Thanks to everyone still reading this!
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Chapter Thirty-Four: A Red Sun Rises
"Lance? Lance! What happened to him?"
Someone was screaming. A girl. Through blurred vision, he could make out three faces peering down at him. He couldn't see their features, but he could hear them clearly. He tried to move, but his body refused, paralysed. Was he dead? Perhaps he was in the afterlife now. Maybe he was watching himself die.
"He's alive, but just. We need to cleanse him of the poison otherwise he can't heal." Another voice. A man this time. "We have bezoar. Crush it up and mix it with the water. It's proven to be effective against poison."
He tried to sit upright, but his body refused to move. Every breath hurt. Every muscle ached. What had happened? He tried to recall recent events, but nothing came to mind. All he could focus on was his own ragged breaths. Warmth spread throughout his body. An intense burn. It was as if he had been caught alight on fire, yet there were no flames.
"Lance. You need to drink this." The female again.
He felt something pushing up against his lips. He moved his head to the side, but his head was pulled back. His mouth was forced open, and he tasted something bittersweet. A drink of some sort. Nothing he had tried before. He swallowed it, feeling an odd burn as it travelled down his throat.
"How long will it take?"
"A normal human would take a few days to recover from it completely, but Lance should be able to recover from the worst of it soon, or at least stop the poison from spreading. He should be able to heal then. Wolfsbane poison spreads faster than a wolf can heal."
"Do you have proof of that?"
"No, but it seems he's already starting to recover. His pupils are no longer dilated, and he's stopped breathing so heavily."
The burning sensation remained, but he could feel his heart rate returning to a normal rate. His head stopped throbbing and the pain slowly eased. His vision returned and now he could make out the faces of Lyra, Morty and Samuel Oak peering down at him. He tried to sit up, but his body refused.
"Lance. You were poisoned during the battle," Samuel explained, as Lyra placed a hand on his shoulder, as if to tell him to stay down. "Wolfsbane. Fortunately, Morty was nearby when you collapsed. If he hadn't of been there, you wouldn't be alive."
Ghetsis. Right. The man had coated his weapon with wolfsbane. He remembered the staff plunging into his shoulder. Everything after that moment had faded from his mind. Clearly, the battle had been won otherwise he wouldn't still be alive, but how many had they lost? Who had survived? He wanted answers. Again, he tried to sit upright, but still his body refused.
"You can't leave yet, Lance," Lyra pointed out.
"We need to make sure the bezoar works," Samuel said.
"I thought you already knew," Lance remarked slowly.
"I've only heard stories, but I've never practiced it myself. Your grandfather never wanted a wolf brought back for study purposes – he feared them."
"But you knew wolfsbane worked against wolves," Lance added.
Samuel nodded. "Yes, based on research notes from the book on herbs and plants. It was written by Ramos from the Kalos region. Wolfsbane is a poison as you know. It was used against wolves by farmers to protect their crops and cattle. Bezoars are used to treat poisons, but I wasn't sure if it would work on you."
Perhaps he was blessed by Arceus after all. Any other man would've died. "I can't be wasting time," Lance said, attempting to sit upright once more. This time, he was able to though a shudder of pain ran down his spine. "There is still work to be done."
Samuel shook his head. "I must insist that you stay here should any symptoms arise. You might heal faster than a normal person, but that doesn't mean you are fully healed yet. There could be some side effects from the bezoar. Bezoars can be useful, but they also cause problems if left unchecked."
"I feel fine."
"And yet it took you sometime to sit upright and even then, you still look unwell. This won't heal so quickly, Lance. You were injected with a fatal poison to your kind. Even with your enhanced healing, it'll take time to fully force the poison out. The bezoar only stopped it from spreading. You will remain here where I can watch you."
"There are dead to be buried. My grandfather is in the rubble somewhere. I need to check on Clair too, and I need to see the wolves and my father." Had Clair perished during the battle? Lyra had mentioned the castle keep had been damaged. Had the dead gone underground? If so, then Clair and Siebold would've perished. "I need to see my cousin. Allow me that at least."
"I'll come with him," Lyra said.
"I'm coming as well. Not like there's anything else I can do here," Morty added.
Still many tasks to be completed. Repairing the city. Finding his grandfather in the rubble. Dealing with the prisoners and burying the dead. He also still had to meet his father again. "Lance… You need to rest," Samuel started.
"She's my family, Samuel. I won't rest until I know her fate."
Samuel conceded defeat. "The keep still stands… only just. The ceiling is gone and so are the north and eastern walls. Chuck and a few of the other guards are already searching through the rubble for your grandfather." There was a still a chance Clair was alive. He had to know. She had to be alive. Lance swung his legs over the side of the table and stood up. He almost toppled forwards, but Lyra caught him. The poison might've been cleansed, but he remained weak still. To support his weight, he placed an arm around Lyra's shoulder, while she wrapped an arm around his waist. Morty tagged along behind them as they headed towards the exit.
Once they were outside, Lance saw the aftermath of the battle. There were fallen soldiers everywhere he looked, their blood spilled out across the dirt. He hadn't known many of them, and now he'd never have a chance to. People who had given their lives for a war his grandfather had started. The northern and eastern walls of the castle keep were gone. He could see the throne room. Many other buildings lay in ruin. If anyone had remained in their houses, they would've been crushed to death. It would take years to rebuild the city to its former glory.
The surviving soldiers were already bringing the bodies outside the gates for a mass burial. They would have to be loaded onto trade carts and taken to the graveyard situated a few miles to the north-east. His grandfather feared the dead would return and haunt the people, so he had the graveyard built farther away as he believed spirits couldn't travel far. "Even if we rebuild, this city will never be the same," Lance remarked.
"It's a new start," Lyra replied. "New laws. A new leader."
He sighed. "I don't want to be a king."
"You don't have a choice, Lance. You're the only one who can."
"I know. It's just… I've spent my entire life being a soldier in service of my grandfather. As king, I have other business to attend to in addition to the military. Politics. Economics. Religion. My grandfather managed everything though he sought advice from the council members."
"You don't have to take everything on. Allocate roles. Let them only come to you when they need your approval, but you don't have to fix everything, Lance. You can't do everything."
She was right. It'd be impossible to run every aspect of kingdom life. "You're suggesting equal levels of power for all council members."
"Yes, but I'm sure you can decide on those roles later."
Silence fell. Lance led the way to the fallen castle keep. Many peasants had returned to their homes. Most of them no longer had one to return to. Those who had no homes were welcomed by the fortunate. In times of despair, people had managed to set aside their differences and come together to provide aid.
He walked towards the castle and over the broken wall. Morty and Lyra followed him. It was odd to be setting foot in the castle he had spent his entire life in. All the meetings. The meals. The festivities. Everything. Now it was just ruins. Even if they managed to rebuild the city, the memories would remain. Could he live in the city again knowing what had happened here?
Lance made his way down to the dungeon. The torches were still lit. He grabbed one and held it before him to light the path ahead. A feeling of dread poured through him. The door had been broken through. The dead come down, presumably drawn to the scent of living flesh. He quickened his face and descended the stairs. "Arceus…"
Dead. No. Only two half-eaten corpses remained in the cells, but the bars held firm. The creatures had not broken through, yet both Clair and Siebold had surrendered. A coldness poured through him, his chest tightening, as he looked on. Part of Siebold's arm was pressed up against the cage bars. The man must have allowed himself to die. To bleed to death. Clair had chosen the same fate.
Gone. Permanently gone. Clair's journey had ended by her own hands. Lance slammed a fist into the wall then squeezed his eyes shut. His fault. He should've tried harder. He should've fought harder for her against his grandfather's rules. But he was an obedient grandson. He was as much to blame as his grandfather for Clair's descent. A truth that he didn't want to admit.
"You can't blame yourself, Lance," Lyra said.
He pulled back from the wall. "I know…. But I do. I didn't try hard enough. I never should've allowed that wedding to go ahead. That amulet she became fascinated with. It preyed on her fears. Made her believe her future was bleak. I wasn't even there for her." He turned away to look at Lyra.
"You didn't know."
"But I should've known. Grandfather raised us both. We've always been together." He raked a hand through his hair and sighed. "And now she's gone. It's odd letting that knowledge sink in. I always thought she'd outlive me."
"To what end? The mob?"
He raked a hand through his hair. "The mob would've demanded her death. Clair was… difficult. The people didn't think fondly of her. Clair thought herself above everyone else. All she wanted was to live by her own rules and break tradition." Could Clair have been saved? Or was this part of Arceus's mysterious plan?
"I'm sorry you had to have this happen."
He shook his head. "Don't be. It's not your fault. This is what she wanted. To die on her own terms. A bloody death, but she chose it. Not a death before a mob." He turned to look at her remains again. "I'll give her a proper burial alongside grandfather. It's the least I can do for her. I really am sorry, Clair. Forgive me," he said.
"What now?" Morty said.
Lance turned around. "I will make arrangements for the memorial. The surviving soldiers will bring the dead to the courtyard. Every face will be identified. Every person will have a marked grave. We lost many good people. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten." He rubbed the back of his neck then drew in a deep breath. "I must speak with the wolves."
Lyra arched a brow. "What for?"
"To form an alliance with them as promised."
"I'll come with you," Lyra said. "You're not going alone."
"I guess I'll stay behind and help clean up," Morty said.
Lance looked at him. "I'll talk with you later about what to do with you."
"Of course." Morty turned his back and exited the dungeon.
Lance watched him walk, uncertain. Had he made the right decision? Morty had agreed to help them. But he had been left with little choice. Yet he saved Lance after the battle. It was hard to know what his true motives were, but perhaps all he wanted was to survive.
"I hope I'm not making the wrong decision."
"By letting him out of your sight? If he wanted you dead, he would've let you die."
"Can we trust him? He'll always be a necromancer."
Lyra was silent then, "And you'll always be a wolf… And I'll always be a faerie. We can't change what we are, but we can choose to work together. Your grandfather's fears led to this war. You don't have to follow the same path, Lance."
He sighed. "I know. It's going to take some time for people to accept mages again. This event will make it hard to trust."
"They're going to look to you to lead by example. You are the rightful heir, Lance."
"It's not something I want. A crown of thorns. It's a poisoned chalice."
She placed a hand on his arm. "It doesn't have to be. You have the chance to make things different. There is a lot of rebuilding to do. It'll be difficult at first, but they'll come to accept in time."
"Right," he said with a nod. "I need to speak with my father. I told him to come to the hill with the white tree after the battle was over. He'll be able to find me easily. Very easy to track down your own kind."
"Should I come with you?"
"I want you to be there. I want you to meet him."
She took in a deep breath. "Of course."
"Then let us depart at once."
Silver followed the trail. Blood in greater amounts. Something must've happened. He also noticed a few scraps of clothing on the trail. A fight had broken out. Judging by the looks of it, the human had suffered a bit. He quickened his pace, following the trail of prints, until he reached some stones. Circular pale grey stones had been positioned to look like an arrow and it pointed back towards the campsite. The stones had most likely been placed there by people to point them in the right direction in case they had gotten lost. It made sense. All the trees and bushes here looked the same, but it was also somewhat foolish – it told enemies what direction to go in.
He heard pained gasps up ahead and noticed another bloodied trail. He followed it, venturing deeper into the forest. There were more trees, blocking out most of the sunlight. But even so, the air was still warm and thick. The lack of natural light caused moss to grow on rocks and fallen logs. He continued following the path, stepping over logs and walking around bushes until he found a man leaning against a tree, a left arm wrapped around his stomach. There was a gash on his upper right arm. Silver assumed his stomach had been cut open too.
A few feet away he spotted a large brown bear carcass. The fearsome creature had a sword embedded in its neck. It also had several recent gashes across its body and limbs, evidence the bear had taken a lot of damage in return. Silver turned back to the man. He coughed, blood spilling out over himself. He leaned his head against the tree, his eyes squeezed shut. Silver advanced closer, curious. His eyes widened. "Giovanni."
His father. The man who had sold him into slavery. It had been over ten years since he had last seen him. His father had always been a proud man; he always walked around with shoulders pinned back, and his head held high. But now his shoulders were slumped in defeat. Silver stood before him. His father looked up, his eyes hollow, and his face pale. He didn't have much longer to live. "Boy."
"Even after all these years, you still can't bring yourself to calling me by name," Silver said, a hand resting on his dagger. He could end the man's life now – it would be so easy to cut his throat open. But he resisted the temptation. He wanted to drag the man's life out. Make him suffer for as long as possible. "You always boasted you could defeat anything, and yet you've been bested by a bear. Did your men abandon you at last? Perhaps they finally saw you for what you are – a selfish man with a heart made of black coal."
Giovanni spared a bloody smile. "You escaped."
"Yes."
"…You did me proud, boy."
Silver snorted. "You sold me into slavery for gold. Your own son. Do you know what kept me going? Holding onto the belief that I would someday see you again and have my revenge. You kept me going. I wanted to kill you myself."
"…You despise me."
"You sold me into slavery!" Silver repeated. He pointed his weapon at his father's face, his arm trembling with rage. "I did everything you asked and more! Everything! And you decided you valued coin and power over family. Even though you die today, you'll still die a winner. You robbed me of my childhood. You robbed me of life itself."
"Would you have preferred a life as a thief?"
"I wanted to be with my family. If you thought you were helping me by sending me away, then you were wrong," Silver retorted, glaring. "I had a home. I had a bed. I had food and water. Clean clothes to wear. But I'd give that all up just to be a family. But you didn't want that. Any of it. You're correct. I wanted to be a thief."
Giovanni tried to sit up, but his body had weakened so much, he couldn't no longer lift an arm. All he could do was sit there and wait for the end. "…you've always been obedient. You escaped."
"I earned my freedom. I fought in the Slave Pits. I had to kill other people just to get away. I didn't escape. I won. I'm more skilled than you gave me credit for."
"What you learned here made you stronger. My lessons made you a survivor. Harsh, yes, but effective. You are the result of my teachings. My greatest achievement. If not for me, you would not be alive. You inherit my legacy now." He managed to grin. Even on death's door, the man was still smug. He didn't seem afraid at all.
Silver tightened his jaw. Giovanni was right. He was always right. Despite everything, his father had raised him to be a survivor. The reason he had succeeded. He survived the pits because of Giovanni. This wasn't a victory at all. Just a reminder he would never truly be free of his father's influence. "This is what you wanted all along. You wanted me to become like you."
The man smiled. "And you have. You survived against all odds. You're ruthless. I'll always live inside your mind until you can't take it anymore."
Silver's hand tightened around his blade. He wanted to silence the man right now, but that's what his father would do. Besides. What satisfaction was there to be gained from killing a man who was already close to death? It was just a shame the bear had been the one to bring the man down. "I hate you," he snarled. "I hate everything about you. I hate that you are a part of me. But I'm not going to be like you. I will not become you." He put the dagger away and stepped back.
"…Spoken like a true son of mine."
"You'll die alone and unloved."
The grin faded from Giovanni's face. "You exist because of me."
"And mother. She didn't deserve her fate. I'll live for her. Not for you."
"Boy."
Silver turned his back and walked off.
Jacob was found on the hill of the dead tree, his dark gaze fixated on the fallen city.
Lance approached him. Although they had met twice now, there was still some uncertainty. He didn't know the man as well as he would've liked. "You made it."
"I saw a dragon in the sky when I was travelling through the woods several days ago. I've never seen anything like it before in my life. A dragon. This close to civilization too. I remembered what you told me about the necromancers. I would've come earlier, but you told me stay back until the city was claimed."
"I didn't want to risk you getting caught up in the bloodshed."
"I'm not so easy to kill. Many have tried. And failed."
"I didn't want to risk losing more people I care about." Lance turned his head towards Lyra then back to Jacob. "This is Lyra. A faerie. If not for her help, the battle would've been lost."
Jacob looked her up and down then held out his hand though he seemed suspicious. She accepted his handshake. "A faerie? I haven't heard about a faerie in decades."
"She's here to help," Lance said with a frown. "I trust her with my life."
Jacob released his grip the nodded. "What are your plans now that you have become king?"
"I am not officially sworn in yet. That won't happen for a while and I'd prefer not to have a grand ceremony. I want to speak with the wolves."
"For what reason?"
"My grandfather did not like mages. That distrust and hatred also extended to the werewolves. The werewolves have brought us no harm, and I think they deserve a place in Blackthorn. They don't have to live out in the forest like animals." He looked towards the forest. "We need to live together in harmony… Like we did once before."
"And you think they will listen?"
Lance nods. "I've talked to the leader before. They'll be hesitant at first, but they will be welcomed. He helped me understand what I really was – without Brawley's help, I never would've known, and we wouldn't be standing here having this discussion." He turned back to his father. "I know you don't think Blackthorn is your home, but it is. You don't have to be a Blackthorn to call this city home. You don't have to stay… But I'd like you to be here."
The older man frowned, perplexed. "You want me to stay."
"I spent my life hating you. You're the only family I have left."
"That might be so, but how are people going to accept wolves? Your people have spent years hating our kind, and the mages too."
Lance shook his head. "We have a dungeon in the lowermost chambers of the castle. No one would get hurt. I believe that is what the chains down there are for. Used to hold back mages and any creature with magical blood in their veins. No one can access those chambers without the key that I have so you'd have privacy."
The man's frown remained. "Wolves aren't to be caged. We're meant to roam free. When you are in control, running through the woods is a feeling no human could ever experience. You know what true freedom feels like."
To run wild through the woods and experience the sights and sounds as a wolf. Was it even possible when the transformation only occurred once a month and lasted several hours? How long would that even take. Lance looked at him with a frown. "Must be nice, but how do you manage that? It's not something you'd learn so quickly. Does it get easier?"
Jacob nodded. "Overtime, yes. It's faster. Each full moon brings you one step closer to bringing the wolf and human mind together as one. You learn how to control a wolf's natural instincts. It's not something that can be taught; rather, it's something you learn overtime as with anything else," his father explained. "I was fortunate. I lived alone when I triggered it and kept to myself for years learning how to be better. Eventually, I reached a point I could live with people again and not hurt them. Those men you killed at the camp. They had been my companions for a few years."
Right. He remembered the them. The bandits. "I figured as much. I don't suppose you'll miss their company."
"Not so much. They only stayed because they were scared to wander off alone. I gave them protection… A sense of security I suppose. They knew what I was, but I assured them if they provided me the basics necessities, I would do them no harm." Jacob scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. "We had something in common. They were forced to leave their homes too."
Lance frowned. His father didn't seem convinced yet. He supposed the man would always be suspicious of Blackthorn considering the past. "You'll have that here. A home. I just… I want you to be around. You never wanted to leave before, but you didn't have a choice. I used to hate you for it. I thought if you cared enough, you'd have fought to stay. I understand now why that wasn't possible."
"Perhaps I will. It's been a long time since I have slept on a proper bed."
Lance nodded. "It's a chance to start all over again. We can't take back the past, but we can make up for all those years lost. I'm no longer a child, but you're still my father and I still need you."
"You want a mentor," the man replied, folding his arms across his chest.
"I know you said you can't teach someone how to control a wolf's instincts, but you can help in other ways. You knowmore about wolves than anyone else and you're a trained soldier. You could teach the others." He hoped he didn't sound like he was begging, but he knew he could learn from the man who was forcibly absent for most of his life.
Jacob unfolded his arms and nodded. "I'll stay then. For as long as you need me." He looked around at the destruction then shifted his attention back to Lance. "It's basically a new city now anyway. Blackthorn of the old is gone. But you need to be careful. We'll see the wolves, but we can't guarantee anything."
"It'll be fine. They have nothing to gain if they refuse."
"I hope you are right."
Lance nodded. "May Arceus favour us."
With Jacob's help, it was easy to track down the wolf pack. The wolves weren't trying to hide, as if they wanted to be found. Lance found Brawley in the clearing examining some footprints on the ground. Hearing Lance approach, Brawley climbed to his feet and turned to face him. "I could hear you approaching a few miles away."
Lance counted four other wolves. The pack was much smaller than what he imagined. Was this all that remained of the werewolves? They kept their distance presumably out of distrust. Brawley was the only one willing to converse with him. "The battle has been won though you might've known about it."
"We saw them with our own eyes. They passed through this forest actually as you can see by the prints on the ground," Brawley replied, glancing down at the dirt. "They caused quite the disturbance. I see you brought friends." His eyes shifted to Jacob then Lyra, before returning to Lance.
"This is Jacob. My father. And this is Lyra." Lance paused then said, "She's a faerie."
The wolves exchanged looks, as if they didn't believe him. "A faerie?" a wolf said.
"It cannot be," murmured another.
Brawley raised his hands calling for silence. "I do believe her. Ghetsis would not have fallen to any normal blade. Ghetsis died and was brought by powerful dark magic. You need magic to destroy the undead for magic created them. That is the order of things." The man approached Lyra and bowed respectfully as if she were a queen. "I never thought I'd lay my eyes on a faerie in my lifetime. It is a pleasure to meet you."
"And I you."
Brawley nodded at Jacob then turned to Lance again. "Your victory is worth celebrating, but you must delay."
Frowning, Lance said, "What happened?"
"My scouts have found a disturbance in Indigo Fortress. After the dead were raised, something stirred awake. That fortress has seen no life until recently."
"Indigo Fortress was abandoned over two decades ago."
Eyebrow raised, Lyra said, "What happened there?"
"It's a fortress within the mountains. The commander thought it would make a good military camp because the location granted them sight. They could see their enemies coming across the ocean and the land, but one day an earthquake happened. People couldn't get out of the city and were crushed to death. The place is said to be haunted by the spirits of the dead," Lance explained.
"And no one has set foot there since?"
Lance shook his head. "Adventurers have travelled there, but none have ever returned. My grandfather feared a curse would fall upon his men if they ventured to close to the building, so we never tried to retrieve the bodies."
Brawley nodded. "It's said anyone who dares approach the abandoned fortress is struck down with an illness of the mind. Insanity. But we are not normal men. Such things do not affect our kind."
"You want to explore this place?" Jacob said with a frown.
"It's worth knowing what has caused this disturbance."
Lance thought hard. "What do you think it could be? Ghetsis is dead. The army he raised died with him. The dragon has been defeated too. What else could it be? Some sort of beast that has been awaken?"
Brawley shrugged. "Do you ever wonder what happened to the faerie Henry was friends with?"
"He disappeared without a trace. Some say he died."
"What if he ended up at Indigo Fortress?"
Jacob frowned. "And you think that is the reason behind this disturbance?"
"Anything is possible, right?" Lyra said. "I mean, none of us ever thought the dead would rise and look at what happened. We had to fight an army of the dead."
"The faerie has a point," Brawley replied.
Jacob cleared his throat. "What sort of disturbance are you speaking of? A few tremors in the ground? An earthquake happened there before. Maybe it's happening again."
"I was going to ask if you wanted to come to Blackthorn City to live," Lance said, then gestured towards the trees. "Better than living out here in the wild."
Brawley nodded. "I remember you made this offer earlier, but I can't move to the city knowing there is something else out there. The wildlife is unnerved. I saw a flock of murkrow fly above the forest the other day. They came from the direction of the fortress. Why would they come this far?"
Lyra frowned. "My mother said those birds bring ominous occurrences to those who witness the birds at night." Turning to Lance she said, "It could be a sign that something dangerous awaits us. Something more dangerous than Ghetsis and his army of the dead."
"You're suggesting we should investigate?" Lance said, an eyebrow raised.
Brawley nodded. "It's a good idea. The pack will come with you. Something happened the day Ghetsis came back. A disturbance. We need to know what it was."
"Reaching Indigo Fortress is not an easy task," said one of the wolves. He pushed a stray bang out of his right eye and added, "We have to pass through the mountains. Who knows what dangers lurk there up high?"
"Take your warmest clothing. It will be cold," Brawley said.
Lance sighed. Blackthorn was still vulnerable. The city was recovering, but Brawley raised an important point. They couldn't afford to fight another war. Blackthorn was at its weakest point in decades. If there was something dangerous in the mountains, then it was worth investigating. Edward had never told him the truth about Henry and the faerie. What other secrets were there to be uncovered?
"Right. Then we will see you at the base of Blackthorn mountains at the break of dawn tomorrow. I need to inform the council of my absence, or questions will be asked. I don't need the people to worry more."
"The pack will be there."
.
Dropping to his knees, he squeezed his eyes shut, and pressed his head against the cool surface of the stone. Tears rolled down his pallid cheeks, and onto his trembling hands, as he gripped Benga's cold arm. "You were meant to rule in my place… To rule as King of Unova… but instead I weep before you."
He opened his eyes and climbed to his feet, peering down at the fallen prince. The boy was just short of his twenty-third birthday too, but now he would celebrate in the afterlife. Poisoned. That's what the doctor had said. Someone had killed him. Clamping his jaws firmly, he tightened his hold on his grandson's arm. "I will not rest until I have felled the one who claimed your life. I will raze every town and city to the ground," he hissed.
"…We must think this through carefully, King Alder."
Alder glanced over his shoulder. His advisor, Drayden, stood nearby, his arms behind his back. The man had stood at his side since his birth offering his guidance at every turn. "If your granddaughter had died, would you think differently? You were the one who convinced me to send my grandson to marry the princess of Blackthorn. A prosperous alliance, I believe were your exact words."
"Benga chose her for himself. You brought the paintings of the princesses in the world."
He curled his fingers into fists. "Clair, Cynthia or Diantha. Clair was the one who appealed to him the most. The stories of her fiery nature intrigued him, and Edward Blackthorn agreed the marriage would be benefit them both. I wish she had not been a choice." He gestured to Prince Benga. "Now, he lies here before me, and I will ensure his death will not be in vain."
Drayden did not flinch. "You are no longer a young man, my king."
"The fire in my heart has not died. It burns just as fiercely as it had when I first took the crown." He stretched his right arm towards Drayden and faced his palm upwards. At first, there was nothing, but then a small flicker of flame appeared. "They will pay for taking the life of my grandson, the future heir. The only heir." For he had no other grandsons or sons left to claim the throne. All had perished.
"You want to fight King Edward Blackthorn? The son of the dragonslayer, King Henry?"
Alder pulled away from Benga's body. "I do not fear them."
"Do not be hasty, my king."
Alder stormed towards Drayden. He glared up at the man. "They killed my grandson."
"We cannot be certain."
Alder narrowed his eyes. "Poison was found in his stomach. Colress confirmed it, or do you disagree with the good doctor's findings? I was not aware you were an educated man in the field of medicine." He took a step from the older man, and once more turned to his grandson. "The world was his to rule over. He had so much potential. Now, he'll never have a chance to prove his worth. Tell me again, Drayden. How would you act if Iris had been taken from you?"
"Iris is my only family. I would be angry."
Alder nodded. "Exactly. You understand my grief then." He gestured to the open window, drawing Drayden's attention to the storm clouds above the city. Rain was bucketing down. "Even the heavens weep for the loss of a beautiful child. This is a grim day, Drayden. But the men are prepared to sail across the sea. I will burn them all."
"Your father said the same words if I recall."
Alder held out his other arm and conjured a ball of fire. He gazed into the flame, unblinking. "Burn them all," he murmured. He too remembered those three words. The day the castle was sieged, and the enemy king overthrown. The walls of the fortress still bore the scorch marks from that day.
"And that he did."
He clicked his fingers causing the flames to dissipate. "Edward Blackthorn," he spat as if he had consumed something foul. "I will make you feel pain only a father can feel, this I swear. No parent or grandparent should have to bury their own blood. Give the order to the men. We travel tonight."
Drayden raised an eyebrow. "So soon?"
"Yes," Alder replied tersely.
"Should we not allow for more time?"
Alder shook his head. "The longer we wait, the longer Benga is deprived of justice." He walked over to the window and rested his arms on the windowsill. To the right, the ocean. There were over a hundred ships ready to sail across the blue, each one able to hold fifty armed men. To the left on dry land, a vast army of swordsmen, archers, and golurks. "Ten thousand stand strong. They will fall."
Drayden joined his side. A gasp escaped his throat. "You are prepared."
"Always be ready to ride and sail to war." He pulled away from the window, rubbing off the raindrops from his forehead. "We will sail through the storm. Nothing will stop me."
"What of Prince Benga?"
Alder returned to Benga's side, reaching out a hand, gently caressing his left cheek. "He will be consumed by the flame as per tradition, and his ashes will be placed in the urn amongst the other family members I have lost." He looked down, and lowered his head, pressing his lips against Benga's forehead.
Drayden turned to the door. "I will summon the priests."
"No," Alder said, raising a hand. "I will burn him myself. He is my blood. Step away."
"As you wish," Drayden replied, changing direction, and walking to the farthest corner in the room. He raised his hands before his face as if he were expecting an explosion.
Once his advisor was a safe distance away, Alder stepped back from the altar, and raised both hands. Once more he conjured flames and they swirled in his hands. He thrust his hands forward sending forth flame. Within moments, Benga's body was devoured by searing heat. "I will see you on the other side where paradise awaits."