Hello. I finally got around to updating this. Yay. I was busy with life in general. And with working on Stories in the Ink. Either way, I hope you enjoy. I only own some more OCs that will pop in.
The group left in the inn in the early morn, the rays of the sun gently breaking through the treeline and painting the dirt roads in shades of light and shadow. The mist during the night had dissipated, allowing the mountains within the Bavarian Forest to be seen, their peaks reaching the heavens.
Silas had led Brago by the reigns, the old war horse carrying the young woman and Berend. The brown haired boy yawned, legs twitching from a combination of boredom and from his legs falling asleep. The man had clenched his jaw, teeth grinding before jaw unclenching. His wounds had still caused him pain, but there were other things to be concerned with. Far greater things.
They needed to be somewhere safe.
"I'm hungry." The boy whined, stomach rumbling loudly as if to prove his point.
The knight sighed, "Berend, please...not now." Silas had kept his eyes upon the road, trying to stay alert as he glanced around. The roads were dangerous. They were never safe. But it was difficult to stay alert when one lacked the required amount of sleep and had a cawing younger kin.
Berend frowned, lower lip putting out in a pout, "But I am."
"Shhhh. Try and sleep." Anaya murmured, petting the boy's head gently.
Silence had reigned for a time, nothing but the sound of heavy hooves hitting the dirt and the boy's light snores. The woman had frowned, looking upon the boy before looking at her friend, "What are we to do?"
"Worst case? If we do not reach a village, we will have to settle down in the wild, forage for food. Once we are out of the grasp of you uncle, we start a new life, I suppose."
"Will you not try to regain your honor?" Anaya questioned, curious. Silas had remained quiet before replying.
"No. No, I will not. Taking care of you is the higher priority than restoring my pride."
"I see..." Anaya nodded, falling silent before speaking once more, "Do you notice something? Earlier when we left the tavern, the birds sang a most lovely song. But now I do not hear any songbirds."
"It must be the forest. They say it is cursed." Silas muttered, "Ironic that my namesake is such."
The group had traveled further up the mountain path, a soft mist rolling in. The hackles upon Silas' nape rose, and his hand had instinctively rested upon the hilt of his blade.
"Is something wrong?" The fallen Duchess voiced in concern, high in pitch. The nip in the air had made her flesh become covered in goosebumps, her dress not suitable for such an environment.
"Stay here. At the first shouts of fighting, leave." Silas ordered, Brago staying put, ears twitching as he snorted softly and pawed at the ground.
The knight unsheathed his blade, cautiously looking around before continuing up the path. His nostrils had flared, and he noticed why the birds were not singing. The air was thick with the scent of blood.
Moving around the bend, the young man soon found the source of the stench, bodies littered upon the ground, torn apart and flies buzzing upon their corpses. He would tell they were killed by talons, brutal and sharp, perhaps even the maw of a great predator. The barbaric nature of the killings were further confirmed by the state of the horses, the animals torn apart and appeared to be burned with some sort of acid. No man in his right mind would commit a crime and slay such valuable animals such as horses. But what creature could have done this? Not wolves, nor bear nor wild boar. He dared say no man, either.
It was then he had noticed a woman kneeling among the corpses. At first glance, it appeared as if she were aiding a poor soul, yet on closer inspection, she was desecrating the corpses. Looting and stealing from dead men.
"You, woman. By whose right do you have to strip those men?" Silas questioned, the woman jumping, shooting up.
"Oh!" A soft gasp escapes her throat, the woman youthful, slender and petite, pale face gaunt and black hair spilling over her shoulders, eyes of the ocean blue now white. She had stared, opening her mouth before swiftly closing her. Her attire was ghastly, several leathers and animals skins stitched together along with various bird feathers decorating her rags. She appeared to have a necklace of a bird's skull around her neck.
"Are these your men? I didn't know. You can have them back, if you like." The woman spoke at last, voice soft. Silas stared at her, not sure what to make of that answer.
"No...no, they are not my men." He replied softly, thoughtfully, wondering if she was touched in the head.
"Oh." The girl frowned after several minutes, "So you don't want them back?"
Silas shook his head, flabbergasted, "No, no, I do not want them back nor can I take them back. I-nevermind. What are you doing here, girl? Should you not be home, somewhere safe? A village?"
The young woman looked at the man, brows furrowing in confusion, "No. No, I shouldn't be anywhere else. This is my home. I only go to the villages to trade."
"You...you trade back the fallens' belongings?" Silas questioned, the dark haired girl nodding.
"Yes. Their families are happy, then." She smiled, canines showing. The smile looked off on her, as if it were too large for her face.
"I see. I was not expecting that. Do you know what happened here?" The knight prodded. The girl simply nodded.
"...and whatever did this was a...?" The young man motioned, trying to get something out of her.
"Oh! Oh, I don't know, exactly. But it had wings, and a tail! When I saw the thing flying away, it was already up, up, way high in the sky! When it's nighttime, do you ever try to reach up and grab the moon because it looks like it's right up above your head, but when you reach it's higher up that it looks and no matter how hard you try you can't grab it? That's how the thingy was!" The girl blabbed, her tongue having wagged so fast it was questionable as to whether she even drew breath that whole time. She then took a deep breath and smiled almost dumbly at the man. Obliviously amiable, if...simple minded.
Silas was unsure of what to say, and upon looking at the men and trying to connect the faces, it clicked. These were the men from the tavern, the drunkards. They claimed they were after a dragon. A dragon, of all things-a mere myth! But if what this girl said was true...
"What is your name, if I may ask?" Silas questioned, sheathing his blade, not seeing this girl as a threat.
"Oh, it's Solona." She smiled, eyes shining. He nodded, "Quite the name. I am Silas. Solona, do you think the creature you saw flying away was a dragon?"
Solona had cocked her head to the side, as if confused, "What is a dragon?"
Just as the young woman spoke, the wind wooshed, and a great shadow had blackened out the sun, the ground quaking from a massive weight striking the ground. The knight stared, wide eyed and mouth agape at the creature towering over the simple woman, scales as black as sin and chest as crimson as freshly spilled blood.
Solona looked at the shadow in front of her, for the sun that was once there was gone. Her head had cocked before she turned around to face the creature that was breathing upon her. She blinked as the emerald eyes of the serpent met ocean's blue.
"Oh! Hi, dragon!" The wilder beamed, Silas paling and looking horrified. He would have smacked himself so hard in the forehead that he would have knocked himself out, and he would have been drawing his blade had he not been rushing towards the poor girl to pull her out of harm's way.
Sometimes, Silas hated having a sense of honor. It was going to get him killed one day. In this case, he was sure he was going to die by protecting a girl who tried to hold the heavens in her hands.
Eamon sighed, rubbing his temples. He was enraged, and in a stupor from heavy wine. Exile was not enough. That damned man should be dead-his niece's pet. Allowing that stain upon his bloodline to live with that damned child was unbearable. Worse yet, his younger brother had shown dominance during the sentencing, attacked at his weakness. A weak king was an unworthy king. A weak king bred disloyalty from his subjects. Eamon was not a weak king. And he needed to remind his subjects that any disloyalty would result in death.
First, his brother would be sentenced to death for treason, for whispering foul words from the devil's mouth and hindering his judgement.
William would be dead, but that would not be enough. No, he needed more. He needed more strength. He would hunt down his niece and butcher her like the sow she was. He would humiliate her dishonored champion, disgrace him until death would be so much more merciful. And the boy...the young boy...he would need to be dealt with, killed. He would not risk a potential threat if Carl's nephew was left alive.
Yet if he wanted to be feared, he would not need to keep these killings quiet. He would make them loud, brutal and have them serve as a message. Make the sins and hunts public. There would be no where for them to hide.
Eamon grinned. He needed those who were utmost loyal to him. His eyes and ears to skulk through the harshest territories and stop at nothing in their hunt. And he would leave that to two of his servants.
The Missi Dominici.
His eyes had fallen upon a woman, clad in a black cloak, and hood. Her face was obscured by the dried skull of a wolf placed over her face, serving as a macabre mask. Some flesh had still clung to the snout and jaws, which had naturally jutted out of the shadows of the hood. The woman had awaited her calling, unmoving.
The king had looked toward her, eyes lidded through heavy drink, hand ushering her away slothfully.
"Go. You know what must be done." The man had slurred.
The woman hesitated for the briefest of seconds before sliding out of the room.
Eamon grinned.
The Wolves have been cast asunder.
Whelp, there you have it. Not sure when I will update next. Yay or nay for Solona?
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