded against.



“I am not that man anymore, they know it...” he exhaled and turned around, holding his hand up for rhamon to see.



Tightly wrapped around his fist was a burning coal but it was his facial expression that made rhamon unease; a crooked smile, a tiring but crooked smile nevertheless absent of pain in the very least.



He threw the coal back into the pit of fire and exhaled dully and walked back to his chair slowly.


“thuram will find you a suitable ride mate to accompany you to tharash and a map over the wildlings territory,”
He took his seat and took no notice of his half burnt palm but merely found the nearest filled cup to drink for.



Rhamon made an attempt to protest the bodyguard option but first, vhamare was never the man to argue with and second, he had no time for such but as he looked even more at vhamare, he realized the king had slept off.

Rhamon stood and walked up slowly to the king, there was every opportunity that a assassin would beg for if his intentions was to take his life but he wasn’t; at least not just yet.

“step away from the king!” thuram’s voice came from behind, cautiously and with authority, drawing his blade out of it’s shealth.

“or what would you?” rhamon asked as he turned and walked away without pulling his weapon out. “


you should worry over other things,” rhamon added as he pulled the doors open and faded into the darkness.

Thuram replaced his weapon and took a closer look at the king and figured it was best to leave him there to sleep off the effects of the wine. The day was already as stressful as it was, even now his job seemed unending for two cooks had now been declared missing; usually this could never bother him but the king unfortunately would only eat a certain dish ‘ham-cheese cake’ made by the two idiots which no one ever found appetizing.

He shut the doors and returned to join his crew as they continued their search elsewhere in the deep of the night someone’s nightmare was getting the grip of their reality, breath by breath.

Anareg mumbled and turned uncontrollably his nightmare seemed to have taken a turn for the worst.


The nightmare unimaginable, chaos and fear, impeding doom to all men, women and children and most of all his brother and all he ever does is watch and see it all fade into the ever roaring darkness and madness.

A WINTER, A VILLAGE AND VALHIA




“you won’t find lots of pretty women in valhia, the cold has a way of taking the beauty out of my people,”

King Vhamare said dully, his eyes steadied on the burning heaps of wood in the dinning room while Langrid performed his act, of course the question wasn’t for thulip langrid but for rhamon who had just walked in, half drunk or so he appeared to be.

“maybe their king should go around more often, i find your words a great deservice to the people,”

Rhamon took his seat somwhere far off the king’s table but not out of sight nor out of hearing distance.

Vhamare’s eyes ran through him as one did when they scrutinized a stranger even now he still didn’t rhamon and he had good reasons to.

“the boy, anareth, how is he?” rhamon asked.


“he is...” vhamare gulped down hard for a moment. “albert thinks he will pull through but that old geezer...that old geezer isn’t telling me the truth, i can see it in their faces, all of them, the boy is...”

“he is crippled for life, I know,” rhamon said sympathetically, taking his eyes off the king and fixing it on the jester and maybe it was just him but he hated jesters, his own royal court had a few until he took over and sent them out.



There was no real entertainment in seeing a man say or act silly in front of a crowd but again langrid wasn’t a man as the words called it, he was no more than a pet could be.



“how is the boy's health, thuram says you drive your horse pretty well now,” vhamare returned.


“yes the old geezer might be a fool but his medicines far explains why he is the royal doctor here, i can but i can’t say so for my men, one in particular, my personal attendant, his condition hasn’t improved a bit, in this cold, he won’t make it past the gates, except of course you want me...”

“No, you stay, no king does such besides it keeps the men on high guard,” king vhamare said in a light hearted manner for once.


“thuram thinks the nut job couldn’t have done it but ofcourse there was no one else on sight, did he tell you about the ants?” vhamare asked.

“ants, what ants?” rhamon asked inconspiciously.

“you had left it seems, thuram found an ant hill close by the stables, whatever killed the animals and the birds, didn’t spare even the insects, the insects seemed to have killed themselves, hundreds of them all dead, what do you make of it? You have seen those who practice the art, what do you make of it?” vhamare asked.

Rhamon took his eyes off the fire place and laced them on thulip who despite tired still maintained his professionalism, juggling and hopping, every night seemed to be like this.



No one knew when the king ever relieved the kid or when he, himself slept; if he slept at all.



Worries over his health and mental state were beginning to come into the questions, none ever said it to his face not thuram nor albert but the palace buzzed daily over his incessant strange behaviors that pointed to a familiar figure in the village; Old mulch.

“it is rude to keep a king waiting,” vhamare said, his words held little threat not that rhamon cared anyway.



“not if he is kept waiting by another king,” rhamon responded.



“A king uh? do your people call you king since you took the crown off your father’s head while he was still alive?”
“his head could no longer hold it,” rhamon said.



Vhamare chuckled in his adject emptiness as one did at themselves, he muttered a bit to himself now and then and made decisions over inaudible decisions no one else could perceive.

“it is maguc certainly but i have never witnessed anything of such, it’s strong, very strong, i have a proposal but you will have my head for it if i share,” rhamon said once again staring at thulip who seemed as though he was invincible, easily missed for an ornamnetal design within the dinning even the king wasn’t no longer looking yet he dared not move; poor thulip.

“let us hear it, the people have struggled to live together in peace or what they call peace, their biggest threat isn’t the wildlings or wild animals, its the cold, their livestocks, i would like to keep it that way,” vhamare stood and walked past the langrid to the fire place as one did when mesmerized.

“I will ride to tharash, they have the best huntsmen, we need a huntsman to find out the source of that magic,” rhamon reply.

He couldn’t see vhamare’s facial reaction as his shoulders cast a dark shadow behind the fire place where he stood and watched the fire battle the cold endlessly, the silence seemed longer by the second as he waited for an answer.

“that is enough for the night, langrid!” he suddenly said to thulip who exhaled heavily and almost did drop on the floor out of exhaustion.

A WINTER, A VILLAGE AND VALHIA




heart broken prince.


It wasn’t hard to guess, his well being was never a thing of concern to his father, and somehow he was no better than the servants in the house, vhamare neither spoke nor cared for him like he did for anath.


‘Oh anath, please get well, please get well!” Anareg thought deeply as he walked back to his room.


He may not have heard a conversation as he returned to his room but two of the king’s cook had stumbled upon some discoveries that seemed to have left them startled.


“Who is going to tell the king?”

one asked the other, unwilling to risk his neck upon the guillotine.


“Definitely not me, I will manage with the scraps, most been the pesky vermin littering around the castle,” the other said.


“we have had rats and gods knows what in this castle for years, what eats half a bull meant for a week’s meal preparation in one night, if that’s a vermin then we have a really big problem, we should tell someone,”

the other urged out of fear once more.



“if you want your neck in a bucket or stand trial over your incompetence to lock the meat room then be my guest, I have got kids and a life I still want to hold on to, we will make amends with the wild mushrooms, they must be ripe for the harvest, don’t you think?”

the one asked.



“hah, yes that’s true, surely the mushrooms, the king won’t bother us but who has the keys to the old castle fields, surely it isn’t logareth,” the other asked.


“don’t worry, she wouldn’t know the keys are missing, I will handle that, just meet me at the cellar tonight, we will go harvest them, all of them, it should save our necks!” and with that they made their way out of sight locking the meat room.



Rhamon raced through the snow covered village even more, he seemed lost for a moment before he found a lowly peasant to ask for directions.
“Sire,”

He greeted.



“I seek direction to the best black smith in the village, my sword needs a new sheath,” rhamon asked.


“sire, there aren’t many black smiths in the village, the cold is no good for hot metal but Omaeus, he still forge and if you go to him now, you will find him, go further east, his workshop is a little bit off the main roads but you will find him there,”

the peasant replied.


“Thank you,”


“Sire, forgive me if speak out of place, I do not think crazy old mulch did it, he is crazy but…”


“it is not my hands or yours to play judge or jury, it’s in the hands of the king,”


“Forgive me sire but the king always plays judge, our queen, your sister..."


“Know your place peasant or I will help you lose your tongue!” rhamon said, he had had enough and saddled away.


Omaeus the black smith was still in his workshop, there was really nothing to do but idle away and to stay away from home, from the kids and from his wife.


Here the cold bite harder but he had wine and he had his peace until he had the horse approach.


“Who is it, come some other time, I can’t get the forge to heat up,” he called out, half drunk but just enough not to see the looming danger, he let out a loud yell as rhamon came almost out of nowhere, thrusting his sword right into his hand which he did manage to hold up to protect his face out of mere instinct.


Rhamon dragged him back into the forge as he screamed in pain, far out of reach and far away from help.


“my hand!” omaeus yelped miserably, his eyes catching two or more fingers that had been chopped up by the sword.
He tried to stand but got a devastating kick to the stomach that sent him right down and then rhamon paced around, if this was a black smith’s shop then there was some set of instruments he could trust to be there.


Twelve inches nail, rusty but perfect, he smirked and returned to his captive ready to carry out his well articulated plan.

A WINTER, A VILLAGE AND VALHIA





“well old abert thinks he is in some kind of shock or something, he will live,”

rhamon reassured the general.

The scene hadn’t been touched even as the number of people hadn’t reduced one bit; filled with dead animals whose head had somewhat exploded, such a horror scene even the bravest of the village kids refused to take a look at.


Rhamon spat hard as he drew near to the scene, it was such terrible sight, four horses and two mules had been killed; the total number of animals in the barn.


“so what do you think?” Thuram asked.
“I am a tracker not a sorcerer, I need more time!” rhamon said as arrogantly as he could, it was important he found out how old mulch had been able to kill these animals, put anareg in a coma and gravely injure the other prince.


All means to get the old bastard out shock to speak proved abortive; haven been beaten to stupor by the guards but not even a single squeal did he produce,

it was obvious he would end up in a bucket but now rumors did pick at the event that old mulch was a wizard, of course this made perfect sense but if such talks were to hold ground, they needed to investigate it and rhamon had seized the opportunity to come on the little adventure once the royal tracker was deemed ice sick, he was in fact an animal tracker for his father and did track his own animals during his hunts, trackers had a great understanding of how animals worked, their life cycles, their births and the causes of their deaths.


“It’s not just the horses and the mules, come and see this!” rhamon said finally, raising a dead creature up in the air.


In his hand was a dead rat who seemed to have died same way the other animals did, in fact even the insects and a bird, quite unfortunate to have made a nest somewhere in the stable had lost their heads.



“does this confirm that old bastard is a wizard?” thuram asked.


“what did the guards say about old mulch?” rhamon asked digging his hand into the chest a dead horse to check the heart; a sight that got thuram unsettled.


But he was a surgeon with the blade, cutting finely and with great precision, he reached out to the heart and pulled it out.


“they said he seemed horrified and scarred of something, he was found that way, he didn’t struggle or anything, hasn’t said anything since then, maybe it’s his powers, maybe…”


Thuram hesitated when he saw rhamon cut open a blood vessel and saw the king taste the blood.


“go on,” rhamon replied before spitting the blood out, again going on to another horse and another.


“maybe you should stick to what you know best,” Rhamon returned to his horse and began to saddle deep into the village.


“the king would want to hear your report!” thuram shouted.


“the king should ask me for my report!” rhamon said, saddling his horse even faster into the village until he was seen no more.


Thuram took one last look at the scene and decided he would have a better chance at an answer, torturing Old mulch.


Hours passed before Anareg recovered his consciousness, Old albert was indeed a man of great experience yet it was the younger prince’s health that bothered him, he refused to say anything but there was something that was certain; the young prince would never be able to use his legs ago, fearing the king’s unstable mind and the decisions he could make due to it, he had saw it best to let the ice melt over the case before he presented such news.


“What happened, father has refused me to see him?” Anareg asked boyle who stood charge over the locked throne room

“He is not happy at the moment, Lanrgid thulip the jester is the only person he has asked for, am sorry prince anareg, no one is to disturb him except with news of prince anath”

Boyle said offering words of sympathy to the

A WINTER, A VILLAGE AND VALHIA



“Crazy old bastard!”

another replied, bringing the attention once again to the king and his counsels yet he had picked one person’s interest.



Anareg watched with keen interest as Old mulch took his leave but not before their eyes had met.


It wasn’t customary that anareg sat by his father’s side all through the meeting, everyone treated him like he was never there, an prince only by title not by value or significance as he had come to learn over the years.


He snuck out of sight without trying hard and slowly made his way into the spine busting cold, blurred by heavy snow, he pushed forward hoping to catch sight of Old Mulch tracing his foot paths that seemed difficult to trace by the second.


He felt a cold hand grab him from behind pulling him, in fright he screamed but nothing came out, Old mulch dragged him with much power anareg could never have conceived he had,right into a nearby stable, he dragged him into.


That crazy old man was indeed crazy, he laughed and giggled as he drew near to the prince who suddenly realized he was in grave danger of been attacked.


“they won’t know, they won’t know, you will tell them but they won’t know, can you tell them?”

he spoke, his voice croaked and panicky, as he came closer.


The stable had no extra exit, a poor construction that let the cold swarm in on the horses that seemed distracted by what was happening.


“you all will die, the king will die, the prince, they will die, the people will die, it will kill them all, they will take them, one after the other day and no one will be able to stop them, I can’t save any one, not anymore, am sorry but I have to do this, can’t you see?”

Old mulch giggled and then stopped, taking a blunt object from the ground, his eyes blood shot and murderous as he drew closer to anareg.


Fear was one thing the young prince was not accustomed to so when that moment came and he felt something more frightening than the cold growing within his lungs, threatening to speak out, threatening to erupt, was this fear, Could it be?


he let it out in one big silent scream.

“Neigh!” the horses screamed in their madness.


The horses went crazy with rage, something which startled old mulch, the violent rampage by the stable animals threatened to bring the entire structure down.


“Anareg?” Anath screamed from behind, he had went out sometime ago to look for his brother.


Old mulch turned around in panic but it was he who first saw it happened, a horse in its madness had broken free and ran straight at anath in sheer fury.


“No, get out of the way!” Old mulch whispered in the chaos as anath was ran over by the stallion .



***********


“you understand that if it wasn’t…”

“yeah, yeah I understand quite well that you need my help in this matter,”

rhamon said, a smirk on his face as he
came down his horse to meet with thuram and one other guard at the sight of the accident hours later.


“how is the prince?” thuram asked.

“Old abert is doing his best but he has refused to say anything else, the young prince suffered grave injuries,” Rhamon said with a doleful expression.


“and the other one?”

A WINTER, A VILLAGE AND VALHIA




Omaeus, a blacksmith and a native of valhia stood with mouth ajar that blistering cold morning, drawing his fetcher out of the water and realizing it had brought up nothing startled him for a moment but that had not been the cause of his shock, a closer look at the well did.



“It’s frozen!” He said to himself as he recovered slowly from the scenario, a hundred and twenty years it took for such an experience to occur in Valhia and he would know because his father’s father had passed down the story of the coldest winter in the history of valhia, a winter so cold it had brought valhia and its people to the brink of total annihilation.



“people could no longer be heated by their coals and firewood, animals froze, even river vale was covered in thick ice, food ran dry and the people starved and died of the blistering cold every day, it was such a terrible time,” His father told him.


The experience was one of many Valhia, of the few villages that resided within the lower northern regions known for its cold.


History had it that It was king Vhamare I, a warrior who had flee the southern lands during the red plague from the southern lands, it was he who had ventured far deep into the icy regions of the wildings, yes, present valhia was nothing but a land inhabited by the wildlings; those scavengers, cannibals, the so called half-men of the ice, vhamare had seen a land ripe for the taking and with the help of other warriors willing to settle in the northern region, they took the lands and called it Valhia, meaning “TAKEN FROM THE COLD”.



Omaeus worries were only the beginning, a few livestock keepers had gotten a taste of the cold that morning, so when the town’s hall became filled with worried faces, it was so in hopes of a means to surviving the winter without starving, you see the harvest before now hadn’t been good at all.


Valhia had suffered a mild drought that had affected its harvest with such facts, winter seemed to spell doom for them.
“Sire, the people are worried, there was barely enough food to survive through the last winter,” one said when asked to speak before the king, his sons and king rhamon, his guest.



“our shelters by the day are getting weaker in keeping the cold out, we will not be able to prevent an ice sickness if one is affected at this rate,” another spoke.


“it’s not the cold we should worry about!” Crazy Old Mulch, a slightly demented widower whose family had been butchered by the wildlings years ago, the experience had left him mentally broken and invalid, he was known to have psychotic tendencies and even destructive some times for no reason and hence no one gave him any attention, better to ignore the crazy old man, was the watch word for everyone.
He rarely ever spoke to anyone except himself and every inanimate object he could find not that he could get their attention if he, his words sent a cold chill down the spine of many.


“Get out of here, mulch!” someone replied angrily.

CHAPTER ONE: A DEATH, A VISIT AND WINTER


...men,” rhamon replied coldly, cutting the finely prepared pork meat on his plate.


This could certainly be true, thuram’s scouts had confirmed something similarly, retracing rhamon’s paths to where the snow did clear it off, he could certainly be telling the truth but how uneasy he felt at rhamon’s mention of his sister.


“I see, you say you were heading to tharash, may I ask why, why at this time when the snow is peaking, what was so urgent?”

Rhamon stopped for a moment, his facial appearance did seem to have changed for a moment into a dull smile and then a frown slowly.


“A king needs a queen, don’t you agree, you must have heard of all the beautiful women of tharash, I said, why not go have a look,” rhamon replied, filling his mouth with meat and wine subsequently.


Again this did sound truthful but tharash had other names that did make vhamre suspicious, tharash unlike Vahlia allowed magicians, druids and witches to roam around, free to practice their crafts.


“the wildlings you say, how long do you intend to stay?” vhamare asked.
Rhamon stopped and took a long look at his gapping chest wound that had been sufficiently covered with herbs and spreads.


“once I can man a horse again, I and my men will take our leave, that I promise you,” rhamon said, he stopped and took a look at the royal guards and smirked dully. “your guards, they think I am here to harm you, they follow my every move, I think that’s not necessary” rhamon said before he continued to eat in silence, leaving vhamare to wonder all the while.


“you know I didn’t have any choice,” King vhamare said, out of thought rather than intention, rhamon stopped eating for a moment, nodded and continued eating, his expression was as blank as a clean canvas.


He belched horribly and cleaned his hands to leave whilst vhamare watched him with rapt attention.


“thank you for the entertainment and the food, lord vhamare, I will go check up on my men and then get some sleep,” Rhamon said.


Vhamare watched hopelessly, sulking inside, longing for someone to tell him he did the right thing, longing to be told he had no choice but to sign off her execution, oh, how he had loved her, how he longed for the smell of her hair, the perfume of her body.


He whimpered and shivered in his chair, clutching tightly to whatever he could hold on too whilst his mind tortured him more.
“Sire,” the croaked voice of Old Albert, The Royal Doctor greeted awkwardly having caught the king in a rather unusual manner.


“what is it?” Vhamare’s tone begged not to be bothered.

“Sire, if it offends you, I would very much keep the matter for tomorrow but I felt you should…”


“what is it?” Vhamare cleared his throat and sat up to listen, Old albert was as Old as his grandfather, the weary old man had served three kings before him, though he was nothing more than one of the servants, Albert was a respected and wise doctor, one who never made his presence felt except it was demanded.


“Sire, its King Rhamon’s personal attendant, I believe his name is Carlo Alvis,” Albert paused and seemed to stare at something that was invincible yet his eyes showed his hesitation to speak further.

“what is it, Is he dead?”

“No Sire, I am here to report my findings upon a close inspections by the masters, Sire may I ask what king rhamon said about the injuries of his men?”


The questions seemed misplaced but vhamare was desperate to get rid of the old doctor, he answered quickly.

“They encountered the wildlings he said, You must know at this time...,”


“Yes, that’s what been said but did he say anything about been attacked by a bear or wolf or a tiger?” Albert gave away his confusion, never had the old man been so uncertain about his questions or findings, clearly something seemed to have spooked him.


“what is it, no, he said nothing, he must have been tired or slipped his mind, look, whatever it is…”


“Sire, you don’t seem to understand why I am asking, the boy in question has an unidentified gaping bite mark that has refused to respond to our medicines, the bite mark…”


“enough of this, it’s been a long night already, you should get some rest, first thing tomorrow, I will see to it that you have answers, is that okay?” Vhamare said impatiently.


Old albert hesitated for a moment but there was no he could get vhamare to listen, it was better to turn in for the night, perhaps there was nothing strange about the bite marks, perhaps there was nothing to worry about, his many years of experience was both a curse and a blessing and nights like this, his bed would miss his presence.


“I will go check up on the visitors, Sire, I bid you goodnight!” The Old man took his leave.


Once Outside, he made a left turn and slowly found his way to the library, if he was to find out about the mysterious bite mark and how to deal with it, he needed to know what creature was responsible and so far in all his years of experience, he had never seen anything quite like what he had seen.

CHAPTER ONE: A DEATH, A VISIT AND WINTER



...with him all those years.

but that morning when the horns of persus blew miles away from the villages, the emergency bells had been rung across the village, unsettling the people of valhia yet it was in fact the right thing to do.

A conscious knock on the door by thuram, a war general brought him out of his miserable thoughts.

“Sire, we have news!”

“what is it?” King Vhamare asked, stopping to listen for a moment.

“the scouts are back, it would appear Rhamon is only with a few men,”

“A few men, are they assassins, mercenaries, sorceries, druids?”

The king asked, his confusion so sharp it could cut through thick ice.


“Soldiers, Sire, but that’s not all, Rhamon and his men are badly injured, something must have happened on their way here, what shall we do, Sire?” thuram’s voice carried over the massive doors well enough for the king to listen to.


“I don’t know, don’t open the gates for anyone, this must be some sort of trick, don’t you think?” Vhamare replied in a tone that expelled all the thoughts of bravery.


“Sire, If I may speak, I am quite certain we can handle Rhamon and his few injured men, besides if we fail to help them, we would only be scarring off possible allies and the thoughts of valhia been weak would spread across the land, we can not leave them to die, out in the cold,” thuram replied.


Of course this was a proper response, there was no way Rhamon could be of any harm to him or anyone, injured and outnumbered and without reach to his army wherever they might be once they crossed the gates of valhia.


“fine, attend to them with great caution, I will await his presence in the throne room, they are to be disarmed and watched closely all through their time with us, they are not to resist by the order of the king,”

Vhamare said, almost with a sigh of relief.


He was quite certain, there was a chance he would never see the throne room if this was a war he had to fight, Rhamon would have left the war with his head; a head for a head, such was the king of persus’s rule.


Somewhere within the castle grounds, the safe grounds as it was called was slowly pushed open, allowing the princes, royal servants, scholars and other important personnel who had been locked away for their safety, to breathe in fresh air.


Anath ran straight past everyone, his anger seemed not to have been quelled one bit, for having been tossed inside, when he was becoming a much better swordsman by the day, the order of the king had not sat gone down well with him and now he had his chance to vent out his anger.

“what happened?”

“your uncle, he is within the castle
grounds but he is injured badly, ”


Boyle, one of the princes royal guards who had whisked anareg away, replied, easily understanding anareg’s hand gestures.


Rhamon, his uncle was someone of such rarity to mention, his mother had talked about how much he looked like him, of course rhamon hardly ever visited nor did he stay longer than a day, usually passing through just to see their mother, there was always an atmosphere that surrounded his uncle he never really liked or was accustomed to, perhaps it was same for his father who never hid his dislike for their mother’s brother, anath took after rhamon, mother would say each time anath threw a tantrum or got mad at one of the servants, or did something crazy.


He wondered how well his father would welcome rhamon, once he was well enough to stand before him.


********


Thulip, a not so clever, clumsy hunch back who had been left at the king’s castle gate many years ago had just one job that had fed him all his years in the castle, he played the royal jester and was he good at it!
He juggled, sang, danced, drank and made everyone laugh but most of it, sadly were never at his performance but he, himself yet he didn’t care, for him, his survival meant he had no say to such, as long as the king was happy, he was fed and taken care of by the servants.


That night, he was to deliver a special performance for the king and his special guests, the late queen’s brother, the king of persus and his envoy.



“you must look your best, king rhamon is known to execute people who offends his eyes right there on the spot,” Logareth, one of the royal cooks did admonish him while she dressed him up.


Logareth, a kind heart she was, thulip had taken a liking to her, his oddly shaped and deformed body never made her saw him for what he really was, for what he wished others saw him to be, she had taken care of him long before he had found a purpose for his existence within the castle.


Logareth hadn’t known it yet but she had unintentionally thought him how to juggle and perform some of the acrobats he performed, so whenever she told him anything, he did just as she said and though she was much younger than him, he did see her as the mother he never had, the sister he wished he had and the lover he knew he would never have.


He performed his act with much perfection that left king vhamare speechless, prince anareg had clapped excitedly as did anath but rhamon looked bored and disturbed by his act, it didn’t matter for the king loved hi act and as he took his bow as best as he could, king vhamare clapped in his usual manner, light hearted on the surface but really, a shell filled with nothing but self inflicted nightmares and restlessness.

“We won’t stay for long,”

Rhamon said breaking the looming silence that had prevailed over the dinner room once anareg and anath took their leave.


“why are you even here in the first place, is it revenge, you must know It was never…”


“My sister was found guilty of adultery, I must assure you, her death isn’t why I found feet inside your walls, we were attacked by the northern wildlings on our way to Tharash, I barely escaped with what was left of my

CHAPTER ONE : A DEATH, A VISIT AND WINTER




“it’s okay, soon we can return back, demand a queen’s burial for mother,” Anareg tried to show off some sort of bravery, taking a peek up the branches of the Alva tree where Anath sat, eyes steady on the outlines of the royal castles behind the huge walls, miles away wondering when the bells would chime.


“what difference does It make, mother will be found guilty and will be hanged, father would probably have her head on a spike in the courtyard for all to see and jeer at, it doesn’t matter?”

Anath signaled in the unspoken language of the mute which he had come to learn if he was to communicate with his younger brother who was deemed a mute at birth.


The language of the unspoken made up a lot of the ancient ritual mediums of the druids who believed in a form of communication much stronger and effective than spoken words of mere men, their mother had taught it to anareg and he, anath had learnt it.



“Do you think father would…”

“What do you think will happen, they are going to execute mother…”

The village bells chimed slowly but steady, its jingle loud and horrible for the two young princes who knew what it symbolized; the death of their mother, Queen of Valhia.


“Off with her head!”

Their father would have said before the queen must have been forcefully dragged to the square, naked and bare, she must have begged for her life as the executioner approached gleefully, the executioner’s blade in one hand and a bucket for her head, what a scene it would have been for it was no such ordinary event for the executed to be of royal blood.


A few must have been entertained, others shocked, horrified, confused but in the end, everyone would talk about it in the silence of the night whilst their mother’s head laid hung on a spike for the birds to mock and feast on.


It didn’t even matter now, king’s order to take the young princes out of the village while the trail and execution lasted was all but a waste, the bells still shook them to their cores, the pain didn’t fade away, the pain they had had to deal with right from that dinner night where the queen was dragged away by the guards right before their eyes, it really didn’t matter now.


Anath scrambled up and higher the tree, the aval tree had been their mother’s favorite resting place, close to the swamp of lilies, for as long as they could remember the queen had brought them here and the aval tree, a tree of such mysterious nature had played homage and played a haven for the boys, its massive nature and size meant it could never be fully explored and right at that moment anath had climbed, higher and higher in his grief as if he intended to escape the world, as if reality would lose grip of him at the top.



But anareg did follow him up as quickly as he could although anath was the more natural climber but he was never a push over.


“What is it” Anareg did say, stopping suddenly seeing anath perched on one branch, eyes settling on the trunk where the light reflected on something metallic.


“ISHARAH and VHARAH TOGETHER IN LYAR” beneath the finely carved words on the trunk was a silver knife with a beautifully wooden handle left inside the truck, the young princes had not known it yet but this was no ordinary blade.


“swear to me brother, swear to me by father’s blood that we would never be the reason by which we see our death,” Anath had said creating a bloody opening of his index finger with the knife.



Anareg hadn’t thought hard about it, there was nothing in such matters to be taken strongly, for a twelve year and a fourteen year old, teenagers on an adventure of accepting what reality and life offered them, this was nothing to worry or think thoroughly of.


Anareg took the knife and bled himself as well, hence when the brothers made this so called innocent oath by blood, this oath was sealed in the realms unknown to them.


“My princes we must return back to Valhia, The kings orders were to return you two after the uhm…”

Quite the awkward moment for the lone royal guard, thrum who decided to stop, hoping the princes understood what he did mean.


“We must go back, the bells have stopped, father must be expecting us back,” Anareg signaled anath who took the knife and followed his brother down the branches.


And so the young princes saddled their horses and made the journey back certain their lives would be forever changed.


And yes it did change for as the weeks came and passed by, King Vhamare slowly lost touch of reality, his guilt sipped his consciousness and conscience by the ticking of time, leaving nothing but a shell of a man who once was; the king of Valhia.


Even as he starred at himself in a mirror in the war room, prepared for the sudden and unannounced arrival of King Rhamon; Queen Eishar’s brother, all he could see was a shadow of a man he once was.


He made efforts to put up his armor, fitting his straps, buckles with much difficulty they could have possibly give.
If he had his way, he would rather sit in the throne room, drunken with wine while the Lanrgid the royal court’s jester kept him amused.


Rhamon’s sudden arrival would be ignored, it didn’t matter if the king of Persus had over ten thousand men to spare for a war with Valhia, the inpenetrable walls of the village would never be broken, its strength had driven worthy foes to the brink of madness and frustration and ultimately defeat.


But he did expect the Rhamon’s response much sooner, in fact the days leading to queen’s execution had been unpredictable yet the queen’s brother had not intervened like he always did in every matter, much too eager to support his sister, much too eager to draw blood for her, much to eager to start a war, one which had been prevented by his sister’s union

BOOK ONE TITLE: THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF



SYNOPSIS:

After King Vhamare Executes His Wife, He gets an Unexpected Visit from Her Brother, King Rhamon.

As Tension flares and The Winter bites
into Valhia.
The Cold Dreary Night is Just Perfect For Something Devilish and Wicked.

THE WITCH KING: LEGEND OF THE FLUTE BOOK ONE: THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF © Copyright 2023 WRITERX


All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure that the information in this book was correct at press time, the author and publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage, or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident, or any other cause.

SYNOPSIS


NARRATOR: Listen, listen to the tales of old, listen to the story before the stories.

The myth behind the tales, before the piper and before the flute.

Listen to the tale of the king, the tale of Anareg Vhamare III, no not Anareg, not anymore, LISTEN TO THE TALE OF THE WITCH KING.


THE STORY IS A 5 PART HORROR, FOLK TALE PIECE WITH EACH BOOK ADAPTING A PIECE OF THE POPULAR FOLK TALES LIKE BEOWULF, PINOCCHIO, SLEEPING BEAUTY, THE BOY WHO CRIED WOLF AND MORE.


WHILST IT STAYS TRUE TO AN AUTHENTIC ORIGIN STORY OF THE PIED PIPER.


IT ENCOMPASSES THE BEAUTIFUL IDEAS BEHIND GREAT FOLK TALES FILLED WITH MAGIC, DARK CREATURES AND INTRIGUE WITH A HORROR SPIN THAT WILL SPAN OVER FIVE BOOKS.



BOOK ONE TITLE REVEAL WILL BE COMING SOON





RELEASE DATE: 01/01/2023

Chapter One - Part B



CHAPTER ONE - PART 2


"Who the fvck are you, greenie?" The sergeant asked taking off his helmet, realizing his back up was a freshman and not a seasoned retributor.

"My name...my name is Mace 11-230, I only responded to the emergency..."

"Kid, that was a security level 2 threat emergency call, don't you fvcking spumks read the handbook anymore?" Midas asked irritatingly, drawing closer to the greenie who was still covered in typhoon's blood and biomaterials.

"Am sorry...I didn't...."

"Oh forget it, I would have been a mess sitting here all by myself, those guys really went wild with that weaver, didn't they?"

Midas scoffed as he began to ran his armor diagnostics.

He seemed taken aback by the level of damage he managed to take under fire a while ago.

"Kid lemme have your back up power core, My armor is depleted!" Midas said taking off his dried out power core from his armor whilst the greenie checked for his spare.

"Oh ehm, I don't have any spare, you see I was on a routine surveillance..."

"The Emergency Scene Response and Clean up Team will be around (checked his time) in 15 minutes, you will be fine, lemme have your power core, kid" midas asked unblinkingly.

"Yeah well but the handbook says that..."

"Fvck the handbook, who reads the handbook? Kid I got somewhere else to be, do you want to disobey a commanding officer or follow orders and take credit for this mess, am sure they will reward you with a few tags high up on the scale," midas scoffed as his junior reluctantly gave him his power core after de-armoring but it was that moment Midas had powered up his armor that a whoosh sound followed by a rocket propelled concussive grenade RPCG had been fired, sweeping the freshman off the ground in a blink.


a chance event had given midas a small opening to swerve and hit the ground safely before raising his armor's shield, the greenie unfortunately with no armor didn't stand a chance, blown to infinity, armor and flesh scattered up in the air.


"Gru, easy with the RPCG, we need the other one alive, he needs to be alive if we want his Binets!"

Shark, the leader of a much sophisticated cyber gang and his men appeared almost out of nowhere as midas came under fire from all direction.

"You all are gonna regret killing greenie, I will kill you all!" Midas said angrily, behind his fast depleting shield.

"Security threat level reanalyzing.... Level 3....Binets activating!" Midas grinned scornfully.
He could feel his wickedness surging through his veins, the power flowing through his muscles, his armor been absorbed by his bodyware, in an instant Midas Binet came online.

"Now you spumks are screwed!" Midas lowered his shield,
Letting His binethically armored bodyware ricocheting the SCRs with no damage taken.

"That's not all I can do, babies!" He grinned, morphing his hands into much meaner and powerful mechanized arms.


He created a powerful shock wave just slamming both arms together, the impact shock wave. blew the gang apart



Shark swerved out of the way and landed clumsily on one of who he thought was his.

"Get up and stop him!" He ordered angrily turning to face the masculine behemoth that seemed 7 feet tall , the character looked like a much vicious Wesley snipe's blade character, bulky, sturdier, definitely powerful and eyes that glowed red, an indication of a neural bodyware modification.

"What the hell..."

John executed one of the most brutal take downs that crippled the cyber terrorist in flash seconds.

He delivered a splitting kneel kick into shark's jaw ripping his modified shark jaw off his head, before pushing his feet into shark's chest, kicking out pieces of his spine through the back.

Shark went offline immediately.

"What the hell?" One of the cyber terrorist asked in confusion, tightening his grip around his weapon.

John released his binethically neural linked Kasaber sword.

Gun fire filled the atmosphere and with John, cyber terrorists tried to match the odds.

Now a note on John's sole weaponry.

The kasaber weaponry is the last of a class of weapons first designed to combat heavily armored cyber terrorists in The Asia country of Ashenia.

The sword like weapon was built for all kinds of combat protocols.

Its ever constant morphing matter state allows it to change size and shape, soon outdated due to the expensive and production limits.


With neural enhanced binethic capability, john had showed great skill and versatility as a modern cyber retributor.

He levitated the sword using his neural link, spinning it so fast, it was too easy for the rotating blades to deflate the bullets as they came.

Making a copy and sending that copy across the field, decapitating the hands of two cyber terrorists and plunging the duplicate into another's skull.


"About time you dumb ass!" Midas said as john joined the fight, sending spikes of blades across the battle field.

In less than 3 minutes, john and midas were done just as ESRCT drones and personalities arrived on scene.

"Are you guys okay?" Saxo, S.O.W's ESRCT Director came through to the duo through their comms.

"We got a casualty, a freshman," midas said.

Taking an eye off the drones and letting them run through john's frame; sludged down besides the dead freshman, investigating.

"His power core is missing!" John said turning to Midas as Saxo listened on the conversation.

"He dried it out before those spumks came in, poor kid, didn't see the missile coming !" Midas lied under a hard stare by john.

"Isn't that like the third greenie we have had going under within the month, Cox is going to flip her lid when she hears this, alright the ESRCTs can carry on from there, you lads return to base," saxo cut the line.

"John, we should talk!" Pluckett came on line via john's private comm channel.

"Pluck, what do you want?" John asked still investigating the scene of the crime.

"I found a lead who can get us to the buyer, he is a bit of a tricky spumk, I need a backup" pluckett revealed.

"Get one of the daughters, pluckett I got a situation of mine,"

"I will send you a file on a nut-job, cool guy with very oddly powerful bodyware you might be interested in," pluckett said terminating the call.

The sent data display came up quickly attracting midas to the scene.

The display centered on a gang war between the cyber rivas and the hardwires, the object of focus was faux, leader of Rivas, a nut job and bodyware-addict, his latest bodyware was a full binethically enhanced left arm.

"Did he just shoot purple colored lasers out of his hand?" Midas asked.

"Yes, he did!" John said.

Nothing surprising about this except that colored laser was unique to a retributor by the name McCain Ellis who was found killed and decapitated, his bineths were said to be missing.
It came as a surprise earlier that month and had taken sky city aback.

Bineths were personalized down to the user's DNA making them unaccessible and unusable by anyone else.

"Shark and his gang, they were saying something about keeping me alive for my bineths , they wanted me alive, is it possible that..."

"I have to go, I will catch up with you later ...." John turned to leave and then stopped.

"Mid, its a shame the greenie died, wasn't it?" John asked, he didn't wait for a reply but rather left the scene soon afterwards, leaving midas wondering if he knew what he had done.

I am still heart broken about yesterday match lol okay guys let me drop the update, sorry for been late.

CHAPTER ONE - PART ONE

Narrator :Over the past few years, technology has skyrocketed in new and incredible ways, advancement that has made us over colonized the moon and planet mars, advancements that are leading us to the first off-world artificial space inhabiting area (O.A.S.I.S), with many of these achievements never thought would be possible especially after the world ending cyber virus attack that crippled the digital world forty years ago.

Even now after so many years, cyber terrorists and gangs have constantly posed as a never ending threat to a truly great and advancing new world under the world government of Binethical Global Industries, each day a new form of cyber terrorism rises, blackware trafficking, bodyswapping, cyberprints theft, cyberware hacking, cyberID thefts, cyber-lary, bio-hacking, you name it.

And cyber gangs like the typhoon gangs would never seize to learn that there are those whose purpose and sole duty is to stop them whatever the cost.


SCENE: M.D.S. - MANUALS DECOMMISSIONING SITE 24 – SKY CITY – SECTOR 1


The peace of the inoperable manual decommissioning site 24 located somewhere in sky city, sector 1 is suddenly disturbed by a pulse blast that wrecks the heavy doors, blasting them open with such violence that caused the earth around the facility to tremble, of course that could only mean the typhoon gangs came prepared with a pulse-weaver blaster specifically designed for powerful blast, specifically designed for the task.

“what did I tell you guys, this is going to be an easy score!” Typhoon laughed maniacally as he and his gang members gained access into the facility.

“Boss, we got a small problem, I just completed a scan, there are 3,148 decommissioned M1s here, with no ID we can’t find what we are looking for, not if we want to make it out fast and alive. ”

His second in command quickly pointed out something from his peripheral display
This was a real concern but typhoon had been on the sidelines for a long time, with a haul promised upon completion of this little assignment, it was pretty obvious he was going to damn the consequences.

“I don’t care what you have to do, the M1 we are looking for must be in pretty bad shape and must have … (thinks restlessly for a moment or so) must have had a huge gaping hole in its chest, at least we know that, don’t we?

Search the facility Database while we go Find that M1,tip us off when you got something, we have to find that scrap metal, ASAP, this is a low level security threat site, we shouldn’t be expecting any trouble but be on the alert, we don’t want no retros on our ass!”

Typhoon and the other gang member totaling eight took up their arms and gadgets and began to go searching in teams of twos to the various storage lockers whilst his second in command decided to hack the facility’s database for records as ordered.

“Now where exactly are you, you scrap metal, there has to be a record of you somewhere in this dump!....yes, yes, I found it, gotcha!”

the techie continued to interact with the site’s A.I data control unit and for a moment which made him missed the sounds made by two objects that appeared almost out of nowhere.

A pair of small impact concussive grenades (S.I.C.Gs) roll into the scene and up to the gang member1’s feet, who turned to see the last seconds of the grenade’s five seconds countdown.


“sh*t!” the resulting explosion sent a loud and terrifying bang across the facility that got typhoon and the others running out, just enough time to see pieces of their comrade splattered across debris of smoke, dust and flames.

A piece of the SICGs identified quickly got typhoon and the others on high alert, for SICGs were easily identified as retributors standard weapon issued explosive devices for combat.

“switch to night visors, Keep your eyes open, we got company, shoot anything that moves, I have got something else I need to do…you, take the pulse weaver, handle my baby rough and I will f*ck you up spumk, kill the retro!”

typhoon ordered handing over the pulse weaver to one of the eight before leaving his scarred men to figure out who was preying on them.


“come out, you spumk retro, we are not afraid of you, come out and play, spumk!” the one with the pulse weaver suddenly felt bold kicking the beast of a machine gun type-blaster into life.


It didn’t take them any second more before the hunter pulled out of the shadows, towering just above 6’2 feet tall, fully armored to the teeth, S.O.W premium combat polymethium combat gear equipped dawning a sergeant purple barge on the breast plate.


His reaction time took them so unaware they were also frozen in time as he fired multiple target locked SCRs, tearing three targets within seconds into bits and pieces.


The gun battle kicks up when the pulse weaver is fired, a weapon capable of dishing over 2000 SCRs within seconds is not to be trifled with not even a bi-nethical polymethium armor can stand up to the heat, dead on.


“I don’t know who you are but you are going to be sorry you did that, A heavy smell of polymethium powder and heavy shells of SCRs filled the scene quickly, once typhoon’s pulse weaver heated up and went offline for a quick recharge having expanded over 1500 rounds, out of curiosity the others also stop for a quick recharge and to investigate the scene certain they had vanquished their supposed attacker.
But the smoke filled scene only made things worse for the cyber criminals whilst the retributor was all but disadvantaged by the scene.


“I can’t see anything!” one of the gang members complained as he drew near and out of his safe zone; a choice he paid dearly for, quickly.


The retributor fired even more multiple rounds that took out the curious cyber terrorist out of commission, slumping to the ground, headless

“shit! I will kill you for that!”


Tar! Tar!! Tar!!!


The Pulse weaver in its magnificent rolled out even more SCRs this time, fully charged, tearing up the shelter of the retributor, reducing the thick blockade into pieces of dented and scrapped metal.


“hey retributor, you must be lost or something, imagine coming to fight the typhoon gang and you decided to come take us all on your own, I feel insulted really, you guys might be bineth’s lab rats but that doesn’t mean you can take us all on your own!”

typhoon came out of the storage container, this time, in the cockpit of an TWARR-M3.

“Target found!” the A.I voice over of the TWARR was quick to spot the retributor in his hideout.

“found you, now let’s see what this baby can do!”

typhoon pressed hard on the weapon’s joystick, releasing dozens of SCRs with so much pleasure, he was always one who loved the violence of cyber warfare and if there was anything like a cyber warfare, it was better having the most powerful and destructive weapon-wares and there was a time the likes of the Tactical Weaponized Assault Response Robot Vehicles were the biggest and the sickest, these seemingly indestructible metal beasts towering 20feet tall could pummel an entire legion of nobodies and a small colony to dust within minutes with its weapons haul and even though he was riding a no-good and out of commissioned TWARR, its available weapons could still do a clean job.


The shells came running down as the retributor kicked into a defensive position, generating a seismic proton shield that deflated the bullets as fast as they came, causing a quick depletion of the armor’s power.

Out of nowhere, another retributor joined the scene, landing on top the TWARR and smashing the heavy shelled structure with simultaneously blows that immediately destructed the TWARR letting the other retributor take off the other cyber criminals as quickly as possible.

Typhoon is able to escape out of the cockpit as the TWARR crashes to the ground under heavy blows, he is quickly reunited with his pulse weaver and continues fighting.

“I am not going anywhere you spumks! If I die, you all are coming with me!” he blasted more rounds even killing one or two of his men in the process yet without a care in the world.

One of the retributors pulls out an eight ton machinery out of the wall with his mechanized hands and hauls it at typhoon who tears it apart with his laser eye beam but that was the distraction allowing the other retributor to close the distance in a short bust of insane speed, dropping kicking the pulse weaver out of typhoon’s hand and launching his fist into the throat of the cyber terrorist.

The impact throws typhoon off the ground and far back into some piece of machinery but typhoon isn’t given a second chance for a comeback, the retributor is quick again to dodge typhoon’s eye laser beam aimed at him, rocketing a leg kick into the face of the terrorist, the impact totally crushes the head of the criminal spewing nuts, metalic fragments, blood and bone.

“f*vking spumk!” his voice box altered in a dreary and painful chromatic tone before his power box went offline completely.



TO BE CONTINUED.

And I am back who missed me lol
S.O.W is ready guys!!! Cyberpunk got me thinking about this one big time!

joshkke:
Hi, tried to send u an email, but the address is wrong, sent a pm instead. I'm interested in some cg work for film. Pm pls

Hello, am currently indisposed for CGI work currently, thanks for reaching out to me though.