Of Kings

Karis bit her lip as the bath water flowed down her bare back, just a tad too hot for her liking. At Karis's insistence, Matthew decided to spend the day in Patcher's Place to stock up on the supplies needed to travel. He had been so intent on rushing off to Champa that he hardly recognized the need for food and water for the trip. Even now, Karis knew that, rather than sleep or do something productive, Matthew was sitting on the roof of the inn, staring off in the direction of Morgal.

Was it called love? Karis wondered, thinking of the time Sveta and Matthew had spent together. Secretly, Karis felt happy Matthew and the kitty-dog were separated, though the unpleasantly heartless thought made her feel a bit selfish. Karis had thought of this trip as her chance, so to speak. Her chance to finally get close to Matthew, like she always wanted.

Ever since they were children, Karis had wanted him. She wasn't sure why he had never appeared to be interested – perhaps she'd be more content if she could read minds, though she did view the power as a sort of curse, and was thus mostly glad not to possess it. However, when it came to Matthew, curse or not, she wanted to know how he thought of her.

She let him hold her hand on the first night away from home, Karis remembered, blushing at the thought of it. She shifted her weight in the bath, slipping down so that she was submerged up to her eyes. Patcher's Place had a small bath house, unfortunately, but it was better than most places, she supposed. When they rented a room at the inn, Karis knew from experience that she was going to miss the relaxing water.

Her muscles began to loosen up as she closed her eyes, letting her mind wander, she suddenly thought of Matthew, of what he'd look like, naked in this bath with her, of what they could do together. The admittedly alluring prospect was broken when she thought of Sveta, and jealousy started to take hold of her.

Have they seen each other naked? Karis wondered, suddenly wracking her head for any indication that their relationship had progressed beyond mere innocent hand-holding. No, they can't have. I don't think they even kissed on the entire journey.

"Ah, damn it!" Karis sat up suddenly, hiding her eyes with her hands. "Why am I stuck on this!?" It was overly-emotional nonsense, Karis thought. She had suppressed these feelings on the quest to save Belinsk. Why couldn't she do so now?
Because this is your chance.

The thought was sudden, exhilarating, yet left her confused and guilt-ridden. Matthew belonged to Sveta. Who was Karis to intrude?

Because if you don't, he'll never be yours.

She lowered her hands, a sort of numb feeling running through her. Everything she was thinking was true. She had the opportunity for anything to happen between here and Champa. Even if it was just for one moment, if Matthew surrendered himself to her feelings just for an instant, then it would be worth it. Sveta didn't need to know anything. It was a long and treacherous journey. Anything could happen, Karis supposed.

But she felt guilty and hesitant as well. It was wrong – she knew it was. Matthew and Sveta were lovers. Or were they? They separated. Didn't that mean that Karis had a rightful opportunity? How was it the fault of Karis if Sveta blew her chance with Matthew?

As she grew more and more tired, more relaxed, Karis drifted off, thinking of how she could win Matthew's affections, trapped in a cycle of guilt and excitement. At once tantalizing and cruel, her heart tormented her enough so that she grew tired of her own mind, and left the bath.

Karis slipped into a clean set of her nightwear, a cute little white slip. Admittedly, she got the idea from Sveta, who commonly wore one to sleep when they stayed at inns. Matthew seemed to like it. As she pulled it on, Karis couldn't help but be confused by Matthew's seeming lack of interest in her – she had an attractive face and body, she had a pleasing enough personality and she definitely wasn't dim-witted. What exactly did Matthew see in Sveta that Karis lacked?
Both were attractive and intelligent – they were both even Jupiter Adepts – so their only real difference would be personality, she supposed.

"Stop it, Karis!" She said to herself, alone in her room. She felt stupid, comparing herself to Sveta. In fact, the entire train of thought that led her to this point was stupid. She shouldn't be basing herself around an attraction to a boy. She can't define herself that way.

"Damn it all." Karis thought to herself as she climbed into her bed, "Sveta is so lucky."

o

A small bit of light, just a little, could escape through that lone crack in the ceiling. It was thin, long, and only opened along its middle to let in what precious little light it could. It couldn't have been wider than a centimeter at most, but to a prisoner, it looked like hope incarnate.

Hope, ever out of reach. Being chained to a wall didn't help with that.

Sveta found herself staring at that crack more than anything else these days, not that there was much else to look at. The dungeons of castle Belinsk were traditional, with cells lining along the walls of long, subterranean hallways. She could tell she was deep underground, even though she had never actually been down to this particular corner of the dungeons before. The light filtering through the crack seemed to come from quite a way above.

Her capture had been planned so intricately that even her bed-servants that helped her change were involved. They had ensured her weapons were nowhere nearby when the black-armored men stormed her bathing room, and even had the audacity to poison her. Poison her! Sveta ran the scene over in her head hundreds of time. How odd that she could go from being attracted to a girl to completely hating her, in the span of five minutes or less.

Colonel Julius must have been at the head of the attack. Sveta subconsciously felt the left side of her jaw itch, where Julius had kicked her, a blow heavy enough to knock her out. Even bare-handed and nearly naked, Sveta was dangerous. In a sense she was glad they felt it necessary to poison her.

When Julius first led her into these catacombs and chained her wrists to the walls, Sveta had nothing else on her mind but escape. She tried psynergy, but found the wind simply would not come to her. Next she figured upon freeing herself from her restraints, but she needed time. Every few hours the soldiers came down to feed her and the other prison, an insane man in another cell, though they were fed at different times, for some reason. So she bid her time, waiting.

On one particularly slow day in prison – the insane man had been tortured to death the day before – Sveta decided to get to work. She spent hours chafing her wrists against that rough metal, blood running down her arms, lubricating her wrists and easing her job. When she finally slipped free, she realized it was a fool's mission. Nowhere in the small cell would her psynergy come to her, and when dinner came, the guard quickly noticed she was free, calling for Julius despite her urgent pleas otherwise.

"What a naughty girl," Julius purred from the dark, motioning the guard to leave them alone. The door was locked behind him, and Sveta saw no key at Julius' waist, but Sveta still thought it was a risky idea to join Sveta in her cell, especially when she was unbound. "Freeing yourself? Oh, look at you," The voice was low, seductive and smooth. It was not the Julius she had grown up knowing. It was some other creature, some vile beast let loose from its leash. "Your so bloody and dirty. Didn't we capture you in a bath?" The hidden, dark shadows from the hearts of man.

Sveta briefly looked down at her hands. Long gashes ran down the lengths of her arms; congealed blood caked her skin, mixed with dirt she had picked up along the way. She had on only the simple white slip she'd been wearing at the time of her attack, her underwear underneath. The bastards hadn't even allowed her to change clothes since she arrived.

"Is this any way to treat your queen?" Sveta snarled, baring her fangs. Briefly she recalled the first time Matthew had seen them; he'd been shocked by the inhumanity of them. 'I'm not human,' she had responded, to which Matthew merely laughed and replied, 'I know.'

"The queen in rags?" Julius had an odd presence. On the one hand, he was familiar, a formerly-trusted soldier that served under Volechek faithfully; and though Sveta had known him for years, there were always the rumors. Volechek had advised her never to listen to rumor and conjecture, but there they remained. 'Young girl raped and murdered in the night,' She would hear, 'A soldier was seen running away.' If Julius was responsible for her capture, perhaps the rumors held truth after all.

"Even in rags I afford more respect than you, churl." Sveta slid one foot back, twisting her body so Julius only saw her side, raising her fists to be ready to strike at any moment. "You will tell me why I've been thrown down here. Who rules Morgal? Who is my usurper? You?" Sveta scoffed.

"Pretty girl, such a pretty girl." Julius said, his tone off, as if he wasn't even paying attention. From his hip he drew a black baton, shaking his head. A wooden stick to restrain me? Is he an idiot? "But such a," Julius' face contorted in rage, "NAUGHTY GIRL!"

He lunged for her, swinging the baton. Sveta ducked under it, blocking his arm with her right wrist, ignoring the pain from her many cuts. Her left rammed into into his stomach, but instead of flesh, her hand met a hard, yet oddly fluid, substance. Almost like a liquid steel. It rippled under the impact, but she could tell Julius hadn't even felt her blow.

Before she could react from the surprise, Julius' left arm shot out, ripping her arm away from his baton hand and turning her halfway around. Predictably, the baton slammed into the back of her head, knocking her to the ground. The hit drained her, mentally and physically, much more than Sveta would have thought a head wound of that strength logically would.

Something special about the baton...? She could barely think as she fell to her hands and knees. Julius pushed her over onto her back with his foot. She lay there, helpless, as Julius straddled her, smiling wickedly.

"Such a naughty girl, your highness." Julius' smile was all she could focus on. He leaned forward, his hands on either side of her head as he brought his face close to hers. His eyes were wide, crazed, his grin expanding beyond what seemed natural. "Escaping is a no-no. You should understand that. But that's okay," His face suddenly changes as he leans back up, sitting on her pelvis, a benevolent and kind expression taking the place of the insane one. "It's only natural that you try to escape one time. Everybody does. So I won't give you my punishment just yet."

Sveta was slowly regaining her wits, but that dark baton was always menacingly close to Julius' grip – she dared not attempt to attack him again. He dragged her to the wall again, then stopped suddenly, standing straight up. For a moment, Sveta was confused, but then his boot impacted her hard in her side. She coughed, fairly certain she was tasting blood. He kicked her a few times, each hit knocking the air out of her, leaving Sveta gasping for air and sputtering blood, Julius himself shouting incomprehensibly with each stroke. She was lucky none of them broke a rib – or maybe they did; she had no way of knowing. She barely felt her wrists being shackled against the wall when the kicks finally ended, but she saw Julius clearly when he knelt by her again, the baton clearly displayed.

"Next time you try to escape, dear queen," His voice was almost giddy. "We're going to get very intimate, oh yes. Very intimate. With a baton!" He cackled, throwing himself upright, shouting. "With a baton! Who would have thought!?" Sveta could hear him laughing for a while yet after he departed.

Ever since then she'd been compliant, making sure that the only time she was out of the chains was when she was given her food, which was only allowed because the guard was forced to watch her eat. And though she never abandoned her plans to escape, when she was alone, she found herself standing less as she resigned herself to that dark chamber. More often she just sat against the ground, her arms shackled above her, numb, as she gazed up at the ceiling. That lone crack soon became her only focus as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

Days and nights melted together. The only time she felt truly conscious was when the light could be seen. Sometimes she'd see it fizzle, move about, grow larger, but then she'd blink and it would be still again. Sometimes she feared that insanity would creep up in this place. How long had she been here? And how much longer? That insane man she could barely remember, how long had he been shackled here? Months? Years?

But then she'd stare at that crack in the sky and let it fill her. There was nothing else in the world, it seemed. The guards that brought her food, every time silent, their faces masks, meant nothing. Julius injuring her was a distant past, though she was grateful that was the only time he visited. Her capture seemed an eternity ago, some twisted kind of birth. All that came before meant nothing, almost.

Occasionally she'd see that blonde hair again, those bluish gray eyes, and she'd remember a love she tried to forget, yet never succeeded. She didn't think she ever would. It was too painful to think of it, though. The crack in the sky helped distract her. She stopped eating, merely staring at the food when they brought it. Eventually they didn't even bother to let her off her chains.

Julius came again eventually, shattering her solitary reverie. Sveta could barely focus when he stepped into the chamber, handing his door key to a guard and hurrying him to leave them alone. Sveta tried to blink him away, thinking him illusory, but he did not vanish. Her consciousness felt clouded. She thought she had a fever, but it was hard to tell now. Nothing much made sense anymore.

"You've been such a good little princess." Julius unshackled her, letting Sveta slump to the ground. They seemed to explode with pain as circulation returned to normal. Much of her arms were swollen, red, and vicious, pus leaking from several of her cuts. "I decided to come down here today to give you a little reward."

Sveta was barely conscious of Julius laying her on her back, a claw cutting along the withered slip she had been wearing. Barely realizing that he had exposed her underwear and bare stomach, Sveta attempted to roll to the side to cover herself, but Julius easily held her back. She was weak, too weak. Sickness and fever clouded her head, but Julius' gaze bored into her, terrorizing her.

"No, no!" Sveta meekly called out as Julius laughed, running a hand along the inside of her leg. He was purring now, his hand nearly-

"Julius!" A sharp retort from outside the cell. Instantly the Colonel broke the gaze, hissing at the voice behind the cell door. "Stop playing your games! The King wants to see Sveta."

"Silence, Vande!" Julius' fur was standing on end now. For a moment Sveta thought it was odd exactly how inhuman Julius was. She felt her head tilt, and saw a golden creature outside the door, benevolence seeping from its very presence.

"By the light, look at her!" The golden man fumbled with the lock before throwing the door open, running to Sveta. Julius backed away, still hissing. A cool hand was placed against her head. "She looks like death. How could you have been treating the queen like this!?" The golden man was angry now. Sveta felt herself carried in strong, soft arms. Safe. She almost felt like sleeping. "And her clothes? They're disgusting, and why are they ripped!? What did you do to her?"

"I have my needs, Vande," Julius was incredibly agitated now, but Sveta hardly noticed. "She is... delicious."

"You disgusting bastard." Were the last words Sveta could clearly make out. Somehow she recognized being rushed down a hall, someone shouting for help, but she couldn't think past that. All she could do was sleep.

o

Ascending those steps would never be easy, not when thousands of pirates were shouting, cheering, desperately and in disunion. Eoleo stepped up slowly, Ivan a pace or so behind and below him. Every step made Eoleo want to turn away, to run back down the stairs to the safety of his private quarters.

But no, as the King of Champa and the Angaran oceans, he kept his gaze forward. At the end of the long, ascending staircase, the tunnel opened up to the morning sky. Beautiful and blue, and he knew already it would have been a perfect day for sailing.

"The sky says volumes about your people today," Ivan breathed in deeply, exhaling contentedly. "That they are willing to stay in the city merely to hear their new king speak shows the depths of their worries. Many would prefer a nice day of sailing over a cruel hand forcing them back to reality."

"King Wo rises to the north." Eoleo stated, his voice confident and sure, but that was just to protect the uncertainty he felt within. "The people must be informed of the danger they face, of how close we are to war with the man. We control the best fishing seas on this side of the world; if the Sanan blockade gets any tighter, the people must be willing to fight for their own."

"Your people are pirates, not soldiers." Ivan pointed out. Eoleo nodded, knowing the significance of that. "When war comes, they will rally around the easiest solution to their problems, not what honor or duty binds them to. You must make them understand that Wo will destroy everything that they hold dear."

"Would he truly?" Eoleo's eyebrow shot up and he looked to Ivan.

"It does not matter." Ivan shrugged. "It only matters that your people think that they're better off siding with you, else they will not fight with you. A leader without the support of his people is nothing. The only difference between benevolent monarchy and brutal dictatorship is whether the people give their support through respect or fear."

Eoleo scoffed, not pleased by the answer. "Politics is akin to lying. This is distasteful." He stated, crossing his arms. "I hoped that requesting Matthew to join me here would make this simpler."

"If you are not able to lead, then you should have refused the crown when it was offered." Ivan stated, a wry smile on his face. "Or you can just surrender Champa to King Wo now and save yourself the hassle of getting your head caved in by his war hammer."

"I will not submit to tyranny." Eoleo growled, his voice getting low. "My people are free men. I would sooner die than allow them to be enslaved by a land-hungry warlord."

Ivan paused for a moment, pondering. Then, "You're a rare man, Eoleo. You think of your people above yourself. Most rulers in this day and age are incapable of that."

"Yeah," Eoleo grinned. "Just let King Wo try to take Champa from me. I'll send him back to Kaocho with his tail between his legs."

Ivan chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure that's what Unan thought too before he was completely outmaneuvered, shoved into a corner and then captured. Doubtless, Unan was still completely certain he could win even as he was being dragged to the execution block to get his head chopped off."

Eoleo's smile disappeared at that. He turned forward, uncertain of what to say now. Unan had indeed been killed by King Wo, not a week after he had been captured. From what information Ivan had given him about the attack, Unan was betrayed by a close general. All his plans were leaked to Wo, preventing any sort of true counterattack. The rumors even stated that now General Xiang, the traitor, stood at Wo's side in governing his newly conquered territory.

Shortly after Sana was conquered, King Wo sent ships to blockade the only exit from the Southern Angaran Sea. It was a wide barrier, spread thin enough that Eoleo's slim pirate ships could still sometimes navigate between the slower, clunkier battleships that Wo employed. If it grew tighter, however, it could cut off the town from valuable fishing grounds. Champa would have no choice but to go to war. However, Eoleo was grateful he had the aid of Ayuthay to the west. Amiti's government was highly supportive of Champa and negated much of the threat of any attack by land from Kaocho. It still baffled him how Kaocho had mustered enough manpower to fight Sana after the Grave Eclipse.

No, not Kaocho any longer, Eoleo reminded himself, South Sana.

The walk to daylight was growing shorter and shorter. Soon Eoleo would face his people, the thronging masses that they were. He gave one last nod to Ivan before emerging into the dawn. He stood at the top of his castle, which was built into a massive hill, a few hundred feet in the air. The platform was large enough to hold Eoleo, Ivan and his most trusted warriors and advisers Spread out before him, sprawled across houses, hills, any available space there was, were his people. The people of Champa.

"All hail King Eoleo," A mighty voice boomed from the side and Eoleo realized with a start that it was Ivan, speaking into his hands. His voice was amplified a hundred times over, likely a product of Jupiter psynergy, to project to the entirety of the crowd. "Leader of one of the last free bastions on this continent, of the people of Champa, who will never bend their knees to the unworthy!"

Perhaps they do not know yet that I am unworthy? Eoleo thought grimly, nervous beyond all measure. These thousands are mine to command; my people, my blood. I rule them, but they are more powerful than I, alone, ever will be. I must earn their favor or forever be burdened. No pressure, right?

Ivan nodded to Eoleo, and the King nodded back. It was time to impress, or time to fail. Eoleo opened his mouth to speak, and all was hushed, like the world itself was awaiting him to speak.

All of Champa, at least."My people, hear me." Eoleo paused already, searching in his mind for the words he had prepared earlier. They had flown, but Eoleo knew better than to show that he did not know what to say. "I cannot lie to those who make me King: we are threatened. To the north lays the greatest threat Champa has ever known, with the power to make the horrors of the Grave Eclipse seem small indeed. Sana has been conquered by a violent warlord, one we had long thought too weak to be a threat to us," And woe to us for being so fooled. "With the deposition and execution of the rightful emperor Unan, Sana is no longer our ally. We are soon at war! If we do not act against them soon, they have promised to burn our houses, enslave our children, rape our women."

Gasps rang out from the crowd, as well as murmurs. Whispers and chattering arose, worriedly and politely hushed, but loud enough. Eoleo raised a hand to silence them, and they quickly acquiesced. I wonder how long that will work. How long will they listen to me?

"I humbly request your assistance, my people. We must defend ourselves, by whatever means necessary. The threat of Sana is too great to be ignored! We are at war!" Eoleo found his voice rising with the responses of the people. With his every word they shouted, or hushed, or gasped when needed, hanging onto him like a babe at the breast. They need me. For now. "But we will never bend knee!" Hesitant cheers at first, but it built. "The pirates of Champa are free people!" More shouting, stronger. "We do not fear brigands and barbarians and violent tyrants!" Now the entire mass was shouting with him. "There is only one answer to the threat that rises. We must fight!" Calls to arms rose in the crowd. Weapons clanged. Pirates shouted, their swords in the air. "We must toss this Emperor Wo," Eoleo spat the name in disgust. "Back into the hole whence he came!" The cheering could only grow louder. To the side he saw Ivan smile, a tiny, mischievous thing. Yet as soon as Eoleo took note, the smile was gone.

"But I need an army! I need a navy! I need my people of Champa! I need the brave warriors that drove back the First Assault!" The name given to Wo's first attack by sea, which had been repelled by a hasty coalition of sailors under Eoleo's command. "And I need the heroes of tomorrow! I need the good fishwives and the young and the strong and the wise! Together, we will never surrender!" Cheers. "We will never submit!" More, and more. "For we are Champa!"

Eoleo had his arms up by then, his great-axe held on high. So many of the pirates below emulated him. He saw the grizzled old sailors, the young and bright, the brave and strong. He saw the women, standing with the men with weapons of their own. All his people, calling for war and blood and glory. Each wanted to take Wo's head themselves, to see it ripped from his shoulders mercilessly.

Ivan clapped him on the shoulder, whispering a good job. Eoleo turned to see the man walk back into the tunnel, an odd look on the adept's face.

They will love me when I win.

Eoleo kept himself smiling, but inside he was less cocksure.

But the gods themselves protect me should I fail.

o

"Matthew, hold up!" He turned, looking back at the girl who had fallen behind without him noticing. Matthew berated himself for a moment about being so absent-minded before walking over, but the feeling was quickly lost. Soon he felt slightly annoyed at Karis's continued insistence to stop; her reasons for doing so weren't consistent and all she was successfully accomplishing was slowing them down.

"What?" Matthew snapped at her as he got closer, Karis's eyes widened at his reaction. "Don't act like this is coming as a surprise, Karis. This is the fourth time in the last two hours you've stopped us."

"Well, I found something remarkable here," She gestured down to a odd-looking flower, its red and yellow petals stretching out in a spiral shape around a bright gold center. "It's called Amrit, and it's incredibly rare. Some even say its nectar confers immortality."

Matthew said nothing. As annoyed as he was, he was intrigued. Around the campfire, he'd heard stories of the flower from Kraden, of its many stories and curses spread throughout the ages.

"There are other stories too, tales that its a harbinger of dark times to come." Karis continued, squatting down in front of the curious plant. "That when it appears, death is not too far behind. There was even one tale Kraden told of a woman who picked a flower, brought it home to show to her husband and children-"

"-and they turned insane and killed each other." Matthew squatted down next to her; they locked eyes and she nodded. "It was one of his creepier stories. Why not take a cutting of the flower, Karis?"

"What, and risk both of us dying?" Karis laughed, and Matthew suddenly found his annoyance had disappeared. He smiled with her, nodding his head.

After a while of laughing, her looked back at the pretty little thing. "Let's take it with us. Those legends can't be true, and my Venus psynergy could keep it alive until we can find a vase to put it in more permanently."

"So you're just gonna carry around a flower with us?" Karis said, incredulous.

"If it's rare, then it's worth it, right?" Matthew reached over with his right hand, ruffling Karis's hair.

"Hey!" She laughed again, swatting away his hand. "Stop it!" More smiling.

"I'll stop when you let me make my own decisions, damn it." Matthew joked, using his other hand when Karis successfully pulled his right away. As he reached, however, he felt himself slip off balance, tumbling forward, dragging Karis down with him.

She shrieked in surprise as she fell on top of him. Matthew, feeling stupid and clumsy, found himself oddly giddy as Karis rearranged herself, sitting on his stomach. She bent over, pressing her forehead against his, grinning widely.

After a little while, Karis sat back up again, still on top of him. "That was weird. It was like we were kids all over again, playing around and rough-housing like we used to." She had a mischievous expression on her face. "Though you haven't dragged me to the ground in years."

"You make it sounds so inappropriate." Matthew pushed her off, "Sorry about snapping before. I've just been so impatient lately to get to Sveta." Karis's jovial expression dropped suddenly, but was replaced in a moment. "Maybe we should take it easy. It's unlikely that arriving a day or two later will mean missing our chance to get through the Sanan blockade."

"It's okay." Karis stood to the side, extending her hand to help Matthew up, which he accepted. "We'll go at whatever pace you want. So what to do about the flower now?" She asked when they were both upright, "Gonna keep it?"
"Why not?" Matthew opened both of his palms downward towards the ground, psynergy flowing around him lightly, rustling the leaves off the path. After a moment, a perfect circle appeared around the flower, uprooting it perfectly, a circle of dark soil connected to fragile root ends.

"Yeah," Karis grinned, "What's the worst that can happen?"


Author's Note:

JamesK716: Oh, definitely there will be more pairings, but I won't divulge who they are yet. But yeah, if anything this story may seem lighter at times than Risen was, though I'm hoping the darkest moments will surpass my previous story.

Cstan: You assume Heath is involved with the Tuaparang. :P But yeah, there's a lot going on here, and also a lot going on that hasn't been revealed yet. The Tuaparang aren't just in Sana and Morgal. The servants aren't, honestly, that important. Maybe I'll fit in their motivations somewhere, but I don't know if I ever will. After all, when you get drugged and thrown in prison, not all details about why become clear.

EDIT: Fixed a formatting error in Eoleo's chapter. All of the italics were squished together. D: It's fixed now.