Oath of the King-Chapter 20: The Pride of Lionfelt - Part 1

Alden stood at the front of the gate of the Lionfelt household. He moved down the hill and joined the line of merchants and peasants. As the line slowly advanced, he noticed a large area filled with tents—refugees. A surge of disgust hit him as he saw their malnourished, thin figures.

He kept waiting as the line crawled forward.

"Oh, finally, it's my turn."

He stepped toward the gate, but the guard swiftly placed a lance between him and the entrance, glaring coldly.

"Where are you going, kid?"

Alden looked confused but answered, "Inside. Where else?"

"Give us your identification scroll."

Alden was surprised. In his past life, this hadn't been a requirement. Still, he complied.

Identification Scroll

Name: Alden Lionfelt

Date of Birth: October 22, 1507

Age: 18

House: House Lionfelt

Status: Common born Noble, Heir Without Title

Notable Mark: Silver pendant shaped like a lion's claw

Signature: ✒️ Alden L.

The guard's eyes lingered on the scroll with disgust before calling for backup.

"Arrest him."

Alden's hand instinctively went to his sword, but after a moment's thought, he let it fall. They cuffed him and marched him to the dungeon.

"Next in line, please."

A man in a cloak, accompanied by another cloaked figure of gigantic stature, and two slender women with masks, approached.

"Identification scroll, please."

Identification Scroll

Name: Leonhardt Horvath

Date of Birth: March 8, 1509

Age: 16

Status: Commoner

Occupation: Apprentice to Master Thalion, Royal Healer

Distinguishing Mark: Simple wooden pendant with a carved herb motif

Known For: Skilled in herbal remedies and swift in tending wounds

Signature: ✒️ Leonhardt H.

The guard's demeanor shifted instantly. "Oh, my apologies, Master Leonhardt. You and your crew are welcome in our territory." He bowed.

"No worries," Leonhardt replied, "but I'll require someone to guide us to our quarters."

"Of course, follow me," the guard said, leading the way as another took his place.

Back in the dungeon, Alden whistled an upbeat tune. Then, a woman appeared—the first wife of the patriarch.

Lady Eveline wore a rich blue velvet gown, embroidered with golden vines and lion motifs. Her long sleeves were decorated with delicate floral embroidery at the wrists. A deep green cloak with fox fur trim draped over her shoulders, fastened by a silver brooch shaped like a lion's paw.

A polished bronze circlet, set with sapphires, rested atop her head, and a lace veil fell behind her. She wore a sapphire pendant and a signet ring of House Lionfelt. Her leather shoes were embroidered with golden lions.

"I didn't think I would see you again," Lady Eveline said with grace.

"Hello, Miss Eveline. You don't know how much I missed hearing your disgusting voice."

A guard scowled, "Why you—" He grabbed a metal rod and struck Alden in the face.

Alden glared. "Try that again, but I warn you—you won't live long enough to make a second hit."

The guard swung for another strike, but Alden's arm vibrated, and a voice rang out through the room. "Stop!"

Lady Eveline approached Alden, meeting his gaze. "What made you come back here after all these years?"

"I came back to regain my rightful throne."

Lady Eveline burst into hysterical laughter. "Oh, you make me laugh. It's impressive that a runt like you still thinks he deserves anything."

"Let me remind you of something: you deserve nothing. The only way for you to achieve anything is through the pity of others."

"But if you want, I will allow you to work as my son's squire. Even a runt like you can do that much."

Alden laughed, loud and mocking. "Hahaha... It's been long since I had such a good laugh. No way I'd follow that crooked path."

Lady Eveline gave him a disgusted look. "Kill him. The patriarch doesn't need to know he was ever here."

The guard grinned, lance raised, and charged at Alden. In an instant, Alden snapped his chains and slammed his fist into the guard's chest, the sickening crunch of ribs breaking echoing through the dungeon. The guard staggered back, gasping for air, but Alden grabbed his arm, twisted it, and threw him to the floor.

Before he could catch his breath, two more guards rushed in, swords drawn. Alden's eyes narrowed. He wasn't killing, but he wasn't backing down either.

One guard lunged at him. Alden ducked, jabbed an elbow into his gut, and followed with a knee to the ribs. The guard fell, gasping for breath.

The second guard charged. Alden sidestepped, twisted his arm behind his back, and slammed him to the floor. The guard's head hit the stone with a thud, knocking him out cold.

Alden stood over the unconscious guards, breathing hard. The sound of footsteps broke the silence. From the shadows, a Holy Knight stepped forward, observing him with intense focus.

The Holy Knight said nothing but studied Alden's every move. Alden wiped blood from his brow, his body sore, but his determination unshaken. He wasn't done.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

After a long pause, the Holy Knight spoke to someone unseen.

"He's dangerous," he murmured. "But he holds back. He doesn't kill when he could. He fights with purpose, but there's something more."

A second figure responded, "He's not just fighting for survival. He's fighting to prove something."

The Holy Knight nodded. "He's different. Unpredictable."

Alden barely heard them. His focus was on the guards still lying on the floor. This wasn't over, not yet. But he wasn't here to kill. He was here to reclaim what was his.

He turned and walked toward the room where his master's gift awaited—the sword.

He kept fighting for hours, treated like a criminal, until finally,

Alden's chest heaved as he moved through the silent hall, past the empty cells, his heart pounding—not from exhaustion, but anticipation. He reached the patriarch's office door, battered hands gripping the handle. With a violent shove, the door splintered, crashing open.

"Hello, Father."