The King's Guard

“Your Father has every right to be hesitant about your joining the Shadow Corp.” An old man with scars on his face tells the tales of a young man who served in the military years ago and finally settled down after years of service, said behind the counter as he rinsed a glass cup.

“But it's my decision, and I'm mature enough to know what I want now.” A tall and lean young man with short dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes argued back.

The old man who goes by the name Fred, popularly called Sir Fred, turned around, stacking the glass cup onto the racks before he turned to address the young man in front of him. 

“Yes indeed, you are mature enough to make your own decision, but the Shadow Corp is surrounded by an air of mystery that even I with my years in service could not decipher. All I know about them is that they protect the royal families, and that's just it.” Sir Fred tried to explain to him.

“How hard can protecting the royal family be.” The young man asked. Kael Draven, the son of a humble blacksmith, grew up in a small village on the outskirts of Kingdom Veridale. His mother died while he was young, and his dad was left to care for him. From a young age, Kael had dreams of joining the ranks of the Shadow Corps as he was fascinated with them and the mystery and rumours surrounding them but his father dreaded the thought of him joining them and it had always caused arguments between them.

“The Royal Family themselves are a complex bunch, son. They meddle in things commoners like us wouldn't dream about, and their lives are in constant danger. To protect the royal family, you must be willing to sacrifice your life, and I'm sure your dad wouldn't want to lose you the way he lost your mom.” Sir Fred said, causing the atmosphere to turn sour.

Kael became quiet as he thought about how his dad had changed when he lost his mother. His dad was one who loved exploring. As a blacksmith, he had created several weapons for the local village guards and for visitors who had come to visit, having learned about his remarkable skills. However, since the death of his mother, his dad had become reclusive and withdrawn, unwilling to create any sort of weapon as he now saw weapons in a new light, as a weapon for destruction and death.

Kael nodded slowly, lost in thought as the weight of Sir Fred's words settled over him. The old man placed a hand on Kael's shoulder, offering a silent comfort before turning back to his work. The small wine shop, dimly lit by flickering lanterns, had a rustic charm. The wooden beams overhead were worn with age, and the shelves behind the counter were lined with bottles of various shapes and sizes, filled with deep reds and rich ambers. The smell of oak and fermented grapes filled the air, a comforting scent that Kael had grown accustomed to over the years.

As the last of the customers trickled out into the cool night, Kael began helping Sir Fred close up. He moved with practised ease, gathering empty glasses and wiping down the tables while Fred counted the day's earnings and locked up the cash register. The atmosphere was peaceful, with only the distant chirping of crickets breaking the silence.

Kael moved to the front of the shop and began securing the windows, drawing the heavy curtains over them to block out the night. He could hear the clinking of bottles as Fred carefully stacked them behind the counter. The two of them had fallen into a comfortable routine, and Kael found solace in the familiar tasks. As he finished with the windows, he walked back towards the counter where Fred was placing the last bottle on the shelf.

"All done here, Sir Fred," Kael said, his voice low in the quiet of the shop.

"Good lad," Fred replied, giving him a small nod of approval. "Let’s lock up and head out. It’s getting late."

Just as Fred began to extinguish the lanterns, the front door suddenly burst open with a violent crash. The wooden door slammed against the wall, and a group of rough-looking men stormed into the shop, their faces twisted with malice. They were bandits, dressed in tattered clothes and brandishing crude weapons—knives, clubs, and rusted swords.

"Hand over the money, old man, or we'll make this ugly," the leader of the bandits snarled, his voice low and threatening as he pointed his knife at Fred.

Kael's heart pounded in his chest, but he quickly stepped in front of Fred, positioning himself between the bandits and the old man. His eyes narrowed, and he instinctively reached for the nearest weapon—a sturdy broomstick leaning against the counter.

"We're not giving you anything," Kael said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through him.

The bandits sneered, clearly underestimating the young man. The leader lunged forward, aiming a wild slash at Kael with his knife. Kael reacted swiftly, using the broomstick to deflect the attack, the wooden handle connecting with the bandit’s wrist with a sharp crack. The knife clattered to the floor as the bandit stumbled back, clutching his injured hand.

Before the others could react, Kael spun the broomstick in a wide arc, sweeping it low and knocking the legs out from under another bandit. The man fell hard, his head striking the edge of a table as he went down, dazed but not unconscious.

Fred, though older and less spry, wasn’t idle. He grabbed a heavy wine bottle from the counter and, with surprising speed, brought it down on the head of a third bandit who had attempted to rush him. The bottle shattered, and the bandit crumpled to the ground in a heap, groaning in pain.

The remaining two bandits hesitated, their confidence shaken by the unexpected resistance. Kael seized the moment, driving the broomstick into the stomach of the nearest one with enough force to knock the wind out of him. The bandit doubled over, and Kael followed up with a swift kick to the side of his head, sending him sprawling across the floor.

The last bandit, realizing he was outmatched, turned to flee, but Kael was quicker. He launched the broomstick like a spear, catching the man in the back of the knees and sending him crashing to the floor. Before the bandit could recover, Kael was on him, delivering a well-placed punch that knocked him out cold.

The shop fell silent once more, save for the heavy breathing of Kael and Sir Fred. The bandits lay scattered across the floor, groaning or unconscious. Kael stood in the centre of the wreckage, his chest heaving as the adrenaline began to subside.

Sir Fred stepped forward, placing a hand on Kael’s shoulder. "You did well, lad," he said, his voice filled with quiet pride. "But let’s get these scoundrels tied up and call for the guards. We need to make sure they don’t cause any more trouble tonight."

Kael nodded, still catching his breath. Together, they began to drag the bandits toward the back of the shop, where they could be securely restrained until the authorities arrived. As they worked, Kael couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction—he had defended the shop and protected Sir Fred.

“You see that I can handle myself, Sir Fred. My dad has nothing to worry about, I would be fine.” Kael said as he tightened the knots around one of the bandit's legs.

“I do not doubt you handling yourself Kael afterall I'm the one who trained you. What I'm bothered about is your interest in the Shadow Corps.” Fred said dusting his hands as he walked towards the entrance to the wine shop and began locking it up.

Kael's eyes gleamed with determination as he spoke. "The biannual choosing ceremony for the Shadow Corps is happening tomorrow, Sir Fred. I want to register. If I make it in, no one will ever question my decisions again. But if I don’t, I’ll accept whatever you and my father decide. I’ll even promise to follow your advice without question."

Sir Fred hesitated, the lines on his weathered face deepening as he considered the young man’s words. He saw the fire in Kael’s eyes, the same fire he once had in his own youth. "Kael, it's not my place to decide your future. That’s between you and your father. But if he agrees, I’ll personally take you to the city. I’ll even be there to see you off at the ceremony."

Kael’s heart swelled with excitement, his earlier fatigue vanishing in an instant. "Thank you, Sir Fred! I’ll talk to him tonight. I know he’ll understand this time. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to achieve my dreams."

Fred couldn’t help but smile at Kael’s enthusiasm. The boy had spirit, that was certain, and a level of resolve that reminded Fred of his younger self. "Just remember, lad, the path you’re choosing isn’t easy. But if you’re sure, then there’s nothing more to say."

Kael nodded, his thoughts already racing ahead to the conversation he’d soon have with his father. He could almost see himself standing among the ranks of the Shadow Corps, a dream finally realized.

"Let's get out of here, lad," Fred said, glancing at the overturned tables and scattered debris left behind by the bandits. "It’s been a long night, and tomorrow’s going to be even longer."

Kael grinned. "Tomorrow’s the first step towards my future."