The cloaked figure stepped swiftly from shadow to shadow, watching the spectacle in the square intently. He ducked behind a barrel to view from some kind of hiding spot. A small blonde boy with large blue eyes was being dragged away, kicking and screaming, by two burly castle guards wearing cruel expressions to match the spikes on their shoulder armour. The boy had tears streaming down his face and his white and blue shirt was in tatters from his struggle. A sign was taped to a carriage nearby, depicting the boys face drawn in an almost cruel way, captioned by the words, 'Attempted espionage. Sentenced to severe punishment by law of the King.'
Screams were coming from the surrounding crowd; some of fear, some of outrage, and some from the other children, trying to stick up for their young comrade, no doubt. The guards kicked the children harshly, stopping their yells and even causing some to cough up blood. Two men stood in the crowd, pushing their way to the front, the shorter one with violet-brown eyes sobbing hysterically while the taller one, wearing bent glasses, tried to clear a path through the throng of people.
"Peter! Peter! Give me back Peter!" the shorter one cried, choking up at the end and clutching to the taller one in despair. The two guards just laughed and threw the boy into a small cage in the centre of the square, lifting it onto their shoulders and toting it away to the carriage awaiting them. The cloaked figure darted after, keeping hidden and silent so as not to alert even the local sneaks and thieves of his presence.
After the first few miles, the poster had fluttered off the side of the horse-drawn carriage. The figure picked it up and examined it, staring at the face in the middle. It depicted the boy, Peter, with a mischievous smile and an evil glint in his eye, topped by those startlingly thick eyebrows. Knowing the boy from quite a few village gatherings, he knew that the child wasn't able to, and most likely never will be able to, make such a bloody horrible face. And espionage? Peter was just a young boy raised by humble parents, not a trained spy!
The figure tucked the poster into his cloak, returning to the shadows to resume stalking his prey.
Peter huddled inside the cage, shivering uncontrollably and wishing that the big guards wouldn't kill him. His young mind wandered through the faces of the people he knew he would probably never see again. Mommy and Daddy, The girl across the street Lili, his best friend Raivis… He would most likely be dead before they saw his face again. Or he, theirs. It broke his heart to have to admit that.
A large bump in the road jarred him back to reality as the carriage shook and continued on, one of the wheels now slightly wobbling. He sniffled a bit but held back the tears that threatened to spill onto his cheeks, the effort burning his eyes. After a while he was exhausted by trying to be brave, especially since no one was even there to appreciate his hard work. So he fell asleep.
It was only until the rolling of the carriage stopped that he fully awoke, a bright light shining in his face and the ugly sight of one of the guard's noses up close scarring him forever.
"Come on, boy! We're gonna take you home now!" he snarled, a twisted smile marring his features. Peter shook his head and tried to back further into the corner of the cage, but to no avail. The guard laughed and hefted the metal mesh contraption onto his shoulder, carrying the poor boy into a dimly-lit corridor lined with jail cells. Peter shivered.
What had he done to deserve this?
"Bring in the court magician!" he called, a scowl forming on his face. He didn't usually scowl, or even frown, for that matter, but he was in a terrible mood. He fixed his scarf around his broad shoulders and smiled (albeit strained) at the servant standing next to him. Toris, he thought. "I said bring me the court magician, da?"
The servant nodded his head in fear, his brown hair swishing around as he rushed to call for the magician who was being held in a small adjoining room with the rest of the entertainers. His green eyes widened as he poked his head through the door and saw no magician, just the jester and the lute-player.
"H- hey, do either of you know where Vladimir is?" Toris stuttered, glancing at the two in turn.
"No, he just left a few seconds ago." Roderich replied, plucking at a string on his lute idly and not even pausing to look up.
"Nah, zhe awesome me has not seen him since the last time I saw him!" Gilbert added very helpfully, grinning at his bad attempt at humor. Toris sighed and stepped out of the room, trembling slightly at the thought of telling the man at the head of the table that the magician wasn't there.
Then he heard a laugh from the ceiling and he whipped his head around just in time to see Vladimir swoop down like a giant bat, his unusually sharp teeth glinting in the weak lighting of the dining hall. He landed right in front of Ivan, bowing deeply and still smiling like an idiot. Toris mentally face-palmed.
Ivan smiled widely. "Hello there, Mr. Magician!" he greeted him, his large hands outspread in a welcoming gesture that caused the bystanding service staff to shiver. And yet Vladimir just stood there, unfazed by the huge man's devil smile. Or maybe he was just too stupid to read the mood.
"Well, you all look like you could use some cheering up!" he declared, gesturing to Gilbert, who was peeking out from the other room. The albino grinned and bounded to his partner-in-crime's side, his red eyes glinting in anticipation of their up-and-coming stunt.
On the other side of the dining hall, a woman with long brown hair shook her head and sighed quietly.
'I wish the real royal family would come back to the castle...' she thought, preparing herself for another night of torture disguised as entertainment.
Prince Alfred frowned, his head resting in his hands like it usually did when he was bored. "Hey, Mattie, do you know what we should do?"
"Wh- what?" his brother replied quickly, standing from his perch on the cot, startled that his brother had noticed him in the same room.
"We should retake the throne."
"B- but, Braginski…"
"So what?" the overconfident blonde huffed, his cheeks puffed up childishly. "That overgrown, foreign jerk can go jump off a cliff for all I care! I mean, how hard could it be to take back what's rightfully mine? Er, ours. Anyway, the bigger they are, the harder they fall, right, Bro?"
"S- sure, Alfred." Matthew replied quietly, sitting back down. A knock at the door sounded, alerting the two brothers of someone else's presence. Alfred peered through the doorframe and caught sight of a long black cloak, covering equally as dark lace-up boots.
"Oh, it's just our informant!" he crowed, swinging the door open wide and allowing the man to come inside, along with some rain and wind. Matthew shivered and stood again, offering the man his seat. The figure shook his head and pulled off his hood, revealing short blonde hair and electrified green eyes.
"So, Artie, what's the news?"