DRAFT Mirys: The Green Prince I

Chapter Three: Serpent's Maw

Alabos Hold is nestled into the mountains. The Mountains that stretch up into the sky, towering over the castle in large points, like some great entity pinched up the ground as if it was nothing more than dough. They reach so high into the sky that they rake like fingers through the clouds; thus these mountains are often nicknamed 'Willow-Man's Claws.' Running from these mountains, past the castle and down towards the coast is a massive river of icy water, fittingly named 'Serpent's Maw.' The sky wrapping around Willow-Man's Claws was grey, and the clouds thick and heavy with the overhanging promise of rain.

For all the pointed spires of Willow-Man's Claws behind it, Alabos Hold itself is quite flat in its rooves and balconies. There was much open space, and the castle was built in levels. Tall stone walls, straight wells of stone stairs. Circular towers with arched windows and flat rooves, save for crenelations. The flat stone rooves of some buildings acted as a balcony or walkway for the floor above. The castle had one pointed roof: the dark form of the pointed peak marking the building where all the living is done inside. The other buildings and even the towers all had flat rooves, and the farther back in the castle you went, the more stairs you had to climb. You could see every part of the castle from the bottom of the hill, for each part behind the other was risen up the mountain. Not so far as to be detached, but it created a tall and strong figure, like the castle was looming above you for miles. Discouraging to attackers, but also to any who came to visit.

The castle sorely lacked any decoration or artwork on the outside, much to the displeasure of neighboring peasants and visiting royalty alike. Even passing merchants would whisper to each other about the bland-looking castle— for all the color, music, and liveliness inside, the outside was dark, imposing, and solid. It looked much like an idea rather than a real thing to exist. Like something you could never reach, no matter how hard you tried. There was a dirt road that transitioned to gravel, then cobblestones the closer you got to the castle. The road was paved and sloped to allow entrance for carts and wagons, but even the surrounding citizens had little to do at the castle, unless a party was being held. Even from outside the city's vast walls, you could see the castle. A statement. A taunt to all outside, daring you to seek it out. Daring you to find a weakness in its strong stature.

These were things Kessian never noticed about his city before. Now it was all he could think of when he saw it, kneeling in the mud by the outcropping of roots and soil by the river bank. Cold, icy water rushed past them only a few feet away, but Kessian couldn't focus on the water and how Jorgoff continually claimed it to be relaxing to dabble in. No, Kessian could hardly tear his eyes from the dark spot on the mountain that was Alabos city.

Kessian had fallen into oblivion on Yetsh's shoulder. He found himself lying in this muddy alcove when he awoke, Jorgoff sitting in stunned and grim silence nearby. Yetsh was nowhere to be seen, and when he asked, Jorgoff explained that she went to get a small boat. Now the Prince rubbed at his pounding head, staring over the alcove at the city in the distance. Jorgoff had his fabric shoes off and was splashing around in the edge of the freezing water, but dared not wade deeper than his shins. Even on the banks the current was strong, a mere whisper of how easily the water could sweep away the sturdiest building. "Lord Kessian, truly, just step in and let your worries flow away with the water!" Jorgoff encouraged for the fifth time.

"I will not, Jorgoff! Cease your gibbering about the water!" Kessian hissed, turning and sitting down with a rub at his aching head, briefly closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the pounding. "It's been a full Sun Face, where in Oldel's name is Yetsh?" he grumbled, setting on a pointless venture to try rubbing the mud out of his silk hose. Jorgoff stopped kicking at the water, turning to stare fretfully in the city's direction. "What if they got to her?"

"Nonsense, Jorgoff," Kessian scoffed, drawing his cloak tail in front of him to squeeze out mud clumps. "Yetsh is one of the best knights in Gressyk. Hence why she's my personal guard. It's not just a display of formality, Jorgoff. Who would need the better guards more: my stubborn older siblings or the "poor young ones who can't fight?"" Kessian pulled his face into a crude and inexperienced pout, batting his eyes.