We approached a main checkpoint to enter the city and were met immediately by the Royal Guard. A dozen men awaited us in impeccably polished armor, each wearing a white tabard that bore the Chaddington lion crest. The soldier at the head of the group bowed and saluted Chad.

“A glorious day, your Highness, and it has now been made all the better with your safe return.”

Chad raised his hand in greeting. “At ease, Duncan. I know you’re only here as a mock pleasantry from my father to disguise his anger while awaiting my delayed return. Let us continue towards home and get this over with.”

“As you wish, your Highness.”

Duncan bowed again, spun on his heel, and signaled for the other troops to do the same.

I tried not to giggle, as the moment didn’t call for it, but I couldn’t help but be amused by Duncan’s wild and thick faded blonde mustache that angrily grew out of his helmet and away from his face. It was coarse and stiff and almost had a character apart from Duncan, himself.

Duncan was an older man, in his late 40’s at best, but his grayish eyes were still vibrant and alert. As expected from a man of his position, they hid the darker experiences of his years of service. The way Chad addressed him, it was clear there was something deeper there than royalty and protector.

We made our way through the main thoroughfares of Torzoa, and I was immediately hit by a weird feeling in the air that I just couldn’t put my finger on. The main streets were properly kept and clean, lined with cheap street shops leaning up against worn stone buildings. Everything looked normal for a main thoroughfare for the Capital: exciting and busy. The mood of the group had adapted Chad’s more serious nature, especially once we were joined by Duncan and the guard. However, each shop had a glimpse of something that piqued my interest, and it took all I had to not stop to browse, and instead keep pace with the escort.

And yet, despite it all, there was a foul smell in the air, like there were too many people who needed a shower cramped in a small space, or a fart in an elevator. It wasn’t as bad as I had expected, but it was close. I was certain the people living this far from the mountain were among the more impoverished of the people who called Torzoa “home”. While most of them wore clothes that were dirty and threadbare, none appeared to be outright beggars, though it was possible those people could be found deeper in the bowls of the city. Still, there was a sense of danger just around the corner or over my shoulder that I couldn’t quite place.

Something is off here.

The further we got into the city, and closer to the mountain we got, the more Torzoa started to resemble the grand capital of mankind that Chad had boasted about. The buildings were larger and of more varied sizes, with more care taken into decorating them with different vibrant colors. Banners and ribbons in the Chaddington white and red adorned everything.

Once at the base of the mountain, the building designs went from impressive and expected for a capital to extravagant and grandiose. They were all scrubbed white and pristine, as if they were tended daily. There wasn’t a curved line amongst the architecture anywhere. Everything was sharp and tall, with straight lines and an unfeeling, impenetrable surface. As if walls themselves, they projected an unspoken message to anyone who resided on the other side.

“The unclean do not belong among the Gods” they seemed to say.

The buildings were packed so closely together that they formed their own barrier to the outer circle, creating an inner ring of citizens walled off and oblivious to the living conditions on the other side.

Ignorance is bliss.

As we finally made it to the inner circle of buildings, there was yet another gate to bar our path. Had I not been in my present company, my tour of Torzoa would have stopped there. Had it not been for the stark contrast in living conditions and indifference of the citizens who considered the inner circle home, I would have completely missed the irony that, even in this world, there was such a thing as a “gated community.”

The inner circle was comprised of shops and homes aligned to the expectations Chad had painted for me. None of them were in a state of disrepair or looked in danger of collapsing. The homes lined up on the main streets looked capable of comfortably housing generously sized families. None of the clothes being worn looked like laundry day was a suggestion. Why these luxuries only extended so far from the Castle itself I could only guess.

Finally, we made it to the castle walls, where a drawbridge was lowered to allow us to cross a perilous man-made pit. Now that we were closer to the castle walls, I noticed that they actually did rise up from the mountain base itself. The craftsman who envisioned the creation of the castle had not been daunted in the difficulty of their vision, and had mined and dug down into the mountain itself to create separation from the original mountain slope and its heart. The walls had been carefully shaped and sculpted to allow parapets at their top and more soldiers to observe below.

The mountain had been effectively shrunk from its natural girth to allow space for the courtyard within and the castle was built into the mountain itself, with its old slopes now its walled protection. Considering the work and time it must have taken to accomplish such a feat of engineering, I found myself impressed for the first time since entering the city.

The large courtyard was completely manufactured with rock and stone, not a green blade of grass in sight. Steps to the left of the castle entrance were attended by four heavily armored guards and wound up the mountain peak to Obarith’s temple, allowing access to it only after one had made it into the castle grounds first.

We finally dismounted and followed Duncan and the guards across the courtyard. All of us, save Chad, were forced to disarm before entering the castle itself. The yawning entry way of stone doors extended outwards, beckoning us to the heart of the mountain beyond.

Once inside, we faced a massive stony grey entrance hall. The open floor plan was strewn with plush, gold carpets to cover the colorless, cold polished floors. The rank and file of the guards disbanded and disappeared through side rooms and hallways, leaving us with only Duncan as our escort.

Chandeliers and torches were mounted excessively throughout the open space, illuminating even the furthest corners in attempts to eliminate any shadows. The carved vaulted ceiling betrayed the castle’s location inside the mountain and was polished and painted with motifs of mankind’s early history on Eitania. There were large depictions across it that consisted of whom I could only assume were the Gods of Light, granting primitive mankind boons and favors.

“Does the Crown do anything small?” I whispered to Dorian.

I was speechless up until now, taking in the sights before me, both repulsive and impressive. Every new sight observed since entering the inner circle and the castle seemed to be a battle of dominance from one craftsman to the next.

“Just wait until you see Obarith’s temple,” he whispered back.

That sounded both intriguing and terrifying.

We approached a large set of immaculately carved stairs that stretched easily twenty feet across and comprised of at least a few dozen carpeted steps. Halfway up, waiting for our arrival, was a young well-dressed man. With only a glance, I immediately knew he was Chad’s younger brother.

They both sported the same Chaddington blue eyes, though the sibling’s lighter blonde hair was grown out a bit and tickled his ears and neckline. His frame had not filled out like his brother’s yet, but as he got older, they would be difficult to tell apart. He was wearing a stylized golden dress collared tunic covered by a snow white vest, as well as very nice matching dress pants and shoes. There was also gold trimming on the hems of his vest and pants, as well as a blooming golden lily decoration adorning his left thigh. He had a chain that crossed from a button on the vest to his left breast pocket, where lay the blood red lion crest that his brother also boasted.

His posture was anything but royal, however. He was standing on the steps waiting for us in a relaxed pose, with his hands in his pockets, and he was leaning on the railing. I don’t think I had ever seen Chad lean on anything. He was grinning from ear to ear, a look all too familiar to me, but it was directed at his brother.

“Look who finally came home!” He opened his arms wide in a jubilant welcome as we joined him midway up the staircase.

“You know, when Duncan returns from an important mission from Blackwall, one expects that the prince hand picked to be Father’s envoy for said mission is to return with him.” His grin got even wider, which seemed impossible without swallowing half of his face.

“Imagine Father’s surprise when you were not only not where you were supposed to be, fulfilling his duty, but were later to be found organizing fights in some backwater town on the outskirts of nowhere. Fights that offered prize money from Father’s own coffers, no less!

He clapped Chad on the shoulder, “I hope to Obarith, Himself, that you have a good excuse. Father has been seething and anticipating your return for months.”

Chad hadn’t stopped scowling since his brother had started talking and shrugged his shoulder to jostle the younger man’s hand away.

I coughed, “Going to introduce us, Chad?”

Chad had hurried on past his brother, but my prompting forced him to stop. His fingers were grasping the bridge of his nose, his eyes pinched shut with annoyance.

“I was hoping to avoid this…” I heard him mutter.

His frustration evident, he didn’t turn back to face us for a proper introduction, instead merely extending a hand casually outward, “This is Maximillian, my brother and fifth in line for the throne.” He finally did turn then, a malicious smirk on his face, “Or is it seventh? I can never keep track.”

Maximillian ignored the obvious ribbing, “The more you keep mucking up, the more opportunities I have to keep rising, my dear brother!”

He then spun to me, Chad completely forgotten, “And who is this enchanting flower?”

He gently took my hand and lightly kissed the back of it. His lips were incredibly soft and lingered only a moment, the perfect amount of time for the gesture. I knew the kiss was coming but I didn’t pull away. I was certain Chad was in for a hard day, but he had been obnoxiously difficult on the road and was earning no pity from me.

Let him watch.

Maximillian then held his gaze there for a moment, watching himself softly pull his fingers back from mine, only to let our tips linger together for a moment. “Such delicate, beautiful petals.” He finally broke the physical connection to look up and lock his gaze with mine. His eyes gave me the same weak feeling in my knees that Ash’s did.

“You may address me as Max, if it pleases you to do so.” He glanced at his brother, “Full names are for people like my father and brother, who appreciate titles almost as much as their own reflection.”

Chad clenched his fists tightly and ground his teeth together before storming off up the stairs.

Max rose and pressed his right hand to his chest to give me a deep bow, “My lady, your beauty mentioned in my brother’s brief letters home did not do you justice! He could have done a much better job at describing the majesty I see before me!”

I felt the heat in my face and knew I was the deepest shade of red. How was this charming prince even remotely related to Chad? It didn’t seem possible. After some difficulty, I was able to tear my gaze away from him and saw Dorian was also unamused.

I cleared my throat lightly to gather myself before commenting, “See Dorian? It’s not hard.”

Max’s grin returned and he also addressed him.

“My dear brother, Dorian! How goes? Still struggling to woo the ladies it seems? Is my brother rubbing off on you?”

Dorian’s attempt to look irritated didn’t hold, as the corners of his mouth broke. He let his face slip into a grin and reached out to clutch Max’s outstretched arm in greeting. “If the women wouldn’t fight how they truly feel about me so fervently, my struggles would be over!” They clapped each other on the back heartily, showing a brotherly bond that crossed bloodlines.

Max then greeted Ash, “And you must be the male descendant of the Goddess my brother mentioned.” Max again bowed in greeting and then addressed us, “Welcome to our fair castle and city! I can only hope you find our hospitality to your liking!”

Duncan interjected, “If you are through with the pleasantries, your Highness, I am sure the King awaits us.”

Max turned and gestured to the top of the stairs with a sweep of his hand. Chad was already near the top. “Of course! Let us proceed!