CHAPTER 7

A/N – Hello everyone! Happy New Year (I don't remember if I'd said that already, huh…) and yeah, I finally managed to update this – among cooking, house chores, accounting, work and other stuff – because we all need a little bit of magic in our lives, don't we ;) Speaking of which, I like totally kept in mind the result of your votes and fuck yes Alfred will manifest previously undiscovered some magic powers… at some point. So, without further ranting, enjoy today's update!


Light green eyes swept curiously over the buzz of the large city and the gleaming white buildings adorned with flags marking all the victories of King Francis and his Queen. They were now in the capital city of the Third of the White Kingdoms, the very place where all the madness of war had started. The White war – as it was commonly called - had drained the other conquered White and Black kingdoms, but the Third of the White Kingdoms was rich and its people thriving and nowhere was this more visible than in its posh capital.

Arthur pulled the hood of the grey cloak lower on his face as he and the other mage made their way through the crowd, keeping along to the side buildings so as not to impede the numerous aristocrats carried around by slaves in luxurious palanquins. He for one was rather grateful, in moments like this, that the Order had taken him from his home on the continent. Despite everything, being a mage meant to have privileges and above all safety.

"Good ta see someone's havin' a good time," Allistor observed."Others may be farin' badly but 'ere no, ah even heard one sayin' tha tomorrow there'll be a parade with chariots and stuff! Now how much coin do ye reckon would go into tha' sort o'thing? Ah suppose no one's botherin' ta worry about the draught ta come…"

The Green Mage scowled as he trudged on with the cane, shivering in the light clothes because the spring here was colder than he'd expected and weary from all the gloomy thoughts plaguing him lately. And now his cousin's incessant talk was the last thing he needed.

"By the Gods, we are supposed to be inconspicuous! All of your loud ranting isn't really helping with that, you know? I don't give a damn about all this rubbish! Why the hell did you have to tag along, again?" he grumbled.

"Ye know why – ah'm protectin' an' chaperonin' ye, ain't ah? Let's not forget wha' happened the last time ye were out on yer own, mah wee bun, ye ended up on yer back, haven't ye?" the Fire Mage chuckled obnoxiously in reply.

"What do you mean, 'ended on my back'?! I beat the hell out of that ridiculous White Queen! I bloody sent him flying across the chessboard!" the younger sorcerer hissed, trying his best to keep his voice down. He really hoped this wasn't about a certain thing he'd probably never hear the end of…

"Oh, ye know, later on ye did… on a certain someone's bed. Heheheh…"

Arthur's arm shot up and the cane collided with the back of the other's head several times, but his cousin only took the beating increasingly amused. By the Gods, he really was a hopeless idiot!

Rolling his eyes, the sorcerer stopped and looked around at the buildings, looking for a sign that they might have arrived at their destination. He really couldn't go on walking much further like this – it was one of the bad days for his legs – and there was no way his cousin could carry him without drawing at least some attention.

"Here it is, ah reckon," the redhead pointed, indicating an entrance which stood out from the other doors, being painted in a nondescript and totally chaotic mixture of colors. A faded plaque nailed to it stated something confusing about 'the color of dreams' and 'art of fortunetelling'. Oh well, Arthur thought, the man might have been their spy, but he had to make a living. And now all he cared about was to find out what was so important that the spy could not write in a message of sorts or otherwise convey.

"Color o'dreams mah arse. Ah bet tha' Master Galyel is keepin' a brothel in there, just doesn't want ta pay the regular taxes," Allistor commented, pushing the door open and revealing a long, narrow staircase spiraling downwards, underground. "Aye, one might get a good cheap fock if they don't break their neck first on the bloody stairs!"

The green-eyed blond sighed, slightly disgusted by the sweetish aromatic scent drifting from below. This had better be worth this unpleasant visit. Quietly they made their way down the treacherous steps, walking past a glass beads curtain into some surprisingly large living quarters. Galyel Ghok's place of business was sunken in semi-obscurity and a few rays of colored light poured in from outside through two small stained glass windows placed very closed to the ceiling, but otherwise there were no candles, nothing. The two mages looked around at the rich sofas and decorations of the room a bit surprised, because there was no one in sight, until the Fire Mage found a silver bell and shook it.

"Ah told ye-"

But then Arthur heard the swish of a silk curtain and turned abruptly, his eyes falling on the old man who walked in, dragging his feet. A young girl was following closely, carrying some sort of nargile which she laid down on the coffee table next to her master's sofa as the supposed fortuneteller plopped down with a grunt.

"Welcome, young masters," he greeted in a coarse voice, but mustering a smile nevertheless under the rich mustache. "I am honored to have the two of you under my humble roof. Would you like something to drink?" He motioned for the girl and she hurriedly stepped out.

"Why don't you tell us why we're here?" the Green Mage asked, rather impatient.

It suddenly crossed his mind, by seeing how pleased the man was, that maybe the fortunetelling business was going so well because he'd somehow (despite it being clearly forbidden) divulged his affiliation to the Order. Was anyone watching them right now? Had they been lured in some sort of trap? Well, if they had and their man had betrayed them and anyone was to try anything funny, he would simply order Allistor to roast them alive, discretion be damned. The Order of Osmanthus was not to be taken lightly. But Arthur's stomach cringed painfully at the mere thought of it, hoping such drastic measures would not be necessary.

Galyel Ghok treaded his fingers thoughtfully through his rich white beard – a trick of the trade, no doubt, the blond thought. But then he leaned forward, brow furrowed, as if he was in fear of was he was about to say. "You know, I'm a curious man. May be a good or a bad thing, that, depending on the circumstances. That is to say, young masters, I might get in trouble if word gets out that I've opened my mouth about this… very delicate subject."

"Then ye will do well ta keep yer whores' mouths shut, aye?" the Fire Mage replied quickly, with a snort.

The fortuneteller faked a confused look at this and Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. He was rather relieved though, the bastard had not made them come all the way with foul intentions, only to make sure he was paid for his services. Well… "Master Galyel, before you name your price I will want to know if what you've got is actually worth anything. Of course, seeing how you've pledged your undying allegiance to the Order, I'm sure it is…"

The man nodded, albeit visibly disappointed. "Very well. As I was saying, my inborn curiosity had always made me wonder about our lovely little Queen. Because you see, young masters, no one seems to know where he came from. He comes from no known noble family, yet he doesn't have the rough, unpolished traits of a commoner. It's always been as if… he were simply made for royalty. And as I dug up eventually, made he was, if you know my meaning…"

The blond blinked, trying to figure out the meaning behind those words. Made? As in, by means of magic? He had suspected there was something foul at play when it came to King Francis's little Queen, that fragile looking boy who was simply too good at what he was doing – too good at fighting, too good at keeping a huge army in hand. That and the White King not being awfully surprised when Arthur had made an entire army pop up at a snap of his fingers had made the sorcerer suspicious when it came to Francis's acquaintance to magic things. So… made, wasn't he, the precious Queen Matthieu…

"But how? There is no sorcerer powerful enough to accomplish such a task," he said, scowling.

"Was it Ivan Braginski?" Allistor cut in."The bloody rogue sorcerers would do anythin' fer gold!"

But Galyel Ghok only chuckled smugly. "You are wrong, young master. It turned out that our fair King traveled past the Great Sea, all the way to the Dark Lands. And there the Necromancers made him a Queen exactly to the specifications. And in exchange…" he leaned forward even more, his voice reduced to a mere whisper. "…he gave his younger sister Jeanne to the Necromancers. She was a plain, boring little thing so the King figured that she wouldn't have made a good marriage anyway. But the Necromancers like girls and they aren't picky, you know? And then everyone was told that the poor girl died of some fever."

Arthur's stomach cringed again, this time with new worry – maybe the Order had underestimated the ambitious White king after all. The Necromancers… to have dealings with them one had to be either completely mad or really determined. And to think that he'd sold his own sister to those dreadful beings only to fulfill his political ambitions! And then his thoughts flew back to Prince Alfred – where the hell was he wandering now and what if the king's men were to get their hands on him?! Damn it! No, no, no! He couldn't think of this now! The prince would have to see to himself for the time being, Arthur and the other mages had a bigger job to do and the sooner they found a way…

"… and the contract through which the King controls his Queen was sealed into a fancy little jewel, an earring which His Majesty is wearing at all times. "

The green-eyed blond scowled, realising he hadn't been paying full attention and pondering on what he'd just heard. Great.

"So if one was to… say, steal that earring and destroy it, there would be no more contract and Queen Matthieu would be a free man, right?" he wondered, out loud. "Free to disobey his King?"

Galyel Ghok nodded, pleased with himself and sort of amused too. Bastard, he was probably secretly laughing at the problem this would pose and thought the mages would be thwarted in whatever attempt they were going to make. Because surely Galyel Ghok knew that the Order did not favor King Francis. Speaking of which, the green-eyed blond liked to believe that the Order was strong enough to eventually defeat one continental tyrant. But still, it was going to be one hell of a task getting their hands on the respective jewel.

"Very well, then. The Order is grateful for your valuable information, Master Galyel. Allistor, see that our friend is paid."

"Wha- why me?!"

Arthur bit his lip, holding back his amusement at angering his cousin. "But Allistor…" he leaned in, whispering innocently in the redhead's ear. "I've got no money on me and the only thing I could do… well… now you said you wouldn't want me to end up on my back again, would you?"


The letter Advisor Yao had given him was just about the only thing left in his pockets. But at least the weather had gotten better in the last couple of days and the new, unfamiliar but strangely pleasant smell of the sea brought about by a mild breeze made the young prince hopeful. He'd changed his rich clothes for cheaper, nondescript ones, which had been a good decision in more ways than one – keeping him fed and housed along the way and hidden from the watchful eyes of King Francis's men once he'd set foot into the White territory.

So, at last, this was the city of Ragon, the main port of the Ninth of the White Kingdoms, where he was supposed to meet Yao's pirate friend – an unsettling idea if he was to be completely honest. But the glimpse of the large ships docked in the harbor were worth Alfred's awe and, ignoring the grumbling of his empty stomach and the aching of his tired feet, he sped up towards the shore.

The blond made his way down the narrow, rather dirty streets leading down to the quay, hoping to be in luck. After all, this was the place where Captain Kohler would usually dock when he returned from his raids (or so Advisor Wang had said), but it wasn't a given that the prince would find him there now. Maybe he'd have to wait for the man's return a rather long while? Alfred figured he'd then have to take a job at the harbor to make a living until then. And what if the pirate never returned? He would then have to find some other way to reach the Isle of Osmanthus…

The quay was swarming with people loading and unloading the docked ships, while the long row of taverns lining the shore was full of noisy sailors, merchants and whatnot. Alfred's gaze was involuntarily drawn to a violent fight which had started into a side pub, but no one else seemed to mind, it was probably a usual occurrence.

Suddenly, the prince could feel a pair of eyes on the back of his neck and turned abruptly, spotting a young girl perched up on a barrel, eating an apple. Her bright green eyes were shining with hidden mirth and she was smiling at his lost air as she hoped down, tossing the fruit and flipping her rich brown hair over her shoulder. Yet the curious girl was making no move towards him, but was instead busying herself adjusting the pink flower in her hair and the green scarf tied over her head. Alfred glanced at her thoughtfully, then at the man standing beside her with a sullen air – he was a tall, sturdy giant with blond hair and cold blue eyes behind small spectacles, clad in a heavy mail shirt. A long, broad sword hung on his hip on one side, while on the other he had a smaller double-bladed axe. Taking a deep breath, Alfred resolved that merely asking a question to the two of them could not turn out to be that hazardous, and the girl may have known what he was interested in.

"My lady, I was wondering if you could tell me where to find Captain Matthias Kohler?" he asked politely, even with a small bow.

The two perked up instantly at the question, giving him an assessing once-over. "What's it to you, sir?" the brunette replied plainly, eyebrow raised in slight suspicion.

"I have a letter for the Captain, is all. And I am to give it into his hand only. Do you know where I could find him?"

The girl glanced quickly at her companion, but the taller blond only shrugged and murmured something unintelligible under his breath as he pointed with his head towards the row of taverns. "Very well, young sir," the girl conceded at last. "You'll find the captain in there, you can't miss him. But we cannot guarantee that he'll be in a good mood..."

The prince turned warily towards the particular tavern she had indicated, wondering-… well, more like hoping he wouldn't end up caught in a fight of sorts. He was unarmed – a sword would have drawn unwanted attention – and that meant extra care in keeping himself out of trouble. Some ruckus could already be heard from the inside, but the bespectacled blond had not taken two steps that way when the wooden door practically flew out and with it a messy-haired blond in leather garments and a fancy coat lined with red.

"Damn drunkard, you always wreck my place!" a solid, bald man with a slimy apron shouted, stepping on the doorstep with his hands on his hips. "Don't ever dare to come back here, or I'll break your legs!" he yelled, throwing something at the fallen man – an enormous, long-handled axe.

"….m'coin just as good… as everyone else's!" the man slurred, struggling to collect himself off the ground while using the weapon as a propping tool. "Besides… just… 'ad a cup or two!" he added, followed by some very foul swear.

Well, looked like the girl had been right – the captain (indeed it was him, for the two he'd spoken to were looking knowingly in his direction, the girl giggling and the giant shaking his head disapprovingly) was in no mood to be approached for any serious matters. But there was no time to waste, what if his ship was bound to depart soon? Without much thinking, Alfred picked up a bucket filled with clear water and threw it over the man's head.

The wild-haired blond lost his balance and nearly fell again, the small hat he'd just perched on the top of his head knocked off. He glared in the prince's direction while sporting a confused scowl, before scrubbing a hand over his face and blinking, opening his eyes widely.

"W-Who are you?! How… dare you?" the pirate said, grabbing the axe as he took a step in the prince's direction and looking ready to swing it.

But then the green-eyed girl rushed over and grabbed his arm, half supporting him against her slender frame. "Mathias, the man has a letter for you and must deliver it personally. Please, he made it sound like it was important!" she said, holding his chin up in a familiar manner. "Maybe it's news from home?"

The blond swatted her hand away suddenly, making a effort to straighten up. "There is no more home, Elizaveta, I told you! Get a grip on yourself and stop hoping in vain! I told you-" His angry rant stopped short as he seemed to remember Alfred and stepped forward, reaching out. "You! Give me the damned letter, now!"

He snatched the piece of paper from the prince's hand and unfolded it hurriedly. "You, boy, have a lot of balls to dare treat me this way," he muttered, turning his back and walking away while reading and continuing to grumble. "…not getting away with this…" But then, upon going through the contents, his mirth seemed to return unexpectedly.

He motioned for Alfred to follow him as he walked towards one of the ships, his arm draped around the brunette's shoulders. Was that a good sign? Hard to say… The pirate, now supported by the sturdy blond, stopped at the end of the small bridge leading onto the ship and placed his hands on his hips.

"Everyone, gather up please! I have an announcement to make, so drag your asses from whatever fucking hole you've crept into!" he yelled, tapping his foot impatiently.

Seeing how the ship wasn't much, it didn't take long for his men to show – the door to the cabins creaked open and two boys walked out, a shy looking blond with pale blue eyes and a smaller one, with almost white hair and a puffin perched on his shoulder. And no one else. Were these two, the giant and the girl apparently called Elizaveta all of the captain's men? No wonder Yao must have thought he was in need of staff.

"Well, guess what, you!" the captain announced, undeterred by their indifferent stares. "We have just been done a great honor – the Prince Alfred from the Fourth of the Black Kingdoms is here to mop our floor from now on, hahahahahaha!" Saying that, he pushed the bespectacled blond forward rather forcefully. "And, to complete the introductions: this is my sister Elizaveta and this is my crew - who go by the name Berwald, Tino and Emil – an exceptional bunch of schmucks," the drunken blond giggled, stumbling ahead onto the deck. "That being said, you are more than welcome to join us, Your Highness."

To be continued