Overrun (Draft)

I | Serena

       Perched on the third tallest steeple of the castle's west towers, she could see everything. The slight breeze tugged at the loose strands of ebony that had managed to escape her plait. Albeit temporarily losing her focus, she never skipped a heartbeat to survey the land below her.
      Down below, the courtyard teemed with life. Maids and stable boys scurried to and fro like chickens at feeding time. She could see the details of the city outside the gates well. Its crude outline alone looked like a reptile sunbathing on the mountain's side. The rest of her kingdom was hidden behind a barricade of mountains. She knew what was out there, though. Endless miles of marshland and bogs.
      Carefully, she eased back onto the worn tiles shielding the roof and allowed herself to remember the first time she had ventured up to the tower.
      "Aye, the sun dies," Aetios had told her. "Good riddance to it, too."
      "What kills the sun?" She had asked.
      "The Montanes say that deceased Imperials do, to punish them," Aetios said. She remembered how his eyes grew dark then. "The sun dies because the mountains devour it. The mountains over yonder grew fat and dull once the Montanes inhabited them. But ours are still sharp and thin because we are strong. Then again, Montanes make up stories to hide from science."
      "I've never seen a mountain eat a sun," she said.
      Aetios had shot her an annoyed glare then. His eyes reminded her much of a cat. "You climb the highest you can, and the westerly mountains shall swallow it whole. Now be off with you—I'm growing vexed by your questions."
      She smiled now. Although she had long since passed the idea of hungry rock piles as fact, she had found a new hobby to occupy her time spent here.
Slowly, she spread her fingers over the surface of the roof and gripped the securest tile she could find. And cautiously, with wobbling knees, she drew herself to her full height. The wind picked up and died down at intervals, which made her beige underskirts billow around her legs.
      "Nary have I seen such a soul as foolish as yours!" Aetios' crude dialect and condescending tone nearly made her lose her balance.
      "That's odd, because I've heard that your Montane fellows have brains like molasses!" She shot back at him. She could pinpoint where he was now, sitting on the roof of a parapet thirty feet below her.
      His blond hair was unkempt and blew over his eyes, partiallycovering the snarl that had contorted his face. "Is this how you repay me, miss? Seventeen years have I looked after you, and you continue to insult me day and night."
      "My apologies," she called over the howling wind. Shame colored her ears and she sat down. "You did not come here to make idle chatter, though. What is it?"
      "I heard that a few Halfbloods have come out of hiding just a few rotations ago," Aetios said. He twirled a strand of his tawny hair absentmindedly while his piercing eyes remained fixated on hers.
      "Not again!" She threw her weight against the roof in short-lived exasperation. A few shingles fell and bounced off the stables' roofs, and the sound of grating stone ignited a spark of common sense inside her brain. "Aetios, I just want a week away from riding. Is that so much to ask for?"
      "Woe is the man who tells Lord Matteo," Aetios said cynically, a smirk stretched across his face. He turned his head to look at the city before him. "Don't be daft, miss. It's only a village, not your life."
      Her choices were dwindling with every excuse she made.
      Then Aetios cringed. It was hardly noticeable under a less than observant glance, just a slight twist of his face as his shoulders tensed. He often got those at the most random of times, and would never explain what caused them. Well, no matter.
      She glanced at the small expanse of red wedged between two mountain peaks. The mesas would be the last thing the sun touched before it disappeared into the west.
     "How much time do I have until I have to leave?"
      "Two rotations," said Aetios. "You're to take a heavy steed and—"
      "What!?" She was infuriated with the proposition. A horse like that would only hinder her from speedily completing the mission. Not to mention it would be impossible to remain concealed with a brute of that size.
      "—and return within three rotations carrying the two Halfblood children," Aetios continued. "Two guards shall accompany you."
      "That's impossible!" She was ready to strangle him. But, with great effort, she managed to control her frustration. "Where is this blasted village?" She asked.
      "Serena, you can't expect me to know everything," he said. His mouth twisted to reveal a smirk full of yellowed teeth. "You should report to Lord Matteo if you want to know that."
      Then he stood to his full height. His shoulders were bony and slouched and lacked the powerful Montane look that they were supposed to possess. He reminded her of a malnourished lion.
      "Do you need me to help you down?" Aetios asked.
      "I got up here myself," Serena said indignantly. "I can make my way down."
      "Yes, by falling the height of four Montanes," he said dryly. "Not to mention that will only get you to the parapet. Honestly, miss, I'm surprised you haven't gotten yourself killed!"
      Serena raised her eyebrows in a sarcastic manner, wanting to tell him off but deciding against it. Instead she slid down to the very edge of the roof. Her slim fingers dug into the hardened clay tiles. The wind was picking up again.
      "How do you even get up here, miss?" Aetios asked, bewildered. His eyes were golden saucers, freshly polished with apprehension.
      Serena laughed. "A Montane scared of heights. What are you doing up here, then!"
      "I'm an Imperial, born and bred," he shot back. "And, at any rate, I just tend to avoid situations where I might bloody the courtyard with my entrails."
      Serena made a disbelieving noise. Blond Aetios—an Imperial! Then, with skill only achieved by countless hours of practice, she twisted her body around so that her stomach was pressed against the edge of the roof. And, with not even the slightest of hesitations, even as the wind picked up and tossed her skirts, she fell.
      The fall was short-lived.
      Serena's hands scrabbled at the hewn stone until, about the height of a tall Imperial down, they collided against a rough platform jutting out of the tower wall. The platform itself was a length of hewn stone measuring about two feet, and jutted into the sky about three feet.
      Aetios' angry cry woke Serena out of her adrenaline-induced high, and she pulled herself up into a sitting position on the stone. Before Aetios could reprimand her, however, she rolled into the tower through the window and landed gracefully on the spiraling stairwell. The inside of the tower was dimly lit and glowed orange with torchlight. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees, and Serena quickly made her way down into the courtyard.
      With the last turn of the steps, she could see into the busy courtyard. The stable boys