The stone city of Shadow-Stone thrived with life, the sun shining down upon the old Roman town as townspeople went about their ordinary days. Blacksmiths continued their task forging weapons for trade and the unlikely battle scenario. Those working the markets ran their stalls, greeting customers and conversing with friends, always with a compliment or two on hand. Taverns busy both the townsfolk and travelers passing through the land. The soldiers tasked with protecting the people wandered around clad in silver chainmail, the signal of King Matthias Iseult sown onto the black tunic they wore over chainmail.
Despite the overcast of war on the borders of Umbara, the people seemed peaceful. After all, King Matthias was no fool; despite his preference for peace and the desire to protect his people, he knew not to leave the borders unprotected. Like any king, he knew that political alliances had to be made.
"When Damian said the people here were blissfully unaware, I did not think he meant blind ignorance," said Finn as he and his loyal companions rode through the thick wooden gates leading into the city on horseback. The muddy grass turned into hardened clay, smoothed over and sometimes decorated with cobbles. Thatched-roof cottages lined the main road to the castle and the church, and many minor clay roads led to more streets.
"They are not ignorant, my lord," voiced Aleister. "Observing quietly as if to determine potential threats," he added, his tone cool and calm as usual. "They are not blind to the war scratching at their borders either; you see their weariness of strangers. They do not react because we are not the enemy they fear," explained the man so often referred to as the devil, a smile of gentleness as he waved to a few inquisitive townsfolk.
"So brother," began Kane, his voice firm but cracking from the lack of use. "Tell me about the lady we are here for," added the fire demon, for once maskless, if only to prevent stirring up fear and chaos, as he'd done many times. Despite being a member of Balor's inner circle, none had spoken a word regarding the motivation of the impromptu visit to the mortal realm; instead, The Undertaker had only worded it was of great importance to the king.
"I will know her when I see her," replied Taker, a half-smirk across his lips. He enjoyed the journey's mystery but wished to share his visions with others to lighten the burden. "As will you. She's the heart of the city," he added, suspecting anyone held in such regard would be hidden from strangers, protected even, as a queen would be in times of war.
"Devitt, Kane, we search for Devitt," worded Finn from the middle of the group, shifting upon his horse as if to regain a comfortable position. Despite once being a mortal man himself, he found little enjoyment in acting like one. He saw no interest in being in the mortal realm since becoming the demon king so many lifetimes before being branded a monster.
Unusually for Bray, he remained silent, watching many as he rode his black steed up the main road. So many passed, from men going about their workday to women leading children along and tending to their homesteads. Sometimes, children ran around freely while attending adults mingled together. An ordinary city, Shadow-Stone appeared; nothing special about it, Bray thought. Yet it was set to be the center of a long history still waiting to be written.
Among those Bray observed were two walking together: a young man, perhaps a lord, just a little older than his lady companion, a lady about the age one would marry, maybe a little older. Both had hair as black as night, one with dark eyes to match and the other with eyes of striking sapphire. Despite the warm day, the young lord wore long sleeves, and the lady wore a light coat of fine linen, maybe even cotton. Their smiles did not reach their eyes, as others did, as if something had dampened their spirits.
Another to catch Bray's attention was a woman dressed in a golden gown of silk, complete with a shawl to protect her from the breeze. For the most part, she was nothing special, perhaps a high-born lady, but her eyes gained Bray's attention—hazel eyes of judgment, tainted with hatred and malice—enough to ward away even the bravest men approaching her.
"Finally," muttered Kane upon the group of five reaching the castle's steps. There, he took in the sight of it. There was nothing special about the building; it was just two stories with thick wooden doors serving as gates. Almost all the windows were filled with stained glass. A small river flowed around it and under the stone bridge quietly, so quietly one would miss it was there upon initial viewing. "It is not as grand as I would have thought or imagined," commented Kane, not seeing the finely dressed man or woman appear from the thick wooden doors adorned with spikes, the man with a simple crown upon his head.
"Shadow-Stone is a modest city, lord," voiced the kingly man, his voice calm even in the face of offense. "What brings you to my small kingdom?" asked the man, not hiding his status as king but not speaking of it. After all, it wasn't an unusual sight for travelers to pass through nor magic folk to settle within the borders of Umbara; the kingdom was open to all and home to many, regardless of the war happening beyond their lands.
"Forgive my companion for his offense; I am Finn Balor; we were sent here in search of someone," spoke the demon king, slipping into his persona of the mortal man he'd once been. "We come from East Anglia. King Athelstan sent us on his behalf," added Finn, his old Irish accent thick; despite his hesitation, he dismounted from his horse, if only to show respect to the man he'd identified as the king.
"I am Matthias, King of Umbara. This is my lady wife, Thyra," voiced the kingly man, confirming Finn's suspicions. The four men followed him to climb from their horses hastily. Each offered a bow of respect to the ruling couple, even when their act of unyielding love was anything but honest. An arranged marriage, Bray thought, loveless but kind and gentle, the lady queen at least seemed to have found some happiness.
"Tell me, lords, who has the old king Athelstan sent you to retrieve?" the lady queen asked. Her brunette hair had tints of copper shining through it, and her smile was sweet, as if she only wished to help. She had a motherly aura about her, out of the ordinary for other queens of her age—those who held such a title but had no power or voice.
"He only gave us the name Devitt," said Kane, his voice harsher than intended. He was emotionless, and aside from the boredom, he tried hard to hide. Behind him, the Undertaker, clad in black leather, roughly shoved his shoulder in warning, causing the taller brother to stumble. Almost immediately, concern appeared in Matthias's eyes; he knew the name and the family to which it belonged. His childhood companion turned governor, Valentine Devitt, his wife, Lady Elena, and their sweet daughter, Viserra. Another had once carried the name Devitt, now Snow. Lady Edith was the woman Matthias had once hoped to marry before the political alliance with the failing kingdom of the Far South.
"Only one remains with the Devitt name," the lady queen, Thyra, voiced. A concern echoed in her voice. Her only child was closely bonded with the orphaned girl. "May I ask what your king desires with, Lady Devitt?" asked the queen, her tone kin to that of a protective mother; it was clear the lady in question meant a lot to her and her small family.
"A prophecy was spoken of her, my queen," answered Bray, his voice filled with sincerity. "We mean her no harm and possess no desire to take her from you," he reassured, sensing the fear and protectiveness the Queen Thyra offered. One did not have to be a seer to see the queen thought of the lady in question as her child, the daughter she never had.
"Then I regret to inform you that Lady Devitt resides not within the castle but with her uncle, Lord Guiseppe Snow. You will find the family near the southern gate. My guard, Alyn, will escort you there," spoke Matthias, as the king he was. Still, concern shone in his eyes, fear too, but not of the five men before him, but for the terror that awaited the lady in question when her Uncle was informed. More danger would likely await: hurt and pain, abuse no woman should have to live through. "I warn you, though, Lord Snow is not fond of those who seek to give attention to his niece. Tread carefully. It is not unlike him to punish her for misdeeds she is innocent of," added the king.
Once again, he wished the day would come when his beloved Edith would accept his offer—even Thyra's offer—if only to save her only son Qimir and sweet niece Viserra from the torment they were so often put through, if only to save herself from it. If Edith did not accept the offers made to her, he hoped his only son would find the courage needed to grasp the love he so heartedly desired.
"You'd tell these strangers of her whereabouts, why?" asked Thyra. Immediately, her act as queen slipped, being replaced by that of the mother she indeed was. Her heart was heavy with concern and worry, and her green eyes glistened with the fear she refused to give power to. After all, she knew some of the words the softly spoken man had voiced were a lie; they did intend to take the sweet Lady Devitt away.
"How many times have we prayed for her to be saved, for Qimir and Edith to be saved, spared from the life of misery they were dealt? How many times have we prayed that our son would gain the courage to ask her to be his queen? How many times have we prayed to the gods Edith would accept our offers?" asked Matthias, with a soothing tone to his gentle words, even if frustration ran through them. "You see it as clearly as I do. They do not mean her harm, but they can save her when we can not," he added, abandoning his kingly act now and replacing it with that of the concerned godfather he was. "I pray now if they do take her, she will return one day."
"Promise me, you will finally bestow Lord Snow with the judgment and punishment he truly deserves," spoke Thyra, her hatred for the knight so powerful it burnt her words. "I can not bear to see such a monster remain free when he should see it fit to cause harm to another so harshly," she added, recalling the rude knight in question had little respect for anyone, women least of all, regardless of their titles. The only reason he remained unpunished was the king's love for Edith. He did not wish to see her shunned and suffering because of her husband's actions.
"I will, but we have to ensure the lady Viserra and young lord Qimir are not within his grasp, nor that of his dastardly daughter," replied the crowned king, questioning what the cost would be for the justice all desired. After all, Guiseppe Snow was not a man many would wish to cross paths with in the dead of night, nor the type of man an innocent would desire the attention of.
Maybe he was a kind gentleman once, a long time ago. A suitor many women would have dreamt of calling their own. But now, he was anything but a man tainted by greed, power, and ambition to rule. A head injury sustained during a jousting tournament had done little but change him further; gone was his kindness and loving ways, replaced with cruelty and love for hurting those who stood in the way of his desires. He often calls his favorite targets, his wife, son, and niece, a curse. His daughter, Allegra, was the only member of his household spared from his ways; instead, she was a student of them, so much so that she had become a woman few sought after nor wished to marry. Instead, they avoided her as if she were a mistress of evil.
"Aemond," called Thyra, her voice gentle despite the tears threatening to stain her cheeks. "Find Lady Devitt and Young Lord Snow; return them here; I do not wish them in harm's way," she added, her command spoken as gently as before. "I ask you speak to our son lord, husband. His heart is on the line now, as yours was many years ago,"
"You have my word," spoke Matthias, knowing he could not deny her request. She loved their son with everything she had and had no desire to see him suffer as she once had. "I will do my best to prepare him so he does not suffer as we both did," added the king, recalling when Thyra had spoken of the brave and loyal man she'd once hoped to marry, a knight of her kingdom. Sir Lucas was his name. He'd come with her and served as a member of the royal guard, at least until his untimely death, taken by the same illness that had also claimed Valentine and Elena Devitt.
With the words spoken between the royal couple, Queen Thyra left her spot of greeting, returning to her ladies for the regular walk through the royal gardens and to meet with the women of the city. King Matthias left the area mere seconds later, looking back briefly before returning to his task; Prince Lucian would be somewhere in the castle, either in the library or the courtyard, with his instructors. As he walked, he thought of his childhood with the walls of the castle, of Valentine Devitt, and the friendship they shared. Of his failures to protect Viserra and ensure she was cared for as he had promised.
"Hear me, Valentine. I will not fail you further. Your daughter will find happiness, even if I must change what it is to achieve it," whispered Matthias, wishing only for his words to be heard by his old friend in the heavens above, by God himself if it meant it came true.