THE TRASH PRINCE'S BLUEPRINTS SYSTEM

CHAPTER 3: THE FROSTMARK DINING HALL MASSACRE

“Your Highness, what’s the meaning of this?”

Sir Lysander Frostmark freezes for a fraction of a second as he stares down the long black barrel of the rifled musket aimed directly at his face.

The dining hall changes instantly.

Fear spreads like cold water spilled across stone.

Serving boys drop trays.

Wine goblets stop mid-air.

Laughter dies.

Music stops.

Serving girls and boys flee first, running toward the doors, with their skirts and aprons flying, & slippers slapping against marble floors as they escape the coming violence.

Knights of House Frostmark slowly move their hands toward their sword hilts.

Steel whispers softly as blades shift in their scabbards.

Holy Mages sent by the Church begin to tense.

Their hands glow faintly with gold as divine mana gathers around their fingers.

Holy runes flicker in the air like sparks of sunlight.

Around the dining table, castle garrison archers wearing the Frostmark direwolf emblem begin to nock arrows, draw bows, and aim directly at the Third Prince.

The entire hall is now a battlefield frozen one second before the first strike.

Such fucking insolence. These damn soldiers dare to draw their weapons against their own Prince. But I can’t blame them for it. A pity they don’t know who they’re up against. My goddamn magically enhanced gear is expensive for a reason.

His finger rests lightly on the musket trigger.

“I advise you to fucking stand down, my lord. You have been found guilty of high charges against the people of Frostmark Province, and the King as well, Sir Lysander Frostmark.”

His voice is smooth, calm, & mockingly polite.

Lysander laughs nervously.

“Charges? What charges? On whose authority are you acting on? I am an innocent man! You have no evidence against me. I will have House Frostmark appeal to the Royal Supreme Court and to the King as well, against your actions. This is tyranny.”

Raphael tilts his head slightly behind his helm.

“Your family is very free to appeal to the King and the Royal Supreme Court indeed, Lord Lysander. But before you forget, I am also a royal. And I don’t need their permission to act either. This feasting alone and the obvious neglect and decline of Frostmark Province alone is already evidence enough.”

His voice carries finality.

It’s a death sentence disguised as conversation.

Before anyone can react, Lysander suddenly stands and draws his massive sword.

“For the honor of House Frostmark!”

He charges forward like a bull in full plate armor, with his sword raised high.

Raphael does not move immediately.

I bet that fucking sword is too heavy to swing, my lord. And the weight of that armor slows you down as well. You could have surrendered, and saved your life, while I was being pleasant.

He squeezes the trigger.

The rifled musket roars like thunder inside the hall.

The recoil is absorbed instantly by the armor’s kinetic dispersion runes.

The Noctralith round slams into Lysander’s armor, and finds the weak joints between plates.

To everyone else, it looks like the bullets barely do anything as Lysander keeps charging forward, with his armor absorbing most of the damage.

But Raphael knows that every bullet that pierces weak points causes internal bleeding, joint damage, shock trauma, & cracked armor.

Lysander raises his sword and swings for Raphael’s neck.

Raphael steps sideways lazily.

The sword misses, & only grazes his shoulder armor.

Raphael drops the musket, draws both flintlocks in one smooth motion, & fires five shots straight into Lysander’s exposed face.

“Checkmate, Lysander Frostmark.”

Lysander staggers, wobbles, then collapses face-first onto the stone floor.

Silence fills the hall for half a second.

Then Sebastian Frostmark screams.

“You! You killed my father. You will pay for this, Prince Cain!”

Raphael calmly holsters his pistols and picks up the musket again.

“Yes, I killed him, Lord Sebastian Frostmark. And you are my next target. Come at me, if you dare.”

Sebastian turns to the hall and shouts.

“Ladies & gentlemen, it’s time to teach this wayward Prince who really owns Frostmark Province. He is only an unwanted guest. Attack him at once!”

Everything explodes into chaos.

Holy Mages begin chanting.

“Oh Holy One, grant us the mana and the courage to smite down this heretical prince. Give us the strength to teach him-”

Raphael fires rapid shots from the rifled musket, with the runic chamber cycling automatically.

Holy Mages drop one by one, as bullets pierce skulls before their spells finish.

“As if I’ll fucking let you priests finish your chanting. Next time, use spells with no chanting time and more destructive power.”

Arrows suddenly rain toward him.

Half the archers release at once.

The arrows hit his armor, but they bounce off harmlessly.

The Umbralith armor glows faintly with a dark aura as it repels even Holy-enchanted arrows.

“Impossible.”

One archer whispers.

Raphael reloads calmly.

“Anything is possible in this world, good sir. And you, my dear fellow, will pay the price for this… very invaluable lesson. With your life of course.”

He fires quickly & steadily with his musket.

Each shot drops an archer with perfect accuracy straight to their heads.

By the time he stops shooting, half the archers are dead on the floor.

The remaining knights and swordsmen immediately drop their weapons and kneel.

They are soldiers, not idiots who just watched a one-man massacre.

“Useless imbeciles! I paid you, fed you, armed you, and this is how you repay me?”

Sebastian screams at them.

Raphael gestures toward the door.

“ Leave, if you fucking treasure your goddamn lives. I’m not asking twice. “

They leave immediately.

Raphael orders two guards to close and bar the dining hall doors.

Now only Sebastian and Raphael remain inside the hall, surrounded by bodies, spilled wine, broken plates, and the smell of gunpowder and blood.

Sebastian slowly draws two enchanted daggers glowing with Holy light.

“I don’t believe that fancy toy of yours will stop my sneak attacks, Prince Cain. You just earned the ire of House Frostmark.”

Raphael lifts the musket and aims directly at his chest.

“Oh, really, Sebastian? Bring it on then, you corrupt old fucker. Show me what you got.”