Rovan
Sharp red eyes gazed at me, his pupils flattening and rounding like a feline's as he tried to read me. I only stirred my glass of liquor leisurely as I leaned back in my throne and waved the soldiers and guards away with a flick of the wrists.
"Your majesty," he said it tightly through grit teeth as he bowed his head, as if it hurt him to address me that way. Perhaps, he grew too used to seeing my neck under the shoe of his dead queen.
Convincing him I was still under her shoe was far too easy. People like him never expected much else from me other than battle to begin with.
Once the doors shut with a loud thud, I finally looked upon his small frame. He looked smaller from this angle, making him look like a prepubescent boy with the face of an old, unfortunate man. He was rumored to be 140 years old, and I was willing to bet that all that magic was causing his less than pleasing looks.
"Do you know why you're here?" I inquired.
He shook his head.
"Do you not have a tongue?" A sharp edge rose out of my voice impatiently.
"No, your majesty. I do not know why I am here." He answered immediately.
I studied him for a second. Because of his complex, I knew he craved to have some sort of power to exert and compensate for his short stature, though nobody truly cares about it. This is why I chose to meet him formally in my best attire and a heavy, annoying crown atop my head. He had to see all that could be his and snatch the bait I put in his lap.
"With the Queen gone, I've been thinking of selecting an advisor." My pointer finger traced the rim of the glass carefully.
He raised a brow in interest, "May I ask why?"
Looking away, I placed the cup on the flat area of the armrest and stood up to pace on the platform
"I quite like being king, and I've had my bit of fun..." I moved from the left of the throne toward him. "But I don't care about politics. I never did."
A pause of silence rose between us as I stopped in front of him and gazed upon him like a serpent with its eye on its prey. He seemed to believe it, which didn't surprise me. I was always a sword swinging buffoon to these people.
"That's why you're here." I tilted my head. "I need someone to pass the crown to."
Interest sparked in his body judging by his stiffening posture, and the way he then tried to act disinterested as if he was a humble man.
"I don't know how I could possibly presume such a role."
I clicked my tongue, "You dare question my decision?"
He shook his head rather smugly as he looked up and lowered his head, "Say the word, your majesty."
"Don't get ahead of yourself. You must pass the test and prove you can protect your throne. While I am away to monitor my troops, I want you to find those who would challenge me and kill them."
He frowned, "What about you? How can I trust you're not just trying to eliminate the competition?"
I turned to grab my liquor and sipped it.
"A soldier's place is on the battlefield." Sighing as I spoke my truth aloud, I turned and downed the liquor in one go. "I learned that the hard way."
He stared at my grim expression as I moved on, "I already know who they are. It's up to you to figure it out on your own. Get rid of them before I do, and the crown is yours."
He smiled slyly and nodded nonetheless. Truthfully, I wasn't sure if he'd believe me, but I could see the nervous doubt in his gaze as he glanced around.
"There's not much stopping me from killing you right here and now. We both know you're not the one in the contract with my familiars, and seeing as there is no proprietor any longer, I have more freedom." I placed my empty glass on the armrest and tapped the velvety cushion adorning the throne. "Stop wasting my time. Do you agree or not?"
His voice trembled a bit, "Would there be a contract?"
"No. I won't be coming back if you succeed. Ideally, we'll never see each other again."
"Understood."
With my back turned toward him, he walked away to start the pursuit of the others, not knowing that I'd given them the same assignment. I just had to be away long enough to let them kill each other.
Meanwhile, I'd come up empty handed at the Valis estate two weeks ago, and Katar and her daughter were still at large with no sign of any human remains that could be Roselena. Even if I did find remains, there wouldn't be much left to identify her anyway.
I wouldn't even bother searching for her body if I didn't know Bermillian's practiced such strict funeral rites. Usually, the family would immediately clean her up and make her as presentable as they can for her to walk into the afterlife with grace. A burial site was chosen usually based on where the family had previously been buried, which could require travel. If that was the case, burning the flesh of the deceased was standard to avoid the purification of the body, and the bones were taken to the burial site.
I thought it was tedious, and the need to burn the body sort of defeated the purpose of dressing them well.
In Dhernon, it was common to simply have a drink in their honor and leave them untouched in the battlefield. If they died near civilization, their bodies were moved to a far removed area and left there. They either became food for dark creatures or simply wasted away.
Now, as I walked through the same streets of DuPont that Roselena likely grew up in, it felt like walking through a memorial sight. Everywhere I went, I imagined her walking ahead of me or toward me. It was harrowing to know she never would, and I suspected that her memory would haunt me for a long time.
A cold breeze blew by as I read the sign carved into wood. Printing. A very simple title that said all it needed, reminding me of Joaquim's report on her background.
I walked to the front door and tried to turn the doorknob only to meet the resistance of the lock. With a little force, the door gave way, tilting at an odd angle as if I'd broken it, which didn't seem serious as the place was obviously abandoned. Passing the threshold, I looked down to see some scattered paper and ink pots, but otherwise, the place was pristine.
There were many bookshelves with many bound and unbound books, and many framed portraits on the wall. My eyes trained directly over the portraits featuring four individuals. Drawn in detailed pencil sat a small young girl, who I immediately recognized as Roselena, an older boy, a man, and a woman, who I knew had to be the young princess in the frame hidden away in my room.
My eyes trailed back to the man, settling over the two matching freckles above his lip and on his chin. The very same ones Roselena had. Undeniably, I came to the obvious conclusion that Roselena was the late princess's daughter.
Roselena and this young boy were likely the last of Bermillia's royalty, and my stomach sank to dangerous lows. A feeling I'd grown used to. Only this time, the creeping feeling that I would only make an enemy out of the only Bermillian royal left alive was unavoidable.
Sighing I moved on and searched the rest of the house, until I arrived at a girlish room with two beds. The more overtly feminine side caught my eye, and as I remembered Roselena's flowery shoes, I knew she was the one behind it.
There was a small little drawer shelf with a mirror propped up on it. What I assumed to be cosmetics sat untouched, and a single bottle of perfume. I reached for it and opened to inhale, the scent of vanilla and sugar filled my nose.
Setting it back down, my eyes caught several pieces of paper stuck between the mirror's glass and its wooden frame. On each paper, there were different drawings in ink and pencil with great realistic detail.
Scattered and framed along the walls were more portraits drawn in the same style. This time, who I recognized as the young boy out in the common area, was a lot older, and looked like her. The man who I assumed was her father looked older and solemn, and there was only a copy of the same sketch of her mother. Another woman with fair features was hung beside her mother — a friend, I assumed.
There was a small rack of clothing in the space between the foot of her bed and the drawer. It held a few dresses, but mostly trousers and plain shirts. Imagining her in trousers was hard for me — she truly deserved to wear only the most extravagant dresses.
My eyes raked over the mildly messy bed, settling over her pillow. As far as I knew, pillows were a chosen hiding place for her, so I quickly walked toward it and lifted it up.
As I suspected, she had hidden away a small leatherbound notebook, stuffed to the brim with notes and dried flowers.
I picked it up and sat on the bed, moving to place the pillow elsewhere. Oddly, the pillow made a stiff crumpling sound. Placing the notebook down, I reached for the pillow and searched inside the pillowcase. Surely enough, an old flattened out sheet of paper that would traditional be rolled into a scroll was carefully placed.
Pulling it out, my eyes raked over the youthful, haphazard handwriting.
Roselena, this is Adelia, and I'm writing this in case you ever make your way back here. By the time you find this letter, Bellfire and I will have been gone already. We only have a few days until the magic boundaries are put in place, but if we could, Roselena, we would go and rescue you.
If you wait a few minutes, or write over this note, I should get the same message on my own scroll. Please write back as soon as you can. Be safe.
It was short and sweet and very obviously charmed with magic. I could practically feel it vibrating with energy, and I was surprised no one had traced it already.
With a heavy heart, I pocketed the notebook and moved the scroll to the shop area of the home. As I moved toward the door, my eyes caught sight of a deep blue ribbon. Imagining it in her hair, I grabbed it and shoved it in my pocket impulsively.
Placing the scroll atop the table adjacent to the large printing press, I leaned down to pick up the ink pot and grabbed a stray pen to write:
I regret to inform you that Roselena has passed away. I offer my condolences and hope that you are in good health, whoever this may be.
At a loss for any more words, I rolled it up and tucked it into my pocket, hoping that whoever it was wouldn't write back too soon.
Walking out of the family home, Henry stepped up with our horse's reins in hand.
The place had been abandoned for a while, and I doubted there would be anything to clue me in on her whereabouts. The fact that there is a Bermillian heir likely walking around was none of my concern. The worst that could happen is that he would gather an army and revolt against Dhernon, but that was the exact same thing I wanted to do.
The only reason he'd pose any threat to me is if he gathered vengeance and resent toward me when he learned of Roselena's death. Even then, I would gladly take any judgment he wanted to impart on me.
Shaking my head, I merely hopped onto my horse and rode to the inn we were staying at. It took us mere minutes to get there by horse, but I knew traveling around by foot would be quite tiring. It was a large city with many people passing through to do business and commerce.
I only paused to settle at the inn for a bit before going to meet my men in the agreed upon location, the local burial ground. It gave me the chance to read the first page of Roselena's notebook.
She was 19 at the time, complaining about her brother being a pain. It brought a smile to my lips as I read how she threatened to hang his dirty laundry for all the ladies in town to see.
I wondered if she would have done the same to me if I'd angered her enough. Unfortunately for her, she was the only lady who's opinion I cared about, aside from my sister, and I could not give a rat's ass if my younger sister saw my dirty laundry.
Leaning back against the backboard of the bed, I traced the outline of her small doodle of a dog as I finished her small saga written in blue ink.
Remembering the ribbon in my pocket, I fished it out and stood to grab my sword from where it leaned against the bed. Carefully, I wrapped it around the hilt and tied a knot, securing it so it'd hopefully never go missing. It would serve as a reminder of the biggest reason I was making all of these plans. For Roselena and my mother.
As nightfall had long passed, I set out of the inn on my own. The blue ribbon ends on my sword flew in the wind as my horse galloped through the dark of the night. Usually, Henry would follow closely behind me, but even he didn't know about my true purpose in making the trip around Bermillia. I only let him come along because Joaquim had to keep an eye on the three idiot High Mages chasing after each other.
No one could know why I was truly here, and I'd make sure it stayed that way.
I slowed down to hop off the horse as I passed the sign marking the entrance of the burial site. My boots crushed the oddly moist and cold ground as I moved forward through the thick darkness. The sound of bugs and running water was quiet and at a distance, and I could feel the energy coursing through the burial site. Places like this were breeding grounds for magic like necromancy, though it really was just communication with the spirits that once monitored those who died here.
My feet stopped at the foot of a tombstone. One with the name of the deceased princess of Bermillia, though no one else knew this. I snapped my fingers, fire burning at the tips in a less controlled fashion than usual.
It was also more painful now without my familiars, but I held it in. The signal was effective enough to make the man of the hour step out of the darkness and show himself. The lights on my fingers went out and I tried to ignore the way my fingers pulsed from the heated pain.
He bowed, "Your majesty."
In the dark, I couldn't see his short cropped hair or the stiff stance he always had around me. Lithar was always by the books, which is why I was not surprised he was chosen as the lieutenant's messenger. Luckily for me, most of my soldiers respected me or had the sense to fear me. Lithar fell into both categories.
"How are your son and daughter?" I asked, genuinely curious. He was one of the spies I chose to move to Bermillia as a refugee. I tried to choose only men with families to take care of at the time.
He cleared his throat, "They are doing well. Great actually. I managed to get them into a good academy. My son has started apprenticing with a welder, and seems to be pretty happy with it. My daughter's engaged, so I don't have to worry about them anymore."
A smile lifted on my lips. Lithar was almost two decades older than me, so his son was only a few years younger than me. I was glad at least his children were protected from the Dark Empire.
"I'm glad." I said shortly. "I suppose, you were told the purpose for the meeting."
Joaquim had spread word of a rebellion in an old pub. I was assuming word had gotten to my lieutenants, and I was hoping everything I'd done for them in the past would earn me some credibility.
"Yes. Lieutenant Gravius said he cannot act on it without any guarantee that all soldier contracts are retrieved and destroyed."
My right eye twitched in response to the annoyance spiking inside of me. Pushing the impatience down, I settled with a dissatisfied scowl.
It made sense. Unlike me, these men had much to lose, so a little insurance was only right. Fortunately for them, I'd already been thinking of how to get my hands on those contracts myself.
"That's all?" I asked, my brain already going into overdrive. Formulating a plan to get to Dhernon wasn't the issue. Finding where those contracts were and how to break them was the problem... A problem I'd have to solve down the line.
Rubbing my temples, I awaited his response, but it came a bit later than expected.
"Do you think we can really do this?" He asked. "And why now?"
Then he stuttered, "if that's — if that's okay to ask, sir."
My hand touched the ribbon on my sword instinctively, and my eyes lifted to the sky where I suspected my own insurer resided.
"Dhernon is at a turning point. She either goes up or down, and seeing as she has used all of us as a crutch to climb on, she'll have no ground to stand on if we rebel." My fingers rubbed the ribbon's fabric. "Dhernon has chosen to make someone greater than her an enemy, and that was her first mistake. So yes, I think we can do this."
He sighed audibly, likely from relief.
"Thank you for your honesty sir. But once she falls, what happens?"
I hadn't thought that far, and the question took me by surprise.
"The citizens will be free to build it up again however they want to." I decided.
I didn't wait for a response before giving him my final order, "Tell them I'll have their contracts in my hands by the end of the month, if not sooner."
"Yes, sir. I'll make sure to tell them just that." The sound of him stepping away was audible, but it paused for a moment. "I'm sorry for your loss, your majesty. Your mother deserved a better and later end than that."
I didn't say anything, and when he realized I didn't plan on responding, he simply continued on his way.
My mother's death was unfortunate, and I wished I could have saved her, but I'd accepted her death more easily than I had Roselena's. My mother seemed satisfied with her end, but Roselena? I couldn't imagine anything but anguish and torture as someone treated her with such cruelty. As a man took her innocence and then her life...
As a son of a prostitute, I knew the terrible toll prostitution took on my mother. I imagined it was why she resented me, likely because I was a man. Perhaps, she imagined me going to other prostitutes and taking their bodies for my own pleasure. Perhaps, she reduced me to the very men who visited our home so often.
Though I was no stranger to the temptations of lust, I couldn't go through with anything more than letting women touch me momentarily. I couldn't find it in me to let them undress me or touch them myself. I couldn't stop imagining my mother crying and condemning me with her gaze everytime a woman offered herself to me.
When I thought of how my mother's own innocence was bought and exchanged, it made my blood boil. When I thought of how Roselena's was taken by force against her will, it made me want to revert to my lesser instinct to kill every human in sight.
It wasn't enough that the man who violated her was already dead on the scene. I needed to bring the entire empire who justified his actions to the ground.
Crouching down in front of her mother's tombstone, I placed my hand on top of the cold rock and bowed my head.
"I give you my condolences, your highness." I said aloud.
Then I stood and brushed my hands off, hoping that I could properly avenge Roselena and my mother.