The city's towers reached up into the grey sky, and broke through a sea of clouds. The city itself was nearly lost in the fog of the mountain upon which it sat. Vicar knew that the ground below his feet was filled with Ferenorian blood. The wars of his father and grandfather, the wars of the Devos Dynasty, many had been fought in the fields of Highland.
But the city which once stood sturdy upon the mighty mountain, was now far more vulnerable than it ever had been before. But it was not because of the walls, or gates, or even the mountain itself. Instead, the city had fallen weak because of the weak mind of the one who ruled it.
Near the end of the Great War, Connor Vanderst, king of Highland, went mad. His mind filled with a sickness that soon crazed the words of his tongue. He grew to believe that his own son was plotting to kill him, and to take his throne.
After the king fell ill, the Queen took the throne not as a Vanderst, but by her maiden name of Emerick. But it was not long before the mind of Meriam Emerick was also diseased with insanity.
Her son, Prince Barenton Vanderst, had escaped Highland, after his father had ordered him dead. And his whereabouts were unknown. All the queen wanted was to see her son return safely, and the pursuit to find him tore ate her frail mind. And in all her days, she was tormented by the desire to find him.
Ferenor never heard word from Highland. The queen never read the raven's messages. And Vicar wondered how successful he would be in convincing Lady Emerick to join them in the attack against Oaksguard.
Though Kline claimed Highland as his own, the queen had never formally bent the knee. When Kline learned of her fading mind, he sent word to the kingdom and claimed it as his own. Because the queen never attested his claim, Kline assumed himself the city's king. Yet, like much of The Realm, his rule over the city was questionable.
Vicar rode the path up the mountain, until he arrived at the city's gate, a city which sat higher than any other in Miriela. But his arrival was quickly contested.
"What business could a man wearing that sigil have in Highland?" Asked a guard who stood at the gate.
"There's plenty of men who have worn that sigil North. They're all buried in the fields below," Another guard said with a smirk.
"I bring word from your king, Kline Wullmont. I must speak with Lady Emerick," Vicar said, ignoring their remarks.
"Our king? Well what do ya' know, Lillard, we have a king!" Said on guard to the other.
"I had no idea we had a king! Well if he's our king, then surely he must be within our own walls, surely he must be of Highland," The guard name Lillard said.
"Indeed, Lillard. But last I checked, there is only one who commands Highland, and her name is Meriam Emerick," Said the guard.
"You take your king's orders and piss on them. Highland is no part of your realm," Lillard said.
Vicar's patience was growing thin. He was already enraged with his own failure. The thoughts of his defeat at Oaksguard had traveled all the way with him, from Ferenor. He felt like a man ready to snap at any moment. And the remarks of two young guards proved more than his already tired patience could take.
Without another though, Vicar drew his sword and jumped down from his horse. He slowly began to walk towards the guards, who had stopped their laughing, and now held swords of their own.
"I am Vicar Alaine and I do not wish to entertain your arrogance. I have heard enough of your words. You are impeding the orders of the king. And I will no longer tolerate it," Vicar said.
The men stood frozen, unsure of what to do. The surname of Alaine was know everywhere. They had been commanders of the Vanguard several generations, and were known as some of the most talent swordsman in history. But before Vicar could get to close, the guards put down their swords and turned the levers to open the great iron gate.
The looked at him with hatred, disgusted eyes that wished Vicar death. As the gate opened, there was a single man who stood on the other side waiting. He was dressed in armor, different from the guards. His amour was that of a commander, and Vicar felt he knew exactly who the man was.
"I heard the name of Alaine at my gate. The last time I heard those words I was in my youth, fighting Breudith Alaine in the fields," The man said.
"Breudith was my grandfather," Vicar responded.
"Which makes you Vicar," The man said. Vicar responded with a simple nod.
"My name is Peter Seraphim, Commander of the Highland Army. And so I must ask you then, Vicar, what should I make of the Vanguard Commander arriving at my gates?" Peter asked.
"I carry with me orders from the king. I must speak with Lady Emerick, the news is urgent," Vicar said. Peter looked down towards the dirt. He was much older than Vicar. His head was nearly bald, though a few grey hairs remained. His face was withered and dry. His lips were crackled and his voice was rough. His armor was mighty, but Vicar could tell it no longer housed a mighty man.
"Why not send a raven? The flight of a bird is much quicker than travel of a man and his horse," Peter asked.
"So that you could discard it? Like you have with any other raven's message that has come from Ferenor?" Vicar asked.
"Fine. I will permit you to speak with Lady Emerick. But only under my watch," Peter said with a sharp glare. "Leave your horse with my men. This way." Peter turned and started his walk into the city.
Vicar followed behind, as they traveled Highland's cobblestone streets. Vicar had never set foot in the city before, he was surprised at how similar it felt to Ferenor. Peter did not say another word until they reached what appeared to be the keep.
"I take it you understand the Queen's condition?" Peter asked.
"I do," Vicar responded.
"Well, you are about to see for yourself why those raven's letters were never returned," Peter said.
The two entered into the keep and found a woman sitting upon a throne, the room nearly empty. She was mumbling something, not quite loud enough to hear, but Vicar could see her lips moving without direction. Her eyes were stuck in a gaze, somewhere between life and death. She sat with noble posture, her back straight, arms rested about the throne, and her neck tall. Light poured in from the few windows that weren't covered with drapes. It was a strange throne room, far less celebrated of a throne than Vicar had ever seen.
"My Queen," Peter said. But Meriam Emerick did not respond. "My Queen," He repeated himself, this time much louder. Yet the woman on the throne remained in her trance, as if she was entirely unaware of their presence. Peter took a few steps forward and tried a third time.
"Queen Emerick, the Commander of the Vanguard Royal has brought a message from Kline Wullmont." Peter approached even closer, until he stood beside his queen at the throne. Vicar followed, taking a few steps closer, though still far enough that he could not hear the whispers that Peter delivered to Lady Emerick's ear.
Though, the queen's response was plenty obvious. As soon as Peter was done speaking, she seemed to return to reality. Her gaze into the abyss had halted as she loudly spoke.
"Find him, tell Charles to find him at once. It's getting late, he'll need to return to the keep in time for dinner." The queen paused. Her words were clear, and her speech sounded sane, only lost in context. "Peter, need I ask again? Go on," She said jokingly with a smile. "The prince must become a strong king, and he'll remain weak if he misses his dinner. Charles will fetch the boy, his old bones could use a nice walk."
Peter had a look of disappointment on his face, or maybe embarrassment at what his queen had become. He left her side, and walked back towards Vicar, as the queen's gaze and her mumbling returned.
"Hello Peter," a woman about Vicar's age enter the throne room.
"Iona," Peter responded. "This is Vicar Alaine, Commander of Ferenor's Vanguard."
"My Lady," Vicar said respectfully with a nod of his head.
"What brings you here Vicar? The same could be asked of you, Peter," Iona said.
Peter quickly contested, "Kline Wullmont has sent word. Sir Vicar carries a message for the queen. I took it upon myself to help our guest find his way."
"My mother is sick, Sir Vicar. She is in no condition to hear orders from a King she never swore to serve." Iona shifted her gaze from Vicar, towards Peter. "And she certainly doesn't need any help from you in deciphering them. I am the princess, and I am the heir to the throne. Don't forget that, Peter."
Iona firmly stood her ground. "I will take the letter, Vicar."
After a short hesitation, Vicar handed the sealed message to the princess. "Kline has ordered that the Highland Army join him in the effort to seize the revolution in Oaksguard."
"My army will not travel to Oaksguard and fight a war that belongs to the East," Said Peter Seraphim.
"I don't believe that the East will contain Alina Morione much longer. Her revolution will come West." Vicar stopped and turned to face Iona. "Which is why we must stop her at the Redbridge."
"I was a young girl when the Esterns attacked, but I remember it well enough. I remember the attack from the East that poured into the West. And it was Miriela's own pride and arrogance that allowed it. My mother never bent the knee to Kline Wullmont," Iona said. She looked at Vicar with uncertainty. "Surely another sign of her failing main. If Miriela is to stand, it must do so as one. Let us remember the past, in hopes that it will not repeat. Commander Seraphim, the Army of Highland must join Ferenor at the Redbridge."
"Princess, please do not forget your position. You cannot speak on behalf of the Queen. The decision is hers alone to make, for she sits on the throne. And I am unwilling to lead my men into Kline Wullmont's battle. Oaksguard is a city of The Realm, and therefore is a problem for Kline Wullmont to fix, not Meriam Emerick," Peter argued.
"Your men will fight her one way or the other, Commander. If not at the Redbridge, then at our own walls," Said Iona.
"I fear the princess is right, Peter," Vicar interjected. "The peasant woman in Oaksguard is much more capable than I first assumed. But she took half the Vanguard from me, and now she has a fleet. The Seafares sail in her name."
"And her revolution has grown under Kline's watch." Peter grabbed the letter from Vicar's hands. "I am the Army Commander, and so I will have my council with Queen, to discuss the matter." Peter took several steps towards the throne, before turning to face Vicar and Iona once more. "In private."
Peter continued towards the throne. Iona motioned for Vicar to follow and the two exited. Iona walked swiftly through the castle halls. She was a beauty like Vicar had never seen, and his eyes could not turn away from her purple dress, as it flowed off her dark skin.
The winding halls eventually lead them to a bedroom. Iona entered and sat on one of the couches. The room was full of elegant furniture and a small table at the room's center. Vicar joined the princess, and sat in a white chair, just across from where she sat.
"The two of us don't agree on much. Especially when it comes to my mother," Iona said.
"You're the princess, why not go speak with your mother yourself?" Vicar asked.
"A princess has little use in Highland. As Commander, Peter has every right to speak his thoughts in my mother's ear. Whatever thoughts she has left are hardly her own. Peter may not sit on the throne, but he controls it." Iona brushed her dark hair aside. "If my mother was in her right mind, she would have bent the knee to your King. It was only Peter that fought it."
"Why fight a union that was needed to survive? Fighting together was the only way to keep Miriela safe," Vicar said.
"Peter knew that if another ruled over Highland, he would lose his stolen throne. He's been whispering his wishes in my mother's ear since her mind started to craze, years ago."
"But if you sat on the throne, you'd be willing to give it up?" Vicar asked.
"I'd be willing to do what was best for my people. And if that meant joining The Realm, then yes, I'd relinquish my throne," Iona replied.
"You may have the chance someday, God's willing, to put your claim to the test," said Vicar.
"I'll sit on the throne someday I'm sure. And when I do, Peter Seraphim will not be let through this castle's doors."
Vicar laughed. Iona was an interesting woman, and Vicar glad he'd met her. Perhaps there was some good to come of the loss in Oaksguard, for it sent him to Highland. Vicar felt a strange sense of hope. For the first time since his return from Oaksguard, he felt a weight of angst had been relieved, if only for a moment. As he sat with Iona, Vicar felt more at peace than her ever had before.
Yet, he knew his time in Highland was to be brief. He had delivered his message to Highland, for better or worse. But Kline had ordered him much further North than Highland. The Unknown North was waiting.