The Lord of Servants 1

[The Struggle]

Axyvur, the once peaceful kingdom where everyone lived together in harmony under King Nezar II's reign. The peace, sadly, didn't stay for long. After the series of attacks from the empire and the forced treaty, Axyvur became somewhat chaotic. Many men turned into rogues, mercenaries began raiding smaller towns for coins, and knights turned rebels because the kingdom had to cut their living privileges.

The main problem didn’t come from the outside; it came from the inside. The nobles, the higher-ups who had the duty and responsibility of keeping Axyvur in order, began oppressing commoners using the empire as an excuse.

The commons had reported the misbehavior and begged for the king himself to take action. However, the nobles blinded him. The King, being too trusting to the nobles without knowing their corrupt actions, dismissed and blamed those to common instead.

The commons soon lost their trust in the nobles, but what could they do? Fight back? The commons had to remain silent, fearing, and prioritizing the safety of their families.

Southern Axyvur was no exception. The nobles forced the common-born men to work, exhausting them beyond their limit while paying them lesser than royal prostitutes and harems those nobles used for one night. Many commons had to decide: Either they died of starvation or accused of treachery by those filthy nobles and their sordid tongues who only cared about them for their coins.

***

During an evening in a small wooden house, in a tiny dining room. A family comprising a father, a mother, and a son was having supper.

The father was a 6.0 feet tall semi-muscular man in his mid-40s having sand tone skin, brown eyes, a pointed nose, and short spiky black hair with a stubble beard. He wore a white peasant tunic.

The mother was a 5.57 feet tall slim woman in her mid-40s having pale ivory skin, medium dark-brown wavy hair, black eyes, and a pointed nose. She wore a white peasant kirtle.

The son was a 17-years-old with a 6.1 feet tall sturdy boy. He had rose-beige skin, dark-blue eyes, a Grecian nose, and short shaggy dark-brown hair. He wore a light-brown peasant tunic.

The son is our protagonist, Vixon Wildrow. Vixon was a stoic, strong, righteous, just, and peace-loving person. He detested corruption, especially from the nobles because of what they had been doing to the commons.

Vixon's grandparents from his mothers’ suffered a very tragic fate. His grandfather died defending Axyvur as an unnamed soldier. The nobles instead turned a blind eye to his grandfather's sacrifice instead of honoring his merits. His grandmother also soon died in the hands of a filthy, lecherous noble for his twisted pleasure. Vixon's mother was about to suffer the same fate, but thankfully, Vixon's father intervened.

In the dining room, while his parents were having dinner, Vixon just stared at his food with his mind uneasy.

“Why did the guards collect the tax again today?” Vixon asked. “We had paid them enough yesterday, so why did they come?!”

“Vixon!” his mother said, startled. “We don't talk about that here, during the dinner—!”

“I-It's fine, my dear,” his father said with a soft tone. “I think Vixon should know too.” The father looked at Vixon with his eyes saddened. “Sigh… They said that he, the emperor, demands Axyvur double treaty, meaning that we have to pay double taxes for—”

“Nonsense!” Vixon slammed his right fist to the wall hard, startling his parents. “The empire never said that… It was those damned nobles' vile and greedy tongues… Those damned pigs paid us less and now they demand doubled taxes?! What the hell were they thinking?!”

“Vixon—!” his mother was startled.

“We worked hard for their sake, and this is how they treat us?!” Vixon complained as he punched the wall. “We are no goddamn cattle; we’re humans! We dirtied our hands, risking our very lives to gain coins while they just sit and watch us struggle to death?!”

His mother stood and hugged Vixon, placing his head on her chest. Her soft, soothing voice and the warm, loving hug washed away the irritation and anger in Vixon’s heart.

“It's okay, dear. It's okay. Please calm yourself,” his mother. “Now, enjoy your meal for tonight, okay?”

Vixon sighed; his heart was relieved as he hugged her back tightly.

“Forgive me, mother, father. I lost myself.”

“It’s fine. Now, you have to eat, okay?” her mother said as she sincerely smiled with her eyes closed.

“Yes…”

Vixon sat down, and the family continued their supper.

“Thank you…” Vixon muttered after he finished his supper.

“Vixon?” His mother looked at him. “What is it?”

“Thank you for cooking us the meal…”

Vixon’s mother caressed her son’s hand.

“I’ll do what I could for this family,” she said, comforting. “Don’t worry, okay?”

“Okay…”

Vixon stood and went to his room to get some rest for his mind and body while the parents still sat in the dining room, talking.

“Vixon is right, Sonia. He is right.” the father said with a sad tone. “But sadly, we commoners couldn't do anything. The nobles blinded the king… They have been manipulating every evidence against the nobles.”

“At least we are still together, Viktor. We are still together as a family.” Sonia smiled as she held her husband’s hand. “I believe God will help us during hard times like this.”

“Amen.”

Inside his room, Vixon was lying down on his wooden bed and straw mattress.

“I hope I can do anything. If not for the commoners, at least for my parents!” Vixon thought in desperation, as he knew how powerless he was. “But willpower itself is but a naught…! I need strength to take them down!”

Vixon stood, leaving his room. He was going for the door, wanting to go outside. His parents were still sitting and saw their son leaving.

“Where are you going, dear?” his mother asked, anxious as she stood next to him.

“I want to get some fresh air to calm this troubled mind of mine,” he replied.

When Vixon’s heart became uneasy, he would take a walk around the south to calm his mind and soul, but the moment he returned, he would always come home with wounds on his body.

The night street was dangerous, not because of thieves, but the patrol guards. The patrol guards were notorious for their misbehaviors to the people there. Her mother knew that; she was hesitant to let Vixon go, but nonetheless, she allowed him.

“Okay, but don't cause any trouble,” she said as she smiled. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Then, have a safe walk out there. Remember: if anything bad happens, call God for help.”

Vixon left the house onto the relatively empty night street filled by thieves, prostitutes, drunkards, or pigs known as ‘patrol guards.”

Vixon was walking alone down the street, minding his own business. He stopped near a pond and admired the night sky. From there, he could see the Axyvur Great Castle stood mighty and beautiful, basked in the enchanting moonlight.

“I want to take the throne,” he thought as he lifted his right arm, trying to grasp the kingdom and the moon it covered. “I want to be a king and create a kingdom devoid of pain and sadness where darkness shall never prevail while the light of eternal glory and justice shine. No more discrimination… No more corruption… No more injustice…!”

He looked at the pond reflecting the moon and reached his fingers for the water's surface.

“But who am I to think about that?” He touched the castle’s reflection on the still water and tried to reach his hand for the castle from afar. Like the earth and the sky, he realized how impossible his dream was. “I’m but a miserable piece; an aspiration without a body.”

Vixon sighed as he walked back, returning to his home.

On his way, he saw three patrol guards joyfully beating a scantily clad woman in her mid-20s. She was a 5.6 feet tall woman with pale ivory skin. She had black medium wavy hair without bangs, a pointed nose, and black eyes. She wore make-up like a prostitute, meaning that she was one.

The woman, with a bloodied and beaten face, saw Vixon. Her eyes were begging for mercy from the bystanders, but all the bystanders just looked away, ignoring her as they didn’t want to get involved.

Vixon saw the woman directly in her pitiful, crying, and begging eyes, but Vixon clenched his teeth as he had to play stupid and looked away.

“She’s but a nobody,” he thought. “Forgive me for this.”

As soon as Vixon took another step, a thought crossed into his mind. He remembered when her mother told Vixon what happened to his late grandmother. That time, everyone just ignored her. He imagined what if her mother was in the same state as that prostitute now; being beaten and assaulted by the guards for their perverse pleasure.

Vixon couldn’t cast those thoughts aside; he stopped and turned back, approaching the guards. Vixon pulled those guards with force, dropping three of them down.

“What in goddamn mind are you all doing?!” Vixon said aloud. “You are all supposed to be protecting us, not the opposite!”

Those guards stood and tried to punch Vixon, but Vixon dodged and counterattacked with a punch.

“Damn this lad!” the left guard thought. “He's relatively good for a common-born!!”

“Listen here, lad! We're working here!” the left guard threatened, pointing a steel dirk to Vixon. “This whore hadn't paid us the protection money! You know what happens if you don't pay, right?!”

Vixon didn't waver or cower the slightest; his eyes burned in rage.

“That's your excuse?!” Vixon said as he stared at the guard with eyes full of rage. “You are all worthless scums—!”

“Hey! We’ve told you already!” the middle guard as he moved a step. “She owes us money, so back off—!”

"And what if I don't?" Vixon asked as he leaned closer.

“Bastard!” the right guard said. “You’ve got a death wish?!”

“For all of you!”

The left guard tried to stab Vixon's face but Vixon grabbed the guard's wrist with his left hand first before it reached Vixon's nose and grip it with force, dropping the dirk. He pulled him down to the ground, dislocating his shoulder.

“Y-You!” the middle guard charged with his fist ready. Vixon sidestepped and elbowed the guard between his eyes. The guard fell on the left guard. The right guard just stood, trembling.

“Come on,” Vixon taunted. “You’re afraid and call yourself a guard?”

“Son of a whore!” the right guard said, offending Vixon down to the core.

“Bad move,” Vixon said as he grabbed the cowardly guard on his face and slammed it on the ground hard. “Don’t you ever dare to talk like that!” Vixon stomped the guard on his face, breaking the nose.

“This lad…” the left guard thought. “He is dreadfully strong for a nobody!”

The left and the middle guard stood, grinning.

“Hey, lad! If you still love your family, I advise you to beg forgiveness from us!” the middle threatened.

“We’ve seen your face!” the left said. “We’ll track your family down!”

“Bunch of cowards…” Vixon thought as he clenched his fists, angry out of his powerlessness. He looked at the ground, knowing that those guards could get their revenge on him by making his family's life a living hell.

Vixon raised his arms, surrendering. The two tackled Vixon to the ground, beating him out.

"Take this! You bastard son of a whore!" the middle shouted as he kicked Vixon's face and back.

Vixon took all the punches until the guards felt bored.

"Peasants!" the left mocked as he spat on Vixon's tunic.

The two helped the right guard and left them both alone, searching for another target to vent their stress. Vixon stood in pain after withstanding such physical abuse, but knowing that his family was safe relieved him.

The abused woman crawled and knelt in front of Vixon, kissing his feet.

"Thank you!" the woman thanked Vixon sincerely. "Thank you—!"

"Don't do that," Vixon said as he helped her to stand. "I'm but a common-born. No more or less than you miss."

"What can I do for you—?"

"Nothing," Vixon answered blatantly.

"I-I'm a h-harlot! If you want to—!"

“N-No. I want nothing in return,” Vixon insisted as he turned, leaving. “Don’t degrade yourself like this. There’s always a better way to get coins.”

Vixon hurried, leaving, but the woman followed him.

“I-I'm R-Rachel Magdalene,” she introduced. “M-May I know your n—?”

“Vixon Wildrow,” Vixon said as he stopped without turning back.

"C-Can we meet again someday?" she asked; her face was red out of infatuation.

Vixon thought for a second.

"If God is willing," he replied and left to go on his own way.

“Vixon…” she thought before going on her way.

Continuing his way home, Vixon was anxious about her mother’s reaction to seeing her beloved son bruised and beaten up like this. Vixon thought, trying to come up with an excuse.

"What should I tell her when she sees me like this?" he thought, worried as he knew her mother would be furious if she knew Vixon caused another trouble again.

Ten minutes away from reaching his home, Vixon felt someone was tailing him. He knew it wasn’t Rachel as the footsteps were different. Fearing of getting mugged, Vixon hurried, circling the street, and pretended to go to a dead-end. The follower stopped at the dead-end in an alley, confused, and Vixon appeared behind his follower. The tall buildings blocked the moonlight, covering the man with shadows.

"Who are you?" Vixon asked.

The person stepped out from the shadows. It was an average slightly hunched back man in his 50s wearing a white cassock and a short red clerical cloak. He had pale skin, brown but whitening curtained hair with a full beard, blue eyes, and a Roman nose.

“Pardon me,” Vixon said as he lowered his guard. “You're a missionary?”

“Good Evening, young man. I'm a bishop,” he replied. His voice was soft and friendly. “A bishop from Xatican.”

Vixon's mouth opened agape from hearing his reply. But it didn't calm him. Why would a bishop from another kingdom stalk a young man like him in the darkness of night?

"Why are you following me, your Holiness?" Vixon asked with his heart riddled.

“Because you are interesting.” He looked deep into Vixon’s eyes like an open door. “That eyes,” he commented. “That is the eyes of a ruler… You might be the one to become a king. No, not only a mere king. But a sole ruler on the land; far greater than Julius.”

“Ridiculous!” Vixon said aloud, doubting the bishop. “Do you think a common-born like me can be a king? Pardon my insolence, but I think it's impossible for me. Your Holiness.”

Vixon turned, leaving; he had enough of hearing such an impossible prophecy.

"Nonsense!" Vixon thought as he shook his head.

“In your eyes. You thirst for justice, your eyes filled with passion, your heart burns with a blue flame,” the bishop said. “You will soar higher than eagles. You will rule and reign supreme. You will trample everyone who opposes you under your foot—”

“You've got the wrong person, your holiness,” Vixon said as he turned back, facing the bishop. “Stop spouting nonsense—!”

"Do you hate them?" the bishop asked with a subtle grin. "Those high-born who made your life miserable and the emperor who ruined everything... You resent them for what they do, no? Let me hear your answer."

Vixon clenched his fists as he gritted his teeth.

“I hate them…” he said, furious. “I hate them more than everything else in this world—!”

“Perfect!” The bishop said aloud, pleased as he took something from his pocket; a dark-green colored gemstone about the size of a fist. “You are, hereby, worthy of this stone!”

The bishop handed the stone to Vixon, but Vixon just looked at the odd dark-green stone.

“What is this stone?” Vixon asked, concerned. “I have mined several ores within the earth, but this is my first time seeing this gem.”

“It’s an alchemy stone, young man. It’s Philosopher’s Stone to be exact.”

"Why did you give me this stone?"

"Because you are worthy of it."

Vixon shook his head, doubting.

“Worthy? Pardon. I need a proper explanation.”

The bishop grinned as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“Let's just say: The stone had chosen you, young man.”

Vixon frowned as he stared at the bishop.

“Chose? I don't get what you're saying.”

“What if I tell you that the emperor possessed that stone before?”

Vixon's eyes widened as his heart skipped a beat; the stone he held now once belonged to the insane conqueror himself, Emperor Julius.

“This stone... Belonged to him?”

“Yes. That stone used to be Julius' and anyone who possesses the stone will become a powerful king. And you’re worthy of it. Take it, young man.”

Now the stone piqued Vixon’s interest; how could this seemingly useless stone make him a powerful king?

“What can this stone do?” Vixon asked.

“It grants you the power you need to reach your dream.”

“The power I need…?” Vixon muttered as he grasped the stone. “If this stone was his, how did you obtain it?”

“The stone once chose him. After becoming the emperor, he voided the stone out of his possession, so I took the stone back from him. The masterless stone seeks its new master and now, it chooses you.”

“I see…”

“I've told you everything you need to know, and I have finished my business here. I will see you later as you climb your way to the top.”

The bishop left him alone, walking in the opposite direction.

“If his words are true, then…” Vixon thought as he walked home. “I can change this corrupt kingdom.”

After ten minutes of walking, he reached the front of his home. He reached his hand to the door, but without him expecting, her mother opened it first from the inside.

She was devastated as her eyes opened wide with her irises shrunk from seeing Vixon's bruised and bloodied face and body with his clothes dirtied.

“I-I can explain!” Vixon said.

Tears filled her eyes as she covered her mouth with her hands.

"Vixon…?!" she said aloud, hysteric. "What have you done—?!"

“I'm fine. Don't worry about—”

His mother slapped him.

“How could I not worry about my one and only son?!” she asked as she burst into tears.

"Sorry. I just can't stand and watch—"

The mother cried as she hugged Vixon.

“Vixon. Please stop already!” her mother cried. “I'm grateful that you're still able to walk and return to us. What if something worse happens?! I don't want to lose my only son!”

Vixon sighed as he hugged his mother back.

“I will not let that happen again,” Vixon promised. “I promise.”

“Please, Vixon. It's for your own. Please understand.”

“I will, I will. Calm down, mother,” Vixon said as he patted her back.

She released her hug and wiped her tears.

“I will bring you new clothes. Come in,” she said. “I have to treat your injuries.”

They both sat down on the bed in Vixon’s room. For Vixon’s treatment, her mother had prepared clean bandages, a thick fabric, alcohol for disinfectant, and a bucket of water to clean Vixon’s body.

“Open your clothes,” she said.

Vixon removed his tunic, revealing more bruises on his body from his chest down to his abdomen.

“Look what they've done to you…” Her mouth quivered as she cleaned the wounds with the fabric dipped in alcohol. “Don't you dare to go out during the night!” she scolded as she put more strength when cleaning.

“Ouch—!” Vixon clenched his teeth, trying to hold the pain as he felt the stinging sensation from his bruises and wounds.

“You shouldn't be doing this anymore! I will forbid you from going outside alone from now on!”

“F-Fine.”

His mother then applied bandages and patches on his body to cover the wounds. She pressed the bandage as lightly as she could on his back.

“Agh! M-Mother, be gentle—!” Vixon said aloud from the pain.

“Man up! You're not a child anymore!”

The mother put on more strength as she pressed the bandage.

“I know! Ouch! M-Mother!” Vixon said as his eyes became teary from the stinging pains.

After Vixon’s body, now it’s his face and hands.

"Now, show me your face and arms," she said.

Vixon faced her and showed his wounded face and arms. She cleaned his wounds and bruises with the fabric.

“Remember Vixon,” she said with a warm smile. “God gives you these arms to help others. Don't you ever use them to hurt anyone, especially women, understood?”

“Understood.”

She applied some patches on his wounds and bandages on each. She took another fabric and dipped it with alcohol to clean Vixon's face from dirt and sand.

“You've grown into a handsome and charming man, Vixon,” she commented. “You look like your father, even though—”

“I'm a foster child.”

Her mother gave him a loving smile.

“No, Vixon. No. For us, you're our genuine child, whatever happens.”

Vixon’s heart melted from hearing such a word. He felt warmth in his chest and abdomen as tears of happiness flowed. He hid his face by looking away, averting his eyes.

“T-Thank you…”

She held Vixon's head and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“We're really overjoyed when we found you that day.” She kissed Vixon’s forehead. “God had given me a child!”

She applied a patch on Vixon's right cheek and gave him some clothes. Vixon wore it and laid down on his bed.

“Good night, dear,” she said before leaving with the bloodied and dirty fabrics, a bucket, and Vixon's dirty clothes.

“Good night, mother.”

Vixon rested his body, trying to fall asleep, but he felt an uneasy feeling; he felt someone was watching him. There's no window in Vixon’s room, but there are some ventilation holes. The only light came from the moonlight passing through the ventilation and a flickering candle.

“Must be my imagination,” Vixon thought.

“Are you sure?” a disembodied and raspy voice of a man in the late 40s asked.

Vixon jumped out of his bed and immediately observed his surroundings. But there's no one besides him in the room.

“Who's there?!” Vixon asked aloud as he also tried to keep his voice low.

“It's I, the spirit inside the stone.”

“Show yourself!”

“I am inside the stone you possess.”

“What the…?” Vixon opened his pocket and took the stone; it was glowing.

“Good evening, master,” the voice greeted, coming from the stone.

“What in tarnation?!” Vixon thought as he dropped the stone out of surprise.

“I'm Adar, a spirit inside the stone.”

“Adar? A spirit? What do you mean? What are you?!”

“I'm a daemon, a divine spirit. The god of old.”

Vixon might not be a religious type of person, but he knew the word ‘daemon’ meant a bad thing. So as soon as the stone said it, he kicked the stone away. The stone hit the wall hard, but it didn’t even leave a scratch.

“You... a demon?!” Vixon questioned as he kept the distance with the stone.

Adar laughed from seeing Vixon's reactions alone.

“Kekekekekekeh…! Humans are surely afraid of anything unknown to them. Don't worry, master. I shall inflict no harm upon you.”

“I believe no demons.”

“You’re in luck. I'm no demon.”

“Don't lie! You are a demon—!”

“I've told you my name, master. I'm Adar, the god of old.”

“I care not for your name—!”

“So what do you care about? Oh, let me get to the point: Do you want the power to change the world?”

Vixon stayed silent, remembering what the bishop said about the stone choosing him.

“Don't tell me…” Vixon muttered as he looked away. “The power the bishop mentioned earlier is the power of evil.”

The stone chuckled from hearing Vixon's statement.

“Evil?! Kekekekekekeh! So what of it?” Adar asked. “Humans always question morality. Evil and Good is one’s perception!”

“...”

Vixon just stared at the stone, having nothing to say.

“You thirst for power, master!” Adar exclaimed. “You always desire powers. You know that you are weak compared to those nobles. You want to strike them all down! No, you shall defeat them all under your feet. All you need is I and I shall grant you power!”

“How... How could I trust you?” Vixon asked.

“We share the same goal: Julius. We will use each other and help each other. You help me dethrone Julius, and I shall grant you the power to be a ruler. That is the basis of our trust.”

“The bishop said that you were once Julius'. Why did he discard you?”

“...”

Adar went silent; the moment it talked, an ominous and suffocating aura filled the room.

“Damned Julius…!” Adar uttered. “I gave him the power he needed to reach the top, and he betrayed me! For that, I shall dethrone him myself! I shall need your help to dethrone that bastard of a man, Julius, as long as you promise me you will never do the same!”

“Keep your voice down!” Vixon muttered as quietly as possible.

“My words could reach but your eyes. Don’t you worry.”

“For that power… What should I offer?”

“Hm… Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yes. Nothing. I just need someone to own me, that’s all. So, how about it? Do you accept the offer?”

Vixon thought for a moment about the deal. He wanted to take down the nobles and the empire who made him suffer, but was it worth using power from the demons? He knew his parents would be greatly disappointed in him if they knew Vixon made a deal with the devil.

But for Vixon, he would gladly do anything possible to save the commons from this endless tyranny and suffering. To change something, one needs power and so was Vixon. If he wanted to save them, then he needed power, even if that meant he had to work using the devil’s aid. With his hesitation gone, he picked the stone up and stared at it.

“Deal.”

Adar laughed, pleased by Vixon's decision.

“Path of power awaits you, master,” Adar shouted before the stone stopped glowing. It went silent, and Vixon put it inside his pocket.

“I have it now…” Vixon thought as he lied on the bed. “Power… to change this rotten kingdom.”

Vixon closed his eyes and fell asleep for the night.