Chapter Four - Runs in the Family

Virigreen traditions - the youngest son is often the heir to the throne. This is done because the king believes he can learn from his previous parenting mistakes and raise the next child to better effect.

At the far northern corner of Cloudsmoor, a lone castle stands against the test of time. The scene was still and devoid of life, except for the one decidueye who had landed before its front steps.

As the arched doors creaked shut behind him, the prince took his time and ventured down the hallway with a calm, steady stride. His talons made no sound on cold granite, though the chilling wind howled - one swift, sudden gust could knock anyone off their feet. Stained glass on the ceiling took on a sinister glow on sunny days like these, with series of shadows splayed across his path as he maneuvered in and out of them.

"A letter from my oldest brother, Brunswick," Decidius uttered to himself, voice bouncing off the cold walls. "Either someone's dying, or dead. That bastard doesn't care about anything else."

There was something about the timing of the letter that didn't feel quite right to him, and, upon reaching the master's chambers, his doubts proved to be true. On the bed lied a certain decidueye, whose gaze was merely a shadow of his past glory. He coughed, pulling his blankets up to his neck, still shivering beside the fireplace.

"Son...come..." he trailed off, the king's fading voice almost foreboding.

Decidius snorted. "Which one, dad?" He sneered, yet ultimately obliged by stepping up towards his bedridden father. A wing grazed Decidius' cheek as the glazed, lifeless stare went right past him. As much as the prince hated to admit it - his father's condition had worsened a lot over the last few weeks.

"You have your grandfather's eyes," spoke the king. "You're meant for greatness, my boy…"

"Dad, we all look the same," came Decidius' response, turning away and refusing to meet his father's gaze. He wished to remember his dad as a strong, determined individual with a heart and will of iron; this display was simply too out of character for him.

The king coughed and wheezed in quick succession. Even his son winced and took a step back. "Shut up and let me talk, Decidius Virigreen. You're always the rebellious one - it's not hard to tell you apart."

"Well, i'm all ears. What is it today?"

"Not to ruin your mood or day, son, but I believe my days are numbered. My condition has only worsened, and it's getting bad fast. You...you're the youngest boy in the family - I'm certain you know what that means," he gripped his son's shoulder with the wing, a sense of urgency in his words. "Let's...give you a little test. To see if you know what to do when the situation in your hands."

"I...don't seem to follow."

"Well, you know how we've been at war on the western front for about a year now. We have lost ninety percent of our own men, vastly outnumbered. We were flanked at night - a mistake made by a brother of yours. He paid with his life. If I was out there..."

Decidius stepped in by interrupting him, raising a wing to make a point. "We'd be at better odds thanks to your tactical brilliance, yada yada. You said that last time, dad, but you're not going there anytime soon. You're too sick-"

"That's not my point," warned the king. He lifted a wing and shook one of his fingers, "What would you do next, if you were king? Would you order a retreat? Think carefully."

Knowing that his father wouldn't take a simple answer, Decidius tapped his chin and began pacing around the room. It took him a few moments of careful calculations, but his response was confident and, well, quintessentially Decidius.

"Well, you'd want me to consider all the outcomes, right? Of course you would. If I were to retreat, I'd still lose about five hundred men, and probably face widespread humiliation from my people. My reputation would be tarnished. People would lose faith. At least, if I were to keep fighting on, the soldiers would die in glory and the defeat would be an honorable one. They'd die in peace knowing that they have done great service, and negotiations with the neighboring kingdom might be more forgiving...since they value honor over everything else."

It could simply be the candles beside the king, but his eyes sparkled with rekindled life. "I knew you'd make the right decision, son. Ultimately, five hundred men...they're all expendable. After all, that's only a fraction of the army."

"Right," came Decidius' response. He was moreso thinking how nice he'd look in his father's crown. "And the families would be too busy mourning for their losses to take any drastic actions. If they do, the Featherguards will stop them."

"Good. You're thinking of the bigger picture," the king sighed out in relief, relaxing and sinking further into the soft mattress. "Anything else?"

Decidius raised his head with pride. "To compensate and keep their mouths shut, we would offer a special discount to the families of the fallen. They'd have more food for a week or two."

"I've taught you well," the king returned a faint smile. "You're not the cleverest of all sons, nor the most obedient, but your confidence is something the others really need. I've finally learnt how to nurture someone correctly, after six failed attempts."

"Congratulations on finally getting it right then, dad. The perfect formula."

"Heh, well thank you. Now, please excuse me for a moment. It's time for my personal afternoon tea."

The prince rolled his eyes. There were some things, Decidius concluded as he walked along familiar halls, that he didn't quite like about his father's mindset. But oh well, his old man was going to die anyway - complaining would be redundant now. These halls would soon be his.

Eliza grunted and limped, clutching an arm with her hand as she inched across a small, unfamiliar hallway. Compared to the other areas she had visited, this one seemed old and out of place with bare, naked suspensions and pillars of cedar. Each step she took was almost dead silent, but the occasional creek would sound from the wooden floorboards. As distant footsteps drew near, the hiding zangoose watched at the corner of her eyes with gritted teeth. She shifted and inched a little to the right, hiding within the shadows that the pillars had created. It was Decidius alright - wings drooped like a robe, his beak up as he walked.

Despite her calm state and composure, one nagging thought had refused to leave her. It kept occurring to her that Decidius had released her after landing a few blows, all seemingly weaker than the ones inflicted on poor Aldric...and she had to know why. Lost in thought, she jolted as a familiar 'twang' struck the other side of the pillar - an arrow lodging into wood as the vibrations rippled against the back of her head. Her surprised squeak echoed perfectly across the hall thanks to its nice acoustics.

"Come out," came a low growl. "I could taste your fear. It's delicious."

Normally, Eliza would had gingerly obliged and acted without a word, but the bizarre nature of Decidius often caught her off guard. Instead, she managed to storm out with legs thumping, hands clenched with her cheeks flushed. "O-oh shush, you! How'd you know I was here?"

The piercing, condescending gaze of the owl made her want to shrivel back into a ball.

"Where else would you go if I dumped you in the middle of the forest?" Decidius raised a brow, legs raised high as he marched past. "There's only two things you could have done - pick up your unconscious friend, or come after me, miss…"

"Eliza," she muttered in embarrassment. That penguin had slipped her mind. "Your deductions skills are pretty neat...but that doesn't really explain how you know i'm behind this particular pillar."

"Oh. Well, your ear was sticking out from the side."

"A-ah," Eliza responded, her spirits reaching rock bottom. She was desperate to change the topic and quickly acted upon it. "I...heard a little bit of that conversation you had."

Decidius didn't look alarmed. "Oh, well then you must be thrilled to know that my coronation won't be too far away from now."

"Totally." Her attempts at avoiding sarcasm had completely failed her, but the owl didn't seem to mind.

"Funny, too," said the prince, pacing back and forth with a wing on his chin. "That penguin of yours thought he could steal the crown from me."

"I-is he actually of royal blood?"

"Maybe. Quite possibly. But not enough - too distant. He's a delusional one, thinking that a penguin could work among us." Decidius turned to meet her gaze. The glint of sadism in his eyes struck fear into Eliza's heart. "Plus, I doubt he'd be fit enough to run the kingdom in his current condition."

"I-I see."

"Say, miss Eliza...why did you fight me? Was it your sense of justice and righteousness, or was it a personal vendetta of some sort?"

Eliza's head spun. Where had it all begun? Many had asked her, but it wasn't a story that she'd tell on a whim - it was one of embarrassment and humiliation, a tale of vengeance. As memories flooded her mind the whole scene played out right before her, just like watching a game of chess. She saw the mess that she had been three years ago - younger, more naive, but a teen with a vision. She had failed in academics, in finding a group of loyal friends...in life, even.

But there was one thing she was destined to do, one fateful event planned by the stars and her ancestors. Legend has it that zangoose and seviper have been rivals since the creation of time and space. Eliza, just like her parents, siblings and grandparents, would one day encounter a seviper and engage in battle. The battle would have their lives on the line, and only one lucky individual would come out alive. Most seviper and zangoose grow up preparing for that one fight for glory.

Yet, it wasn't nearly as tooth-grinding for her. Eliza, the runt of her family, the laughing stock of her species, found herself cornered in the fight. Her enemy - a strong-willed seviper who had stalked the zangoose for days, planning in secret before finally striking her at the outskirts of town. In the theatre of her mind, Eliza saw herself backed against a tree as her destined enemy slithered on, fangs bared.

And just when the snake was about to strike, it happened. He happened. A trembling, whimpering Eliza gasped in horror as an arrow pierced through the skull of the beast, swift and precise. The seviper, frozen with his eyes gaping wide, toppled over without a sound. Though Eliza's fear had paralyzed her, her eyes landed upon a decidueye as he whistled and landed on the dead snake. He gave it a few jabs with his talons, squeezed its flesh as if he's measuring it, then licked his beak with a shrill of excitement.

"What a fine catch! This would be great for snake stew! Delicious."

And Decidius never even caught sight of the poor zangoose. She had been saved, yes, but her only goal in life - the one thing she could strive for when everything else had failed, was taken away in one swift strike. How could one lose the meaning of life in just a second? How could her duty be done by someone else who didn't even acknowledge her presence?

Eliza's life crumbled before her very eyes. She was meant to die. How dare Decidius take away even that from her? So, the only way to redeem herself...was to kill the killer.

And so, Eliza told Decidius everything...and Decidius listened, ultimately ending up with a dumbfounded look on his royal face. "I really said that? Snake stew?"

"As much as I don't want to admit it...yes. T-that was my moment of glory, you big feathered scumbag! I didn't win, I didn't lose...you left me in limbo! My only redemption was to kill him or die!" said Eliza sulkily. A whimper escaped her throat as she turned away, an arm against her eyes. She sobbed and sobbed, the emotions overwhelming her previous fear and embarrassment.

And, to Eliza's surprise, she felt a feathered wing on her left shoulder. Trembling, she looked up and saw an unfamiliar face. She had associated Decidius' face with many things - mockery, belittlement, intimidation...but never had she expected this reaction.

"I…" he began, clearing his throat. A moment of silence ensued, and to Eliza's disappointment, he simply withdrew his wing and crossed his arms with a huff. Turning about, Decidius began walking away. "Let's...have lunch sometime, miss Eliza. On me."

"...What?"

"Lunch. On me."

"...I-I don't follow."

"Snake stew sounds nice?"

Yet, perhaps that was enough for Eliza. Decidius would disagree and argue to save face, but his softened voice had spoken a million words. A small smile found its way onto her lips as she sniffled. "Thanks, jerk. I'll take your word for it."

While Eliza's day had gotten considerably better, the owl would soon face yet another issue on his plate. Only five minutes had passed since his conversation with the zangoose, and he was already confronted by a panicking Featherguard. He was holding a scroll, crumpled up and brutally handled, but hopefully readable.

"Jerry Shortquill, what's the meaning of this?" Decidius demanded, reaching out and slapping the bird in the face. Only then did the Featherguard calm down with deep breaths.

"S-sorry, your majesty," came the fidgety response, "But I bring news from the town of Cloudsmoor. The trading market has been destroyed! People are in panic as some hooligan established a fighting ring at the town center-"

"The whole market? Destroyed? Well, someone's not happy with my system! A fighting ring for what?"

"I-I don't know! He's looking for freedom fighters, and anyone that's with the king and prince are challenged to a duel. Even Simon was defeated!"

"Simon? Skywing?" Decidius' face lit up as he chuckled. "A Skywing, defeated! Oh the humanity!"

"Y-you don't get it, sire! I think he's trying to grab your attention. I think he wants to fight you."

In the distance, a ring of rubble had risen at the town center. Sand blew in the arid autumn air as onlookers watched beyond the wall of burnt planks and stone. A curious young cubone ran over to a closer look, only to scream at the sight of an unconscious, beaten Featherguard lying limp on a pile of fallen challengers. But even they had been shoved to the side of the arena without much care - a reminder of their failures and, perhaps, their bravery against the champion. In the midst of sand and dust in the air, the eye of the storm - a sole, hulking figure stood in the center, fire radiating off its mane. His voice boomed across the town as he made his final declaration.

"I am Leon Amaranth. I have defeated those that defended the royal scum of the earth. Now...bring me your prince!"

Author's Notes:

1. One more chapter to go, and it'll be finished. Thanks for being a part of the journey! R&R, and enjoy!