Chapter 12 – A Prince Without Privilege
The training yard fell silent.
Dozens of Watchmen, recruits, and royal guards formed a loose circle around the sparring ring. Even the blacksmith working at the forge nearby had stopped hammering steel.
Prince Henry rested the wooden practice sword against his shoulder.
He smiled.
"Ready?"
Brook nodded.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
Captain Mercer stepped between them.
"This is a friendly spar."
His voice carried across the yard.
"No killing blows. No cheap shots. The match ends when one fighter is disarmed or unable to continue."
His eyes moved from Henry to Brook.
"Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Mercer stepped back.
"Begin."
Neither man moved.
For several seconds, they simply studied one another.
Brook noticed Henry's stance first.
Balanced.
Relaxed.
Not the stance of someone who had learned swordsmanship for ceremonies.
This was someone who trained every day.
Henry noticed the same thing.
"He's calm," he thought.
"Most people get nervous fighting a prince."
Brook slowly circled to his left.
Henry mirrored him.
Then—
Henry attacked.
The wooden sword cut through the air with surprising speed.
Brook blocked instinctively.
Crack.
The force pushed him back half a step.
"Strong…"
Henry followed with another strike, then another, forcing Brook to stay on the defensive.
The recruits watched in amazement.
"I thought princes just gave speeches."
"So did I."
Brook ducked beneath a horizontal swing before countering with a quick strike toward Henry's shoulder.
Henry twisted away just in time.
The wooden blade brushed against his armor instead.
He smiled.
"Nice."
Brook didn't answer.
He pressed forward.
Three quick strikes.
High.
Low.
Middle.
Henry blocked every one.
Their practice swords collided again and again, echoing across the yard.
Neither man gained an advantage.
Captain Mercer folded his arms.
"What do you think?"
One of the senior Watchmen answered quietly.
"The prince's technique is excellent."
Mercer nodded.
"And Brook?"
"He adapts."
Crowley, standing a few feet away, spoke without taking his eyes off the match.
"They're both holding back."
Mercer glanced at him.
"You think so?"
"I know so."
Brook feinted high.
Henry reacted.
That was all Brook needed.
He pivoted and swept low.
Henry's feet left the ground.
The prince hit the sand with a dull thud, but before Brook could capitalize—
Henry rolled backward, springing to his feet in one smooth motion.
A few recruits applauded.
Brook couldn't help smiling.
"You've done that before."
Henry grinned.
"More times than my instructors would like."
They rushed each other again.
This time the exchange was faster.
Wood cracked against wood in a blur.
Henry's speed surprised Brook.
Brook's instincts surprised Henry.
Neither could predict the other's next move.
The spectators leaned forward with every clash.
Then something changed.
Brook noticed it first.
A faint vibration beneath his boots.
So slight he thought he'd imagined it.
Henry hesitated.
"You felt that?"
Brook nodded.
Before either could say another word—
BOOM!
The entire training yard shook.
Dust rained from the watchtower walls.
Birds exploded into the sky.
Another horn sounded from the northern Wall.
Not once.
Not twice.
Over and over.
Mercer's expression hardened instantly.
"Battle stations!"
The training match was forgotten.
Watchmen sprinted toward the towers.
Royal guards surrounded Henry.
"Your Highness, we must escort you back to the palace."
Henry pulled away.
"I'm not leaving."
"Sir—"
"I'm staying."
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried enough authority that the guards immediately fell silent.
He looked at Mercer.
"Tell me where you need me."
Mercer studied him for a moment.
Then nodded once.
"With me."
Crowley was already moving toward the northern stairs.
Brook caught up beside him.
"What do you think it is?"
Crowley's eyes remained fixed ahead.
"I don't know."
Brook frowned.
"You said that before."
"I did."
"You weren't telling the truth."
Crowley finally looked at him.
For just a heartbeat.
"No."
Before Brook could ask another question, they reached the top of the Wall.
The scene beyond it stole the words from everyone's mouth.
The forest was burning.
Not with ordinary fire.
Great pillars of pale blue flames rose above the trees, reaching toward the clouds.
The fire spread without smoke.
Without sound.
Even stranger…
The Abominations weren't fleeing.
They were running toward the flames.
Every creature they could see—Fast Biters, Weepers, Crawlers—ignored the Wall completely.
They raced deeper into the burning forest as if answering a call.
Henry stepped beside Brook.
"I've never seen anything like this."
Neither had Brook.
Behind them, Captain Mercer slowly lowered his spyglass.
His face had gone pale.
"…Send word to the palace."
One of the officers looked at him.
"What message?"
Mercer's eyes never left the blue fire.
His answer came quietly.
"Tell His Majesty…"
He swallowed.
"…the Blackwood has awakened."
A silence fell across the Wall.
No one knew what that meant.
But judging by the fear on the faces of the oldest Watchmen…
They all wished they didn't have to find out.