The ride through the city was uncomfortable. The sun was naked in the morning sky inviting hordes of fruit flies, bloodthirsty mosquitos, and stomach cringing smells. He wished he had brought along one of Walta's fans to wave away the pestilence and cool off his sweaty face. To add on to his annoyance he had to walk Rome instead of ride him.
People were leaving. Piles of their most valuable possessions sat tied upon carts and wagons. Children cried to be leaving behind their homes and friends while women for the first time ever glued their lips shut. Men from all parts of the kingdom furrowed their eyebrows and shouted at one another as if it was their fault for their present situation.
Alsin spotted a lot of armsmen who he had saw sign their names on the quest roster. He grunted seeing they had managed to snap back into their senses and found 100 peeks to pay bail. Eyes of disgrace and heads shook at Alsin knowing he had signed up and chose to bail and disgrace his royal title. He could care less about the consequences. Already he was poor so what more could the king do to him?
Kill you, the thought popped into his head. He groaned and swiped at a stubborn fly.
When his father did his campaigns against King Edrich Von, warning the people about the man behind the mask, money slipped from their savings in chunks. The worst part, his father had no supporting evidence to back his crazy claims. This led Edrich to take everything from his family; their stone house in the hills, his father's physician license and job, all of Alsin's personal savings for his education in carpentry, and his family's dignity.
The painstaking results left them poorer than poor and by the time Alsin was sixteen, Walta finally took them in to live off of her small savings. He had to drop school and find work until a representative from Edrich's army recruit convinced him to join.
His father hated the idea having no respect for the king's army because unlike the citizens, the army had to abide by the king at all cost. There was no true freedom being in Terra's army and Alsin found that out the hard way. He had seen and committed acts he regretted and gave him nightmares. Plus, their teachings separated him from those of his father's and it was difficult balancing the two sides. Once he mistakenly told his father that there was nothing wrong with the king and that he had met him plenty of times and even had dinner with him. His father didn't speak to him for weeks.
Alsin checked the interior pockets of his jerkin to make sure his money hadn't fallen out. The word stupid kept chanting in the back of his head that forced his feet to move faster. To avoid the hold up in the crowd moving north, he thought to take a short cut. He took a sharp turn into an alley occupied by a few people and stray pets. He continued, traveling through alleys and narrow streets letting his mind float off to the mistake he had made four weeks ago.
Somehow, he managed to become convinced to join the convoys. If it wasn't King Edrich and his need for vengeance it had to have been Princess Javana. She was a goddess. His heart always fluttered when her name popped up or her pretty face appeared in his vision. Forget the Athenian sword and the anointed king reward, what he wanted was her. It was obvious that she favored him. A piece of his soul danced whenever she was in his presence and his imagination cuts wild.
Someone whistled behind him. Alsin halted, all thoughts vaporizing into the muffled drums of his heartbeat. He turned to face the meddler, but no one was there. Hand firm on his sword, he narrowed his eyes, glancing side to side and up and down.
Rome stirred and his body shifted uncomfortably. A boot clicked the ground. Alsin unsheathed his sword to fight the pest who thought it best to mess with a knight. The cloaked figure stood to his right, behind his sword arm. Alsin's breath left his body as his eyes scanned upwards, cranking his neck back from the mysterious person's great height. The face was nowhere to be seen beneath the hood. Actually, not a single body part could be seen, only the cloak hung in the air. Alive and moving.
The invisible hands grabbed his sword hand and jerked the hilt from his grip. The motion was strong and too swift for him to respond. His heart squirmed up his throat while he tried to catch his balance. Eyes still locked on the faceless figure, the air rushed towards him and a rock hard fist socked him into the darkness.
"Mother. Mother," he groaned. "Father...Walta? Am I dead? Please, gods, let me be dead."
Thin beams of a setting sun peered into his squinted eyes. The entire right side of his face throbbed and a yawn escaped him. Slowly, he propped himself up and a horse sniffed his face.
"Mmhm, Rome. Is that you?"
The horse neighed and shook his head. Alsin groaned and massaged his face. "What happened?"
No one answered except the signifying sun. A patched black furred cat scrambled by and leaped into a gaping hole between two buildings. He peered at his surroundings and wondered how did he end up in an alley? He spotted his sword sitting lifeless a few inches away from him. All at once, his memory flooded back.
The cloaked figure-invisible person- had attacked him.
He held his breath and felt his jerkin. When no lumps pressed his hands, he fumbled his clothing in panic. Alsin stripped off the jerkin and shook it as if the full pouches of money would reappear and splatter about the ground.
"No," he whimpered. "Damn thief! Stole my peeks! Let Khaal send you to hell!"
Rome stomped around as if joining him in his moment of anger. Fire ignited in his chest and spread about his body. The world around him spun, zoomed in and zoomed out, transformed through the many colors of the rainbow in his watery sight. He flung his arms around, kicked whatever that was unfortunately nearby, shouted curses to the gods and to the losers in his kingdom, and smashed a fist into a palm imagining it was the thief's face.
"If only I wasn't spooked, I'd had him," he shouted to Rome. The horse simply clicked a hoof. He paced the area and skimmed the ground hoping the pouches would magically appear. "I wish I got 'im. Good gods it's evenin'. What the bastard do drug me too? Fut, Rome! Fut the damn fool. Why didn't you do anything?"
Alsin stood idol for a minute tapping his chin trying to concoct some type of plan. How will he get out of the quest now? What type of lie would be credible enough to get him a loan from Citrus? Suicide...the Berub's taunting voice suggested to his sub-conscious. What of the migration peeks? Although, he and Walta were not planning to leave, they surely can't leave now.
"What to do?" He couldn't help but sob. No one was around and if there were, they'd only claim he was growing mad like his father.
Then it hit him, his father. Walta did seem assuring when she mentioned Alsin to see his old man. He fumbled around his clothing and the jerkin to find the letter. When it didn't unveil itself, Alsin cursed the thief for stealing it. He tried picturing the person again. His eyes were great when it came to helping his memory. But when his eyes refocused on the spot where the figure stood, they saw no face or body. Realization overwhelmed him. The only place where magic still existed, but it's hard to come by was the Dauntless Mountains.
Why would a demonic creature want to terrorize him and the summer hadn't arrived yet? That was the question floating in his head. What if it was all in the mind and he actually did see the person, but the attack happened so fast, it was hard to see his face?
"Yeah, that's it. It has to be," he muttered.
Rome bobbed his head as if agreeing. It treaded forward again, at the same time kicking an empty glass rum bottle. That's when Alsin spotted it- the letter. Stealthily, he kneeled to peer closer at the rum bottle. "That demonic bastard," he muttered and picked it up.
The yellow parchment hung halfway out of the tube. Alsin knew for sure this was the thief's doing. He scrunched his nose, snatched his precious letter from the foul creation, and made sure it wasn't ruined. He stood to his full height and took the time to regain his bearings.
The sun had started to set which meant he'd been unconscious for an entire day. This enhanced his suspicions that drugs were put into his system. His stomach clenched, but wasn't growling that it was hungry. He crawled into his jerkin, tucked away the scroll, sheathed his great sword, and mounted Rome. He had until nightfall hopefully to pay his bail to Sir Citrus. Now he must head to the prison to see his father.
The Terra Prison was a black speck sitting in a sea of green grass to the far west, behind the pure white palace. Like the palace, moat and a wall surrounded the building. Only one entrance and exit was privileged and most of the cells were dug below ground.
As he traveled to the prison, the right side of his face throbbed causing him to shift his buttocks in the saddle a few times. By the time he was admitted inside, it grew numbed and it was hard to see out of his right eye. Gently, he touched the area and grated his teeth in pain. He had to get it checked out so he sought the prison's main physician. The guard didn't seem pleased to be talking to him and refused his request.
He didn't argue- for he had plan B.
Another guard, which he was thankful for, led him down a few flights of stairs and through a tight hallway. Smells of bodily excretions, heat, dirt, and mold violated Alsin's nose making him choke on every inhale. Prisoners broke wild with noise throwing their slinging arms out of their bars trying to grab hold of his clothes and wavy hair. Individual lanterns and torches hung from ceilings and walls, but were useless in bringing life to the damp enclosure.
They walked for what seemed hours until the guard stopped at a cell at the end of two adjoined halls. The noise continued and guards walked by sighing in boredom.
"You have a half hour," the guard said unlocking the cell's entrance.
Alsin swallowed and combed his hair from his face. His upper teeth nibbled on his bottom lip as he squinted into the darkness for that familiar face. The guard stepped to the side and nudged his head for him to enter.
A new pressure weighed on his shoulder on top of the blistering heat. It has been a long time since he'd seen his father and now here he was lying asleep in the cot against the far wall. Once he stood idol within the bars, the guard hung a lantern closer to brighten the cell.
A scruffy fat rat indulged itself to the untouched contents on a tray sitting on a knee length table next to the wall on his right. Alsin stomped his feet in its direction and the rodent scurried away into a hole hidden in the darkness.
He sniffled and blinked a few times to hold back his wavering emotions. "Father," he croaked and went to kneel by the cot to wake him.
The man tensed from his touch. Alsin noticed how thin he was and shook him cautiously to prevent breaking a bone. "Father, wake up. It's me, Alsindad."
"Alsin," a voice muttered. The man slowly shifted onto his back and peered familiar green eyes at him. A scruffy yellow beard had conquered his dirty face, but those eyes still possessed their normal fire. He cracked a smile, "There he is."
Alsin gave a faint chuckle, a tear escaped and wiggled down his puffed face. Allen Frasier turned concerned, with great speed placed his bare feet on the floor, and rose. He took Alsin's face into his hands and gasped.
"Great gods what happened to your face?"
"I...um," he sighed.
His father's intelligent eyes scanned his face and body language. His rough hands touched the swollen area with great care, mentally assessing the injury. "I need to bleed this now."
The physician in his old man spurred to life. He jumped to his feet and shuffled towards the bars. The lantern's light showed Alsin his faded breeches and dirty shirt and he regretted visiting without bringing any fresh clothing.
"Barson! Barson!" Allen shouted down the two halls. "Barson! Where are you?"
Someone nearby shouted for him to shut up. That made Alsin chuckle and shake his head. He repositioned himself to sit on the squeaky metal cot and gazed at his father in silence.
Finally, a potbellied guard approached and raised his lantern. "What Allen? What you want?"
"Can you get me a knife to borrow?"
"What for?"
"My son's face is swollen. I need to bleed it out. Can you help me?"
The guard dragged a sigh and glanced down both halls. "Alright, but I have to supervise you."
"No problem. Can you get me some hot water, a cup of grog, a few rags, and some arnica cream?"
"Hey, Allen, that's a bit too much."
"Please, Barson," he pleaded.
The guard stood for a while, looked from Allen to Alsin, and nodded. He trudged off.
"So how is Walta?" Allen jumped into a new conversation. He scurried to the knee length table and placed the tray on the floor. He pulled it in front of Alsin before taking a seat beside him.
"She's okay- her usual self."
"Things going well financially?"
"I guess so," he said thinking about the money the thief stole.
He nodded feverishly to the point Alsin worried his head would fly off his tiny neck. Alsin furrowed his eyebrows, "Father, you've thinned out. Have they been treatin' you well?"
"Trea-ting, Alsindad. Oh you are picking up Walta's talk," he chuckled.
He grinned and shrugged, "The woman's free spirited and I like that."
"Yeah. Well, Barson's good to me. But they treat me like everyone else I suppose."
"I won't ask about the food."
"Yuck," he made a face and laughed it off, "You get used to it. So what's happened to your face?"
"Huh, I got robbed."
His eyebrows shot up, "Robbed? Did you report it to authorities?"
His cheeks grew hot, "Well, I am the authorities..."
"Oh. Right," his father said his high tone dropping into a sad whisper.
"Y-you know. I doubt they'd care. I'm fine. Really."
Silence followed for a second letting the reason for the people's dislike of the Frasier's float in the air.
"You must be careful, son. I don't want anything to happen to you."
"Yeah. It's just strange. I mean- the thief was strange."
"How do you mean?"
He searched his father's eyes wondering whether to tell him the truth. Humbleness and love exploited from his face and his smile brought back many fun memories.
"I don't know what I saw really."
"Tell,"
"I'm probably just stressed a bit."
"What did your eyes see, son?"
The way he asked that question made his eyes dry up like a raisin. He couldn't feel one half of his face and hiding somewhere in the back of his head was an ache. Alsin searched his father's face and tensed.
"There was a figure but...," he whispered.
"But the person was invisible?" Allen said, with a hint of knowing something Alsin didn't.
Alsin hated when his father did that. The man always could finish his sentences or guess the unknown correctly. He gazed as his father with amazement, "How'd you know?"
Allen looked thoughtful and opened his mouth to say something, but Barson returned. For him to be a big man he managed to get everything in a matter of a few minutes. He unlocked the entrance and slid it open. Allen ran to retrieve the items and set everything up neat and precise of its necessity. Once all was too his liking, he took Barson's lantern and made Alsin hold it while he dipped a rag into the boiling water and washed his grimy hands.
He placed the small knife into the scorching water and wrapped the used clothe around his left hand. "You're a big boy now. So this won't hurt."
"That's what you think," Alsin said, eyeing the knife in the water.
Allen handed him the cup of grog, which Alsin sniffed and regretted doing so. "You're tryin' to kill me, arrn't you?"
His father glanced at him hearing the slurred words, but refrained from pointing them out. He took the red scorched knife, placed his wrapped hand beside his swollen eye, and nodded for him to drink the grog.
Alsin held his breath and chucked the nasty lumped drink. The residue on his tongue tasted like tar and a ton of earwax. His stomach churned disapprovingly, but under his skin grew warm. A hiccup escaped and his shoulders slouched from the shot of rum. With skilled hands, the physician sliced a thin curved line down the side of the swollen eye.
He winced from the pinch, but after his father let the inflammation drain, it started to scream. Alsin clenched his teeth together and kept his eyes on his father's nose. The injury was wiped clean with hot damped rags then Allen picked up a tiny bowl of yellow substance.
"What's that? Never 'member you usin' that before."
"Arnica. It's from the sunflower family. It helps with wounds and inflammations. It's the cheapest thing the prison can buy because of the flower plains further west."
"Oh, I see."
His father rubbed the ointment onto his face. Alsin's vision returned in his right eye along with the pain. He prepared himself to drink the last bit of grog. Although, it was disgusting the relief it brought was welcoming.
Allen had Barson take everything away before he brought up the quest. "You fell for Von's persuasions, I see." No response came from the guilty son. "Have you come to your senses yet or do you really want to do this quest from the bottom of your heart?"
He shrugged, "I don't really have a choice now." Night had to have fallen by now which meant the deadline was officially over. "The robber took my money I was going to pay for bail. And I wasn't expectin' to be here long."
"I see," Allen said a shriek of grief spreading across his face. They sat in silence for the unknown fate of Alsindad Larius. Guilt for not taking heed to his father's warnings glued his lips sealed.
He deserved this. As much as he loved his father, he should've soaked in his family pride like he'd done when he was younger, and he wouldn't be in this situation.
"I'm sorry, father."
"For what? You are a good son. I love you whether the decisions you make."
"But that's it. I don't know what overcame me. First, I was- just aware. Then I wanted to do the quest. Princess Javana wants to marry me. I signed my name, father."
Allen combed a hand into his son's yellow hair that looked brown in the shadows of the cell and pulled him close.
There was no disappointment or shame in his eyes, but rather sorrow. A distant sorrow, Alsin could not read or understand. When their eyes locked, his father would look away and suck in a gulp of air.
"Father, what should I do?"
"There's nothing you can do. You will be fine. I feel it."
The strength and power his father held swelled tears in his eyes. This was the man he admired and loved. Although, King Edrich Von locked him in a cell, he couldn't lock up his heart and soul.
"This is what I want you to remember, Alsindad. I love you. I'm proud of you. Let nothing be invisible in your eyes. I pray Gamael protect you."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N
I hope you are enjoying this story. Please spare me a vote if you like and give feedback .
Thank you!
- LeQuita