It Ends in Arinbara

Ibir ended his march through the sewers of Arinbara, his leather leggings slick with rancid water. The former prince glared at a sewer grate above him, and shifted his grip on his scimitar. Ibir's dreadlocks shook as red energy coursed around him, and traveled over his curved blade. With a vicious swing, he released a crimson wave of power, disintegrating the grate and dozens of bricks around it. Gasps came from the street above, and more arose as Ibir leaped to the surface.

"That's...Prince Ibir! The Scourge Prince is in the capital! Guards!" an old man cried out as he drew a dagger.

Ibir dashed forward and gutted the man, but no blood came; the scimitar's energies left its target a smoking corpse. As hundreds of feet pounded away from Ibir, the dark figure stalked towards a row of ancient trees that had been planted in the city long ago. The former prince touched the six closest ones in intervals, but grimaced as he heard chainmail-clad figures jog from around a street corner. A man with a peacock-feathered helm appeared with dozens of simpler-clad spearmen behind him, and shouted at Ibir.

"So it's true! You dare to return after the atrocities you and your father inflicted upon the kingdom? Is there no regret in your heart, Ibir?" the plume-helmed man asked.

The former prince pulled his hand away from the tree he touched, and rested his scimitar against his shoulder.

"You've become a faithless hound since I left, Captain Rofan. A good dog wags his tail when his master returns - but here you are, barking at the hand that fed you!"

Rofan shook, and took a menacing step forward.

"I never believed in you. I never wanted to kill defenseless civilians, all because you and king Orun saw treachery where there was naught but disgruntled, mistreated citizens! Enough. Your sentence was death when you escaped Arinbara, and that has not changed. Guardsmen, strike to kill - and watch out for his Arcana!"

Ibir raised his scimitar, and the trees he had touched glowed and rapidly grew. With a downwards swing of Ibir's blade, the branches shot out at the charging guards, entangling and constricting them.

"What? Since when can Arcana do that?!" Rofan screamed out as his armor strained against the branches.

Ibir waved his scimitar at Rofan in particular, and the captain's face turned purple as the former prince mocked him.

"Since I grew stronger-" Ibir wove his blade in a small circle, and Rofan became a bloodied pulp within the branches.
"Rofan."

Ibir turned towards the palace of Arinbara, the great dome a mere block away. The former prince swung his scimitar above him, and an enchanted branch scooped him from the streets up into the sky. With a stabbing motion, Ibir's branches twisted him towards the great dome, and lavishly-dressed figures stared in horror from one of the palace's balconies. Before the trees could slam into the balcony, another group of branches slammed into Ibir's own, and he struggled to stay standing. The former prince frantically looked around, and saw a blue-robed figure staring at him from a rising tree. Ibir took a deep breath, and shouted at the old man.

"Why?! Why intervene? Why get in my way? You have as much reason as I to take revenge, father!"
Orun, former master of Arinbara, sighed as he responded to his son.

"Ibir, please stop. We were not worthy rulers when we escaped punishment, and neither of us deserves to change Arinbara from the progress it has made in our absence. Come with me, and face punishment at the gallows."

Ibir stared in shock at his father. After a long moment of silence, he swung his scimitar in a horizontal arc, and the branches under his control shot forth at Orun. As the trees raced towards the former king, Ibir screamed in defiance.

"I do not know what has clouded your mind, but your only sin is betraying your own son, all for the sake of those who damned us both!"

An azure glow surrounded Orun, and he swung his double-edged sword in slow circles. Branches came from multiple directions to deflect Ibir's, yet the one the former prince stood upon made its way through the counterattack. Before Ibir's branch struck Orun's own, the former king leapt high up onto one that Ibir controlled. Orun set his palm against the tree, and a strange hum came from within it. Ibir attempted to strike his father with the branch, but it no longer obeyed the him. Ibir huffed in frustration, and sweat dripped from his brow as he forced his remaining branches to strike Orun. For a solid minute, Orun dodged Ibir's branches, and nullified each one, his breath growing more and more ragged after each use of power. Ibir leapt at his father in frustration, and tried to cleave at the former king. Orun parried his son's blade, and Ibir flew into another tree as a branch knocked into him from behind. Orun strained to constrict Ibir with a pair of branches, but the former prince blew crimson energy from himself, shattering the wood. Though the former prince gasped for air, he tugged himself up, and launched energy at his father with a vertical blow. Orun put up a shield of blue power, but all it defended him from was a ruse; Ibir leapt at his father, and struck through Orun's ankles with a savage sweep of his scimitar. The former king gave out an agonized wail, and dropped his sword as he rolled onto his tree. Ibir kicked his father in the gut, and gasped as he insulted the fallen man.

"Are you...ha...proud of your....power? Where did...ha...ha...it even come from? Compassion?"

As Ibir ranted, Orun set the gushing stumps of his legs against the flat of his fallen blade, and his flesh steamed as the sword glowed blue. Ibir hazily took notice of his father's act, and lifted his scimitar to strike. The former king brought his hands together, and grimaced as he responded to his son with a rasp.

"No. Regret."

Ibir's legs and arms were pulverized between eight branches. The former prince's voice broke into a high-pitched scream, and the enchanted trees carried the shattered man to his father's side. Orun's hand shook as he used his sword to cauterize his son's shattered limbs. The former king's tone was as even as he could manage as he guided the branch he and Ibir shared to a city block west of the capital.

"When I fled from Arinbara, my son...I hid who I was, and ventured through the villages that I once ruled. At first, I meant no more than to restock what I needed as I ventured further into exile but...in each village, I saw what my hand had done. For all of my rule, I believed that I had used Arcana to protect my people, that my stern policies and swift retribution to any voice of dissent was justified - but it was not. I abused my power, both as a king and a wielder of Arcana, and it showed in the soulless eyes and thin bodies that I saw in every town."

The branch gently dropped father and son onto a wooden platform, and Ibir's eyes went wide.

"Father, don't do this. I will repent, I see what you mean, carry us away - let me live!"

Ibir struggled to move his mangled limbs, but tears came instead. A group of citizens gathered on the stage. More than one held a rope, and hundreds of people gathered around the platform. They stared at their banished king with a mixture of fear, hate, and even acceptance. No one came forward as those on the stage tied ropes to the rack above.

"It is not our choice where or how we die, Ibir. It is the people's."