Erythis felt eyes immediately shift to her as the
Prince-Regent stumbled backward, being immediately caught by Princess Elyadrin
and one of the royal guards. Their sovereign steadied himself as he clutched
his forehead, forcing himself back to his feet.
“Witch!” A nearby citizen shouts at Erythis. She turns on
him, her brow furrowed. The same word was repeated again from another. Though
she was not without her own defenses. Quietly, subtly, the arcane flows in the
air, invisible to the mundane eye, moved toward her, culminating in her hands
which were folded behind her back. She turned once more as another shouted at
her, keeping her body totally still.
With one smooth motion, an armoured arm appears from under
the white fabric that began under his pauldron. His hand is raised into the air
once more, commanding silence. “Silence!” He booms in a strangely stern tone.
The entire crowd falls silent, though Erythis can still feel all eyes on her as
the Prince-Regent does not break his stare with the general area she occupied.
The man looks back to the guards still close behind him, and makes a gesturing
motion toward her.
A few words were exchanged between the guards and the
Prince-Regent, but as he goes to speak to the crowd again, his younger sister
Ellyne calls out: “Vynlarion!” The name echoes across the crowd as a blinding
pillar of azure light appears around the sovereign of the First Kingdom. The
crowd lets out a collective gasp as after a minute, the man is gone. “Detain
her!” The Princess calls out, pointing down at Erythis.
Panic and anger rises through her body as she feels guards
appear around her with their own magic, and the crowd eagerly parts, likely
awaiting some sort of brawl. “I have done nothing wrong!” She calls out, “You
have no right to accuse me of anything.” The guards keep their staves and
swords drawn, but one, whose cape she notices is in fact scarlet and not cobalt
like the others, takes a step forward.
“Indeed. Lady Firestorm, would you please come with us?” The
voice is familiar, and she recognises it immediately, though remains quiet.
With one single nod from the sorceress, the guards move in around her, and the
guard captain motions forward, “Please, come with us, lady. Prince Adrynar
wishes to speak with you personally.”
Looking up at the balcony where the royal children were now
busily speaking with one another, oblivious to the panic taking place in the
crowd. Jostling and shouting could be heard as Erythis passed by, and her
entire body shook with emotion, but she kept her face poised, confident in both
her own powers and the guards that were now occupied with keeping the crowd
back. “I see I have become public enemy number one,” she muses.
“Gods, father, what
has happened?” She mused to herself, the cool visage of her father seeming
all too distant in her memory already. Did he know the Prince-Regent was going
to disappear? How did it happen? How did their ruler simply vanish? “I will
have your attention!” A voice called out. It lacked the imperious nature of the
Prince-Regent, and instead held a concerned tone.
Erythis canted her gaze toward the balcony. The two twin
mage siblings had staves in their hands, pointed down toward the crowds, and
the fiery haired sorceress resisted facepalming at the naked display of power.
Adrynar extended his hands outward as a royal guard pressed two fingers to the
new regent’s neck. “SILENCE!” Adrynar’s voice exploded with painful loudness.
Her own procession stopped moving and the entire crowd
ceased their panicking instantly. The young prince seemed unsure of himself as
he spoke with his ebon haired sister before nodding. The royal guard placed his
fingers back on Adrynar’s neck and he spoke again in the same booming tonality:
“Guards! Close the gates to the city! All houses are to be searched! In the name
of His Majesty, High King Dath’Remar, all citizens are to present themselves at
their doors to determine who has stolen the regent!”
With that said, the prince sagged visibly, his entire form
withering at the cruelty he was forced to dole out. Elyadrin, the eldest
sister, placed her hand on the new regent’s shoulder and turned him, leading
him inside the palace. “Keep moving, lady,” the guard captain instructed
Erythis after a moment, and she was led inside the palace.
Led up countless steps in a dimly lit back staircase after
she entered the palace, her guards remained utterly silent. The hum of magic
was more of a thrumming in the palace and its energies gave her goosebumps. “I
do not see what is so palatial,” she mused, “All I see are old stones and steep
steps.” Her fingers drummed busily against her thighs as she took the steps,
the urge to cast becoming overpowering. ‘Magic
is not a toy,’ her father’s voice chided her, ‘We are not so petty as to flaunt power at the first sign of danger.’
Erythis was no child and knew her father’s lesson well – she
had learned its value outside of her sheltered home life. Even still, the
mystical power that she had learned to master called out to, whispering in her
ear, tugging at her dress, hair and hands, wordlessly pleading to be used.
Thankfully its demands did not need to be heeded as her entourage reached a
single closed door. Surprisingly basic in its aesthetics, a resounding knock
was made upon its surface by the guard captain.
His hand hovered over the door for a moment before a dull
azure glow surrounded its immediate area. Intricate runes appeared before
disappearing as quickly as they had come. The door slowly swung ajar and
Erythis squinted at the brightness of the room. Her eyes took time to adjust, but
when they did she found herself in something akin to a solarium. The domed roof
above her was alive with the midday sky she had seen outside and on the
accompanying balcony she could see below the large walls of the palace
courtyard.
Standing in the centre of the room was a resplendent figure.
Donning a golden overcoat accented with pure white and peaceful cerulean hues,
he looked all the part of the soul of the nation. His blond hair fell down past
his shoulders before ending sharply, while his face, normally one of serene
kindness, was knit in concern. His hands were folded behind his back, but given
his stiff countenance, Erythis could tell he was wracked with panic and
concern. “Your Royal Highness, Prince Adrynar,” she addressed him before offering
a respectful bow.
The young prince, likely a century or two her junior,
offered her a polite inclination of his head, “Lady Firestorm, may we dispense
with the formalities? I’m afraid I’m in no mood for pomp and ceremony today,
given what just happened.” Adrynar kept his figure composed, but the stiffness
and subtle twitching belied his concern.
“Of course, your Highness.” Erythis nodded once more, never
a slouch when it came to respecting those higher than herself in society. She
eyed the male before her curiously before speaking again, “Why have you
summoned for me, Highness?” Adrynar motioned to a nearby table set up with two
chairs, a pot of tea and empty cups and saucers at the ready, as well as sugar
and honey sitting nearby.
With a smooth motion, he dismissed the guard and made his
way to a seat, quickly slumping into it with startling informality. “We have
countless guards protecting us from magical kidnapping, yet somehow the best
guarded of us all is stolen!” Erythis,
seeing her opportunity, reached forward and began pouring the prince’s tea, and
he was taken aback for a moment at her forwardness. “Thank you, lady,” he said
quietly, sadly.
“I sympathise, your Highness. Truly, I do.” Pouring her own
drink, she sipped at it, trying to give off an aura of calm in the presence of
one so tense and overburdened by both matters of state and personal crises
mixing. “But what can I do? Surely there are mages better versed in the art of
tracking spells than I. I specialise in offensive magicks, not being a magic
bloodhound.”
The prince smirked at her latter remark, but remained
otherwise uneasy. “You are right, there are. But Vyn,” he paused, catching
himself referring to the Prince-Regent so informally, “but the Prince-Regent
awoke with such a start last night that the guard were called. They informed me
and when I went to see him he paced the floor with such a stomping I worried
he’d bring the palace down!” He waved a hand through the air emphatically as he
spoke, the speed of his words being spoken increasing with every second.
“When I asked him what the matter was, he snapped at me
“Erythis Firestorm! Find me Erythis Firestorm!” I did as he asked and we were
set to meet with you and your lord father tomorrow. But then he looks over
where you are and just disappears!” Adrynar sagged backward in his chair, his
hands loosely grasping his teacup.
Erythis leaned forward, her crimson tresses tumbling forward
as she did so. Laying a slender hand over the smooth one that grasped the
priceless cup, she gently dislodged his fingers and held his hand for a moment,
giving his fingers a small squeeze. “Peace, my dear Prince,” she spoke in a
tone so soft she found it foreign on her lips, “What do you need?”
Adrynar offered her a small smile before righting himself in
his chair. “I need you to find my brother. Find the Prince-Regent. Find my
brother.” He paused for a moment, and his tone became a more impressive one –
the one he used when addressing the public:
“Find Vynlarion.”
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