A/N: Chapter two! Onward to find out what will happen next…
"YOU IMBICLES! Why have the villages of the south not given us the amount of grain we need? What happened to them?" Prince Vincent Prospero the 12th yelled.
The nobles, dukes, barons and knights backed away in the dark hall. Their angry prince seemed to be electrified and had his face red with anger. It did not match the gold and blue crown on his head, nor the green and blue royal clothes he wore. His brown hair was falling out of its green ribbon. His fingers teased his goatee.
"My lord Prospero…the reason why grain and cattle assets have fallen is because the villages…are suffering form the plague. I'm sure with more prodding from the peasants we can get more bounty in the coming weeks…" A bowed advisor said before he backed away from the angry, obviously steaming prince!
"The plague? THE PLAGUE!? I didn't know it was in the south!" He angrily stood up and started pacing the rug before his throne, hands behind his back as he stomped in anger.
This is terrible! All those workers, the food that feeds my table…the money…WHAT IS THIS OUTRAGE!? The prince of his land, the ruler of all Labaverion could not stay the red creeping hand of the plague, even with the useless beak doctors!
"GET THOSE PEASANTS WORKING! Just a few deaths shouldn't make them lazy! And get their taxes too!" He roared.
The stubborn ruler was clearly not listening to reason. Not could the advisors and nobility in the room have enough courage to stand up to him. The prince was angry, and his wrath was to be feared…
Young Prince Victor Prospero, the 13th, stood in the shadows. He watched his father rant and order the impossible. Course, the 14 year old prince thought the same as his father. Both were insatiably greedy, though he the younger thought his father was more stubborn. His father didn't even care about his son's tastes, his want of the bizarre and maddening entertainment. Then his father called him a bratty bastard. And his son called his father a headstrong jackass. Tis a happy family that inherited these halls.
He just got out of a spot of mischief and was missing from the maids. His mother didn't care, she was always whining and drunk. Here in the curtains he got to watch a prince at work. Today, work was yelling at imbeciles while he and his father remained ignorant of how big the threat was…
Then the doors of the main hall opened. A gusty wind blew in, rippling the blue and gold banners in the dimly lit room.
"A messenger to see you sir!" A guard rang out as the doors swung in.
A horrible stench at once filled the hall as a horrible cackling laugh came from the door. Several guards and beak doctors were surrounding a shambling form, a man it appeared, limping and bleeding upon the gold tiles.
All the noblemen gasped at the atrocious sight of the thing coming in. All sensed the taint of the Red Death upon him! Prince Prospero at the throne backed away and stood in front of his seat. The younger prince just looked curiously at the dying madman.
"I have come…for the prince…of fools!" The man hacked out. He fell to his knees on the blue rug of the steps to the throne. His mask was white and red speckled on his face and his hat had already fallen off. The amulet of his office, as he was once a beak doctor under the Prince's orders of foundrey, fell to the floor in a puddle of blood. His jagged black robes dripped with blood and the puddle kept growing. All the members of the court had fled to the walls, watching in disgust. A few countesses fainted.
"What is it you want, doctor?" Prospero cleared his throt and wiped the sweat from his brow. He tried to hide the fear of the plague from his face.
"The God…of Blood…requests…your people's utter destruction! Your days in this house are numbered! The secret bride and the spiteful son…and all that is left of the families of the earth…shall perish…in field of blood…no…mercy…" The young man that was possessed and fevered with the aliment wheezed.
The prince shuddered and watched his men and women. No doubt thy were wondering what the words meant, especially about the words 'secret bride'.
Well, he knew what it meant. Along with his son, who ran out of the curtains and stood by his father in fascination of the dying man.
"See father how he bleeds! Truly a destructive force!" The young prince giggled. His father was too shaken for words. He had never seen a victim of the Red Death.
"Quiet, fool! How dare you speak so naive of bloodshed!" His father growled at his son. Vincent detested his son's ignorance of death and destruction. He was worried he was fascinated with it too much…
With a loud retching gag, the former beak doctor went to his hands and knees, ripped his mask off and started coughing up blood. The guards and the doctors physically grimaced and backed up, some slipping on the blood the man vomited.
It was a most horrible sight to see. The prince shivered and put his arms up as in defense against the non-contagious version of plague that young doctor was filled with. No man brave enough could stand still as the doctors skin seemed to fall off his body. Even the young prince backed away with a look of fright; he yelped and bounced away and ran behind his father who looked at the convulsing dying body on his steps. The prince, even 14 and training to be a warrior was scared and feeling gruesomely sick, as was everyone in the room, at the doctor now dead and pale in a cascading waterfall of blood.
"I b-believe…that perhaps…we need more beak doctors in the south…wouldn't you agree?" The little prince stammered amidst the screams of panic.
His father stood stiff and cold as a statue. He didn't move, only stare with blankness at the dead man.
He stopped clinging to the robe of his father as he watched the dim prince, the highest ruler of his country just simple walk away with a stiff step. The prince was in a state of shock to cold, grim reality.
What the prince didn't know that there was another audience to this event. One who stalked in the walls and was waiting for the cover of night to strike in the bedroom of the prince.
A/N: Uh-oh…OO
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Shoys.