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The Man in the Gray Cloak

“Princess? Princess Amelia! Oh, where is that girl? Princess!”

Amelia sighed at the sound of the maid shouting for her. This was the first chance in weeks she had to herself in a long time, and she had only just sat down at the foot of the lone tree in the castle courtyard to read her book when the panicked cries had begun. Her maidservant worried over her way too much for not being Amelia’s nanny. Not anymore, anyway.

“Princess! Hello? Where are- THERE you are!”

The pudgy woman barrelled down the stairs from the castle doors to the tree. She tripped on the hem of the baggy, dull red and orange maid's robe she wore, causing her to stumble down the flight of steps to the courtyard. Her black hair bounced in its small bun at the back of her head as she halted, wheezing for breath. She had been a maid at Naryn Keep for many years before Amelia was born, and no longer had the energy to run through the entire castle. This didn’t stop her from doing so anyway.

“M’Lady, you know your mother does not want you wandering around the castle grounds! You nearly gave her a heart attack! Certainly almost had one myself on her behalf!”

Amelia brushed a lock of her brown hair behind her ear as she closed her book and stood back up, brushing a little dirt from her warm orange sundress. The emblazoned crest of the Kingdom of Naryn, a golden crown set above a blazing fire of oranges and reds, shimmered in the sunlight over her left breast.

“I have been stuck inside for ages, Elizabeth,” Amelia said, stretching. “I needed to get some fresh air and sunlight. Besides, there are guards all over the castle grounds. Nothing can get to me here. I am still well within the castle walls.” She gestured to the castle gates, still a more-than-safe distance away from the front of the castle.

“No ma’am!” Elizabeth exclaimed, waddling between Amelia and the gate as she threw her arms flapping out to each side. “You can’t be saying things like that. I can’t have you wandering away! One moment you’re safely within Narynian grounds, next, you are in the grasp of the Guild!”

“I am nineteen, Elizabeth, not four.”

“I know, M’lady, but now, since the Guild is-”

“You know very well that the Guild hasn’t attacked for several years. If they were going to attack, they would’ve done so by now. Now, if you excuse me, I’d like to get back to Simeon Florez.” Amelia waved the book she was trying to read at Elizabeth to punctuate her point. “The Secret of the Fifth Crown is the last book, and I haven’t had any time to read so much as a single page out of it.”

“There’s been talk, your Highness, amongst the guards.”

“Is it talk about secret nations and sacred knights? What about an ancient prophecy about two swords, locked in eternal combat? You know, not real life?”

“Princess, this is serious! Some are saying the Guild is building in numbers. They might come and finish what they started ten years ago.”

The sarcastic grin that had been building fell away from Amelia’s face. “They did not start anything,” she said, turning away from Elizabeth. She clutched the book to her chest, gripping it tightly as she attempted to calm her breathing.

“Oh, my dear!” Elizabeth clasped her hands over her mouth. “I’m so sorry, M’lady. I didn’t mean to-”

“No… I’m fine.”

Indeed, it had been ten years since Guild had last attacked. And yet, she couldn’t push the memory out of her mind. No child should have to witness what she had gone through that day.

“M’lady-”

“I said I am fine.”

A short moment of silence passed between them as Amelia collected herself. Her tears were not for the world to see. After this, Amelia sighed in resignation and turned back to Elizabeth.

“Alright, let’s go in before Mother gets too worried.”

“Too late for that- I mean, the Queen is at her wit’s end! She doesn’t want anything-”

What the maid was going to say was lost. A platoon of thirty knights came running from within the castle to surround the princess, weapons were drawn, faces fixed on the gates.

“Stay on your guard, men!” a forceful voice bellowed from behind. Closely following the call was a tall and sturdy man, his black beard glistening in the daylight. Nestled on his shaven head was the ruby crown of the nation he loved dearly, a nation he led proudly. This was King Ezekiel III, the King of Naryn.

“Father, what’s happening?” Amelia asked.

“A man has been apprehended from the city.”

“One man?” Amelia asked, confused by the concern. “This seems extreme for one man.”

The king looked at his daughter, his eyes wide in a way Amelia had never seen when he spoke of the Guild. “He’s no ordinary man.”

“What do you mean?”

The king placed his hands at his sides, the fingers of his right dancing on the hilt of his sword. “If the reports are to be believed, he has infiltrated Guild-controlled land and came out unscathed and with followers clothed in the bloodied armor of the Guild's warriors. He has defeated massive divisions of the fiercest mercenaries money could afford. By himself, no less.”

“It sounds like he’s against the Guild, not us.”

“Aye, that’s what the stories would have you think, but from the word coming from Aslodora, I don’t think he’s anyone's ally.”

“What word comes from Aslodora?”

“Get inside, Amelia. This man is more dangerous than anything the Guild-”

The king was cut off by a guard shouting from the parapets of the castle wall.

“Who goes there?”

“Dawnlight patrol squad twelve with the prisoner in hand,” a voice replied with urgency.

“Is he detained?”

“Affirmative.”

The king demanded that the gates be opened. The gears that controlled the giant iron doors whirred to life, slowly lurching outwards revealing the guards on the outside: a company of twelve men, swords clutched in their right hands. At their center was something that Amelia rarely saw used: a large glowing orange orb. Any person held within one was suspended in midair while the guards took the orb where they needed to be. If the prisoner tried to break out of the orb, the surface would give them an intense shock, dissuading a second attempt.

If the guard had to deploy this measure to capture this man, it was a testament to the dangers he was capable of.

The king approached, looking at what floated within the orb. A man of average build, wearing a long gray cloak that covered much of his figure. The only things left visible were the bottom of his face, from just under his nose, and his hands. In his left hand was an old walking stick: tall, straight, smooth, and worn from years of use, no doubt.

The man looked at the king, despite the hood covering his eyes.

“Ah, King Ezekiel III of Naryn,” the man said, his voice slightly muffled by the orb. “It is an honor to be brought before you today.”

The figure bowed with his head and arms as a sign of respect, but in a grand enough fashion to make one question if it were feigned.

“May the fires of your rule burn forevermore.”

The praise he spoke was befitting when addressing a king, but his tone was loose and playful, almost as if he were speaking to an old friend.

“What business do you have in the Kingdom of Fire, wanderer?”

The man smiled. “I have no agenda other than my own, and surely not one that would tamper with your affairs. In fact, I had no intention of entering the castle gates until your loyal men nearly subdued me.”

Nearly? He is contained within the orb, isn’t he?

As soon as the thought crossed Amelia’s mind, it became obvious that he wasn't.

The orb that the man was held within was not designed to open from the inside. The only way to deactivate it was for a member of the guard to input a code into the side of it. This fact did not stop the orb from shattering outward, hitting all twelve of the guards near it. Most of them were merely shocked, but four of them had been paralyzed from the impact.

In an adrenaline-fueled panic, each of the men quickly unsheathed their melee weapons of choice: long rapiers of stout, firm metal. With a press of a button on the hilt, the energy crystals within the swords whirred to life, setting the swords ablaze with intense flames that flickered off each man’s form.

The hooded stranger seemed unfazed at this turn of events. If anything the grin plastered on his face grew wider. “Ah, the cherished Elikri blades of Naryn. I’ve been yearning to see these in action again for years!”

The figure planted his feet a shoulder’s width apart and crouched slightly, shifting most of his weight forward into his left foot. He then lifted the walking stick in both hands, extending his left hand toward the guard while keeping his right hand back.

“Don’t disappoint me.”

The Narynian soldiers had trained for years on end to be able to allow several individuals to move as a single unit, moving as one mind and soul. Yet this man showed no indication of standing down. A firm tree before a blazing inferno.

The soldiers attacked the hooded man with a flurry of blade falls with absolute precision. The soldiers knew how to time their attacks, so no two swords would land at once. A constant stream of strikes and stabs fell upon the man.

However, the man in the gray cloak maneuvered with an elegance of his own, adding his steps to this dance with death. Each blow was parried with godlike precision, regardless of where the strikes came from. It was as if he was able to sense where each man would strike, as he almost beat the guards to where they would send their Elikri. Each blade fall met the staff with a loud clang and a shower of sparks, feeding into the already emblazoned swords. The man’s staff could not have been made of wood, as it appeared to be at a glance. Otherwise, it would have burst into flames from hitting the Elikri.

Amelia saw the widening eyes of the guards. They could not beat him. They could not even deter him. But the steadfast will of the Kingdom of Fire forced them to keep up the attack with all they had.

The man must have known that the guards were not able to beat him, as he no longer tried to defend himself. While he may have instigated the guards into beginning this waltz, he was now wrenching the lead back for himself. The man found openings the guards didn’t know existed and struck. The guards stumbled at the blows, thrust back with increasing force. They were landing further and further away from the epicenter that was the man.

The purpose of this staff was more evident now. It was never a simple walking stick. Nor was it designed as a defensive tool. It was meant to be used offensively. The staff could lay blows as easily as it could block them, effectively landing where the man aimed. It was clearly no burden to maneuver for him. The larger size gave it an advantage of sheer momentum to rocket through the thin blades with ease.

Amelia began to feel uneasy. Never before had anyone lasted so long when confronting a regiment of this number. This mysterious hooded man was able to block, parry, and return everything that was dealt towards him, causing each of the men to quake at the knees from the force.

Then the man did something no one in Naryn could have been prepared for. In one sweeping movement, he lifted over his head the staff while it spun aggressively, threw every surrounding member of the guard off of their balance, then drove the staff into the ground. The impact created a bright iridescent light that radiated away from the man. The guards were thrown back, hitting everything in the courtyard, from the ground to the walls to the tree, and slumped toward the ground, their blades extinguished as they fell from their masters’ hands.

Amelia’s eyes were wide with horror. None of the guards were moving, and the force she had felt had almost knocked her off her feet. This man had powers she had only ever read about.

But this was no storybook character.

The man stood up from his kneeling position, pulling the staff out of the ground. Amazingly, there were no signs of there having ever been an impact in that spot. Not so much as a blade of grass had been crumpled by the weight of the walking stick.

“Your Highness, you may search each one of these men and find not one is dead. They did put up a valiant fight. I must say, I’m impressed. Most of my foes don’t last nearly as long as your men did. You’ve had them trained well.”

King Ezekiel stood dumbfounded. Amelia knew what was going through his mind. This man was powerful. The king knew his greatest strengths were in allies, and Amelia knew her father well enough to know what he was going to do when he came to his senses.

Shaking himself, the king touched a button on a bracer he wore strapped to his left forearm. A team of castle medics came out and began to round up the unconscious soldiers. As they were carefully moved to the clinic for proper care, the king walked over to the man.

“What kind of man are you? Are you a demon in the guise of man or a man with abnormal abilities on his own?”

“How I have acquired my skills are of my own concern, Sire.”

“I see. Are there more of you?”

“Perhaps, but I came to fulfill my agenda, not promote it. I had not planned on coming to the castle at all until your soldiers made me an offer I could not refuse.”

“And why is that?”

“My matters are not that of royalty. Not of Narynian royalty, anyway, to the best of my knowledge.”

Amelia stepped behind her father, nearly tripping over Elizabeth, who had fainted during the fight. Medics came over and retrieved her soon after.

“Have you a name, traveler?” the king asked.

“I have.”

The two of them stared at each other for a moment in dead silence.

“...Well?”

“Yes?”

“Your name!”

“What about it?”

“You do have one?”

“That is true.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Are you stupid or by some other means mentally afflicted?”

“I honestly believe the answer to that is no, though I could be wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been asked that.”

“HAVE YOU SOME NAME OR TITLE BY WHICH WE MAY ADDRESS YOU?”

“I have both.”

“WHY HAVE YOU NOT TOLD ME?”

“Simple, your Majesty. You have neglected to ask.”

Amelia couldn’t help a small laugh. The king, however, was not amused. “Now see here, knave. Naryn hosts one of the largest armies on the whole planet. I could have you imprisoned and punished for your actions.”

The hooded man leaned on his walking stick and casually glanced around at the teams of medics carrying the last of the guards inside. A few had started to sit up, but could not sit too tall before slumping back down in pain.

“Are you so certain of your men’s abilities?” the man asked.

The king held his face stern for a moment before relaxing his face in defeat with a sigh. “State your name before I go insane.”

The hooded man quickly smirked at his antics. Amelia now began to feel drawn to the man, rather than repulsed. This man was able to play with emotions, or so it seemed to the princess.

“As you wish, your Highness. My true name I cannot reveal to you, Sire. Such information at your disposal would be unwise, both for myself and yourself. Trusted as you may be to your people, my name may lead you to ruin and disaster.”

The king let out a gruff scoff at this. “Disaster? The Guild has never been so active! I continuously build up my forces to defend my nation only for the Guild to knock them down as if they were mere paper! Demands to stop resisting come every other day. How might anything be more of a disaster?”

“I assume you are not a fan of literal hellfire falling from the sky as you watch every single citizen of your nation slain before your eyes one by one?”

The king fell silent.

“As for what you may call me, I am Loquitur Lingua Ignis. You may refer to me as Loquitur or simply Walker. Does that satisfy your desire, my Liege?”

“...Slightly...”

“Good. Now, as my agenda has been altered, I have to make a request.”

“What is it?”

“Is there a place where I may make camp? It need only be for a short time until I can verify what I have come for. Then, I shall leave you in the peace of mind knowing that we may never cross paths again.”

King Ezekiel stared at the man in confusion. “What kind of lodging do you have in mind?”

“I feel much more comfortable outdoors.” Placing his right hand closed over his heart with a bow, he addressed the king. This time, he held no air of sarcasm about him. “I wished to come in the name of friendship if I had come at all, my Lord. I understand the concerns relating to the princess as well. Your daughter is precious to you, and all dangers to her must be removed. I shall make my way to the woods I passed with my escort.”

As Loquitur turned to leave, the king attempted to halt him by taking a hold of the hood of his cloak. In an instant, Loquitur had spun around, staff poised mere hair widths from the king’s throat.

“Sire,” he said with a newfound harshness, “if I’m going to be your ally, allow me to convey one very important rule for you. Never touch my garment. Understood?”

Before Ezekiel could gather his words, Loquitur turned once more and headed out of the still open gates, passing under the wide-eyed gaze of the few conscious guards, all pondering who this man thought he was to threaten the King Ezekiel of Naryn, one of the four Kings of Pacem Aeternam.

(Chapter One of "The Walker: Legend of the Oracles Book One: The Kingdom of Fire)

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