There was blood, carnage, sweat, dead bodies to the left and right, chaos. Then there was prince Martin ( heir to the throne); all in the middle of the battle of the deadbeats was in its day three. Somehow an ultimately unskilled, untrained, inexperienced prince was still alive, contrary to what his uncle would have thought or expected when he sent the young prince to battle. Still, it seemed luck was running out for the young prince as a mercenary marched towards him and swung his blade at the young prince; a few seconds after, prince Martin was opening his eyes to see how or where he was hit, only to see another blade preventing such action. The defender fully covered from head to toe in a quick spin using another hand with a shorter blade cut’s the mercenary bringing him to his knees and then with a swing from the other blade sends his head rolling.

” thank you, thank you”, the prince saying and trying to grasp the situation of things before his whole world goes black.

The King had come down with a disease sure to take his life, and his brother Modark, Martin’s uncle, was looking to quicken his own rule. Modark sent Martin to his waterloo, all in the pretence of training the naive young prince expecting the boy to die, so he can be next in line once his brother’s one and only heir to the throne has been wiped out.

Prince Martin was gaining consciousness after the blackout; the first sight he saw was a beautiful young lady bathing in the stream up ahead, not knowing where he was and what was going on.

He acted like he hadn’t regained consciousness well enough till the young lady came out of the stream trying to find something more to cover up. Prince Martin saw this as the perfect time to strike, holding her by the neck from behind and pointing a blade to her neck

” Who are you? , where am I?”

“Dead”, her reply

“De… what!!” A few seconds of his lack of concentration was all she needed to turn the tables around

” Hey, hey, calm now. I wasn’t going to kill you, I”

” Neither am I” she draws the blade back, Martin on seeing this, starts to believe she’s not an enemy

” wait, you are him? .. I mean her… I mean.. he is a she”, the prince focused on her amour clothes he had already seen at the battle. She walks away without saying a word.

The men at the battle trooped home as Modark waited for the good news

“He is dead” Modark’s joy couldn’t be contained hearing those words from his general.

” so tell me out of curiosity, what did you mean by ‘ dead’ ” prince Martin munching on a roasted animal, asked

” yes, to the world out there and your uncle.”

” my uncle? My uncle wouldn’t be happy hearing such words.”

” naive… she said”

” who said?” Martin curious to know

” your mother.”

” my MOTHER!!  you know my mother?, it would seem you know a lot about me, and sadly I know nothing about you.”

Photo Credit: Reliks.com

” I am Micela. I come from the Arab lands where your mother grew up, and I am in debt to your mother after she saved my life years ago, and now I have faked your death so your uncle Modark can focus on other things apart from you. your uncle wants you died because you stand in his way, and you can barely challenge him now, so your fake death gives us time to prepare you to take back your throne because you wouldn’t last an hour if you came up against your uncle in this state.”

” So what’s? in it for you?”

” once you are ready… my debt to your mother is paid”. 

WRITTEN BY

BELUSSCONI