A Tale of Two Kingdoms

Her father had stayed home, pleading exhaustion and so off they all went; her step mother Sara, Sophia her Aunt who-wasn't-really-an-aunt and her step sister Dana. And of course, her little brother Madsen.

After traipsing around the dozenth fabric and dress store, Ysabel finally reached her limit and announced that she would take her brother to the places he wished to visit and that they would all meet again in a short while, an arrangement which none of her female relations had paid much mind to.

"Well, come on, you," Ysabel sighed, looking down at her moon eyed sibling who strained against her hand to run to the nearest food stall.

*

An hour later, weaving between the hurrying and busy locals, Ysabel and her brother started to make their way back in the direction of the garment section of the marketplace but their attention was caught as a muffled murmur broke out amongst the tradesmen and shoppers.

Curious, Ysabel rose on her tiptoes, her bare feet warm on the sun heated ground as she tried to spy the cause for the excitement but it was useless. She was typically short as any Naru and these Sydnam's seemed almost gigantic in comparison "There seems to be some sort of a commotion," she shrugged. "perhaps a performance of some kind?"

"Lets go and see!" her brother pulled at her hand, apparently just as uneager to rejoin the family as she. With a resigned but playful smile she agreed and they followed behind the crowd of people who wandered away from their perusal of various stalls in an excited shuffle.

"Make way!" a firm call rang out just as Ysabel grabbed a tighter hold of her brother's wrist as they were carried forward by the sea excited folk around them.

"Clear a path in the centre, if you will," the masculine voice continued in commanding tones.

Straining on her toes, Ysabel could just about see the man in question who was uniformed in dark blue and emerald green, the colours of the kingdom. He held his arms out, gesturing for a path to be made by the crowds of curious people and they soon complied, albeit reluctantly, stepping back until a narrow pathway was created.

"Oh, this is hopeless; neither of us will be able to see a thing -- let's turn back and-"

But before she could finish, Madsen was pulling tightly on her hand and dragging her forward toward the front of line of the crowd, weaving his way between the distracted folk who hardly noticed the two small figures.

"What is it?" Madsen called excitedly over the noise. "Can you see?"

"It sounds like horses," Ysabel craned her neck but fast gave up. "Perhaps it's a royal procession of some sort?"

"Step a few paces back those at the front, unless you want your toes crushed," the uniformed man advised sternly but his voice was mostly drowned out by the excited chatter and Ysabel tried to extract certain conversations from the other.

"Do you think it's The Executioner's regiment?" one enthusiastic man speculated.

"Of course not -- what would he be doing here?" another dismissed.

"- could have been summoned to the palace."

"-everyone knows how much he despises the royals -- he's always refused such calls so far," another rejoined. "He missed the king's birthday celebrations despite his whole regiment being invited. My brother told me -- he's a head cook in the royal kitchens."

"Did that man say The Executioner?" Madsen murmured excitedly, his eyes wide as moons.

Ysabel asked on a sardonic arch of her brow "Yes - why, do you know him?"

"Everyone knows him, Belle," he shook his head in disgust. "He's only the leader of the highest regiment in the Sydnam army. But no one really knows much about him I suppose -- he's not like other solider who seek fame for their deeds. Apparently, though, he's a cruel old man, who lusts for blood and carnage."

"Carnage is right," a male voice interrupted and Ysabel and her brother glanced up curiously.

"It was The Executioner who singularly handled the uprising between Sydnam and Balaris two years ago...a true warrior, that. Cruel he may be - but a man has to be to defend his country," he looked down the heaving crowd proudly at that, in the direction of the approaching hooves. "It's said he slew thirty men in thirty seconds when the Balaris launched an unprovoked attack... a sight I'd pay to see, I tell you," he finished on an impassioned declaration.

Ysabel shuddered at the gruesome picture he pained just as the first horses came into view.

Stiff, uniformed men sat on huge stallions as they negotiated their way along the narrow path to the accompaniment of cheers and merriment; and each uniformed man looked just as thoroughly bewildered as the next at the reaction of the townsfolk.

"It's him!" a shrill disembodied voice gasped some rows back and Ysabel followed the collective stare of those around her to the horse approaching. And promptly cringed away.

"The Executioner! It must be; look at the scar on his cheek, that's him I tell you," the same voice screeched.

The cruel faced man just before them seemed as though he could easily have earned such a name as The Executioner...he looked utterly savage. Long knotted hair, heavily sun darkened skin and a face slashed all over by scars and nics -- with a deep, ugly, pigmented one on his left side. The man who was forced to stop and bring his horse under control at the obstruction of the excited revel before him was positively vulgar and at the imposing, menacing vision, Ysabel tightened her grip around her brother's wrist in reaction.

"Carver," his barking voice rang out then but was drowned out amongst the gaiety of the crowd and the uniformed man who had initially herded the crowd clipped past Ysabel's feet and hurried to the man's side.

Well, at least she and Madsen had a good standing position here, right in the thick of it to hear this infamous man's conversation which no doubt many within the crowd would pay to hear.

"He's very large," Madsen commented thoughtfully. "I suppose one would have to be to wield such a heavy sword," he pointed to the sharp instrument strapped across his back.

"He's hideous is what he is," Ysabal rejoined under her breath, cringing playfully at her brother before both siblings glanced back quickly at the sight scant feet from them so as not to miss a thing. It would certainly be a tale for her brother to being back for his chums. No doubt he would walk about with a puffed out chest for weeks.

"-I'm trying to, Sir -- but the crowd are over-excited," the beleaguered solider explained nervously in response to the biting question delivered by the man.

"I'd never have thought there would be such chaos," the burly, scarred Sydnam ran an impatient hand though his hair. The man, who, according to the collective crowd who seemed to know his life's ins and out, had fought numerous bloody fights with ease yet found this, a crowd of cheering, proud people a bewildering torment. "We should have waited until night to cross through. What do they want, anyway?" he bit out then, looking about warily, a harassed expression passing over his hard features.

And then, before she realised what was happening, Madsen was racing out of Ysabel's grasp and rushing the few feet across to the Sydnam's horse.

"They wish to greet you, sir," Carver lifted his shoulders, waving a hand and shooing the boy away who had, as yet, gone unnoticed by The Executioner.

"Please, sir!"

Ysabel chewed nervously on her lower lip at her brother's close proximity to the horse's hind legs. One foul movement of those legs and the boy would be on the ground and irreparably marred.

As Madsen reached to tug on the soldier's booted foot to get his attention, the horse jerked and Ysabel scuttled across the space to the horse's side and grabbed at her brother's skinny arm, pulling the small body toward her, a firm curse on her lips at his recklessness.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed, boy?" the soldier's voice was curt as he controlled the horse swiftly. "Carver -- move the crowd back; I haven't time for this -- this is ridiculous!"

"But-!" At the childish pleading, he finally granted the boy the attention he craved, his eyes narrowed and hard.

"I only wanted you to sign my arm! Please, Mr -- Excutio -- uh..."

But the solider dismissed the boy's embarrassment and looked past him at the wary, turquoise eyes regarding him and his eyes took on a thoughtful look that was equal parts assessing, equal parts appreciative.

"And did you want something signed, too, sweetheart?" he queried, his deep voice rumbling in some humour -- albeit stiff humour -- as his brow cocked.

He leaned forward in his saddle, his teeth showing deliciously white against his darkened skin and the smile pulled at the heavy scar running diagonally across his left eyebrow and the disfigurement gave his appearance a menacing look.

Ysabel shivered.

"- right here on my arm," Madsen held out the skinny arm in question and shoved it between the passing glace between Ysabel and the solider, "Just sign it there," he insisted.

Looking away from Ysabel with some reluctance, the Sydnam sighed heavily and called his man forward and asking for a writing instrument, relented to the boy's demand as he held a narrow wrist and signed right him across the forearm.

Critically surveying the handiwork, Madsen nodded once, grinned, and raced out of Ysabel's arms, crowing as he went but the soldier's past antipathy at the delay seemed to be momentarily forgotten and he smiled slightly, his eyes bright.

"Come," he commanded with a wave of his hand and Ysabel approached the scant few steps submissively, feeling somewhat dazed, until she stood millimetres from him.

"Were we alone," he said in low tones as he signed the inside of her arm, "I'd put my brand somewhere else entirely. But I may get the chance yet," he added softly, before releasing her arm and Ysabel's stare was still firmly on his hand as it had been since she'd approached to snatch Madsen.

"Damon?" she murmured, feeling bemused and the soldier's grey eyes narrowed in startled bewilderment before the look was replaced by anger.

"What did you just call me?" his voice was deceptively low and calm yet even through the noise of the crowd, Ysabel could hear the bite in it. "Who they hell are you?"

At the biting demand, Ysabel jerked in surprise, coming out of her daze.

He made to grab at her arm but she quickly stepped back and took advantage of the excited crowd by running headlong in to them, becoming lost within the sweaty people as soon as her first foot stepped inside the human wall.

She heard the masculine call as she ran and searched for Madsen, demanding her to return but it was lost and muffled as the noise of the crowd drowned him out.

Panting, Ysabel slipped out of the last of the people back to the less crowded stall area and looking around frantically, finally spotted Madsen showing off his arm to a group of boys.

Walking the short distance over to her grinning brother, Ysabel felt dazed. She took his arm and guided him back to the garment district.

Had she passed him by in a market place -- crowded or otherwise -- she would not have recognised him. Neither would she have recognised Damon now had it not been for that lovingly but battered looking grey beaded bracelet securely fastened around his wrist.

*

Ysabel sat on her bed, staring at her arm and the few scribbled words marked there. Unlike at home, she had a room of her own here and didn't have to suffer through the painful experience of sharing with her nasally challenged sister.

A maid knocked once then and entered at Ysabel's absent call.

"I have your freshly washed clothing here," she held up a stack of clothing and placed it at the foot of Ysabel's bed before turning to depart.

"Wait-" Ysabel looked at her wrist hesitantly before taking the glance up to the woman "I wonder -- could you tell me where Warris Archway is? Number four, to be precise?"

The maid raised dubious brows. "Oh, that's in the south of the city, Miss...but I wouldn't go there were I you...there're no fancy garment shops or anything of the sort."

"That's all right," Ysabel affected an indifferent look. "I wasn't planning on venturing to that part of the city I was merely...curious."

The maid nodded and gave Ysabel an inquisitive glance then, for she knew this girl she was to serve wasn't like the other one who was a proper little madam, looking down her prim nose at the house staff.

Ysabel sighed and buried her head into her pillow once the maid had departed. Well, there was nothing for it. She had to go. There was really no other option; after all this damned curiosity was truly eating at her. Could it really be him? Damon? That same boy? That the skinny, short boy with his severely parted hair and bony face had turned into that towering man with his untidy hair and uncouth appearance was mystifying. And then the story of the man in the crowd assailed her mind once more -- no, she couldn't believe that the Damon she had once known was that feared man she had spied today.

*

Ysabel stared at the darkened ceiling intently. The house had quietened down some hours ago but she was wary yet. The urgent, pulling curiosity within her, however, saw her across the room and tiptoeing down the stairs in no time at all. Pulling a cape over her gown, she was halfway out of the door when a warm palm on her arm made her start violently.

Peering into the darkened hallway of her Aunt's house, Ysabel stared at the tall form before her.

"I'm sorry, miss," the whispered voice said, "but I couldn't let you go without telling you," and with that, the maid dragged her out of the house and led her covertly down the empty path.

*

"You scared me," Ysabel shook her head, the moonlight highlighting the maids face and revealing her nervousness.

"Sorry -- but I had to come and warn you again," she insisted, "you see my sister is more familiar with the royal city so I asked her about this place you mentioned-- well, when I mentioned the specific number and address, she seemed surprised. 'That's where I'm headed off tonight,' she says to me. but you see, she's a -- well, a dancing girl," even in the darkness Ysabel could see the woman's embarrassment. "it's the lodgings reserved for the kings soldiers, whenever they're summoned here. ...that's what I wanted to tell you - it'll be full of the Kings men and they're not a polite bunch," she drew her shoulders up. "It's no place for a lady such as yourself."

Ysabel lifted her shoulders helplessly. "Thank you for telling me -- but I'll be alright, really" she nodded then, appreciatively, before saying a brief farewell but the sharp exclamation from the woman stayed her.

"You're still going...oh, it's just as I thought -- you're to meet a sweetheart, aren't you?"

Eyes narrowed at the nervous maid, Ysabel contemplated her answer. "Yes," she said then, slowly. "Yes I am -- you won't tell anyone, will you? only it'll be a last farewell and I won't ever see him again after this."

The maid assured that she would not tell anyone. "An army lad, hmm? Well, they're never wont to settle down, you know, so you're making the best choice."

Wringing her hands, the maid looked back at the darkened house and then at Ysabel before sighing. "I can't let you go on your own -- a fine lady like you. I will accompany you," she nodded decisively.

Ysabel shook her head quickly, not wanting to involve her. Or have someone she was forced to talk to until she arrived there, someone who would make her realise she was making a stupid decision in even going -- she, an unmarried girl, out for the night. Sheer scandal. On the up side, at least she wasn't going unchaperoned.

*

The street was narrow and cobbled with lit torches placed along the many narrowed walls of the buildings. There was a tavern opposite and a few men spilled out, their moods merry, but it was only a little after one yet and relatively quiet as the night was still young for the sorts who frequented the south of the city.

Knocking gingerly on the door, she was brushed aside by Corine who thumped once, loudly, on the heavy door before stepping back a pace with an expectant expression on her face.

"You keep your wits about you, now, you hear? I'll be in the tavern if you need me."

Turning decisively away as the older woman crossed the narrowed street on a fast shuffle, eager to enter the warmth of the tavern, Ysabel turned back and stared at the door with hard eyes and as it opened wide, stepped back, her nose wrinkling in distaste. The waft of air that hit her face was musty and humid.

Cracking one eye open she peered into the darkened door wary warily before her eyes adjusted to the light eyes assessing her sternly and she straightened abruptly.

"This is number four, is it not?"

"Depends who's asking," a gruff voice relayed.

Arching an unimpressed brow, Ysabel replied, "Well I'm here to see..." what was his surname? She could hardly say 'Mr Executioner' like Madsen had in the marketplace. She thought of her brother and wanted to laugh then; what would he say if he knew where she had crept off to tonight whilst he slept a wonderful sleep, dreaming no doubt about the meeting with his idol?

She took a steadying breath and announced with a confidence she was far from feeling, "I'm here to see Damon."

The man lifted his shoulders indifferently. "Never 'erd of him."

Ysabel frowned suspiciously at him. "Fine -- I'm looking for The Executioner."

"That's what they all say," he relayed, unimpressed and dismissing her fully, about to shut the door on her toes.

The all in question became quite clear then as a trio of muskily scented females barged past her, unsettling her slightly as they sashayed past the guardsman who offered no demur.

"Dancing girls," Ysabel murmured running wide, fascinated eyes over their attire.

"We prefer to keep it simpler around here; 'whores' does just fine," the man laughed roughly.

Shuddering, Ysabel tried again. "Look, I was asked to come here specifically by him. Truly!" she tacked on angrily at his doubtful once over of her person.

She bit out an exclamation, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. "You know, he will be mightily sore if he finds out about this -- indeed, I will be sure to tell him how-"

The man curt sign of impatience halted her and though irritated at her ploy, he also looked a trifle more focused and...wary. "Exactly how do you know him?"

"Now that's a rather a stupid question, is it not?" at his lack of any visible reaction or response, Ysabel bit out impatiently, "Do I need to spell it out for you, ham-head?"

Scowling at her, the man looked over his shoulder, in the darkness of the corridor behind him before turning back to her and she pressed the tentative advantage, almost desperate now to get in, if not to spy Damon then to glimpse a peek at this well protected, elite space.

"Look, you know how he hates to be kept waiting -- if it turns out I'm lying, you may personally throw me out by the scruff of my neck," she nodded encouragingly at his weakening scowl.

Scratching his jaw thoughtfully, he murmured. "...but whores are always trying to lure the commander and there are strict orders that their stories are not to be entertained."

"Well, fine. Risk his wrath, why don't you. I suppose I'll be off, then. Give him my love, won't you," she pivoted on a bare foot.

"Alright! Alright! In." he grabbed her indelicately by the forearm. "And you'd best not be pulling a fast one over me, girl."

Ysabel cringed away from his spitting threat and walked away in some relief as the burly guardsman closed and bolted the door behind her, enveloping her in the darkness of the space without the light from the torches and tavern to see by. She had not yet taken two steps before her cape was ripped from her shoulders.