Redamancy Ch. 12-13

Chapter Twelve

Syriaca fell to his knees as he watched his king perish before him.

This couldn't be. Cassius can't be dead. Tears stung his eyes as he saw his dearest friend fade from life. His cold, dead eyes stared straight into Syriaca's as Thalanil twisted Cassius's head his way before his body slumped to the ground. The air escaped his middle and the world dropped from beneath his feet. His heart ached and his middle tightened. He couldn't believe what happened. His king was stronger than that. How could Cassius have been beaten so easily? Matter of fact, why had he been defeated?

He just lost his brother.

The rest of the Thirteen gasped mutually and Leuce held back a scream but not before he allowed his dinner to end up on the cavern's ground. With the wild mob around them, no one would ever notice.

They all glanced at one another, their faces in complete and utter shock at what just happened. How could this be? They knew he was a strong Broslan, one who was powerful and harbored great magic. Surely, this was a vision, something not real. King Cassius could not die. He wasn't allowed to die.

Not one of them uttered his name for they knew this night wouldn't end well.

However, one must inform the king's sister. She had to know that she was now the only heir to the throne. That she was queen. That Ieslal was now hers for the taking with her dreadful husband.

Syriaca rose and braced himself for what was to come as he nodded to the youngest of the Thirteen, Mayce, a boy no older than eight and ten. He would be the messenger. He would be the deliverer of the terrible news. He would be the one Velorina hated when she was to learn of her brother's demise. He would be the blame.

With tightened lips, Mayce saluted slightly before he took off.

So, this was death?

It wasn't so bad. Cassius felt time slow as his face was thrown to the side. His eyes scanned over the crowd, all a blur of dark figures. The pain was subtle and quick; nary did it hurt.

He saw Syriaca's pale face and could detect the tears that threatened to fall. He watched Leuce empty his stomach onto the ground. He noticed Dreven place a hand over his mouth to hide his face. How could he leave them behind? Leave his sister behind?

How could he- the slave girl?

She crossed his mind, her violet eyes shining in the moonlight. And there, there she was, hiding behind Leuce, a broken and solemn look on her face. Why was she here? There was something off about her, an abnormality and exclusivity that seemed to shroud her very being.

Was this what he wanted? What his heart truly desired?

A slave?

"Cassius..." a voice whispered on the wind.

"My love, Cassius," the voice moaned and he felt the sadness seep into his bones. Gods, it hurt. She seemed so lonely and forlorn.

He wanted to weep as the voice began crying his name, over and over again. Was this an epiphany? Should he change? Or was this the future? Who was crying out for him during this time? During this darkness? So many questions raced through his mind, so many voices. Were they of his ancestors? The ones who possessed great magic?

A fire erupted in his veins and his muscles began twitching.

His body was giving in to his ultimate fate. He could feel the stiffness of his joints as they locked into place. But this seemed too rapid.

In his mind, Cassius crossed his brows and shook his head. He could feel his life force ebbing away, could feel his body withering into absolutely nothing, into a deep voice of blackness and death. He allowed his mind to cease its wandering, prattling thoughts as he slipped into oblivion.

Mayce's breath slowed by the time he made it to the castle.

He had ran the whole way, his thin legs carrying him with the breeze. He was small and fast; that's why he was perfect for being the king's bodyguard.

One would think that King Cassius preferred muscular men and he obtained them in the Thirteen but it was something about Mayce's build that had Cassius accepting him. He wasn't like the others; he didn't grow up with the king. Instead, he was a farm boy, who just so happened knew how to fight.

Mayce smiled sadly at the memory of when he met Cas for the first time.

Six years ago, Mayce was backed in alley by three large Broslan men. Obviously, these Broslans were looking for an innocent young man however, Mayce wasn't about to have any of that.

He had stood over their downed bodies, simply knocked unconscious, when the king's entourage passed by. Cassius seemed curious as to how the boy took down three Broslans much stockier and bigger than he. He was impressed, to say the least, as Cassius had offered him a place amongst his warriors as just a humble squire until Mayce would grow in size and bulk.

To Cassius's surprise, Mayce only lengthened, never spread out. But nevertheless, Cassius instilled his faith upon him when he was invited on a Midnight Ride two years prior where Mayce had four brutes of bandits on his own.

Cassius's look of pride had completely warmed his heart and Mayce knew he'd found a wonderful friend in his king.

Now, it felt like he lost his whole world as he marched up the stairs to the grand entrance. He'd lost a marvelous friend and brother. The kingdom lost a great leader; he was considered by far the best king Ieslal has ever had even with his strict laws. Faces of the gods were etched into the threshold surrounding the double doors, their looks of judgement raining down upon who dared look at them. Mayce felt uncomfortable for a moment when he locked gazes with dead god.

A heavy heart ached in his chest when waltzed through, in search of the king's sister. She would be devastated. To say her heart will be broken would be an understatement. The royal siblings had a bond like no other; they were of a closeness that rivaled even twins. Granted, they hadn't seen one another in years but the two never once faltered in the absence.

Mayce passed the throne room where King Cassius would no longer reside in. He passed the grand dining corridor where the king would no longer feast. He passed the conference room where King Cassius would no longer make ultimate decisions on war and peace.

His king would no longer step foot on the stone flooring where his home sat.

Up the stairs to the Royals Wing, Mayce tapped lightly on the solid wooden door. He noticed the flickering of light coming from beneath it before a young maiden gingerly cracked the door. She was beautiful and frail, her blonde locks falling in pieces around her angular face. She must be some sort of elf. With no mind to that, Mayce tried to push his way through.

"I must speak with Lady Velorina," he murmured in a rushed tone. Soon to be Queen Velorina, he added as a thought.

The elf girl chewed on her bottom lip. "She's indisposed at the moment, I'm afraid."

Mayce placed a boot in between the gap as the girl tried to close the door on him. "It's about the king," he gritted out. He must have had a worried look on his face as she looked down and fought some inner battle. Her brows scrunched together before she nodded minutely.

"My lady, one of the king's men is here. He needs to speak with you."

Mayce groaned inwardly at the possibility of leaking the news to every gossiping wench in the kingdom. Thank the gods however as Lady Velorina only had two maidens with her in her chambers. He nodded his thanks to the girl as he approached the now queen.

"My lady," he dropped to one knee and placed his forearm over his black chest plate.

Lady Velorina sat up in her lavish, four poster bed, her belly extending beyond the sheets that formed around it. Gods, how many babes was she carrying? "Mayce, is it?" Her tone was sweet and kind, not one fit for leadership. She wasn't ruthless and uncaring; she was quite the opposite.

"Yes, my lady," he muttered.

She smiled a radiant grin and motioned for him to stand. "You don't have to bow for me. I'm not like my wretched brother," she joshed and the two other women guffawed.

Mayce's lips tugged but his heart sank.

Lady Velorina immediately took notice. "My, what is it? What's happened to him?"

She didn't mean her husband and Mayce picked up on that.

"The king is dead, your highness."

Chapter Thirteen

Joy ran through Toros' veins.

"Dead? The king is dead?!" He practically screamed with both surprise and happiness when he found out earlier that night.

His plan worked? Of course, by complete coincidence that Thalanil broke the king's neck the same night Toros slipped something into the king's goblet. Not poison or anything deadly; no, it was an herb to make him weak and lose his senses. To be perfectly honest, Toros was praying that Cassius would become disoriented and perhaps fall from his balcony. Never did he think that someone else would do the job.

He almost felt envious of the brute.

He was surrounded by a select few who despised King Cassius in the conference room of the castle. He'll rename it to the War Room as he planned on attacking Drovalor and Edrein. He wanted Asna to himself. Iselal wasn't enough; he had to have it all.

The coronation would be in a fortnight but he was pushing for sooner. After all, Ieslal did need an immediate monarch and according to the laws, he was now king. Aye, he married into the royal family but, his wife was still gestating and would not be fit to rule an entire country. So, Lord Toros was now King Toros.

"Just falls right off of the tongue, doesn't it?" He asked aloud.

Curious faces of generals, lowly lords, and advisors glanced at him. One even had the gall to question him. "What does, my lord?"

"It's your highness," he hissed.

A few nervous chuckles erupted from his audience. "If he is actually dead, then where is the body?" One hefty Broslan asked, placing a hand on where his hip should be. "Besides, my lord, your wife will be the one to gain access to the throne. Not you."

More laughter.

Toros grew red. "I am her husband and she will do as I tell her."

Another Broslan spoke up. "Queen Velorina would never allow such a thing!"

"He's surely gone mad!"

"The Duke of the Westlands? Honestly!"

An uproar was rising and so was Toros' temper. "Enough!" He shouted over the laughter and snickers. "Velorina," he sneered, purposely not calling her by her rightful title. "Is not in her right mind to rule. I will convince her to hand the reigns over to me. You'll see," he threatened.

The room grew silent until the laughter began again.

"King Toros?"

"Can you imagine?"

With his cheeks red, Toros left the room in a huff. Oh, he would prove them wrong.

Velorina looked positively uncomfortable on the silver throne as she tried it out.

Her belly seemed to be squeezing the life out of her very being and she was perspiring, her body overheating due to supporting an extra life.

She smiled slightly when she felt a kick from the babe. Sure, she hadn't wanted to be pregnant because now she was tied for forever to a man she despised but, she couldn't blame her child. He had no idea what his father was like and she wouldn't allow to him know.

A few maidens stood off to the side, their hands clasped together in front of them. Two female slaves were just behind them and, as her first order as queen, she would emancipate the lucky chosen ones and have them be her ladies in waiting. Queen Velorina felt good in her mind and she smiled despite the distraught and sadness that shook her body.

She'd lost her brother just a little over a week ago.

Their bond was broken and she felt empty inside save for her babe. Cassius will be deeply missed and she wanted nothing more than to mourn him however, a kingdom needed to be ran.

She hadn't seen hide nor hair of her husband in days and she preferred it that way. She wanted to be alone as she adjusted to her new title, to her new life. Quite frankly, at the moment, she possessed more power than Toros did and she loved that fact.

He was probably off galivanting with some street whore to get his fill in. Well, better her than Velorina to be quite honest.

In a smaller seat sitting adjacent to her sat a fluffy red pillow and, on top of that, was her crown. Molded to fit a female Broslan perfectly, it was bronze and silver intertwined, almost like vines. Three spires jutted from the middle, each spire adorned with adequately sized sunstones. The jewels caught the light just right and sprinkled down on her wrapped feet, allowing the light material to glisten in the waning sunlight.

Her near sheer purple gown flowed over the throne's seat and onto the stone floor to pool at the bottom. She felt regal even though she knew she looked atrocious. Swollen hands and cheeks, red patches lined her skin.

Velorina had quite the reputation in Ieslal of being the most beautiful Broslan but, with her pregnancy, she'd lost her looks as he body adjusted for her growing child.

She glanced up from the crown and saw one of the slave girls eyeing her with curiosity. Having recognized her from the banquet just a few nights prior, she beckoned the violet eyed girl over with a flick of her chin.

"What is your name?" She asked the girl after the slave took a bow.

The slave looked around, no doubt used to the previous monarch's ruthless laws. "D-devyn," she squeaked and tucked her chin to her chest.

"Devyn...?" Velorina drew out.

"Morneheure, your highness," she curtsied. Just then, a forlorn look crossed Devyn's face and Velorina immediately felt uneasy.

"How long have you been a slave?" Velorina felt the need to protect the poor girl and she had no idea why. It was almost as if she had experienced such heartache the queen herself did. Had she lost it all, as well? Was she just as pathetic as the rest of them were? Flesh bags concealing their identity but controlled by emotions?

This time, Devyn looked up to meet her eyes. "Two years, your highness."

"And, did my brother buy you?"

A small nod before Devyn muttered, "Yes."

"Hmm. Well, he's g-gone," she stammered and composed herself by inhaling sharply.

The honoring of the king had taken place three days ago; she ought to be over it by now. But she wasn't. That was her brother for gods' sakes! It would take a lifetime to forget him. In Broslan tradition, they had covered his body with the tapestries of their family line and set it ablaze. His ashes sat in a small ornate jar by her bedside.

A lonely tear slipped out before she took Devyn's hand.

"Devyn Morneheure, I hereby free of your slavery and wish to grant you a place among my ladies," she gestured to the other female Broslans standing idly by. "What say you?"

At the mention of freedom, she noticed Devyn's face lit up but only to fall again as she came to understand that she might not ever leave Ieslal. After a beat passed, Devyn inhaled sharply before bowing slightly and whispering, "I'd be honored, your highness."

It's not that Velorina wanted to undo everything her brother had done; she simply wanted to better the lives of those he virtually destroyed. Slavery will be outlawed and she will take down the walls that shrouded their kingdom in darkness. For once, in over ten years, Ieslal will finally be able to shine and prove its worth.

King Cassius hadn't done a poor job. He was just a bit controlling was all. And, Velorina would make sure that her time spent as queen would make up for what he'd done.

First thing's first, however.

"Devyn Morneheure, you need a bath."