Shattered Wicked Love

I scraped the intestine off my boot, kicking the corpse out of the way as I walked through the battlefield. Once a deep green, the grassy moor was now blood-soaked, and the smell of death lingered in the air. The harsh caw of the circling crows carried for miles, alerting others to the presence of rotting flesh below.
This was the fifth battle in the last three months where my army and I emerged victorious, conquering and taking over the cities.
The army I inherited from my father, Lord Seamus Wulfric.
Being his only son I, Royce Wulfric, inherited his title and lands after his death — a death I did not grieve very long.
My father, Seamus, had once been a great warrior and lord. However, after years of careless gambling and spending money on his mistress, Althea, my father's lands became run down, and the people turned against the Lord of Gally.
It has been five years now since I burned my father's body and five years since my eighteenth birthday. We spent the night celebrating, bouncing from one tavern to the next, only for my father to spend the next two days on a bender. A memory that haunted me:
"I see my father has taken my eighteenth birthday celebration a bit too seriously," I told Byron, my father's general. Although these days, he spoke with me more than the current lord. We sat at a table in the Kilt, a rundown tavern in the rougher part of Gally. Where whores, gambling, and drugs were the usual occurrence.
It was my father's favorite place to play cards. He sat across the room, playing a game, while his mistress, Althea, sat on his lap. He slid one hand up her gown while the other held his cards.
"He was going on day two of being drunk, and there is no end in sight," Byron replied.
"You can always say no," I suggested.
"Are you ready for another round?" my father hollered.
"I am," Phelan announced as he stood up from the table, holding his large pilsner of ale. Sloshes of liquid spilled over the brim, splashing onto the dirty wood floor.
I shook my head and grabbed Phelan's arm.
"Sit down, cousin," I said as I helped him into a chair.
Phelan grimaced and said, his words slurred, "I am in the mood for some ass."
"Alright." I nodded and looked around to see what ladies were free.
I pointed across the room.
"I see Bridgette over there."
The blonde woman, who was not much older than me, made eye contact and smiled. I crooked my finger and summoned her over.
"Royce." she smiled as she slid into my lap.
Her gown was cut, so it hung dangerously low off her shoulders, exposing the tops of her generous breasts. I wrapped my hand around her waist.
"Phelan needs some company," I told her.
"Oh Royce, it's your birthday. I was hoping to give you a freebie," she whined.
"It was my birthday," I corrected her
"Awe, Royce, you are so boring nowadays," Phelan whined.
Byron stared at me, and we shared a knowing look.
"Let's go!" my father shouted, slamming his hand on the table as Althea kissed his neck.
I looked up at Bridgette and said, "I think I will take you up on that offer."
Her face lit up, and she stood squealing. I followed her lead and stood up as well.
"Find a woman to keep yourself company," I told Phelan.
"You two good-looking young men don't need to be buying ladies," Althea said as she walked across the room to stand beside Bridgette.
I glanced at my father's mistress, who had taken residence in the manor the last two years. Not even a full four months after my mother's death, my father had her move in. The one time Althea attempted to act motherly toward me was the last. I grabbed Bridgette's hand and walked away, ignoring Althea. Two hours later, as I walked down the dark hall in the back of the Kilt tavern, I heard shouting, and the voice was my father.
I quickened my pace, and just as I turned the corner to enter the bar, I heard a man shout.
"Fucking Seamus, you cheat!"
"You calling me a cheat, you bastard?" my father shouted.
As I approached the table, I saw Byron step between the man and my father.
"Calm down!" Byron hollered, placing a hand on each man's chest.
"Calm down. This bastard has cheated me for the last time."
I heard my father's arrogant laugh fill the tavern, and then the man pushed Althea, sending her stumbling back until she hit the floor.
"You son of a bitch!" my father shouted as Byron huffed, bending over to help Althea up.
I then saw the knife as it swung around.
"Father!" I shouted.
He turned toward me, smiling, and a second later, the blade plunged into the side of his neck. My father's eyes met mine, and he stumbled forward. Screams traveled through the small tavern as his artery spurted blood out onto the surrounding men and table. I reached for my father, catching him just as his body fell forward. I fell to the floor, holding him as he bled to death, his eyes locked with mine.
"Royce, my boy?" he whispered as the last breath left his body.



The day we burned him engraved itself into the back of my mind like a constant reminder of who I would never become: a weak man who allows addiction and women to control his life. I remember the exact words Byron, my father's general, said to me as we placed our torches upon the pyre Lord Seamus Wulfric rested on.
"Such a waste. Such a shame to witness a once great man leave the world in this way," Byron said.
"I will be greater than my father ever was. I will not let women, gambling, or drinking cloud my mind. I will fight until the kingdom is mine," I vowed.
The words hit me like a hammer against a rock, splitting my mind and heart. Then the reality of what the bastard left me set in: a fallen city, a rundown estate, and a crazy mistress whom I eventually banished from Gally.
"How can you do this? Where will I go?" Althea sobbed, clinging to my arm.
She dressed in black to mourn my father.
"You are a whore, and you are the reason he fell so far from where he started," I hissed at her, ripping my arm from her grasp.
"Please, Royce." She fell to her knees, clasping her hands in prayer.
"It is Lord Wulfric!" I shouted, grabbing her arm and yanking her to her feet.
I tossed her toward Byron and screamed, "Get this bitch out of my home and out of my city!" I pointed at her.
I turned away as Byron escorted her out of Wulfric manor.
My cousin Phelan stood in the doorway watching.
"Royce," he whispered.
"Say nothing," I spat at him. "Nothing,"
I turned and looked at my cousin.
"I will never allow another woman to step foot in this home unless she is here to fuck me or work for me."
I stayed true to my vow, too. I remember the hate in my heart that day, creating a new version of me.