The Lost Crown Chronicles
Episode I: The Wrath of Victory
Rowan woke up to the sound of flapping wings. Birds, no doubt. They sounded nearby, but the rush in the noises proved that a group had just flown off.
That didn't matter much to Rowan. What was more important to him was his current state. He found himself sitting back against the trunk of a forest tree with rope tied around him and the tree. His arms were trapped under the rope, so there was barely any movement he could make besides with his legs and feet which were free.
He couldn't remember much at all about how he got himself into such a predicament. The back of his head throbbed, so that explained how he was knocked out in the first place.
As if that wasn't the strangest part. Standing back against a tree a few meters away from Rowan was a man he did not recognize. He couldn't recognize him. The man was taller and with a thicker build than Rowan, and he was dressed in all black. He donned a mask under his black hood. The mask did not have any detail on it. It was just a oval-shaped face mask, showing no signs of special significance.
"Who are you?" Rowan asked. He was originally going to ask Where am I but he reckoned that sounded stupid. "Where's Kristoff?"
"Pay no mind to him," the masked man started. His voice was unfamiliar with Rowan, but definitely did not sound natural. It was deep, but had a sort of flanging effect on it, so another voice spoke the same words at the same time. "You are dealing with me now / My patience grows thin."
"What do you want from me?" Rowan inquired. "It's obvious that I won't get anything from you unless you want me to." He was not ignorant enough to keep on prying the masked man.
"I want the truth, please / You know of the Observer / I know I'm correct."
"What about the Observer?" Rowan asked.
"Tell me your story / Why did you look for it / How did this happen?"
"I don't know how this happened." Said Rowan. "You tell me."
The masked man took out a dagger from his belt. "You don't make demands / Tell me what I want to know / From the beginning."
"You think of me as a fool?" Rowan scoffed. "I'm no scholar, but the fact that you went through all of that trouble to tie me up and ask me questions means that you need me alive. Do you think that knife intimidates me?"
"You are a smart man / I do not want to kill you / And I don't plan to." The masked man replied. "Do you not realize / The knife is not for killing / It's an incentive."
"What are you proposing?" Rowan asked.
"Tell me what I want / When you do, I will free you / I suggest you talk." The masked man offered.
"How can I trust you?"
"You cannot trust me / But I'm your only way free / You have no options."
Rowan took a deep breath and breathed out. There was no way he could trust the masked man, nor was there any guarantee he'd be free. But, he wanted to be freed more than anything. His friends were counting on him. The masked man was right when he said Rowan had no options.
"If I talk, will you tell me where Kristoff is and let me go?" Rowan negotiated.
"I do not know where / I can't tell what I don't know / But, I will free you."
"And what then?"
"That really depends."
"On whether or not you trust my story." Rowan assumed. He saw that the masked man slightly nodded.
"Just tell me your full story."
Rowan took a deep breath.
"Fine. It all started not too long ago . . . When Dorian lost the war."
I:1. Rowan - A Devil's Dinner
"I don't like this."
"When was the last time you liked anything, Garret?" Rowan asked, knowing full well that Garret was always so pessimistic when it came to everything from cards to war.
Rowan practically knew Garret all of his life. Although they were not related by blood, Rowan liked to think that they were brothers. They practically were, in fact. Despite Garret being older than Rowan by three years, as Garret was twenty-three and Rowan was twenty, the two were best friends. They've always been best friends.
The circumstance in which Rowan was able to have a relationship with Garret was lucky. Garret was the eldest son of Lord Cecil Dorian, making him heir to his father's throne of the kingdom of Dorian. That was a lot of pressure for a child, but Rowan Randyll, son of Lord Dorian's personal advisor Sir Roche Randyll, was always there with Garret. For fifteen years, the two have played together, bled together, laughed together, ate together, and were practically inseparable.
Of course, Garret didn't only have Rowan. Rowan knew all of Garret's younger siblings almost as well as he knew Garret himself. The second eldest child in the Dorian family line was Garret's younger brother, Talion. He was always one year older than Rowan but two years younger than Garret, so Rowan estimated Talion to be around twenty-one.
Following Talion was the third eldest, and the eldest daughter, Ari. Rowan couldn't recall the last time he had seen her, but he was sure it was about a year ago. The name of the princess she was to be a personal handmaiden of slipped out of Rowan's mind.
After Ari would be the twins, Calum and Lyra. Just as how Garret and Rowan were the best of friends, Calum and Lyra had a similar relationship, albeit related by blood. The two proved to be the most talented of the children, according to Lord Cecil himself, and that thesis was proven by Rowan's personal interactions with them. He placed them at around fourteen.
The final child of Lord Cecil and Lady Eva Dorian was Eddric. He was not born too long ago, and Rowan knew for a fact that he was seven years old. His interactions with the child were rare as Garret and Rowan were usually always spending time elsewhere in their leisure. It was Calum and Lyra who played and entertained Eddric the most.
All of Garret's siblings treated Rowan as family, and he obliged to the treatment by interacting with them with the same kindness. However, Garret was always his closest friend. There was no denying that. Of course, it was always hard for people to not like the charismatic individual. They all had British accents, but Garret emphasized the most charm in his. No one knew how he did it so well.
Not only was he charming, but he had the qualities of a leader. Rowan knew it all too well. Lord Cecil had raised Garret to become a leader, and not just a leader, but a king. In order for that to happen, he would've needed all of the qualities good kings have and exercise. He was a born leader with stoic and a courageous demeanor. Of course, that meant he was always a tad too serious.
Those qualities were essential to the major plight in the land of Jana. Jana, which Rowan knew to be pronounced as "Yahna," was a large mass of land located in Europe. To its south was the United Kingdoms which was roughly smaller than it, and to its east are other kingdoms connected to the mainland such as Arendelle and the Southern Isles.
Jana was never a unified country. In fact, it was hardly a country at all. There were always four kingdoms occupying it, with each kingdom having its capital on the coast of the landmass. However, the Dorians were not of equal power compared to its counterpart kingdoms. The two kingdoms which were always the power players kingdoms of Tyro and Ryke.
As far back as history could tell, Jana was always divided into four sections, each section ruled by a kingdom, each kingdom ruled by a king. Each kingdom would've been considered "Wardens" of their particular geographical location. The Dorians were the Wardens of the North of Jana, with Tyro to the west, Ryke to the south, and the east belonging to the kingdom of Saren. For generations, Tyro and Ryke have never been allies. The same relationship applies to that of Dorian and Saren. Neither Dorian nor Saren were as powerful as Tyro or Ryke when it came to military strength, and the two made their livings through trade. The north-east of Jana was rich with resources such as minerals and rare tree bark. Both kingdoms made their livings through trade while Saren and Tyro were really good at "persuading" others.
Full fledged war between the four kingdoms of Jana occurred not too long ago if Rowan could remember correctly. It seemed as if he had been serving in the war his entire life.
The king of Syke, Wicken Ryke, decided that the land he owned was not good enough. At least, that's what Lord Cecil told Rowan. So, one by one, Ryke forces attacked and claimed villages belonging to Tyro, working their way closer to the heart of Tyro, Tyro Peak. It didn't take much longer for Tyro to fight back. The war between the south and west Wardens broke out. Tyro enlisted the aid of their closest ally early on, Dorian. Ryke did the same with Saren. However, in doing so, King Cecil Dorian had to give up his name as king and become "Lord" as a sign of allegiance.
It was the Dorian's and Saren's job to supply recourses to their patron kingdoms. However, the two were still obliged to offer military help to which both patron kingdoms used to their advantage. Lord Cecil served as the right hand man of the leader of Tyro, King Michael of Tyro. While serving, Cecil brought Garret to war, believing his son needed military experience. Garret brought Rowan along as it was a no brainer for the two.
As the war went on, King Michael was not oblivious to the fact that he was losing. Too many deaths were taking a toll on his side of the war. Ryke and Saren were too powerful of a pair to defeat. The war in Jana was practically a civil war, so that was what disinterested other countries to interfere. All in all, the policies of the kingdoms were almost the same. It was just the leaders who were different.
It was not at all a popular decision, but it happened regardless of what anyone thought. Two years after the war started, Tyro conceded, and that meant Dorian would also surrender. There was a protest, but there was nothing which could prevent the inevitable.
It was not long after the official declaration of surrender did Garret and Rowan find themselves walking through the guarded hallways of the castle in the capital of the Ryke Kingdom which would soon be the capital of all of Jana.
Garret and Rowan were dressed in elegant tailcoats as they followed their escort who was no doubt a butler of the castle.
"I don't like this." Garret whispered to Rowan.
"When was the last time you liked anything, Garret?" Rowan whispered back. However, Rowan knew exactly where Garret was coming from. It all felt so incredibly odd and definitely not ordinary.
"I'm not sure whether or not you're blind or ignorant." Garret quietly said. "When you win a war, you don't invite your sworn enemies to a dinner party. They say it's a formality, but I say it's just a way to have a knife in our backs more quickly."
Rowan entered the castle cautiously, believing that it was a death trap as well. However, he reckoned if Ryke and Saren wanted them dead, they would've already done so. Unfortunately, that logic did not apply too many times in his life.
Rowan looked forward at the escort who had his back to them. He wasn't sure whether the escort could hear them or not, but he couldn't risk speaking in his normal voice. Luckily, there was enough chatter coming from the room ahead to drown out the sound of Rowan's voice as they walked through the hall with the only door being at the ends.
"I don't like this any more than you do." Rowan agreed. "But we have half an army loitering outside the castle walls. If anything goes sour, it'll be warfare in the streets."
"Not if they're expecting it." Garret pointed out.
"Who is they?"
"Whoever is smart enough." Garret answered.
As they neared the door at the end of the hall, Rowan could hear Garret whisper "I wish Talion was here."
Rowan knew all too well that the brothers did not get along very well at all. While Garret was always playing the leader, Talion was always the lone wolf. Garret always did his duty, while Talion was always doing what his heart told him to do. Undoubtedly, Talion was the more violent one. It was always clear who King Cecil's favorite son was.
Talion and Cecil scarcely saw eye-to-two. Too many times were the castle halls filled with their screaming at each other. Five years prior, Talion crossed the line with his father and one could argue with all of Dorian as well. Prince Talion was disowned, stripped of all of his royal titles, deprived of all of his inheritance, and exiled from the kingdom, never to return unless he is welcomed back. Rowan highly doubted that the King would let Talion back home.
Garret was not too fond of the decision, and Rowan knew that because of all of the eldest son's protests. However, the heir to Dorian learned that certain decisions had to be made, and eventually accepted the fact that he may never see his brother again. The other siblings have yet to forget.
Rowan ceased all thinking of Talion when the escort opened the large, double doors that led into the dining room.
He was surprised to find that the dining room was more or less a small ballroom. There was a very large, rectangular table located in the center of the room, with dozens of chairs. Only about a quarter of the chairs were occupied by men dressed in elegant clothing. On the ceiling hung beautiful, glimmering chandeliers which had large, open spaces surrounded the table between it and the walls. The majority of the men found themselves standing and talking in that open space.
There were four walls out of the room, including the one in which Garret and Rowan entered through. Each had two guards standing beside them, vigilant. The black and orange colors that decorated the Ryke nation were unsurprisingly found on them. Attached to their waists were sheathed swords, and in their hands were spears held upright.
There were quite a few unfamiliar faces to Rowan in the room. He reckoned that they were associated with Ryke and Saren, and perhaps even Tyro. He more or less knew the people involved politically with Dorian.
"Why, look who it is." Said a female voice with the southern British accent people in Saren all had.
Rowan and Garret turned to the direction in which the voice originated, and from the crowd came a beautiful girl in a red dress which matched her physical features. Her brunette hair went to her shoulders with elaborate braids on her head. Her green eyes were looking straight at Garret.
"It's been quite a long time, Garret." The woman said. Rowan would describe her as barely a woman as she looked no older than twenty. Twenty-one perhaps?
"Ah, it's been too hectic lately to catch up, Princess Emily." Garret responded. "Considering your father joined Wicken Ryke in conquering all of Jana."
Rowan then remembered exactly who the woman was. She was none other than Emily Saren of Saren. She was the reason for Talion's banishment. Because of that, not many people in Dorian were quite fond of her, most especially the residents of the castle.
"I assure you, I had nothing to do with the war." Emily argued. The way she spoke was so gentle yet asserting. It would not be hard to believe that she had a way with words. "Garret, why don't we just go back to being friends, or at least acquaintances."
"After the hell you and Talion put us all through, forgive me if I'm having a hard time warming up, Princess."
"I'm afraid it's Lady, now." Emily corrected. "Besides, it was five years ago when-"
"When we caught you in Talion's bed?" Garret finished.
"Whatever was between Talion and I is finished now, Garret." Emily quickly rebutted. "We made a mistake."
"And only one had to suffer the consequences." Rowan summed up.
Emily looked annoyed at both Garret and Rowan. Her annoyed expression soon morphed into a smile which was obviously false, but it was still a smile nonetheless. She held her hand out at Rowan, offering it for a shake.
"Don't believe I've ever had the pleasure." Emily said. "Lady Emily Saren."
Rowan obliged to her handshake. "Rowan Randyll. Friend of the Dorians."
Garret didn't let the two continue their small introductions. "Well, Lady Emily, it has been quite the joy catching up with you, but I'm afraid duty calls me elsewhere." And with that, Garret gave a sloppy bow and walked off. Rowan looked toward the direction Garret was walking to find Lord Cecil standing alone, eyes on Garret.
Rowan moved his foot to follow, but Emily's hand pressed against his chest. That was not even the most surprising part, nor the part where she leaned closer to him. She stood on her toes with her mouth next to his ear. The most surprising part was when she whispered "Don't drink the wine. If you value your lives, get out."
The blood in his face drained. He watched as she walked away from him, not looking back. When she disappeared in the crowds of people, only then did Rowan turned to go after Garret.
He wasn't sure whether or not Emily had just confirmed the suspicions he and Garret had. However, it did not bode well at all. If it were just a lie she had whispered in his ear, then it would make zero sense as no one was to gain from it.
Garret and his father were already in conversation by the time Rowan reached the pair. He looked at the king and could see the years nor the war was kind to him. He looked an awful lot like Garret as both had styled, brown hair and blue eyes, but Cecil had a fair amount of grey lines in his hair. The wrinkles on his were rather obvious and emphasized. He looked ten years older than he really was, all in all.
"This does not feel right." Rowan heard Garret say to his father when he reached them.
"And do you think I have not felt it?" Cecil asked.
"Father, we're mice crawling towards a trap except there is no cheese." Garret explained.
"We must keep up appearances." Cecil announced, subtly so that only Garret and Rowan could hear. "I'm the king, and you're my heir. It is expected of us to be here, and I believe they intend to keep us here. Look at the guards, Garret. Have you ever stopped and wondered why they're even here."
"We must remain vigilant, at the least." Garret mumbled.
"As if there was any doubt?" The old king replied.
"My lord," Rowan started, "if I may add a comment to further strengthen Garret's point?"
"I trust you have come with crucial information, then, Rowan." Cecil agreed. Rowan saw that Garret had a confused expression. It was rare for Rowan to know something which Garret did not.
"Lady Emily told - Or rather, warned me to not drink the wine." Rowan revealed with a quite voice. "She then said to leave if we value our lives."
"I had my suspicions." Cecil said, not even showing a change in his expression. It was a king's duty to know when and when not to put himself and others in danger, of course. "So, they expect to poison us?"
"What makes you think Emily was telling the truth, father?" Garret inquired.
"If she was bluffing, all she'd be doing is robbing us from a nice drink." Cecil answered.
"So what do we do, my lord?" Rowan asked.
"This does not change anything." Cecil gloomily stated. "All we can do is play along."
"I thought this party was nothing more than a formality." Rowan recalled out loud.
"It's more than that, Rowan." Cecil corrected. "What is said in that dining table will determine the fates and futures of Tyro, Saren, and most importantly Dorian."
"If it is Wicken Ryke who calls the shots-" Garret started before being interrupted.
"It is not Wicken who I'm afraid of." Cecil muttered.
"Gentlemen!" Called a young man's voice. "Ladies! Of course, most of you are gentlemen. If you consider otherwise, well, I'm not judging." Chuckled the same voice.
Rowan saw the concerned look in his lord's face. The concern showed a sense of worry. He had a feeling that whoever Cecil was afraid of was the one calling for everyone's attention.
"Ah, it's time for you all to stop whispering amongst yourselves," said the same voice, "and come to the dining table. Hurry up, seats may be taken quite quickly. If you prefer to sit on a stool, well, that could be arranged."
"Funny." Rowan heard Garret mutter.
The three reluctantly approached the table along with the crowds of sophisticatedly dressed men attending the party. As they walked, Rowan felt Cecil grab his arm. He then heard the whispers of the lord in his ear.
"If and when things go wrong, I need you to protect Garret. He must live if I cannot. Do you understand me? If they truly do mean to betray us, then you two must go outside. Warn the soldiers. It will be hell in the streets, but that's the price we'll pay and the risk we'll take."
"I . . . I understand, my lord." Acquiesced Rowan.
Rowan got a good look at the announcer when he, Garret, and Rowan took their seats. The three sat on one end of the table, to the right of the man sitting at the very end of the rectangle who was none other than King Michael Tyro. The man's full, black beard hid his frown.
However, Rowan didn't pay too attention on King Michael. His eyes were locked on the man who sat on the opposite end of the table from Michael. The announcer. He couldn't have been any older than his mid twenties. Rowan would assume he was around twenty-five. His grey eyes seemed so emotionless, yet the smirk on his face showed his mischievous nature. His coal black hair was shot yet styled neatly like his facial hair which covered about half of his face but it was not full, as it was only about a centimeter long.
"Ah, thank you." The man sarcastically said. "Your ability of sitting down when instructed is definitely going to help you save lives."
"Where is your father, Alec?" Michael asked the man.
"I'm so sorry, Michael," the man named Alec started, "I don't know who you're talking to."
"Where is your father, Prince Alec?" Michael corrected, obviously annoyed.
Rowan looked around at the people sitting in the rectangular table. All of them looked just as uneasy as Cecil. Either Prince Alec was highly revered or highly feared. He bet that the latter was the most probable explanation.
"Ah, you're talking to me!" Alec chuckled. "Well, my royal father, King Wicken - and it is king now - couldn't join this extravagant event tonight, unfortunately. Fortunately, you all won't be without a host. Unfortunately, your host is none other than me. Fortunately, I'll have you all know that I'm a fair person. Unfortunately, some of you may not be willing to . . . Submit as easily. Fortunately, I'm a patient person. Isn't it a strange old we live in? Full of positives and negatives to every single thing."
"I demand to see Wicken Ryke, Alec." Michael said loudly, pounding his fist on the table.
When he said that, and in the blink of an eye, Alec pulled out a dagger sheathed to his side and dug it into the wooden table. Everyone was surely startled, and Rowan swore that the people who sat closest to Alec scooted away. He noticed how even Lady Emily, whose family fought on Alec's side, was unsettled.
"Oh, I apologize." Alec said calmly. "I just thought all of us were being rude." He then let out what seemed like a gentle chuckle. "Wasn't that funny?" He asked to no one in particular. His friendly demeanor turned hostile, or at least, more hostile than it already was. Some people had the obligation to laugh along half-heartedly.
"Anyway," Alec continued, "you're in no position to make demands now, are you Michael?"
Lord Michael stayed silent, showing a false stoic demeanor. Small drops of sweat ran down his forehead.
"I asked you a question." Asserted Alec.
"I . . . Apologize, Prince Alec." Michael reluctantly said.
"Apology accepted." Alec said quite easily. "Now, we shan't discuss politics on empty stomachs. "Tom!"
Rowan didn't even notice that there was a special guard in the room. Dressed in much more elegant armor with a red cape that drooped down onto the ground, the man Rowan assumed to be called Tom approached the chair in which Alec was sitting in. He had his helmet held at his side. What Rowan found interesting was that Tom had similar facial features to Alec. As far as he knew, Alec Ryke was Wicken Ryke's only son.
"Ah, punctual as always, aren't you Tom?" Alec complimented, although Tom seemed unfazed. "My deepest apologies to you all." Alec said to the table. "This here is Tom, my father's bastard son, making him my half brother. Say hello to the nice people, brother."
Before Tom could open his mouth, Alec continued. "Good. Now that we're all acquitted, Tom, would you kindly go get the chefs. We have a treat for these people, now, don't we?"
Without a word, Tom nodded and exited the room while it was still in silence. Alec retained a smug smile throughout. Rowan would've been clenching his hand over his sword, only to remember that the Ryke guards made sure no one entered with a weapon. They were like pigs awaiting slaughter.
"Now, onto business." Alec said, clapping his hands together. "As previously stated, Ryke and Saren have won the little scuffle you all call a war. I, on the other had, call it a bump on the road. Thank you, Lord Saren, for assisting us."
"It was my pleasure." Said Lord Alastair Saren. He sat next to his daughter, Emily, but they looked nothing alike. He was old, perhaps a decade older than Lord Cecil if Rowan had to guess. His hair was white, his figure thick and pudgy, his face matching his body but with wrinkles. The only likeness he shared with his daughter were his green eyes, although Emily's eyes were much brighter. Rowan noticed hoe Emily looked down at the table, perhaps with shame.
"Of course, now it is time to see what is to be done with Tyro and Dorian." Alec continued. He grabbed his dagger and pulled it out of the wooden table, examining the blade as he spoke. "I could destroy both and reduce them to rubble, but that would just be . . . Unwise."
"What are your thoughts then?" Michael asked.
Even though Michael obviously asked Alec, the men who were not royalty spoke up. They were mostly generals and other politicians, so of course they had little say in any matters, however, they were the ones who thought they could speak for their rulers.
Rowan saw how Alec was getting irritated by the chatter. His eyes were closed, but the twitching of his face was what gave the irritation away. It didn't take long for Alec to get so annoyed he took action. He used his dagger to jab it into the throat of the man closest to him. As blood rushed from out of the wound in his neck, the chattering people silenced in fear. Rowan wasn't sure what side the man was on, but apparently, it didn't matter.
"Thank you for your attention." Alec said, pulling his dagger out of the man's throat. The corpse fell face first, limp against the table. Alec wiped the blood on his dagger off on the dead man's clothes. The prince ignored the splatter of blood on his face. "You see, I don't like raising my voice." Alec explained. "Some ways are just more . . . Effective." He then patted the back of the corpse. "It wasn't his fault, really, but no matter. I don't want to see anyone open their mouths unless I'm talking to them. If you have something to say, be civilized. Raise your hand."
After a chuckle, the prince continued with his edict. "We here at Ryke do not wish to see Tyro or Dorian in ashes. Dorian least of all. I'm rather sympathetic towards poor Cecil. We all know your choice was all but fair. So, I will give Dorian a chance to defend itself. In one sentence, Cecil, please explain to me why Dorian should be spared from destruction, or at least, our dictatorship."
"We have natural resources," Cecil started without hesitation, "and our means of obtaining them are more practical, safer, and with a greater abundance of the item than Saren will ever have."
Alastair began to speak out. "That's a lie and-"
Alec threw his dagger down onto the table in front of Alastair and Emily from where he was sitting. That caused Emily to gasp and Lord Saren to shut his mouth.
"What did I just say, Alastair." Alec asked. He then looked at the corpse which was still on the table, bleeding. "Do you want to end up like Mr. Sore-throat over here?"
Alastair Saren grunted silently, and looked down at the table, pretending to ignore Alec.
"Please continue, Cecil." Alec said.
"We produce the finest steel weapons Jana and perhaps the world has ever known." Cecil continued. "Our wood is strong, and our craftsmen could make it so the wood could suit any need for centuries. Not only that, but our gold mines are still abundant. If you are without Dorian, you will never gain access to the quality of materials we possess."
"And what of you, Alastair?" Alec asked. "What differentiates you from them?"
Lord Saren started. "Saren has been a loyal ally to Ryke, and-"
"And how many shits do you think I give about your so-called loyalty, Alastair?" Alec asked. "Saren is useless to Ryke if you have no practical contributions. Now, Alastair, look me in the eye and tell me what Saren can offer, or at least do better, compared to Dorian. Please, don't lie to me." He rubbed the blade of his dagger with his fingers. "That would be most . . . Unfortunate."
Rage filled Lord Saren's face red. "Your father would not-"
"Father, please!" Pleaded Lady Emily who put her hand on her father's shoulder. That was enough to keep the Lord from talking.
"Smart girl." Alec complimented. "Lovely girl. Your daughter, I presume."
Lord Saren nodded.
"The apple fell very far from the tree, apparently." Laughed Alec. "I told a joke." He informed the rest of the table. "It is customary and polite to laugh."
Of course, reluctant laughs followed. Alec Ryke truly did have everyone under his thumb.
"My Lady," Alec started, "please answer the question your father rudely tried to avoid. What can Saren offer Ryke?"
"It is true when Lord Cecil says that Dorian has a stronger hand in trade as well as a talent in crafting." Emily admitted. "And I admit that Saren does not compare to Dorian when it comes to those aspects. What we do have is what we have over Dorian is military numbers, although our army is quite small. That may be the best we can offer Ryke, my prince."
"Bravo." Alec said. "Your father must learn to follow your example for often, my lady. I know it may be rude of me to ask, my lady, but are you married to any lucky man?"
"No, my prince." Emily answered gloomily.
"So neither one of us is spoken for." Alec said. "I've been looking for a wife, but, I must say, having your father as my father-in-law sounds very . . . Unattractive. What about you, Lord Cecil? I hear you have daughters of your own."
"Two, my prince." Cecil answered. "I'm afraid, however, that my eldest daughter is away to serve the princess of Arendelle. My youngest daughter is merely fourteen years old."
"What a shame." Alec said. If he was interested in Emily at all, Rowan believed that the interest had gone away as he no longer expressed it. "Let's get back on track, shall we? Now, I have an edict. Dorian shall continue to thrive, alongside Saren of course, as long as both submit to Ryke as their Warden Kingdom."
"And what of Tyro?" Lord Michael asked. "What of my kingdom?"
"Tyro will also continue to function." Alec assured. "We're not barbarians. I'm smart enough to know when to squeeze practical uses out of otherwise doomed kingdoms."
Michael started again. "What power do you-"
"The power granted to me by my father, King Wicken Ryke." Alec interrupted with sharp eyes and a sharp voice. "He has discussed the benefits he wanted from your kingdoms with me prior to our meeting." From his pocket, Alec pulled out a folded paper and opened it up. "Here is the formal manuscript which details the terms I have discussed with my father, meaning the terms I discussed with you all. Four signatures are needed. One signature is already on there. Can any of you guess whose signature is still required?"
After he said that, the doors far behind Alec opened, and in came various servers, all with platters concealed by the metal top. Each platter was rather small, definitely not large enough to hold a plate or bowl of food. However, it was skinny and long upright. They were all the same, and Rowan guessed that that meant they had the same item in it.
"Ah!" Alec clapped his hands with the paper still in it. "Sustenance has arrived!"
The servers put the mysterious platters on the table, with one in front of every person, regardless of their political role. Of course, the corpse next to Alec did not have a platter in front of him.
"I hope you enjoy what we've prepared for you." Alec announced. "Truly, I do."
The servants then all pulled off the top of the platter on each platter to reveal a clear glass of dark red wine. Rowan looked down at the glass with cautious eyes. He looked across the table to find that every glass was identical to his. Don't drink the wine, he recalled.
Rowan gave an uneasy look at Garret. He acknowledged it with a slight nod, and then looked over at his father. Cecil had his eyes fixed on Alec.
"Before we all drink," Alec announced, "let's finish with business before we get into pleasure. Of course, if you're like me, you'll see both as one and the same!"
Alec walked over to the other side of the table opposite to him and stood next to the sitting Lord Michael. Alec lay the paper flat in front of the lord, moving the glass of wine as well.
"By all means." Alec said. "We mustn't delay."
"I . . ." Michael started. "I'm afraid I am without a writing utensil."
"Ah, don't fret." Alec assured. He then walked back over to the deceased man whose blood was still spilling out onto the table. "Mind if I borrow a little more blood?" Alec asked the man. "Of course not." He then stabbed his dagger onto the back of the corpse and pulled it out. The entire blade was covered in red. Following that, he walked back to Michael with blood dripping from the blade.
"It's not necessarily a pen, mind you, but it should suffice." Alec said.
Rowan knew Michael had no say in the matter. Reluctantly, Lord Michael took the dagger away from Alec who smiled when Michael signed his signature with the bloody tip of the dagger.
"Excellent!" Alec exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Now, it goes onto you, my good Lord Cecil." Rudely, Alec grabbed the dagger and paper away from Michael Tyro who did not seem at all upset to have them taken away.
Rowan noticed that Garret was trying his best to look away from Alec, his father, the dagger, and the paper. It was as if the combination of the four brought him shame. Rowan, for one, couldn't blame him.
Cecil signed it with a slight annoyance in his face. It was much quicker than Michael's signature so it was clear that Lord Cecil wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.
"Beautiful." Alec complimented as he passed on the dagger and paper onto Lord Saren who signed it impassively. Immediately after the signing, Alec grabbed the dagger and the paper away, and with a quick hand movement, it was in his pocket. The dagger, however, still remained in the sight of everyone, making Rowan rather nervous.
"Now!" Alec said, standing next to Michael once again, with his hand on his shoulder. "Formal business is done and dealt with. What do you say we have a toast?"
Michael held the wine in his hand, stirring the drink in the glass with the use of his wrist.
"What for?" Michael asked.
"I'm thrilled you asked that." Alec said. "To peace, of course. Actually, on second thought . . . No, not peace. I fear I've been far too humble this evening. To me! To my father! To Ryke! A toast for Ryke!"
"For Ryke." Everyone sitting around the table said at once, although half-heartedly.
Rowan eyed the table before he brought the glass to his lips. He noticed how only half of the people in the table were sipping from their cups, and he noted how the drinking half were all on the half of the table reserved for those from Dorian and Tyro. The only people who weren't drinking were himself, Garret, Lord Cecil, Lord Michael, and small handful of other men who seemed just as suspicious. Not a single person on the other half of the table drank.
"Will you not drink?" Alec asked Michael. "It is polite to accept the hospitality I'm providing is it not?"
"I . . ." Michael started. "I'd rather not, if that's fine by you."
"Nonsense, Michael!" Alec said. His expression seemed happy, but his demeanor was still intimidating. "Scared of a little wine, are you?"
There was no response. Alec's smirk faded from his face.
"I see." Alec said. "There is no trouble, truly, there's not."
Everyone, including the men who drank, eyed Alec as he wiped the blood of the dagger in his hand.
"Tell me, Michael, how good are you at paying attention?" Alec inquired. "Because from my observations, your ability is atrocious."
Michael spoke out. "I don't see how that-"
Alec then stabbed Michael through the chest with his dagger. It all happened so quickly for Rowan. First, he heard the outrage. Next, he heard the choking and coughing.
Cecil was about to stand, but Alec pulled the dagger out of Michael's chest and pointed it at Cecil. "Ah ah ah." Alec warned.
Rowan and Garret sat in their seats, petrified at what was happening around the men who apparently fought for Tyro and Dorian were choking and coughing up blood which splattered onto the table. Save for a few men on the choking side and all the men on the side representing Saren and Ryke, people were dying.
"What . . ." Michael said, coughing up blood. "What is . . . This?!" He put his hands over his chest and applied pressure, no doubt hoping it would stop the bleeding. "You said-"
"This is where the attention bit comes into play." Alec said. "I never said I needed you, King Michael. Nor did I say I needed Cecil or Alastair. All I needed was the loyalty of the kingdoms Saren, Tyro, and Dorian. Alastair will prove no problem. You on the other hand are more trouble than you're worth."
He then stabbed Lord Michael through the gut, making a bigger cough of blood gush out of his mouth. "It could've been easy, you know." Alec lectured. "You drink the wine, and your death wouldn't be as painful. Not that it wouldn't have been painful, mind you. It mattered not. This just made it more fun for me."
Rowan could see that Michael was losing his grip on life, and he could see that Alec saw that too. Alec gently patted Michael's cheek to keep him conscious.
"I could care less who rules Tyro from now on." Alec continued. "As long as it's not you and as long as they submit."
Alec then pushed Michael off of his chair and into the floor where a pool of blood was collected under him. The prince then turned around to find a good number of people with their heads flat on the table with blood under their faces an over the wood.
"Hm." Alec said. "I would've thought this would've all been messier. Now, to all of you lucky survivors who fought for Tyro and Dorian, I offer you a choice. The wine or the blade?"
The Chronicles will continue
Author's Note:
So it begins. The Lost Crown Chronicles has finally started. Where one conflict ends, another begins.
The Lost Crown Chronicles is based off of the video game Game of Thrones: A Telltale Games Series. However, the story will differentiate drastically from the game, with only certain plot points along with characters being inspired by the game. Although the first chapter may not seem like it, this is definitely a Frozen related story. Although it does not serve as a direct sequel to the film, it takes place in the same universe. Characters from the film will definitely interact with original characters from the story, and every POV character will interact with a different person from the film. However, this is Game of Thrones inspired as much as Frozen inspired, so be careful when getting too attached to a character. You won't know when they're on the chopping block, unless of course, you've played the game.
The story shall be written in third-person limited with the point of view switching every chapter to another character, although some exceptions may apply, including the next chapter which will be another Rowan chapter. The entire story will be split into multiple "Episodes" which all contain a good amount of chapters with a variety of POVs. This is the first episode, and I'm thinking it may be the longest. All episodes will be contained under the same story (this one).
Thank you for reading, and please leave a review/comment to let me know what you think as well as letting me know how I can improve. Not only that, but please, make some predictions as to what will happen next. Chapters will most likely be weekly, although that may be extended at some points. Check every Saturday or Sunday for new chapters, and whenever I finish a chapter early, please check on Wednesdays. So, new chapter uploads will be every Saturday or Sunday for sure, but make sure you check on Wednesdays to see if I've released something. (Uploads will be in the afternoon, around six o'clock U.S. Pacific Time)
To make sure I meet the upload expectation, chapters may be cut short to around three thousand words, so don't think they'll ever be as long as this chapter.
Again, thank you for reading. Ciao.