A/N: Hello and welcome to chapter 7. Last time we ended off with Reaver's delicious rant at Barry (I love Jonathan Ross's voice for him xD) and now, we get more into what I have planned with some fun lore dump. I'll try to not make it tedious, I promise...
Dark Desires
Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup.
*Scarlet Flame*
Clad in her favourite black attire, Annabel's head was high as she entered the dining hall. She had woken up early without having to rely on Jasper's constant badgering and decided to attend to today's matters as early as possible. She tucked her skirt under her as she took a seat, giving the platter of food prepared a hopeful sniff. Rich aromas of perfectly cooked meat and fresh produce filled her nose and the princess helped herself, being careful to not let the lacy ruffles trail into the platter.
The princess took a bite out of a shiny red apple, the fruit's skin crunching under her teeth. It was sweet and she looked up as the head chef walked in, bowing. "Your majesty. A pleasure to see you this morning. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"These taste divine," Annabel murmured quietly. "Tell me, Jonathan, has my brother already woken up?"
"Yes," the chef answered promptly. "He said he had urgent business with a foreign delegate from Eastern Samarkand that he needed attending to. I'm quite surprised he didn't ask for your presence, especially since he has long since trusted your judgment on such affairs."
"I see." The princess frowned and took another bite of her apple. Something about this behaviour seemed a little off to her. 'What in the name of Skorm are you playing at, brother? I suspected that you would want to keep me closer so you can watch me. But instead, you're keeping me away. Is this you being paranoid about me turning the representatives from foreign lands against you or is it something else? Either way, it looks like this plan of mine just got a little bit more difficult. Damn you, Logan.'
She finished her fruit and used a provided cloth to wipe any hints of stray juices off of her chin. "I'll be on my way then." 'I don't recall Logan mentioning meeting with anyone from Eastern Samarkand yesterday. There isn't one on the royal schedule and there's no way one could make that journey in such short notice. Dammit, he may have pushed me into a corner here. I don't have any choice but to feign innocence of the situation he's put me in and pretend I'm still loyal to him.'
Annabel left the dining hall behind, walking with quick strides to the combat room. It originally had been a study, but after construction of more rooms and chambers under Sparrow's rule, it had been repurposed into a place for one to practice and improve upon their combat capabilities.
In terms of swordsmanship, she could easily defeat even the best of Logan's private elite guard. However, the king himself was much capable in battle. Untold amounts of enemies both foreign and domestic had fallen to his blade and if Annabel wanted her coup to succeed, she needed to make sure she would not meet her death at the end of Logan's cutlass.
The young woman closed the door to bar unwanted interruptions from any intruders, flipping the lock. Her hair was tucked into a neat bun to prevent it from falling into her eyes and she strode over to one of the many weapon racks lining the room. Swords of various different styles were carefully laid out and instead of choosing a traditional Albion longsword, her eyes found the slightly faded steel of a much more exceptional blade. 'Perfect.'
She picked it up to study it more closely. It was a katana from Eastern Samarkand; the fine swords were made by warrior monks high in the mountains of the country who trained day and night with their weapons. Very few swords could match their craftsmanship; it was of much better quality than any attempts made by Albion's blacksmiths. Try as they might, but they were simply incapable of replicating the weapons regardless of the materials used. 'Light and perfectly balanced. One won't find a better weapon for cutting through flesh with speed and grace.'
She gave the weapon a twirl in her hand, the handle spinning in her fingertips. It was no doubt an exceptional weapon, but still it was not enough. Annabel needed something that would be a symbol for when she took the throne. A weapon of supreme and unstoppable power. If she could somehow augment it and make it even more powerful, she'd be invincible.
Her spare hand sparked with magic and she smiled. Of course, it was so simple. How had she not thought about it earlier? Being a Hero, she could infuse a little bit of her magic into weapons to make them stronger in combat. It had been done before, most recently by her late mother. So in theory, it was feasible for her to do the same. All she had to do now was decide what magic she would imbed into the sword and do it.
She was a master in commanding fire, so it would make the most sense for her to channel the deadly flames into her sword. She closed her eyes and focused her power, letting her magic hum from her body as she poured it into the cold steel. Ribbons of fiery magic swirled around the sword and it came alight, showing her that the infusion process was a success.
With her newly augmented weapon in hand, she would be able to cut a fiery swathe of wrath through her foes. It would make no challenger be able to best her, not even Logan. He too would suffer the fury of her flames, just like the rest of them. 'You are as good as dead, Logan. All I have to do is be patient and wait for the right time to strike. Your head will be rolling on the ground before you know it.'
The fires died down on the sword and she could feel the new power coursing through it. It was so intoxicatingly wonderful, the strength of it almost enough to make her drown in lust. Annabel looked over at one of the test dummies that presumably Walter had set up for today's practice session later on and swung.
A wave of fire leapt out of the blade and incinerated the dummy, reducing it to a pile of ash. The princess smirked triumphantly at the fiery display. This sword was now hers and its named would be both revered and feared by the populace and enemies alike. 'Scarlet Flame.' A fitting name for her tool of destruction.
Annabel plucked up her sword's scabbard and sheathed the blade, keeping its wrath contained for the time being. The light red ruffles on the scabbard dangled and danced as she secured her weapon to her belt, tying the knots to prevent it from slipping. Her training today with Walter would be very interesting to watch. The old soldier would be in awe of her new abilities.
She unlocked the doors to the combat room and cleared her throat to get the attention of the nearest servant. To her delight it was Candace, the one who had told her about Alastair's abusive practices. The young woman looked up from her task of polishing one of the statues by the main staircase and stood to bow her head.
"Your majesty. What can I do for you today?" she asked softly.
Annabel gestured to the smoking pile of ash in the combat room behind her with a lazy flick of her wrist. "Make sure that is properly cleaned up and replaced before Sir Walter comes down. Far easier to avoid complicated questions." There would be no thrill in revealing her newfound power to the old man early. She wanted to see the look of shock and awe on his face when she drew Scarlet Flame from its scabbard.
"Of course, your grace." Candace gave her a smile and dropped her voice to a quiet whisper. "I've...I've heard a few horrible rumours circulating the castle as of yesterday. It appears as though the king is suspecting you of treason!"
"Oh?" Annabel's eyebrows rose in fake curiosity; internally she was laughing with triumph. Reaver had fulfilled his task perfectly, just as she suspected he would. "I have not heard such a rumour. Can you explain further?" 'Just as anticipated. You did exactly what I suspected you would do, Reaver. At least a few good things have come out of today, it seems.'
"A few nobles from Millfields were talking about it earlier this morning," Candace replied. "The king did have a wild look in his eyes when he came from his chambers; I wonder if he's become unfit for duty. After all we can't have a king who accuses those of heinous crimes without sufficient evidence, can we? To suspect you, it's just preposterous! He's gone raving mad!"
"It appears so. I never would have suspected that my brother would fall so far." The princess let out a sigh of fake despair. "After everything I've done for him, it appears as though it matters little. I must say, I am rather offended by such terrible accusations." 'Feign innocence and offence. The more I do that, the more easily I can sway the people towards me. They'll see nothing more than a princess doing her duty and a king who has completely lost his mind.'
If everything went as planned, Logan would actually go mad from his inability to discover her scheme and the people would clamour for her to take his place. She'd get the power she desperately craved and be doing the kingdom a favour in the process. Of course, the final confrontation between them would inevitably come down to swords, but by the time that came around, she would be much stronger than she was at the present.
"I would imagine so," Candace agreed. "You've done so much with your efforts to improve not only our lives inside the castle, but the kingdom as a whole. Between you and me, I think you would make a much better monarch than Logan. He's a bloody tyrant."
Annabel laughed at her outburst and took a step closer to her, tilting the girl's head up with a slender finger. "You best be cautious, dear. We wouldn't want Logan to hear you say that, would we? It would bring great grief to see such a lovely face roll off the headsman's block."
As the princess dragged her finger over Candace's lips, she found it hard to resist capturing them for her own. The girl was most certainly a beautiful prize; she found it hard to believe that no one had attempted to court her before. She was fetching, with those doe-like eyes and sweet innocent personality. Her light purple dress and striped stockings left little to the imagination and the princess chuckled at her blush.
She stepped away and the servant girl was left a blushing and stuttering mess. Her composure had been rattled by the princess's rather forward behaviour and Annabel gave her a lazy wink. "You know, it's not uncommon for a monarch to have more than one lover. Just something to keep in mind, dear." 'Soon. You will be mine, just like the throne will be. And if anyone so much as touches a hair on that pretty little head of yours, I'll kill them.'
The princess left her to her duties and glanced out of one of the ornate windows decorating the main entrance to the castle. Sunlight streamed in through the large coloured panes of glass and she could see a line of people waiting to meet with her brother forming outside. 'A lot of people to meet my brother today. More than usual. Don't tell me it's another one of those imbeciles claiming to represent the city's poor who formed this messy excuse of a mob.'
A pair of elite soldiers stood by the door with their rifles at the ready and the princess snapped her fingers to get their attention. The two men glanced in her direction and dropped to one knee. "Your majesty. Awaiting your orders."
The princess looked at them with a dark smile and dropped her voice to a whisper. "If any of them starts going on some sort of rant, shoot to kill. Start with the ringleaders and continue with the crowd if you deem it necessary." 'With a bit of luck, the people will blame Logan for this, seeing as they don't know the soldiers only listen to me now. Sad to waste some useful pawns, but there is no victory without sacrifice.'
"As you command," the soldier in charge replied, smiling under his metal helmet. They would enjoy this perhaps as much as she would. They knew what would happen to them if they disobeyed and none of them desired to suffer a horrifying death at the hands of her fiery magic.
Annabel walked off, laughing quietly to herself. Oh the joy it would bring her to see the people blame her brother for a vicious and horrible attack on them. The clamouring of her to take the throne would drown out his pathetically weak cries of protest and they'd drag him off it themselves or die trying. Those foolish enough to attempt such a courageous feat would most certainly die to Logan's steel, but that would only make the fires of revolution burn hotter.
The greatest coup in Albion's history was underway and she was at the head of it. However, she would not forget the one who helped set it all into motion. Reaver had done his part extraordinarily well. If he lived through it, his name would go down in history.
It wasn't long before Annabel once again found herself in the castle's library. A few dusty old tomes from various points in Albion's history decorated the bookcases as well as others, but she paid no attention to the once popular works of the author Meredith Sock. His works were once highly sought out due to their incredible popularity, but now they were considered to be utter rubbish. Still, that didn't stop people from indulging in reading them occasionally. The princess herself was a fan of his book, 'Cold Lips', a novel that was both scandalous and delicious. It told the story of Eduarda, the beautiful maid of a wealthy household who ruthlessly slept with every family member to get what she desired. She climbed her way through the service ranks to become the personal aid to Lady Sickly. When Lady Sickly is later found murdered, all fingers pointed at the voluptuous maid, however it was later found out that she had been framed by one of her jealous lovers.
It was most certainly an erotic piece of literature and not one would consider to be very good quality; in fact, after it had been published some seventy years ago, it received very scathing reviews from critics. However that didn't stop it from becoming a runaway hit with the many servants who toiled away behind the scenes of Fairfax Gardens.
Annabel frowned when she saw one book in particular catch her eye. It was shiny and with a golden spine, standing out amongst the dull greys and blacks of more traditional books. 'I don't recall seeing that one before. I have no idea how I could have possibly missed it. It's not like it's subtle.'
Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled it out from the shelf, wiping a bit of dust off of the cover. An ancient symbol that she did not recognize decorated the cover and she tapped it with her forefinger. The book seemed to hum with magical power and she looked around to see if anyone was watching. No prying eyes anywhere as far as she could see and she slowly flipped it open.
The Blade of Fire
In Albion, many wondrous secrets are waiting to be revealed to the world. Some are nothing more than mere speculation, such as the belief that the Archons still live amongst us. But some are not fiction and are proven fact. One such story is the Blade of Fire, from the land of Eastern Samarkand.
Some fifty years before Zuna Daichi's rise to power in the region, East Samarkand was a land of peaceful yet deadly warrior monks who trained night and day honing their craft with their remarkable blades. It was said that each katana they created contained a drop of the user's blood in the forging, as to make it truly the wielder's one. This tradition led to many believing that one could not wield another's sword.
However, one sword has remained constant in this land's history. The sword of fiery wrath, the blade of fire, the one that has the power to burn everything in its path. Scarlet Flame, a terrible weapon said to channel the very rage of the Archons through deadly magic.
No one knows who the one who built the blade was; all records from the land are inconclusive and unreliable due to there being no official documents pertaining to the sword's creation. Some say that it was a wandering Hero who was angry at the destruction of the Temple of Avo. Some, that a necromancer bent on making the country bow to his power. All that is known is that everyone who has taken it up became an unstoppable force, burning all in their path and not stopping until the sword's flames consumed their soul for itself. It cannot be destroyed; indeed, even the hottest flames of the legendary Forge of Light in the eastern mountains seemed to cool when it was placed within.
With the downfall of the Daichi Empire following Zuna's sacrifice in Albion, Scarlet Flame was said to have been lost forever during its final deadly clash with the legendary Daichi katana, the only weapon known to have stood against it and survive to tell the tale. If it were to ever find itself in the wrong hands again, I fear nothing would be able to stop it. The world as we know would come to an end.
Annabel stopped reading and removed her sword's scabbard from her belt, staring at it with wide eyes. She had it in her very hands. The sword that had brought countless death and destruction wherever it went. There was no coincidence as to why she found it lying amongst the other longswords in the combat room. It chose her to be its next master. By pouring her magic into it, she had given it life again, giving it the power it hadn't held in centuries.
'This is that very blade,' she realised. 'I'm holding it. The sword that is the bringer of death and despair. Scarlet Flame is mine.'
Annabel's body started to glow with red Will lines and she slowly drew the katana, the blade coming to life with fire once fully revealed.
'And not even Logan can stop it.'
A/N: *whistles innocently while I just drop a bomb here. Nothing to see here, don't mind me*
A Lovestruck A2#5371