2026-01-12 04:22:48The man's head snapped around. His eyes,small and mean, like a rat's,locked onto Thorne.
"What did you just say?"
The music from the fiddle and drum kept its clumsy rhythm. Laughter still echoed from the far tables where miners celebrated with full bellies and loosened tongues.
But here, in this shadowed corner where the torchlight barely reached, the air had changed. It felt thicker somehow. Heavier.
Thorne didn't blink. His fingers still gripped the man's wrist, holding it suspended in the air where it had been raised to strike. He could feel the pulse beneath the skin,quick, angry. His own heartbeat was steady. Calm.
"She said you should let her go."
The words came out quiet. Not a threat. Not a plea. Just a statement of fact.
For a moment, nothing happened. The man stared at him, his mouth slightly open like he was trying to process what he'd just heard.
Behind him, his two companions still held the girl's arms, their grips loosening slightly as they glanced between their leader and this stranger who'd appeared from nowhere.
The girl herself had gone very still. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes darting to Thorne's face, then to the hand that held her captor's wrist, then back again.
Then the man laughed.
It started as a chuckle, low in his chest, rumbling like distant thunder. Then it built, growing louder, echoing off the cavern walls. He looked over his shoulder at his two companions, sharing the joke.
"Are you hearing this?"
He asked them, his voice thick with amusement.
"This kid,this ‘nobody’,thinks he can tell us what to do."
The two men grinned back at him, uncertain but willing to follow his lead. One of them snorted. The other shifted his weight, trying to look intimidating.
The leader turned back to Thorne, his laughter fading into something worse,a wide, ugly smile that didn't reach his eyes. He leaned in close enough that Thorne could smell his breath: cheap ale, rotting teeth, and something else. Something sour.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
The question came out soft, dangerous.
"Coming over here, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Acting all high and mighty."
He paused, letting the words hang in the air.
"Playing the hero."
He spat the last word like it tasted foul.
Thorne's expression didn't change. His grip on the man's wrist stayed firm, but not painful. Not yet. His voice came out flat, empty of emotion.
"I'm nobody."
"Damn right you're…"
"Hey, boss!"
One of the other men cut in, his eyes suddenly going wide. He was staring at Thorne now, really looking at him for the first time. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. He pointed with his free hand, the one not holding the girl.
"Wait. Wait, I know him."
His voice rose with excitement, like he'd just solved a puzzle.
"This is the son of Ronan. You know, the prince who killed his own father. The one they sent here ten years ago."
The leader's eyebrows shot up. His head tilted slightly, studying Thorne with new interest. The smile never left his face, but it changed,became sharper, crueler.
"Is that right?"
He stepped back, forcing Thorne to release his wrist. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and looked Thorne up and down, slow and deliberate, like he was examining livestock at market. His eyes lingered on Thorne's torn shirt, his scarred hands, the bruise on his cheek from yesterday's work accident.
"Well, I'll be damned."
He shook his head, still grinning.
"You're ‘that’ Valtor. The disgraced one. The bastard child of a murderer."
A few heads turned at the nearest tables. The conversations there began to quiet, voices dropping to whispers as people craned their necks to see what was happening.
The leader noticed. Of course he noticed. His grin stretched wider, showing more of those yellow teeth. He raised his voice, playing to the growing audience.
"You actually look like him, you know."
He gestured at Thorne's face with one hand.
"Your old man. I saw him once, years ago, before... well."
He made a cutting gesture across his throat.
"Same stupid face. Same dead eyes. Same worthless expression."
More people were watching now. The fiddle had stopped playing. The drummer's hands had gone still on his instrument. Even the conversations at the far tables were dying down as word spread through the hall.
‘Something's happening. A fight. Near the back corner.’
The leader took a step closer, invading Thorne's space. He was taller by a few inches, broader in the shoulders. He used that advantage now, looming.
"How's it feeling, boy?"
His voice dropped to a mock whisper, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.
"Knowing your father was a killer? Knowing he murdered his own father,your grandfather,in cold blood?"
He paused, savoring the moment.
"Knowing your whole family's legacy is nothing but blood and betrayal?"
Thorne's right hand curled into a fist at his side. Slowly. Deliberately. His knuckles went white with the pressure. A vein stood out on the back of his hand, pulsing.
But his face,his face stayed perfectly still. No anger. No pain. No grief. Nothing.
Just cold, empty silence.
The leader noticed the fist. His eyes flicked down to it, then back up to Thorne's face. His grin turned predatory.
"Ohhh, look at that."
He glanced over his shoulder at his men.
"Boys, I think we hurt his feelings."
They laughed on cue, harsh barks that echoed through the gathering hall. The girl between them flinched at the sound, but they barely noticed her anymore. Their attention was fixed on the spectacle their leader was creating.
More people were gathering now. A loose circle was forming around them, miners pressing in from all sides but keeping their distance. Some looked concerned. Most looked curious. A few wore expressions of dark anticipation.
The leader took another step closer. He lifted his hands and made an exaggerated, mocking gesture,pressing his palms together like he was praying, then tilting his head to the side and making a sad, pouty face. His bottom lip stuck out comically.
"Poor little princeling."
He said in a high-pitched baby voice.
"Poor little orphan. Mommy and Daddy are dead, and now he's all alone in the big, scary mine..."
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Chapter 320: The day of vengeance:
They stood together beneath the old oak, the three of them, while the wind rustled the dry leaves and the long shadows crept across the grave. Then Maximus straightened and drew a deep breath.“I need to speak to Williams.”He found the old master in the garden, standing alone beside the broken wall with his hands behind his back, looking out over the river. Williams did not turn when he approached, but he said, quietly, “I wondered when you would come.”“You knew.”“I knew when I saw your face at the funeral. You have your brother’s look when you have decided something.”“What look?”“Like a man who has stopped asking permission.”Maximus almost smiled. He came to stand beside the old master, and for a moment, they both gazed across the steaming water, where the morning sun made rainbows in the mist.“I want to stay,” he said. “I want to join the fight. I want to be taught.”“I know.”“You are not going to say no?”“I would be a hypocrite.” Williams’s voice was dry. “I took a boy of
Chapter 319: Maximus and the Grave of Kester:
A faint, broken whisper ran through the mourners. Sabrina had begun to cry silently.“You told me a guard keeps his post,” Maximus said. “I thought it meant standing still. I understand now. It means standing in the place where you are needed, whatever it costs.” He drew a shuddering breath. “I will keep mine. I do not yet know where it is. But I will find it.”He knelt, laid his hand on the lid, and bowed his head.“Thank you for the gloves.”It was a very small sentence. It broke every heart in the circle.They lowered the coffin into the earth. The ropes creaked. A handful of frozen soil, scattered by Williams, rattled on the lid. Then Maximus took the shovel, and began, with slow, careful strokes, to fill the grave. The others joined in. By the time the mound was full, the sun had cleared the eastern clouds, and a long bar of gold lay across the grass.Williams stepped forward with the silver gauntlet in his hands. He held it out to Maximus.“It was his,” he said. “Ysolde’s gift.
Chapter 316: The brother's name:
“He said it was a good day for it.”A shaky, helpless laugh broke from Maximus, and then the laugh turned to weeping, and he folded forward over the table, his shoulders heaving. Sabrina put an arm around him. Elliot, on the other side, reached over and gripped his hand. Around the table, nobody moved. Cael Dross turned his face away. Breck wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand.When the storm had passed, Maximus lifted his head, dazed, and looked around the table at the faces watching him.“Thank you,” he said. “For telling me. For keeping him safe.”“It was the least we could do,” said Corwin.“It was a great deal.”“We will bury him tomorrow,” Williams said. “At dawn. Under the old oak, if you are willing. He liked it there.”“I know. He told me about it.” A faint breath of a smile. “In his letters. He said the wine tasted better under that tree.”“It does,” said Adrian gruffly.“Then that is where he should be.”They buried him at first light.The morning was cold and clear, wi
Chapter 315: The Burning rings:
“Everything.”“Even the golden light?”“All of it.”Maximus drew a long breath. His eyes were bright with tears, and his lips trembled. “I wanted to hate you,” he said, hoarsely. “All the way here. I rehearsed it. What I would say. How I would look at you.”“You may.”“I cannot.”“Why not?”“Because you look the way I feel.” His voice broke. “You look like someone who would trade places with him if you could.”Thorne’s eyes filled. He did not answer. But his throat worked, and a single tear slid down his cheek and fell into the dirt.“Maximus,” Williams said gently. “Come. He is waiting.”They went down into the vault together, the old master and the boy, and the others stayed above. It was a long time before anyone saw them again.When they emerged, the sun was high. Maximus walked out of the stairwell like a sleepwalker, with Williams’s hand under his elbow. His face was blotched and swollen. His hair was wet. His eyes, when they met Thorne’s, were red and raw and strangely calm.“H
Chapter 314: Thorne, the flaming leader:
“It is.” Torvin dismounted. “It belonged to Sorceress Melissa. We took it this morning, after the battle. It carries no malice now. It only floats.”Elliot and Sabrina exchanged glances. “We are going to cross a boiling river in a dead sorceress’s boat,” Elliot said, faintly.“She is not dead.”“That does not make it better.”“It does not.” Torvin held out a hand. “Come. We are expected.”They climbed in. The hull dipped slightly beneath their weight, then steadied, and Torvin pushed off with a long pole. The little vessel glided out into the current. Steam curled around it in thick white wreaths. The water hissed on all sides, black and bubbling, and Maximus gripped the rail and stared at the churning surface, his heart pounding.For a long minute, nothing happened. Then, as they drew near the middle of the river, the steam thinned. The bubbles stilled. The current slackened, and the black water grew smooth and clear, as if the whole river had drawn a breath and held it. A faint, war
Chapter 313: The walking Corpses:
“How close?”“A day. Perhaps less.”“I want to ride through the night.”“You are exhausted.”“I do not care.”“You will fall from the saddle.” Torvin’s voice was gentle. “Rest. Tomorrow, you will see the river. It is better to arrive with a clear head.”“I cannot sleep.”“Then lie still. It is nearly the same.”Maximus did not answer. But he did not argue, either, and when they camped that night in a hollow beneath a spur of black rock, he lay on his blanket staring up at the stars, and for a long time nobody spoke. Sabrina sat nearby, keeping watch. Elliot snored softly.“You are awake,” Sabrina said.“Yes.”“Are you afraid?”“Of what?”“Of seeing him.”Maximus closed his eyes. “I do not know what I am afraid of,” he said. “I think I am afraid that he will look the same.”“That would be a mercy.”“It would be a lie. He should not look the same.” His voice shook. “He should look like a man who has been taken from the world. Instead he will look like himself, and I will keep waiting fo
You may also like
The Hero of Vengeance
DovahKean18.9K viewsWielder Of The Dragon Flame
Joseph Louis20.2K viewsPRIMORDIAL LORD OF CHAOS
Supreme king26.7K viewsAlex Brim, Hero for Hire
krushandkill28.9K viewsThe Prince Who Was Reborn as a Monster
Unique Eunice 84 viewsGODGAME
Roth Raven 172 viewsThe Weakest Mage at the World's Greatest Academy
Classic309 viewsAgents of the divine war
Zubbyblaq44 views