Chapter 5 A Blade's Trials

CHAPTER 5

Xanthos's eyes slowly fluttered open, his mind foggy and disoriented. He was met with the uncomfortable sensation of being suspended in mid-air, his wrists and ankles bound by cold, unforgiving metal. He tried to struggle, to break free from the chains that held him captive, but it was no use. The metal was too strong, the bonds too secure.

A voice, low and sarcastic, spoke from the corner of the room, "Oh, impressive. I've never seen anyone try so hard to escape. You're a regular hero."

Xanthos's head whipped around, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the figure sitting in a chair, whittling a dagger with a look of bored nonchalance. It was Grekh, the commander-in-chief of Emperor Alyaz's army. Grekh's reputation was well-known: ruthless, cunning, and merciless.

Grekh looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face as he stood up, his eyes glinting with amusement. He walked over to Xanthos, his boots echoing off the cold stone walls. "You're not going anywhere," Grekh said, his voice dripping with malice. "You're a prisoner of the Empire, and you'll be staying here for a very long time."

Xanthos's silence only seemed to amuse Grekh, who scoffed and turned back to face him. "The Gifted are notoriously hard to kill," Grekh said, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. "So, I have to ask, how did you manage to gut two of them?"

Xanthos's expression twisted in disgust, and he spat on the floor, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "They were fools," he snarled, his eyes blazing with defiance. "And when I get out of these chains, I'll kill you, Grekh. You can count on it."

Grekh's reaction was immediate and unsettling. He burst out laughing, the sound cold and mirthless. He walked back to his chair, still chuckling, and sat down, his eyes never leaving Xanthos's face. As he composed himself, his expression smoothed out into a blank, unreadable mask, and he simply observed Xanthos, waiting for... something.

Grekh's amused tone was like a slap in the face to Xanthos, who seethed with rage. "I like you, Xanthos," Grekh said, his smile growing wider. "So, you won't be dying. At least, not yet."

Xanthos's eyes blazed with fury as Grekh continued, "I think you'd make a wonderful Imperial Blade for the Emperor. What do you say, Xanthos? Will you join us?"

Xanthos's response was immediate and vehement. "I'd rather die than work for the Emperor," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt.

Grekh's expression morphed into absolute fury, his face reddening with rage. "I wasn't asking," he muttered, his voice low and menacing. He raised his voice, shouting, "Bring them in!"

The door to the room burst open, and Elara, Xanthos's youngest sister, stepped inside, clad in the iconic armor of the First File. The armor was a masterpiece of Imperial craftsmanship, with intricate engravings and etchings that seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the room. The armor itself was a dark, burnished Silver, adorned with the emblem of the First File on the chest plate. Elara's helmet was tucked under her arm, revealing her pale, determined face.

Behind her, she dragged a thoroughly beaten Archivist Orion, his robes torn and tattered, his face bruised and swollen. Orion's eyes were downcast, his shoulders slumped in defeat, as Elara tossed him to the floor like a rag doll. Grekh's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he gazed at the broken archivist.

Elara's grip on Archivist Orion's hair was cruel, her fingers tangled in his thinning locks as she wrenched him to his knees. Her eyes locked onto Xanthos', a cold, calculating glint in their depths. She pressed the blade to the archivist's neck, the metal glinting in the dim light of the room.

Grekh's voice cut through the tension, his tone dripping with anticipation. "Hold on, Elara." He turned his attention back to Xanthos, his eyes scanning his face for any sign of reaction.

But Xanthos's expression was a mask of calm, his features smoothed out into a blank slate. The initial shock of seeing his sister, Elara, as a pawn in Grekh's game had worn off, replaced by a cold, hard determination. Xanthos's eyes never left Elara's face, his gaze boring into hers as if trying to reach the sister he once knew.

Grekh's smile was a cold, mirthless thing, and it seemed to grow even wider as he moved with a speed that was almost supernatural. In a blur of motion, the Archivist's head was severed from his body, the sound of the blade slicing through the air echoing through the room.

Xanthos hadn't even seen Grekh draw his blade, and he felt a shiver run down his spine as he realized just how deadly the commander was. Elara stood like a statue, her armor splattered with her uncle's blood, her expression unyielding.

Grekh sheathed his blade, his smile still plastered on his face. "So, Xanthos," he said, his voice dripping with anticipation. "I ask you again: will you join us as an Imperial Blade?"

Xanthos hesitated, his mind racing with the implications of his decision. He didn't want to serve the Empire, but dying was a less pleasant option. And who knows? Maybe he would actually have the chance to kill the Emperor one day. The thought sent a spark of determination through him, and he nodded reluctantly.

Grekh motioned to Elara, who stepped forward to loosen Xanthos's bonds. As she did, Grekh spoke up, his voice cold and detached. "Elara, take care of your brother. Prepare him for his first trial as an Imperial Blade."

As Elara finished loosening his bonds, Xanthos's gaze locked onto Grekh, his eyes blazing with intense hatred and disdain. He wanted nothing more than to launch himself at the commander, to wrap his hands around Grekh's throat and squeeze the life out of him. But he had seen the way Grekh had killed his uncle, with a speed and deadliness that was almost supernatural. Xanthos knew that, despite his own prowess in battle, Grekh would be able to take him down in seconds.

So, Xanthos bit back his anger, forcing himself to wait. He would bide his time, gathering his strength and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And when that moment came, Grekh would taste the edge of his blade.

As if sensing Xanthos's thoughts, Grekh turned back to him, a villainous chuckle spreading across his face. "And, Xanthos," he said, his voice dripping with malice, "I'll be looking forward to facing you for your First Trial as an Imperial Blade."

Without waiting for a response, Grekh turned and walked out of the chamber, leaving Xanthos to seethe with anger and anticipation. The game had begun, and Xanthos was ready to play.