Branded Book 3: Conqueror
A downloadable book
Croy’s army pushed the Satran invaders back inside their own borders.
King Fitzeirick swore to eliminate the hated nation and is eager to lead his army to victory, but first, he must escort a good friend Varia and meet with King Crum.
On the way, Fitzeirick find the site of his former hall and later receives puzzling information, from a disturbing source.
Visiting his lifelong best friend, he hears good news; Crum will soon be a father!
Traveling south, to the border with Satra, brings more mystery and an unexpected meeting with a potential ally, providing more strange information but no real answers.
Despite losing a key leader soon after Fitzeirick arrives at the border, he insists on continuing the war. After all, he has questions and it seems all the answers are waiting in a foreign land.
It is possible not everything Fitzeirick believes about Satra, and his situation, is true? Were the the warring nations once allies? Who will win the war between Croy and Satra?
Ride along with King Fitzeirick to face unexpected obstacles, negotiate with those he suspects are plotting against him, and form a plan to emerge a victor all while trying to just survive.
Purchase
In order to download this book you must purchase it at or above the minimum price of $4 USD. You will get access to the following files:
Comments
Log in with itch.io to leave a comment.
Chapter 1
The steel left a cold line as it slid across the back of my neck. Hairs on my arms stood tall. Light from several candles burning on the table beside me cast dancing shadows on the wall. Bracing my back against the chair to hold myself steady produced a quiet creak from the wood. My ears filled with the raspy sound of metal scraping metal as Tindra trimmed my hair with a small pair of shears.
“The timing of this meeting is still suspect if you ask me,” she said, resting the cool metal below my left ear. “Since my parents will be here no more than a day after you leave.”
Reaching back, I patted her leg as she continued trimming my hair. “I’m not leaving to avoid your parents. Riding out with this caravan is the perfect opportunity for me to meet with Crum after he officially promotes Lieutenant Aerison to Commander. Along the way, I can survey my old skati. I won’t let people resettle there without seeing how bad it is myself.”
She tapped her foot while trimming around my ears. As she worked, the shears grew warmer.
“I will dump you in a watering trough if you burn me.” I rubbed the upside-down T burned into my left cheek. “I don’t need another brand. What’s bothering you?” Firesyths. I swear.
“Sorry.” The metal cooled. “I worry.”
I sighed, pushed my talent into the stone floor, and spun my chair around to face her. “You have nothing to fear. There are no threats left in my old territory. Once I lead our army into Satra, I promise to stay out of the fighting.”
“Maybe our victories have come too easy. What if it’s all a trap to get you into Satra? After all, we don’t know what lies Porsey fed them.” She snipped the front of my hair short. “I think success clouds your memory. Don’t ignore the week they held our forces at bay before running back into Satra.
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“Good. Lather your face; I’m shaving your beard.”
I laughed. “Given the mood you’re in? There’s no way I’m letting you put a blade near my neck.”
“Fitzeirick, dear husband.” She touched her forehead to mine and kissed me on the nose. Sparks flared in her eyes. “My love, I know where you sleep. If I wanted to slit your throat, I could do it any time. Lather your face, or I’ll shave you dry.”
I pulled her into my lap and kissed her until she pushed away.
“Keep this up, and your warriors will leave without you,” she said, smiling.
I laughed and let her go. “I’m the king. They won’t leave until I give the order.”
She smiled and shook her head before pointing. “Soap. Face. Now.”
“I thought you liked me with a beard,” I said, reaching for the soap.
“I don’t mind you having a beard, but your helmet will be more comfortable without one. Plus, they can be a liability on the battlefield.”
I nodded and dipped the soap into the small bucket of water sitting on the table. It wasn’t long before the hair on my neck was loaded with frothy bubbles.
Tindra drew a short knife from her belt and rested the edge lightly against the base of my throat before pressing the stump of her right wrist against my forehead. “Don’t move. My left hand still isn’t as steady as my right was. I’d hate to cut you by accident.”
“Let me shave myself,” I protested.
“If I don’t practice, I’ll never get any better,” she argued, and quickly scraped the hair off my face, only slowing when she had to work around the brand. “Much better,” she said. “Rinse. I’ll gather your things.”
“I’m packed. The only thing left is to put on my armor,” I said, reaching for her. “Why are you trying to busy yourself? What’s bothering you?”
She sighed and took my hand. “Everything. My parents are coming—”
“Aren’t you happy to see them?”
“Of course, but you’re leaving, and I know something bad is going to happen to you. Also, you expect me and Roi to work together with the builders working on our castle. We’re getting along better, but...honestly, if I wasn’t friends with Grima, I wouldn’t be allowed in their house.”
I shook my head. “Roi’s not as bad as you think. Give him something to focus on, and you two will be fine. And stop worrying about me. I killed my half-brother and took leadership of Croy while leading only five people. Imagine what I can do to Satra with an army.”
She smiled, hugged my face to her chest, and ran her fingers through my hair. “So confident. It’s one of your better qualities.”
I hugged her back. “I know losing your hand cost you more than you want to admit, but”—I rubbed my smooth chin—“you’re adapting well.”
“Thank you for understanding,” she said, “and for your support. I’m glad you don’t treat me like I can’t do anything for myself.”
“A queen who couldn’t take care of herself wouldn’t be any good for me or our country,” I said and stood. “I need to put my armor on and get going.”
Tindra nodded. “Let’s get you dressed. After I walk you to the caravan, I’ll talk to Einns and get a list of how he wants the castle kitchen.”
“Assuming all goes well, I should be back in time to move into our new home,” I commented.
Although the steel sandwiched between the inner and outer layers of my dark-green-and-brown leather armor added a lot of weight, I had worked the thick skins enough to make the protective garment easy to put on. Having Tindra’s help wasn’t necessary, but I could tell it made her happy.
With a quiet click, my metal-and-stone battle hammer stuck to the magnets on my back. I hefted the saddlebags filled with spare clothes and supplies to clean my armor. If I learned nothing else while training with the Varian army, the importance of well-maintained armor stuck with me.
“Don’t forget your helmet,” Tindra said, picking it up from the table.
I took it from her, and she planted a long, hard kiss on my lips before letting me slide the leather-covered, steel helmet in place.
“To remind you why you need to come back home.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What makes you think I could ever forget you?”
She smiled and took my hand. “Shall we go?”
“You’re going out unarmed?” I asked.
“How would it look for the queen of Croy to walk to her friend's house with a sword on her hip?”
I shrugged. “Whatever you think is best.”
“Remember to keep using those words when you get back.” She laughed and pulled me toward the door.