Any magister, sorceress, witch or any kind of magic-borne
individual aspired to instantaneous transportation, but it took tact to realise
that such methods of transportation were ostentatious and easily spotted. As
such, Erythis avoided such a ruse and readied herself for a long ride.
Stepping out of her room adorned in the same crimson dress
though now with riding boots, she cut a curious figure. Striding down the hall,
she purposefully avoided the catwalk where the timepiece had been found. “I
won’t be deterred,” she whispered to herself as she turned a corner and was met
with a spiralling set of marble stairs. She descended them hurriedly, her boots
clopping noisily as her mind raced. How would she convince the palace to let
her see the prince? Which prince was it?
Erythis slowed in her descent, doubt coming over her mind. “What if it never happened?” The thought
stopped her completely, and a sickening feeling of self-doubt overcame her, “What if I’m just exaggerating some dream?”
She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, her hands fiddling with the
fabric of her dress.
With a slow, anguishing movement, she turned around, any
sense of pride in herself destroyed as she prepared to return to her room to
sulk like a pitiful child. As she went to take the first step, the face of the
unknown enemy her other self had battled now was the reason for her to stop.
The high cheekbones, azure glowing eyes, full, pale lips, hair and skin equally
silver in hue – but it was not her exotic likeness that gave Erythis pause, it was
instead the malicious and sinister quality of the being’s spirit. It was as
though its evil pervaded the physical realm.
Erythis stumbled to the side as the vision accosted her,
suddenly overcome with nausea and vertigo. She clutched against a nearby window
sill, failing to will the world to cease its spinning. “Erythis!” a tormented scream echoed in her head as she heard the
old knight bellow her name brokenly. The sound of armour being pierced scraped
afterward, and the gurgling, choking of that knight collapsing forward followed
shortly thereafter.
“NO!” the sorceress screamed defiantly against the injustice
of the vision. The tower she descended rumbled ominously as arcane powers shook
its very foundations. She turned, and stormed down the stairs, her fury of
righteous merit as she steeled herself against what now felt more and more like
a memory of her death. “I will not go quietly into the night!” She proclaimed.
Exiting the tower and into the central guardian, she pointed at a guard, “ready
my horse!” She commanded imperiously and marched off toward the main road.
All around her elegant trees, foreign and domestic flowers
bloomed, cobblestone pathways led off to various stately buildings and a few
solitary towers, including the one she had claimed as her own behind her. “This
is taking too long,” she complained, willing her feet to move ever faster.
Buildings passed by her, their exteriors comprised of a cold stone with bright
red pointed roofs. All around enormous trees with crimson and golden leaves
bloomed magnificently. Birdsong was alive in the air and the smell of the land,
healthy and alive, could be enjoyed, but to Erythis none of this could provide
her mind calm.
Ahead of her were the stables as she rounded the stately
banquet hall that often held her mother’s famous balls. Erythis avoided staring
into the forgotten building, know that the only inhabitants of the large hall
were spiders and rodents. “I wonder, was she alive for the me?” She questioned
aloud.
“Mm, potentially. I do hope that you aren’t regretting my
lone parentage.” The cool voice of her father sounded from before her, and she
startled before coming to an immediately halt. Before her stood her father, his
staff in hand, pointed up to the sky. “My dear, time is of the essence, you
must be off.”
Erythis raised a hand in protest, denying her father’s near
patronising tone, but before she could reprimand him, the world around her
erupted into a cacophony of mixing colours. The world around her dropped away
and her entire body was engulfed in magic energies. Her body tumbled to and
fro, but no vertigo disrupted her powerful mind as she was transported: she was
very familiar with this form of magicks and was thankful her father was
proficient to a degree that allowed undetected travel.
The world around her abruptly changed from the cacophony of
colours and into a more familiar setting: the royal gardens. Enormous trees
reached high into the sky behind her, their large branches ceasing to allow in
the bright midday sun upon the large garden. The garden to her back was lively,
but perfectly trimmed, magic humming through – likely spells meant to keep it
in perfect condition – whilst before her was a wide open and paved with stone
pavilion. Around her the palace walls, decorated with flowing golden accents
over white stone and peppered with vines, loomed ominously while the gates
leading into the garden, though not visible, were obviously visible given the
enormity of the crowd in which she now stood in the centre.
The palace itself was a looming structure, the Sunfury Spire
stretching into the heavens, its end glowing with a pure golden fire, an
indication the King was present but clearly not reigning. “Anasterian has not been on the throne in a century, his son is king in
reality if not name. The old man should step aside – his eldest son is no
child.” In truth the eldest prince was roughly a few decades Erythis’s
junior, but made up for it with his grandiose displays, something she was sure
she would now be witness to.
An elderly man to her left accidentally jostled against her,
before looking up at her with wide, shocked eyes. “M-M’lady, pardon!” He
offered a respectful bow, to which Erythis politely curtsied, but remained
silent as the man spoke again and simply offered him a warm smile, “I didn’t
mean to bump into you so – this crowd’s riled up from the news!”
Erythis lofted a fiery brow, “News?” She glanced over at the
opulent palace, its two smaller towers flickering with azure and crimson fires
of their own upon their parapets before moving to the centre one, whose main
balcony was still unoccupied. “Forgive me, elder,” she began, offering the man
a smooth gesture of deference, “What is this news? I have not been in the city
in some time.”
The man’s face contorted into surprise before understanding
– nobility could be unnecessarily reclusive: it was a common complaint when
compared to the otherwise often seen royalty. “I’m not quite sure to be
completely honest with you, lady. The palace has been tightlipped – granted I’m
guessing the Prince-Regent will be speaking, he usually does.”
“That is quite sure, I do hope –“ Erythis found herself cut
off by the blaring of trumpets in the distance. Bright and triumphant, the song
was abruptly joined by the boom of drums and the strum of harps, violins and
other stringed instruments. Flutes and the like could be faintly heard – the
entirety of the song made incredibly loud by magical properties now alive in
the air. She turned to face the main balcony, and found the doors to be
parting.
From the dark alcove inside emerged two pairs of figures,
one following the other, before splitting off and standing at each corner of
the balcony. Each was garbed in a flowing azure robe, though golden pauldrons
arching high into the sky gleamed high. In their right hands was held an
equally golden staff bearing the phoenix that was the symbol of their nation.
Finally a scimitar was strapped to their hips and a crimson faceguard hid their
features.
Following them was a procession of six figures. Each wore
fanciful garb of their own, but could be easily identified. The first pair were
Prince Adrynar and Princess Elyadrin, the second and third in line to the
throne respectively. “Adrynar and Elyadrin,” Erythis commented, “Our lovely
little ambassadors.” Her comment was laced with sarcasm, for although the
palace would never admit it, the royal children were of little actual use and
instead were simply sent to parlay the Prince-Regent’s will. Adrynar had the
same golden hair as the regent, but where the regent held a stern, if somewhat
benevolent visage, he had a kind face with a small smile. His hand was
perpetually raised as he waved to the cheering crowd. Elyadrin’s signature ebon
locks tussled to and fro as she also waves, taking position a distance from her
elder brother, the gap obviously meant for the main attraction.
Following them were Princesses Sarinthra and Ellyne: the
king’s prodigal mage twins. Only a century old and already famous for their
prowess, the two pale girls had dressed identically and offered polite,
restrained nods to the crowds. “I can see the Magistry’s beaten the fun out of
them nice and early,” the old man to Erythis’s side comment, and she offered a
small snicker and a nod.
Finally two of the children Erythis did not often see
exited. Barely visible on the balcony, Prince Dar’thael and Princess Palasona,
the last children the old king ever sired from his late wife, took their
places. Both were trying quite hard to remain dignified but failing as they
waved wildly to the crowd. Palasona was quickly hoisted on Adrynar’s shoulders
and the crowd roared with glee upon seeing the cheerful little girl. “Love ‘em
or hate ‘em,” the old man began, “the people love themselves cute children.”
Erythis let out a laugh behind her hand, her smile evident,
“You are quite right! Who can say no to those darling children?” Adrynar placed
his sister on the ground before the royal song sounded anew. The royal children
and their honour guard turned to face the open doorway as a signature figure
emerged. He was tall, taller than all those around, and his golden hair, a
single streak of silver easily noticed, flowed elegantly behind him as he
languidly made his way toward the centre position.
He wore crimson pants and plated greaves reaching his knees
with pointed spikes, the latter emblazoned with swirling designs. His belt
buckle was fashioned to form the royal crescent and glimmered with each
movement. His breastplate was partially obscured, but it was clear that it was
also of the same golden metal, and was engraved with the nation’s phoenix,
while his pauldrons, a mix of the crimson and gold colourations of his outfit,
arched into magnificent eagles. Obscuring his chest was his cloak, a pure white
garment that covered his arms, revealing only his hands, and had long drapes
hanging forward, fluttering with each movement, while the bulk of the garment
moved slowly behind him.
Upon his forehead was a simple circlet, and though it was
not as ornate as the rest of his outfit, it was the crown of one who was king
in everything but title. Placing his hands on the railing, he raised his left
hand into the air, offering a small smile, his serious face, though youthful,
never breaking from the poise it was always held in. “People of the First
Kingdom!” His voice boomed, the same magic that had augmented the song now
aiding him.
The crowd cheered anew, regardless of his hand implying
silence, “I wish your attention!” His gaze moved over the masses as they slowly
quieted, before staring forward once more. After they finally fell quiet, he
lowered his hand, “For many years I have ruled in my father’s stead as
Prince-Regent. The King wishes me to convey his eternal love and admiration for
your loyalty to the crown and country in both times such as these and those of
strife.”
Pausing for a moment for emphasis, he continues, “I speak
for my family when I say that we are honoured by your fealty to your homeland.
Truly, this is the greatest country known to all the realms!” The crowd roared
in glee once more and the prince seemed content to wait for them to cease.
“I come to you with news that I will be temporarily halting
my duties as Prince-Regent of the First Kingdom.” The amassed peoples fell
deathly quiet at the news as confusion mounted. “In my place, my younger
brother, Prince Adrynar of the Sin’Redar, will be acting as Prince-Regent in my
stead!” The aforementioned brother offered a nod to the crowd before inevitable
occurred: some shouted up to the distant Prince-Regent, demanding to know why.
He waved at them tersely as his eyes scanned the crowd,
before settling on the general area that was Erythis. Though unsure, a sense
that he was looking directly at her overcame her. “I do so knowing that you,
the wisest and most understanding of all the peoples of this realm, realise
that I would not do so unless it were absolutely necessary! Though the details
of my absence cannot be revealed, I can assure you that the duties I must now
attend to are those that concern only the greatest of issues.”
“In short order I shall return and all shall be the same
again, but until that time…” He trailed off abruptly, and those on the balcony
looked worriedly at the Prince-Regent as he gently rubbed his temple. The sight
of the old lord overcame her and she too clutched her head as vertigo overtook
her. The man on the balcony, Prince-Regent Vynlarion the Sixth, was the man in
the other reality.
And it seemed he knew it too.
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