by J. McSpadden
***
Vesyon stood on the balcony just off the main living quarters of his old room. It had felt beyond good to walk into the familiar space, run his fingers over the old worn books and disarray of papers, grasp the simple items he had once held so dear. With the wondrous delight of coming home, he was struck silent with the sudden sharp taste of loneliness. Standing alone in the home he'd grown up in with Jesabelle—it was welcoming and horribly bittersweet.
He walked straight out to the balcony, needing to get some fresh air, and lost track of time as he pulled out his worn wooden pipe and packed his favorite tobacco down the chamber in rhythmic repetition. Smoke billowed from between his lips, bringing a slow and needed peace to his mind.
"May I join you?" Langhorn asked from the edge of the balcony behind him. Vesyon hadn't heard him enter. The old man had moved silently like a cloud on a persistent breeze. It didn't matter, he was finally home, and for once Vesyon felt safe in the comfort of his surroundings. He nodded at the old man and Langhorn floated toward him, his feet moving beneath the billowing material of his cloak.
Reaching into one sleeve, Langhorn pulled out a narrow, ivory pipe the length of Vesyon's forearm, carved with the most delicate details around the base of the pipe end. Langhorn rarely smoked with Vesyon, but when he did, he staunchly smoked his private reserve of cannabis. Vesyon had smoked the old man's leaf once or twice in his life, but it made his mind fuzzy in a way that made him not understand the appeal. It eases the ache in my bones, Langhorn would say, but Vesyon believed it was more about the gentle ease of his mind that made Langhorn delight in the delicate leaf from time to time.
"There's one more thing," Langhorn said, reaching into his other sleeve and pulling out a thin parchment envelope. The broken red seal across the front the mark of the High Court.
"What's this?" Vesyon asked with an edge to his voice. He eyed the envelope and array of parchment with a strong sense of foreboding.
"Open it," Langhorn replied dryly before he inhaled heavily on his pipe, allowing the smoke to sit comfortably in his chest before blowing out gentle blueish rings.
Vesyon reached inside the envelope and pulled out a piece of parchment folded into thirds. Two tiny slips of paper fluttered into his hand as he unfolded the letter, and his eyes flicked up to Langhorn's in trepidation. He quickly read through the perfectly looped words across the top and felt the blood drain from his face. "How?" Vesyon asked, his tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth as the sweet taste of tobacco turned to ash on his taste buds.
"He's made his next move."
Vesyon reread the words delicately written in beautiful green ink, but the heading was the only content he seemed able to process. His heart slammed against his chest as a rolling wave of Praecollection poured into him. He didn't want to remember, didn't want to see what his mind was forcing him to endure, but the memories were unstoppable. His vision blurred from the intense pain drumming behind his eyes, and he tossed the letter onto the balcony railing, wishing a gust of wind would whip it away from him. "This can't be possible. He exiled Praetorians, all of us!"
Langhorn nodded, staring out at the swirling loops of smoke drifting lazily through the early evening air, purposely giving Vesyon time to collect himself. "You may not believe what's written on that page, but the rest of Aspera will. And when they receive their letters, there will be nothing to stop him from yanking every Asperian he wants into Alpha Quarter."
"He needs Ephidra Lily to continue what he's started—you said that yourself. He didn't find any."
"I told you the war would begin when he began to search for more, he's run through the supply he stole from me. We're too late, Vesyon. The war for Aspera has truly begun, and there's nothing we can do to stop its forward trajectory."
Vesyon glanced at the heading again, wishing more than anything that he imagined the words as he read them:
The High Court cordially demands you attend the Thirteenth Aspera Munera Praetorian Trials.
"No," Vesyon said, resolutely slamming a palm on the marble banister. "I won't let him do this. If he's going to pull more innocent Asperians into the fight, then I'll go to the trials to challenge it."
"By yourself, hmm?" Langhorn said in a mocking jest.
"Don't be ridiculous, you know I can't take down the crown by myself," Vesyon shot back.
"Not all the men in Romeo Village are enough, Vesyon. We need to extend our reach into other territories outside our borders."
Vesyon grunted in response, slamming his pipe against the flattened expanse of his palm. "There's no one else besides Phillip's men that I am certain I can count on. Those beyond the border would kill us just as quickly as they'd kill LeMarc. We have no allies."
"Oh posh," Langhorn snorted in response. "I know the old treaties would hold tight for those outside Aspera. Many remain loyal to the true heir, the rightful High King of the Five Shores!"
"Oh, dear Ma'Nada," Vesyon said on a sigh of exasperation. He'd heard the story so many times in his life that it'd become a joke how seriously some Asperians took it, including Langhorn. "Now is not the time for imaginary stories or make-believe. Don't you think 'the chosen one' story-line fated to lead the people to salvation is a bit old?" Taking in a deep breath of the crisp night air, Vesyon could taste the slight chill of blossoming winter. He felt the icy tendrils grip at his vocal chords, and it chilled him down to the bone.
Langhorn shook his head, his brows drawn together. "For a man so determined to live a life of freedom and happiness, you're sure going about it strangely. The prophecy lays out the truth my boy; the true born Lowenhaar will take the throne."
"Screw the prophecy, you old man. For all Aspera knows, LeMarc is a true born. He states that fact himself."
"Just because the High King says something is true, are you going to believe him?"
Vesyon stared daggers at Langhorn before relighting his pipe and taking an extra-long drag on the smoldering leaves. "It doesn't matter what I believe. The last thing Aspera needs is another heavy-handed ruler forcing his or her thoughts over this land. The people need freedom, Langhorn, and they want to have a voice. The prophecy you cling to is an old myth. Just a story to tell children at night to ensure hope exists. LeMarc is the High King. The only savior Aspera will have are those willing to fight against the crown, not some prophesied child born some sixty years ago. Aspera doesn't need to bow to yet another monarchy focused on its own agenda and not the true needs of the people."
"That crown is the only thing holding Aspera together," Langhorn said in a clipped tone as Vesyon snorted, sufficiently cutting him off.
"That's total hogwash. The people hold this land together."
"You forget that I was there. I saw when High King Lucas's brother Logan sent his wife Vivienne away from Alpha Quarter. I was the physician meant to help her through the birthing, but she abandoned her station before the child was due," Langhorn snapped back in a harsh whisper.
Vesyon shook his head in a wearisome way. "Yes, but you didn't. Vivienne disappeared, and she died along with her unborn child. There's no proof the heir is alive. There's no savior or chosen one. There will be an army of men and women, Praetorians and Rogues, that will fight to the death for the land and the life they deserve. We don't need a High King or Queen to lead us."
"And if you take LeMarc down, remove the monster from the throne, what then? Who will rule Aspera if not the heir to the crown?"
He didn't have an answer for that and hadn't allowed himself to think of what life would be once LeMarc was gone entirely. There was so little he did want, and in the smallest form, he was desperate for the pure simplicity of solitude. A moment’s peace living out his long days in White Wall in his old living quarters. It was an impossible dream, he knew that, but it was far more realistic to him than searching for the promised heir to take a crown they had no clue what to do with.
"I have no time to concern myself with what will come next. First, we must defeat a High King. When we win, the
land and its people will decide on the structure of rule. I have nothing to do with what is decided. I'm promised to Camille and her safety, and I will live to serve her."
"Horse shiat!"
Vesyon's eyes blazed with anger as he whirled on the man. "You're out of line, old man!"
"No, you are! Do you have any idea what you're saying! Aspera needs a leader, a voice to lead them to victory. If not the heir to the throne, then an honorable Asperian to show them how to achieve what they are fighting for. You can't honestly think that existing fulfill a single promise you made many years ago is a life worth living. You are meant to lead."
"I don't want to be their leader," Vesyon replied curtly.
"Vesyon," Langhorn said, his tone soft and pleading. "You have to come to terms that Jesabelle is gone; she will never be with us again. I understand you made her a promise to protect Camille, but you can do more than that. You can protect Camille's future as well as her present. Both of you could live in peace. Is that not what you want for her?"
Vesyon ignored his words and hunched his shoulders in annoyance. "Aspera will find a way."
Langhorn snorted. "Say what you want, child, but once you remove one snake another will slithered into his place. Unless someone is willing to step forward and enforce a new way of life, you can't stop it. The absence of a ruler will cause a vacuum of power if no structure is enforced. If not the rightful heir to the throne, then what? If freedom is what you see for this land, a country ruled by the people, then you need to be the front runner of that."
"You're telling me to raise an army against LeMarc and head into Alpha Quarter, stating my right to destroy the crown? What would that achieve? That sounds like suicide even for a Praetorian."
"Sounds like the beginning of a plan to me," Langhorn replied, his lips quirking with a sly smile.
"Be careful old man. You don't know what LeMarc is capable of," Vesyon said, the darkness of his past floating like ghosts in the deep well of his eyes.
"I know more than you can imagine," Langhorn stated firmly, though without sharpness. Vesyon eyed the man out of the corner of his peripheral vision, but let the comment lay. There was much about Langhorn that Vesyon would never know, and it sparked renewed interest in the man he'd always thought of as his mentor and substitute father.
"I don't care about growing our troops beyond what we have now, we have her, and no one knows what she's capable of. You should have seen her, Langhorn," Vesyon said, his eyes alight with wistful excitement looking out over the dark expanse of the Aspera lands before him. If he hadn't been so terrified when he'd first seen Camille after the explosion of Romeo Village, Vesyon would have smiled in sweet relief and swelling pride watching her battle more Chimera than he'd ever seen anyone battle at one time. Her strength and ferocity had blazed like wildfire across the battlefield, pulling the horde of beasts toward her like a homing beacon. There'd been no stopping her.
Langhorn pursed his thin lips in silent response as Vesyon's eyes zeroed in on the fluttering parchment before him on the banister.
"I know that look," Langhorn said grimly. "And you need to think about what he's already taken from you before you blaze ahead without a plan. What else are you willing to lose in your quest to defeat him? This isn't the time to rush into battle alone. We need to build our strength before we continue this path. Romeo Village isn't enough. There needs to be strong support of Aspera's loyalists on our side. Whiskey Wharf, Echo Colony, Sierra Village, Delta Square—they will all stand strong behind the true High King of Aspera."
Vesyon stared straight at Langhorn, his expression one of sharp determination. Without hesitation, he replied with complete and untainted honesty, "Langhorn—I'm willing to lose everything I have if it means that man falls from the throne."
Nodding in grim understanding, Langhorn took one final pull on his long-necked pipe and blew the fragrant smoke out in a soft, billowing cloud. "We will need to go to the trials, but we must not do this openly. We need to see how far along he has come in building his army of Night Raves. There must be preparation and discovery before we make our move. We will build our army one village at a time."
Vesyon nodded his head slowly, knowing without a doubt that Langhorn spoke the truth. "Yes, we must prepare for Alpha Quarter."
"Will you bring her with you?" Langhorn asked, his eyes searching, though without assumption.
"I don't believe I can afford to leave her behind," Vesyon replied carefully. Langhorn wasn't an idiot. Just like Phillip, he knew the truth behind Vesyon's words.
"Then Theo must join."
"Yes, of course," Vesyon replied instinctively.
"As will I," Langhorn stated firmly.
Vesyon chuckled softly, the blazing heat of his anger simmering to a manageable level. "Yes, I don't believe I could keep you away from such an event, could I?"
Footsteps raced across the interior of his room and Vesyon's head turned just in time to see one of Langhorn's assistants skid into view, her charcoal eyes bright with unrestrained excitement. "What is it?" Langhorn asked, taking a few steps toward the young woman in obvious worry. "Has something happened?"
"Yes," she said, her voice brimming with fascination but also a note of apprehension. "The girl is awake, Doctor, and she's asking for Vesyon."
"That's wonderful news, Maggie," Langhorn exclaimed, glancing from the young girl of seventeen to Vesyon and then back again.
"There's more, Doctor," Maggie's short black hair swung forward over her features as she ducked her head in silent request to continue.
"Please my dear, continue."
"Um, well..." she started, nervously hopping from foot to foot. "She isn't really in a great state of mind. She is quite furious and um, Theo is struggling to keep her restrained. I tried to dose her with valerian serum to induce sleep as you suggested, but I wasn't successful. I am hoping Theo was," she said meekly, as though chastising herself for her inability to combat a mighty Praetorian.
"Oh dear," Langhorn said with a soft sigh. "Looks like we might have a long night ahead of us."
Vesyon nodded slowly, uncertain of what they'd find after walking into the surgery ward. A tremor of fear, long ago buried, resurfaced as they rushed down the silent hallways of White Wall. It'd been eight years since the destruction of Charlie Town, and yet the familiar taste of terror exploded throughout Vesyon's system as he struggled to reign in his internal dread. Would there be any essence of his Camille left or had the demons finally consumed her whole?
Epilogue
Silver Prison
Green ink dripped from the metal-tipped pen staining the parchment beneath Emma's fingertips. Her mouth felt as dry as if she'd swallowed an entire gallon of salted biscuits, and her bright blue eyes blinked rapidly as she stared at the name written neatly across the page. She pushed her mousy brown hair away from her face, ensuring she'd read the words correctly.
There'd been a moment of excitement and glee when an Equestrian had come to her parent's home that afternoon, requesting Miss Emma Donner's appearance at the High Court. She was only sixteen, barely legal under Asperian Law—yet she went up to the High Court with an eager grin on her face, hoping the High King's request would be followed with an easy task and some sort of payment. The fall season had been dreary and fruitless, a grim warning of the winter to come, and her family needed money.
The High King had been a sight to behold, and it was a bit shocking to see him at first. He was beyond tall, with a charismatic smile bolstered by the deepest dimples she'd ever seen on a man. Thick black hair tousled perfectly over his dark olive skin, the messy array of curls the only mark of wildness. There was no crown atop his head, but it didn't diminish the air of power he managed to exude in his posture and undeniable confidence.
He wore a fitted black doublet, gold threading, and fixtures sewn into the fabric blinking brilliantly across his chest and shoulders as he moved toward her. Black breeches clung to his legs and thighs, his sturdy leather boots shined to perfectio
n, but obviously worn, the scuffed edges a mere hint of their constant use. A thick gold necklace sat over his chest, spanning the length of his shoulders, the obsidian and sapphire stones flickering with movement. It was hard not to stare, though Emma kept her eyes cast downward as best she could. Despite the ebony depths of his eyes, his attractive features brought her attention up to his face again and again. He was an impossible man not to stare at, and despite her fear of punishment, she felt herself smiling back at him as he offered her a hand in welcome.
Bowing as gracefully as possible, Emma leaned toward his proffered hand and kissed the hefty ruby ring sitting on his left pinky. She'd always wondered about the rumors that he was in hiding, but he graciously greeted her at the front door of his throne room, leading her himself to the sitting room she was now occupying. His conversational tone had been pleasant, his questions simple, his smile divine. The High King offered her a cup of rose tea, which she'd gracefully accepted while trying to keep her giddiness to a minimum. As she sipped the delicious concoction and listened to his lilting voice, she didn't think there was anything wrong with what he was asking her to do, especially as he was offering to pay her for her services.
"Take this list, my dear, and in your perfect calligraphy I want you to write each name on its own slip of paper and put them into their respective envelopes."
An Equestrian stood just outside the small room, but the High King had closed the doors, giving Emma an excellent opportunity to take in her stunning surroundings without being watched. There was an open bay window overlooking Black Bottom Lake, and Emma peeked up from her desk to admire the way the structures of Alpha Quarter glittered in the late morning sun. It was beautiful, and, as a native of Delta Village, Emma had never thought her stars would lead her to such a breathtaking moment. She shifted in the soft, red leather chair and pulled her utensils closer, narrowing her eyes in a moment of intense concentration.
