Chapter Text
The wind. The icy wind. It blew so strong that night. In fact it might as well have been sending shivers across the entire continent of Xadia… like echoes of a huge battle. A figure walked against that wind, their posture uncompromisingly firm and decisive. They had a black cloak with golden edges that draped over them, with a hood that crowned far beyond their face.
The figure approached a tavern and after looking over their shoulders twice, they reluctantly entered it. The vile smell of alcohol filled their nostrils, that was enough to make them choke and almost gag. Their apprehensions eased slightly, as it was late enough, that the said consumers of the intoxicating concoctions were gone… just as they were reassured.
The barman nodded when the cloaked figure made their way to him and he pointed for them to go down into the cellar. It was filled with huge wine barrels, that continued to give off a nauseating smell of cheap alcohol to the mysterious figure. They held their breath, as they made their way to the second last barrel to the left. They knocked on it slowly three times and it opened.
They climbed inside the barrel to find themselves facing two men, lit by the lamp’s light at the small round table. The leader had a thin moustache and goatee and sat on a small round chair behind the table. He bowed his head and invited his visitor to sit at the chair opposite him. The cloaked figure sat, but did not take off their hood.
“What is this young pup doing here?” The figure’s voice was cold and impatient, as they referred to a tall and lean man behind the leader. “I thought I requested to speak with the Head of the Guild privately?”
“I assure you, that his youthful and lean looks are deceiving. The lad behind me is extremely capable.” The leader licked his lips as he paused, smacking them a couple of times to prevent the silence from fully settling in.
“I requested for the best that you can offer!” The figure spat.
“He is one of the best.” The leader tilted his head at the figure, twirling his moustache. “We only send our best assassins if it is absolutely necessary.”
“This is of the utmost importance!” The figure screeched. “The person you are going to be dealing with, not only is highly skilful, but there must be no doubt that the job gets done and that there are no traces left whatsoever!”
The leader leaned closer, resting his elbows on the table. “And just exactly who is that person? Who does our client want to get rid of and is afraid of getting suspected over so badly?”
“Him.” The figure stated coldly. The leader stared back wide eyed, as the young lad behind him choked, coughing a few times to clear his throat.
“Him?” The young man asked. “The Prodigy? That guy? The kid from the competition?”
“Yes.” The figure continued just as coldly, but this time disgust was frothing at their lips. “He has dishonoured himself and He has brought shame to humanity for siding with the elves to humiliate Katolis, Del Bar, Evenere and Neolandia. He is the main reason why the elves were able to hold on against Lord Viren and so He must be taken out, if the Human Kingdoms are to recover from this.”
“I understand why you asked for the best assassin our guild has to offer.” The leader leaned back, scratching his head.
“But there were others there!” The young man pressed her.
“Oh, what, the measly army of Duren and a few deserters from Katolis’s army?” The figure laughed coldly. “Please, they are not the threat, the only threat that exists out there is Him. With Him on the elves’ side, The Human Kingdoms will keep ending up on the wrong side of the battle and he will continue to soil our image.” The figure took out their purse and unceremoniously tossed it on the table. “The quicker this can be done with, the better it will be for everyone. He’ll do.” The figure nodded at the young assassin.
“Save your money and wait for the best assassin to get ready,” the young man shook his head. “I refuse to take your contract.”
“Don’t tell me you are one of those in the Pentarchy who believe that elves are capable of maintaining harmony and peace?” The figure scoffed. “Or worse, are you just as idealistic and naïve as King Ezran, along with his despicable group of friends, who think there can be something more than peace.”
“No one in the Pentarchy actually thinks that’s possible, even if it is something that everyone would want,” the young man disagreed, his shoulders turning sideways to her, as he crossed his arms. “But I am in the majority that want peace!”
“Do as you’re told.” The figure’s tone turned surprisingly harsh, colder than it used to be, as it shook the light in the small lamp. “That rotten elf who seems to be on extremely good terms with the king and the prince will be the first of many. The fish rots from its head and she will bring more of her disgusting, vile and evil kind to the Human Kingdoms until we’re overrun with them. So stop your nonsense at once, since you won’t get a lot of high profile people passing through here any time soon! I’ll make sure of it!”
“Your decision.” The leader said to the young man behind him, his eyes intently remaining on the figure.
“My answer remains the same.” The young man said decisively.
“Do you know who I am?” The figure suddenly raised to their feet, screeching loudly, as they shook a slender finger at him. “Do you know who my father was?”
“I am well aware,” the young man sighed. “But I still refuse to take your contract. Francis is a hero!”
“He is a traitor… and all traitors deserve death!” The figure slammed the table, nearly toppling over the lamp. Despite their clear displeasure, they did not leave… not immediately. They sounded and acted too desperate.
“If you are willing to wait, it might take a long time for the right moment to come but if he is able to move without arousing suspicion and blowing his cover, then we should have our best assassin ready to take on the job. He may have been recruited very recently, just before Lord Viren began his march on Xadia, but he is deceptively good.” The leader spread his legs, seemingly unmoved by the commotion the figure caused. “He won’t reject. It will be his Magnum Opus, I’m certain of it.”
“What choice do I have?” The figure hissed bitterly.
“Queen Zubeia, there is no point sitting here doing nothing!” Francis’s firm voice echoed across the Storm Spire’s main hall. “Me and my friends brought your son, who needed to be hatched, to you. We fought an entire army off and since then I have helped in rebuilding Lux Aurea and King Ezran, Prince Callum and Rayla have begun to mend relationships with Eastern Xadia! There is a lot of action from others and not enough from you!”
“You have quite a lot of guts to be speaking like that to me, Francis.” Queen Zubeia told him, impatiently shifting which paw was on top of the other.
“Yes, I do, because we all said that we wanted the elves and humans to progress beyond peace and yet you have done much less than us!”
“I have sent a letter requesting Silvergrove to pardon Rayla from her banishment, just like you insisted!” Queen Zubeia’s mane bristled.
“That was almost a month ago! You need to check up that they have actually carried out your request!” Francis exclaimed fervently.
“You are pushing it!” Queen Zubeia roared, standing up on all fours now.
Francis didn’t even flinch, as he stared back at her for a moment. “The fact that you haven’t killed me or thrown me out is a very good sign.” He continued to remain cool and collected. “It shows that you actually want this, that you want to build up our relationships. Yet something is preventing you from acting on it… like hesitance or doubt. Is something bothering you, Queen Zubeia?”
She regarded him carefully and then lowered back down to her previous position. “What if you are the only one?” She asked, off-put by the size of the task that was mending a relationship, riddled in conflicts and scars.
“I’m not.” Francis said. “Apart from my Team, my friends and many others, there is also you. You are talking to me and you wrote an official letter to lift Rayla’s banishment after I requested it.”
“Mind you, in your request, you saw that pardon as something so crucial to achieving those goals!”
“It is.” Francis said decisively.
“But is it really? Is this about you and your friends or is this about actually achieving the cause we are fighting for, your cause?” Queen Zubeia narrowed her azure blue eyes at Francis, who didn’t respond. She continued. “You are not the only one who is clever enough to deduce things around here. I always had the impression that you see things through and that you are a very, very driven and headstrong individual, but since when have you began to act so boldly?”
“I passionately believe in what I stand for.” Francis replied shortly.
“No.” Queen Zubeia shook her head. “You only get like this whenever your friends are affected by it. You really took a liking to those two princes and that Moonshadow assassin.”
“I would do anything for my friends!” Francis decreed.
“Would you?” She regarded him and his determined stare and stance was more than telling enough. Besides, he had a promise to keep. “Are you sure they aren’t distracting you? Humans fought side by side with elves for the survival of my son, which helped bring peace to the lands of Xadia. Yet, the humans still had to fight themselves in order to bring that peace. Sure, they can work together with elves, but could a human fight for an elf? That’s what we need to be focusing on right now!”
Francis sighed. “Queen Zubeia, if you truly want more than temporary peace, then both sides must do their part to build the relationships up, not just the humans. Action is stronger than words alone and it is the only constant in this world. Besides the elves and dragons are hardly flawless themselves.” He suggested very calmly.
Queen Zubeia carefully considered his words, before she continued. “The humans and elves had the same goal of stopping that ‘monster’ army, but had different reasons for doing so, even if peace was part of it. You can’t deny the fact that The Battle at The Storm Spire alone doesn’t prove that they can cooperate with elves! They may be able to band together to stop a threat, but what about a full-fledged cooperation, alliance or coexistence as you put it?”
“Well, if you want to push the latter agenda, then perhaps rewarding Rayla’s selfless action and cooperation with the princes, might be an incredibly powerful statement.” Francis hinted. Queen Zubeia huffed, still impressed by Francis’s persistence. How far would the man go for his cause and his friends? Would they get in a way of each other? Judging by the admirers who spoke about him, he really garnered their respect, to the point that they looked that they would follow him anywhere… and yet Francis was alone in this room with her. However, even to her, in a fairly short amount of time he somehow managed to spark hope in her heart. It made her concede a little.
“I suspect that despite my orders, Silvergrove might not follow them because of how radical the measure is, hence the lack of a response.” She said, before testing him. “You can prove me your words and intentions with action and make sure they do unghost your friend… and since you believe it to be so crucial, then we’ll build upon it and go from there.”
A soft grunt of a sleepy voice greeted the room for a new day at the Moon Nexus. Callum stretched his arms out wide as he woke up. He vaguely felt the ghosted presence of someone’s lips on his head.
“Oh, yes!” He exclaimed, jumping out of his bed. “We’re supposed to be going today, Rayla… good morning, by the way!” He spoke briskly, as he threw everything into his backpack. “This is going to be a great journey and we’re going to find Viren and defeat him… maybe we could get Francis’s help as well? We should definitely! Where should we go first? The Storm Spire? Somewhere around Lux Aurea? Or should we go further East? And… and…” Callum finally looked in the direction of Rayla’s bed. “Rayla?” It was empty and she and her stuff were nowhere in sight. “Rayla!” He called out. Maybe she was outside already, waiting up on him? Silence.
Something caught Callum’s eye. On Rayla’s pillow, neatly tied up with Phoe-Phoe’s feather, that was used to get the both of them out of that lake, laid a letter. Callum approached it… unwillingly so. He had a bad feeling about it… one he really didn’t want to come out to be true. A familiar false illusion came to him, that if he didn’t read it, it wouldn’t be true… Callum swallowed. He hesitantly opened the letter and read it.
Bitter tears rolled onto his cheeks… he locked the door, and sat sullenly on her bed, sobbing silently. He clutched the last things that had her presence: the letter with the feather in his one hand and her duvet in his other. He was all alone and she was gone.