The Tales of Miriela: Shadowborn

Chapter 45: Vicar Alaine

The men stood frozen, unsure of what to do. The surname of Alaine was know everywhere. They had been commanders of the Vanguard several generations, and were known as some of the most talent swordsman in history. But before Vicar could get to close, the guards put down their swords and turned the levers to open the great iron gate.

The looked at him with hatred, disgusted eyes that wished Vicar death. As the gate opened, there was a single man who stood on the other side waiting. He was dressed in armor, different from the guards. His amour was that of a commander, and Vicar felt he knew exactly who the man was.

"I heard the name of Alaine at my gate. The last time I heard those words I was in my youth, fighting Breudith Alaine in the fields," The man said.

"Breudith was my grandfather," Vicar responded.

"Which makes you Vicar," The man said. Vicar responded with a simple nod.

"My name is Peter Seraphim, Commander of the Highland Army. And so I must ask you then, Vicar, what should I make of the Vanguard Commander arriving at my gates?" Peter asked.

"I carry with me orders from the king. I must speak with Lady Emerick, the news is urgent," Vicar said. Peter looked down towards the dirt. He was much older than Vicar. His head was nearly bald, though a few grey hairs remained. His face was withered and dry. His lips were crackled and his voice was rough. His armor was mighty, but Vicar could tell it no longer housed a mighty man.

"Why not send a raven? The flight of a bird is much quicker than travel of a man and his horse," Peter asked.

"So that you could discard it? Like you have with any other raven's message that has come from Ferenor?" Vicar asked.

"Fine. I will permit you to speak with Lady Emerick. But only under my watch," Peter said with a sharp glare. "Leave your horse with my men. This way." Peter turned and started his walk into the city.

Vicar followed behind, as they traveled Highland's cobblestone streets. Vicar had never set foot in the city before, he was surprised at how similar it felt to Ferenor. Peter did not say another word until they reached what appeared to be the keep.

"I take it you understand the Queen's condition?" Peter asked.

"I do," Vicar responded.

"Well, you are about to see for yourself why those raven's letters were never returned," Peter said.

The two entered into the keep and found a woman sitting upon a throne, the room nearly empty. She was mumbling something, not quite loud enough to hear, but Vicar could see her lips moving without direction. Her eyes were stuck in a gaze, somewhere between life and death. She sat with noble posture, her back straight, arms rested about the throne, and her neck tall. Light poured in from the few windows that weren't covered with drapes. It was a strange throne room, far less celebrated of a throne than Vicar had ever seen.

"My Queen," Peter said. But Meriam Emerick did not respond. "My Queen," He repeated himself, this time much louder. Yet the woman on the throne remained in her trance, as if she was entirely unaware of their presence. Peter took a few steps forward and tried a third time.

"Queen Emerick, the Commander of the Vanguard Royal has brought a message from Kline Wullmont." Peter approached even closer, until he stood beside his queen at the throne. Vicar followed, taking a few steps closer, though still far enough that he could not hear the whispers that Peter delivered to Lady Emerick's ear.

Though, the queen's response was plenty obvious. As soon as Peter was done speaking, she seemed to return to reality. Her gaze into the abyss had halted as she loudly spoke.