Chapter 4 - The Golden Eagle's Forge

The room was small and dark. Little Darian couldn't see a thing. He could hear footsteps outside, but he could see no one. He was still a kid and still scared of the dark.

When his mother was still around, he would enter the covers and curl into her embrace. Since he was no longer with his mother, he had learned to cover himself completely with the sheets.

But here, there were no covers. The place was cold and dark. There wasn't even a chair to sit on. Darian's back leaned against the cold floor, and his mind wandered. This darkness seemed to remind him of the day his mother was taken away from him. The memories flooded his mind, and he couldn't help shivering. He could remember the strong arms pulling at his mother. Tears welled up in his eyes again. "Mother..." he whispered. The tears ran down his cheeks. He wiped them away with his hand.

Darian heard the sound of a doorknob turning. The door opened, and someone stepped in. It was Alfred. "The Lord will see you now. Please follow me, young master."

When the door had opened, the incoming light made Darian cover his eyes with one hand. His eyes adjusted to the light gently. He struggled to rise to his feet. His backside was aching badly.

He followed Alfred without uttering a word. Darian was taken to the same room he had gone the first day he had stepped foot in this mansion. When the big doors opened, Darian saw Lord and Lady Featherington looking down on him with disdain.

Lady Ally Featherington spoke first. "My Lord, I believe this boy should be punished harshly for beating up his brothers. His character is horrible."

Jules spoke, too. "Father, he hit me for no good reason. Please punish him so he will not bully us next time."

Darian cut in, "You and Jordan pushed me many times."

"Silence!" Ally Featherington yelled. "You have no right to speak here. You have done enough evil already. You must never raise your voice."

"Why? This is so unfair! Why can't I speak when my brothers can?" Darian argued.

Ally rose from her seat and rushed toward Darian. She hit him on his face. Heat flooded Darian's cheek, and shock filled his eyes. Ally towered over him and shot her words. "You should never compare yourself to your brothers. You are not even worth the dirt on their shoes. You are the son of a concubine. A child born by a mistake. You are privileged to bear my Lord's last name. But, don't you ever believe you can stand on an equal footing with my sons."

One hand rushed to Darian's cheek as Ally's words pierced his heart like sharp arrows. Darian found it hard to respond. The words hung his throat. His gaze immediately shifted to his father. His eyes were pleading. They were saying: Defend me, Father. For once, defend me, please.

His father looked away, tipping the corner of his mustache.

"Bring the table and the giant paddle. Let this boy be taught a lesson," Ally yelled.

"Wait," Lord Featherington said as he rose to his feet.

"My Lord..." Ally's chest was heaving. She felt her husband would object.

"I have a better idea, my lady. Instead of just beating the boy, let us show him what happens to people who have no parents. Let us send him to the mines. By the time he returns... he will know how to show proper respect," Lord Featherington spoke as he stroked his beard.

Lady Ally Featherington exhaled. "That is perfect. Darian needs suffering to learn."

Lord Featherington turned to Alfred. "You are his servant. You will follow him there until I send for him again."

Alfred bowed. "Yes, my Lord."

Darian did not say a word. He walked toward the big doors. Alfred was right behind him.

***

By dawn the next day, Darian and Alfred set out on a chariot. Both of them wore big capes. The chariot rode along on the bumpy road. Darian was silent.

Alfred saw Darian's downcast eyes and spoke, "You should look outside the window, young master. It is a beautiful day."

Darian sighed, "Only you call me 'young master.' Everyone else treats me like trash."

Alfred flashed a smile. "I was a miner in the past. Have you ever seen how gold is refined?"

The thought of hearing a story made Darian raise his eyes.

Alfred continued, "Gold resembles something unwanted when it's found. Until it goes through fire. It is an extremely painful process, but after all the suffering, it comes out bright and luxurious. That's the same thing that will happen to you. You will gain respect and honor with time, if you refuse not to give up."

Darian shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, I don't know."

Alfred nodded his head. "You will soon. Your father is not sending you to a mine."

Darian's eyes widened in surprise. "But that was what he said."

Alfred replied, "That is what he wanted the others to believe. Darian, over the past few months, you have greatly improved in your martial arts skills. You are a natural. Your father and I think it is time for you to learn more. So, at the back of the mine, you will find a better martial arts training center."

"No way!" Darian's hands covered his lips.

Alfred nodded his head. "Yes."

Darian's excitement was replaced by a puzzled look immediately. "But why is my dad doing this? I thought he really wanted to punish me."

Alfred responded, "Your dad knows what he is doing. He also sees you like gold. He will explain everything to you in time. For now, let us go learn some martial arts."

Darian moved excitedly to the door.

"Stop," Alfred said. His mood suddenly became serious. " I hear something. I think we have company."

Darian heard nothing. He wondered what the old man was talking about.

" Bend now!" Alfred commanded. The moment Darian sucked, an arrow shot into the chariot. Darian went on his knees immediately, and so did Alfred. They could hear the final screams of the carriage rider outside. Even the horses neighed nervously.

Soon, footsteps approached. Alfred had a sword under his cape. He whispered to Darian, " do not be afraid young master." Darian replied, " I am not."

A masked man in black opened the chariot door. " Step out now!"

Alfred stepped out and Darian was behind him. Alfred and darian scanned the scene with their eyes. There were about a dozen masked men in Black with swords that shone in the Sun light.

" What do you want? We will give you our money if you want that," Alfred said.

The men laughed in unison. One of them spoke, " if you don't want to loose your life today, let us have that little boy."

Alfred asked, " what do you want to do with him?"

The masked men laughed again. The man whose was speaking walked closer to Alfred. " You ask too many questions, old man. I am going to teach you a lesson."

The man made to punch Alfred. Alfred stopped him with one hand. The masked man wondered at the tightness of Alfred's grip. Before he could do anything, Alfred gave him a shove that floored the man after sending him a few metres away. When the man landed, he grabbed in pain. He could it hard to stand up. One of his comrades went to meet him.

Alfred took out his sword from his side. The long sword shine in the moonlight. He stood there waiting and watching.

Another masked man lunged at Alfred, a dagger glinting in his hand. But Alfred was faster. His hand, a blur of motion, shot out and struck the assassin's wrist with a sharp nerve strike. The dagger clattered to the ground as the man's arm went limp. The attacker stumbled back, clutching his numb hand in shock. Alfred used his sword to strike his hand. The man yelled as he sighted his own blood.

A half-dozen more assassins, came after Alfred. They surrounded Alfred and Darian, their movements silent and menacing. Alfred pushed Darian behind him, his body a shield.

"My Lord told me to protect the boy," Alfred's voice was low and calm, but his eyes were filled with a fierce determination Darian had never seen. "I intend to keep that promise."

The assassins moved in, attacking from all sides. Alfred’s movements were fluid and precise. He dodged a swinging sword with a graceful side-step, then used the momentum to deliver a powerful roundhouse kick to his opponent’s stomach. The man doubled over, gasping for air.

Another assassin, armed with two daggers, lunged forward. Alfred met him head-on, his movements a blur of defensive blocks. He used his forearm to deflect the daggers and, with a swift palm strike, hit the man under the chin. The attacker's head snapped back, and he fell unconscious.