"Is that it?" Phineas giggled. "We're you afraid that we would kill, you? I mean we will. But you're a knight, stand proud."
Aron's Heart pounded like drums. Sweat ran down his brows.
Brask leaned back, "I don't care what a weak man has to say, but no greater insult as he given us than what lay in that box."
He flicked his hands in the air, suddenly the knights rushed in and grabbed Aron by his hands.
"Flay him, we'll wave his remains on the battle ground."
Aron's heart fell to the ground. He clenched his teeth, his breath getting heavier.
"Oh come on, now." Phineas said. "You're Sir Aron of Bran, show a bit more courage!"
Suddenly the lavender scent of Seraphina overtook his senses. The scorching sun raining down on his oversized armor as his sword gnashed that of another squire, the metal causing his hands to vibrate. Ears ringing from the sound. Aron stumbled back, in the noble crowd a beautiful figure watched him, her blonde hair, swayed in the summer breeze.
Her blue eyes captured his heart.
His opponent slammed him to the ground bringing him to reality. Boos and laughs ran through the crowds.
Aron heard her voice as he got up. "I think he fought better."
Tears ran down Aron's face as his mind returned to where he was. "I was supposed to be a great knight!" he thought. "I told my father, my comrades and everyone I knew."
"And now I'm going to die like an animal!"
"Why me? I did nothing wrong. Why was I chosen to die? I severed King Edward honorably and this is my reward?"
Ahhh! He let out a scream.
"I knew nothing off what was in the box!" Aron shouted at the top of his lungs.
"This is interesting," Phineas said gleaming with excitement. "This is the part I always enjoy."
Brask waving his hand. "Will you get him out of here already?"
Aron pushed the men off him, as he bowed at the table. "Please have mercy, I did not know."
"This is pathetic," Phineas rolling his eyes.
As the soldiers dragged him away he caught a glimpse of what lay inside the envelope he carried. His jaw dropped to the ground. The events of today began to twinkle in his mind, connecting. What was random now became planned.
Him, filling in for Sir Landor in secret.
Ben telling Him not to open the box or letter.
Meeting in a secret chamber.
His head fumed with anger, the veins on his temple thumped like great drums, for the words written were. "Goodbye Aron, from Victor."
Aron jumped to his feet, and flung the men from his sides. "I will give you kindrea!"
"What?" Brask said stopping the soldiers from dragging him any further.
"You want passage through Kindrea? I can open the gates for you!" Aron said.
"Those gates take about four minutes to fully open, and one man cannot operate them alone." Farak the mage said.
"Ha-ha!" Phineas glimmering with excitement. "Come on Aron of Bran, think! There's got to be a way to save your skin, literally."
Aron sighed deeply, and turned his face from his audience. "I will give you princess Seraphina. And kindrea will be at your mercy."
The room fell silent, the men at the table glanced at each other curious of what the other thought.
"And how will you do that?" Brask asked stroking the beard on his chin.
"She is deeply in love with me." Aron gestured. "I can get her out of the castle, and into your hands."
One of the noble knights, sir Gavix, leaned in. "Men will say anything to save their lives. Why should we believe him?"
Farak's eyes glowed brighter as he starred at Aron. "He tells no lies."
"Sir Aron of Bran, you're truly a special one," Phineas said. "A knight with no honor, willing to use the one he loves for his own gain. I like you!"
Aron turned his face away in shame.
Brask gave Phineas the side eye. Hissing as he turned to his mage.
"Farak, make sure he doesn't betray us," Brask said. "A man like this cannot be trusted."
He nodded, twisting his hands in unusual motions. Chanting strange words at a low tone.
"Stand, Aron!" Farak said. He waved his hands in the air, drawing patterns with traces of light that spun from his fingertips.
In an instant, Aron's body grew stiff. His eyes widened in horror. His shadow slithered up his legs with a sensation like cold oil being poured beneath his skin.
"We will commune through your shadow, and if you diverge from our agreement. It will…kill you!" Farak warned.
"Understood," Aron nodded.
"And if you can't deliver the princess in two days…it will kill you," General Brask said.
Farak turned to Brask in a state of confusion. "Sir, I've already given it perimeters," He contested.
"As long as they aren't my orders, they don't matter." Brask replied, starring him down.
Farak nodded, keeping his head down.
"Off you go then, Aron." Phineas said.
General Brask swung his hand hitting Phineas immediately. "I've let you run your mouth long enough. But over step your boundaries and even the king wouldn't be able to save you."
Phineas, with his head bent down, smirked. "Just you wait, I'll be on your seat very soon." He thought to himself.
Brask arranged his misaligned cape as he drew his eyes to Aron. "Tell Edward that I shall burn Kindrea to the ground, for his disrespect."
Aron nodded.
"When I give you an order, you answer, yes sir!" Brask shouted.
Aron, stood chest high. His stance a stark contrast to the pain in his chest. "Yes sir!"
"Now pull out your hand," Brask said.
Aron confused, but with no option pulled his right arm out. "Wait!" He hesitated, redrew his right and brought forward his left arm.
Brask flicked his hand in the air, in a chopping motion.
The soldiers around grabbed Aron by his right hand, ignoring his left which he drew. And bound him so he could not move.
"I knew you would lie if I asked you what hand you wielded your sword with," Brask said.
"No wait!" Aron begged.
They drew their blade and cut his hand clean off.
"Aghhhh!"
He screamed so loud, birds fluttered from the trees around.
His arm fell to floor, blood gushed from it. The fingers twitched as traces of life still sparked in them. Aron fell to his knees, his eyes dizzied by the amount of blood he was losing. The guards picked him up and wrapped the wound with torn pieces of cloth.
"Our little deal won't work, if we let you go unharmed." Brask smirked. "We have an image to live up to here."
Aron clenching his teeth in pain. "It's a good thing I'm left handed," He thought to himself.
Brask starred at Aron with disdain. "Go! And bring me a princess." he exclaimed, dismissing him.
As he rode away, the stump burned with a pain extending to his whole right side. His shadow stretched unnaturally long before him, moving just out of sync with his horse's. Tears rolled down his reddened cheek. "I am no knight."
He was embarrassed. In pain. Without honor. But not defeated.
He clenched his fist, the leather glove almost ripping. "You won't kill me that easily, Victor!"