Inheritor of Strength (Book one of Alfireán age)

Dying Is Such a Pain

At least it looks like it's all right, Alfonso thought in relief. Turning back to Olivia he said, "I don't know. I can't think of one. But even then, the Emperor wouldn't believe us. When he came here, he probably traveled with his personal physician." He looked to Harold for confirmation, "And I bet The Emperor and his physician used Ra'avah on me, right?"

Harold nodded in affirmation.

"Then," Alfonso finished, "I'm sure they would have said something if they had seen anything abnormal."

Harold laid his hand on Alfonso's shoulder, "Your conclusion is feasible; on the other hand, there is one good reason we would lie to the Emperor."

"There is?" he asked.

"Yes, there is."

The noise around them dissipated as everyone in the courtyard froze in anticipation of Harold's answer. The workers rebuilding the crumbling wall paused. The healers leaning over the semi-frozen birds looked up, and the staff repairing the scarred landscape tilted their heads towards the ongoing discussion.

"And that reason is," Harold continued, "your family's political stance. As you well know, for generations the majority of the High Lords in the Empire have been trying to make it legal for them to claim any land as their own, to raise taxes to exorbitant levels, and to restrict who can do business. And worst of all, they are pushing to make it illegal for anyone who is not of noble lineage to use magic.

"Your family has single-handedly stopped this from happening for hundreds of years. Now that you are gone, there is nothing to stop them from achieving their goals. Which means the nobles can ill-afford having you come back to life."

Anger flashed over Olivia's delicate features, and steam rose from her hands as she clenched her fists. The red glow of fire flickered up her arms. "Those barbarians," she spat. "If they had their way, they'd live like kings while everyone else suffered in poverty."

Alfonso shivered at the genuine anger pouring off of Olivia. He knew she hated the political stance of the majority of the nobles. But what really cultivated her anger was how sick he had gotten the last time 'The Citizens' Protection Act' had come before the court. He had been summoned to the Imperial City, as per normal, to vote on the matter. In the very first day, with the help of several other individuals, he'd almost had the ludicrous law thrown out before it was even voted on—a law stating that 'the use of magic is strictly forbidden to anyone not sanctioned by the Empire.' Later that night, he'd come down with a rare, mysterious illness he supposedly contracted from being in such close quarters with so many people. Harold had rejected the help of all the physicians in the Imperial City, including the Emperor's own, and had had Olivia teleported in at great cost. The next day, they'd sustained him around-the-clock as he saw to casting down the act proposed by four other High Lords. It took him three months to recover from the ordeal. To this day, Olivia expressed her belief that if it hadn't been for the Emperor using his own bodyguard to teleport them home, Alfonso wouldn't have recovered.

Alfonso reached out and touched her hand, "Don't worry. I'm stronger now, and as long as I draw breath, I promise you I won't let them have their way."

The fire faded from Olivia's arms and she looked at him with her large brown eyes. Alfonso's chest ached. He would do anything to remove the fear and anxiety from her expression—fear that was solely for him. Before this incident, she had protected and sheltered him, but now he could protect her, and he would, till his very last breath.

"Officially, Alfonso, you are no longer breathing," Harold's voice interrupted his line of thought. "So you may not be able to stop them."

A heavy ambience pervaded the courtyard as the dire situation hit home. "Which means, even if the Emperor did believe he's Alfonso, the nobles never would," Olivia whispered.