KING OF THE NORTH

Chapter seven: Master Duncan

The Patriarch lay in a wreckage of broken chairs and cracked marble. His body twitched weakly, his ruined arm hanging at an impossible angle.

He looked horrified from the realization of what happened. 

“Impossible..." the Patriarch wheezed through his broken teeth. "This... this can't be…”

But it was. 

Above him, on the second floor luxury suite, Victoria Caldwell stood at the window with her hands pressed against the glass. The Patriarch's defeat didn't elicit any sympathy or concern from her, instead her face glowed with excitement and her eyes gleamed with barely contained glee. 

“This is absolutely perfect,” She said, elated. 

She spun away from the window and pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.

“Master Duncan,” she said when the call connected. “You need to come to the auction house. Immediately. Yes, right now. I don't care what you're doing. This is urgent.”

She paused and listened for a while. 

"Because I have him. The target Francine has been searching for. He's here. Right here in front of me.”

Another pause. 

“Yes, I'm certain,” She said again. “Get here now. This is our chance,”

She ended the call and practically ran toward the staircase, her expensive heels clicking rapidly on the marble.

***

Down on the main floor, Navine had walked back to the cage where Lyanna was still huddled inside, her eyes wide with shock and fear and hope. 

He knelt down beside the bars.

“It's okay,” he said softly. “I'm getting you out of here.”

Before he could open the cage, a voice cut through the tension.

“STOP!”

Navine turned slowly.

Victoria descended the grand staircase with a smile that didn't quite reach her cold eyes. 

She walked across the blood-stained floor like she was strolling through a garden, completely unbothered by the carnage around her.

“Well, well, well,” She said, “This has been quite the entertaining evening.”

Navine studied her carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

"Who are you?" he asked, “And why do you look like Francine Hale ?” 

Victoria's smile widened, “I'm Victoria Caldwell. Though it seems you know my cousin, Francine, better.”

The crowd, which had been cowering in their seats, suddenly erupted in shocked whispers.

“That's Victoria Caldwell?”

“Francine Hale's cousin?”

“Oh God, he's really finished now!”

“The entire Hale family will come after him!”

Victoria basked in the recognition, her smile growing wider as she clearly enjoyed the fear her name inspired.

Then she turned back to Navine whose eyes had turned so cold that the temperature in the room seemed to drop. 

“You dare reveal YOUR identity right in front of ME," he said quietly. "After everything your family has done.”

Victoria threw her head back and laughed even harder. 

"The real question is how do YOU dare reveal yourself right in front of ME?I should be asking you that. What do I have to fear?” she said, spreading her arms wide. "Look around you! Yes, you're strong. Yes, you took down some guards and an old man past his prime. But you're surrounded. Outnumbered. And most importantly…”

She pulled out her phone and waved it in the air. 

“I've already called for reinforcements. Your audacity to show up here voluntarily is what I hadn't expected. I thought we'd have to hunt you down for months. But you delivered yourself right to us!”

Her eyes gleamed with ambition. 

“Do you know what this means? I can capture both you AND your sister in one fell swoop. This will be a great achievement for me. A massive achievement. Francine will finally recognize my value. I might even escape my marginal position within the family!”

She practically glowed with excitement at the thought. 

Navine looked at her like she was an insect.

“I've taken down everyone you've sent at me,” he said calmly. “Your security. Your legendary bodyguard. One of your three great masters. And you still think you can capture me?”

Victoria's smile did not falter. 

“That's because they weren't the real threat,” she said confidently. “I've invited someone special. Someone who's actually worth a damn in a fight.”

She gestured towards the entrance. 

"Master Duncan is coming. And when he arrives, you're finished.”

As if on cue, The massive doors exploded inward.

One crashed through a support pillar. The other embedded itself in the far wall. Windows shattered and glass rained down like confetti. 

Thick smoke billowed inward.

A massive silhouette emerged from the smoke. 

Master Duncan.

He was six feet seven inches and built like a weapon.  Each step he took made the floor tremble beneath his boots. 

An oppressive aura radiated from him like heat from a furnace. His eyes were dead and empty, like that of a man who'd killed thousands.

At that moment, the rhythmic beating of helicopter blades filled the air. 

Everyone looked up.

Through the glass skylight above, they could see black helicopters hovering overhead, their spotlight illuminating the auction house like a prison searchlight.

Victoria's smile was triumphant.

“You see,” She said, “Master Duncan has just returned from training on the Northern battlefield. You have absolutely no chance of winning,”

She turned to Master Duncan with exaggerated respect, actually bowing slightly.

"Master Duncan, thank you for coming so quickly. This man here – " she pointed at Navine, " – is the one who needs to be dealt with. He's attacked members of the Hale family. He's caused chaos and destruction. He needs to be stopped.”

Master Duncan barely glanced at Victoria. His eyes were fixed on Navine, studying him. 

“You're the troublemaker,” he said. His voice was rough, like gravel grinding together.

Navine said nothing. 

Master Duncan walked closer, his boots crunching on broken glass and debris.

“I heard you took down George Caldwell,” he continued. “One of the three great masters. That's impressive. Most people couldn't manage that.”

He stopped about ten feet from the platform.

“But you made a mistake. You provoked the Hale family. You struck the Patriarch. You've caused damage to people under Francine Hale's protection.”

“If you surrender now, I can make this easy. I'll leave you with an intact corpse. Let you be buried in peace in the church cemetery. That's more mercy than most people in your position get.”

The crowd, who had been terrified moments ago suddenly found their courage again. 

With Master Duncan here, they felt safe. 

“That's right! You can't win!”

“Surrender now!”

Victoria's smile was radiant. She walked closer to Navine with much more confidence than before, "You hear that? Master Duncan trained on the Northern battlefield. He's seen real combat. Real war. Not just street fights and auction house brawls.”

From the wreckage where he'd been lying broken and bloody, Roland Vance stirred.

He was still a swollen, pulverised mess but the sight of Master Duncan and the helicopter had given him hope.

He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, spitting blood onto the floor.

“I'll see how you end up, you piece of shit,” he said, his voice barely intelligible through his shattered jaw.

His bloody face twisted into a monstrous smile. 

“Master Duncan is going to tear you apart! He's going to break every bone in your body just like you did to me! You're going to suffer!”

Navine leapt off the platform and crossed the distance to Roland in two long strides. His boot came up and drove into Roland's ribs with savage force.

The sound of more ribs breaking echoed through the room. Roland's scream cut off as all the air exploded from his lungs. He collapsed face-first onto the blood-slicked floor, gasping like a fish drowning on dry land.

He simply reached out with one hand, grabbed Roland by his thinning hair, and pulled his head back slightly, just enough to expose his face.

Then, with barely any effort, he pressed Roland's face down against the marble floor but the pressure was immense.

By the third press, Roland's nose completely caved in.

Blood sprayed across the white marble like paint splatter.

Navine released him, and Roland's body went limp, unconscious or dead – nobody could tell.

The entire room went silent. 

Navine straightened up slowly and turned to face Master Duncan. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned with cold fury.

“Master Duncan,” he said quietly, his voice carrying through the entire auction house. “Trained on the Northern battlefield.”

He took a step forward.

"You're nothing but a junior officer. A nobody who thinks wearing combat gear makes him special."

He took another step. 

"And you dare speak to me with that kind of arrogance?”