Chapter 5 - The Under-City
The capital of Aurelian was built on layers of history. High above sat the royal palace and the glitzy marble districts of the nobility. Below that were the bustling markets of the commoners. But deep beneath the surface, carved into the ancient catacombs and abandoned aqueducts of a forgotten civilization, lay the Under-City.
It was a realm of shadows, forgotten thieves, outlawed scholars, and survivors of the King’s brutal purges.
Brandon kicked open a rusted iron grate hidden behind a mountain of rotting garbage in a blind alleyway. He shoved William inside first, then slid in after him, pulling the heavy grate back into place just as a squad of royal horsemen thundered past the alley entrance.
They slid down a long, stone chute, tumbling out onto a damp floor of smooth, moss-covered granite.
The air here was cold, smelling of ancient stone, ozone, and damp earth. torchlight flickered in the distance, illuminating a massive underground cavern filled with makeshift wooden structures, rope bridges, and hundreds of quiet, watching eyes.
Figures emerged from the shadows. Men and women wearing mismatched armor, leather jerkins, and long cloaks, holding bows and daggers. They didn't look like common criminals; their posture was disciplined, their eyes sharp.
"Stand down," a loud, feminine voice commanded from a high wooden platform above them.
A woman in her late twenties stepped out into the torchlight. She wore lightweight iron brigandine armor, a long recurve bow slung across her back, and her dark crimson hair was braided tightly against her scalp. A long, jagged scar matched the one on Brandon’s neck.
She stared down at Brandon, her hand trembling against the grip of her dagger.
"General?" she whispered, as if speaking to a ghost. "Is it really you?"
Brandon dropped his meteor-steel sword into its leather sheath and took off his ragged hood. "It's me, Clara. I've brought the boy."
Clara dropped her dagger. It clattered against the stone floor as she rushed forward, dropping to one knee before William. She looked into the boy’s blue eyes, her own filling with sudden, heavy tears.
"By the ancestors..." Clara breathed. "He looks just like his father."
William looked at her, confused. "You... you knew my father?"
"Your father was Prince Richard, the rightful heir to the throne before King Robert murdered him," Clara said, her voice dripping with fierce loyalty. "We are the Remnants of the Silver Legion. We have been waiting ten long years in the dark for your return, Lord William."
Around them, hundreds of underground fighters dropped to one knee, unsheathing their blades and pressing the hilts against their hearts in silent, absolute allegiance.
William’s head spun. "Prince Richard? My father was a prince?"
Brandon placed a heavy, reassuring hand on William's shoulder. "I kept it from you to protect you, lad. If Robert or Adrian had known a child of Richard had survived the night of the coup, they would have sent every assassin in the continent to hunt you down. You needed to grow up strong. You needed to learn the truth of the bow before you took up the weight of your name."
Before William could digest the staggering revelation, a deep, resonant vibration echoed through the underground cavern.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Tiny rocks and dust rained down from the high arched ceiling.
Clara stood up instantly, her face turning deadly serious. "They found the entrance."
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"Impossible," Brandon frowned. "How could they track us so quickly?"
"Adrian didn't track us with scouts," Clara spat, pointing up toward the ceiling. "He brought the Iron Siege Engine. He’s going to collapse the entire lower district to bury us alive!"
