The king's face was grim as he entered the academy building, paying little attention to its unique blend of architecture nor the modern grandeur of its entrance. Trailed by his imposing retinue of the capital's Guardian and Hierarch alongside two Lucerna Praetorians resplendent in their full plate armour (as well as the significantly less intimidating Yentarians, Jenna and Pasko), the arrival of Marik was almost as far a cry from the gawking students who had entered the building two days previous as one could get.
He nodded at the salutes of the two lightly armed and armoured Lucaelians who met him at the doorway. Each nation had sent a detail of ten soldiers (as per academy regulations) to complement those guards already at the academy alongside the students and to ensure that those students from their own country were kept safe - not that the scions of the Kingdom of Light wouldn't be able to protect themselves, having all survived through the civil war and fought in it.
Apart from the two who had met with the king, the warriors he had sent were all members of Capital's Chosen, an elite regiment that had battled at Marik's side throughout the entirety of the war - some of the best soldiers Lucael had to offer. However, the two stood to attention in front of him now were of the Lucerna Guard, and though the mission that all ten had been given was to ostensibly safeguard all of Lucael's brightest, Moris Vigilia and Eleanour Palladia had been deployed for a very specific reason: to keep his sons out of danger. This was their role above all else, and whilst Marik still had some reservations about sending both of his heirs out of Lucael the Praetorians would give up their lives before any harm came to the princes.
The two were clad in the same more modern gear as the rest of the Capital's Chosen here, and their personal mission had been kept hidden from the academy's officials. They quickly fell into step behind their plated brethren, Eleanour quietly appraising the king on the current situation of the boys. There was little that he did not know already - the Lucerna Guard were there to protect, not to pry into his sons' lives. He had wanted neither to feel like they were being observed and judged beyond that of the expectations set by the Scholaria Magnus.
Of course, with the boys being royalty, that knowledge was omnipresent, but his two sons - especially young Caiellis - could do with having as little pressure as was feasible with their vaunted birthrights. Besides, anything more overt than what the Praetorians had been doing would rouse the suspicions of the academy staff as well as his children, and whilst Marik did trust that Alexander and Caiellis would be safe within the school one could never be too cautious.
Marik had, after much deliberation, decided that his sons, being princes, deserved to know about the state of their kingdom and have a hand in its fate, so had requested their presence from one of the school representatives the second he greeted him. It would be foolish to miss this opportunity for them to experience strained negotiations with another nation first hand, and if his boys were to become capable leaders in the future they would need to learn how to diffuse such a tenuous situation - or the required processes that must be undergone in order to escalate it without angering other factions.
"With respect, my lord," one of them, a nervous-looking Yentarian who quivered beneath the king's stony gaze replied, readjusting his glasses, "Prince Alexander isn't in lessons, as it is the evening. However, Prince Caiellis is currently in the middle of a pitched team battle - an examination of his skills, so to speak. We can teleport him out at any time, but-"
"Then do so," Marik interrupted sternly, the information matching that he had already been given by Eleanour, "And call Alexander."
"My lord ... I don't think your son will take too kindly to being extricated right now," the man virtually pleaded – when he had left the observation gallery, the youngest student of the school was in the midst of his Summoning, and Mr Fram certainly didn't want to be the one to intervene and deprive him of that power. Truth be told, the dark angel terrified him, as did the godlike expression on the boy's face. He had heard rumours of Lucerna power from the few diplomats who had been permitted entrance to the Kingdom of Light, rumours that he had first considered somewhat exaggerated. That assumption had been quickly corrected.
"I will be the judge of that," the king stated, using his authoritarian voice, and strode past the man, forcing him to catch up if he didn't want to be knocked aside by Marik's retinue. "I assume you have some way of allowing me to view him. Take me to it."
"Of course lord, right away lord," Fram babbled, a little too relieved at not having to be the source of the prince's ire. He motioned to the silent and impassive Doctor Argyle who walked calmly next to him, "My lord, Doctor Argyle will be able to take you to the observation gallery. I shall go and fetch your eldest."
The man then scampered away, Guardian Tristram trying to stifle a laugh at the effect Marik was having on the teacher – he himself was ten years younger than the king, but when they had first met he hadn't reacted in such a way. Tristram attributed that to the fact that he had been a rebellious teen at the time, but had been beaten by his father after showing disrespect to the current monarch's two twin sons. He remembered the stern man fondly, hating him at the time he had been apprenticed to the previous Guardian and still feeling antipathy towards him when the war had started. The thirty year old now regretted that, as his parents had both died in the civil war, slaughtered within their family home during one of the many attacks on the capital city.
"Follow me," the expressionless doctor uttered, beginning to step away from the Lucaelian party. When they made to follow him, he turned around, saying: "Only King Marik is permitted access. The rest of you should make your way to the hall. The Welkalite leaders have only just arrived."
The guards bristled at the lack of obeisance shown towards their ruler and made to refuse, but were dissuaded by the wave of a placating hand from Marik. They saluted curtly and left, Jenna utilising one of the data sheets and conversing with Hierarch Tybalt to direct them towards the hall. The doctor and king paced wordlessly towards the observation deck, a large room with many screens showing different areas of the island, and another small space with a metal door adjacent to it.
Marik scanned the footage, and smiled when he saw his son about to cut apart an older boy (he reminded himself that Caiellis was the youngest student in the Scholaria Magnus - hopefully that hadn't affected him detrimentally), a mechanical construct in the room automatically clicking a button and rescuing the adolescent from his impending doom, depositing him back in the academy but in a different section.
"There is no necessity for me to initiate an emergency teleport, so I can have Caiellis transported into the aether-reconstructor to the right of us," Argyle explained, as the youngest Lucerna met up with an Erian girl after her own towering Summoning dissipated into raw Green mana. Marik heard the door opening behind him and swiftly turned around, meeting the face of his eldest.
"Evening, dad," he said, his voice happy at seeing Marik but also coloured with an undertone of seriousness – anything that brought the ruler of Lucael out here would be something important. Alex had been under no illusions, his father definitely wouldn't take the time to come here just to see his children, especially after them only having been there two nights, and when Mr Fram had anxiously briefed him on the precarious situation he knew his suspicions had been proven correct. Alexander was glad to see his father, but was apprehensive about the coming negotiations.
"I assume you are aware of the situation?" Marik questioned, and when Alex nodded he belatedly embraced his eldest, the teenager vaguely awkwardly returning the hug, unused to the open affection from his father after nine years without it. The doctor ignored the Lucernan prince and moved through the doorway into the single-teleporter chamber, instantly shutting the door when Marik was about to follow. The king shared an amused glance with his son, who then turned to the viewing screens.
"The squirt isn't going to be happy about this," Alex muttered as he watched Caiellis look at his glowing hands in confusion, incredulous anger marring his once triumphant pale features.
"His royal duties are more important than his own feelings," Marik shot back, as he heard an energised detonation of sound that must have heralded his son's re-materialisation. They could hear an angry voice demanding to be informed of what was going on, and Marik walked towards the steel door as it swished open.
"Good evening, son," he uttered at the furious face of his youngest, who instantaneously calmed in the presence of his father – he understood that this was why he had been called out, it must have been extremely significant to requisite the king of Lucael's presence here. Alex waved at the younger boy, who gave him a smile and turned soberly back to his father.
"Dad, what is going on?" he inquired earnestly, and Marik was pleasantly surprised. He expected his youngest son to be furious with him for teleporting him out of the battleground, but Caiellis had pushed his emotions to the back of his mind and focussed intently on the current situation.
"Caiellis, I requested you and your brother's presence because I am about to enter negotiations with the Welkalite emissaries and leaders," he explained, his voice clipped and tone clinical. Caiellis nodded quickly and Marik continued, "Bandits and raiders from Welkas have been attacking supply caravans on the borders, but instead of declaring outright war the best course of action is to engage in diplomacy. I want you and your brother to learn from this experience Come. We go to the main hall."
"You ok, little bro?" Alex asked when their father turned around, concern etching across his face when he noticed Caiellis had zoned out, eyes losing their intent gleam and becoming unfocussed. Marik, who had already set off, turned around to see his eldest gently tilting Cai's head upwards so that he could look into the 4'11'' boy's eyes and repeating his question.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired," he played down the weariness he felt, but both Marik and Alexander could clearly see it. A pang of sympathy went out from the king to his youngest – the small boy was battered and quite clearly exhausted. Maybe dragging him straight out of a battle and into a complex and tenuous political situation wasn't the best plan; Marik pushed the thoughts out of his mind, both his boys needed to know how to rule a kingdom.
"If you say so, squirt. Just tell us if you don't feel well," Alex patted his brother on the back and led him forwards to their waiting father. Marik was glad they had developed such a strong brotherly bond – he had never felt particularly close to Johnias, although his twin had often acted like they were best friends. Here he could see that Alex's love was reciprocated, which brought a sense of warmth to his heart, even though he knew the real reason for their intimacy was the years of hardship they had suffered through because of their traitorous uncle.
The small family made its way towards the hall, through a route of out-of-bounds zones that had been set up to prevent students from seeing the king of Lucael, and Marik thought about starting a conversation, but didn't want to break the silence so continued walking instead. He contemplated the coming meeting – the king certainly didn't want to throw his people into another war, so would have to be careful about what he was going to say. When they reached the mahogany double doors that signalled access to the main hall, Caiellis spoke softly.
"Dad, I have a bad feeling about this," he said worriedly, and Marik turned around to face him.
"Care to elaborate?" he accidentally snapped, not realising how tense he was becoming about the imminent conference.
"I don't know," the boy replied unhelpfully, and Marik sighed. "I just feel like it is a mistake to go in there. I have a bad feeling about this, and a headache." he repeated.
"And should I let your bad feelings get in the way of Lucael's safety?" the man questioned sternly, moving towards the boy, to which his youngest shrunk back nervously.
"Dad," Alexander interjected, "Maybe you should-"
"Do what, exactly? Consign my kingdom to another war just because a child couldn't control his sad emotions or keep them to himself? Caiellis, if you don't want to go in, be my guest. But it is my duty as a king to try and prevent war," he stated calmly, reigning in his caustic tone from earlier and making sure that he didn't look threatening to his son that was a total of around twenty inches smaller than his six foot seven frame. Nevertheless, he couldn't let "bad feelings" get in the way of his people's safety. "So are you coming, or not?"
His youngest nodded dutifully, all the obedient son in that moment, although his eyes were still clouded over with anxiousness. Marik patted him reassuringly on the shoulder and composed himself, removing the compassionate expression and replacing it with one of steely determination. He was one of the most influential human beings on the planet, and forced himself to look like it, adjusting his crown and cape and dramatically pushed the doors open.
The room was set out with a large table in the centre of it, a holographic representation of Magnus-Primae located in the middle. At one side, white banners bearing the Lucernan crest indicated where the king and princes should sit, next to the Hierarch and Guardian of Capitalia Lux. Jenna was stood off to the side awkwardly, intently watching the humans sat at the other side of the hall.
The opposite end was framed by crimson flags showing the symbol of a mailed fist, bloody with the viscera of the slain, held triumphantly in the air. A quartet of Welkalite representatives lounged in comfortable seats, with masked guards standing to attention behind them. Marik scanned the exotically adorned four, who smirked arrogantly back, surprised and more than a little annoyed that Jarred Redhand had not deigned to appear to the gathering, and had instead sent obviously important members of whatever ruling body the Empire of Passion obeyed after the dissolution of the Old Empire.
Caiellis's eyes brushed over them, sensing that they were the causes of his discomfort, and as he glanced at a man swathed by his clothes – he was covered in gaudy fabrics that sent aching pains through his head and the man grinned sadistically at him, exposing filed teeth that glinted in the sapphire light of the conjured image. Alexander glared at the man and the Welkalite turned away from his little brother, Alex and Cai then taking their seats either side of their father's.
A man clad in grey robes with knowing eyes stood up from a seat at the bisector between the two factions and cleared his throat. Both boys recognised the headteacher Hadan Colae, and the man winked understandingly at Caiellis, as if sensing his agitation.
"As both parties have arrived, the discussion will now begin. You should probably start by introducing yourselves," the unaligned headmaster suggested, and Marik took that as a cue to stand back up.
"I am Marik Ensis Lucerna, king of Lucael, and quite frankly, I couldn't care less about who you are or what your station is. All I need to know is that you are lackeys of Redhand," the eldest Lucerna raised his voice to be like a royal pronouncement, booming across the room and capturing the undivided attention of its occupants. He was determined to take control of this discussion from the outset and force the opposition to acquiesce to his demands. "The Welkas Empire stands accused of repeatedly assaulting traders, civilians and border patrols of Lucael. What is your excuse for this? I need a good one to prevent from ordering the utter annihilation of your precious empire."
Marik's dramatic and threatening words had their intended effect, and the king concealed a smile as the haughty Welkalites physical rocked back as if they had been slapped, smugness dissolving in the face of the king's wrath. One of them, a muscled brute clothed in interlocking brass metal plates that left much of his tanned and scarred skin bare and masked by a gladiator's helm, got to his feet, a huge battle-axe slung over his back.
"I am Arendus Draal, Master of Violence," he announced belligerently, wilfully ignoring the Lucaelian's earlier proclamation, his voice deep, harsh and brutal. "I thought we had established that the attacks were done by bandits. If you cannot defend against petty raiders, that is none of the empire's concern."
Marik raised an amused eyebrow at the barbarian's audacity, thinking that politics were no place for gladiators – he had heard of the brutish bloodsport arenas the Order of Violence prided themselves on. What a waste of time. Glory should be earned in battle and through one's own achievements, not by slaying captive creatures in an orgy of pointless bloodshed. However, the Welkalites had always had a penchant for over-indulgence.
"Well then, Arendus, it will no come as no surprise to you that we have eliminated these "bandits" of yours. They were garbed in the regalia of Welkas troops, although they could easily be renegade. Nevertheless, so long as your civilisation poses a direct threat to mine it will be destroyed. Simple as that," Marik stated plainly, "So therefore, I think you should conclude that these raiders are your problems also, if you cannot control your troops then maybe a change of leadership needs to occur."
Caiellis got up from his seat. Immense pain pounded in his head, burning torment that increased in intensity every second of being in the room. He could sense the eyes of everyone boring into him as he silently made his way towards the door on the left, which led to an outside balcony. Cai could feel his cheeks lighting up ashamedly under the joined gazes of both parties – his father must have been disappointed, but the boy couldn't bear being in room anymore. He wouldn't have been able to contribute to the debate anyway, he couldn't think clearly past the burning sensation.
Alexander made to get up and follow him, concern for his baby brother evident in his bright blue eyes, but Tristram placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, keeping the seventeen year old still. Marik would already be annoyed enough at the departure of one of his sons. Unbeknownst to the Lucaelians, a couple of shadows detached themselves from the walls and slipped out of the room behind the youngest prince.
"Aww, could the child not stand the arguing? Did we upset him? How adorable" the Welkalite attired in garish clothing who had locked eyes with the boy sneered, receiving a fiery glare from the king, older son, Hierarch and Guardian. He had definitely hit a nerve there. He also rose, "I am Tradax Yulica, Master of Rapture and what you are saying, my liege," he spat mockingly, "smacks of intimidation and self-aggrandizement. I thought those qualities were frowned upon in the Kingdom of Light."
"The king is not threatening you. He is merely stating facts," Tybalt replied coolly, intervening before Marik, already irritated by Caiellis, released his anger.
"We have tolerated your impertinence for many years now, and if you refuse to stop then we will have no choice but to force you to."
.*.*.*.
Caiellis raised his face to the pouring rain, feeling the refreshingly cold water wash away some of the pain. The headache receded to tolerable levels, and he sighed wearily. He hadn't wanted to embarrass his father, he should have taken the man's offer earlier and stayed out of the room. However, the notion that they were all in terrible danger refused to be erased from his mind, and no matter how hard Cai tried he couldn't shake the premonition of onrushing peril.
The boy analysed the precarious situation between Lucael and Welkas and what that would mean for each nation. The Kingdom of Light had only just recovered from their own internal civil war, although now they were arguably even stronger than before – even so, Johnias was still loose in the darkness with his closest treacherous compatriots, and the distraction of another conflict may be just what he needed to further his own plans.
He wanted to talk with Orzhova; maybe she could tell him about the foreboding he felt. Come to think of it, there had been something else niggling at the back of his mind since he had Summoned her. Cai let himself sink into his Mind Realm, his body remaining standing out in the freezing rain. He found himself in the cathedral he had now come to associate with the Angel of the Black Sun, said angel smiling pleasantly at him when he fully entered.
"Hello again, Caiellis. Do you need to talk about something?" she asked, the melancholy veil over her eyes quickly replaced with one of happiness. Cai felt a moment of empathy for the angel – according to Akroma, Orzhova had been shunned by the Sisterhood after her actions in Xarius's reign; it must be an incredibly lonely and isolated existence for the dark angel. She always seemed thrilled to see him, to have someone to talk to after the years of being trapped in the Mind Realm when he couldn't pass her trial.
"Yeah, I want to ask you about two things. First, earlier today you said that my Black mana was inadequate. I know that I'm more comfortable with White mana, having utilised it my entire life, but I followed your advice to the letter," he explained, slight exasperation colouring his soft voice, "I never focussed on those feelings before. I forced myself to remember every excruciating detail of that horrible night, and yet my Black mana is not good enough?"
"Caiellis, calm down," she gently admonished, "I know it must have been painful for you, I could feel it myself – just like what I felt on the night your mother died."
"However, all your pain, all your hatred, who is it directed at?" Orzhova asked.
"Johnias," Cai muttered darkly, disgust blooming in his mind at the thought of his uncle, the one that had ripped his young life apart and plunged the four year old him into a desperate war between darkness and light.
"Exactly. Johnias the Arch-Heretic," she continued, "Perpetrator of one of the largest cataclysms in Lucaelian history. You have not seen him since before the war, have you?"
"No," Caiellis murmured, starting to see what his angel was getting at but willing to let her finish her explanations before jumping to conclusions.
"Precisely. Your last memory of Johnias, the focal point of your hatred in the generation of Black mana, is not of a murderous betrayer, nor of a merciless butcher. The last time you saw him, he was just an affectionate uncle doting on his favourite nephew."
The boy let Orzhova's words sink in, playing them around in his mind and considering the implications of it – he remember his uncle's face, identical to his father's but filled with warmth that he now knew to be false instead of parental pride hidden under a veneer of duty to the kingdom. That had been a month before he betrayed, and the young Caiellis couldn't believe that the loving man had gone against his father. That had been prior to Emili's murder, and all thoughts of fondness towards Johnias had been converted to pure and unfettered hatred in Cai's mind, emotions that remained to this day but had increased in potency every day of the civil war. Nonetheless, it seemed like Caiellis's subconscious still regarded his uncle based on his last meeting with the man.
The angel's onyx eyes narrowed and her porcelain face became suspicious before Cai had a chance to inquire about his present emotions.
"Get out. Quick!" Orzhova commanded, and the boy felt himself jolt roughly out of the Mind Realm, blearily opening his eyes to the pouring rain. He shook his heard, cursing inwardly when he detected the presence of two intruders to the balcony. He quietly activated the Lens of Guilt, ink-like darkness painting the world in black, clearly revealing the intent of the ambushers behind as blotches of pulsating scarlet. Caiellis waited until they were within striking distance, and then sprung into spontaneous action.
The prince spun around, drawing the Sword of Glass and activating it in an actinic flash, the rain sizzling when it touched the crystal blade. The first assailant, smaller than the second and lithe, gasped in shock when the weapon pierced through her shadowy disguise. Claret liquid spilled from her stomach, the wound quickly cauterising because of the intense magical heat of Cai's blade. She pulled the sword deeper, ignoring her flesh burning as her hands touched the holy crystal, and Caiellis could see her grinning insanely through the immense agony.
A moment of indecision cost the prince dearly, as he wrestled for control of the sword for a second and was distracted by the spray of vital fluids. Caiellis hated violence and death, although it was a necessity and liked to think that he wouldn't hesitate to kill if the offender threatened him or his loved ones, but was more than a little disturbed by the woman's moans of pleasure as the blade stuck further into her. He twisted it to try and break free when the second assailant loomed behind him, a muscled figure that swung down at him.
Caiellis managed to yank the Sword of Glass out of the now-dead female assassin, who slumped to the floor with a huge cavity where her stomach once was, twirling around just as a huge hand encircled his lower forearm. The prince yelped in distress as cold metal was roughly pressed onto the thin wrist, the sinister black steel shimmering with malignant intent in the Lens of Guilt. He gasped as the freezing thing cut him off from his supply of magical energy, the sudden hollowing sensation making the boy want to vomit. Cai felt incredibly weak and tried to pull away from the man, who grunted and yanked him back, pulling the prince's artefact weapon away from him and slinging it into the same holster of a huge axe.
The two wrestled for a split second before the prince was overpowered, fragile without his mana backing him up. Cai tried to conjure up some to fight off his attacker, but it was like looking into an empty void. Panic pulsed through his mind – was he going to die here?
"Alex..." he choked as the man wrapped a bulging arm around his throat, cutting off the flow of air and starving the cry for help. He feebly pulled at the constricting limb, but it barely moved. Normally Caiellis wasn't that bothered about his lack of physical strength, figuring that he would gain it as he went further into puberty, but now sorely wished he had devoted more time to weight-training and Tristram's other sessions. He felt himself being hauled into another room and suddenly understood the direness of his situation – the prince would be used as a bargaining tool. Cai thrashed and desperately kicked back, and the man increased the pressure of his grip, as black spots appeared in the boy's vision. Fatigue and the disconcerting and abrupt lack of mana weakened him severely, but it didn't stop him from trying as he was carried away from the balcony.
.*.*.*.
Tradax shut his eyes for a second and breathed deeply – he seemed to be the leader of the Welkalite party, as only him and Arendus Draal had contributed so far, and the latter seemed to show grudging fealty to the Master of Rapture. The man smiled sadistically at Marik, revealing his sharpened fangs. The king glared back as the Welkalite began to laugh, a sibilant, hissing noise that made the middle Lucerna want to go and punch him.
"What is so funny?" Alexander snarled, and Tradax ceased his manic giggling, locking eyes with the eldest prince.
"Oh, the main event is about to start!" he squealed in ecstatic joy, and the Lucaelians and Yentarians glanced around suspiciously as the shadows began to deepen.
"This is-" Tristram exclaimed as Marik interrupted him coldly, his eyes blazing with fury, "Yes. Demon-magic."
"How perceptive of you, my lord!" Tradax cried, and the king gathered up his White mana and immediately Summoned Akroma, the pretence of trying to find peace with Welkas utterly gone now that he knew they courted with Sancturia demons. The angel growled when she realised why she had been Summoned, drawing her enormous sword and about to charge at Tradax when the man waved his finger.
"Ah-ah. I don't think you should do that," he shook his head mockingly when the Angel of Wrath didn't stop her attack, "Especially not when you see Caiellis."
"What have you done to him?" Marik thundered, Akroma sensing the hidden command to stop her attack. Bruna, Athela and Aurelia had also entered the room, the huge angels aloft in the cavernous hall and surrounded by haloes of glittering light. Tradax waggled his finger again and Alex's breath caught in his throat. His little brother had been hurt!
"Arendus, if you would?" the Welkalite grinned maliciously, clearly enjoying the oldest Lucernas reacting to the news of the youngest in plight. The brutish Master of Violence nodded and dissolved into a pool of blood where he was stood.
"A clone?" Jenna blurted out in realisation, as the door to the balcony was pushed open and the true Arendus strode in. Alex cried out when he saw Caiellis struggling weakly against a muscled arm around his neck, hopelessly trying to break free.
"Oh? Where is Meira?" Tradax asked. His counterpart replied with a gruff: "Dead."
"Shame, I liked her."
The brothers' eyes met, Cai's green orbs bloodshot and terrified, and Alex wanted nothing more than to exterminate the Master from existence and save his little brother from harm. But Arendus held a large knife to the side of the boy's throat, and the gladiator would have no problems in killing Caiellis before Alexander could rescue him.
As bad as Alex took the situation, it affected Marik worse. Seeing his baby, his little Caiellis, in harm's way froze his mind. He had never before witnessed one of his sons in so much danger – he hadn't been there when Emili was stabbed, but arrived after Caiellis destroyed the demons. The sight of his precious youngest with the life being choked from him filled him with a tremendous rage that couldn't get past the mental block he felt. Marik had only experienced this once before, when the love of his life had been slain.
"The New Empire of Welkas would like to be able to survive without you Lucaelians interfering – to do this we need an alliance. However, you would never do so, so we knew that the perfect incentive for … shall we way persuading the stubborn king would be his sons," Tradax laughed, "Now, our proposal is simple. Alexander and Caiellis come with us to Welkas and act as your Lucaelian representatives, ensuring that you won't break your promises. We will release them when we are ready. You would never willingly agree to that, so now you have an easy choice to make – Your sons come to Welkas, or precious little baby Caiellis dies right in front of you. First, dispel your angels," he ordered, moving to Arendus and tenderly stroking Cai's mop of brown hair.
Akroma and Aurelia were dismissed instantaneously, with Bruna and Athela being released by their owners after a moment of hesitation.
"Get away from him," Alexander growled and made to move over to the Welkalite's side. A restraining hand prevented him, and he turned towards the pleading face of his father.
"If I let you go, who knows what may happen to you? You could both die," his blue eyes were desperate, "I'm sorry, but I can't take that chance. One heir needs to survive."
"You aren't seriously suggesting that, are you?!" Alex shouted indignantly. He was fully prepared to go along with Tradax's proposition, so long as he could get his little brother out of immediate danger. They would figure things out after that, and right now he didn't care about the future. He needed to protect Cai in the present. Alex was horrified that his father could even suggest sacrificing his youngest to keep them both out of danger.
"The longer you wait, the less air he has," Tradax called from across the room. He was right – Caiellis's struggles were becoming weaker as his oxygen-starved limbs refused to respond to his commands, falling limply by his sides as he realised that he needed to conserve energy. Marik's eyes locked with his, and Cai shook his head feebly.
"No...Don't..." he gasped out, and the father could see the shame and sadness, but more than that, the pleading, in his son's eyes. They said: Let me die. Get out with Alex. Don't let him be thrust into danger as well.
"Dad, we will be fine. I will make sure of it," Alex begged, his own blue irises desperate with the need to help his sibling. "Dad, please. We can't let him die."
"I will get you back," Marik resigned, promising his sons and etching that promise into his mind, where it would burn until it could be fulfilled. Alex nodded his head and ran over to Caiellis, still held by Arendus and dying in the man's grip. Tradax grinned victoriously and pressed a metal bracelet into the other prince's hand.
"Put this on before we release him," he commanded, and Alexander did so instantly, grunting when the mama-inhibitor cut off his magic flow. Caiellis was released, slumping to the floor and gasped violently, coughing and inhaling in equal measures.
"And lord Marik, should you attempt to get your sons back, or interfere in any way it is they who will pay the price," Tradax smirked arrogantly and Arendus roughly pushed the boys towards the exit, his gargantuan axe held one-handed. Alex reckoned that he could maybe best the man, but didn't want to risk doing anything with Caiellis in his current state. He held the smaller boy close to him and helped with the walking, turning around to meet his father's determined eyes one last time before they were dragged away by other Welkalite guards.
"What do you really want with us?" he snarled at Tradax, the man walking confidently in front of them.
"Oh, was my lie not very convincing?" he replied petulantly, taking on a childish voice as if trying to better interact with the princes. Alex stroked his brother's forehead when the boy shuddered and let out a small whimper.
"Oh well. There is someone in Welkas that wants to meet you."