Paper Crowns [On Hold]

[10.3] Ogre the Ugly

Sal liked to think street scum like him had no boundaries or limitations. Impossible was nothing but a foreign word for his kind. That's what he thought, at least; but it wasn't what he believed. Somewhere, the realist in him kept a list of events that were most certainly 'impossible'.

Amongst the items on that list, the most impossible was, without a doubt, the last one. The one about running away hand in hand with Calnoiva's Crown Prince, all whilst being a qualified Archmage and- to top it off, having both Lord Alistair and Wolf's blessings.

That one was truly the most absurd and 'impossible' of all. Even a mage of Sal's caliber could not cast a spell or brew a potion for that.

And yet, that was exactly what he had done mere months ago. Though the raging war between Elm and Calnoiva would have to take credit for making the impossible possible.

Shortly after the devastating events of the ball for Elm two years ago, the two countries had opened fire on one another. Initially, Elm was only defending. All it took was the complete pillaging and annihilation of one too many villages before Elm became a bloodthirsty beast in its own right.

Lord Alistair immediately foresaw the severity of the situation and took steps accordingly to protect Mathias. Sal's mage training was accelerated and he was given additional combat training with Wolf.

Wolf was as ruthless as Sal had predicted. The Crystal Paladin definitely took the opportunity to exact the tiniest bit of payback for that punch on the jaw all those years ago.

Alistair and Wolf both recognized the danger to Mathias life had he stayed at the castle. It wasn't Elm that was a threat to the Prince's life, it was his own father.

King Artemis had long since made his distaste for Mathias clear, citing on many occasions his great desire for his nephew, a foul-mouthed pig mirroring Artemis, to be the next King. Of course, that wasn't how the Crown worked.

With all the chaos the war had brought, it was no secret the King would manipulate the disorder of the country to dispose of his own son. He'd have played it off as an Elm attack and promptly placed his nephew in Mathias' position, all while pretending to mourn a son whose very face he couldn't stand to look at.

All of this led Sal to where he was now, perched cautiously on the mortar windowsill of their room at the town inn. Not a town in Calnoiva- or even Elm, but further away, in the country of Grinlo.

His mind was racing and he couldn't stop his fingers from drumming on the wall. Sal glanced towards the bed, relieved to find Mathias sound asleep. He knew the Prince would be in bed, he had checked mere moments ago after all. But somehow, looking at Mathias stilled Sal's mind and strengthened his resolve.

Sal reached for the grip of his sword, running his fingers over the intricate design on the guard. The sword was crafted especially to Sal's combat style, by the most skilled blacksmith in Calnoiva- at the request of Lord Alistair. Yet, he didn't know if he could keep Mathias safe, even armed with a weapon so powerful. The fact was killing him.

Mathias had to live. For Calnoiva's sake... for Sal's sake, he had to live.

"You know I can't sleep when you hover around the room like that. Stop being so melodramatic and get over here already, otherwise, I won't get any sleep," Mathias mumbled as he shifted in his sheets.

A small smirk spread across Sal's face.

"What? Is the Prince really such a baby?"

Mathias simply patted the spot next to him. Wordlessly, Sal stripped off his coat and climbed in, the sword still hanging around his waist.