by G M Archer
The princess gave a faltering bow, wobbling in her platform heels, hissing in labored breaths from the struggle she was having with her over-tightened corset.
She spoke slowly, thoughtfully but timidly, “Your Majesty,” she drew in a breath, “Indeed, what an honor it is, sir. To visit Forscythe and you especially,” she trailed off, looking at him with an expression almost pleading for him to fill the silence thereafter.
“Yes, indeed,” he started, and eyed the line of women behind her, all glaring at each other and her.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off the awkwardness, and cleared his throat, speaking clearly and quickly, “I hope each one of you enjoy your stay in Forscythe, don’t let me waste your time, when there is so much of the city to see, especially if you are pursuing love interests. I recommend the architecture tours and the opportunities to observe the innovations of Icarus Industries. Do have a wonderful time.”
He turned away from the shaking of heads and slow reactions to correct him, an actual smile on his face at Basil’s panic.
“Sir,” Basil gritted through a smile, “I think you misunderstand the nature of their visit.”
Varrick’s smirk only grew, “Oh, I did? Hm, well whatever it is, I’m sure they don’t need me hindering their experience.”
Just when Basil turned so red Varrick thought he might explode, the Princess stepped forward.
“Your company would never be a waste of time, especially considering how willing I- we are to strengthen ties and find a bachelor as attractive as you-” she blurted out, immediately embarrassed by it, closing her mouth with a furious blush.
Varrick turned slightly, speaking with a pleasant but indifferent tone, “I appreciate the thought. Thank you all for your visit, and best of luck finding similarly eligible men!” he gave a wave as he pivoted on the heel and walked out.
Basil was a livid shade of scarlet as he scrabbled after him, hands out as if he desired to physically restrain Varrick.
Varrick got quite a ways in front of him, the Guild knights trailing at their typical annoying distance.
“King Varrick!” Basil wadded his hands into fists, huffing as he jogged to catch up.
“What?” Varrick said coolly.
Basil went straight into lecturing, “Not only would a marriage result in stronger alliances, but a queen would be a figure of maternal guidance for the populous! A kind and warm image they could look to in rough times like these! And heirs, Varrick! You need children to inherit-”
“I do not have time for a wife,” Varrick said simply.
“You do not need to, the castle has servants to entertain her!” Basil threw his hands in the air.
Varrick curled his lip, “I desire no such relationship.”
“Don’t be foolish, you can’t ever have a marriage based on love. This isn’t a fairy tale, Varrick!” Basil stopped in Varrick’s glare.
“I cannot have a wife because I’m currently completely concerned with raising an army to fight a dragon,” Varrick said.
Basil rolled his eyes, “And yet you have time to quote some ancient poem or whatnot in a metaphoric sense referencing the Terminus Empire to avoid arguing with me.”
“No, actually I’m done arguing with you,” Varrick snapped his keyring off his belt, unlocking the door to his hall and immediately slammed it in Basil’s face.
He stalked down his hall, up the stairs and unlocking the double doors to his room. He entered his sitting room, slumping against the door.
Breathing deeply, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off his growing headache. He pushed off the door, walking to his study. Hearing movement he jerked his head upward, drawing his rapier at the same time.
“Lafayette!” Varrick slammed the sword back in its sheath.
“I’ve heard that’s what people call me. You look awful, Varrick, have you considered something like sleeping?” he flashed a smile, blowing a dark hair out of his face, swirling around the bottle he held.
“Thank you for the advice, if only I could spare the time for frivolous things like sleep,” Varrick’s eyes were drew to his liquor, “What are you drinking? Is that Elderberry Wine!? That’s from my mother’s funeral, you b-”
Lafayette hoisted the bottle into the air, “What better way to honor the dead than to indulge in mortal pleasures?! To Mary!”
“As if you would know anything about that,” Varrick growled, snatching for the wine.
Lafayette twirled his cane up and pushed the head of it into Varrick’s chest to keep him out of arm's reach.
With a ‘humph’ Varrick jerked away, the dragon’s head of the cane skittering across his breastplate.
“What have you been engaged with, Varrick? You look exhausted and enraged,” Lafayette took a swig.
“Maybe it’s because of you,” Varrick said indignantly.
“No, my presence is an enlightening thing that immediately brightens a room and touches people to their very soul,” Lafayette made a sweeping motion.
“You certainly have an effect on people,” Varrick growled, crossing his arms.
“You seemed exasperated when you walked in. Unless you’ve become a seer and predicted my arrival- which would be a useful trait- something else was troubling you,” Lafayette observed.
Varrick looked around, “Basil brought a long line of women here that desire to be my wife. Shame they wasted a trip.”
Lafayette chuckled, “Ah, yes, because you can’t tell anyone that you current love is absent without leave? What are you looking for?”
Varrick bristled, but answered him, “Do not mock me on such affairs. I’m trying to find the way you got in. Did the guards let you pass?”
“No,” Lafayette smirked.
“What wonderful security I have,” Varrick grumbled sarcastically, “They continue to prove themselves useless,” he started testing windows, gazing down at the impossible distance it was to the ground.
“You should just kill Basil,” Lafayette said flippantly, “If he continues to disappoint you.”
“Have you ever heard of the more casual practice of firing workers?” Varrick took his crown off and flung it across the desk, scattering papers, “Considering how well your execution ideas have worked already.”
“Only in death does someone cease to be a threat,” Lafayette said in a sing-song voice, and peered into the bottle.
Varrick continued to pace the room, looking into his bedchambers and the sitting area, “How did you get in!?”
Lafayette made a lazy motion to the balcony doors. Varrick’s head snapped to the unlocked door with an eyebrow raise. He flung the doors open, walking out to look off the balcony. A shock of orange hair far below brought his eyes to those of two different colors. He eyed the contraption beside the boy, looking just like a geometric box from where he was.
The boy waved and with a sly smile started signing things, hands flashing.
“I don’t know sign!” Varrick yelled down at him, and then realizing how little good that did, he turned to the doors to scream at Lafayette, “I don’t know what he’s trying to say and he knows it!”
With Varrick’s outburst he sent the ravens and his new resident pigeons into a fit, the birds crying out and caterwauling around his balcony.
“James?” Lafayette called, “Oh, he knows. I think he does it to make people feel guilty.”
As Varrick came back into the room, Lafayette started speaking again, “Did you see the latest marvel from my industries? A simple collapsible platform, no bigger than a shipping crate, but at the pull of a lever,” he imitated the motion, voice booming as if he were advertising to a crowd, “it expands into a tower several stories tall! Thus allowing any on it to quickly jump and scale an enemy wall, while the opposing side is still blundering about, wondering how they were conquered!”
“Did you test this? Can it be toppled easy?” Varrick shut the door, having been talking over the birds.
“No, Varrick,” he started sarcastically
, “I have no idea of its limitations that’s why I presented it to the king. I got in didn’t I?”
Varrick crossed his arms, “I’ll take that as a roundabout answer. Don’t sneak in with it anymore, and send it to the warfront.”
“Already done,” he put his feet on the desk, “I had to forge your signature of permission, I’m becoming very adept at it. Thanks for the consent. I will have you know that I would much rather break in so I don’t have to speak with those awful knights anyhow. I’ve always hated those idiots, especially after they branded that one man. Jeremiah?”
“Joseph,” Varrick said irritatedly, finally wrestling the bottle out of Lafayette’s hands.
“Yes, him,” Lafayette nodded, “So I’ve been doing some light reading,” he motioned around the desk.
Varrick stiffened slightly, “My confidential papers with other kingdoms?”
“Don’t you wish?” Lafayette chuckled.
Varrick tried not to sweat.
Lafayette picked up one of the small pieces of parchment, holding it up, displaying the two simple words.
“Don’t throw away your letters from our good friend in the west,” Lafayette said, voice dripping with malice, “frustratingly enough, it only makes him send more.”
Varrick took quick gulp of the liquor, “Are you not concerned? I am in a constant state of panic, Lafayette, I just thought you should know. I spend all day walking on eggshells, deathly afraid of failure. I’m in a fatal chess game.”
“Yes, I’m concerned,” Lafayette wound his hair through his fingers, “Mostly about these split ends.”
Varrick gave out a long growling sigh, “Do you care less with each decade, or century?”
Lafayette waved dismissively, “You’ve taken me off topic,” his lips twisted into a smirk as he motioned back to the desk, “I take more interest in your personal letters.”
“Hmm?” Varrick turned.
“How terribly irresponsible you must feel. I pity you, I do.”
Varrick glared at his patronizing tone.
“But your words, so riveting. You bleed sorrow out in ink. I love that, especially since they were addressed. All your different drafts of sentimental pleading, apologies linked to nostalgia, and then exquisitely tied together at the close by a riveting confession,” Lafayette motioned outwards, “You’re like a character in a play. I relish it.”
Varrick’s knuckles turned white on the neck of the bottle.
“That’s why I strapped it to one of your ravens and sent it to her,” Lafayette said nonchalantly.
“What!?” Varrick screamed, swinging the bottle at him. He jumped out of the chair in time, the bottle shattering and sending wine cascading over the chair and floor like blood.
Lafayette smoothly brushed his hat off and placed it back on his head, picking up his cane, “Relax, Varrick. It kills two birds with one stone. Get it, there are ravens involved. Ha, ha. I kill myself. I simply encouraged you to say what needed to be said, and it will bring her back. Doesn’t it feel better to know it’s confessed after you’ve been holding that in for so long?”
Varrick attempted to slow his breathing, the jagged bottleneck in his hand trembling, “How dare you,” his voice was a bear’s growl, “You had no right!”
“Actually, I do, Varrick,” his aloof laziness suddenly fell into a grim seriousness, “As much as you think Atlas means to you, you have no idea what she means to me.”
Chapter 13- Praised Only in Victory
The plains outside of Voltaren blazed by, whisking colors of gold, the Horn of Valor bouncing on my hip.
I’d affectionately named the rooster Ram, from a tale of an old warrior Joseph used to tell me. Ram had no reins, instead I discovered that he responded to me using my feet to steer him. It was a difficult system, but we were working it out.
Pulling the feathers of the rooster’s neck to stop him, I gazed down at the city. I had intended to leave him somewhere outside, but we’d drawn enough attention from the farmers on the way to town that inconspicuousness was basically irrelevant. On top of that, I didn’t know if he would run away if I left him. I didn’t think he would, but I wasn’t going to take the chance.
The square below was barren. I squinted searching for any sign of people. I couldn’t see anyone in the streets, the city seemed abandoned. That couldn’t be right. I urged Ram down the hill and into the main gates. He clicked his beak as his claws drummed on the cobblestone.
We entered the desolate main square, a cold breeze blowing through the empty streets. I looked up at the darkening clouded sky, thinking I could hear thunder distantly. I eyed the buildings as I directed Ram towards the clinic. Lights were on, smoke still rose from chimneys, and the tavern on the square had mugs and food on the tables.
So the city hadn’t been abandoned, or anything like such. The people had just vanished? I fought my rising anxiety, praying that Joseph and Alexandra were at the clinic. I jumped off Ram as we reached the aforementioned building.
“Stay here,” I said sternly, pointing down for good measure.
He rumbled out a cluck, and took to biting his foot. I took another glance at him and walked into the clinic. I searched the halls, the main office. A steaming kettle and a single teacup sit in the doctor’s office, but the rest of the place was empty. Joseph’s room had no proof that any of us were ever there, a bare cot and chair in the small space.
I had a sinking feeling as I walked back outside the clinic. Following Ram’s gaze, I caught a clamor of distant voices in the upper city.
I immediately slung myself back up into the saddle, “Go,” I said quickly, the rooster shooting off through the streets, and zipping through the alleys as if he knew them.
I gripped the handle of the saddle tight as he jumped, his huge wins flaring, and landed atop a one-story building, looking down on the hoard of people gathered at the base of the guard-tower. All the heads swiveled in my direction, the hush over the crowd breaking into shocked and questioning mutters.
At the head of the crowd were several guards, two on horseback and several standing, and I froze as I caught sight of the two people bound in their middle.
Joseph and Alexandra seemed similarly shocked to see me, mouths agape. Joseph was bare-chested, the brand over his heart exposed, the captain of the guard standing beside him, halted in giving some address.
The farmer rose above the crowd, hand outstretched towards me, “The plight of the branded brings forth the creature of the mark! A symbol of revolution!”
The voices of all present exploded into a crescendo of chaos, the people looking back and forth from the guards to me. Alexandra’s jaw was still slack, while Joseph had a smile teasing the corners of his mouth upwards.
A gunshot roared into the air, the crowd falling back into silence except for a few quick screams of shock.
The captain stepped forward, calm, the smoke from the barrel of his gun twisting off into the air, “Princess Atlas.”
“I do not know who you are so I cannot address you by name,” I spoke, watching Ram narrow his eyes.
“We will have time to get to know each other on the road back to Forscythe. You and your companions have disrespected the will of the king. You are now under charges for the murder of three from my guard as well. You are required to surrender immediately. You will be restrained and returned,” the captain said coolly.
The crowd waited expectantly for me to say something. The guards were fearful of them, and with the malice in their eyes, I could understand why.
How easy would they turn on the guards? If only they didn’t have Alexandra and Joseph.
I’d been a good gambler up to this point.
“If Maul couldn’t get me there,” I scoffed, “I doubt you could.”
“Maul is an outlaw and a traitor. He holds no importance to me, except the bounty for his head,” the captain crossed his arms, “You will come down here now. Or my men will fill that bird with lead and fry him on our fires.”
Ram
hissed.
I gave a twisted smirk, thinking, “As the now leader of Maul’s outlaws and traitors I demand that you surrender to me and release my companions.”
The captain burst out laughing but the crowd had all started talking, looking at me with a surprised sort of respect.
“Silence, peasants!” The captain screeched, “I’m sure you’ve had your fun with the lost boys, but you are a child in over your head. You are going home, Atlas, I’m just sorry you had to be so stupid about it.”
He started to make a motion to one of the soldiers when Ram screamed, a blood curling roar that jolted all present.
“See how he fears the beast!” the farmer roared.
“Silence, old man! I’ll kill you!” the captain shook his fist.
“Only the sinful like you fear death!” the crowd parted around the farmer, “I would rather die fighting for my freedom than live with my heart and soul chained to this suffering!”
The captain said something to the soldier beside him. He leveled his gun and fired, the farmer flinching away. The bullet whizzed across his arm, and he held a hand to the wound, the crowd frozen in the silent tension.
The captain looked out over the crowd, “You forsake the order that protects you, the leadership that guides you. Anarchy is only death and chaos! Revolution is hell! Are you foolish enough to throw away what’s left of your population over a false ideal of how to better things?” his voice drew off, leaving a shameful quiet.
“He tries to control you all with lies. He quells your hope because he know how dangerous it is to his position of power,” I pointed at the captain, the man snarling.
“As long as I stand here,” the captain planted his feet, “these people are safe. People like you poison that idea with your comforting lies.”
“I find that hypocritical,” I narrowed my eyes.
“I am done having a debate with you,” he turned back, “Shoot the chicken.”
An arrow whistled through the air, the captain looking down at the feathered shaft in his chest. He blubbered, collapsing to his knees, and crashed off the platform.
I turned, with everyone else, to the roof beside me.
