Gauntlet

His footsteps clinked up the spiral staircase. The remaining drops of blood from Gupo’s corpse left the gauntlet as the Prince’s mind was filled with thoughts of the last time he tried to climb this staircase. At over three hundred steps, the Prince had only made fifty before collapsing.

He’d been climbing the staircase to stand with his father as the king was about to give a speech, but instead of stopping to help his collapsed son, his father stepped over him. Leaving Gupo to drag the lanky disappointment to the medic’s for fresh air and cucumber water.

That was the old me, Fabian thought, flexing his calves with every step. Tensing his arms as he clenched his fists, the gauntlet reminded him of every shortcoming he had faced in his lifetime, his lack of acceptance from his perfect sister, “For once. I might be able to win a sparring match with her,” his babbling mind continued as each step up the spiral was one further into his subconscious.

The amulet of his newfound power clinked along the outside of the armor, the only frustration repeating in his head as he played out every scenario, every victory he would have from this moment forward could all be just a fallacy if something were to happen to the amulet, so his fighting style should reflect that. He tried his best to remember years ago in a courtyard when he would look up from his book to watch his sister spar with the castle guards, remembering the way she would twist her body to get the most out of a punch, the way she would grapple an opponent to the ground before rendering them unconscious.

Admittedly, the Prince had never been in a real fight, his obvious physicality stopped him from such performances, he always knew his true strength was his mind, his ability to read and retain everything in his life and recall it off the top of his head, the strategies he had concocted to win battles from afar. Yes, his mind was his greatest asset, but the gauntlet was making quick work of that.

The Prince’s daydreaming continued as he neared the top of the tower. He had always envisioned himself to be a hero like those he’d read of in his books, like his father always wanted him to be, like his sister already was. And that started now.

Making sure to lift the faceguard to his helmet before speaking, the Prince cleared his throat, “MY GOOD PEOPLE, HEAR ME NOW, SUBJECTS OF HABERDASH,” he yelled, projecting his voice from the tallest tower in the Capital, looking down at his subjects living their daily lives in the markets below now that Alizar’s army had passed through.

“IN ACCORDANCE TO THE LAW MY FATHER, KING ELRICK, SET DOWN BEFORE HIS PASSING, I STAND BEFORE YOU READY TO CHALLENGE ANY WARRIOR WHO THINKS THEY CAN BEST ME TO TRULY EARN MY BIRTHRIGHT AS YOUR KING.”

With the power fully gone to his head, the Prince stepped upon the guardrail as voices bellow gasped, he leaned forward, diving off the top of his tower, his subjects bellow screamed and ran, but most watched in awe from what they thought was a safe distance to watch the long appointed heir kill himself. But they were displeased to watch him soar through the air, doing a backflip before sticking the landing, right onto the glass floor of the top of the Capital.

The force of his iron body connecting the kinetic energy of the fall with something as precise as his feet poised together was beyond enough force to shatter the road as giant fissures formed, cracking their roads and streets like a skating rink in spring.

The panicked citizens ran to their homes or nearby businesses that held their foundations from the buildings they were built on, as the unfortunate people who couldn’t meet the same fate as most of the people below. Carved by shards of glass bigger and thicker than they were, the razor-sharp edges took their lives, leaving many corpses in the illuminated bottom of the Capital.

♮

San and the Princes took a moment from there mini-training session to watch the chaos unfold, the Prince’s speech and swan dive was a great way to reinvent himself from a pompous push over to an unthinking killing machine, not afraid to kill his people’s lives for an entrance.

Practicing swinging a dagger the Princess handed her, trying to adjust to her lighter form, Aurora did her best to not enjoy San’s revealing clothing, thought after some hesitation, she fetched her some lightweight armor, sturdy cloth lined with hard leathers still felt like she was wearing nothing compared to the hundreds of pounds the gauntlet’s armor added to her daily life.

“I have a plan to take him out if you don’t mind playing dirty” the Princess grunted as she drew the string to her bow.

“Compared to using magical artifacts to make yourself indestructible, how dirty are we talking?”

“Not that dirty, because he’s not that indestructible,” the Princess said as she hit her target’s bullseye before walking back to the window that showed the great city, but more importantly, the citizens stupid enough, or angry enough, to challenge the Prince.

“Despite the Capital’s status, in its current state, it is only a shadow of its former self,” she said with a huff, “when my father ruled we were at an economic high, crime at an all-time low and a smile was worn by every citizen, but around this time five years ago, my father met his death, as the city was left without a ruler, everyone blamed the Prince for hiding and not accepting challengers as he traveled the globe looking for those silly artifacts.

And of course, I couldn’t rule with these,” the Princes said enthusiastically grabbing her breasts, laughing.

“But you’re strong. That seemed to be all your father cared about.”

“Rules are rules,” the Princes stated, grabbing a quiver full of arrows to rest by her hip.

“Come on, my brother has had too much fun as it is.”

So the two hurried off down the vacant corridors, “much more preferred than crawling around in filthy air ducts” San thought as she followed the Princess, running past vacant suits of armor, a handful of petrified servants, only to stop at a peculiarly placed china cabinet.

“Help me with this will you?” the Princess asked as she pressed up against the regal cabinet. San joined her in pushing one of the most expensive-looking things in the castle. A miserable screech came from its feet as it put up quite a fuss, grinding against the floor, but after an ear-bleeding minute, the china cabinet revealed a gated door hiding behind it.

“Climb in,” the Princess said casually as she undid the secret door’s latch assist, metal accordion frame folding to one side, revealing a small closet that shook when San stepped in it.

“Now this was installed the year mother was pregnant with me, so it’s practically never been used,” she said, reaching past San to push an illuminated button hiding off to one side.

The mechanical door followed its master’s command as it folded shut and sent the pair to B1

“Your telling me this little box on a rope goes straight to the lower half of the Capital?” San asked, astonished that such a thing existed, as its soothing music played to their declining altitude.

“Yes, it is quite fun, maybe we should have more of them,” the Princess pondered, her sentence ending as the bell’s toll signaled they were here. The mechanical door opened by themselves as another cabinet of sorts seemed to be in place to hide the machine.

Being trapped in such a small space, they pressed their backs to the entryway, pushing off from the metal interior. Shoving in bursts, the heavy cabinet toppled as the two stepped out into a disgusting, dark, dingy, bar, one that looked all too familiar.

Stepping over the broken wooden cabinet out onto the creaking floorboards, the barkeep’s face could not have been stretched further into terror, her back to the window where she was watching the Prince’s fight. Her drunken customers had all left and were being slaughtered one by one for underestimating their once frail prince.

“Legend had it, this was mother’s favorite bar, but it looks like it’s changed hands a few times, doesn’t match the paintings at all.”

“Your highness, what a pleasure it is to have you in my humble establishment,” the barkeep said, her lip quivering as her eyes stayed glued to San, surely recognizing the girl despite the year that had passed and the lack of iron hanging from her arm.

“Yes, sorry about that,” the Princess said pointing down to the cabinet as the two made their way to the front door, “you will receive a sack of gold in the mail for the damages any day now.”

The lower half of the Capital had never looked better, the sun was shining, the air was clean, everything was better except for the giant shards of glass cutting holes through the buildings and covering the streets like a painful snow, the body’s penetrated by the falling ceiling, and of course the bloodbath pooling up around the edges of the makeshift arena the Prince had started.

San and Aroroa parted the sea of people as they made their way to the front. The Prince truly was an image of his father, he had inherited his height, but not his mass, so while before he had looked like a dead tree in the wind, only suited for changing candles on a chandelier, but now with the magic of the amulet, every tendon bulged as the armor tightly stuck to the crevices his mussels made, his decades of straight white hair flowed from his helmet, as he fought multiple men at once.

“It doesn’t seem clear how a three on one fight like this could declare the new king—if more than one man took down the Prince, would they share the throne?” San thought, but it didn’t matter as the Prince was still only toying with them, grabbing their faces and shoving them around like ragdolls, only killing them when he got bored.

Winding up his massive, fist a solid blow to one of the man’s chins not only decapitated him but the mess of a face that shot from his body out into the crowd was unrecognizable. While some men cheered, others screamed at the grotesque brutality.

“Oh, hello, sister dear, made another friend, have we?” Fabian said with only fragments of his original voice remaining, holding another man by the waist above his head, his squirming limbs resembling a worm before the hook as he closed his grasp, severing the man down the middle as the life left his eyes and his cries for mercy fell silent to the cheering crowd and drops of pooled blood.

“Show off as much as you’d like but think about what kind of king reduces his subjects to mincemeat.”

“SUBJECTS?” he howled as his voice lost all traces of humanity, taking on an etched, demonic tone, grabbing the last of the men as they tried to escape “these are but mere insects who dared to challenge me,” he cackled as he picked off the man’s arms, then legs. The blood gushing from his stumps, the man had clearly bled out in the Prince’s hands but to continue his showing off, whether he wanted to or not, he held the torso of the man with the head still attached in one hand, the other clenched fist preparing to drop as only a few disturbed citizens lined the front row, red splattered faces chanting for the killing to continue.

But it didn’t. San had seen enough. Dashing into the line of his crushing hammer fist, she knocked the body of the already brutalized man out of his clutches, as his hand came down, the metal on metal thud only dampened by his disturbed snickering.

Turning to face San as she set the body down off to the side, he snarled, “Yes, the gauntlet remembers you, I can feel it, it cries out… Kill the girl, she tried to stop us, wants to destroy us.”

The Prince charged at San over the blood-soaked glass, the surface they battled on was so slick, San was able to buy herself some time, sliding between his legs as his reactions were off, and he missed a thundering smash with his iron knuckle down at her, shattering the massive glass platform even more, only after San regained her safety in space.

The Princesses drawn bow was aimed, not willing to let this go on any longer than it had to, until she was shoved by some degenerate as she let loose an arrow off by a hair, hitting her brother’s armor and not the amulet. Realizing their plan, he lunged from the cracked glass platform, grabbing his sister who could have dodged if the deranged men covered in blood who cheered for the massacre hadn’t bound her arms and legs with their prying hands.

“How pathetic, sister,” his voice grumbled behind his helmet, holding her torso with his gauntlet, ensuring her arms and neck between his fingers so he could toy with her.

“For so many years, you belittled me, you proved you were better at every chance. Well, who is on top now? Who will sit and rule!” he asked, every question adding pressure in his grasp.

Seeing the opportunity, San ran across the jagged surface, a thousand eyes watching her next move as she jumped and grabbed the chain of the amulet, but as she yanked, the links withstood her force as the soon to be king’s bellowing laugh filled the space. The crowd’s cheering muted as he ignored San for the moment, the vengeance burning in his soul for his sister, for all the memories of failure clouding his vision, only catching a glimpse of San unsheathing her dagger as a blinding twinkle of the metal meeting the sun didn’t last.

Quickly, she drove the dagger between the metal binds that held the amulet together, shattering the metal as she held the cursed object in her hand. A gush of steam vented out of the Prince, knocking his helmet clean off his meaty cheeks and chiseled jaw.

He quickly shriveled back to a hollowed nothing, the armor shrinking to still fit the Prince’s frail form as his legs went from tree trunks to twigs, his arms bulging biceps reduced to barely being there. His sister escaped, gasping for air, but she didn’t care as she dove through the air, on a dare, for San’s arms were there, as the pair did share, a hug less bare, San’s face covered in orange hair, incredibly grateful Febain wouldn’t be the heir.

Unfortunately, the transformation left the Prince’s conscience as it was clear from his screams he was a sore loser. His slender physique unable to support his full armored suit, his sister simply pushed the screaming sibling as he toppled back onto the further cracked glass, on his back as his wailing continued.

“HOW DARE YOU! YOU WILL BE HANGED AT ONCE! GUARDS! GUAR—”, but the Prince was interrupted, as his sister’s boot had come off, and her sock had soon found its way to his mouth. The Princess took to standing on her brother’s breastplate as a podium. As she addressed the crowd, San awkwardly stood nearby.

“Good people, you have waited in purgatory for your prince to be challenged for far too long, as we watched our once great city, once great country fall into to ruin, our neighboring villages have long been ransacked for artifacts,” her arms swaying to San now as she spoke.

“But no longer. My father, your King’s last ruling declared whatever warrior was able to defeat my brother,” his muffled screams still harmonizing with her speech. “They will be your new king, so as your princess, I say we support a female ruler as San has proven to be the mightiest. Are we all in agreement?”

The crowd cheered louder than ever before as the Princess welcomed San onto her brother’s armor to speak.

“Address the people, your majesty,” the Princess said with a wink.

Staring out into the joy-filled faces, San was speechless as she never expected the Princess not to take the throne, “I am not your queen,” San said as the giddy crowd fell silent. “My might as a warrior has nothing to do with ruling a kingdom, for that, I would think you would want someone intelligent enough to make the smart decisions for you all, compassionate enough to listen to what you need, and stubborn enough to make sure it all gets done the right way. So, I ask you to please elect your princess to rule, but if you don’t agree… vote for someone else, voting will take place in the castle next Thursday, that is all. Crowd dismissed,” San said as she hopped down, surprising even the Princess as she followed San back into the bar and up the elevator, her staggered step becoming an iconic joke for the future queen as she chased after San while still missing her boot.