Chapter Text
The royal palace was empty for years but not that day. There wasn’t many opportunities for the blue army general Markus Kirby, the fourth level mage lord Varian Mortimer and the governor Ealric Delon to meet. Not before and certainly not during the war. But everything was calm in the last few months. The red army was acting more defensive recently, which on its own was rather worrying. Their scientific and military research was very well known and it is only a matter of time when the results are used in battle. Dylan Hawk, the second in command, was growing concerned about blue troops in smaller cities and the leaders there becoming an easy target for whatever may come. He even suggested travelling to those cities himself to be able to come up with possible scenarios and plans in case of emergency. But general Kirby was against that idea, insisting on taking that responsibility on himself instead of risking Dylan’s already weak health on such exhausting trip.
Lord Mortimer was also travelling. Offering his healing abilities to those most affected by the war. As soon as he learned that general has left the capital city he had contacted his old friend Ealric to arrange a meeting. The governor has chosen the abandoned ruins of the royal palace which he had planed on rebuilding into a museum for a long time. The war put that process on hold as there were now more urgent needs to spend the money on and there were also now two rightful heirs to the royal palace and soon maybe even the throne.
The Dean family line was believed to be extinct after the last king of Salvia Aurix Dean III. was murdered by the revolutionaries. He was never married and supposedly died childless. The sudden discovery of two brothers with the royal blood came with a shock at first, but soon there was enough evidence that left little to no room for doubts. And it wouldn’t be the first time for the royal family to be saved by an illegitimate child.
Much more unexpected was a fight between the two brothers. There was short time period between the fall of the old regime and forming of the two armies when the royal twins were inseparable, they were determined to work together on uniting the empire and rebuilding it. The younger brother never stepped out of his sibling’s shadow, he was his biggest supporter and did everything he could to secure the crown for his older brother. But it was also him who had raised the sword against his own brother first. According to a lot of people quite rightly so as Carlyx Dean has proven himself to be a monster. Literally. That day he had shown the world his full power. A dark power provided by a demon. A greatly feared entity known to transform its host’s body and abilities.
And even without this dark secret, the older brother while being a natural leader has exposed himself to be much more ruthless and thirsty for vengeance than anyone could have thought. His desire for revenge on the old regime that formed out of the initial revolution responsible for the end of the monarchy wasn’t exactly a secret nor something people would blame him for. But as the time went by, he was slowly becoming less subtle about it, beginning with emphasising how much blood the old regime has on its hands. The blood of his people, millions of people tortured, hunted and killed for nothing more than their race, mainly mystics and mixed people with a few thousands werecats once added to the list. He wanted compensation for all of that for the affected families, a wish which the majority shared with him. But in the end a lot of people had drawn the line when the older prince made clear that he meant compensation by blood. His calling for genocide of those who enjoyed many privileges in the old regime while his people were being murdered in masses to the point of becoming worryingly close to extermination wasn’t that popular as it meant killing all humans. Including those whose only crime is once again their race.
So it just so happen and for everyone to see, the two brothers fought each other in a fierce fight. A fight which the older, stronger and more experienced Carlyx easily won. That day he threw away his old name and started using his nickname more officially. Yency, which meant invincible in the old language. He also put himself in charge of his new army, the red army, and soon after conquered the east. His younger brother Miles went missing. Some people speculate that he succumbed to his injuries from the fight or by his brother’s example changed his name and ran away from the war. Only few people knew the truth about the younger prince’s whereabouts.
The whole meeting at the abandoned royal palace seemed like a very bad idea now. And taking just four men as an escort with him was another decision that general Kirby bitterly regretted now when he, the governor and no less important mage found themselves imprisoned at the palace ruins surrounded by the enemy’s forces. Their four bodyguards probably already captured as they were supposed to stay outside. They were severely outnumbered, their only hope lied in one of the old tunnels leading out of the palace. Which one to choose though? Which one of them doesn’t end in the middle of the red army’s troops? Which one isn’t collapsed? And is it even possible to get to one of them before they’re found and captured? None of these questions were meant to be answered as the three men were interrupted by a mischievous laugh.
It’s been a long time since general Kirby had the chance to look the older prince in the eyes. Honestly, he hoped he would never have the chance ever again since it was confirmed that he had mysteriously vanished. That’s where all the defensive approach of his followers came from. He hated to admit it when Miles was clearly very upset about that information, but he had hoped the demon that has been guiding the prince had dragged him to hell already and he will never come back. Yet, there he was as frightening and insidious as ever.
It wasn’t pleasant to look at him for many reasons. Not that he was hideous or anything like that, not in the slightest. It can be said that the prince in a way lived up to the reputation of beauty of noble mystics. But his appearance was also that obvious sign pointing at the twisted source of his power. Lord Mortimer wasn’t sure if it was more sad because all of those horrible things the prince had to overcome in the old regime that resulted in this or because no one even noticed.
The prince was pale. Not pale in a way like you can see with people living in the north, but such paleness that could have easily be interpreted as a sign of albinism if it hasn’t been for his pitch black hair. He also had red eyes, now more that ever reminding of the colour of fresh blood. Lord Mortimer vaguely remembered noticing prince’s eyes before and he was sure they weren’t that obviously red back then, he had thought they were just a really odd shade of brown and only appeared red due to light. What a naive thought that was!
His long black hair on the other side didn’t need any excuses to not appear suspicious. It was a tradition in mystic families for the male head of house to not wear their hair shorter than for shoulder blades while all the other men in the family should have their hair cut above shoulders. Varian himself kept his hair quite long to honour the old customs of his people. Who could have thought prince’s hair was no tradition but to just hide his big pointy ears?
More unforgivable to miss were the black marks on the back of prince’s forearms. Of course, the majority of humans and even werecats wouldn’t know how should the magic marks look like as mystics had to hide them in order to survive for generations. But Varian was a mystic, he surrounded himself with other mystics and also studied magic his whole life. He should have known that only demons and their hosts possessed black magic marks. To be fair, he did notice that and wanted to confront the prince about it, but then he saw him to use his magic and for a moment he was able to see his aura. There weren’t that many informations about demon hosts and many of those that did exist were just rumours, but there is one thing mentioned by all of the sources. Demons pick jaded individuals who feel like they have nothing to live for and nothing to loose any more. Those who gave up themselves and their magic which is then replaced by the dark demon power resulting in the host’s aura becoming black and lingering. Nothing like prince’s wild and passionate red one. Lord Mortimer felt really guilty about his decision to trust the aura and ignore all the other evidence.
If the older prince wasn’t possessed, he would be indistinguishable from his twin brother. When it comes to the face at least. Both of them had the exact same delicate features that could have been seen as stereotypically feminine by humans but typical for mystics regardless of sex. It was the face that was one of the clear giveaways of the brothers’ royal ancestry. One may even mistake them for metamorphs impersonating one of the late monarchs, it was unbelievable how so many of their features managed to survive. Even the legendary royal nose did not disappear over the years.
But from the neck down, the differences between the twins started to pile up. Carlyx was taller and more in shape than his brother. The muscles weren’t really noticeable under his clothes, his body was built more for speed and dexterity than raw strength. However, it was rather the strength he was known for. Magically lent by the demon, it was brutal and inhumane.
Prince’s fondness for all things dark and occult should have been another giveaway. No one who knew him could testify that they have seen him in other than black clothes. Not even now was he wearing a different colour which was at the very least odd. Black army uniform wasn’t quite fit for a general. Normally, a hierarchy in the army was shown through the uniform, from the lowest soldier wearing black uniforms through low ranking officers in grey to the highest ones in white. Black travel cloak was also a rare sight. Usually made out of the cheapest flax fabric without any added dye, nothing more expensive was worth it. They were not exactly made to last the longest they possibly could, their only purpose was to serve as a protection from the unpredictable weather while on longer journey. Dyed cloaks were custom made for an extra fee and are only worn as an accessory and a sign of wealth. Just the fact that prince not only had his travel cloak custom made, but is also wearing it as an ordinary one serving the initial purpose was both odd and a waste of money. Same decorative impressions was giving the chain attached to his belt while in truth it was used as a weapon that many throats had already tasted.
“Gentlemen, why the rush?” spoke the prince in a mocking tone, “I was hoping we would talk a bit like in the good old days. Over a cup of coffee, nice and calm. And you’re leaving already? What a shame!”
“How did he get in here?” whispered the governor to his two companions.
The prince tilted his head a little to the left before he answered: “I have my ways.”
General Kirby was worried over the reason why the prince haven’t attacked them yet. Yes, he was outnumbered, but they were clearly outmatched. Why delay a fight with results known beforehand?
As if the prince was reading general’s mind he said: “An office dweller, a healer and an orator against invincible mage and a martial master, that would have been no fun.”
“The most inflated of egos wouldn’t slow down a fall from such an immense height,” were the words which lord Mortimer regretted immediately after they left his mouth.
Mocking a demon is a dangerous game, especially if you have no chance to defend yourself against one. Governor Delon was a human who had spent his whole life in an office. General Kirby was mixed, but without any magical power. It was no secret that he was put into his position just for his tactical and persuasive skills, in direct combat he was in fact falling behind. And Varian Mortimer himself, a noble only by name and the only one of the three men gifted with magical abilities. He had dedicated his life to the Order and deepening his skills in healing magic. His knowledge about using magic for combat ends at theoretical level. A rather delicate man in the equivalent of the human late 40s who’s life for the most part consisted of seeking knowledge and raising his only daughter.
But the prince just smiled and said: “I have no intentions to fall.”
The prince’s obvious serenity over the whole situation had woken the inner diplomat in the blue army’s general. “We can’t offer you a cup of coffee, but talking wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
The fake sympathy in prince’s expression told everything even before he confirmed it by saying: “I’m afraid it’s too late for that now. My surveillance unit is already in the palace and it’s only a matter of time when they manage to open the gates. In fact, if everything went as planned, my second in command should be in the courtyard with a hundred warriors now as we speak.” So that’s how it was! He just came to hold them for a while and humiliate them.
The first one to attack was the governor. Before everyone could process the fact that they’re now prisoners of war, he took general’s sword right from the scabbard and went directly for the prince’s head. General nor the mage could believe what they were seeing. What in the name of Alumia was Delon even thinking?! Trying to take the life of a trained fighter with a weapon he was wielding for the first time ever! According to everyone’s expectations, he failed. Prince needed only one move with his bare hand to block the attack, second to disarm the governor and take the sword and finished it with a kick in the abdomen that sent him to the ground. With a cocky smile he swirled the sword in the air and said to the governor writhing in pain on the ground: “You office rat should learn how to use a sword before initiating sword fights.”
Lord Mortimer made a move in the governor’s direction, but the prince stopped him as he pointed the sword towards his throat. “One more step and you’re dead,” he said.
Mortimer was a healer, no warrior. But despite that, he sure had his moments. Even though the revolution was about to erupt for the last several years, all of the events leading to it were nothing but a barrels stacked with a gunpowder. It needed a spark to ignite those barrels and finally initiate the fight for freedom. And that spark ended up being a slap which lord Mortimer gave to the then northern governor, because he made fools out of people whom he promised to give basic human rights. To prevent a healer from possibly saving life – who may know how powerful that kick was and what it actually did to the governors insides – was much bigger reason to attack for a man like Varian. Same as back then after he ignited the revolution, general Kirby offered him a helping hand. But instead of an offered shelter where he could hide from the government it now was a literal hand on the healer’s shoulder giving him the much needed peace of mind.
Mortimer was tense, he took a deep breath to calm himself more before he faced the demon again. “Let me examine him, it’s my duty as a healer,” he raised his voice a bit, “Please.”
Yency frowned. He gave an angry stare to lord Mortimer, then looked at the governor still on the floor suffering with pain and returned his eyes to Mortimer. Kirby noticed he twitched for a second trying not to look at the doors to their left. And right after that, he also heard the noise coming from the other side of the door.
“You will have plenty of time for that in a shared cell.”
The doors had violently opened and through them came a crowd of soldiers lead by a short light haired man. Yency’s second in command. Before the soldiers filled out the whole room, the door on the other side also opened and a much smaller and more disciplined group came through them. The surveillance unit lead by their infamous chief. One of the few Yency’s commandants that aroused the same amount of respect and fear in people as the prince himself. The only part of their body not covered was their face, sallow with a bit flat nose right in the middle, lips held in tight permanent line and a black hair creating an edge around the emotionless face. The most noticeable part were their eyes, one blue, the second green, always watching you no matter where you are. There were rumours about the surveillance chief, that they were born without a tongue. No one ever heard them speak, that one’s for sure. Not that they needed words to command their unit, just the way they looked at their subordinates were enough to say everything they needed to.
“They’re yours, Nicolai,” said the prince to the short blonde and left the scene with the escort of the surveillance chief.