17 years ago

"This is where you were born?"

Wilbur helped his pregnant wife down from the small coach. It was late in the summer days. It was quite beautiful, the skies bright blue and the fields an untamed vibrance that spoke of mystical forces. The forest of Silence was strangely comforting, contrary to its innate intentions. She could feel that power resonating off of her own pendant that now laid upon her breast. It looked the same as when she first touched it when Wilbur had bound her under vows, and her fate turned into that of strife. Even after all, they have achieved, the dismantlement of Talin, the end of the civil war, they felt even more greatly the cost. Two of the godslayers were missing, and only one of their pendants was retrieved. Torlak, Hath, and The Clans, sister nations who have prospered along with one another, find themselves in a delicate state of tension due to the sheer intensity of the fighting that cost lives in all three parties. Their friend, Remmus Mythweaver, had closed off all travel and trade, mages certified by their state ordered to return, and forbade all teaching of Torlakian mystics to outsiders. Hath had become under heavy repair, her sister leading that campaign to brutally wrestle control land from warlords and tyrants lands who had taken ownership in the absence of their cousin. Lizbeth had offered sanctuary for Celia and Wilbur and their children within the capital, but Wilbur denied this request first. He did not wish for their son, barely in his fifth year, to be put into the regular dangers of court life in a place like Hath, and Celia had to agree. They were done fighting, done vying for the powers that be. Though their legacy as warriors will take time to be forgotten, they wanted simpler lives that their peers simply could not provide them. They needed security and seclusion.

So what better place than a lowly town adjacent to the vicious Forest of Silence. A place is known for spawning very few noble warriors, knowing little dangers and abundance. A place of long life and peace. The place that spawned perhaps the greatest swordsman Liontari had ever seen: Broken Arrow. When Celia first laid eyes upon the walls, frail and flimsy compared to the great cities amongst the nations, she also found it a bit charming. No doubt these walls did their job appropriately because the town spread within was quite lively even from afar. In the distance, the main town square where small shops and local merchants made their days, the people as regular as Fate shall dictate living out ordinary days and ordinary lives. Was she a decade younger, Celia's much more adventurous self would cringe at seeing such complacency. But in her wiser years, she sees this place as a beautiful haven. She could not wait to see the city, but first, they stopped near an abandoned house a ways away from the main road into town. It was decrepit and vacant, not a single care given to it. The porch is rampant with weeds, the wood tarnished by the elements and unkempt. Whatever furniture laid within would no doubt be near to shambles if not simply missing.

"I must say that this is quite depressing," she told Wilbur. He was tending them to the horses, removing their bridles, and guiding them to a pen on the side of the horse. Unfortunately, though, the slightest force from the horses would probably reduce the wooden pen to dust anyways. Still, the smile on his face seeing what was before him, said it all.

"It's been over fifteen years, of course, it would look like this," he said. "My mother would sit on this porch here, hum her songs, and sing me ballads of destiny. I do believe that she imbued this place with a spirit of venture. Though dreary now, I intend on making this the home so that our children will stay safe."

He offered his hand to her, which she did accept. He led her up the short set of stairs and inside the house itself. It wasn't as bad as she imagined. The central room was empty, only the remains of some ancient chair lying in a broken pile remaining. The floorboards were warped from rain that undoubtedly poured forth from various unsealed seams between floors and the roof. The stairs that led to the floor above were in disrepair, half of the steps either missing or heavily damaged. Still, she felt something inside her grow warm when she stepped inside, like some invisible being hugged her from beyond the veil. This home, despite its state, invited her, welcomed her to its embrace. She almost could describe it as mystical, but she knew aura was not the cause of this. Instead, it was the memories, memories she could see in Wilbur's face every time he spoke to her of this house, of this town. Of a childhood marred in a mystery that she was raptured by.

"I . . . love it," she said aloud.

Wilbur laughed. "Do you know? We can get furniture from the town. Perhaps someone has spare beds for the children and us. Your sister gave us enough to fix the house and the barn. I could probably eve start turning that land out there back into proper farmlands-"

"You are moving a bit too fast," she gripped his hand, a careful sign from her to pace himself whenever he rambled off like this. He considered her for a moment then smiled again."

"I want you to be happy," he said, kissing her before kneeling and placing his ear against her bulging stomach. "I want us to be happy, Celia."

(X)

Celia's eyes wide awake, as if jarred open. She felt an ache in her heart, and her throat suddenly dried after revisiting the memory. She sat up to see that they were still moving. She must have fallen asleep while they were still traveling the day after setting up that camp. So unlike her. She usually lasts a while without sleep. Perhaps her mind was getting too overworked; she may need the rest. But that memory. Its imprint left a hole in her heart. She looked out of the carriage, the dark expanse of trees. It was difficult to determine whether it was night or day; it was more on a trust of instincts inherited from the wild. Elena and Massua were sound asleep, and Gray decided to be on horseback, helping the other soldiers watch the forest. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her mind.

They are nearing the end of their travels through this damned forest. She opened the sliding window at her side, and as before, Gabbes was galloping beside her in idle chat with his assistant. He was momentarily alarmed by her, but his expression turned expectant of what she was to ask of him.

"How much longer till we see Silondras?" she asked him.

"Within the day, lady Opal," he said, showing some agitation from the question she no doubts bombarded him daily with.

"Then how about we pick up the pace then, Gabbes," she told him. "It's in our utmost priority that we get to the capital as soon as possible."

"We are going the recommended speed for fast travels, my lady," His assistant said respectfully. "Any faster, and our horses will tire themselves out."

"I'm sorry, do the horses hold the reins, or am I mistaken?" Celia snapped at him. "Frankly, I could care less for the well-being of these horses. In fact, I should be telling them that if we are not out of this forest in the coming hours, I might try some exotic recipes I picked from the Umani. They have found quite the taste for horse meat."

Strangely enough, the horses seemed to respond quite well to her threats. Despite the direction of their riders, Every horse in the party uniformly began to sprint as quickly as possible. This sure stirred Elena and Massua awake as their vehicle suddenly turned into a terrifying carnival ride through eh bumpy trail they traversed. Celia watched with intent as they moved forward; several shouts of either surprise or sheer horror ranged out as men tried their most damn to stay saddled or risk being left behind. She recognized Gray's shouts of confusion as his own horse began to resist his control, bolting along while he, like all the others, seemed secondary cargo. Whatever the case, she no longer wished to tolerate this journey. They are so close now, and they will not let anything like the well-being of their beast of burden delay them.

(X)

James awoke in his bed, as always alone. He did not know why, he did not know how, but he felt a terrible presence hanging around him like the dread he was getting a little too comfortable greeting these past few months. He seemed to have been awoken by some distant call, some force that shouts for him from the very distant. He pulled himself out of bed to the tall barred windows overlooking the city and the tall walls that surrounded them. The morning commune was slow, slower than it usually was this time of year. The transition into the new year had its energy. Still, with the fear that James struck in their hearts, a fear-based on some invisible enemy that even he questions pays any heed to him, the people seemed far less in the mood for their normal vivacious activities. He felt some hint of guilt. So be it in the most optimal of circumstances; he could keep his people safe and happy. But he reassured himself that things could be worst, much worst. If random searches, strict curfew, and increased presence of the military police and knights were nothing compared to what he could have done with his authority. Lupurious remained vigil. Aurelius and Novia subdued till called upon. He had gathered every available knight in the area, and the barracks overflowed with swords and gritted faces. But still, this presence seemed to tell him of his inadequacies. It summoned him.

He dressed, he hasn't allowed servants to do such tasks in decades, but today he decided to wear a sword and even a gambeson. Usually, kings don't dress in such a way unless they were under direct threat, but he felt the situation more than called for it; it protests for such a thing. He almost reached for his wardrobe but stopped himself. The pendant still called from within it, and later he found himself mindlessly drawn to it like a moth to open flames. But today, he wanted to do something different. He may not survive the coming months anyway; what harm would there be merely wearing the thing. It would not stand out from the other jewelry that adorns him. In fact, he shall tuck it beneath the gambeson just in case. He just needed something, anything, to soothe his agitation. Even if it gnawed at his thoughts, even if he could not wield its power, the aura of the Pendant of Sight seemed to consol him. As he opened the floorboards of his wardrobe, uncovered the small box, and unlocked it, he felt its nearly overwhelming aura wash over him for a brief moment, as if it contained it within until now. He pulled it on. It didn't empower him as it did before; he felt nothing. But he did feel somewhat safer wearing it. He reet the floorboards and tucked the pendant away, ready to take on whatever troubles this day would bring.

He walked out of his chamber and was nearly startled by the presence of twenty Sentinels standing in the halls silently. The strange men and woman from the assembly stared blankly into thin air as if it would destroy the breeze if it dared intrude. He always found them unsettling. Their fitted helmets, no slots for eyes or even for breathing, left an inhuman quality about them. Not only, but he had never even seen so many in one place. Usually, two accompanied him on his daily tasks, four if he ever wished to go out in public. But twenty. Entire kingdoms could fall with this many. Not even a paladin could lay a finger on him if they ever so tried.

"I do not recognize the aura of some of you," he said. "May I ask about this sudden change in security."

They all saluted, but only one among them spoke. "This added security is to ease your mind, lord."

He chuckled. "Ease my mind, eh? May I ask on whose orders?"

"The Black hand, sir," another said.

"The black hand?" The black hand doesn't order the Sentinels, does he? Sure he operates as a hand of the assembly, but he never heard of that man to give direct orders to the sentinels; he left that task to the Paladin of securities. "Where is the Paladin Lupurious. I would like to speak to him about this."

"He is at the Eastern gates, attending to some disturbance that occurred with some caravan. We will escort you there, Lord James."

He sighed. "Very well then. But do not crowd around; this level of security is utterly ridiculous as is."

He was, however, curious about this disturbance. Since he set up the searches at the front gates, there have been complaints, maybe a few arrests but nothing noteworthy had occurred as far as he was aware. For an instant to require the presence of a Paladin, he was more than wanting to see what the commotion was about. The small platoon of sentinels followed him several paces behind. He did catch a few looks from the regular castle staff as well as other nobles staying temporarily. He promised to chastise the head of the Black Hand, next counsel, for pulling such a stunt, but that honestly goes without saying. It's not that he doesn't believe that the Black Hand has this authority, but he felt far more comfortable putting his life in the hands of people he knows, not some shadowy figure that rarely dwells in the light. No doubt other council members would feel the same way, but he guesses that his discomfort allows a select few of them to find glee within themselves, especially how often he or his father has bullied them in the past over their own function.

The streets were starting to become a bit busier as the sun reached into the sky. His carriage ride was spent in contemplation, more or less on the matters at hand but also reaching back. He suddenly thought back to his time in intense training upon the very mountains of Silondras. The wisdom imparted to him by the old man, and the last words were spoken before he returned to be king of his country. His father was slain in his absence, and the city thrown into terror. The people's hearts have been struck unlike any other time than before. Perhaps this was what the God, Enyalius, spoke of when he said he would be the torch snuffed out. He was indeed the light of the people. He tried his best to console them. He waved and smiled, trying to give the people a faint impression that he was not trodden upon in his worries. But could they see the light sputter under the immense weight of darkness to come He at the Market center, the residential housing and finally the first sector of the city where travelers enter through the Eastern gate? It was quite a surprise to see. Many horses were put on their knees to rest themselves. They looked to have been worked to death or even chased here by something. But he noticed that the riders were the military police and Royal guard; what foe could send the lot of them running for their lives? He got off of the carriage and immediately walked to the heart of the action. The gate was open, but a majority of the horses were still on the outside, along with a swirl of guards arguing relentlessly amongst themselves about the cargo that they had needed to be searched or whatnot. He did not really care, and he was just searching for Lupuriuos. But then he recognized a particularly irate voice that dominated the others, even forcing some to drop their own bouts to listen in. Guards moved aside once noticing him, but the conversation went on. He spotted Lupurious immediately in his golden armor. But the woman he talked to, he almost couldn't believe his eyes.

"I don't give one care fo what that idiot dictates Lupurious," Celia shouted at his Paladin. "Bring him here. Drag him if you must."

"Come now, Celia," Lupurious said. It was rare to see him so defenseless. "Your sudden arrival, don't tell me this does not raise a question. We can't just let the lot of you in unverified."

"Fine," she relented that much, at least. "Then let me in. I'll personally march up and . . . now there you are."

As soon as Celia's gaze fell on James, he suddenly realized that the presence that summoned him wasn't some omnipotent incarnate of Fate himself. No, it was the oppressive and unrelenting nature of this woman. Celia Opal, the wife of Wilbur. She has definitely aged well for living out in the plains, looking as confident as a bull and undeterred that she was speaking above her station. But those eyes, he suddenly felt a child suddenly being chastised for something he may or may not have done. He did his best to stay composed and not show the anxiety that built up within him. As she strode over to him, he sensed a few of the Paladins begin to draw their blades, which he sharply rescinded.

"Drawing swords on me now?" she said to him. "My, the rumors seemed proven. You have gone quite paranoid, have you not, James?"

"Please refer to me as King James in public, Celia," she seemed even more heated, even though 'please' was already an admittance that the balance of powers was not tipped in his favor. "I did not expect you so early, and I thought at least I had another day to. . . prepare for your arrival."

"Well, at least that explains these poor horses," Lupurious gestured. "I get that you are acquainted with our lord, but you can't just barge in like the raging beast that you are and cause a ruckus Lady Celia."

"You call this a ruckus Lupurious?" she asked him. "You must forget who you are referring to."

"Then allow me to retract my statement," he said. "Would havoc or catastrophe suffice more than ruckus than?"

"Let her pass, Lupurious," James sighed heavily. "We don't need this to be any more than it is. You know she is a trusted asset to this kingdom."

"I can agree with half of that statement," he waved his guards away. "Very well then, you may proceed. please don't destroy anything."

She did not dignify him with even a retort. Massua, while passing, did bow to him, as well as Gray and Elena before proceeding to follow James to his own personal chariot. Unfortunately, there was only four, Elena seated next to Massua and Celia taking her seat next to James. Gray had to walk alongside them as they traveled with the twenty-odd sentinels that watched him intently. Even if he could not see their eyes, their judgment was not a reassuring experience. He poked out like a sore thumb among them, even if he was a knight. No doubt it was found odd that two women and a knight had found themselves seat sin the king's own carriage first day in the city, and no doubt rumors may spread. But sitting next to Celia was the most unrelaxing occasion he could think of.'

"Thank you," she told him. "For sending the Royal guard, I mean. We were under quite dire circumstances before meeting up with them."

"No need to thank me," he said. "Thank that boy from Nul; he gave me word of what has been happening with you and your boy."

As soon as James said that, he looked to Massua, who was frozen in place staring at him like a mouse before a beast that had yet noticed it. He tried to settle the tension in his body while addressing her. "I'm sorry if I risk being rude, but I don't believe we met."

"No, no, how rude of me," she spoke up. Massua found it to compose herself. She was in front of the king. Even though her mother was being her usual self doesn't mean that she was to act accordingly. "I am Massua Opal, Daughter of Wilbur and Celia Opal, and it is a pleasure to meet you."

Hmm, she could feel Vermilliiaa's judgments in her mind. Yes, he is most definitely a king. Though he nearly cowers in the face of your mother, I find that quite understandable.