Mystic cantered down the short cobblestone path to the gates leading out of the Schezar estate, Celena closing her eyes for a few moments at a time due to the light. Bushes dotted with white blossoms lined each side of the path; patches of grass whipping past the horse's hoofs. Bushes, blossoms - booted feet . . .
"Whoa!" Said Celena, stopping her horse to stare at the strange discovery. She saw a man's legs, wrapped about in leather pants and hard leather boots on his feet. They faced towards the path and she could not see beyond the full, rotund topiaries. It made no matter, for Celena had a pretty good idea who this mysterious person was.
"Denevive!" She called. The disheveled samurai abruptly sat upright, startled. He looked about confusedly, several sticks and leaves having found a home in his long, thick brown hair.
"Huh? Wha - ?" Denevive groaned suddenly, holding his head and slumping over due to the pain that struck him. "Gods! What a headache... Where am I?" He squinted, trying to examine his strange surroundings through the white pain in his head. Looking up he could only see the silhouette of a lady on a horse as the bright morning sun was prominently shining through the trees of the courtyard.
"You're in our courtyard." answered the girl as she hopped off her horse. She looked down at him with a confused expression. "And I can only assume that you couldn't make it back to Palas last night."
"I really wonder what gave you that impression." Denevive attempted to stand, being helped up onto his feet by his shorter companion. He groaned again as he moved about. Celena already started trying to separate the variety of items from his hair.
"You shouldn't be moving about. If your head hurts as much as mine, we should both go inside and rest." She grabbed the reigns of her horse and led both her steed and Denevive back towards the front steps of the manor. He managed just as well, stumbling along side her while keeping a hand to his eyes closed to keep the light away.
"If that's the case, why were you set out to go for a ride? Are you masochistic and like provoking headaches for pleasure?" Denevive quirked a smile towards her. She grinned a bit and stared at the ground.
"Let's just go inside. I'm sure Mallie could fix us some nice tea to settle our aches."
"Will you not be riding into town today, Mistress Celena?" asked a confused Stablekeeper. The young, scruffy boy had been waiting by the porch of the manor to watch his mistress off and now only looked at her with a baffled expression. He was especially boggled when he saw Denevive appear from the bushes but decided to be tactful and keep any thoughts to himself.
"No, at least not yet." answered the girl, handing the reigns to the boy as she passed with Denevive in tow. "Please take Mystic back to her stall until I need her."
The stableboy obediently did as he was told and tugged the horse behind him as he started for the stables. He heaved the heavy wooden door open with one hand while keeping a tight grip on Mystic's reigns and briefly priding himself in his strength before entering.
With the white mare taken care of, and several others awaiting his attention, young Kush continued with his chores just as he always did. He reached for the hoof tools on the plank walls. A strong slim hand grabbed him, pulling him backwards. Before Kush could cry out for help, the same hand, enmeshed in a leather gauntlet covered his mouth.
"Quiet, boy. And I'll spare your life." Said the stranger, holding the boy still. Kush struggled, clawing at the strong arms about him but his efforts were in vain and he was forced to succumb to the man's grip. "There's a good lad. Don't struggle and you won't get hurt. I need some questions answered."
Kush, as soon as he felt the man's grip loosened, rushed for the tools on the wall and grabbed the first sharp object he could. He turned, threatening the cloaked assailant with the hooked end of a hoof pick. Even as the stable boy slashed the tool through the air, the cloaked one did not seem perturbed, lightly stepping away from the attack. This made Kush stop after a few moments, realizing he was not entirely in danger if he cooperated. Still, he held up the tool in defense.
"I promise you," continued the cloaked figure, holding up a nice piece of gold, "it will be worth your while if you agree to assist me." His head was hooded and hid most of his face, that which that only part that could be seen was his mouth turning up into a small grin. Kush lowered his weapon, in awe of the gold that was offered to him. "I'm looking for a young man by the name of Denevive."
Van entered his guest bedchambers, moving about the wardrobe in a flurry and gathering what few clothes he had brought with him for his trip to Asturia. He wanted out. He couldn't stand the place any longer and he had already taken enough time away from his growing kingdom. Since his arrival, everything seemed to have gone wrong. He had come to discuss peace. Instead, his impulsive young samurai accepted a place in a duel on behalf of his king and country. Fanelia had won that duel, but at the cost of his friend's health.
Allen . . . At the thought of his friend's current state, Van had to stop, oblivious to the shirt he clutched tightly in his hands. He had to shut his eyes for a moment as thoughts of the knight's miserable new future whirled in his head. What exactly was this world coming to? The king dead, a knight down and now his samurai missing since yesterday afternoon; It was almost too much. It was also no time to think about such things. He was sure Denevive would turn up eventually, the king's memorial was passed, and Allen - well, he'll just have to recover and go on with life.
That's what I need to do too, Van thought to himself as he once again continued gathering his belongings to prepare his departure, I've got to move on with my life and get out of this blasted country. He threw the shirt to the bed, clasping his hands behind his back as he began pacing the room. How to leave, he thought. He paced and paced and soon found himself near the window, gazing at the spires of Asturia's palace.
Van knew there were still things for him to do there. He sighed, leaning his elbows on the window sill in his bed chambers. "I still have to attend the king's funeral. Eries removed herself from royal succession and with Aston dead, Millerna would take the throne." He leaned lazily on his hands, his cheek pushed against his palm as he stared longingly out into the blue-sky world. "Then I'd have to stay for preparations for her coronation. And then the coronation itself . . ."
Pushing a hand against the glass of the window, it opened and let in a gentle breeze that playfully ruffled the boy-king's raven hair. The air felt fresh against his face and he absently smiled to himself. It was a beautiful day, despite the recent occurrences. Such a nice day and he was trapped in the stuck-up, condensed capital of Asturia. "Being a king really has it's downsides." Van muttered to himself. He was almost eighteen years old. He was a king, no less, and what was the element keeping him there? Van let out a hmph.
Jadik, Van's faithful chief advisor, strode confidently down the marble hall of the palace towards his king's chambers. There was yet another duty for his liege that Jadik must inform him of. He knew Van was feeling restless lately with all the commotion going on in this dreadful city. Kings going crazy, duels to the death, same king dying, people and limbs disappearing and all of it keeping the young king in the heart of the madness. It's no wonder why Van's going slightly off his rocker. Though there were still things to do and it would be hard for the young king. But Van is a good king, thought Jadik as he began to open the door to Van's chambers, and he would never run out on his people.
"My liege!" exclaimed the advisor, witnessing his king half-way out his bedroom window. "What in the gods' names . . ."
"Uh," Van began nervously, frozen as he was poised with his back end towards the brilliant day, "I saw some - birds?"
The kitchen of the Schezar manor was quiet. Neither Celena nor Denevive, seated at the small kitchen table, felt the need to speak. Both sat staring at a steaming cup of raspberry tea, heads throbbing from the hang over. The steam and aroma of the hot tea, however, seemed to slowly calm their aching heads. The smells of the kitchen, which faintly smelled of fresh baked bread from that morning, mixed strangely with the scent of raspberries.
"So, what are you still doing here?" Celena finally decided to ask. She made sure to be almost as quiet as whisper, for moderate to loud noises made her head feel worse. The light streaming through the windows was bad enough. Denevive brought a hand up to his head, slowly massaging his temples and squinting as he answered.
"Last I knew, I was walking back to the city. I must have," he cleared his throat, "passed out."
Celena couldn't find anything more to say. She only hummed and nodded. Taking a spoon from the saucer, she absently began to stir her tea and watched as the action created ripples in the red liquid. She heard Denevive take a sip of his tea before she heard him speak again.
"How's your brother?" he asked softly.
"Still asleep." It was easier that time, thought the girl, to answer about Allen's condition. Perhaps it would get easier over time. There was no doubt that the situation still weighed heavily upon her heart. What Celena didn't know is that Denevive felt very much the same way. Even though he had tried several times to convince himself that it was to defend his own life, he still felt guilty.
"And how are you doing?" he braved.
Celena huffed with a small smile. "I've got a brother missing an arm, an uncertain means of income, and a splitting headache." She took a sip of her tea.
"Uncertain means of income?" They weren't poor, were they? Surely by the looks of where the Schezars lived they were very much well-off at least.
"My brother, Denevive, is a Knight Caeli." She frowned, her heart suddenly sinking, "At least - he was. Gods, what are we going to do?" She leaned an elbow on the table, holding her head in her hand as she stared down into her cup. "We inherited our father's finances, you see. After my mother died, the family's accounts were frozen for a time since my brother was so young. Only eleven, I think. Or twelve, I can't be sure. It's a long story that I'm sure you don't want to get into."
"I won't be going anywhere for a time. I might as well learn more about your history. Learn more about you." He tried to flash her a smile, but mildly groaned at a sudden pain that struck his head. Celena sighed and prepared herself for a lengthy tale.
"My family has had very bad runs of luck in the past. I believe it all started when my father left one day without a word. I don't remember this very much since I was very young, but Allen told me what he remembered of the day. My father was a researcher and historian or something of the like. He documented all sorts of events and history throughout the known world. So it wasn't an unheard of occurrence if he up and traveled great distances. It was just when he didn't come back that mother began to wonder. Then when I . . ."
"He traveled great distances, you say?" interrupted the half-elf. "Perhaps, then, he would know of my people and where to find them."
Celena pursed her lips and tried not to look too annoyed with the interruption. "He would, I suppose. He's dead though. He has been for a long time now." Denevive's gaze lowered as his spirits where disheartened.
"That's saddening to hear, Celena. I'm sorry for your loss."
"I'm not." She scoffed, "Allen told me later that he left because he had married and bore children out of duty to family and wanted to break away from that duty."
"Surely your brother was simply telling you his bitter opinion." Denevive quickly dropped the subject when Celena glared at him. "Uh - Celena? Do you suppose your father might have kept records of some sort? Somewhere?"
The girl thought for a moment, pushing her silvery waves behind a delicate ear. "Well, yes. I believe everything he's ever worked on would be in his study. But," she heaved a small sigh, "I can't let you in there. That's become Allen's personal study now and I would prefer to ask his permission first. Gods only know when that might be." Somewhere upstairs, glass shattered abruptly. The sound was followed by several hurried footsteps, running about on the upstairs floor and finally romping down the stairs.
"Mistress Celena!" called a young, usually timid voice. A red-headed maid pushed through the kitchen doors, panting as she entered. Celena stood quickly, forgetting the tea and Denevive.
"What is it, Jeyla?" she asked.
"Master Allen is awake!"