Chapter 4 "A Home of Ashes and Blood"
The Prince grew a confused look on his face, he looked back to Farah, who had no answer, and he looked back. The elderly man was sweating out his heart, and his eyes were nearly in the back of his head. His beard was covered in it, as if someone took a handful and sprinkled it on there. The man seemed to mutter to himself, his incoherent speech made him appear beside himself. Farah paced back and forth, her arms folded together and her charcoal hair frayed upon her neck and ears.
"Hey, hey snap out of it! Answer, who are 'they'? What's Razgod?"
The man gave no response as he shook his head back and forth. If observed professionally, a Psychologist might deem him mad, and a man of the cloth would deem him possessed.
"What's Razgod?" The Prince repeated with a voice more stern.
The man flickered his eyes to the Prince. He gripped the Prince's neck with frail fingers, "The Country of the Sea", he whispered, before coughing again.
"We have no more time, ask him where this place may be." Farah interrupted, standing in one spot now, rubbing her neck in impatience."
"Please, old man, where…is...Razgod? And what is it?"
"Razgod…lays…sea." The last question remained in the dark.
The Prince grew tired of the cryptic words, he felt the urge to leave the man there on the crumbled steps but he felt a sense of duty that he must save his citizen, and he felt the man was not in control of his mind. But the man had a different idea entirely.
He beseeched the Prince, grabbing him before he could pull himself up. "My Prince, please…put me out of this misery, slit my throat."
"What?" He asked, knowing what the question was, but he, again, felt that the man was not in control, but the pain was.
The old man gave no repeat; all he did was lay back on the steps, broken and sharp below him. He pulled down the collar on his shirt and lifted his head, exposing his neck. The Prince looked on in bewilderment; at first ignoring the request had Farah not given him a look of turn back. The Prince waited a while, weighing the predicament. The man attempted to hand the Prince a jagged knife with a shaky hand, but it fell flat to the ground. Picking the knife up for him, the Prince swiftly put the knife to the elder's throat, then stopping and looking into the man's eyes, which begged for the following events. Farah had walked away, scouting the local area for a more useful survivor or more mysterious enemies. A ship in the distance had succumbed to the flames encompassing it and it drifted to the black of the water. It made such a loud noise that Farah hadn't heard the quick, sympathetic slicing of skin. The Prince was undetected as he came from behind her, she jumped as he came.
"We must go." He blandly said.
"Let's."
The Prince dropped the bloody knife, walking past Farah and looking to the waterfront. Pointing out to one the farthest, he suggested one that wasn't already sunken or on fire. Farah stood still as the Prince moved on. She couldn't bring herself to step foot anywhere off of her home, especially knowing she could not return. How could she return to a home of ashes and blood? Her belongings rested in her bedroom, the only building not burned to the ground. She had half a mind to run back for them. She crossed her arms again and distanced herself from the world, just like that. She turned her head back as if she was shocked by the arrival of a knight in shining armor, looking to her room, as it was the tallest building in the Palace, the second being the Courts right outside. She gasped and pulled her hand back as the Prince grabbed it, he was hurt by her action but he understood her anxiety.
"We must go." He repeated.
Farah only nodded her head in, but hesitant, acceptance.
On the ship, The Prince unhooked the rope that tied it to the wooden harbor post. He then turned the wheel towards the ocean, an ocean murky with ash and the bodies of merchants and children who once skipped rocks. Farah sat on the floor, absentmindedly fiddling with her bow, and the Prince glared out to his kingdom, fallen and fragile. Nothing was accomplished with the interrogation, and that angered him. Almost to the point of losing all control.
A/N The story will have more action in the following chapters, and a much more personal journey that may even change the story to a M-Rated, Angst/Romance story, but not losing its sense of adventure, I just can't click on three genres. And also this chapter would have been longer, I just wanted to make this short to update quickly, but following chapters will be longer, so don't worry. Are you ready for a war against mystery? I sure am. To war!