Chapter Text
one
Stormz is the result of a miscalculation. He’s devoted his life to being the opposite, compensating for a mistake that was made before he was born.
Enter his job: Bounty-hunting. Unconventional for sure; most people opt to become blacksmiths or politicians. Whilst Stormz loves voicing his opinion, the thrill of the hunt offers something special.
He’s been a bounty-hunter since he was 15. He used to do smaller jobs, just hunting for small-time robbers for the local law enforcement. He’s decently good at it too since he’s a convincing liar. Just exchange a handful of pleasantries before breaking their jaw with his daggers and dragging them to jail.
It’s been almost five years since then, and he has gradually gained notoriety. Most recently, he’s travelled to Helios’s capital for more work. Greater population, more criminals to catch.
He’s been doing well, all things considered. Which is why he got a little concerned when he received a letter from the palace, requesting his presence.
As far as he knows, this line of work is legal since he has the law enforcement’s permission. But why else would the King request his presence? The King even signs the letter. His signature is curvy and smooth; the ink does not bleed at all.
Stormz is let into the palace court wearing his best suit; gold accents against an otherwise red blazer. The guards he’s escorted by don’t look to be very old; they seem to be around his age, actually.
“Some words of advice: smile more.” One of them whispers to him as they approach the entrance to the throne room. The guard has dark brown hair with most of their face covered beneath their clanky helmet.
Stormz lets out a deep breath. “Thanks.”
He enters the throne room, pushing open the extravagantly large doors. “Stormz! Do you have a surname, son?” The King greets him almost immediately, sitting atop a golden throne. The intricacies of it are engraved and so small that Stormz can’t see them clearly from down here.
Surnames and family names are reserved for one, people with families–no shit–and two, people of nobility. “No.” Stormz is neither of those.
“That’s alright, come closer.” The King’s voice is calm, as inviting as you’d imagine from his majesty. Stormz allows himself to step closer, head bowed with the utmost respect.
“You are aware of the sinking of the Maritarnia, yes?” The Maritarnia is—was—the second-largest cargo ship of Helios, typically tasked with trade and minerals.
Since Helios is located on flat ground, the resources they tend to lack are rocks and minerals. It’s not easy to mine without any mountains or rocky shores.
This becomes a problem when, let’s say, the minerals that were being transported from a nearby kingdom are jeopardized and knocked to the bottom of the ocean. The kingdom needs these to survive. Tools, vehicles, their entire military all rely on these resources.
“Yes, your majesty,” Stormz remembers the notice papers practically begging for people to help volunteer to dive and retrieve the lost cargo. Sixteen thousand tons of iron, copper, and gold. All sunk to the ocean floor to decompose.
“After a thorough internal and external investigation, the palace has concluded that the attack was from Selene.” Selene isn’t particularly far from the capital. It’s a smaller kingdom, geographically speaking, across a short ferry ride of a strait that leads into the ocean. In contrast to Helios, the majority of it is located on a rocky, snowy mountain atop an island.
Selene and Helios have a… complex history with each other. Once two settlements of the same empire, Selene’s independence from the mainland was fought via war. It’s been years, though, and the two kingdoms already came to a peace agreement via treaty.
So why… is Selene attacking their ships now?
“We have also discovered that there has been a spy on the inside. Royal advisor Underscore has been imprisoned as of yesterday.” It just keeps getting worse, doesn’t it? How could Helios just let this happen? It’s a matter of kingdom security and public safety.
The King stands up and steps off the throne; his long royal mantle drags on the floor as he approaches him. Stormz doesn’t look up in respect. He places the tip of his sceptre on his left shoulder; “You, Stormz, have been tasked with neutralizing the threat.”
What does that mean?
“The person likely commanding such attacks is the heir, Prince Mugm Underscore. You have been tasked with eliminating him.” The King’s voice quiets down as he gives the command.
The kingdom of Selene is closed off; it has these tall stone walls lining the docks. The only thing you can clearly see from the outside is the large castle on the top of the mountain. The people of Selene, as a result, are also very closed off.
Stormz hasn’t ever met the prince. He’s only heard of him from some of his friends. Silva in particular was the son of a nobleman in Selene and used to spend a lot of time with his royal highness.
But from rumours, the prince is calculated. Since being chosen as the next in line for the throne, he has dedicated his entire life to the kingdom. Nothing waits for the prince; the prince waits for nothing.
“You will be equipped with any means necessary, according to your judgement. You have one month. The reward for this hunt will be discussed after the casket is buried and the crows sing.” The King lifts his sceptre before using it to nudge Stormz’s chin up to look at him.
When their eyes meet, the King is smiling, “Do Helios well. You are dismissed.”
Stormz lowers himself to his knees, “Thank you, your majesty.” He quickly exits the throne room.
The plan is simple, suspiciously simple.
“Are you sure?” Stormz has done countless missions before, and what Silva’s telling him to do sounds like the type of spy plan there would be in the theatre. It’s… unrealistically straightforward.
“His royal highness is incredibly paranoid, Stormz. You won’t be able to earn his trust; might as well just go in guns blazing.” Silva continues with helping him create a map of the royal Selene castle. Some of the rooms are unlabelled; Silva cites them as rooms he was never allowed in and has therefore seemingly been wiped from his memory.
Stormz doesn’t trust that the prince is unable to trust. He’s a royal; what merits are there for him to not trust? His life is built upon others. He doesn’t do work for himself. What sort of life would he be leading if he doesn’t allow others to work for him? A damn destitute one. The skills of a prince and those of a beggar on the streets aren’t all that different.
The only difference Stormz can realistically find is the responses to their asks.
“He can’t have zero friends…” Relationships and affection make people human. They set humanity apart from most other animals: without it, people go insane.
His muttering earns more laughter from Silva, “He has acquaintances and people he probably respects from afar, but he—I was lucky, y’know. He sorta let me in because my father swore on his life and title that I would be loyal to the very end.” Silva’s father also happens to be six feet underground, so he did keep the promise.
Stormz should realistically trust Silva’s judgement. Silva’s the one with the information, and he’s a decently good fighter.
He’s only apprehensive because Silva can be… Silva’s sometimes a little single-minded. He’s not that experienced of a leader, nor is he as skilled in creating plans. Hell, Silva’s only doing this because Stormz begged him, as he’s the only one Stormz knows and is comfortable sharing this mission’s details with.
“So I just sneak in and kill him in his sleep?” Stormz isn’t given exactly which tower the prince’s sleeping quarters are located in, but Silva’s remembers it as one out of two. He has a 50/50 chance of getting it right when he actually makes his attempt.
“He’s a heavy sleeper; I remember knocking on his door in the morning to practice, and it’d take him so long to answer,” Silva looks off to the side. It’s not often that Stormz gets him like this, thinking about his past in Selene. Silva escaping the kingdom was a miracle, through someone whom his father knew.
Even if his time in the kingdom was miserable, Stormz can imagine that there has to have been some good that he misses. Whether it be some friends he had to leave behind or a childhood dish that’s best eaten cold.
“I’m sorry,” Stormz, quite honestly, feels kinda bad for what he’s going to do.
Silva’s eyes immediately return to him; “What?”
“I’m sorry for… his royal highness. I—He’s, or he was, your friend. I’m sorry about this mission, Silva,” Does his guilt or empathy or pity change what he’s going to do? No, not at all. He won’t spare Prince Mugm anything, not even his life.
It doesn’t matter that the Prince is merely eighteen and has so much of his life ahead of him. He’s the king in this game of chess and his life in exchange for tens of others’ is a price Stormz is more than willing to pay. Kill the rich, especially if they’re sinking ships.
“It’s… It’s weird because I don’t know if we were ever friends. He was always preoccupied with his royal shit, and I was just… there. Only together because of my father’s promise." Silva finishes off the map, handing it to Stormz.
“There has to be at least one moment where it was real,” Stormz decides. Silva said that they were ‘friends’ for almost the entire time the prince was appointed. Which, from his ascension to Silva’s defection, would have been three to four years.
“Maybe… I don’t remember,” Silva sighs, leaning back in his seat.
Before either of them can change the topic, the door to the meeting room opens; “You guys should probably speak a little quieter,” A tall lady walks in, no older than Silva and Stormz.
Almost immediately, Silva stands up and bows as a show of respect; Stormz follows suit. Silva drags a seat out for her; “What brings you here, Advisor Dolphin?” She seems awfully familiar, despite Stormz not hearing of ‘Dolphin’ before.
“Just curious about how Sir Stormz is approaching his assignment,” Dolphin smiles, taking her seat at their strategy table. The door opens once more; the same guard that spoke to Stormz before prances in. Dolphin greets them: “Hey Nem.”
“Yo, good luck, bud. I mean, Silva’s given you the rundown, right?” Nem places a hand on Silva’s shoulder.
“Does that matter? Mugm’s definitely not going to let up that easily,” Dolphin grins. Stormz is starting to feel like they know more than he does about the prince. They’ve been in the Helios capital longer, and the fact that she called his royal highness by his first name would suggest they’re acquaintances.
“Are you… friends with the prince?” Stormz asks slowly and cautiously; should he have locked the door to this room?
Dolphin throws her head back, laughing at his question: “Yeah bro, definitely.” So she definitely isn’t. She’s probably only referring to him via first name as a sign of disrespect.
Stormz would too; it’s not like Mugm did anything to earn his place in the castle. He was chosen by a deity; no skill or anything involved. Just plain ol’ luck.
“Any words of advice?” Stormz glances at Nem, who had given him the advice before he spoke with the King.
“Don’t hesitate.” He can do that.
As much of a help as Silva is, Stormz still requests the investigation file on the prince. Reading through the file (along with a book on Selene’s royal framework), he believes he has a better grasp on who he’s facing.
Selene’s monarchy does not work the same as Helios’s. Helios chooses their next ruler via bloodline, much like most other kingdoms.
Selene doesn’t.
At the centre of the kingdom is their beloved mother tree, which ‘blesses’ a ruler once every fifty years. Regardless of whether the last ruler is alive or not. The overall ascension ceremony is described very vaguely in the book, with no images to accompany the words.
When he asked Silva about it, Silva said that he can’t recall the ceremony. It’s been six years since then, so much has happened that Silva–regretfully–does not have the best recount of how it went. The only new information he gave is that he remembers the prince falling to his knees from the amount of magic and sorcery the tree was placing on his shoulders.
What Stormz does understand is that Prince Mugm comes from an otherwise similar background to himself. The prince is also the son of a whore, to put it simply. A bastard that had been blessed at the age of twelve.
The prince (allegedly) used to live in a local orphanage, leading a humble but grateful life. The only mysterious part of his childhood seems to be that he was prone to running off in the night, sneaking away to a place he refuses to share. Besides that, the prince’s upbringing is plain.
Stormz places the book aside; he needs to prepare himself for the midnight operation.
The trip to Selene is underwhelming.
Stormz is decked in all black, carrying only the bare essentials as he is driven and dropped at the edge of the coast.
He has to rely on his own core strength to hoist himself up, gripping onto the sides of the coastline boulders like his life depends on it because it does. If he were to fall into the strait, he would wind up dead before the prince does.
Stormz crouches to hide between the field of tall grass and overgrown weeds. The itchiness of the shrubs brushing against the bare skin of his hands motivates him to move faster.
Stormz manages to scale a short wall and enter the village; his destination looms over it even at night. The castle is beautiful even from afar; large, dark stained glass windows reflect the moonlight onto the civilians. Solid black pillars, a large moon insignia at the top of its main tower, (what looks to be) a large garden surrounding the property.
Stormz takes as many back alleys and small roads as he can, avoiding anywhere there could be patrols or—Prophet forbid—a group of mischievous teenagers sneaking out. He passes a fountain that shoots water impressively high.
The trek to the castle is difficult.
Not that it’s a far distance; he could probably run from the village to the castle gates in twenty minutes. No, it’s just that Stormz has to avoid detection. He stops briefly behind a nook in an alleyway to check Silva’s map; the parchment is regretfully loud, but it’s his only shot.
The prince is located in one of two towers; both (thankfully) are not located at the front of the castle. Hopefully Selene has cut corners, and there aren’t as many guards at the back of the castle as there are on the front. Behind the castle are all snowy mountains; nobody lives there. What use would excessive backdoor guards have?
Circling the castle is difficult when it’s located on a mountain. He almost slips and cracks his skull open twice, but he doesn't, which is what really matters.
Stormz realizes the bigger problem once he reaches the back of the castle: there’s a massive, grand wall blocking him from even attempting to scale the tower. He obviously brought tools to climb it, but even standing all the way down here, he can see the uninviting barbed-wire-looking spike defenses lining the top.
Stormz unleashes the skyhook from where he keeps it attached to his belt, tossing it a bit to get a good feel. He’s scaled walls like this before; it shouldn’t be too far of a fall if he does somehow fuck it up. He’s a professional, but there’s always room for mistakes; that’s just a result of being human.
He readies himself and uses a stray, uneven brick edge to push himself up, digging his hook into a nook within the stone. Stormz likes to climb quickly; the longer you rest, the more stamina you need. He is careful with the spikes at the top; he almost accidentally grabs onto them. Surely if he does, it’d result in bleeding at the bare minimum.
Looking down, Stormz now has a good view of the inner court. Dark green grass, well-maintained, with guards only at the main backdoor entrance, it seems.
“Idiots…” Stormz doubts he’s the only one with the skills to climb.
Why would they keep the prince unattended like this?
He has to crouch and keep his balance dangerously as he weaves through the spikes. The way down is easier; he purposefully uses a thick pine tree to cover his body from the line of sight of the guards. He grates his skyhook along the edge of the wall as he slides down, landing on his two feet with as much elegance as he can muster.
Stormz has to take a break behind a hoard of cleanly sheared bushes to check his map, squinting in the dark. It’s a full moon tonight, allowing for more moonlight to shine on Silva’s work. He traces his finger on the parchment and decides to enter the first, closer tower first. It only makes sense.
He rolls up the parchment and stores it away once more, peeking around the bush.
The stupid ass guards don’t even look awake; Stormz rolls his eyes. Two zombie statues stood at either side of the entrance to the royal castle. Is Selene poor and even the royals can’t pay for hard workers, or is the general work ethic of people nonexistent? Silva does tend to lean towards the lazy side….
Stormz uses the opportunity to run and hide around the corner before starting his ascension. Even with the issue of guards out of the way, the climb up to the fifth floor is still treacherous. Luckily, there is a break on the tower with a protruding segment, where Stormz can briefly rest his feet on the roof.
He finishes his short break and continues to climb, reaching one of the windows of the fifth floor, where Silva said the prince would be. Stormz grabs onto the windowsill and hoists his body up. He grunts but freezes when he realizes the window is open… he didn’t even have to shatter the glass, what the fuck?
He brought his tools, fully prepared to shatter glass worth a fortune, only for this bastard to leave his window open at night. “Fuck you,” He mutters as he slips into the bedroom. There are no lights on, and the moonlight shines in through the window, along with a light breeze.
He quietly shuffles to another angle of the bed, as the canopy is blocking his view of the prince–”You could spare to be a bit more polite.”
Stormz almost shits himself, genuinely.
He immediately turns around and draws his daggers out, only to come face to face with a young man and a knife to his throat. If he were to lean forward just an inch, it would definitely penetrate his trachea.
The young man has dark hair, dark skin, and light eyes. A large scar over his right eye. Even though he is wearing what looks to be silk pyjamas with his hair equally dishevelled, Stormz recognizes Prince Mugm instantly.
“Hey bro,” He internally cringes at his opening. He’s talking to royalty, not someone he can consider anywhere close to a friend. What is he doing?
The prince frowns, pressing the tip of the blade close to Stormz; it hurts. “Whoa, whoa, whoa… let’s calm down. I’m chill.” He puts his hands up. Out of everything that could go wrong, this is not how he imagined this night to go.
“Why are you here?” The prince’s voice is hoarse and very deep. Stormz honestly thinks that the prince already knows why he’s here; he just wants an admission of guilt to make the trial easier, Stormz presumes. More guilty than he already is for trespassing and then sneaking into the prince’s bedroom with weapons.
“Would you believe me if I told you?” Stormz smiles as he feels the blade of the knife breach his skin; he almost chokes as he feels the sharp pain penetrate his throat. He doesn’t dare himself to move.
The prince scoffs: “That doesn’t matter; tell me why you’re here.”
“Why were you expecting me, your royal highness?” Stormz does well in interrogations. He’s good at getting information out of others; he doesn’t plan for this to be any different. He’s more than prepared to throw questions right back at the prince.
“Why are you here?”
“Why were you expecting me?”
The prince scowls at his response, attempting to dropkick his legs from beneath him. Stormz barely dodges. Prince Mugm is fast and agile, way more than Stormz would expect of a royal. “Tell me why you’re here.” The prince demands once more, moving his blade to the side to cut a new section of his neck if he doesn’t answer correctly.
“If I tell you, will you tell me why you were expecting someone?” There’s no way the prince doesn’t already know. Perhaps that’s why the guards were so sleezy; they were instructed to be incompetent, so Stormz would walk into this trap overconfident about a kill.
The prince considers it before nodding slowly.
“I’m here to kill you,” Stormz puts it as bluntly as possible, awaiting his own decapitation. It doesn’t come, not now, at least. Instead, the prince looks out the window; “It’s just me–what about you? Why are you expecting an attempt on your life like this?”
Prince Mugm looks to the ground before answering, stifling a breathy laugh: “The mother tree told me to.” Huh, so this guy has magic and fate on his side.
How is Stormz meant to combat a deity? A deity that does not want Prince Mugm Underscore to repent, regardless of his sins.
“So… what’s gonna happen? Unless you’re keen on drinking poison for me, I don’t think this is going how I want it to,” Stormz lets himself grin; perhaps it’ll be the last time he does. He won’t let himself get killed this easily; he just needs the prince to make the first move.
“You’re going to be executed.”
Stormz moves, dodging a stab from the prince. He swipes with his daggers and nearly manages to rip his silk pyjamas. Why hasn’t the prince changed bedrooms? Requested guards in his sleep quarters? Why is he here, by himself, if he anticipated a visitor?
“What’s your name?” The prince questions mid-fight, way too casual. They continue fighting, neither of them landing fatal shots. They’re both too good to get hit. Mugm’s very… aerial. He jumps and slides to avoid getting hit before attacking.
“Stormz.”
It takes Stormz landing a solid swipe on the prince’s shoulder for him to finally throw his knife, straight into Stormz’s stomach.
“Fuck…” He clutches his stomach; he doesn’t dare look down. It doesn’t hurt much because of his adrenaline; if he looks down, the illusion will break, and he’s going to be in super hell.
The prince opens his nightstand for another knife, “Yield.”
It’s either he dies via public execution, or he dies in a rich boy’s bedroom, forever staining the prince’s floorboards with his blood. He either gives up, or he dies with his valour right here, right now. “No,” Stormz continues despite his stomach.
It’s only now that the prince calls for backup: “Guards!” Almost instantaneously, four tall men decked in metal and black enter and restrain Stormz after a short struggle. They take his daggers and his skyhook.
“Are you okay, your royal highness?” One of the guards who isn’t holding onto Stormz kneels by the prince, checking for any wounds. The prince shows him the swipe on the shoulder; Stormz smiles: it better scar.
“I’m fine… take Stormz away.” The prince looks at him with an unveiled disgust, holding onto his shoulder. His red blood is quickly seeping to stain the light silk he’s dressed in.
“Do you have any requests on where, your royal highness?”
As far as Stormz is aware, they only have two prisons that they can hold him in. Either the one by the coast or: “I want him in the dungeon.” The one beneath this very castle. Stormz was hoping he’d get placed in the one by the coast. He tries his best to hide his contempt. It’d make it easier to escape back to Helios to plan. Seems like the prince knows about it.
“Do you want it exterminated tonight?” How degrading. Stormz allows himself to frown at the word choice. How is Selene this fast to execution? Are they this cold-hearted? Helios isn’t this cruel, even towards enemies.
“I want him alive to see tomorrow morning, and possibly the day after that. I want to speak to Stormz under… more ideal circumstances.” He can work with that.