Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king-Chapter 1022: A night of art(3)

Alpheo straightened his aching back, the movement producing a faint, dry pop in his spine. He took a moment to let his gaze wander from the stage, stealing a brief, sideways glance at his guest.

Merelao seemed entirely consumed by the narrative. There was no posture of forced politeness or the arched brow of aristocratic boredom; he sat with his straight back slightly curved forward, elbows resting on his thighs, his eyes fixed on the wooden boards with an eager intensity. Alpheo felt a flicker of quiet pride, after all the spectacle was his.

Leaving the thought to drift, Alpheo turned his attention back to the unfolding myth.

"The Prince made use of Luna’s gift," the narrator’s voice boomed, as the stage shifted to a cold, stone-walled painted chamber. "As soon as any soul crossed his threshold, the Prince knew. His nose, scented the truth before a word was spoken. To the virtuous, he offered his hearth; to the wicked, he barred the door."

But the scene on stage grew darker. Figures representing the villagers huddled in the corners, weeping.

"As time passed, new shadows emerged. The Prince had sheltered himself, but he was forced to watch as the evil he turned away from his own gates fell upon his people. For every thief he exiled from his roof, two subjects came to him in rags, robbed by the very man the Prince had spared. He realized, with a heavy heart, that by merely evading harm to himself, he had delivered it to the innocent."

Driven by guilt, Wolf returned to the forest. He did not seek the solace of the River or the Tree, but called out for Luna.

’I beg you, being of great power! Give me the strength to shelter those I protect by delivering a final harm to the wicked!’

Luna appeared to him. But did not offer her power to the prince.For her debt was already paid ’I have repaid my debt to you, Wolf. If you seek a new power, you must bring a gift. A gift for one of mine.’

The Prince returned the next day with sacks of golden grain, but Luna shook her head. "This is the toil of your people, not of yourself. The gift must be of your own hand."

Wolf looked at his palms, helpless. He knew not how to till the earth, nor how to weave or build. He was a creature of law and leisure.

’O Prince,’ a tiny, melodic voice chirped from the moss. A single, vibrant flower leaned toward his knee. ’You were the one who planted me. I am of your labor. Offer me as the gift, and receive the power to strike down the dark.’

Wolf recoiled, unwilling to harm the beauty he himself had fostered. But the flower did not relent, pleading to serve its master’s noble cause.

Finally, with a heart of lead, the Prince reached out. He gripped the stem and pulled, but the flower was flexible and young; it did not break. It only bent and screamed,a thin sound of agony that echoed through the trees.

Shamed and desperate, Wolf tugged with a frantic, brutal strength. The cries grew louder until the stem finally snapped, and silence was once more.

Crying, his face stained with tears, the Prince offered the crushed bloom to Luna.

’With the power to scent the evil,’ Luna declared, her voice turning cold as iron, ’I now give you the power to end it. As you have done to the flower, so shall you do to the wicked. I grant you the authority to draw death upon those who deserve it.’

With that Prince Wolf’s teeth grew into ivory shards; his nails, once manicured and soft, elongated into black mountain peaks. He raked a claw across his own arm, and watched as the blood welled.

Satisfied, Wolf did what Luna permitted him, he went on a hunt. He scented the rot in the hearts of men and sank his teeth into their throats. He killed the evil before it could breathe a lie. But his people, who once loved the just Prince, now saw only a monster. He killed indiscriminately, for even in the hearts of villagers there is malice.

He protected them from harm, but in doing so, he became the harm they feared most. Homage ceased. The grain stopped coming.

Winter arrived, and the Prince sat in a frozen hall. He had no wood for his fire and no bread for his belly. But the cold of the air was nothing compared to the ice of his solitude.

Hungry, shivering, and dejected, Wolf crawled back to the forest. He looked to the flowers for another sacrifice, his long claws twitching with a desperate, starving need.

’A gift,’ he croaked into the dark. ’I need another gift.’

But this time, the forest was silent. The flowers remained tucked in the earth, their petals closed tight. None rose to offer themselves; they had heard the screams of the first flower and knew the price of the Prince’s mercy.

Alone in the biting frost, Wolf began to weep. The long, black claws he had once prized as weapons now felt like heavy, useless burdens. Driven by hunger , he reached down. He did not wait for an offer. He found a small, shivering stem and, with his claws, he sliced through it. He felt no nobility in the act, but he offered the gift to Luna once more.

’I was once the heartbeat of my people,’ the Prince cried into the frozen dark, ’They queued at my gates for the mere scent of my hospitality. Now, I am hollow, starving, and cursed by a silence that never ends. I wish for the warmth of my people once more! I want them to understand the weight of the toil I carry, to see that I am still the same man who loved them. I wish to banish their fear and see the joy return to their eyes!’

Luna stepped from the shadows, her fingers closing around the mangled, stolen stem of the flower. She looked upon the broken gift with a gaze as cold as winter, she knew this offering had been birthed in theft and desperation, yet it was a gift nonetheless and she had to answer.

’Very well, Prince Wolf,’ she whispered, ’Your wish shall be the law of the earth. Your people shall indeed be blessed with the clarity I gave you. They will understand the burden of your toil, for they shall become the very image of it. They will realize that you never changed, because they will walk the same path of blood.

To your people who shiver in terror and to which you ask joy, I offer the ecstasy of the hunt! Every time they sink their teeth into flesh, every time they draw blood with the claws I give them, happiness shall bloom in their hearts like a dark flower.

To shield you from the winter’s bite, I clothe you in a pelt of thick grey, so that the frost may never reach your skin. Go now, Prince. Take the lead of your pack, and bathe in the love that can only be found in shared suffering.

To find your joy, you shall bring harm to others, just as you did to the flower this night. All the world shall be your enemy, and you shall be the foe of all that breathes. Go now, Foe of Creation! Lead your people once more!’

The Prince watched powerless as his shape buckled and snapped; his noble features elongated into a snout of bone and fur, his screams dissolving into a long, mournful howl that echoed across the courtyard. His people now no longer wept as they became what they feared.

Wolf stood at the head of this monstrous tide, horrified by the legacy he had birthed. Yet, he was no longer a man; he was the leader of a starving nation. With their claw they could no longer toil the earth, they would have starved, at such the prince made his decision.

He would lead them on a hunt.

At first, the pack hunted only the wicked, seeking out the scent of rot to justify their hunger. But the world holds only so much evil, and the hunger of a thousand wolves is a bottomless pit.

Soon, the evil grew scarce and not enough. They began to spill over the borders, descending like a grey storm upon the domains of other princes. They struck down the innocent and the guilty alike, tearing through the peace of the world. And as the blood of strangers hot-sprayed across their fur, the Prince saw the glee in his people’s eyes. He saw them finally happy, finally warm, and finally united.

He knew not," the narrator’s whispered, "that he was the hand that struck the spark of the first War in creation.

He believed he was a savior, yet he was the father of the Age of Strife that wrought the death and the order we now inherit.

A prince who hungered only for the best for his people had instead condemned them to an eternal hunger, and in doing so, he cast a shadow that cursed every throne and every soul that followed.

And for all that heard of their coming and their murders, also heard of Luna her power, and just as many came offering gifts to her."