Chapter 8 - The Prince’s Duel
William didn't scream. As he slid off the edge of the collapsing roof, he threw his body forward, reaching out with both hands. He managed to catch hold of a thick, hanging leather banner emblazoned with the royal crest.
The fabric ripped under his weight, slowing his descent just enough as he swung through a second-story window, crashing onto the wooden floorboards of an abandoned tailor shop.
He tumbled across the floor, covered in dust and splinters, but held onto his bow.
The front door of the shop was kicked open with a violent smash.
Prince Adrian stepped inside, his longsword dripping with blood, his face twisted in a murderous snarl. Behind him were four elite royal bodyguards clad in heavy plate armor.
"Found you, little rat," Adrian hissed, stepping over the broken furniture.
William scrambled to his feet, pulling a single arrow from his quiver. He notched it onto his bowstring and aimed straight at Adrian’s heart.
"Don't come any closer," William said, his voice firm, though his small hands trembled slightly from exhaustion.
Adrian laughed—a cold, cruel sound. "You think that toy bow can pierce royal plate armor at five paces? You're a child playing at being a hero, William. Your father was weak, and you are weaker."
"My father died fighting for the people," William said, his eyes blazing with cold blue fury. "You burn your own city because you are afraid."
"I am the King!" Adrian screamed, drawing his sword back and leaping forward with a lethal, sweeping strike aimed straight at William’s neck!
William dropped flat to his stomach. The heavy steel blade whistled inches over his head, slicing cleanly through a thick wooden support beam behind him.
Before Adrian could pull his sword back, William fired his arrow from the floor—not at Adrian’s chest, but directly into the unarmored joint behind Adrian’s right knee!
THACK!
"AHHHGH!" Adrian shrieked in agony as the iron arrow tip pierced his tendon. He collapsed to one knee, dropping his sword as pure, blinding pain shot up his leg.
The four elite bodyguards rushed forward to cut William down.
CRASH!
The wooden wall of the shop exploded inward. General Brandon burst through the debris like a enraged bear, his meteor-steel blade spinning in a deadly vortex of light.
CLANG! SPARK! SLICE!
In less than three seconds, all four armored bodyguards were disarmed, their weapons shattered, and knocked unconscious onto the floor.
Brandon stood over the kneeling Prince Adrian, the tip of his meteor-steel longsword resting lightly against the hollow of Adrian’s throat.
Adrian panted heavily, blood trickling down his leg, staring up at the old general with wide, terrified eyes. "Don't... don't kill me! I am the prince! I will give you gold! Land! Anything you want!"
"You have nothing that honor desires, boy," Brandon spat cold disgust.
"Grandfather, wait," William said, stepping forward.
May you like
Brandon looked at William. "He tried to end your line, William. He tried to burn the city."
"If we kill him here in the dark, we are no better than him," William said, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "He will face the judgment of the entire kingdom."
