The Legend of Dragoon: Dark Resurrection
Chapter 4
Siri laid huddled against Haven, her head sleeping soundly on his bare chest. She looked peaceful as her nude bosom matched each breath, it took all his strength to keep from stroking her cheek. She was foreign to him, not necessarily because of the difference in species, but because no woman had ever made an impact on him like the woman whom he held at that moment. When he was with her he forgot about the fact that he was orphaned, that he was a knight, that he was royalty, that what they had wouldn't be accepted by most.
Human and wingly cultures had blended together to create a new type of society. Both sides were able to confront the other on their highly destructive natures and how they had affected those around them. But somehow a physical and open relationship between the two species was unheard of and often ended in tragedy. If the love which Haven and Siri shared was an abomination to most, then it must at least be a bridge for others.
With royalty came obligation, and it pained him how he could only choose his bride amongst nobles. Did the late King Albert truly love his wife, or did he only settle for what he could have? There have been past kings who have married for political reasons; but were they truly happy? It has been said that a true king is cheerful when his people are cheerful. Maybe he was thinking too much into it, maybe at the end of the day what mattered was being a good king. Maybe uniting too species which once waged the most epic war in the history of Endiness would in turn unite all.
Haven once again looked at Siri as he took a deep breath through his nostrils. She never once questioned his origin or his ties to the throne. For two years he had brought his scythe in for repairs and tune-ups and not once did they exchange words unless it included a monetary transaction. Then, it happened. He walked in to the shop and it was as if he was looking at her for the first time. In that moment, he wasn't gawking at her, or imagining her clothes slowly curling to the floor, no he stared in to her soul, and likewise she returned his gaze with her golden-orange eyes, drowning him almost. During the days he would train, at nights he would talk with her and make love until the next morning
At the end of the day, his love life was his love life. He would become a great King, great enough where people would have to look past his decisions regarding love. His adoptive father had told him throughout his life to always stay true to one self. Despite some of their rough patches, Haven respected both the king and the man, Carlo II. He wouldn't have to meet up with his father until the next morning. Taking another deep breath, he closed his eyes as sleep finally approached.
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Not very many nobles stayed within the confines of Fort Hoax, but preferred to stay in the noble district of the surrounding city of Lavitz. Carlo preferred to be close to his men while conducting business in the bustling city, even more so if his business was associated with the Knights of Lavitz. He preferred to be a King who stood amongst his troops, to level with them instead of operating from behind the scenes. He never let a man shed a single drop of blood unless he was willing to do so himself, nor did he let politics get in the way of training. His father had taught him that.
He tried not to get close to his son during these visits, occasionally they would speak, but Haven preferred distance since he didn't want his fellow peers to believe he was receiving any special treatment. Even if Carlo wanted to give his son any type of preferential treatment, Haven wouldn't have needed it, for he had watched his son train and heard directly from Commander Trist of his successes in the field. He feared for his only son's life, but all the same he understood the sacrifices each soldier made and how his son wanted to prove that he wasn't just royalty, for he was a man just like any of them. Ascending one of non-royal blood to the throne would add a new voice and perspective to Serdian politics. Most of his subjects had complaints about this, but Carlo didn't care, he was ready to take the risks.
Though Fort Hoax didn't have many accommodations for nobles, they had a room built strictly for the king. Carlo opposed this at first, but the officers in charge of the unit felt bad and urged him to let them do so. Realizing they were just trying to be friendly, he backed off and accepted his gift. It does feel better to drink scotch within my own quarters, I was beginning to grow tired of giving the commoners' heart attacks with every turn. He stood from the desk within his quarters and walked over to the liquor cabinet situated next to the window. Upon opening it, he fetched a crystal bottle with an amber liquid and a small glass. Hearing a knock at the door, he grabbed an extra glass, "Please, enter."
The wooden door of the well-ordained room opened revealing an older gentleman ten years Carlo's senior. His wrinkled and experienced face revealed gray eyes, matching the color of his unkempt hair. His shirt was of a fine white linen, with dark green pants bloused in brown boots made of fine leather. His cloak was the most recognizable, for it was a forest-green color with gold embroidering befitting of a noble. Kneeling before King Carlo II he spoke the words, "Good evening sire."
Carlo set the two glasses and the bottle of scotch-whiskey upon his desk located directly in front of the window. The king walked around his desk, "Magistrate. My friend. Roland. How are you this evening? May I pour you a drink?"
"I must be important to have a king pour me a drink," Roland joked while sitting in a chair facing the desk.
Carlo smiled, "Do not become too conceited my friend, we are still behind closed doors." He lifted the bottle with one hand and began pouring into the glasses. Once filled he set one cup in front of the magistrate before settling in his own desk chair.
Roland brought the drink to his lips. He coughed and gagged as the sheer smell overpowered his senses, "By the creator!"
A loud laugh echoed from Carlo, "I understand, this is a most exquisite brand of scotch."
"Where did you get it your highness?"
"Atmos."
"Atmos?"
"My main reason for my appearance in this city is due to the rebellion forming amongst the northern mountains. The second reason was to meet with the Governor of Atmos to establish good will." Carlo took another sip of his whiskey. Setting his glass on the desk he stood and faced the window, staring at the floating colony with his back toward Roland. "The former Governor of Atmos recently passed on after living for nearly one-thousand years. I was close to the former governor, so I believed now would be the opportune moment to meet his successor. He has much work ahead of him, he is young for a wingly but has an astonishing sense of politics…"
Roland was no longer listening, for he had alterior motives. The king had his back turned toward his subject, there wasn't security in sight besides the two guards stationed in the hallway. It is now or never your highness. Quickly and quietly as possible, Roland reached in to his trousers and withdrew a small glass bottle, small enough to fit inside his closed palm. Crushing the glass tip of it, he reached across the desk and poured its contents in to Carlo's glass. He withdrew his hand back into his pocket, flawless.
"…I am looking forward to learning more about Governor Visus," Carlo finished as he sat back in the chair at his desk.
"I must say your highness, I am looking forward to meeting him as well," Roland commented as he brought his glass back to his lips. "It appeases me of the leaps and bounds our two species have made in order to live in harmony."
"That is true my friend, I could not have said it better myself," Carlo said as he gripped his drink. He lifted the glass and brought it to his mouth the liquor in it nearly grazing his lips. Suddenly he withdrew it and stared at the man in front of him with a slightly puzzled look. "You know…"
Dammit!
"…this calls for a toast," Carlo finished while once again raising his glass. "To ourselves, our families, our comrades, and our country." Carlo finished his glass in one gulp as Roland continued to hold his up in the air.
Roland grinned and whispered quietly, "Now I shall toast to your death."
A look of shock spread across Carlo's features. He began to shake violently, seizing as his eyes rolled back in to his head. Blood in the form of tears bled from his eye sockets while his mouth foamed a scarlet hue as he toppled out of his chair. Roland needed to put on his five-star act, the guards should be bursting in at any minute. The magistrate knocked over his glass and tumbled over the bottle of what was left of the liquor as he rushed toward the king. He knelt before his lord and laid his hands upon him as he lifted his head and screamed for help.
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Haven's eyes shot open as he breathed as heavy as the air around him. Sweat poured from all angles as he sat upwards, staring at the wall across from Siri's bed. His palms were clammy, stinging his eyes as he brought them to his face. Insides churning, he felt as if he wanted to vomit.
Siri sat up and placed her arms around him, "What's wrong my love?"
"I don't know my lady, AHHH!" Haven screamed in pain as a searing fire burned in his skull. He closed his eyes and instantly found himself in the King's Quarters of Indels Castle. His father stood next to a roaring fireplace with his hand on the mantle above it looking as if he were counting the charring bricks within its hearth. Carlo turned with a look so grim it made him shiver in his bones.
Something was familiar about this, Haven had been to this room multiple times so it couldn't have been the environment. No, this was a memory, a memory so vivid it felt as if he was actually there. "My son," Carlo began, "I need you to have a seat."
Haven was too confused to sit down, to even think. "Yes father." What? He didn't say that. He looked around the room and saw himself, the boy from ten years ago. Why couldn't he remember? There was a knock on the door.
"You may enter," Carlo said as he leaned up against the traditional desk which served its purpose to every Serdian King since the formation of the kingdom thousands upon thousands of years ago. Confused, the Haven from the present walked to his father and tried to gain his attention by waving his hand in his face. Carlo didn't respond, he instead leaned against the desk, the Haven from the present couldn't be seen. What in the hell was this?
The door opened as a strange woman walked in the door. She looked young, almost as if she had just entered womanhood. Her platinum hair and her golden eyes gave her away, a wingly. But something was different about her, her presence was something to be awed, how could he not remember? She was ornately dressed like many other winglies, yet she was graceful with each step as she were at one time a dancer of sorts. Jewels ordained her ankles, her navel, her wrists, her ears, and her hair, but one jewel stood out amongst all, a palm-sized orb glimmering a silver-blue as it dangled from her elegant neck.
"Meruvinus Agla," Carlo spoke extending his arms.
The wingly embraced him, "It's been a long time Carlo, I haven't seen you since your family...I'm sorry." She looked over at the younger Haven, and her somber expression turned to a look of delight, "This must be Prince Haven." She kneeled before him and looked into his eyes, "You can call me Meru."
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance Meru."
"You don't have to be so formal with me young prince," Meru joked as she stroked his cheek. The Haven from the present brought his hand up to his face, the same place where she had touched. This moment, this memory, he finally remembered what it was, it was the last testament of Carlo II, for he was...
"Lady Agla, you understand why I have called for your presence this evening," Carlo interrupted his eyes piercing into hers.
"Geez, a buzzkill like Albert," Meru sighed, she laughed and took a seat upon Carlo's bed, "Well let's get this over with then."
"As lively as ever Lady Agla," Carlo finished. He stared at the younger Haven and spoke once again, "You will not remember this unless I am no longer apart of this world." Carlo straightened up and once again stepped toward the fireplace. "Normally, I would encourage my subjects to speak, but in this case I must ask that you stay silent for the remainder of this conversation."
"Over 11,000 years ago, the winglies ruled over the skies while the humans and all of the other species were subjects to their enslavement. The winglies controlled the laws, the use of magic, who was born, even who died, therefore determining who had a place in the afterlife. After much suffering, an escaped slave by the name of Diaz appeared amongst the humans as an envoy of Soa, or so all believed. He spoke of the dragons and prophesized how humans were meant to rule them and how they could give them a means to destroy the winglies and their vast empire."
"Diaz found seven who could wield the powers of these dragons, the dragoons. Each walked a separate path, united together by both the goals of liberty and independence. A bloody war ensued between the two factions resulting in casualties of record numbers known as the Dragon Campaign. The ruler of the winglies, Melbu Frahma, felt it necessary to create his own trump card by dissecting the embryo of the legendary moon that never set, the so-called body of the fabled God of Destruction. He created creatures known as "virage" to annihilate the growing insurrection. Frahma also created two weapons meant directly for killing dragoons and dragons: the dragon buster, and the dragon block staff."
"The final battle was the most brutal of all. Five of the seven dragoons died in this battle: one disappeared after the war to pursue another goal, the other was petrified during a direct confrontation with Melbu Frahma, yet was presumed dead for the longest time. It is fabled that Syuveil, the Jade Dragoon, had a brother which formed this kingdom soon after the Dragon Campaign. After Syuveil's death, his dragoon spirit was lost for the longest time until reclaimed by Emperor Doel during the Serdian War nearly 200 years ago. Originally the spirit recognized Greham, a traitor to Bale who used his newfound power to murder his comrade, and later control the dragon "Feyrbrand" which was used as Sandora's trump card in the same war."
"The stone was claimed for Basil by Lavitz, dear friend of my ancestor King Albert. Sadly, Lavitz was killed by a conspirator behind the Serdian War whom wielded the dragon buster, a wingly named Lloyd. The spirit recognized Albert as its next owner, and from that point was given to every future king of Serdio. What led me to you my son, was not your intelligence, nor was it your strength, it was because of this…"
Carlo withdrew a palm sized orb a deep jade which shined brightly in his hand. "This is a secret only passed down from king, to king, no man, even my closest advisors know about this stone." Taking a breath he handed it to the younger Haven. The stone lost its shine for only a moment, then the warm green light embraced the future King of Serdio as if it had long awaited him. Meru clapped her hands briefly and reached for her own stone. Without removing it from her neck, she placed her palm on it causing it to shine a bright blue.
"What the legend failed to mention," Meru began, "was the fact the stones can recognize humans, winglies, giganto, anyone deserving enough to rule dragons. I was a part of the second generation of dragoons who appeared nearly 11,000 years later. We were the ones who chose to submit to one another while defying the so-called fate of the Virage Embryo, the God of Destruction. My people were dying, and I chose to reveal our existence to the world in order to save my species, through my journeys, I was able to successfully form an alliance with all of mankind."
"What will you do with your power?" Meru questioned, sounding completely different than the kind-hearted and gentle person she was earlier. "You are a defender of the creatures of the Divine Tree, you must embrace your fate."