Saturday, March 18, 2017

22. Discreet

I come to notice,
inspite of friends and accomplices;
Inspite of laughters and boastings,
I am weak to my own threats and torturings.

Despite the strength I lend them,
The help to discover their gem;
The smiles and consolation I had offered,
I am painstakingly smothered.

Yet, I chose to toss them all away,
Promised that sorrow is not meant to stay;
And I keep on playing my part,
And I locked away my heart.

I maimed my sanity,
and blamed my curiousity;
to see if I can take the beat,
of loving in discreet.

Pain is inevitable but suffering is optional,
I suffer from the love so unconditional;
but you know, it's okay because all along,
it's your faith in me that had kept me strong.

Sunday, September 18, 2016

21. Bourengard: The Bard of Valmont


Robinson told them to head for Morgendaire if they wanted to cross paths with Alice and warned them that their journey would not be uneventful and that they would have to rely on each other. Either that, or they could just head for Valmont and search for Ignotus the bard. Anthony and Jack had missed Alice by almost a month due to their heavy travelling when they arrived at the slums of Morgendaire. They were shown to the home of Lucinda, or what was left of it. By the time they stood at her gate, there was barely anything left standing that could be recognized as a home. Sure, one could still tell that the place had been once somebody's home because of the crooked ran-through gate and the ripped curtains and busted doors.

'It's like the house had been turned inside out,' Anthony muttered under his breath while dismounting Brock and swung open the gate with no effort. The gate immediately collapsed with his single swing, showing sign of its wreck beyond repair. 'I think I'll take a look inside,' he said to Jack.

'I don't think going about around here is such a good idea, my Lord,' Jack said. 'I mean, look at its state, it's been rummaged, clearly somebody was looking for something here,'

'It's in a slum, Jack. It's only natural that someone broke into the house and search for things to trade at the market,' Anthony countered although there were unwanted chills began to spread inside him.

'Natural enough that the other thieves and rogues and whatever else they have here not bothering to wipe this place clean? Alice and Lucinda was gone for a few weeks, you’ve seen how the people trembled when we asked for the direction. If anyone’s planning to rob the place, don’t you think they’ll be sensible enough to want to avoid the wrath of Lucinda and rob it without getting caught? This is the heart of the slum, Tony, a few weeks are more than enough time for people with pick locking and thieving expertise here to swipe everything in that house without leaving any trace or damage for that matter. This wreckage is intentional,' Jack set a challenging tone this time, disliking all of the negative vibes he was feeling. 'Let's just go to the tavern and ask around,' he suggested. 'Anywhere but here,'

'I don't believe either Alice or Lucinda would leave their home in a state too easy for people, even the people in the heart of the slum to break in and just find stuffs. Not if they’re planning to be away for quite some time. Although, I do agree, this wreckage is intentional,' he said as he tied Brock to a fence nearby.

'All the more reason for us not to enter,' Jack stated matter-of-factly.

'Is that fear I heard escaping from your tone?' the prince challenged his first Council.

'It's a voice of reason; a precaution,' he retorted. 'Tony...' his voice trailed Anthony shot him the infamous serious glare of his.

'Fine, then. Go to the tavern and ask around as you wish.' he said with a resolute voice that could never be mistaken. 'I'll go in by myself. I reckon I shan't be long anyway, I'll meet you at the tavern.' he turned his heels and took confident steps into the ruined house. ‘You’re a Council now, Jacques Von der Mille. You’re no longer my manservant, do your duty as a Council and trust your judgement.’ he said when he got the sense Jack was not budging from his position and still doubting himself. ‘I’m fifteen years old, I’m no longer a measly child.’ he said with the same resolution thundering in his otherwise casual tone.

Anthony entered through the already wrecked door as soon as he heard the steps of Berry’s hooves ceasing from his ear. He was not entirely sure what was he supposed to be looking for so he just wandered through the rooms and aimlessly sifted through the mess. After so much disappointment searching the house, he felt there was a place in the house he had not searched yet, so he went about the house one more time, only to find out he had indeed searched all the rooms available in the house. Unsatisfied, he searched again and had the same result. He did that for a while until his ceasing motivation got the better of him and he settled for a dusty stool in the kitchen.

‘This isn’t I-reckon-I-shan’t-be-long, this is taking forever,’ he remarked sarcastically to himself. ‘Anthony, you pompous bastard, you deserve all the mocking you’ll be getting from Jack when he hears about this,’ he grunted as he decided to just head for the tavern and meet Jack when something caught the corner of his eyes amidst the broken Chinas and toppled table in the kitchen. ‘I could’ve sworn that wasn’t there before,’ he said as he cleared the debris that hid what appeared to be a handle to a trapdoor. He drew an inward snarky smirk to himself when he saw the whole handle and the trapdoor. It was in obvious scarlet colour and engraved in vermillion and golden carvings as if to mock any intruders for not noticing it in the first place. ‘This place reeks of charms and spells,’ he muttered.

Anthony recognized the carvings on the handle that he saw. It was the very same carving that he had seen on the handles of trapdoors and secret passageways in the castle, it was the symbol of Beast War; the war that marked the downfall of the kingdom. Apparently his early years of sneaking around the castle using trapdoors that the servants thought their masters would not find out about proved to be useful. He opened the trapdoor and as he had guessed, there was indeed a passage and he, naturally, he followed it and it led him to the basement that astounded him.

It was not like he was expecting anything when he was treading the steps and passage, but what Anthony saw was definitely not the first thing he thought he would be seeing. It was a whole new set rooms with more stairs heading downwards. ‘Another home in disguise,’ he wondered as he went through the rooms. It was a three-storey house fashioned like the iceberg, only the insignificant tip was visible on the surface and had enormous build hidden underneath. The rooms on the first sublevel was just like the ones on the ground floor. 

The second sublevel was a bit intensely private to his liking. The one side of the room, the walls were engraved neatly with the battlefield of the Beast War, the beasts of the kingdom on one side, the man and the warlocks on the other side. They were fighting against one another, beasts and man. All of them were engraved beautifully, even the spattering of bloods had been precise. A chill ran through Anthony’s spine as he reached the recalled how the war ended. He went on to the other the side of the room and found another door painted the same way as the trapdoor in the kitchen earlier. ‘Lucinda must’ve been a fan of red and all bright fierce things,’ he commented out loud to himself and went inside.

Anthony found himself to be in an armoury chamber when he saw all of the swords, daggers and arrows arranged neatly on the wall along with shelves of chain mails, breastplates, gauntlets, boots and shields on one side and a study or a strategy room not far away from the armoury chamber, divided by nothing but racks and shelves of books with one large table and two smaller, yet about the same length, at the centre. Once again, he wandered for a while through the bookshelves, there were all kind of books arranged; but his eyes were quick to catch the pattern. All of the books were pointing to a specific place in the room and he was quick to follow the clues, it led him to the big table in the middle. A complete topographic map of the entire kingdom was drawn on the table and chalks were neatly arranged by its side. He looked intently at the table and tried to make sense all of the clues. Then, he thought of looking underneath the table and he found a leather covered book taped the underside of the table. He reached for the book and coaxed the lock on its front to open and failed. He tried a few more times and failed every time. He finally let out an exasperated sigh, held his breath and tried picking the lock with his dagger one more time.
‘Charmed or not,
It mattered not.
War cries shouted and arrows shot,
Laze about so and you’ll rot.
Things you may know or may not,
If what’s hidden in me is your weak spot.
The duke whose passion is to read for sport,
Without the duchess with a forget-me-not.’
The writings gleamed against the leathery cover when they appeared and Anthony wasted no time on being astonished and calculated the possible way to outwit the lock. When he failed again, he decided that the book was the sought item. He considered to just leave the book be where he found it, but then he got Jack, who was a better at picking locks than him. Perhaps Jack could unlock the book and reveal what was hidden inside. He leapt through the stairs through his exit as he realized he had been there longer than he intended.

It was already dark when Anthony got outside and when he got to the tavern, the place was eerily silent for a tavern. He was barely approaching the entrance and yet he was getting all of the dreadful feeling that he should not enter. He looked around for any sign of Berry and spotted the mare tied at the very end of the block. He shoved the book into one of the sacks on Berry’s side that carried among others non-essentials that Jack had insisted might be essential on their journey. After feeling rather satisfied at how well he hid the book, he rushed into the tavern and found another sight he was not ready to face; Jack was held with a blade pressed dangerously on his throat by a man with winged inking on his upper face. 

‘The map,’ a baritone was heard from behind the man who was holding Jack and a strange silhouette emerged into the light. The man who had just made his presence known was heavily armed by what it seemed like dragon scales that the only part of his body visible to others were his pair of gleaming blood red eyes. His very appearance was enough to intimidate any opponent; with a build of incredulously gigantic warrior, a Piscean sea serpent’s skull and when he received no reply, his otherwise deceivingly welcoming baritone thundered viciously, yet hauntingly calm throughout the tavern, ‘Hand it over or this man dies.’ It was no longer an invitation but a command.

‘I don’t have the map,’ Anthony said to the alpha of the pack of assailants.

‘Don’t lie to me, boy. I will not hesitate to have his throat sliced open,’ his baritone grew dangerously thinner and approached a more threatening tone.

‘I don’t have it. I don’t even know what you’re talking about!’ he said with just as much threat that he caught the horror mapped on Jack’s face.

‘Search him.’ came the command from the alpha and the rest of his henchmen drew closer to Anthony with daggers and axes at hands.

‘Really, blades and all?’ Anthony asked incredulously at the nearing henchmen with his grip tightened to the hilt of his word, getting ready to draw it as he frantically scanned his eyes through the room for an emergency exit. Luckily enough, the one who was holding Jack had deserted him and joined the rest of the henchmen, leaving Jack unattended for that moment. ‘He said ‘search’, what’s the need in that?’ he drew out his sword and lifted his guard.

‘Be real now, lad. It’s easier to search a dead man,’ the closest henchman who happened to be towering onto him drawled and swung his mace forwards.

As quick as the heavy mace hit the floor Anthony had formerly stood on, he was quick to take a jump back and cut off the chandelier from the ceiling. The chandelier was not big to cause stalling damage to the henchmen, but it bought him time to get to Jack as the flames from its candle caught on fire rapidly as it hit on spilled drinks. Soon enough, the whole tavern was bursting into flames and it smoked up heavily that it was difficult for anyone to see in there. ‘Jack!’ he called out, coughing up the soot that was getting into him. ‘Jack!’ he called again when he heard no reply amidst the roaring fire and clamouring people in the tavern. Then, he felt a tight grip on his leg and he was ready to swing his sword to cut off his assailant when he saw Jack struggling to breathe. He helped Jack got up to his feet and sprinted for their lives out of the tavern and rode off into the night.

***

‘Aren’t we chasing them?’ the henchman asked his alpha. ‘Wickenham?’ he asked again when the silence were only filled by the crackling fire and rumbling of the building behind them.

‘Haven’t you learnt anything?’ his voice stooped lowly. ‘We don’t chase our preys. We’ll lure them to us. Let their safe haven be their trap,’ he called out to the rest of his henchmen and a symphony of eerie laughter accompanied the burning of the tavern and haunted the night.

***

'This is not good, it's not going to hold,' Erica tightened her grip on her Earthbreaker's hilt while her eyes were quick to scan for the next slot to plant her step safely. As if she was dangling by the sword was not dangerous enough, the monster continued to attack her, going head first towards her and leaving her with no choice but to hope for the stars to be in her favour as she jumped from the only thing that kept her from falling to her death with the Earthbreaker swung at the monster.

'Erica!' Brianna shouted as she watched Erica was clinging on the decapitated monster while falling from a height that would long ago killed her just by sheer fear of falling like that. She held out her hand in Erica's direction exasperatedly trying to get her powers to work but nothing came out, not even strings of roses that she used to make wreaths from, not even those came out from her. 'Come on,' she bit back her failing confidence and mustered all the faith she had left in herself and called out fiercely, 'Do not fail me now!'

A sturdy looking branch shot up in Erica's direction whilst rapidly sprouting leaves from its ends to cushion her fall. Erica let go of her hold to the monster as the makeshift tree caught her in time from hitting the ground, however that did not stop some sticks and flowers to get caught in her hair. 'Of course, it has to be flowers with you,' she muttered as she climbed out of the nest like and bushy make-shift tree. 

'You're welcome,' Brianna feigned a hurt look. She was about to ask Erica what was the monster doing in that part of the forest when she noticed something else; the Earthbreaker was not in its sheath. 'Um, Erica, did you by any chance left your Earthbreaker with the monstrosity when you slaughtered it?'

'Why would I leave my beauty of a sword with that ghastly monstrosity?' Erica scoffed at the mere suggestion from Brianna.

'Because it's missing from its sheath,' an unexpected voice came rumbling from above them. ‘I’m Adonis of Eastern Mist, I mean no harm,’ a man jumped from the branch above them, leaving his cloak and revealed the so-much-gossiped-about charming traits of the people from the Eastern Mist.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Brianna managed to hold back her squeal. Brianna, who appreciated beauty and everything even slightly associated to it was enthralled for a while before she recovered. She figured that it indeed took her a while as when she came to her senses, Erica was nowhere to be found and she was beginning to panic.

‘She went back into the water to search for her Earthbreaker,’ Adonis spoke when he noticed beads of sweats were beginning to form on Brianna’s forehead. A hint of amusement at such extent towards a weapon was heard in his tone that earned him a glare from her.

‘You’ve never had a weapon before?’ she asked with a tone so melancholic that it almost wrenched Adonis’s heart.

‘Bow and arrow,’ his reply came short.

‘They have a name?’

‘Apollo,’

‘Then, you should know how it is to be without your weapon,’ she turned his heel to wait for Erica to resurface from the water.

‘Does it have a name?’ a question from Adonis finally broke the silence between them. ‘Her Earthbreaker, does it have a name?’ the silence from Brianna told Adonis that she did not know that much about weaponry, much less Earthbreakers. ‘Bearers of Earthbreakers always name their sword. It’s in their nature and the sole of their code of conduct. You do know that, right?’ another silence dawned upon them and he made small steps towards her. ‘It’s quite okay to not knowing everything. It’s inevitable,’ he waved off the awkward silence. ‘What were you doing before?’ he asked.

‘Trying to get to the dragon’s village,’ Brianna replied casually.

‘It exists?’

‘Why wouldn’t it? You’ve seen the monsters, haven’t you?’ she incredulously looked at him like he had gone from the epic weaponry know-it-all to absolute geographical novice.

‘Yes, I do know dragons exist, thank you very much, but I didn’t know that such village exists,’ he retorted.

‘A village of dragons waiting for its riders? Of course they exist. Just because the Beast War happened, it doesn’t mean warriors worthy of riding a dragon stopped breeding,’ Erica rose from the water very much soaked and her Earthbreaker safely on its sheath. ‘I found another way to the village.’ her eyes gleamed when she told them, more to Brianna than Adonis. ‘Where are you heading?’ she addressed the question to Adonis.

‘What gave you the idea I’m going anywhere?’ he asked warily although he liked his chances from where the question was heading.

‘You’re from Eastern Mist,’ Erica rolled her eyes at him. ‘That’s a long way from here, either you’re going somewhere or you’ve gone raving mad,’ she stated matter-of-factly.

‘And how did you come up with the latter presumption?’ he could not help to admit to himself the bearer of Earthbreaker piqued his interest.

‘You’re from Eastern Mist,’ she drawled out boringly. ‘Nobody who’s on their right mind from Eastern Mist would leave the land and roam about aimlessly to the other side of the kingdom. The place’s basically heaven on Bourengard,’ she said as she plucked something that looked like a weed from the water. Her action gained her a questioning look from Adonis. ‘Don’t you know a Crustean weed when you see one?’

‘They’re not common in Eastern Mist,’ he defended.

‘Right. Now, answer my question. Where are you heading?’

‘Valmont,’ his answer made both Erica and Brianna looked at each other before both of them broke into their defensive modes. Brianna willed the tendrils of the trees to trap him in a tight grip while Erica threatened to thrust the pommel of her Earthbreaker into his face. In his defence for fearing for his life, the Earthbreaker’s pommel is exceptionally sharp looking.

‘What business do you have in Valmont?’ Erica hissed.

‘The elders in Eastern Mist said that everything dated before the downfall managed to be kept safe under the guard of the bard of Valmont and told me to go there if I was to seek any more information,’ he explained as calmly as possible.

‘What kind of information?’ Erica asked with a scrutinizing stare into Adonis’s brilliant green eyes to search for any tell-tale sign of dishonesty. She caught a glimpse of hesitation in his eyes and that was when she pressed the pommel closer to his face.

‘My bloodline!’ his answer came with so much exhaustion and frustration that Brianna mustered up all of the courage left in her to walk up to Erica and lowered the pommel from his face. ‘I don’t know who I am, all I know is that I tried everything and I still don’t belong. I look like them, talked and behaved like them, and they did me well and accepted me, but there’s always this unwritten and unspoken truth that needn’t be reminded throughout the Eastern Mist; I am not one of them,’ he bit down his disappointment from making him to look any weaker.

‘He’s telling the truth, Erica,’ Brianna said in a small voice, pointing at the loosening tendrils that started to bud. ‘I didn’t will that to happen,’ she said.

‘I know,’ Erica uttered and cut him loose from the tendrils and offered him her hand when he was finally free. ‘You’re coming with us,’ her voice was decisive. She threw them the Crustean weed she plucked earlier and looked at them expectantly.

‘I’m not putting that into my mouth,’ Adonis casted her a disgusted look.

‘Nor am I,’ Brianna wiped away the slime off of her fingers to no avail.

‘Did I give you any other options?’ she raised her eyebrow as she gulped down her portion of Crustean weed.

‘There are water nymphs, aren’t there?’ Adonis bargained. ‘We can have them put an underwater charm on us for us to breathe down there,’

‘If you plan to stay underwater forever, that’ll be considerable,’ she retorted. ‘Have you been living under a rock in Eastern Mist? Nymphs are not as trustworthy as they come across as, especially water nymphs. Wake up, dreamer boy,’

‘Have you ever been to Eastern Mist?’ It was Adonis’s turn raise his brow at Erica. ‘Our home are essentially carved from mountainous rocks. We either live inside it or underneath it,’ he scoffed as if it was basic geographical knowledge everyone would know.

‘Never needed a reason to,’ she shrugged and jumped into the water with Adonis and Brianna tailing her after a few moments passed. She led them into an underwater cavern gleamed by embedded crystals and obsidians along its walls which eventually ended into a dim lit cave. The atmosphere was rather hot and heavy that as soon as they got out of the water, their wet clothes were starting to dry up by the warmth. The cave eventually led them to a village full of dragons roaming around either lazily huffing fiery breaths or lulling on its stomach. Erica seemed to take interest in one particular dragon perched on the farthest yet grandest spot in the village. ‘That’s the one,’ it was all she said before making her way automatically towards the dragon.

Adonis spontaneously grabbed Erica by the arm, stopping her on her trail before she had the chance to make what it seemed to him as too fast of a decision to be well thought of. ‘You do know that dragons have enchantments, don’t you? How do you know this isn’t a trap?’ he asked her. It was Brianna’s hand that made him released his hold on Erica’s arm. He casted Brianna a disbelieving look before he watched from afar Erica continued walking towards the dragon. ‘If anything happens to her, it’ll be on you,’ he warned.

‘Nothing’s going to happen,’ she turned to watch Erica too. ‘You of all people must know how it feels to not belong and not making sense of the feeling, don’t you?’ she asked him a question that got his tongue tied. ‘I can see that she feels it, the dragon and her; they belong,’ she explained whilst pointedly gestured Adonis to look at Erica.

‘It bowed its head to her,’ Adonis’s voice croaked out his astonishment before he followed suit to Brianna’s running over to Erica and the dragon.

‘We’re taking this one?’ Brianna inquired cheerfully as she ran a careful stroke on its muzzle. ‘It’s beautiful and big enough to carry a whole hunting party. It’s got a name?’ she asked when she turned to Erica, bearing a look Brianna had yet seen mapped on her face; contentment.

‘Artemis,’ she breathed out and the dragon’s eyes gleamed. ‘Her name is Artemis,’ she nodded to the dragon before fastening the saddles and mounted her newfound dragon. ‘Come on, dreamer, let’s get out of here,’ she snapped Adonis out of his dumbfounded state.

***

'The apothecary said the bard lives not far from here, about two blocks,' Anthony began as he rubbed his cold hands together for some warmth. 'What do you say we go pay him a visit, Jack?' he asked, handing Jack the bag of herbs and potions he was carrying with him from the store.

Jack made no verbal response to the rhetorical question. He took the bag from the prince and tied it neatly by the saddle and mounted his horse, Berry, signalling to the prince that he was as ready as he would ever be. 'Lead the way, my Lord,' he said with a little bow of his head.

Seasons had passed since Anthony had left the castle ground to assemble his councilmen to be brought before the Court of Council, his search had yet made any progress from his last consult with Robinson. He discovered that Jack's position as his manservant had very much limited the man's fair chance at swordsmanship, not to mention it also barricaded his better education. Despite it all, Jack was doing extremely well on his own, proving that he had better wit than expected of him. 
‘The fair with utmost grace shall take upon the throne,
Lest a war break upon their bane and bone.
Lest the blade of anguish honed and kinship severed,
Be wary of the foretold duel between the banes of Guinevere.’
The words that came up on the leather covered book Anthony took from Lucinda’s place kept on coming into his head. ‘What war was the book referring to? Beast War? Or is it referring to a war that’s going to happen in the near future? Was that why Father decreed to have me set on a journey to find my own council? To keep me out of the warpath?’

‘Tony,’ Jack’s voice brought him back and he looked around for the bard’s place. ‘That’s the place,’ he pointed towards a bizarre looking house on the block and dismounted Brock before entering the ground of the bard’s home. Forget-me-nots adorned the lawn and the exteriors of the house were painted in strikingly different colours than the rest of the building in Valmont. He was about to swing the handle before him when a silver forget-me-not on the door burst into melodious tinkle, summoning the resident of the house, a very old man dressed in a scandalously glittering robe whom groggily came to the door and stared at both of them like he wanted no business with them both before uttering a grouchy ‘What d’you want?’ when he received no response.

‘Ignotus the bard?’ Anthony asked.

‘What’s it to you?’ he snorted.

‘Robinson sent me to seek for your help,’ he replied and as soon as he said so, the old man sprung alive and changed drastically in personality. ‘Bring in your horses,’ he had said an urgency that sent both Anthony and Jack fumbling their way to bring in both Brock and Berry through the door.

Anthony, who had grown inside a castle and by now had seen enough of charmed rooms was accustomed of seeing the cascading books arranged neatly on the shelves that stretched to the very top of the house. Anthony did not doubt the numerous amount of charms and spells that had to be put on onto the house to prevent it from sinking into the ground, given by the weights of the books and scrolls of parchments kept, naturally the house should not be able to withstand it through the time. Brock and Berry were left in a small stable in the east wing of the house and they were led into a room that had no books at all inside it. ‘You thought a house like this would have books in every room, why, there are even books in the kitchen!’ he exclaimed incredulously to the still petrified Jack.

‘Now, what do you snotty lads need me for?’ Ignotus sent the set of teacups clattering on the table as he threw himself onto a chair and took turn to look at Anthony and Jack.

‘I’m older than him,’ Jack countered.

‘That doesn’t change the fact you still look snotty to me, now, does it?’ he found the response bemusing. ‘I like this one,’ he gave Jack a pat on the back too hard that Jack sputtered out his tea. ‘Well, out with it, boy, I don’t have all day to babysit you.’ he pressed his face closely to Anthony now. ‘I’ve still got books to dust. I can hear the dusts crawling into the parchments, you know, waiting and waiting for the time I crawl into bed before they set their hungry teeth into the poor, poor forsaken histories,’ he whispered to Anthony’s face.

‘Well, that’s just it, sir. I was hoping you could tell me why Robinson sent me to you,’ he admitted politely.

‘Why wouldn’t she?’ he slammed his palms onto the table that sent the tea sets clattering once more. ‘This apparently going to take a while. I might as well get my comfy clothes on. Wait here.’ he said. He was about to get up from the chair when the familiar melodious tinkle was heard again.

‘Ignotus!’ a female voice was heard calling from outside the house. 

‘What does those girls want from me this time?’ Ignotus grunted as he rose from his seat.

‘Ignotus, I know you’re in there. Let me in, you old fart!’ the melodious tinkle was now singing a symphony of ‘Ignotus, you old fart’ repetitively by the time he finally got to the door.

‘YOU BROUGHT A DRAGON!’ Ignotus’s howl somehow managed to clatter the tea sets again. ‘DRAGON ON MY LAWN, ON MY GARDEN!’ a shriek was then heard from downstairs followed by immediate silence and rampaging steps approaching the room Anthony and Jack were in. ‘Wait in here while I go change and please try not killing anyone while I’m gone,’ they heard him saying before the door was swung open from outside.

Two of the three new arrivals immediately found themselves a seat and fitted right in. The other one however, scanned the room before setting his eyes onto them. His pair of green eyes and matched Anthony’s in their brilliancy it actually alarmed him when he saw the former’s golden hair shone brightly as he passed underneath the well-lit chandelier, not to mention the spook he had when he felt that he was supposed to know the man that looked a couple of years older than Jack. Anthony then found himself to lock his supervision to the man when he chose two chairs down from him to sit.

‘I know you, you’re the new prince of Bourengard, aren’t you?’ the silence of the room was broken by the chirpy voice of one of the girls not far away from Jack. ‘Prince Anthony, am I right?’ she asked and was met with a simultaneous nod from both Anthony and Jack. ‘I’m Brianna of Gobberville, you know, we have the best food in all of Bourengard, most of them even better than the castle’s kitchen, oh but you’d know that, wouldn’t you? You grow up in there!’ she willed a rose to creep from the cracks of the wooden floor before handing it to Jack. ‘You are?’ she asked sweetly to Jack.

‘Jacques Von der Mille. I’m from Rheandal,’ he started hesitantly. ‘I’m the prince’s first council,’ he said although he was not quite sure if it was in any way relevant. ‘What do you need Ignotus for?’ he asked.

‘What’s it to you?’ snapped the other girl from afar.

‘Don’t mind her, that’s Erica being… Erica, you know what they say about the people of Nottingtill. They’re as cold as where they came from,’ Brianna offered Jack an apologetic smile. ‘That’s Adonis, my Lord,’ she said when she noticed the stare down Anthony gave to her companion. ‘He’s come a long way from Eastern Mist,’

‘What are you doing so far away from home?’ Anthony finally spoke up.

‘What’s with the question?’ Adonis asked.

‘You’re from Eastern Mist. Folks from Eastern Mist don’t just get up and leave, the place’s basically heaven in Bourengard,’ Anthony rolled his eyes to Adonis. His answer caused a hysterical laughter to break between the two girls and Adonis’s face to redden.

‘I told you that’ll happen,’ Erica gave Adonis a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. When the tension dissipated, it was Erica’s turn to shoot the question, ‘How did you get here from Rheandal on those studs?’ she wondered, referring to Brock and Berry she saw when she perched Artemis along down there, a bemused look escaped her serious façade when she suddenly recalled the small yelp came out of Ignotus as Artemis accidentally rammed her tail into Ignotus’s shelf of Poetry among the Mists.

‘We actually went our way around it,’ Jack answered, gaining a feigned sympathetic look from the three newcomers.

‘We headed here from Morgendaire,’ Anthony said.

‘What were you doing there?’ Erica asked, her voice grew sombre and the tension returned to the room.

‘Robinson sent us,’ that answer sent both Erica and Brianna’s faces crestfallen. ‘What is it?’ Anthony asked with a feeling he was not going to like the answer.

‘Do you suppose we could get them all to the Ordeal just in time?’ Brianna asked Erica quietly a question that seemed only the two of them knew what it was about. ‘We could still catch up,’ she said to more to convince herself than Erica.

‘That’s not the problem here,’ Erica dismissed Brianna’s worry. ‘Were you confronted in Morgendaire?’ it was Anthony and Jack’s turn to be sombre. ‘Where’s the map?’ she asked urgently.

‘What map?’ Anthony asked. What was this map everybody kept talking about?

‘You’ve gone into Lucinda’s war chamber, haven’t you?’ she asked and when she was replied with a nod, she went on, ‘Underneath the table in the middle of the room, there’s a leather covered book, did you take it with you?’ she asked.

Anthony dug into his pocket and fished out the book and plaid it out on the table. He watched as Erica made her way towards him and picked up the book and blew a steady breath on it.

‘Open as ye may, for I am a scout for Lucinda,’ she whispered and the book opened itself on her hands. ‘Reveal the names of those who had set their eyes unto your secrets,’ she uttered to the book and scanned through the pages for a while before closing the book once more. ‘Are you planning to do anything with it?’ she asked Anthony while keeping the book in her hold.

‘I don’t even know what the book was supposed to do,’ he admitted in defeat, unbeknownst to him, his admittance caught Erica’s interest.

‘What did the book said to you?’ she asked with her eyes boring into his.

‘What?’ he stared at Erica with a non-mistaken confused look.

‘As you already figured, this book is enchanted.’ she said while handing the book to Jack and signaled for him to try and coax open the book. He tried copying Erica’s method to open the book, but it wouldn’t budge. ‘I told you the book is enchanted. Who do you think enchanted this book, a five years old aspiring magician?’ she scoffed. ‘What does it say to you?’

‘Ignotus, you old fart,’ he read the gleaming words aloud and Brianna let out a laughter that removed the tension from the room for a while.

‘I don’t suppose that’s what the book said to you, right?’ she asked.

‘It was something about Banes of Guinevere,’ he said but before he could say any more, Ignotus burst into the room wearing a more age-appropriate robe and sat down on a chair and instructed Erica to do the same.

‘I could’ve sworn with each time you come here, stranger things followed suit, Erica,’ he shook his head as he handed them scrolls to be passed down to each other. ‘What’s his deal? I can smell his stench of discontentment from the stable, and we’re on the third floor!’ he said, addressing to Adonis who had long since their arrival had been drowned in a taciturn.

‘Well, to put it crudely your way, he’s been living under a rock and he wants to know his bloodline,’ Erica told him. ‘You’ve got everything you need, Ignotus?’ she asked.

‘I’ve got you everything you need, now do me a favour and sit down, will you?’ he asked, for once on that day he sounded like a bard. ‘You do well to listen to me very carefully,’ he started. ‘I gave the Earthbreaker to you, Erica. That marked the end of my days as a swordsman and I had since lived my life as a bard. I’ve earned my living, surpassing my brothers and some of their children. It was in my stars that I am to continue living to tell the stories that’ll later become history, and maybe living even beyond that time to watch it become legends and myths,’ his eyes were soft on Erica’s hardening and disbelieving ones. ‘The rest of you, listen and do well to carve every word into your hearts, for this is the truth, the sage of the Kings of Bourengard,’ he started harmoniously with the rustling of the trees outside.

‘The time in Bourengard as we know started with King James the Just and his queen, Aurelia. The King was very handsome in his tall and dark appearance and his queen had been on par with him with her beauty that complemented the earth in Bourengard that she was known widely by the kingdom as Mother Nature. Being peaceful and loving by nature, their existence were welcomed by both of the land and the sea when they nurtured the soil that they had walked on into fertility. By time, the land grew prosperity and the sea bears riches that had sent the words throughout the land of a just king with his queen ready to run a kingdom and had welcomed refugees and treated them just as fairly as their subjects.

When the reign of James the Just ended, he was succeeded by his first prince, Frederick the Wise. He was the only king known to the history before the downfall to be the only king that had ruled the kingdom without a queen. Alas, his reign did not last as long as his father’s when he fell into an illness that yet have a cure that time. Of course, he was dubbed as the Wise for his exceptional performance in diplomacy, a hindrance from war against Primhearst and a trading ally in weaponry and armory with the mighty neighboring kingdom. He took in his father’s exquisite appearance so well that it took the healers long enough to detect the sickness, that’s how beautiful he had been and the spitting image of James the Just was lost to time with the departure of Frederick the Wise.

Then, comes the reign of Darius II the Benevolent with his queen, Lady Cornelia of Morgendaire. Darius the Benevolent was named after Bourengard's first martyr, Prince Darius I, although he did not necessarily take in the prince’s battle skills, he did well enough to ascend the throne as the next in line because Frederick the Wise left no heir to his throne. The reign of Darius the Benevolent marked the entry of all the magical creatures you have and have yet met into the kingdom. But just like Frederick the Wise, his reigned was short lived, and the new arrivals of the creatures chose to live discreetly to hinder from mistreat and social stigmas. Nevertheless, as short lived as it might be, his reign was a reign that this kingdom gained a life of undying loyalty and prosperity between man and beast. His benevolence did not just enchanted his subjects, but it also got him his queen who was the most sophisticated black beauty of their time and also a respected socialite of Bourengard.

Darius II was succeeded by King Arthur the Magnificent. He took after Darius on both the arts of war and courtship and was wed to the fair maiden of Northern Mist, Evangeline, who was known for her exquisite grace and diplomatic wisdom. They were known to their subjects as the vivacious duo of Bourengard, always hand in hand in ruling the kingdom, a magnificent king and his queen with the intelligence on par with his own. During their reign, the king always sent his queen instead of his ambassador to the other kingdom and was never afraid to declare war on any party that dared to threaten his land. Of course, with such vivacious manner of ruling, there had been wars that claimed the land of Morgendaire, Orion and Nottingtill as his own and a battlefield stance renowned throughout the land named after him; the Fist of Arthur, usually used as the final blow that claimed their ultimate victory in war. The magnificent king was blessed with two princes and three princesses; Charles, Blair who’s later married to the southwestern neighbouring kingdom, Alondale and became its queen, Hadley who’s wedded to the crown prince of Primhearst, Fransesca, and the youngest, Darius III.

Bourengard accomplished many things during the reign of Arthur the Magnificent and it continued to accomplish even greater deal when Charles the Forsaken ascended the throne. He was very handsome even as a child, blessed with his grandmother’s charm and the luck of his mother’s eyes that gleamed like pearls that were dipped in cerulean blue ocean and when he grew up, he grew into a man as handsome as any king would be, although he had the skin like the earth in Eastern Mist unlike his father’s. With a disarming eyes, there were scarcely any ladies that had not tried their luck with him. His only flaw was he loved concocting potions and making his own weaponry and armory than attending royal balls and social calls. Hence, when he was travelling to the Eastern Mist and met the assistance of Lady Guinevere who shared the exact same love as he did, he felt an ineffable connection to the lady and he rushed back to his father to have them both betrothed. He was so ready to ascend the throne with Lady Guinevere to be his queen when fate decided to turn against him, it claimed his lady before he could claim his throne.

The death of Lady Guinevere thrown Charles the Forsaken into a deep mournful ruin, albeit his ascending the throne after his passing father not long before the lady’s death. He willed himself away in desolate and despair to the neighbouring kingdom; Magnolium, where he met Princess Rosamund and learn to have faith in the beauty of living again and returned to his kingdom and ruled his subjects properly. They wed and ran for three glorious years of alchemic and weaponry outbreak, marking the birth of indestructible army of the kingdom and making Bourengard a force to be reckoned with. But as the day had to turn into night, fate once again claimed his lady before her time and he was thrown into heart wrenching wreck. 

Charles the Forsaken got unkempt and reckless after the death of his second queen, paying no regards to the sorcery misuse that was running rampant across the kingdom and threatening the lives of his subjects. Many opted out during that time, it was a very dark time for all of the kingdom, a few years living in such tragedy, a governess decided it was enough and somebody had to put a stop to all of the nonsense. Lady Catherine barged into his throne room and forced himself out of misery and nursed him back to health with much difficulty, some of the council started to question the function of a king when he was unable to control the women of the court. 

The king eventually regained his lost spirit to ward off the remaining evil in his land as he led the Beast War, a war waged between man and beasts. The army of men were assisted by their magic-bearer kin to fight against the creatures that they claimed to be cursed and will bring nothing but destruction to the kingdom. The beasts eventually retreated from the war when his final straw was hit, the assassination of Lady Catherine reached his ears, and in fear for his poor heart to take upon an ugly twist, he ran from the kingdom as far away as he possibly could and was never heard of again. Little did he know that he only left the country to twist even more souls in the kingdom when Wickenham, a wicked warlord with dark magic claimed the throne and poisoned the Court of Council with sordidness. The waging war against the beasts continued even though the last battle proved the beasts’ innocence.

It was during Queen Fransesca’s reign did the Beast War managed to be ended and Wickenham managed to be banished from the kingdom. Queen Francesca, the Proclaimer had proclaimed the victory over the kingdom when she managed to unite both man and beast to wage a war against the coup to the kingdom. Being the favourite sister of Charles the Forsaken had given her the privilege of knowing every turn and corner to her brother’s potion-brewing and armoury making. She conducted her own weaponry with all the blacksmiths she could gather from the kingdom and sought help from the neighbouring land, Cottondale. It so happened that the King of Cottondale, Julius III was looking for a queen and took an instant admiration to the natural born leader he saw in Francesca. With the help of King Julius III, she managed to recruit enough army to topple Wickenham’s from the throne and restored peace to the land once again. She sent her brother Darius III who was just coming of age to seek his for his own councils when she sensed the poison of Wickenham was creeping back into her Court of Council. True enough as she had foreseen, the throne was toppled once more and the kingdom went into deeper despair as the number of subjects began to decrease to the heavy losses during the wars.

Rheandal was scarcely populated when Darius III got back from assembling his own council, nobody ventured to the Mists anymore and the only things that survived the treachery were all hiding from the surface. It took all of his might to go about the kingdom and every other neighbouring kingdom that was willing to help to gather Intel and campaign to burn new faith for a better way of living. But you see, when you lived in fear long enough and had the beacon of hope taken away from you that many times, you can only imagine their despair was far beyond caring anymore. After all, their strengths were all drained by that time. Darius III, the Persevere, he did not give up. He challenged Wickenham for a duel, if he was to win, the latter should leave the kingdom and never return. He won easily against Wickenham, he was named after the great Darius, after all, and lived up to his name.

The rest of the poisoned Councils were fought by the new Councils of Darius the Persevere, led by the knight of Northern Mountain Pass of Northern Mist, Jacoba, who he later wedded and blessed with a child they named Anthony, after Jacoba’s brother in arms back in Northern Mountain Pass. You see, the people knew of the stories of what happened after the downfall of the kingdom but so few had been willing to listen to the old bard’s story of how such desolate tragedy befallen our kingdom, even few had enough care for the land to stand together with the King and Queen to secure the future and reclaim the glory.’ Ignotus finished his story as easily as if he had been practicing to tell the story his whole life. 

The bard turned to look to Anthony, ‘Have you ever seen a knight of Northern Mountain Pass before? They were beautiful and fair-skinned. Even in the battlefield, they had their grace intact at all time. Your mother abandoned her beauty to fight alongside your father for she saw the beauty of a kingdom with a well-ruled subjects surpasses the beauty her people blessed with,’ his eyes were beginning to revealed their exhaustion. ‘How far would you go to defend the kingdom?’ he asked. ‘Are you going to defend the kingdom because you thought it’s going to make you worthy as a king?’ the question brought a pang of guilt to Anthony. ‘Or are you defending the kingdom because you know it in your beating heart that’s what being the blood of James the Just means?’ his last question was met with pure silence.

Erica broke the silence when she rose from her seat. ‘The scrolls that Ignotus passed to each of you earlier are to be guarded with your lives, even beyond that.’ her instruction gained a flabbergasted look from Jack. ‘That being said, even if your lives are in danger, it is imperative that these scrolls are not lost to the hands of evil.’ she confirmed their fears with a resolute voice. ‘Guard these scrolls with your lives,’ she repeated the instruction. ‘We will be travelling by air from this place onwards,’ she announced. ‘Gentlemen, get only the essentials from your rides and nothing else.’ she turned to Anthony and Jack. With a final look to everyone in the room, she exhaled a satisfied breath and said, ‘Go on, now, we’ve got no time to lose,’

Ignotus went about the room and collected the teacups to be put on the trays when he sensed there was one resilient being had not budged even when everyone else had left the room. ‘I thought you said you’ve got no time to lose,’ he mused.

‘The Ordeal had sent me to fetch you, won’t you come with us?’ Erica tried her luck even when she knew she would fail to persuade the old bard.

‘You’ve grown so strong from the first I met you, Erica. Be strong now, you’ll need it now more than ever,’ he said.

‘You know he will eventually trace us here, don’t you?’ she asked solemnly to him.

‘I’m a bard, Erica. I’ll manage,’ he assured her. He continued picking up the cups and Erica turned her heels to leave when he spoke up again, ‘There’s nothing brings me joy than to see you become so accomplished that you earn yourself a dragon, Erica. Live through this time and return to tell me the stories, will you?’ he asked of her.

‘Until next time, Ignotus, you old fart,’ she bemused and left for the awaiting party who had managed to mount Artemis just fine without her.

‘How can we be sure of the things he told us?’ Jack wondered aloud.

‘Why can’t we? He’s Ignotus, Duke of Valmont, the sixth prince of James the Just and Aurelia, brother of Frederick the Wise; the bard of Bourengard.’ Brianna replied. ‘You know, there’s a song we used to sing when we’re children about the bard,’ she began and was joined by Adonis,
‘A bard is cursed to live,
A long life to tell the stories;
of the past so no one shall ever forget.
Alas, no one ever listen
to the bard anymore;
they’ve grown too weak and lazy,
to fend themselves like before.’

Wednesday, August 31, 2016

20. Bourengard: The Rogue of Cottondale

It was harvesting season soon and the people of Cottondale had been rather festive, fight clubs were packed with fighters and spectators, town square were filled with socialites and the streets were roamed by merchants from all over the kingdom, there were even some foreign merchants selling rare goods among the crowd. The nights at Cottondale were usually different from the nights in the gates of the castle. There were still music heard around and people still danced, sang and performed as they would before. Although life in Cottondale might seemed undistinguishable by untrained eyes, the ones who had lived long enough in the town could tell the difference in every livelihood they had put into scene.

The days in Cottondale were quite contrary from the nights, some days the streets would be scarce as the people would all be tending to their farms, mills and churn chills. The other days, the people would be flooding the market of Cottondale, a sight that would be a boast to a ball that could ever be thrown by the Kings and Queens since the downfall. One could say, whatever left of Bourengard's broken heart; its beating rhythm remained only because Cottondale had not lost its trades and prosperity, and that the people of Cottondale were fair enough to share their fare throughout the kingdom. They had not been able to offer much, only the basic grains and the best cottons and wools to keep the kingdom warm through long, cold and harsh winter.

Yet, as ordinary as it might be, Cottondale had its own lore to offer to any visiting merchants and hunting parties or even a simple peasant on an errand; the Rogue of Cottondale. The tradition of passing on the tales of the Rogue of Cottondale began less than two decades ago, when the fight club was joined by a hooded fighter and knocked down Gellert, the long standing fighter, the Bull of Cottondale. Gellert had never been beaten down in any fights before, he was among the forsaken warriors of Cottondale that sought refuge amidst the fight clubs, travelling from town to town to quench his thirst for fights and rushes of adrenalines, earning himself the title the Bull of Cottondale, with a fury of a bull rampaging through its way. Hence it was when he was defeated, the first uproar was heard after so many years and quickly made its way throughout Bourengard and royal guards were sent to make sure it was not a threat to the already militarily paralyzed kingdom. There was no one else able to topple Gellert like that, only the Rogue, who was named so because nobody knew of the true identity, not even the booker and the owner of the fight clubs when they paid the Rogue the prize. Perhaps, maybe Gellert knew but even if he did, he kept it to himself; a fighter’s honour, as he would have it.

That night, fight arena of Cottondale was especially loud and festive as almost everyone from the town came to witness Gellert sparring against the Rogue. Both of them gave the people another earth shattering fight, with blades sending sparks when they hit each other, nerve wrecking strikes when tips hit the skins and quick reflexes whenever a fighter was disarmed by another. By the end, the Rogue won again and collected the prize and when the arena was deserted, both of the Rogue and the Bull would indulge in a little ritual of theirs; a drink to the victor in utter silence, sometimes accompanied by small talk.

‘You’ve gotten better, little girl,’ Gellert said before he sipped his drink and continued his longing stare into the mid distance which was the fireplace that night. The warmth offered by the roaring fire tantalized with the coldness he felt against his skin, ‘The harvesting season is going to be short this time ‘round,’ he thought to himself. ‘Your strikes have gotten more precise and accurate, they were no longer aimless and pitiful,’

‘And you have gotten sloppy, old man,’ the Rogue retorted. ‘Aimless and pitiful as my strikes and swings were, I’ve beaten you down many times in a spar,’ she said crisply.

‘Aye, but don’t you be boasting your skills on me, now, little girl,’ he rumbled a low chuckle. ‘I see you got new token,’ he pointed his glass to the embroidered silk that adorned the brim of her hood. ‘You know, one of these days, the folks are going to tell that you’re a little girl, with that thing on your hood,’ he let a throaty laugh that time, winking at the butterfly shaped embroidery.

‘Then, let them be and see if I care,’ she slammed down her glass with just the right amount of harshness that it would not break.

‘Alice,’ Gellert said with such smooth voice that had sent chills to the Rogue’s entire being and even the roars of the fire were then turned to meek whisperings of burnt coals. ‘It won’t do to harbour such hatred and anger like so. Out of the terrible things I have committed, raw hatred and anger like that were the most terrifying motivation I’ve had, it simply won’t do,’ he uttered simply like reciting the Rights of Felons.

‘Says the Bull of Cottondale, a legit weapon of mass destruction of all Bourengard,’ another retort escaped her lips.

‘Yes, but I fight only for the thrill of it!’ he exclaimed in attempt to mock her retort. ‘I’ve fought many fights with you now to tell apart your drives and motivations, your passion and your anger, your distress and your consent.’ his voice turned somber and he took her hands into his, small and delicate despite of the years spent handling such sword in contrast against his massive and calloused hardened by the years of wielding his axes. ‘Alice,’ was all he needed to say before dry sobs were heard from underneath the hood.

‘I have been told about your death,’ she whispered. Her eyes shot angry looks when she heard laughter came out from the Bull of Cottondale. ‘I despise you for being so hearty about it. Don’t you ever take anything seriously?’ she spat as she snatched her hands away from his and started to throw him sloppy punches instead.

‘Oh, come on, now, little girl,’ Gellert regained his composure and searched for her eyes. He never had much luck in seeing the Rogue’s eyes, the girl hid herself pretty well, but he could tell by the gleam at the corner of her eyes that the Rogue had beautiful eyes and it was a loss to the world that she chose to hide them. ‘I take all of our sparring seriously,’ he said and he dug into his pocket to fish out a little carved sabre tooth he had kept with him for a while and thrusted it into her hands. ‘I take you seriously,’

‘Gellert, you old bull,’ she sent the stool he was sitting on a kick before turning her attention to the item she just got. ‘An amulet?’ she asked when she found that the tooth was hanging to a pendant.

‘Only if you wanted it to be,’ he said. ‘Now, enough of all these whimsical matters and whatnot. A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do,’ he got up and collected his belongings that had been scattered on the tables since the moment he got there and gave Alice his signature reassuring beam and making his already heavily scarred face seemed like he just grew some new scars.

‘You mean, eat?’ she mocked him half-heartedly.

‘Aye, you’ll never have a good fight if you don’t have a good meal before, little lady,’ he said with ever the same no-worries manner before making his way to the exit. He stopped after a few steps and glanced back to the Rogue, bearing a gleam in his eyes that had haunted her for many years after that and said to her, ‘Memento mori,’ before he walked out of the inn and apparently, from her life as well when she failed to fight for his life against a demon the next time their paths crossed.

***

That was not the only lore Cottondale had to offer to its willing listener about the Rogue of Cottondale. The tale of the undefeated Bull of Cottondale finally defeated was only the preface of the tales of the Rogue of Cottondale that the people of Cottondale grown to treasure. Alice of Cottondale had yet to claim the title the Rogue of Cottondale throughout her spar with Gellert although she had been given the mantle the first round she defeated him. The moment she truly became the Rogue of Cottondale was the moment she chose Broink over the people of Cottondale. People turned their ghastly eyes upon them whenever they saw Alice with what they call the crime against nature walked down the streets. Alice, however, being the Rogue, had never paid attention to them and had never bothered to explain her rational to lewd perceptions of the people.

‘Folks are naturally mean, Broink,’ she said as she passed him a bag full of grain for him to carry up the wren. Broink could only give her a rough grunt as a reply before he went down again. They were called the Rogue of Cottondale and the Demon that day when they were crossing a bridge to the outskirts of town, not even entering the marketplace yet. ‘They are a whole lot of insulting, impetuous beings and will think you as beneath them and grotesque if you aren’t in any way like them,’ she ranted on as she sharpened the edge of her Earthbreaker’s blade. Broink gave her a nasty huff at the comment ‘grotesque’ and noisily showed her his disapproval of using such temper.

‘You are very temperamental, little lady. It does not do for one to dwell on such temper, you know?’

‘Oh, come now, Broink. You’re a bull!’ she incredulously exclaimed at the cursed beast’s attempt at linguistic chivalry. ‘Well, granted that you are no ordinary bull, you’ve got intimidating height and built and you walk on two hooves like a Minotaur, but you’re a bull nonetheless. Supposedly you have a more questionable range of temper than I do,’ she said which in turn earned her another disapproving huff. ‘Oh, do stop that blubbering noise, you mangy beast. I get your point,’ she pushed away Broink by the head when he was leaning against her, almost crushing her with his weight. ‘And get off, you’re not a bag of sugar and salt being soaked in the pond,’ she complained and was replied by only snorty laughter from the hairy beast as he made his way and settled in his room in the big hole in the tree trunk.

‘Good night, Broink,’ Alice called from her room in the wren. ‘Sleep tight, we’ve got a long way ahead of us tomorrow,’

‘Sleep well and dream brightly, little lady,’


***

Albeit the night was peaceful and the breeze was comfortably cool, both Alice and Broink were woken up from their slumber by the shrill howls of the wolves and distance neighs of horses. ‘There’s someone out there about to be eaten by the wolves,’ she whispered to herself. Alice was quick to reach for her Earthbreaker and scouted the nearby trees and grounds for any signs of danger that might be approaching their way. The rustlings of the bushes in the direction of the wolves’ howling made her lowered the Earthbreaker, but as quickly as another howl came, she made her way as stealthily as possible when she recognized the distant mischievous cackling accompanying the rustlings.

‘Alice,’

‘Stay, Broink,’ she hissed.

‘Those are bandits, Alice,’
‘I’m not stupid, I won’t be fighting them off,’ she said and went on ahead and witnessed a battlefield between the bandits and the wolves. Thick and rich coats shone through the moonlight and ivory teeth gleamed against daggers were everywhere as if they were adorning the rather dull night. ‘Ethereal wolves, no wonder the bandits rushed over,’ she thought to herself. Ethereal wolves could make good for nothing bandits like them very rich by miles. But something else caught her attention as she scanned the ground for any horses and that was when the golden locks was spotted. She got in the way just in time as the rider with golden hair launched himself into his death to stop it. ‘What was he thinking? Does he not know these are crude and heartless bandits? Does he not know these barbaric crime against nature would most probably treat them much like the wolves when they were done with the beasts?’

Alice managed to tell the rider as his company off as quietly as possible and she returned to her tree before any bandits could notice her involvement. She spent her time thinking how peculiar that such person existed, whoever travelled into woods with so much rob-worthy belongings and strolled about on a stallion worth hundreds of gold coins if stolen and sold to the black market? It was as if they had some sort of peculiar death wishes they wish to cash out. ‘Fools,’ she scoffed and before she could finish her thought, she felt her arms being roughly pulled into a tree. She was about to ply her pocketknife backwards into the flesh of her assailant when she noticed the hairy arms that were confining her. ‘Broink?’ and was received by an all familiar low grunt that she learned to mean, ‘Trouble at home,’

‘They were looking for the tooth, you still have it with you, don’t you, little lady?’


Alice traced her fingers around her neck to make sure that the pendant was indeed still hang around her neck and let out a sigh of relief. She searched her mind for anybody that she could trust enough to confide into in the middle of the night. ‘It won’t do if I barge into Robinson’s Hut with her having company over and all, would it?’ she asked Broink and pushed the thought to the back of her mind when he gave her a disapproving snort. ‘What do you suppose I do now, Broink? Do you suppose we could start moving right this moment and ask for Lucinda’s help?’ she asked and another snort was all that she received.

‘But I think Lucinda will be a decent help, Broink. She used to hang out with Gellert,’ another snort.

‘Well, you’re not helping so much, you beast,’ she snapped and earning her a glare for such language and tone. ‘And I think your disliking Lucinda is just immature and bias,’ she hissed as she got up turned to Broink, gesturing him to do the same. Broink puffed at her. ‘Come now, I’m sorry, Broink. But she’s all I’ve got at the moment,’ she asked as politely as possible.

***

It took Alice and Broink five days to reach Lucinda and it had not been the easiest journey either. It boggled Alice how Lucinda managed to live among the sorry-looking slums of Morgendaire, the most affected part of Bourengard since the kingdom’s downfall. Most part of the town had been reduced to slums and hideouts for felons, there were still some decent parts of the town, but those had been recently left to be small places for people to sell whatever they could gather from the slums and merchants to sell their goods and cottages the people run as inns to fend for themselves and keep the town running and stopping from falling into deeper depth of despair. ‘Old soul Lucinda, still hopelessly waiting for the day Morgendaire will return to its triumphant splendor and trees and flowers and birds adorning the air,’ she thought to herself as she rang the bell hung by the door.

‘Alice of Cottondale, the Rogue and her Bull!’ Lucinda greeted them with a shrill enthusiasm that was followed by Broink’s temperamental huff. ‘Oh, you silly old bull! To what do I owe this pleasure?’ she asked as she pushed both of them in her cottage. ‘I must say you caught me by surprise, I haven’t even got the time to brew any tea,’ she added.

‘Oh, don’t bother yet, Lucinda,’ Alice said. ‘Fixing us some mean meals would do,’ she added casually which caught Lucinda’s attention.

‘Your treehouse is ambushed again?’ she stopped in her track and pulled a seat across Alice, signaling her full engagement to the soon to be serious conversation, ignoring all at once the ever so obvious dislike of Broink towards her. ‘Have you seen who they were?’ she asked Broink as soon as Alice finished filling her in.

‘I am certain they were the Looters. Those despicable vermin—‘


‘Come now, there’s simply no reason to be all crude and temperamental.’ she cut off and Broink gave her a noise that annoyed Alice but seemingly did not affect Lucinda. ‘You do know that I live in slums, don’t you, Broink? Your disgusting noises do not appall me,’ she primly stated. ‘Well, if you’ve been ambushed again, it seems that it no longer made sense for me to stay here,’ she said. ‘It’ll be any day from now before they come bursting from that sickly door of mine,’ she got up and went to rummage through her chest underneath her bed.

‘How can you tell?’ Alice asked, trying to put the pieces together to no avail.

‘Because that pendant you wear around your neck…’ she paused as she finally found what she was looking for. ‘I have it too,’ she showed them her long hidden sword, with the chain draped over the grip and the tooth was encased in the pommel neatly designed as to purposely flash the presence of the tooth and the pendant as in to mock whomever tried to sneak their way to the pendant.

‘You kept it in Phoenix? Doesn’t that scream stealing hazard to you?’ Alice could not fight off a hearty laughter at Lucinda’s way of doing things.

‘Only if they know I have a Phoenix to begin with,’ Lucinda winked as she unsheathed Phoenix to give it a quick polish. ‘We’ll set out after dinner, it’ll be less conspicuous that way,’ she as she made her way to her kitchen before stopping in her tracks. ‘Or, perhaps it was better for us to just set out now and have our dinner outside,’ she turned her heels and ushered Alice and Broink out of the cottage after she put on her travelling cloak. She locked her gate and gave her cottage one last look before turning to them with a smile too bright.

‘Why are you so gleeful to be leaving your beloved town?’ Alice asked.

‘Oh, we’re not leaving, we’re going on our way and saving it,’ she replied simply.

Monday, August 29, 2016

19. Bourengard; the Prince and the Divination


There was once a kingdom in a land far away, ruled by generations of the mightiest rulers there were at that time with unspeakable wealth bestowed to the kingdom. But as it was destined for any day to be followed by night time, the wealthy kingdom along with the mighty rulers had fallen into the depth of despair, putting the blame on their sordidness. Their greed had sparked such terrifying flame of terror throughout the land, so terrifying that the tale had lived through the test of time and had been passed from generations to generations. Even so, on the outskirts of the castle wall, there were still folks who still believed that the kingdom would one day be ruled by a ruler even more magnificent than the kingdom ever had. Those were the People of Divination, they were said to supposedly have the gift of foretelling the future and were the ones responsible to foresee the downfall of the kingdom.

It had been foretold by the People of Divination that Bourengard would claim its glory once again when the heir to the throne; fair to the nature, endowed by all the grace there were in the land and adorned with golden hair was born. Naturally, the rest of the Bourengard paid no regard to the seeings of the People of Divination, for one matter, the people of Bourengard had long ago disregard any divination offered to them. Another matter, they simply have grown too weak to hope for such heir to be born and restore the kingdom's glory simply because for centuries, the kings who sat on the throne of Bourengard were all tall, dark and handsome with locks as dark as the night. Hence, when a prince of fair skin and golden locks was born, the only logical reaction to be expected was an uproar from all over the land.

The prince was celebrated like never before in decades of the forlorn kingdom. All of the streets were lit up and the gate to the castle was opened for the public and just like that, once again joy and music filled the air of Bourengard and the joy continued for several more years. The prince of Bourengard grew beautifully into a man befitting of the foretold seeing and the crowds were finally at ease. However, deep in the castle's Court of Council, there was a rather discomforting silence uttering a concern in unison. Nothing had given the Court of Council relief more than the glimpse of hope the birth of the prince had given them, but nothing had taken off their concern of the divination was all but a farce until the fair prince had proven himself worthy of the throne. Thus, on that fateful night, exactly fifteen years after the prince was born and extensively celebrated, the council met and arrived upon a unanimous decision; the prince was to be set out to prove his worthiness by bringing his own set of Court of Council, and upon his return with the new ensemble, the current Council would assume resignation, marking the beginning of the prince's reign as King of Bourengard.

If Bourengard was slightly like any typical kingdom at that time, assembling one's own Council would not be at all a challenging task to be done, and it would not be effective to test one's worthiness to assume the role of a king, much less a king who was destined to restore the glory of his forlorn kingdom. But Bourengard was different, its downfall had not just marked the failure of the kings to maintain their mighty reigns but also torn the people apart. Although the birth of the prince brought joy among the people, the presence of the bitterness and shallowly buried anger had been undeniable. People of Bourengard, with the exception of the people of Divination were still living with a begrudging crestfallen despair, even more towards the people of different cities and villages than the nobilities, and the prince knew that perfectly well, which was why it made perfect sense to him to approach the people of Divination first to look for his first eligible Council member.

‘You would do well to listen to the words your mother will have to say to you, son,’ the King said solemnly to his youngest son. His dark skin was so in contrast against the prince’s fair one as he graced the prince with one last hug before the prince’s departure.

The prince bowed before the King and made his way to the Queen, staring longingly into her brilliant green eyes and mustered every fiber in his being to fight off any tears that threatened to fall. He then took his time to reach for her outstretched arms and faltered for a moment when he felt her fingers ran through his hair.

‘Be brave, my dear boy,’ the Queen whispered to the prince. ‘Be brave, as brave as the Kings of Bourengard should. Be chivalrous as a gentleman should and be gracious to the nature as you should,’ she looked into his eyes with such intensity he could not dare to defy her. ‘But more importantly, be true to yourself as any man should.’

Thus onwards marked the beginning of the prince’s journey to prove his worthiness, crossing the field of Bourengard towards the small town of Orion, where the people of Divination lived with no one but his manservant to keep him company. They were both received fairly by the townspeople and even the manservant was regarded as a nobility. ‘I wish to seek the consult of your leader, if you please,’ he had said over dinner to the attending maid that night. He was later met with the host of his stay and was told go Robinson’s Hut as only few people in the town dared to go there.

‘Should we wait for the dawn to break before we head out, my Lord?’ the manservant asked when he saw the young prince was hasty in collecting his belongings and headed for his stallion.

‘No, Jack. The sooner we are to arrive at Robinson’s Hut, the better,’ he said as he mounted his stallion. ‘What could possibly go wrong? It’s just a hut at the outskirts of town, and it’s just dark outside. Brock here won’t fail us, would you, Brock?’ he added as he brushed the mane of his stallion before galloping away out of the town.

Jack followed closely behind dutifully while looking around frequently for any signs of danger. It was not much of use, for the path to the Robinson’s Hut was a lined by thick, tall trees which leaves hid away the moonlight, making the already dark night even darker and impossible for any of them to see through their way. Even Brock was stepping more slowly the deeper the got into the woods. Jack was about to comment on how lost they had been when suddenly a howl broke the silence of the forest. He ushered his horse closer to the prince and once again stopped from saying anything when a second howl was heard through the already dead silence. ‘My Lord,’ he whispered, only to be replied by a brisk hush from the prince, who then signaled him to draw out his sword and raise his guard up.

The horse and the stallion circled each other back to back in look out for the possible approaching danger. But as fate would have it, a pack of wolves pounced through the bushes and surrounded them. The wolves were not terrifyingly big nor were they in large number, but they were enough to outnumber the prince and his manservant and left them paralyzed in fear that the only luck they had was wounding the wolves by aimlessly swinging their swords respectively. The panic-stricken prince considered his survival rate before the enraged wolves became more dangerous and stroke them both and he sorely lamented his boast when all of the sudden arrows came flying from out of nowhere, given that it was too dark to see who were shooting the arrows.

Just like that, the prince and his manservant were no longer the target of assault of the wolves. The prince saw silhouettes of men came barging from everywhere around the woods attacking the wolves. ‘They were fighting off the wolves,’ he thought to himself and some part deep inside of him mocked him for his incompetency as a royalty to sever even a single wolf despite of his bloodline’s legacy. He simply was not going to have any of this nonsense casted down upon him, so he tightened his grip on his sword and launched Brock towards the group of fighting people when just as sudden he felt a tip of something sharp pressed against his cheek.

‘Don’t.’ said the voice, ever so commanding that it froze the prince for a moment. ‘You have been stupid enough to wander aimlessly here, nobleman. Don’t be any stupider than to help the bandits to rob you.’

‘I’m heading to Robinson’s Hut,’ he did not know what made him told the unknown person such a thing, perhaps it was the chaotic atmosphere clouded his better judgement. ‘I reckon I got lost,’

‘That’s another stupid thing to do, telling off where you’re going and whatnot.’ the voice mocked the prince. ‘The Hut’s not far north from here, go now before they pay any attention to you.’ with that said, the sharpness on his cheek was gone and he was left dumbfounded until Jack nudged Brock by the midsection, causing both the stallion and the prince to startle before continuing to ride into the dark night.

When they finally arrived at Robinson’s Hut, Jack and the prince finally understood why few people from Orion dared to come. The Hut was a ghastly sight to behold and the surrounding was grotesque in every way possible. There could not been anyone in their right mind who wishes to casually take a walk or even do anything for that matter there. The Hut was surrounded by forsaken swamp and covered by stench air and there was mist to blind anyone’s sight, a place enough to keep anything alive out of the way. Yet, the prince could see the lit window from across the swamp which had encouraged him to approach the miserable looking hut however dreadful the thought was.

‘Prince Anthony of Bourengard, I thought I see you making your way here among the stars,’ a woman with skin as fair as his and hair as golden as his greeted him at the door before he even raised his hand to knock. ‘Come in, with those beads of sweats on your forehead, I suppose you had a rather eventful trip here?’ she inquired as she ushered them into the hut, which was tremendously misleading given by the miserable exterior. The interior of the hut was nothing at all befitting to the size and condition of what anyone would see from the outside, it was extensively spacious and decorated glamorously to be a hut, to be correct, it was a home in disguise. The woman led them to what it seemed like a dining room with a table and chairs enough to serve a hunting party. ‘You know, the trees had told me that you, sire, is out looking for your own Council,’ she said as she poured them some tea. ‘I must say, I was wondering what was the deal with a prince such as your age going out alone finding a council of his own and when I learned that you are on your way here, oh well, can you imagine how intrigued am I?’ she exclaimed.

‘Yes, on that matter, I wish to speak to the leader of the people of Divination, and they sent me here to consult with Robinson,’ Anthony said, wondering how could anyone would be capable of such magic or trickery as to steer any unwanted visitor by such ways.

‘Yes, yes, of course. Always Robinson for consultation,’ she waved the thought as if it was the least important thing to talk about at the moment and turned her attention to Jack. ‘You are the manservant, I suppose?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Jack nodded and continued to sip his tea.

‘That’s a lovely locket you’ve got there,’ she said pointedly to Jack. ‘Almost too lovely for a manservant,’ she added.

‘My family used to be noblemen, before…’ Jack’s voice trailed as he clutched on his locket and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

‘So the downfall costed your family’s wealth and freedom, too?’ Anthony’s voice grew somber.

‘Oh, pish-posh, your Majesty, the only ones who had not been affected by the downfall were the royalties,’ she said casually like she was telling it was the most natural thing to happen every day. ‘You have a long journey waiting ahead of your, sire, you best make sure you are fully well for all that’s coming your way.’ she rose from her seat and went up the stairs, making no regards for them to follow her, so they stayed there, sipping more of the tea and before long, she came down from the stairs with a locket similar to Jack’s in her hand.

‘The locket, it looks awful lot like mine!’ Jack exclaimed.

‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ she gestured for the locket hung around Jack’s neck to be handed to her. Jack handed her the locket and she closely compared it to hers. A look of relief and satisfaction was shown on her face when she handed back Jack his locket. ‘These are not mere lockets, boy,’ she said with such bitterness in her voice that it made both Anthony and Jack trembled with guilt they did not know existed in them. ‘These are the crests of Councils. Your family and mine had once been in a service of the Court of Council, and it was long before the downfall, too,’ she explained.

‘You’re meaning to say that you are the Robinson, the host of Robinson’s Hut that few people dared to venture to?’

‘How is that surprising to you?’ she asked the prince as if he was out of his mind. ‘I cannot say if this crest will symbolize anything regarding your quest to assemble your Council, young prince,’ she said as she settled on a seat. ‘But, I can say that you have found your first Council,’ she stated.

‘Thank you, Bourengard would be lucky to have you in its Court of Council,’ Anthony said.

‘I cannot believe how many times you could be so wrong, your Majesty, and I don’t dare to wonder how many more times you will be wrong before you get to finally be right,’ she casted him a hopeless look. ‘He is your first Council,’ she pointed at Jack. ‘Oh, come now, don’t look so shocked. Surely, one of you have figured it out all along, now, don’t you?’ she snapped her finger and pounded her fists against the table, rattling the teacups and knocking both of the prince and the manservant off their shock. ‘Now, something tells me that you two owed me the telling of your adventure here,’ she got up and fixed them more tea and biscuits that it was impossible for them not to think that she was indeed another version of Bourengard’s tea party enthusiast.

‘Come to think of it, why would anyone roam the woods, anyway?’ Jack said when Anthony finished telling Robinson the story their trip.

‘Easier to prey on unsuspecting young princes and their manservants who know no better than to avoid woods in the dark night,’ she replied. ‘So, you’ve met Alice,’ she said with her eyes gleamed brightly than it should.

‘Curious and curiouser,’ Jack muttered.

‘Alice?’

‘Alice of Cottondale, now, she will do you a great deal to be in your Council, sire,’ she said. ‘Will you do yourselves a favour and spend the night here?’ she asked. ‘You’re both very, very young and it would be very, very pitiful if anything more happens, you were both very lucky that Alice was happened to be there, but she wasn’t going to be around anytime soon, now, was she?’ she said.

‘Very well, then. We’ll set out in the morning,’ Anthony decided.

Hence, that night was spent to recover from their adventure and Anthony wondered to himself if it was wise to recruit a stranger who tried to cut open his face earlier into his council. Then again, without said stranger’s brusque help, he would not arrived and found his first Council. Jack. Never had it occurred to him before that his manservant could be his Council, perhaps Jack had to prove himself worthy as well before he was to be officially entitled as a Council. Then again, was it not Jack who advised him against travelling in the middle of the night in haste before? If only he had listened to Jack, they would not been attacked, and possibly they would have a much more secured travel in daylight. Indeed, he had too much to learn before he could prove himself worthy of a throne, or even a council. It was decided then, Prince Anthony of Bourengard would prove himself worthy of Alice of Cottondale to be in his Court of Council. Little did he know, in the other room, Robinson smiled upon the resolve that she could not help overheard through the stars.

‘You do well to be brave and courageous, your Majesty,’ she whispered to the stars as she clutched her locket tightly.

Saturday, August 6, 2016

18. Hiatus

'I can never quite understand,' he began slowly enough at first as if the reason he was talking at first was to test if he had any voice left. 'I don't think I would ever understand what's inside of your head,' he said as she turned to look at him.

'Oh, but you wouldn't want that,' she smiled upon his confusion and his breath hitched at the ethereal beauty piercing his sheer eyes. Have beauty been more tragic than this, he thought to himself. Of course it had, don't be daft, came the uninvited voice inside him.

'Why is that?' he asked as he struggled to clear his rusty voice. How long had the box been abandoned, he implored every inch of his being to not fail him now and with every silent words uttered came a reply he did not like very much, Long enough, sir, and he knew it was his fault after all.

'Oh, simply because I am mad,' she declared as if it was not at all peculiar thing on earth. She got up from her seat and dusted her gown so and with a hum she made her way towards him, one of her hand was not visible to the view, hidden by lofty of her gown ruffle. 'But you know,' she tiptoed closer to him as if she was letting on a secret she had sold her soul to not to tell another soul, 'You are supposedly mad, too,' she came down on her heels and handed him a stalk of rose. She skidded away past him without a care if he should follow her or not.

'Supposed so,' he said as he trailed behind her. 'How did you know?'

'There's a hint of golden cloud I can always see around you,' she told him like it was the most natural thing in the world and gave him a look that questioned his knowledge of the life.

'Really, now?' he asked dubiously. Curioser and curiouser, he thought. Had he finally fallen into a rabbit hole and was trapped in a wonderland much like Alice?

'Why, there it is again!' she said pointedly at him, as she saw the torn indifference and mustered up curiosity in him, she paused and told him, 'Or mayhaps, it wasn't madness that I saw,' a small smile of sadness began to pierce from her orbs. 'Maybe it was hiatus,' she suggested before adding, 'But you have to be mad to be on hiatus, anyway. That makes you mad either way, don't you think?'

Just like that, everything made sense.