Chapter Text
Screams of dying swordsmen and swordswomen are dampened by the heavy rain. Sound of heavy footsteps hitting puddles resounds. Thunder cracks but that is a sign a mage has probably killed your brother in arms.
Light barely peaks through clouds. It’s all gray and stormy and pouring. The shadows of the willowing trees shake the light like there’s a spinning chandelier. There’s no telling if an enemy is waiting to strike from behind.
Louis’s kingdom provided army uniform is filthy and weathered. He’s so young he barely fills it in that if you pinched his arm you’d only pinch fabric. Louis is covered in blood. It’s not his blood. Rather it was the blood of the enemies he’s fought thus far.
In the corner of his eyes he sees fellow soldiers of The Royal Army fighting. Steel clashing and elemental magic bursting. Bodies all around him fall, no matter whom they fought for.
There were more men in the rebellion than there were in Louis's battalion. It tripled their size.
Their job is to seize their fortress, kill their leader and extinguish them.
Louis would have liked it if he did this job by his lonesome. The small battalion the Royal Army assigned to him was strong but not up to the standard he expects even if his expectations were low. Even with his abilities one man alone would not be able to suppress a rebellion. A man without allies is bound for doom. It’s proven in the stories of military tactics he’s read.
A man with a jagged sword and a murderous look stops in front of Louis. He aims to obstruct Louis’s charge to the Rebellion’s main fortress but in a second Louis’s men beheaded him.
More from the rebellion appeared to stop their siege but Louis’s soldiers created an opening to the fortress for him.
He knows those people’s lives will end and their accomplishments will not be sung of when he leaves them there but it did not deter him. These people are but stepping stones to him.
The fortress stands tall, made of impenetrable stone.
Above it were stationed archers with their bow already drawn and pointed at him.
Louis scoffed. They would not stop him the slightest. As if on routine he merely waved his hand in the air and a shield of magic raised. Any arrows shot bounced right off.
Louis bursted through the heavy wooden doors of the entrance. The fortress is aged, worn from usage long ago for war now reused for this battle.
He climbs the fortress to the very top, along the way he’d slain every foe on his own.
He reaches the final room and looks outside to the open window. His men still drew breath and the rebellion, though still larger in numbers, his men kept up. More and more enemy heads hit the ground. Things were going well.
Once he destroys the leader who sits behind this door, the rebellion will have no choice but to surrender.
He rips open the door and takes a step in.
The door closes behind him with a clunking lock. It seemed they planned to trap him within.
It’s pitch black and he cannot see a single thing. Not the floor in front of him, not even his own reflection in his own sword.
Louis charges his sword with fire. The blaze ignites tracing the outline of the blade and the room is lightened. The flames burned so brightly all shadows in the room reached the ceiling. The room is smaller than he thought.
He sees the rebellion leader. Rough and towering. A claymore tied to his back. A paripus. This man had been ignoring Royal authority, fighting for autonomy to their territory. Any soldiers in the past that tried to stop them came back in pieces.
The Paripus unsheathes the claymore, swinging it to bring it forth. A show of power.
Rocks from the roofing crumble and fall. Clouds of dust rise.
Louis stands there as if nothing happened.
Their eyes are trained on each other. The two take tentative steps forward. Slowly circling each other. Waiting for the other to make a move like a lion waiting for its prey.
By just observing the grip the paripus has on his weapon, tight with white knuckles, Louis could tell he was nervous.
As for Louis, he was smiling. It’s just another Flamesday.
The paripus lunges like his claymore was ravenous and ready to eat Louis.
Like a cornered beast.
Louis steps backwards to dodge the hit and his back is against the door.
The paripus pursues him and raises his claymore again. A heavy swing this close to him would cut Louis in half.
Louis prepares himself to dodge again but the paripus kicks him in the chest.
It was a fake out. The paripus was more tactical than he was nervous.
Before Louis could brace himself the pain shot through his lungs. All air leaving his lungs and mind.
Louis breaks through the door. Wood is flung everywhere.
His vision goes upside down.
As he flies out the door he falls out the window and falls from the top floor of the fortress to the hard ground.
THUD.
Louis’s body hits the ground. For a long moment his body goes numb before he can feel the tip of fingers again. The pain reverberates in his skull. He can’t hear a thing. The world around him spins and his head feels heavy.
Suddenly all his senses return at full volume. Voices screaming so loud his ears could crack. Wet gravel pressed against his body like knives in his back. Rain beating down on his already beating head.
I-I’m outside?
He hears his battalion and the rebellion shouting. Every fight came to a stop and all eyes were on him.
“It’s Louis!”
“The Royal Army is finished! This battle is over!”
“No look! He stands!”
Louis hacks out blood. It racks his whole body.
He is sure his ribs broke. If it were anyone else they would have fainted but Louis would never let pain take him. It wasn’t an injury his own healing magic couldn’t fix but he wouldn’t have a body to fix if the injury gets in the way of this fight.
He wipes the blood off his mouth. The taste of iron lingers on his tongue.
He grips his sword in his hand. Its fire is out.
Thunder crashes. Time is still ticking, this fight is not over. He needs to get up, he needs to finish the battle.
Louis pries himself off the floor.
His legs shake as he builds himself up limb by limb until he stands.
The world is still spinning.
The paripus rebellion leader jumps down from the fortress window.
Thunder and lightning flashes the silhouette of the leader hovering in front of Louis.
He punches Louis in the face, then pins him to the ground with his giant body.
Louis is once again slammed into the floor. His head rings in pain.
Two giant hands around his thin neck.
They are face to face. Louis could feel the paripus’s disgusting breath on him.
“I don’t care if you’re a child, I’ll kill you! Any last words?”
Louis only smiles.
“Checkmate.”
The paripus frowns in confusion.
Louis raises his sword.
He sees the paripus’s pupil shrink in realization.
His sword builds up magic until lighting in the sky shoots into Louis’s sword and the sword is amplified in electricity, crackling with power.
Louis stabs the sword into the paripus.
Electric runs through, jolting him. Forcing his body to convulse and contort in unnatural shapes until he turns into a lifeless corpse.
The body is fried and sizzling with lingering electricity.
The battlefield is quiet. Not even the heavy rain was heard.
All stood in silence.
Louis kicks the dead body off of himself and stands on top of it.
“The battle is over. Know that it is I, Louis Guiabern who smothered the rebellion.”
His voice is thunderous as the storm.
Remaining men of the rebellion drop to their knees.
The Royal army cheers for their victory.
***
A pompous noble Ishkia pats the back of yet another pompous noble Ishkia like they’re close friends even if they just met.
Bustling and boisterous noise of the evening ball floats in the background as two nobles speak in not a hushed tone but one with snobby amusement. Gossiping the latest.
“Have you heard the rebellion up north has been quelled?” A thin noble mentions.
“That means trades can go back. Damned rebellion cost me lots of coins to be made.” The loud mouthed one said. He took a sip of a tall glass of champagne brought in by a servant of the noble house. They held their arm out as if they were modeling even if they were just taking one measly sip. “It was Louis Guiabern that ended it, they better decorate him with honors!”
“They are, he’ll be here in Grand Trad soon!” The thin noble said like they were boasting their commonly known knowledge.
“I even heard the rebellion was relentless. Even when he killed their leader, they kept on attacking! So he killed the remaining rebellion.” The loud mouth added.
“Oh how grotesque. But good riddance.” They roll their eyes.
“That just means no one will ever cause a rebellion again right? Can’t have the trade routes blocked again.”
“Good, I never have to worry again, I was getting anxious.”
They both laughed with closed mouths. Their chatter continued on but it was nothing of importance.
Rella unpeels herself from the wall she had attached herself to and shutters as she walks away. Eavesdropping never did good anyways. Not that it was a habit but she’d always found herself listening in on others problems whether she wanted to or not. Even in the twelve years she’s been alive she’s heard odd things people whisper to one another. The things they say when they think no one is listening.
She weaves through the crowd of people deftly. There were so many people it was warm and stuffy. She grabbed the edges of the sleeves of her sanctist robes. If only she could take it off but that was disgraceful. Especially in a room full of devout sanctists.
There were both nobles and church worshipers or people who were both wearing only their fanciest clothes. One thing united them, every single person here was of the ishkia tribe. A pair of thin elegant wings sprouting from their waist. One pair draped around their body like a second pair of hands held together and another sticking out, to take up space for the sake of it. The floor is full of stuck up people and slobbering voices. Pompous laughs ringing in all ears.
Room smells like perfume. Heavily. Like a cover up for their natural scent. Artificial as everyone’s smiles. The room is overly lit by an over engineered chandelier. Light reflected on giant mirrors on the walls and the jewelry on people. It was a wonder how these people’s eyes don’t hurt after standing in here for so long. Champagne glasses are everywhere. Once a half drank glass was set down on a table it was planted there, if the owner wanted to take another sip they’d just get a new one to take one sip and leave behind again and again. Fresh pink yellow grapefruit and lemon slices set out that no one touched that will probably be tossed later since no nobles wanted to dirty their hands with fruit juice. It looked nice on display but the servants might as well toss it out the window, even if they themselves looked hungry.
Rella looked around for the door, she was so much shorter than all the adults here that it was hard to see.
She continued to weave through people, hugging her arms together in hopes of making herself smaller so that she may get through easier.
“Why if it isn’t Rella of house Cygnus! The very house that hosts this esteemed ball!” a woman wearing too many colors greets her.
Rella tries to end the conversation fast. She stutters every word. Though noble, speaking wasn’t her strong suit. Her parents always criticize her about it. This conversation only reminded her of the everyday criticism she gets.
She exits the room. Immediately everything is dark, much color, much quieter. Only moonlight from one side from the windows light the floor in cold colors. The light painted everything lifeless. Even the flowers decorating the hallway looked dead.
She walks down the hall. The ballroom wasn’t too far from her own room.
There are paintings hung up on the wall. The whole house is a legacy of ishkia who all excel at magic. In fact each person’s worth was measured by their abilities. Each painting showcases them and their achievements but the picture is still a front facing portrait. It’s like they stare at her, watching her with her eyes, every step she takes.
It didn’t feel like her ancestors watched over her either. The house has a terrible history. Every person in this house is complicit in crimes. Her own parents always yielded to authority at any instance, never siding with what was right but what’s needed to maintain status. Their need for maintaining status translated to them pressuring Rella to become an accomplished mage. So she was forced to study magic. And even if she did find magic beneficial to what she liked doing most, helping others, her life was not her own.
Rella walks through many halls until she finds the living quarters.
The foyer room Rella entered is furnished with a wooden brown table with a centerpiece is a greenery bouquet. There’s a plate on the table of half eaten berry scone and a glass of milk.
Junah is there. What a relief it was for Rella to see her. All her nerves untensed. She didn’t know how much she stiffened up since being at the ball. Junah was sitting kicking her legs that don't reach the floor holding a feather pen in her hand.
That featherpen was made from Rella’s feathers. One time when Junah was combing Rella’s wing, Rella let her keep it, and she’d made it into a pen.
Junah was her beloved younger sister. Rella and the entirety of house Cygnus was of the Ishkia tribe, but Junah was Nidia. They had lushious hair and big jewel-like eyes. Rella loved admiring those eyes, as fascinating as they were passionate.
Nidia had discrimination for being declared as liars. Because of this they tend not to get as many high positions in the workforce as other tribes. But Junah won’t let discrimination stop her. She’s told her that. She will sing so she as a nidia can rise from it.
That was her talent. Singing. Rella first heard her sing, it was phenomenal. She wanted to hear it forever, everyday. Everyone wanted to hear her.
Rella admires her fortitude. To be faced with the discrimination but still have dreams of being a singer and using her dreams to stay inspired and that makes Junah bold. Mabe Rella can have hopes and dreams too. She is always inspired by her. At this young age she is always weary but Junah makes her hope.
House Cygnus was the bane of her existence but Junah living with them gives her hope.
She wants to protect Junah and everything she stands for and the joy Junah makes her feel.
Rella knocks on the door frame.
“Junah?” She says softly, not wanting to startle her.
“Rella! You’re back!” Junah dropped everything and ran over to hug her. Rella melted in her arms. Rella was happy that someone loved her without a second thought to her magical abilities. “Did you have fun at the party?”
“Oh no, it was a boring thing.” Rella said without hesitating. She felt much more free to speak her mind when she was around Junah. “It was not fun at all.”
“Ew! That sounds terrible!”
Junah stuck her tongue out. There were times Junah asked Rella if she could come with her to the ball, to sing and play with her but the more Rella tells her of its long hours of nothingness, Junah had stopped asking. But whether she wanted to or not House Cygnus would not openly announce they were housing a nidia.
“What were you doing while I was gone?”
“I was drawing!”
She runs over to grab the paper she was drawing on and holds it up for Rella to see. The entire page was filled with abstract sketches and words Rella could not decipher.
Junah is supposed to be writing down hymns or something related to what the church teaches her. The hymns are for her to sing at the church as she does every other day. The church gave her education and she sang for them. She always found them boring so she instead draws and writes. Inspirations for her songs. It’s wild and full of imagination. Sometimes they were so full of whimsy it scared Rella but she was just happy Junah had something going for her.
“I’m writing a new song! I’m going to sing it at church once I’m finished, and if they like it, they said I can perform at the nightly gatherings!” Junah beams.
“Wow! That’s amazing! I’m so proud, Junah.”
Junah wiggled her arms in excitement.
“It’s going to be my first time performing at night! There’s going to be a lot more people than there are in the daytime!”
Rella smiled.
It will be the first time Junah will be singing for a real crowd, not just a small group of people. This would be the start of her musical career.
Junah stopped wiggling. Rella examined her face in confusion.
“But they have to approve my song first…”
Junah’s face was full of worry. Rella caressed her head.
“I’m sure they’ll like it.” Rella assured.
“This is the first song I’ll ever show them, can I sing it for you?”
Rella agreed and it was the most melodic song she’s ever heard. She knew for sure the song would be accepted. She just hoped the church would agree.
“I love it.” She said so with genuine interest.
Junah was giddy to have heard that.
“You’re so nice Rella! I want to be like you when I grow up!”
Rella’s eyes widened. In astonishment and worry. What was there for Junah to look up to? Rella hadn’t done much but listened to orders from her parents. Was she really a good role model for Junah to look up to?
“Oh no, you should be yourself! You’re beautiful and strong!” Rella said cupping Junah’s face.
Rella would never want Junah to live the life she had. Junah’s life should be her own.
“See Rella? You are nice!” Junah giggled. “Let’s go play!”
Junah grabbed Rella’s hands and shook them hand up and down.
“But it’s evening, we should head to bed.”
Junah’s excitement deflated.
“What about tomorrow?” Junah asked. She looked into Rella’s eyes like a sad helpless puppy asking mercy. Rella could see disappointment in those large jewel-like pupils that she loved.
“I have work in the castle tomorrow. A lot of important soldiers and military commanders are in need of my healing assistance.” Rella tells her. “But tonight you can comb my wings and I can comb your hair.”
“Yay!”
***
In a lowly lit candle light room with thick walls made of something that resembles stone. There are tall windows that feel like prison bars that only let thin strips of moonlight in. The roof is high and spacious capped by a roof with square patterns finely detailed. If you looked up there would only be something that feels like a lid and you can’t see the stars light if you looked up. No semblance of freedom.
The room is decorated with metal and crystal chandeliers. No flowers or greenery. It’s not comfortable but that is made up by the plush pillows and blankets on the canopy bed and the room is littered with children’s toys.
The only son of King Hythlodaeus the fifth, Will, sits reading to himself. Most boys his age could not read well but thanks to all the tutoring he had Will could read books even adults struggled with.
He tucks a hair behind his ear.
Will always enjoyed reading. There wasn’t much else to do in the palace but reading felt like he was transported to a plethora of different places. Will closes his eyes. He pretends he’s in a flowery field or the rocky mountainside. If only he could be there instead. He would love to go anywhere.
He’s all alone when he’s here. During the day his knight Hulkenberg watches him. She says she can’t play with him since she’s standing guard but no one dangerous had ever come for him so Will thinks she’s standing there for nothing when they could be playing together. It would have been so much fun. She even looked like she secretly did want to play with him but she’s supposed to be professional. During the evening she leaves, for her assignment wasn’t to watch him sleep. There was nobody for him to hang out with.
All alone with only the sound of rain beating on the window if it rains, the sound of a bird flying by, the sound of the wind, or silence.
At least his imagination can keep him company.
Knock knock.
His mind snaps back to reality when he hears a knock at the door.
Immediately he lights up. A wide grin forms on his face.
Will carefully closes the large tome that is the size of himself and gets up from his sitting position on the fluffy woven floor rug and pats his white sleeping gown down. He was surrounded by wooden and fleece toys and a plethora of books left open but he walks around them without tripping over anything or knocking things over.
He heads to the door. The door is opened by a royal guard, who frowns at him with a disapproving look. A frown. Aimed at him. He knows not to make their judgement take value. It wasn’t important that the random soldiers of the day didn’t like him but the frowns were still stamped in his mind.
“Good evening, Father!” He says politely and joyfully. Will bounces in place.
His father had a faraway look in his eyes. Looking sad as always.
He is always busy with his duties; he doesn't usually come to play with him. Will only ever saw him in the evening. He sees Hulkenberg and his tutors longer than he does his father.
When the king looked down at him a smile bloomed on his face.
The king patted Will’s head. Will loved head pats. It was anothing thing he looked forward to with visits.
The king immediately walks over to sit at the bed. It was routine to him.
Will scurries over to his father who was sitting on the edge of his bed. Will walks up to his knees and pats them eagerly. Will looks up and his father smiles back.
The king picks him up and places him on his lap.
Will leans onto his father. His head meets the fuzzy black robes. His father, the king, was still in his royal garb. Most likely didn’t have time to change into evening wear but he still made the time to be here now.
The king has an old book in his hand.
“What book did you bring Father?”
His hand sweeps over the cover. He looks fond of the book. Maybe he’s read it and loves it.
If Father loved it then it had to be a good book! Will thought.
“The story of a seeker.” He says. His eyes gained a bit of life. Seeing that made Will more excited.
As the king opens the book Will could not contain himself. He scuttles closer and his face is hovering over the pages.
“What’s a seeker? Is it like hide and seek?”
The king looks at him with all the joy in the world. He loved how excited Will was when they read together and being with him was the most exciting moment of his day. If not for all his kingly duties, he would spend more time with his son. Alas it was not up to him to decide that.
“No.” The king responds lovingly. “He is a man who was a hero to the people. He has a fiddle. Plays music magic that can bring joy. He fights for peace, brings hope and quells anxiety and he rides his horse drawn carriage to take him to the dangers that threaten the world.”
The sounds of the accomplishments filled Will with wonder.
“What does the seeker look like?” Will asked. He leaned in close to see a vague image drawn in the pages of the book.
“Our hero of the story has crystal blue eyes, olive brown skin, and a beautiful smile.” The king caresses Will’s cheeks.
Will puts his two tiny hands over his father’s hand and blushes. He knows his father is describing him. He liked that his father saw the seeker’s ambitious will in him.
He didn’t know his father saw his mother’s face in him.
“And the brightest silver hair.” He combs through Will’s hair. Just like his wife, only less curly. Will’s hair was like a combination of them. His wife’s curls plus his straight hair. It framed his plump baby cheeks.
The king stares deeply at his son. The more he looks at him the more he is reminded of his late wife.
The same face. The same eyes. The very same hair albeit less wavy. A perfect portrait of her.
The more he looked at him the more pain he felt.
When he looked at him he’d get flashbacks of the time he had with his beloved wife. The days when they laughed together, when she showed him how to fly around her home on a sword, which he failed miserably. The afternoons they had the most delectable meals together. The nights when they read the stars.
If only she was here. The three of them could be reading together. Now it’s just him and Will.
The king breathed in to sigh but held his breath.
Even with all the kingly magic he wielded, he could not reverse time and bring her back.
He’d become desperate but would not take it out on the world around him, instead he just lies in sadness. Take the pain and hold it in.
The king’s eyes were so forlorn Will stared back at him with questioning thoughts.
Will looks between his father and the book. He knew something was wrong. Maybe reading would cheer him up. That always made Will feel better. Will believes it can do the same for his father.
“This hero… what amazing adventures he goes on!” Will proclaims as he recalls what his father just read.
His mind ran ahead of him. He pictured himself as the seeker fighting monsters, stopping floods from destroying villages, and being surrounded with companions.
He imagines scenic places he has never been before. Vast sandy deserts blowing away his imaginary hat, hot sun on his back. The salty ocean breeze on his tongue as cold water splashes his face. A forests with vibrant flowers. The aroma relaxing his nerves. Flowers surrounding him that were pink, purple, blue. Blue…
Will gasps.
“What if he has blue hair?!” Will shouted and grasped at his father’s cloak. He got up and started hopping on the bed.
The king snapped out of his sadness and chucked.
“Yes, he has blue hair.” The king said contently.
The king held out a hand to hug Will and maybe get him to settle down but he just kept bouncing.
“What if he has yellow eyes or dark blue eyes, or-or both?”
Will looks at him with anxiousness. He was so excited he couldn’t keep it in.
The child had boundless imagination.
The king pulls Will closer to him.
“One day when the seeker was out adventuring, he discovered…” The king started reading aloud the book.
Will’s eyes traced the pages. The story captured Will’s attention. He felt like he was there in the seeker’s world. Reading with his father was a thousand times more fun than when he read by himself.
Time went on as they came to a stopping point in the book.
The king tucks Will into bed until he is snuggly wedged in the blankets. He plants a kiss on his forehead.
Will reaches up and kisses him back on the cheek.
“I wish our time together was longer.” Will said sadly.
The king held his son’s hand.
“I do too. It was quite the wait to find time like this, I’m afraid the next we see each other may be a while. There is more I must attend to.”
Will frowned. It hurt the king's heart so he held onto Will in a tight hug.
“Do you still have that novel I gave you?” He was referring to the book he himself wrote.
Will nodded.
“Good boy.“
He wished he could give his son more than a heavy crown and a broken world, more than a small room with dusty books. But where else but a room for him to be protected? Outside he is ridiculed despite being of princely status for the sake of being an elda.
“Next time I’ll bring more books.”
He hoped fantasy was something he could give his son. To dream of a future where he could live in a kinder world and that it was possible that Euchronia could become kinder.
He himself is not sure a world like that existed. With how his wife died he’s slowly losing the hope he was supposed to give his son.
He would be devastated if anything happened to his baby boy.
But maybe he didn’t have to worry so much, this is the safest place in all of Euchronia for his boy to be after all…