Chapter One Hundred and Seventy Seven: Unexpected Attack
When Xaphile returned to go get a guard, his first intention was to return to Ella's side the moment he was able to leave. Those plans changed drastically since only mere minutes after he alerted someone of the assassination attempts, a swarm of armed men wearing all too familiar armor stormed across the bridge holding another all too familiar flag.
The guard he'd found froze, then backed away before bolting down the street.
"ANGELO!" the guard screamed. "CAPTAIN ANGELO!"
Xaphile stood frozen in shock, but a nearby woman saw the battalion and let out a terrified scream, as did a man who saw them. Several people started coming outdoors after that, and all of them had the same reactions, which drew yet even more attention.
Even Bruno, Ninira, and Vordt poked their heads out.
They balked when they saw the capital central's militia, but the woman quickly dragged her husband inside Amelia's house with a flurry of action. It took her a few minutes, but when she returned, she was armed with two daggers and two swords, face set into a terrifying grimace.
"Xaphile!" Vordt hissed, drawing his gaze. "Where is Ella?!"
"Outside the gate!" he hissed back, terrified. "We were attacked by assassins!"
"What?! Is she all right?"
"Yes," Xaphile said, nodding. "Last time I saw her, she was fine. We took those punks down."
"My name is Ralof Vanderin, Guardian of Prince Roland and first lieutenant of King Osric Votrin's proud militia," the armed man riding in the front suddenly said, voice clipped with a snide tone as he looked down his nose at all of them. "We come as an envoy for Prince Roland."
"Prince Roland?!" someone cried. "Why has the prince come to Chisago?! And where is he?!"
"We are here," Ralof sneered, "to collect the traitor of Aerika, Ellameira Rochard."
Xaphile's blood burned, and he folded his arms, following the slow trek of the soldiers with his eyes as they made their way into the ruined city. There was no easy quip on his lips now, only bitter fear curdling in his stomach. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked to see his uncle beside him, a grim look on his face.
"Do not falter," Vordt said lowly, "if they demand anything you do not agree with, only you and Adariel have the right to send them away. Only you. For you are a king here."
Xaphile shivered.
"Hope it doesn't come to that," he said, before steeling himself and stepping forward.
There were no shouts of surprise at his appearance as he stalked across streets towards the man on the horse, no cries of warning or aggression; Lieutenant Ralof sneered at him in a way that was almost smugly insulting, and he resisted the urge to try and kick the man's horse.
It wasn't the animal's fault.
Several of the villagers watched with bated breath, all of them keeping their distance from the soldiers who had gathered at the entrance to Chisago, and they watched pensively as he crossed the muddy space that passed for a street. There was a rumble of noise in front of him, the sounds of numerous voices speaking at once, and nothing sounded friendly.
Xaphile grit his teeth and didn't look back, holding his head high.
"She has committed nothing worthy of being considered treason," he said loudly and clearly, so everyone watching this could hear him. "On what grounds do you have any right, at all, to storm in here like you own this village and demand to take the countess into custody?"
"And who might you be?" the soldier sneered, staring down into his hood. "A street urchin?"
"Actually," Xaphile hissed, baring his fangs; and with a great tug, he jerked his hood off, revealing his sharp horns and long ears. The man balked, eyes growing wide, face paling, "I'm the elder prince of the Nimikan Forests, Xaphile Heseroph, son of Olagrell Heseroph."
Ralof seemed speechless.
Xaphile was mildly encouraged to see that the man was actually intimidated.
Perhaps he did hold some political value after all.
"Forgive me, honored one," he said in a slow, blank tone, eyes wide, "but we have come here on the orders of our king, and we really must have---"
"No," Xaphile growled, clenching his fists. "Leave Nimika and return to King Osric."
"I'm afraid that the code of the country allows us to remain under guest's rights since we've come here with none other than our lordship's son, Prince Roland Votrin himself," the soldier said flatly, his displeasure clearly visible. "For the time being, we are welcome here."
"How marvelous," Xaphile said bluntly, then cocked his head. "I revoke those rights now. Leave."
His words prompted a roar of outrage from the soldiers behind the lieutenant, but he didn't even flinch in the face of the outpouring of wild anger.
"You have shown us the betrayal in your heart," Ralof said with a sneer. "The unfriendly treatment towards the prince himself and disrespecting royal guests of the neighboring province---"
"Unfriendly treatment?" Xaphile barked, incensed. "Bullshit! This is the least you people deserve after what you did to the faeries of these woods and the people living in this town! I won't allow anyone who supports that psychopath to set foot here! Get lost!"
"How DARE you?!" the man roared, face turning red. "You shall not insult the king of this land, even you do dare to break the code of guest's rights--"
"Oh, my apologies," Xaphile mockingly gasped. "Does me insulting the man who butchers children in front of their parents upset you? I take it you're one of the many who supports the slaughter, abuse. and rape of little kids, then?"
"H-how dare yo--"
"Because it's still happening," Xaphile loudly interrupted. "I dare because its the truth. You don't like it? Talk to the man I was just 'insulting' then."
Ralof's grey eyes were narrowed and his face was so red with anger that he looked close to blowing a blood vessel.
"You're treading on thin ice, boy."
"Oh?" Xaphile asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then shall I fetch us all a mug of herbal tea? Yeah, maybe a soothing pot of tea is just what we need to calm our tempers."
"Calm our tempers? You're trying to break a political oath!"
"I made no such oath," Xaphile snapped, face contorting with malice, "and regardless of whatever political oaths may have been made in the past, it no longer matters because King Osric has broken the Treaty of the Four. Everything he put in place concerning Aerika is void."
"He's right!" a woman who he was sure was Mindy screeched from somewhere behind him. "As if we would invite the likes of you to share our food, or take shelter beneath our homes! Filth!"
When one of the soldiers put his hand on his sword and took a step towards her, Xaphile raised an arm, glaring profusely.
"If any of your soldiers touches anyone here," he seethed, claws twitching, "you will all regret it for the rest of your lives."
The leader of the batallion looked down at him through grim grey eyes. His goatee and helmeted head made him look rather sleazy in the oncoming rain.
"You'd best watch your tongue, faery fi-"
Xaphile scarcely even heard the ring of metal before Ninira was beside him with her sword drawn, arm held out to its full range. Bruno was suddenly on his other side, bow drawn.
"Call 'im anything rude," the dark elf said softly, warningly, the notched arrow aimed right at Ralof's shocked, wide eyeball, "and yer dead."
"You even turn your weapons on us! This is an act of war!" he said loudly, waving his hand magnanimously to where Bruno stood seething and Ninira stood fuming. "They are not peaceful, as the king has said!"
"And why are we entertaining such horse dung when you've invaded our home with no regard for our people and demanded that we give you Lady Ellameira, a young girl of only fifteen?!" Mindy, again, screeched. "You were not invited, and you sent no word that you were coming! That is not proper etiquette! Guest rights only apply if you send word beforehand!"
Ralof sneered at her.
"Proves the point, doesn't it?" he said, a hint of triumph in his toothy snarl. "We came here out of mercy. The prince wishes to collect the traitor, nothing more."
"And I say she's not a traitor, and that you are unwelcome here," Xaphile countered. "Leave."
"Are you certain you wish to break the law of guest's rights with the Prince's envoy?"
"We will we not uphold an oath for guests who do not follow the proper protocol, and to be honest, you are extremely unwelcome here," Ninira said coldly, staring him dead in the eyes. "Let it be known that I would personally rather cross the ocean and give my fealty to total strangers than keep an oath to the likes of you."
Lieutenant Ralof drew back, one hand going out to his bar his outraged men from lunging forward.
"So be it," he said sharply. "Let it be known that the people of Nimika are law-breakers. May the gods have mercy on you, for we shall not."
"If that's the way you want to play this," Xaphile snarled, stepping forward in a fit of rage, "let it also be known that King Osric's attempts to assassinate Ellameita Rochard have all failed, and that it has only added fuel to the fire that will be coming his way sooner than any of you might realize."
The man's grey eyes darkened.
"Are you waging war?" he asked politely. "Is that what you are saying?"
"There's no need to," Xaphile snorted. "He's already lost."
"Lost what?" the man sneered. "If you haven't noticed, we have you outnumbered, prince."
Xaphile tilted his head, and decided to play a little bluffing game.
"My aunt is the same faery that destroyed the original Aerikan armies from before this country's founding by simply raising her arms and calling down a storm," he said pleasantly, face breaking into a dangerous grin when the lieutenant's cockiness went right out the window. "I'm not afraid of you, bitch. Leave my lands, leave Ella alone, and stop this illegal persecution."
"Illegal persecution?!" Ralof spluttered, face turning red. "She is a trai--"
He lost it.
Rage came over him in a wave of heated prickles and a bolt of lightning flashed through the air.
"SILENCE!" Xaphile roared above the thunder, making everyone flinch away, even a few of the people behind him. "THE TRUE TRAITOR IS THE ONE WHO BROKE THE TREATY OF THE FOUR BY DESTROYING THIS VERY CITY AND RESORTING TO THE WIDESPREAD KIDNAPPING AND MURDERING OF THE FAERIES TIED TO THIS THIS LAND FOR YEARS AFTERWARDS, ALL IN AN ATTEMPT TO FORCE THE VERY SAME GIRL YOU'RE ACCUSING OF TREASON INTO ILLEGAL SUBMISSION!"
"W-what?! How dare y--"
"I SAID SILENCE!" Xaphile thundered again, and a blue haze obscured his vision, which made the man gasp and shut his mouth instantly. "GO NOW! AND TELL YOU GODFORSAKEN KING THAT WE KNOW WHAT IT IS HE HAS DONE, AND THAT HE WILL BE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE IN THE PROPER, DIPLOMATIC FASHION! GET! THE FUCK! OUT! NOOOW!"
His voice echoed like a clap of thunder all on its own, filling the air before dying off into a distant echo. None could have failed to hear his words. He'd made sure of that. Fuming, he pointed his clawed finger at the drawbridge.
"You heard 'im," Bruno said pleasantly, maroon eyes glimmering with deadly intent. "Get yer arses gone."
When Ralof glared and opened his mouth again, however, Vordt dropped out of the sky right behind Xaphile and glared just as intensely, which made all the soldiers behind him balk. Bonks, Kesh, Klynn, Obi, and Druthmar all did the same, landing beside him with their fangs bared.
Wings were spread wide.
Catlike eyes glowed with magic.
Claws twitched maliciously.
He was sure that they were a fearsome sight, made all the more fearsome with Bruno and Ninira holding their weapons.
"It would be in your best interest," Vordt said with a slow, menacing tone, "to get off of our lands and return to whence you came. You are trespassing here, without permission, for a cause that does not even exist in the way you believe it to thanks to your ruler's foul treachery."
Lieutenant Ralof's face turned crimson and he looked ready to foam at the mouth.
"Attention!" he barked, guttural. "Collect Prince Roland from his personal excursion in the woods and move out! We are returning to the capital."
"May Asgrog the Forger sleep late on the morrow," Vordt growled, crossing his massive arms across his equally massive chest as he stood behind Xaphile, looming like a monster, "because if the sun rises on a new day, and we awaken to find you still on our lands, there will be no mercy for you or any of your men."
The soldiers began to slink away, but Ralof was the last to leave.
"You've made a grave mistake," he growled at them. "This is a direct insult to the royal family."
"Your 'royal family' has the blood of countless primordial faeries on their hands," Vordt said coldly. "From the oldest crone to the youngest newborn, those of our race hold a higher political ranking than any of you who age and die. My sister gave your royal family their title."
"You will wish you had--"
"Enough," Vordt hissed, angrily baring his fangs. "Get. Out."
Ralof snarled and spat near Xaphile's feet.
"This is not over," he shouted. "You can be sure of that!"
"I'd be surprised if it was," Xaphile called, baring his own fangs in a violent grin. "Now, as my uncle said, GET OUT!"
The sound of the rain that had come pouring down out of nowhere hung heavy in the air as the snarls and shouts of the departing soldiers slowly faded into the distance. Behind him, everyone sighed wearily; Bruno and Ninira finally lowered their weapons, and everyone relaxed.
"We need to be cautious from here, Nephew," Vordt said grimly, gesturing to the people standing behind them. "We are all that stand between these people and those soldiers. Obi, Druthmar! Follow those men and make sure they leave! Don't let any of them circle back around."
The brothers nodded sharply and slipped past, flapping their wings and taking to the sky despite the flashing lightning and heavy rainfall.
"Xaphile."
It wasn't Vordt who spoke, but Ninira.
He congratulated himself on not flinching as he opened his eyes and turned to face her.
However, instead of angry, her eyes were fearful.
"Where is Ella?" she whispered. "Wasn't she with you?!"
Xaphile felt his blood run cold, since she'd been outside the gate, and he was just about to respond when a blinding bolt of lightning hit something really close. A deafening bang shook the ground, and some of the people still milling behind them screamed before running for their homes. As the sound faded, he felt a violet tingle smash into his head.
A wave of terror engulfed his being and a disjointed thought floated into his mind.
I was almost dead.
His stomach dropped and his eyes went blank; he latched onto the purple itch behind his eyes and focused, trying to get into her brain and see what she was seeing.
She was running.
Running from something.
Terrified.
He could see trees, could hear the rain, but she was running towards...
Towards the ocean?
"Which way is the sea from here?" Xaphile instantly asked, looking at Vordt. "Tell me. Now."
"That way," Vordt said, eyes crinkling up. "Go. Be careful. Please."
Xaphile thought the response to be a little odd, but he didn't say anything.
Instead, he took off, running towards the drawbridge.