It was with dread that the captain of the guard approached the king's study, his mustache bristling as he pursed his lips together. It had been difficult enough to request the king's presence so early in the morning; he knew his Majesty barely slept enough without interruptions. How could he say this in a way that wouldn't get him relieved of duty, or worse, thrown in the stocks? There was no excuse, no good news to give, except the fact that no one was seriously injured during the escape. He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose as a headache blossomed between his eyes.
Then he raised his gloved hand to the door and gave a sharp rap of his knuckles. "Enter," he heard the voice. He turned the knob and entered he study, straightening his back as he closed the door behind him. A lamp was lit on the king's desk, the small flame wavering as the air pressure rustled a few papers strewn across the wood surface. King Frederick stood before a map on the wall; it was a detailed geographical layout of Corona. The captain briefly noted a series of markers placed on the map, each a black point that indicated the spread of the mysterious black rocks.
"Your Majesty," the captain bowed low. "Forgive me for this. I wish I had happier news to give."
"I've already heard," the king spoke gravely. He was facing away, making it difficult to see what he was truly feeling. "The boy's escaped." The captain heard him sigh heavily. "I assume he's headed for Old Corona?"
"I've sent scouts ahead," the captain answered confidently. "If he's there, we'll find him."
The king sighed again, and the captain saw his shoulders slump. "What sort of collateral damage do we have?"
"Several guards were injured, but no one's been seriously hurt. There's a breach in the prison where he escaped, but it's been contained to the one cell. There shouldn't be any other mishaps here. But sir, I'm concerned about what he has planned."
King Frederick finally turned, his greying head bowed low to his chest. His face was tight, his eyes peering into empty space as the air between them filled with silence. "Send a message to the princess," he ordered calmly. "This is not a summons. It is merely a precaution, a warning, if you will. She deserves to know, just in case."
The captain felt a pang of disappointment and shame prick his heart. "Your Majesty…You really think we won't be able to catch him?"
The king looked up at him; his eyes softened. "As I said, it is merely a precaution. She should be kept up to date on developments here. She deserves that much, after everything that's happened. If you do apprehend him, then we will follow up with a reassurance. In this way, we will all be prepared."
The captain felt little reassurance, but he nodded his head. "Understood, sir."
"Captain?" The king said firmly. "If you can catch him, do what you can to make sure the boy is unharmed. I could never forgive myself if I let Quirin's son come to harm. That boy is all he has left."
The captain felt the urge to frown at the king's sentimentality. This boy had threatened his life and injured his men. He'd kidnapped the queen to strongarm the princess, and when his efforts were fruitless, he'd threatened the life of his own daughter as well – all treacherous acts he found extremely difficult to set aside in favor of leniency. But he loved his king; hard as it was, he knew he must obey.
"I'll do what I can, your Majesty."
888
A cold wind fluttered through the trees, a whisper of autumn whistling across fallow fields of grain and empty vineyards. It would have been a more serene landscape if it wasn't for the black, sinister formations that had lanced through the earth, shooting up in menacing spikes towards the darkened sky. They mocked Varian as he passed, slumped with fatigue on Rudiger's back. He had lost track of time, but he figured the serum would wear off soon. The breeze was chilling on his damp back, and strands of blue and black flew into his eyes. He shivered and clung closer to Rudiger, trying to keep warm as they climbed the hill overlooking Old Corona.
The sight of his village caused Varian to feel a hundred different emotions at once. He gazed out over the decimated houses, the orchards that had been uprooted, the rubble and broken automatons that lay strewn across the dirt roads he'd once played in as a child. He looked at it all and felt something rise up inside him. It shuddered in his chest, bubbling in his throat. He realized it was laughter. He laughed out loud at the sight of it all, the surreal, unholy display of devastation and emptiness. He laughed until his stomach hurt, and he cringed forward as his laughter turned into tears. He wept openly into Rudiger's neck, hiccupping with grief and pain. Rudiger whined underneath him, the sound slowly coaxing Varian out of his mournful trance.
Varian forced himself to sit upright again; he felt like he might retch, but it wasn't like he had much in him to heave. Prison rations had always been few and pitiful. "Let's get to the tunnel, Rudiger," he mumbled, urging the racoon forward with his heels. They descended down the hill and into the village street; Rudiger picked his footsteps carefully to avoid the black rocks that flanked them on both sides. The sun had started to break over the horizon, red rays stretching across the black, banishing the night away. Varian knew they didn't have much time to stay here.
It didn't take long to find the entrance to the tunnel. It was the same hidden under Varian's supply shed – at least, what was left of it. The sight of his home's remains left Varian feeling empty. It seemed he had already exhausted all emotion for the day. He tried to dismount from Rudiger, and it was about the least graceful thing he'd ever attempted. He fell flat on his back; the impact was mild, but enough to knock all the air out of his lungs. He lay there, stunned, staring up at the brightening sky. The red-lined clouds were moving swiftly, and another chill breeze filled him as he caught his breath. A part of him wanted to curl into a ball and weep some more. Another part wanted to just start screaming. But he knew he couldn't afford to do either, so he dragged himself to his feet. His knees threatened to crumple, his legs shaking as he stumbled towards the wreckage. He started to clear the debris away, his hands trembling as he tossed bricks and hauled shattered posts aside.
A flash of light caught his eye, and he glanced over at Rudiger as the serum finally wore off. As the racoon returned to his normal size, he sneezed and began to clean his face. Varian felt a small drop of gratitude slide down his empty heart. His home and village were destroyed, his father encased in an amber prison, the people he once wished to serve were all gone, and he was wanted for several accounts of high treason – and now with prison escape on the list…but at least he still had Rudiger. He sighed shakily as he hefted one more beam away, shoving it off the hatch that led to the tunnel. It was damaged, but at least he could open it.
His legs were still weak as he descended the ladder, and he nearly fell again. Rudiger followed him, his black feet scuttling down the rungs to the bottom. Varian took the serum from his belt and gave it a little shake, encouraging the bioluminescent reaction. It wasn't very bright, but it was enough to keep him from tripping over his own feet as he made his way down the tunnel and into an old, dark cavern. Varian had once tried to build a boiler down here, among other things. After it and four others had exploded, pieces of shrapnel littered the stony ground. Some pieces of metal were even imbedded in the cavern walls, sticking out in wicked protrusions like the black rocks that had now sprouted through the cold earth.
Varian searched until he found a sheet of fabric, concealing a large, rectangular object. He slid the sheet aside to reveal a trunk with a symbol etched into the lid: a circle with three lines branching from its center, like a cat scratch. Varian unlatched it and opened it to reveal the contents, some of which were his belongings. He set the chimera serum aside and extracted a lantern and a rudimentary flint-and-steel device: one of the first contraptions he'd ever made. He set the steel to the flint and clicked the lantern to life, the oil popping twice as he hung it on one of the pieces of shrapnel on the wall. "That's better," he said to Rudiger as the timid, flickering light flooded their dark corner of the world. "I don't know about you, but I think it's time for something new to wear."
As he'd planned for Corona's royal family to assault his home, Varian had taken certain precautions, preparing for the slim chance that things fell through. One was to take as many of his belongings as possible and hide them in the caverns. Anything that could have been used against him, he either hid away or personally destroyed so that they wouldn't be confiscated by ignorant hands. His bag of tools was one such commodity, among a series of key ingredients he couldn't afford not to have. Changes in clothing were another, a resource he immediately made use of. He checked himself for any signs of hypothermia before donning a new shirt and trousers; they seemed smaller than before, but he barely noticed as he tied on his spare blacksmith's apron and readjusted his pair of goggles. It was the one piece of apparel the guardsmen had allowed him to keep after the siege, and he wasn't about to leave them here. His alchemist's coat was next. This time, he definitely noted that the sleeves were shorter than he remembered; it actually fit him now. He tugged on a pair of black, strapped gloves that had to have once been his father's.
He briefly considered taking the strange helmet, marked with the same symbol as the lid, but he felt it would be more of a hindrance than anything. He had the same attitude about the sword as well; he had very little experience with swordplay, which was really none at all. Taking it would only serve to put himself at risk more than anyone else. He did, however, take his father's hunting bow – something he did, thankfully, know how to use. Quirin may not have spent as much time with his son as Varian would have preferred, but he did at least teach him how to hunt. Varian, of course, would be sure to make his own modifications to it, as well as his own personalized set of arrows, but that would have to wait until he was safely out of the monarchy's reach. He slung his bag over his shoulder and attempted to string the bow; it was difficult, but he managed to loop it tight and slide it over his chest.
He strapped on the quiver before taking the lantern and crossing over to the far side of the cavern. There, he had a shelf filled with various alchemical compounds and ingredients, each clearly labeled with a tag attached to the cork. A few bottles and vials had been knocked over by Rudiger, who wasn't afforded human finesse when retrieving the compounds Varian had needed in prison. Varian felt the racoon climb up his leg, gripping the leather collar of his coat as he looked over Varian's shoulder. Varian knew he couldn't take the entire shelf, so he chose wisely, grabbing only the compounds he wouldn't be able to make on the road. He took what ingredients he would need for a head start and tucked them carefully into his bag, making sure things wouldn't jostle too much in travel.
By the time he was finished, Rudiger was whining with hunger. "I know, buddy. I'm hungry too," Varian admitted. He felt Rudiger paw at his cheek. "There's just one last thing I need to take care of." He crossed over again to a different side of the cavern, his grip firm on the lantern's ring. He reached a pulley system he had rigged up, checking over the mechanism. It was still functional, which he knew he shouldn't have been surprised of. After all, he'd triggered similar devices that had been crafted centuries ago. He gave his racoon a small glance. "Don't worry, Rudiger," he said. "We'll be back soon. But I can't let anyone else down here while we're gone."
With that, he reached for the pulley and gave a swift tug. He stepped back as a loud crack issued from the ceiling, where he'd placed beams to keep a slate slab from breaking off the cavern wall. As the beams gave way, the slab broke off and slid down the rock, slamming into the ground with enough force to nearly shake Varian to his knees. As he'd measured, the rock fell just in place, blocking the entrance to the cavern. It would take an explosive to clear the way; no soldier Varian knew of could walk through solid rock.
Varian latched the lantern to his belt and tucked Rudiger into his arms. "Let's go," he said, running towards the back of the cavern. He navigated his way through a series of tunnels both new and old. The new tunnels he'd excavated himself, decoys to deter anyone who managed to find the hidden entrance. He paused at one tunnel, one that wasn't a decoy. It was a tunnel he told himself to pass, but he found his feet traveling down it anyway. He reached another ladder and listened carefully at the bottom; when he heard nothing, he climbed, skipping a rung in between. The upper hatch was still open from when the princess had infiltrated his home with the king. The memory made him sick to his stomach.
He slowly entered the basement of his home, taking in the sight of the wreckage. He clutched at his gut as he panned around, staring at what had once been his space, his sanctuary. When his eyes finally fell on the amber crystals, his heart began to pound like a war hammer in his chest. For just an instant, he felt a small stray thread of hope tugging at the possibility that his father was somehow free. If it was true, Varian wouldn't even question how.
But his hopes were groundless. His father was still there.
He'd seen him there often enough now, long enough for the sight to last in his mind for years to come. He approached the crystal and reached his hand out to touch it, then stopped himself before he could. His outstretched hand curled into a fist, and it fell back to his side.
"Hey, Dad," he breathed, his gaze boring into the floor. "Listen. I'm going to find the answers to this." He reached into his bag and produced a wrinkled piece of vellum parchment, unfurling it in his hands. It was a map from his father's trunk, one that he'd studied several times now. Several notes and markers were on it, leading to places Varian hadn't even heard of before. He had heard of one location on the map, though: a forest to the south. "The princess can't help," he said bitterly. "Even if she could, she wouldn't now. There's only one thing I haven't tried, one person I haven't asked for help."
Varian wasn't a firm believer of magic. Many had thought his works were arcane instead of alchemic, which meant that anything resembling magic was probably just that: resemblance. But if there was someone out there who could imitate magic as well as he could, then it meant there may be another alchemist out there who could help him. "I wish you could tell me who the Crimson Caster is," he muttered, tapping the name inscribed next to a point on the map. "I wish you'd told me a lot of things. Someday, you will. I'll be back. I swear it. But until then…Haderon Forest is where I'll start."
Then he turned away and crossed back to the ladder, sliding back down into the depths.