Chapter One Hundred and Fifty Eight: Sinmir's Ulterior Motive
Vrael felt as if he'd walked into a dream as he was pulled up the plush carpeted staircase and down a carpeted hall; he blankly allowed himself to be pulled around countless corners, up more flights of stairs, and through more grand hallways with gorgeous furniture.
Three maids and three butlers stood waiting in the last hall, but when the group turned and saw them approaching, they all scrambled forward with excited expressions. The woman leading him and Amelia stopped in front of them, a small smile playing across her wrinkled face.
"Mistress Maud!" one of the girls squealed, clutching the woman's dress. "Is it true?! Has Lord Sinmir really returned to the castle?"
"Indeed," Maud sniffed, then gave all of them a look. "What's more, he's returned with important political guests from the neighboring country, Aerika. They all seem to have been through quite a long journey and need a bit of polishing up, so I would like you to do so."
"At once, Ma'am," a butler with dark brown hair said with a slight bow. "Any other orders?"
"Indeed, Claes," Maud said softly. "They both require clothes for a meeting with King Grinwald."
When he bowed again, Maud let go of them and Amelia was led into a room by the maids while Vrael was pulled into a beautiful bedroom by the butlers. Before he could so much as blink, one of the men began to remove his clothing with gentle fingers.
Vrael merely stood in place and looked around, dazed.
"This castle is awe-inspiring," he murmured, lifting his arms as his shirt was removed. "You all must love working here."
"Indeed we do," a very dark-skinned man chuckled, digging through several drawers for what he assumed was clothing. "How did you meet Lord Sinmir? You are a halfling, are you not?"
"Yes, I am," Vrael sighed, shaking his head. "I met him just outside of the city of Ordin in Aerika. He was already traveling with a few friends of mine when I was introduced, but since then, we've become quite close. I think of him as one of my best friends since I'm under his protection."
All three butlers paused at the same time.
"Under his protection?" the tallest asked, brown eyes glinting beneath the shock of his sandy blonde hair. "Why would you need it if you are a political guest from Aerika?"
"It's a very long and complicated series of explanations," Vrael muttered. "Things are very wrong in Aerika right now. I'm not sure if I should talk about it until we've spoken to King Grinwald."
"Ah, that is understandable," the dark-skinned man said, watching as he was stripped down to his undergarments. "What is your name, young master?"
Vrael shuddered, ears sagging.
"Just call me Vrael," he mumbled, feeling awkward. "Not young master."
"As you wish, Vrael," he said; then he gestured at himself. "My name is Walt, and they," he gestured to the blonde and brunette, who bowed with broad smiles, "are Kai and Claes. We've been assigned to you for the duration of your stay at the castle, so if you have need of anything at all, just tell us and it shall be done."
Vrael nodded, letting loose a sigh.
At least, until a very faint, muted, distant roar began to reverberate through the room. Everyone froze, Vrael included, as the floor of the castle shivered for a moment.
"What was that?!" Vrael hissed, hair standing on end. "That sounded like a demon of some sort!"
Walt swallowed hard, eyes raised towards the ceiling with anxiety on his face.
"You could say that might be somewhat accurate," he whispered, finally lowering his dark eyes with a heavy sigh. "We've been having some trouble with goblins and chimeras as of late."
Vrael jerked, staring at him with horrified eyes.
"Goblins and chimeras?!" he squawked. "You have giant three-headed monsters and demons running around this area?!"
"Yes, many of the monsters that frequent the Southlands of Aerika are present in Adanac as well, since there are many mountainous regions and forests where people do not dwell."
"That's not safe," Vrael said slowly, swallowing hard. "Goblins can be dangerous in numbers, according to the old stories, but chimeras are just as terrifying as dragons. Can't they cast some of the most dangerous magic in the world?!"
"Aye," Walt chuckled, "they're the most dangerous of the monstrosities that dwell within Adanac. Don't worry, though, the court wizards prevent them from coming near Otnorot and... what's that?"
Vrael turned to see that the man was looking at the mark on his shoulder.
"SInmir carved it into my shoulder since I'm a halfling who was born in Aerika," he said simply, patting his arm. "My family is still there, so he did it to offer us protection. That's the reason I'm here, personally... he wants me to explain how bad things have gotten."
Walt's eyes drifted from his shoulder to the signet rings on his finger.
Those eyes narrowed slightly.
With his lips pressed together, he stepped forward and gently began to run an ornate comb through his shoulder-length silver hair before tying it into a ponytail using a red ribbon. Then, he was dressed in a clean set of clothes that were a little too large for his frame.
Once that was done, the butlers examined his appearance before nodding at each other.
"You look presentable enough," Claes said, leading him over to a full-body mirror.
Vrael eyed his appearance.
He had to admit, he looked dashing. Black cotton pants, a fine gold-embroidered crimson tunic, and a silken undershirt held to his waist by a belt. He blinked, then scratched at his ear.
"Thank you," he said softly. "I appreciate the time you took getting me ready."
"Not at all," Walt said simply, giving an embellished bow. "Now, for the tour of the castle."
"Tour?" Vrael asked, blinking as he was pulled back out into the hall. "What tour?"
"We were instructed to show you around, specifically," Claes chuckled, rolling his eyes. "The orders came from Lord Sinmir himself."
"What about Amelia?" he asked, trying to halt and failing. "Shouldn't we wait for her?"
"The instructions only applied to you, for whatever reason," Walt informed him. "We were told that you would appreciate it, although details weren't given."
Vrael didn't protest further when the three men led him throughout the halls of the castle, from the enormous grand ballroom with its gorgeous crystal chandeliers and reflective marble floors, to the tallest towers, and back down to the gardens.
Then there was the music room.
Vrael immediately realized that Xaphile would have fallen in love with it.
There were instruments of every variety lining the walls, but all too soon, they left the music room and moved onto the rest of the castle, and he could only listen in rapture as he was given descriptions of each room and hallway's incredible history.
Each room held tales of saved lives.
"Even before Sinmir was born, the Ein Vindrael family has been helping people," Vrael murmured. "I guess saving people is in Sinmir's blood. No wonder he's done so much for me."
"Oh, saving you was a personal vendetta," Claes sighed, flapping a dismissive hand. "He never would have given a signet ring or branded the crest of his house on one of us. You're special in some way, although I'm sure it likely has to do with that age old pro---"
Walt elbowed him fiercely, and Claes abruptly shut his mouth, but Vrael halted dead in his tracks, muscles frozen.
"Age old what?" he asked slowly. "What were you about to say?"
"Claes is an idiot who spouts nonsense and comes to strange conclusions about anything and everything, even if those conclusions don't make sense," Walt informed him. "Yet, about one thing, he is correct: our prince favors you."
"What?" Vrael scoffed, frowning at him. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am," Walt said, then leaned forward and tapped his arm. "Until now, none in this castle aside from Yuragh have been given the mark of the Ein Vindrael crest. It is a gesture of absolute trust and affection, and it is one that gives you a considerable amount of power with the king's family."
"Wait, so, the mark he gave me is that important...?" Vrael asked. "Why?! I'm not that special!"
"In his eyes you must be," Walt said, shrugging; then he bowed. "Now that the tour is finished, you're free to roam around as you please until it's time for your meeting with the king. If you have need to find your room again, simply talk to anyone in the castle. They will guide you."
"Uh, all right," Vrael murmured, blinking a few times. "Thank you."
Walt smiled, then turned and walked away with the other two servants.
After they vanished around a corner, Vrael looked around the empty hall, still feeling dazed by the shocking news he'd just received about how much Sinmir really cared about him. As he walked, his eyes continued wandering over his plush surroundings.
The inside of this castle really reminded him of a story.
It held such mystery. So many people must have walked its halls, but had never given it much thought. It was old. The glowing crystal chandeliers above him flickered, and yet, it seemed almost welcoming. He stared around, admiring every painting, every table, and every flower; imagining the process of each coming to be.
A slow smile touched his face until he saw a painting with a face he recognized.
He stopped, taking in the sight of a beautiful sylvan woman with gorgeous, fiery red hair and large green eyes holding a baby wrapped in a blanket. Behind her was none other than Sinmir, both of his large hands on her shoulders, with his soft grey eyes fixed on both of them.
The man was wearing an expression he'd never seen before.
Love.
Pure, unadulterated, raw love mixed with pride and joy.
Even through something like a painting, he could see those feelings as plain as day.
He stood there for a moment, not even realizing that he had company until someone spoke.
"You must be one of the guests Sinmir brought here," a deep voice murmured, coming to stand beside him. "I take it you're the one he chose to bear the mark upon your arm?"
Vrael jumped and looked at the man.
He was instantly struck dumb.
The man before him was gorgeous.
He was slightly taller than Sinmir, but his glossy, blue-streaked hair was the color of starlight, and it was so long that it flowed down his back and actually brushed against the ground.
Silken blue robes flowed across his body, giving him a breezy appearance despite his intimidating stature, but it wasn't his height, hair, or even his clothing that took Vrael's breath away.
It was his face.
His skin was a beautiful shade of ivory.
Vrael examined his features with a stunned sensation in his gut.
His jaw was hard and angular like steel beams, his nose was slightly arched with a wide flare around his nostrils. More noticeable, his cheekbones were high and sharp, which made his almond eyes stand out even more than they already did.
Because out of every feature, from his shocking hair to his handsome face, his eyes stood out most. They were were a colorless silver, framed by low-hanging white lashes that obscured his irises and gave him a very calm, bored look.
He was the most handsome man that Vrael had ever seen, but his expression said little about how he was feeling.
"Do I pass?" he asked, tilting his head in a curious manner. "I take it you're the boy with the Ein Vindrael mark upon his arm."
"What?" Vrael asked, dazed; then he realized he'd been staring and flushed. "Oh... um, sorry... yes, I am, but how did you know? I haven't been here for very long, and I only told three people about it a few moments ago."
"I was following from a distance," the man said in a deep, velvety tone, regarding him with eyes that held little emotion. "I may be rather tall, but I'm quieter than any in this castle when I want to be. Still... I'm intrigued. You're the very first person who's ever apologized for staring at me."
Vrael felt mortified and his face burned. The handsome stranger paused and gave a quiet chuckle at the look on his face.
"Sorry," Vrael mumbled, fiddling with his hands. "Really, I didn't mean to stare... I--"
A finger was abruptly pressed against his lips, and he fell silent, looking up to see the strange man regarding him with a softer expression through the white lashes obscuring his irises.
"You have no need to apologize," he murmured, removing his hand and stretching it out across the hall. His loose, billowing blue sleeves followed his movements when he turned. "It would seem that you and I are cut from the same cloth. It is more than a pleasure to meet you."
And without another word, the stranger stepped forward and quietly embraced him, covering his upper torso with folds of soft, cool silk. He froze, shocked, as his back was rubbed and patted, but before he could ask who the man was, it was over and he was stepping back.
"I'm afraid I'm confused," Vrael said slowly. "Why did you hug me?"
The stranger merely smiled faintly, eyes glinting a little.
"When people enter the castle for the first time," he said in a deep, velvety voice, "they look at everything as if they're trying to encrypt it in their minds. It's as if they're afraid that they'll never come here again, and they want to see everything while they can. But at the same time, they are also gazing at everything with wonder, like a newborn babe gazing out at the world."
Vrael smiled, surprised that his observation was actually accurate.
"So poetic," he said, "but I was doing none of the things you described."
"Really?" the man inquired, tilting his head. "Pray tell, what were you doing?"
"Well," Vrael pointed to the painting on the wall. "Do you see that portrait there?"
The stranger nodded, looking thoughtful. "What of it? Do you want to steal it?"
Vrael gave him an incredulous look.
"No, I don't want to steal it!" he scoffed, scowling intensely. "Where would I even put it? It's huge! No, I was just thinking about how long the woman must've been sitting before the painter finished the portrait. I was wondering what was going though her thoughts as she sat there, holding a crying baby."
"Hm, that is a good question," the stranger said, matter-of-factly. "What do you think?"
Vrael thought a moment, staring at her beautiful, tired face.
What could she have been thinking?
She looked as if she was in pain even though she was smiling, but what could cause that kind of expression? Sinmir's eyes were nothing but loving, too... and then, he had an idea. The woman's smile was one of pain and happiness: her eyes were solemn, but still full of joy.
The eyes of a woman who had become a mother, and yet, lost someone dearly.
"She was probably grieving her husband," Vrael said, turning to see the stranger's faint smile disappear entirely. "See how Sinmir is looking at her? He obviously loves her, and she looks pained, so... perhaps, she is related to him somehow? Perhaps a cousin, or a young aunt?"
The man silently stared at him for a long time, silver eyes ghosting over his face, before he shook his head and another smile, weaker and forced, appeared on his handsome face.
"Who are you?" he asked, hands disappearing into the folds of his sleeves. "What is your name?"
"Vrael Daael," Vrael instantly chirped, giving a wave. "Pleasure to meet you."
The stranger looked thoughtful for a moment, but he held out a friendly hand.
"And you are?"
Caught by surprise, the stranger looked at his hand and sighed, taking it and shaking it gently.
"I'm surprised you've gotten as close to Sinmir as you have and yet you know nothing of me," he said, dropping his hand and sweeping into a low bow; gleaming hair fell over his shoulders and brushed against the ground. "Hello, my future blood brother... I am Yuragh of Adanac, chief adviser to the king, captain of the guard, and the sworn brother and friend of prince Sinmir."
Right then, Vrael was certain he would faint.
He stared at the man before him in shock.
But no... he wasn't a man.
He was a halfling.
Wow, he told himself, blinking. Sinmir wasn't kidding. Yuragh has an amazing look.
"Are you alright?" the half-orc inquired, scintillating eyes narrowing. "You've gone a little pale."
It took Vrael a moment, but after a time, he nodded.
"I'm fine," he said softly. "I just never expected to meet Sinmir's blood brother alone."
Yuragh blinked, then his thin lips quirked upward into a fox-like smile.
"You are certainly interesting. Does it trouble you to meet me alone?."
Vrael lost track of his thoughts and just looked dumbly at him.
"No, it doesn't, but... well, it feels like it happened too soon, since we're only bringing bad news to your king," he said blankly, then realized where he was and straightened up. "Speaking of which, I actually need to find my friend, Amelia. It was a pleasure meeting you, though"
With a bow, he turned and began to walk away.
Yuragh walked with him, much to his dismay.
"Allow me to accompany you," he said silkily, "as I'm sure we're going to the same place."
Vrael meekly looked away from him and glanced at the wall, but he was surprised to find a portrait of king Osric's late wife, Queen Danaella, before him. He stopped and went up to it, admiring the ruby dress she was wearing before he noticed how sad her eyes looked.
"Danaella," Yuragh said. "Former queen of Aerika."
Vrael jumped.
The man was right beside him again, but he hadn't made a single noise.
"She was King Osric's wife," he murmured. "The mother of Prince Roland."
"Indeed," Yuragh said, then gave him a sly look. "Let's play your little game again. What is going through her mind right now?"
Vrael looked at the painting, noticing the date in the bottom right corner along with the initials of the artist. Then he looked at her face, examining the sky blue eyes that gazed through the portrait in such a haunted way. Eyes that looked like they were begging someone to help her.
Then he looked at the hand, held against her stomach.
"She's in anguish," he said, catching the man off-guard a second time. "When this was painted, she was a fourteen-year-old girl, pregnant with the child of the man who forcibly took her innocence and hurt her, repetitively. Even in a painting, her eyes tell a sad, awful story."
"I asked what was going through her mind," Yuragh said softly. "Not what was really happening."
"Well," Vrael murmured, looking at her face, then back at her hand, "she was probably planning on how to escape, but behind all that, a part of her was wondering if her baby would be a boy or girl, yet not caring. She'd love the child, regardless of how it was conceived."
Yuragh was silent beside him.
"How did you know?" he inquired. "That is, about the history behind this painting?"
Vrael gestured at the corner of it.
"There is a date in the bottom right corner," he replied. "It matches up with when the prince of Aerika was born, and it's common knowledge about how he was conceived. My mother, before she had me and my little brothers, was a fierce general who served King Osric."
"Why is she no longer a general?" Yuragh inquired, giving him a curious glance. "Most people continue to serve their ruler even after having children."
"My father was a dark elf, she was human," Vrael told him, casting a weak smile his way; he turned his eyes back upon the sad girl in the painting. "As you know, King Osric has halflings put to death in front of their parents before selling off the non-human spouse. My mother... she chose true love and broke the law to save our family. I've lived in hiding my whole life."
Yuragh regarded him with much gentler eyes.
"Such an inspiring tale," he murmured. "Your mother must love you very much."
"Yes, her and my Pa both," Vrael chuckled, scratching his ear. "They're wonderful parents. We never wanted for anything even though we had so little."
"I am impressed," Yuragh said, smiling. "Tell me, do you like grand balls?"
Vrael started, giving him a strange look.
"I've never been to a grand ball," he said, then paused and added, "well, discounting the one I recently went to in Dynah, but that was to rescue the little brother of someone dear to me so I didn't really have any time to enjoy it. Although, the nobles there were rather... erm, obnoxious."
"Ahhhh," Yuragh drawled, nodding with a wider smirk. "Perhaps you're rather similar to myself, then. I, too, dislike the pompous nobles that come from Aerika to our King's soirees. I try to avoid social gatherings whenever possible."
"Eh?" Vrael scoffed, eyebrows rising. "Why?"
"It doesn't suit me," Yuragh murmured. "I'm a strategist and a scholar. Balls are quite boring."
"How so?" Vrael asked, jumping when the man wrapped an arm around his shoulder and steered him away from the direction they'd originally been heading. "I've only attended one ball, but even though people were rude and snotty, it seemed rather fun with all the dancing."
"Sinmir's father, King Grinwald, makes me attend those horrible things every year, and because I am an eligible bachelor, I have to dance with women who only talk about their hair, or the latest gown fashions, or how handsome I am," Yuragh sighed, raising his free arm in dismay. "It's really very demeaning. I swear my level of intelligence drops every time they speak."
Vrael laughed, instantly thinking of all the women with bouncing butts back in Dynah and Atka.
"I think I know what you mean," he said, rolling his eyes. "All the women I saw at the ball I went to were exactly the same way. Everyone was judging each other."
"Not that there's much to judge," Yuragh snorted. "Gowns these days make women look repugnant. I miss the times when gowns were more shapely. Less frills, more simplicity."
"I agree," Vrael eagerly told him, lifting a finger. "So many women were wearing gowns with rears that would literally bounce with every step they took."
Yuragh raised an eyebrow.
"Really now?"
"Yeah," Vrael chuckled, shaking his head. "It's quite strange, actually, what women these days think are comely dresses. I mean, I still think every man who saw Ella walking up the stairs to the castle thought her to be the most beautiful girl attending that party."
"Ella?" Yuragh inquired, face turning to stone. "Is she someone you fancy?"
"Oh, no, never, ew," Vrael scoffed, face wrinkling. "She's not my type in the slightest. Also, she and my sworn brother, Xaphile, have this really strange, weird, and intense thing going on."
"Indeed?"
They walked down the halls, talking as they went, and it came so easily that they ended up chatting about everything, from horses to certain demons that roamed the world. Vrael was actually kind of surprised by how attentive Yuragh was to him, and the small smiles here and there made him feel like he'd made yet another very good friend, which was strange.
It was only when they ended up taking a seat in an enormous carpeted room that the man turned to look at him with a careful expression.
"My last question is this," he said, setting a hand upon Vrael's shoulder. "What is Sinmir to you?"
Vrael blinked, staring at him in surprise.
It had actually come out of nowhere.
They'd been in the middle of talking about his magical abilities a split second before.
"Well..." he murmured, thinking about it, "honestly? He's someone I care about a lot."
"Why?"
Vrael bit the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out a way to put his thoughts into words.
"A great deal of reasons, all meshed together," he eventually explained. "This is probably going to sound somewhat disrespectful, but to me, Sinmir's not a prince. He's just a good friend... actually, no, he might even be more than that."
"More than a friend?" Yuragh asked lowly. "In what way?"
"He's someone I idolize, like a father figure of sorts, only not," Vrael said, frowning as he tried to figure out how he really felt. "I don't really know. It's like, he and I aren't related, but we've gone through so much that we're more than friends, yet not quite family, either."
"Why are you close to him, Vrael Daael?"
He thought about it seriously, going back over the events of the last few months.
"He's a good person, that's why," he finally said. "To me, Sinmir will always be the man who saved my life, gave me a future full of hope, life, and friends like a normal person, and pulled my whole family out of such terrible danger. The reason I'm close with him now is because I almost love him like a brother. After everything he's done for me, and the rest of us, I can't help it."
Yuragh's face tightened, but then... it slowly relaxed and he nodded.
He let loose a deep sigh.
"You pass," he said softly, mussing up Vrael's hair. "I am sure that I will hear the troubling news that you bring later, in the king's throne room, but you seem to me like a good kid and I can't deny that I think we might get along. Do you know why this country was named Adanac?"
Vrael blinked, a little confused by his last question.
"Actually, surprisingly enough, I do," he said, lifting a finger. "My father once mentioned that it's because the name was derived from the Sylvan word Adana, which means being in high spirits."
Yuragh looked a little thoughtful. "But do you know why it was named that?"
Vrael shook his head.
"You see," Yuragh murmured, looking at the ground with his hands folded, "when our kingdom was first formed a few hundred years ago, Sinmir's ancestor, King Rak, had a hard time trying to figure out what he wanted to name it. He wanted something that would be remembered, something that his people would come to love, because there were many people against the idea of a monarchy. It was his wife, Adrianna, who came up with Adanac."
"Really?" Vrael asked, surprised. "His wife did?"
"Yes," Yuragh said, nodding sagely. "She decided that it gave glory to all the people of the land, and they would be proud to give their allegiance to a cause as pure as the happiness of all. True to her declaration, the people who originally were against the kingdom forming couldn't help but wonder at such a name. They decided that if such a kingdom, a land of rejoicing, could exist, they wanted to be part of it... and so, it has been called Adanac ever since. The kingdom of joy."
He was silent for a moment, and Vrael turned his head to look at him.
His eyes had misted over, wetness accumulating on his silver lashes.
"What's wrong?" Vrael asked, instantly concerned. "Are you... crying?"
"Indeed, I am," he said in a calm, unfettered voice. "We live in the kingdom of joy. Even now I find it hard to stomach that the crowned prince we all adore suffers in such agony."
Vrael felt his heart sink.
"What are you talking about?" he asked. "How is Sinmir... suffering in agony? What agony?"
"Sinmir did not tell you," Yuragh said simply, rubbing his eyes, "so I will not either. You need not know about it just yet. I can only assume he held his silence because he did not want you to bear the weight of his burdens. He's that kind of man, so I will not disrespect his wishes."
Vrael eyed Yuragh with a somewhat softer disposition than before.
"You're pretty forward for someone who's meeting a stranger for the first time, but you know what?" he said thoughtfully. "I really like you. I think we'll get along."
Yuragh turned skeptical silver eyes on him.
"Do you now?"
"Yep."
And then, they fell into a comfortable silence, and Vrael stared up at the ceiling, humming with a contented feeling in his stomach. He felt a little at ease, knowing that he was getting along with Sinmir's best friend and sworn brother. Yuragh was definitely a little odd, but he was a good guy.
His emotions said it all.
After being drilled with so many questions, he'd finally come to the conclusion that this halfling sitting beside him was only worried and suspicious about his intentions towards the prince.
But that was okay.
He would show Sinmir's best friend that he wasn't a bad person.
Everything would be fine in the end.
"We had better return," Yuragh murmured, finally rising to his feet. "I'm sure you will be missed, and I am eager to see Sinmir's face. It has been a long time since he and I have last spoken with each other."
"Hey, is it true?" Vrael suddenly asked, making the man glance at him. "That you're half orc?"
Yuragh blinked, then carefully pulled his long hair back behind his ear, revealing the sharp tip.
It wasn't elvish in the slightest, seeing how it didn't extend very far. In fact, it looked more human than anything, but slightly larger with a sharp taper rather than a round one. Then the man pulled his lips back over his teeth and gave the scariest smile that Vrael had ever seen.
He balked and jerked back before he realized it wasn't a smile at all.
Yuragh had normal top teeth, pearly white and straight, but two large fangs stuck out of his lower jaw, protruding like an orc's tusks. After a moment, he closed his mouth and smirked.
"I take after my mother's bloodline when it comes to more personal aspects of my body," he explained, then made a gesture towards his lower region. "Orcs even have differences to their maleness, quite unlike what elves, men, and perhaps even faeries have to offer."
"I see," Vrael mumbled, face flushing at the unexpectedly lewd statement. "Um..."
"Do not fret, for 'tis nothing to be embarrassed about," Yuragh told him, giving him a gentle pat on the arm. "To answer your question, yes, I am indeed half orc. Now, let us go. Sinmir is like to be waiting to speak with his father, so we should be ready to meet him when he needs us."
Without further prompting, he walked Vrael back to the entrance hall.
It was there that they saw Amelia.
Vrael halted in his tracks, mouth falling open when she turned.
As opposed to the girl who had vanished into her room with a group of maids, the one that stood before him was radiant. There was a sparkle of worry in her sapphire blue eyes, but the white dress she wore was stunning, and he could find no fault in her appearance.
Her lush brown hair was perfectly done up in a braided crown around her head, and for whatever reason, her broken glasses had been removed. She squinted at him so hard that he snapped his jaw shut, noticing that Yuragh was looking between them observantly.
He ignored the stare and stepped forward.
"V-Vrael?" Amelia asked, peering at him when he stopped in front of her. "Is... is that you?"
"Yes, it's me," he said softly, looking her up and down. "You look breathtaking, Amelia."
She paused, blinking in confusion, and her befuddled expression made him laugh.
"I wouldn't know," she said a little glumly. "I can't see anything without my glasses."
"What happened to them?" he asked, staring at her in concern. "Where are they?"
"Well, since they were cracked from that incident with Bonks, the maids insisted on taking them to have another pair made for me," she groaned, letting her head sink into her hands. "I don't think there's enough time to wait for them, though. I tried to explain that I'll be leaving again after three days, possibly less, but they wouldn't take no for an answer, and now I can't see!"
"Well, if they said they could do it, they probably can," Vrael pointed out. "These people serve Sinmir's father, remember? I doubt they'd have offered if it weren't possible."
"But what if something happens to Ella while we're here?" she fretted, clutching his arms; he flinched when her unseen claws dug into his flesh, since he'd forgotten she had them. "Or even Phil, or Gus, or heaven forbid, Adariel ? If they get hurt, they won't have anyone to heal them!"
"Nothing will happen to them," he soothed, although he was a little uncertain himself. "It's only for a little while. They'll be fine, you'll see."
"Gods, I hope you're right," Amelia said in a shaken voice, then let loose a quivering sigh, "but Vrael, I'm so scared... Nimika is my home, and Ella... everyone needs her. Even me. In fact, probably me most. If something happens to her while we're trying to get help, I'll never forgive myself for leaving her alone, I swear it! I just can't--"
"Amelia," Vrael whispered, gently cupping her cheeks and silencing her ranting, "calm down, all right? Phil is more than capable of protecting her while we're gone, and Ella isn't defenseless by herself. You've known her longer than anyone else and you know how scary she can be."
"But--"
"Shhh," Vrael soothed, bringing his face so close to her own that their noses touched. "You need not fear for their lives. They're all together, and I know they'll protect each other. They'll be fine for a few days. Even a trained assassin would have difficulty taking on all of them at once."
"Assassin?" Yuragh instantly demanded, making Vrael's ear flick and Amelia jump. "What do you speak of?"
"It's a long story," Vrael told him, turning and putting an arm on Amelia's shoulder. "Yuragh, forgive me for not introducing her sooner, but this is a friend from the group of people we left behind in order to come here. Her name is Amelia Von Dolan."
"Pleasure, milady," he said curtly, then glanced at Vrael again. "Now, tell me, what is this about an assassin?"
"All will be explained shortly, Yuragh."
Everyone whirled to see Sinmir leaning against a pillar not too far away, arms folded and amusement dancing in his storm grey eyes.
He was dressed in attire similar to what he'd worn to the ball in Dynah, with his wild blonde hair tied back into a ponytail. His beard had been trimmed slightly and had visibly been combed free of the snarls to give his face a clean look.
Yuragh stiffened, and before Vrael could blink, the halfling stalked forward, robes billowing behind him like a silken blue cloud. Sinmir spread his arms when the orcish man crashed into him, wrapping him up in a bone-crushing embrace.
Nothing was said, but Vrael could see that Sinmir was hugging him much differently than the other people he'd embraced outside. This one was much more desperate.
He clung to Yuragh tightly, as if he would never let go of him again.
"Gods, I missed you, brother," Sinmir whispered, head sinking down on his shoulder. "I've needed much guidance and reassurances, but without you, there were none to be had."
"Don't think I've forgiven you," Yuragh said lowly, instantly pulling back and grabbing his beard; with a jerk, he pulled Sinmir's face closer to his own, visibly seething. "You heartless lout... your uncle and I were so worried that something had happened to you. Not a note, not a word."
"I'm alive and---"
"No!" Yuragh hissed, face crumpling into anguish. "After what happened to Aelinore, and then Theodore, when we received no word from you near the end of the year, we both feared for the worst. The deal was that you would send a letter every single month while you were away!"
Tears spilled down across his cheeks, but he didn't dry them, just glared with a tight jaw.
"I know," Sinmir said softly, giving him a depressed, unhappy expression. "Forgive me?"
Yuragh let out a huff, then dropped his arms, handsome face wrinkling.
"You have much explaining to do," he said, sniffing. "I will be present when you tell his lordship what's going on, make no mistake. You had better have a reasonable explanation."
"More than reasonable," Sinmir said softly. "You'll understand soon enough."
"I had better," Yuragh said, clenching his fists. "Why didn't you write to us?"
Sinmir gave him a pensive look and abruptly shifted his gaze to Vrael, which didn't go unnoticed.
"I take it the two of you have already met?" he softly asked. "Yuragh was bound to hear the news, but I'm surprised that the information about you two being here traveled so quickly."
"Yeah, we met," Vrael said, smiling a little. "He's actually quite friendly and I like him a lot."
Sinmir smiled heartily, grey eyes dancing. "Glad to hear it, Vrael. It warms my heart to know you enjoy the company of my brother. Not many people do, uptight lark that he is."
Yuragh gave him a dark look.
"Don't tell him things like that," he said stiffly, jaw tight; he furiously dried his eyes. "You make it seem as though I'm a prude who hates everyone who doesn't live up to my standards."
"What can I say? You give that impression sometimes," Sinmir said, shrugging. "There are times when I wonder, what with how you used to go on and on about how Maud is the only--"
Yuragh quickly flushed bright red and put a hand over his mouth.
"You are not to discuss that!" he hissed, shooting Vrael and Amelia a scathing look. "Especially not among strangers!"
"Come now, Yuragh," Sinmir said with a muffled laugh, pushing the man's hand away and clapping him on the back, "you should know that there are eyes and ears everywhere in the castle. Everyone likely already knows you fancy her, and nobody thinks differently of you for it."
Yuragh squeezed his eyes shut and let out a heavy sigh.
Vrael, on the other hand, felt a little surprised.
"You fancy the lovely old woman we met earlier?" he asked, brows raising. "Really?"
Yuragh gave him a sullen expression.
"Indeed," he said stiffly, then glanced away with an angry flush on his pale skin. "I am sure you now think I am hideously revolting for loving a widowed woman thirty-two years my senior."
"Oh, come now, Yu," Sinmir sighed, giving him a reprimanding expression. "You're twenty three, the same age as me, and Maud is only fifty two years old. She's quite eligible!"
Vrael frowned, then stepped forward, folding his arms.
"I actually agree," he said curtly. "My mother is actually nearly twenty five years older than my father, so there's really nothing wrong with loving someone that much older than you. You can fancy whoever you want. Plus, Sinmir obviously cares for you, which means you're trustworthy, and I think that particular aspect is worth more than your preference in lovers."
"Nobody asked you," Yuragh said coldly, looking at him in barely masked irritation.
"So? Be that as it may, it's not revolting," Vrael flippantly shot back with a shrug. "You don't get to pick and choose who you care for, or even how much you care for them, or what way those caring feelings change after they're present. Love just happens. No need to be ashamed."
"See?" Sinmir chuckled, patting Yuragh's shoulder when he drew back with a frown. "He's a good kid. I knew he would understand. You really do always manage to find cause for worry."
"I am the captain of the guard and the king's adviser," Yuragh growled, "it's my job to worry."
"No, you are a philosopher," the prince returned. "You have your current jobs because you're the most intelligent man in this entire country, and also because you always analyze everyone and figure things out before they can go wrong! You're even better at reading people than I am."
"He is?" Vrael asked, eyebrows raising suspiciously. "Really?"
"Aye," Sinmir confirmed, smirking when Yuragh looked away, embarrassed. "He probably sought you out to analyze you, as well. In fact, he actually analyzes me all the time."
"He does?"
"Aye!" Sinmir exclaimed. "He tells me quite often that I am meddlesome, and far too interested in the affairs of other people! Can you believe that?"
"It is hard to believe," Vrael remarked, immediately thinking otherwise.
"And you know what he says about my father?"
"What?"
"He claims that King Grinwald himself is too oblivious to danger!" he chuckled. "He says that the men in my family are much too flippant and whimsical for his taste."
Vrael couldn't help it. He laughed.
But to everyone's surprise, so did Amelia,
"Well," she giggled, "I guess he is good at reading people. Nice observation, Yuragh."
"What?" Sinmir asked, frowning. "Surely you don't mean you think I am meddlesome?"
"Of course not, my meddlesome friend."
His mouth fell open. "You just said it!"
"No, it is but your meddlesome imagination."
"Amelia!" he scoffed, offended. "How dare you?"
But his eyes showed that he was extremely amused, and Vrael laughed at his twitching mouth.
Soon, everyone but Yuragh was joining in with his laughter.
"Look, this is none of your concern," the half-orc finally barked, casting them a scowl. "Sinmir shouldn't have said anything about my--"
"But I should have, and did, Yu," Sinmir interrupted, all laughter gone as he stepped forward and brought their faces very, very close together; the halfling's words died on his lips. "Listen to me."
Yuragh's eyes stared into his own without blinking.
"Fine," he said softly. "I am listening, but you should know that it is only because you have ever given me this look once before."
Sinmir didn't so much as twitch.
His face was made of stone, and just as heavy. He suddenly looked years older than he was.
"Much... has change for me during the last year, Yu," the blonde man said softly, setting his hands on the halfling's arms. "So much, that I've had no time to really grieve. I found... a group of kids who needed my guidance, terribly, and through them, I may have even found a shred of a possibility at having real love again. A future. That boy... that girl... please, treasure them."
Yuragh's eyes instantly widened, which raised his lashes, revealing how large his eyes were.
"Treasure them?" he asked. "You care for these young ones that much?"
"Indeed I do," Sinmir said thickly, smiling faintly with a trembling mouth. "I love Vrael, and Amelia, and the other three hapless kids that we all left behind to beg my father for help. I've somehow come to love them all in the same way that I love you, Yuragh. And right now, those same kids... they all need our help."
"Our help?" Yuragh asked, looking at him with a wrinkled brow. "Sinmir... why are you so invested in aiding children from a foreign land? What happened to you during your absence?"
Sinmir's face changed then, and a storm of emotion that Vrael barely recognized warped his features into something almost frightening. He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned around Yuragh's ear, bring his lips close to it.
"All you need to know," he whispered, grey eyes glittering with anguish and hate, "is that the same monster who ruined my life is now targeting two of the adolescents I left behind to come here, and after learning over time of the horrific things they've endured at the hand of the one who also caused my suffering, I refuse to not help them."
Yuragh went from being slightly disbelieving and perplexed to frozen with shock.
Mouth opening and closing, he clutched Sinmir's shoulders with shaking fingers, and Vrael was winded when a blast of powerful emotion shredded through his entire being. Amelia suddenly clutched his arm, making him jump and glance at her, doubly startled.
"What's going on?" she whispered so softly that only he could hear her. "What are they referring to? What happened to Sinmir that we don't know about?"
"I don't know," Vrael whispered back, concerned. "It must have been bad though. You can't see what I just saw, but his expression... he's been hiding something really, really unpleasant."
"Eh?" Amelia whispered, eyes lighting up with fear. "Oh, Gods..."
They fell silent when Yuragh stepped back, clutching his mouth in utter shock.
"You really found him?" he whispered, wide eyes brimming with horrified tears. "The boy you brought back mentioned an assassin, but... but can it truly be the one who..."
"Aye, I'm certain of it," Sinmir said, and before Vrael's eyes, tears began to spill down the blonde man's face, tears which went ignored. "The girl... the one we left behind... she was attacked by the same man. Everything matches up. I was right about everything. My fear wasn't groundless."
"How do you know?!" Yuragh urged, breathless. "Sinmir, what proof do you have?!"
"On her throat was the same shallow cut," he croaked, gritting his teeth, "on her arms, the same gashes and markings as the ones before. And when she was found, still alive and breathing but close to death from the blood loss, her savior found a bread flower next to her head."
"What?! Who did it?!" the man cried. "Who is it, Sinmir?!"
"An assassin employed by King Osric Votrin," the prince whispered, "and right now, that same monster is targeting more people that I've come to love, Yu... please. I'm asking for your help not as a prince, but as a man desperate for aid. I need your help and the help of my father."
Yuragh's knees suddenly gave out and he thumped to the floor, long white hair pooling on the ground behind him. Vrael and Amelia backed away when he brought his hands up and clutched his face, staring at the crimson carpet with wide eyes gone blank with shock and terror.
"This can't be so," he whispered, shocked. "I can't believe it. The King?! The King of Aerika did this?! But why?! Sinmir... Sinmir, is it true that you were right all along?!"
"Aye..."
And when he broke down into tears and covered his eyes with a hand...
Yuragh's eyes shifted and a cloud of hatred and calm venom rose out of his body.
He slowly rose to his feet, head tilted back.
"Do not cry, my brother," he said calmly, collectedly, sinfully hateful. "I was wrong to doubt you, and doubly wrong to think that bastard of a tyrant wouldn't dare to touch our people. Come. You and I are going to inform the King that you have proof that the man who murdered your wife and son was hired by the king of Aerika. And then, we are going to declare war on them."
And just like that, the world dissolved and Vrael felt his heart come to a screeching halt.