All Chapters of FROM PITS TO THRONE: A Crown Forged In Chains: Chapter 1
- Chapter 7
7 chapters
Chapter 1: The fall of Miraolden
From the highest tower of Walton's castle which served as the palace of the kingdom of Miraolden, seventeen-year-old Prince Liam watched the horizon swallow his kingdom. Black smoke rose in thick columns from the outer villages, carried on a wind that already stank of pitch and death. Below him, the capital’s streets churned with fleeing citizens, their cries rising like a tide against the stone walls and the great iron-banded gates still held, but for how long?Liam’s hand was tightened on the pommel of his sword, no longer the boy who sparred with blunted weapons under the watchful eye of the master-at-arms. Today he was the heir, and the kingdom expected him to bleed for it.A horn sounded three times from the walls, serving as a signal that Robert Hawks’ vanguard had reached the outer ditch.Liam turned and ran down the stairs, boots clanging on stone as he passed servants loading carts with silver plate and ancient tapestries, their faces gray with terror. In the great hall he f
Chapter 2: Scattered heirs
Queen Eliza stood on the palace steps, flanked by Robert Hawks’ guards. She watched as her children were led past her one by one and did not allow a single tear to fall where Robert could see it.First came Tamira, the eldest, her dark hair was unbound, falling over the simple shift they had forced her into. In her arms she clutched Silas, who had cried himself into an uneasy sleep. A guard prodded her with a spear butt when she slowed to look back at her mother.“Keep moving, princess,” he sneered.Tamira’s eyes met Eliza’s across the torchlit courtyard. In that glance passed everything they could not say: I love you. Be strong. Survive.Eliza inclined her head but Tamira understood. She pressed her lips to Silas’s forehead and walked on.Next was Calista, her small bundle of belongings confiscated at the gate. She had tried to run to her mother, but a guard caught her by the arm and dragged her forward. At the bottom of the steps she twisted free long enough to throw her arms around
Chapter 3: Arrival in the pits
The ship dropped anchor in the harbor of Korthos the chief port of Etoibard, on a morning thick with sea-mist and the smell of fish guts. Liam had lost count of the days, he remembered counting twenty-eight, perhaps thirty. His body ached from the chains, his skin was salt-crusted and his stomach gnawed at itself, but his eyes were clear and sharp when the hatch above him finally opened.Rough hands hauled him up the ladder into blinding sunlight. He blinked, squinting at the sprawl of white stone buildings climbing the hills from the water, red-tiled roofs gleaming like scales. The harbor teemed with galleys and merchant cogs flying a dozen banners as the large bronze bell tolled.“Move, princeling,” growled the sailor who had brought him extra water weeks ago. There was no kindness in the voice now, only business.They marched him down the gangplank in a line of ten slaves, all shackled ankle to ankle. Liam’s bare feet hit the hot planks of the quay, then the rough cobblestones beyo
Chapter 4: Blood and Survival
By dawn the Fievian was brought into the fighting pit.Laim heard the gates grind open long before he saw the man. The corridor filled with the low rumble of the crowd filtering into the stands. Merchants in silk robes, nobles with painted faces, common folk who had saved coppers for weeks to watch men die. The air carried the sharp tang of oiled steel and the sweeter rot of blood already soaked into the sand.Garrick crouched beside Laim’s cell bars, wrapping fresh cloth around his hands.“Listen closely,” the old fighter muttered. “Vorus the Fievian is a three year undefeated champion. He fights with a curved falx that can take a head clean off. Likes to feint high, then hook low for the legs. Stay inside his reach or outside it. Never in the middle.”Laim flexed his fingers, feeling the pull of half-healed scabs across his knuckles. “Shield?”Garrick snorted. “Jarrett’s feeling generous. Small buckler and a short sword. Real steel this time one with a proper edge. The crowd wants
Chapter 5: The Bargain Struck
One month had passed since Laim’s arrival in Korthos; one month of blood, sand, and the roar of crowds that grew louder with every victory. The city had begun to claim him as its own. Taverns toasted “Laim the Unbroken”; children scratched his name into alley walls bookmakers adjusted odds in his favor for the first time.But in the cells beneath Jarrett’s Arena, nothing had truly changed. The straw was still foul, the food barely enough to fuel the next fight and the chains though lighter remained still.Laim sat on the edge of his pallet, sharpening a small shard of flint against the stone floor. Garrick watched him from the doorway of the adjoining cell with arms folded.“You’re brooding again,” the old fighter said.“I’m counting,” Laim replied quietly. “Thirty-one days. eighteen fights, if you count the scraps in the yard. Not one coin toward freedom.”Garrick spat into the straw. “Jarrett’s stringing you along. Every win fills his purse, not yours.”Laim’s eyes were hard. “Then
Chapter 6: Champions and Betrayals
The next opponent arrived in chains of silver instead of iron.His name was Sereth, once a knight of the Etoibardian royal guard, stripped of title and condemned to the pits for treason. Tall and golden-haired, he moved with the grace of a court swordsman, and the crowd loved him for it. Jarrett had paid a king’s ransom to bring him from a rival arena in the north as proof that the bargain was being honored in name only.Laim watched from the training yard as Sereth was led through the gates. The knight’s eyes swept the compound with calm disdain, lingering on Laim for a moment before moving on. Even in captivity, he carried himself like a man who expected deference.Garrick spat. “Pretty boy will carve you slow if you let him. Fights with rapier and dagger. Likes to strike the face.”Laim flexed his injured leg. The muscle still pulled with every step serving as a constant reminder. Three weeks had passed since the Red Bear; the limp was less pronounced, but far from gone.“I won’t
Chapter 7: The Last Month's Shadow
Two months remained on the bargain when the unthinkable happened.Laim faced a champion called Torvald One-Hand, a hulking raider from the frozen isles who had lost his left arm to a bear and replaced it with a spiked iron ball on a short chain. The fight was savage but straightforward, Torvald’s raw power against Laim’s speed and cunning. The crowd loved the contrast; the scarred foreign slave against the northern monster.For the first half, Laim danced and cut, opening shallow wounds on Torvald’s legs and sides, wearing him down. The raider swung his iron ball in wide arcs, each miss shattering sand into sprays. Laim’s old thigh injury ached, but held.Then came the mistake.Torvald feinted a wild overhead swing. Laim ducked inside, sword thrusting for the heart. But the raider had anticipated. The iron ball whipped around in a short, vicious hook. It caught Laim full on the left side, just below the ribs.Laim felt his ribs crack in two, perhaps three. The impact hurled him across