Chapter Text
The ash and rubble fall, revealing her creation to the world. A fallen kingdom forevermore. A fallen kingdom for Eternity.
The council of the Northern Prairie ruled over the entire premises with iron fists, or so they had presumed. Truth be told, this council had blood on their hands. It became a habit of sorts, showing leniency on the crimes of those who could pay to keep one's mouth shut, and before long the aristocracy of the North had just the same amount of guilt to harbor as the council itself. Corruption rose over this kingdom, yet nobody sought to make a change.
That is when the witch arrived.
She referred to herself as ‘The Bringer of Justice’, to which the council erupted into laughter. A chuckle sounded from the white feathered raven that had been sitting so comfortably on his velvet seat, whatever soul resided behind his mask catching the stern gaze of the witch.
“Are we to believe that you are of any threat to us?” The raven inquired in a condescending manner. Another voice rang out, this time of an older man with long white hair. He was caressing a prestigious blade between his fingers playfully. The man sat adjacent to the raven, similarly amused by the situation.
“My dear friend, can't you see? We must listen to her demands: give her a slice of bread, will you? Feed the needy!” Mockery. Another loud laughter erupted across the hall, the witch remaining composed and stern.
“I see that you are choosing not to treat me seriously. I am generous enough to warn you, to give you an opportunity to change your ways. Are you taking this chance?” The older man raised a brow at this, propping his elbows onto the stone table curiously.
“Tell me, maiden. What is it that you'll do if we, say, do not follow through with these ‘changes’ you desire?” A smirk stayed fixed on the man's face as he judged every inch of the witch with his gaze, intrigued by what she might respond with.
Instead of a response, she silently placed a metal box onto the centre of the stone table. Another less hearty laugh sounded, stifled by confusion.
The box was beautifully ornate. Its craftsmanship was immaculate, almost otherworldly.
“Is this an offering?”
“It is the very token that'll seal your fate.”
Another laugh sounded. This time the witch smiled. The box opened itself, revealing a shadowy smoke that soon engulfed the hall in its entirety. Laughs faded to screams. Screams faded to silence. The witch observed as the smoke escaped the windows, leaking into the city below. Chaos ensued.
A curse began on the aristocracy whose hands were forever stained with blood, a curse in which they must give all their value to the ones who deserve. A sacrifice to ‘the needy’. Justice.
- (QUICK NOTE!!! “ciocia”, or in this case “ciociu” means “aunt” in Polish!! Just a silly headcanon of mine :33)
The kingdom of the South thrived in all its glory. It's forever protected by the renowned Dragon Hunter, whose blood was blessed by both the ancient Red and White dragons. The kingdom's people were never left unfed, under-nurtured or without entertainment. Outsiders called it paradise, and the citizens couldn't help but agree.
For this reason, it's not surprising that many seek refuge within the walls of this kingdom. In any usual situation, a group of travellers arriving from a war torn nation were granted shelter right away. But this was different.
As the witnesses perceive it, on a cloudy afternoon a couple dozen vagrants had entered the palace gates in woe from a curse set upon their nation. Collectively, they made an apparent effort to inform every citizen of their suffering, in search of eventually received pity.
A former duchess, who allegedly was cursed, was invited to a royal supper to discuss this situation on the very evening the vagrants settled in. What better way to be informed of new events than by your own family?
“Oh my, you don't know how glad I am that you received my letter before we arrived, Frederick.” Mary sighed, looking upon the lavish food on her plate with a pang of self pity.
“From what I understand, your council has fallen and the citizens of the North scattered across the three remaining kingdoms.” The reply came with an attempt to sound casual, despite the hunter's fixed serious demeanour. Mary watched as he took a sip of wine expectedly, as though he missed out an important detail.
Frederick caught her gaze.
“Oh yes, sorry, a witch put a curse on your kingdom and killed your council. Ciociu, am I supposed to believe this is truly what occurred?”
Mary appeared baffled by this assumption, shaking her head condescendingly at the man.
“You must believe me, just look! I wish to touch this steak, to consume it, I cannot! I cannot drink this wine either, it'd poison me! That wicked woman put a miserable halt to our lives.”
“You cannot live without a bottle of wine, ciociu?”
“That is not at all the point I am making. She had no reason to do this to us; this is an act of pure evil. You don't stand for evil in this world, do you?”
Frederick pondered for a moment, sitting back on his chair. If this ‘Witch of the North’ truly was real and she had done what his aunt is telling him she's done, then he has a vendetta to fulfill. He cannot let people suffer within his knowledge.
“What do you think I should do about this?”
“Find her. Find her and convince her to lift the curse. End our suffering, dear.”
“And who will protect the kingdom?”
“You have troops, do you not? Put your faith in someone other than yourself for once, Frederick.”
A sigh escaped the hunter's lips as he rose from the table, dismissing his aunt back to her newly wedged quarters before returning to his own.
There shouldn't be any more time wasted. He dressed himself in his armour, carefully slotted his daggers into their respective sheafs and instructed for a steed to be prepared on the kingdom's border. The journey there and back should take roughly a day, however he was still unsure of what he would find among the rubble. Frederick was only set on one thing as he rode his steed out of the gates and into the moonlight: avenging the cursed.