Nanotechnology: The Last Prince Of Wales

In the manor, a suffocating silence fell as the news swept through like a storm. Tarwyn stormed into the room, his face a mask of incredulity and barely contained panic. His voice cut through the hushed whispers like a blade. "What in the blazes happened here?"

Pwyll, pale and trembling, clutched the edge of the table as if it were the only thing anchoring him. His voice was a mere quiver. "I... I saw it. He used a man... his body... like a weapon. He killed them all."

Tarwyn's eyes widened, disbelief etched in every line of his face. "Who!?"

Pwyll's gaze flicked to the floor, unable to meet Tarwyn's eyes. His words came out in a breathless murmur. "Lord Ieuan."

A heavy silence followed. Beca, standing at the edge of the room, felt a shiver crawl up her spine. Her thoughts spiraled into a chaotic whirlwind. Could it be true? Callwen's haunting words echoed in her mind.

Outside, the town square was a cauldron of rising fury. The guards hauled the battered remnants of the Bone Breakers, their faces bloodied and swollen, to the center of the square. A restless crowd gathered, their voices a low, menacing rumble.

One guard stepped forward, his voice cutting through the murmur. "These men have plagued our town for too long! Lord Ieuan has helped us put an end to their reign! Now, it's time we take back our streets!"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, growing louder, more fervent. Among them, a Bone Breaker clung desperately to Oswald's leg, his voice a wheeze. "Please... help me..."

Oswald's expression darkened, his jaw clenched as memories of pain and loss surged to the forefront. His voice trembled with fury. "You... you and your men destroyed my family... raped my mother... crippled her..." His hands shook as he clenched them into fists. "Because of you..." He raised his voice, his face contorted in rage. "Let them burn!"

The crowd's roar was deafening. They surged forward, dragging the Bone Breakers toward hastily constructed pyres. The flames licked the night sky, the screams of the burning men mingling with the townsfolk's shouts of vengeance.

The frenzy didn't end there. Fueled by years of fear and oppression, the crowd marched toward the gang's hideout. They set it ablaze, the fire consuming every remnant of the Bone Breakers' hold on the town. The heat of the flames mirrored the searing rage in their hearts.

Amid the chaos, Talog staggered through the alleys, his breath ragged, fear driving his every step. His body ached with the weight of his injuries, each footfall a reminder of his narrow escape. The night echoed with the cries of his men, but Talog dared not look back. He slipped into the shadows, the once-feared leader now a broken man fleeing from the very people he had once terrorized.

---

The cold night air wrapped around the small camp, heavy with the scent of earth and smoke from the flickering fire. Maredudd's group had made camp in a secluded patch of woods, far from the main road. The stars above barely penetrated the thick canopy, leaving the forest cast in a dark, eerie quiet. The only sounds were the crackling fire and the soft rustle of leaves in the wind.

Maredudd's eyes stayed on the horizon, though he didn't speak. His comrades—the four men, a woman and her companion, and him—were sharing what little food they had. The homeless companions they had picked up from the side of the road their faces gaunt and weary.

"I don't trust them," Idwal muttered under his breath to Maredudd, his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword as his eyes stayed trained on the two strangers. He had been watching them ever since they joined the them.

Maredudd sighed, rubbing his brow. "We'll share the road with them," he said, though his voice was tinged with doubt. He had seen too much suffering to ignore it. "They're our people. We can't leave them to starve."

Idwal's expression softened, but just for a moment. His hand never left his sword.

"They're not lying," Maredudd said, his voice full of quiet conviction. "Look at them. They're barely holding on."

The night passed uneventfully at first, the sounds of the forest and the crackling fire the only company. The group settled in, trying to get what little sleep they could. Maredudd's eyes were heavy, but soon passed out.

Idwal was on watch, his gaze darting to the shadows at every slight movement. The woman, her dark eyes gleaming in the firelight, stirred. She sat up, drawing closer to the fire, her thin fingers brushing the dirt from her clothes.

"I can't sleep," she murmured, her voice just above a whisper. Idwal didn't respond immediately, but his posture stiffened.

"You still hungry?" Idwal asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

She shook her head but didn't look away. Instead, she leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to something softer, more dangerous. "I'm not hungry," she said, her words like a whisper meant only for him. "How could i possibly eat more of your food..."

Idwal's eyes kept drifting toward the woman. She was young, her hair falling in messy waves around her face, she was attractive, and in the flickering firelight.

His gaze lingered too long, his thoughts wandering as he imagined what might lie beneath those tattered clothes. She's lost everything, he thought. A little comfort wouldn't hurt. He convinced himself it was a fair exchange; they'd fed her, after all.

The woman caught him staring. Her eyes, dark and piercing, met his. She didn't look away. Instead, she held his gaze, unflinching, unreadable. There was something unsettling about how calm she was. A woman who had seen her village destroyed should have been broken, but she wasn't.

Idwal said, feigning sympathy. "It must have been hard, losing everything like that."

She looked into the fire, her expression distant. "Harder than you can imagine."

He placed a hand on her knee, testing the waters. She didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Encouraged, he leaned in closer. "You're not bad looking," he murmured, his voice low. "Maybe I could help you forget, just for a while."

Her lips curled into a faint smile, a gesture that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Do you want to fuck me now?" she asked, her tone blunt, almost daring. Idwal froze, caught off guard by her forwardness.

Her calmness unnerved him. It wasn't right. Lust clouded his judgment. He chuckled, trying to regain his composure. "You ate most of our food. Wouldn't that be payment?"

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "Payment," she echoed, her voice a whisper, a promise.

Before Idwal could respond, she moved. Swiftly, she straddled him, pushing him down into the cold earth. His breath hitched, the heat of her body pressing against his chest. Her hands slid over him, firm but teasing, sending a surge of adrenaline through his veins. His heart pounded, his pulse quickening as desire clouded his judgment.

He growled, confusion and arousal tangling in his voice. "What are you—"

She silenced him with a kiss, her lips soft yet commanding. His resistance faltered as she deepened the kiss, her fingers tracing along his jawline, down to his neck. Idwal groaned, his body responding to the seductive pressure of her touch. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, lowering his guard completely.

Her lips left his, trailing down his neck, each kiss a tantalizing promise. The firelight flickered, casting a warm glow over their entwined forms. Idwal's eyes fluttered shut, lost in the moment, in the allure of her.

And then he felt it—a cold, sharp edge against his skin. His eyes snapped open, but it was too late. The blade gleamed in the firelight, the knife pressed against his throat. Panic surged as he realized the shift in her demeanor. The softness was gone, replaced by cold, calculated precision.

"No—" Idwal choked out, but the word was cut short as she plunged the knife into his neck. The first strike was quick, precise, the blade slicing through flesh with a sickening ease. Blood gushed from the wound, hot and fast, soaking the ground beneath him.

His hands flew to his throat, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood, but it was futile. She twisted the knife, deeper this time, ensuring the kill.

Blood bubbled from Idwal's mouth as he tried to scream, but all that emerged was a wet, gurgling sound. His body convulsed beneath her, his strength waning, life slipping away with each ragged breath.

She leaned in close, her lips brushing his ear. "Men are always so easy," she whispered.

Her companion—silent and cold—watched as she worked. The man stepped forward, his face expressionless, as he drew another knife from his boot.

The other two members of Maredudd's group didn't even have a chance to react before they were also taken. One was stabbed in the chest, his death swift and brutal. The other was silenced in the same moment, his throat cut so cleanly that the blood barely had time to spill.

Maredudd, oblivious, slept on.

But when the woman turned her eyes on him, they crept toward him, their movements as fluid as predators closing in on their prey. The man held a cloth to Maredudd's mouth forcing a cloth in his nose, making him unconscious.

"Are you sure its him!?" the man asked, his voice cold.

The woman's lips curled into a smile. "It's him," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "He's the one they called lord."