by Osku Alanen
“Oh, my dear. Was it something is said?” The man cocked his head quizzically.
“Why are you telling me all this?” Alessia asked, sobbing.
“Frankly, I don’t know myself. I suppose I enjoy your company so? There is… something about you. I never lose sight of my duty with my marks… but you, my dear, are something special.”
Alessia stared the man in horror. Had this man—this monster—gotten attached to her? She did not deserve this madness.
“So now you don’t like me anymore?” The man appeared hurt, shaking his head. “Very well. How about now?”
His complexion turned fairer. The crooked smile disappeared. His wrinkled, scarred face transformed into that of a chiseled, handsome young man. Into Rodrik. Her Rodrik.
She stared at the façade of a man she had cherished, trying her very best to convince her that it had all been a sham. The man never even existed. The Rodrik he had fallen in love with was nothing but a mask. No, he had existed, but she had never met him. Alessia took what little comfort she could in that. It was not all a trick. “Why not just kill me here and now and get it over with?” Alessia asked bitterly.
“Oh, I fear I couldn’t possibly do that any longer, my dear. You will not die—not by my hand, at least. I have new orders now. You have caught the interest of my master, too—lucky girl—and he wants to meet you. Besides, if I wanted you dead, I would have slit your throat in the tavern that night when you slept. What an end it would have been for you, my dear! I have no doubt in my mind you would have taken that smile into the afterlife with you. No. I only took one life that night, and it was that gallant captain of yours.”
“Captain Severan is dead?” She would have kept crying, but all her tears had dried. She felt empty, numb, hollow.
“I’m sorry to say that he is. No man survives a blade through the heart, I’m afraid. I would have wanted to avoid it. I admired the man, I did. He was surprisingly competent. Frankly, I’m not sure how he found us, but he did. And if he had been there but a moment earlier, I have no doubt he might have saved you.”
The man who wore Rodrik’s face looked at the distant horizon and frowned. “I believe it’s best if we were on our way. I think it’s about to rain. And I just hate the rain.”
***
The carriage crawled through countless hills while Alessia was forced to sit and watch as her homeland grew smaller and smaller. She knew a part of her longed for an adventure, but not even in her wildest dreams had she thought it would mean this. The Royal Pinnacle might have felt like a prison to her on occasion, but it was home.
Her bound arms ached terribly, and the gag the assassin had bound her lips with grew wet with saliva. She felt violated, filthy, hopeless. She wondered how far the man would take him—all the way to the Nubian Empire? That seemed unlikely. Sure, the mask he wore could conceal him, but their borders were well guarded, and he would still have to get her across with him. Think, girl. What would you do if you were him?
She knew that the man was working for someone, he had admitted as much. And if he wasn’t planning on crossing the border, then his master was no doubt closer, perhaps even within their borders. Her mind raced, but eventually, the numbness of their slow journey took a hold of her, and she found her eyelids closing.
The carriage came to a halt, startling Alessia awake. The sun had already set over the horizon, and the sky had turned dark. She lifted herself up, shocked to realize that her hands were completely numb. The circulation to her arms must have been blocked, and now that she lifted herself up, the feeling—and the pain—came rushing back. She heard voices, which made her hold her breath in anxious anticipation. Had they arrived already? How long was she out?
“We are almost there, my dear. Now, do me a favor and sit back down. You’ll get to stretch your legs soon enough.”
The carriage journeyed onwards. Alessia could scarcely see anything under the pitch-black sky. She mumbled a question for her captor, but not a whisper passed through the gag. Slowly, the darkness of the night subsided as a source of light appeared in the distance. Torches?
In a moment of relief, she thought that they had reached the border, and if she yelled for help, their soldiers would come rushing for her aid. Ready to shout like her life depended on it—which it did—Alessia paused when she saw unfamiliar uniforms.
Though she didn’t recognize them, she at once knew them to be Nubian soldiers. How long had she slept? The thought of her sleeping through while they crossed the Eyrian border, and into Nubian territory seemed absurd to her. The only logical conclusion was that the Nubian Empire had invaded their lands.
Her mind raced at the implication of what this could mean. Then, finally, it all clicked. The assassination of her brothers. The soldiers she could see clear as day now. The timing of it all. It was a ploy to weaken their kingdom, just like her father had thought. But why let her father and her live? If they were about to be invaded, then surely killing her father would have been of the highest priority? With no male heirs and their sole monarch slain, the kingdom would have crumbled into chaos. The other noble families would have argued endlessly, each claiming theirs was the right to rule. She was missing something—but what?
The carriage passed multiple squadrons with hard-looking soldiers and grim faces. They were all armed to the teeth, each wielding a deadly spear with frightening skill. Curious glances were placed her way, but none moved to free her; she had no friends here. Her kingdom was in grave danger, and in all likeliness, she was the only one who knew it. She thought of giving up then, but that would have meant the assassin had won. And that was something Alessia would never let happen. If she was to die here, then she would die fighting. But what use would her death be to anyone? No. She needed to bide her time, learn what they were planning to do, and hatch a plan to escape. She had let her foolishness get the better of her, but no more. No matter how bad things were between her and her father, she was still his daughter—and she had a duty for her people.
Two stern-looking guards with dull faces approached the carriage, ordering it to stop. They spoke something to the assassin, saluted him, and moved aside. The assassin came for her then, his false face discarded. His crooked smile made Alessia want to vomit, so sick was she of seeing it.
Two strong arms lifted Alessia to her feet. She thought of struggling, cursing, biting her captors, but realized the futility of it. If she wanted to escape, she would need her wits about her. They had to think her harmless, compliant. Well, that won’t be difficult, I imagine. I am terrified already.
The men removed the ropes binding her hand. They tried placing Alessia on the ground, to have her walk on her own, but her legs gave in. The soldiers muttered something in their strange tongue and carried her inside a large, covered pavilion.
She heard a voice coming from the inside, loud and regal.
“Look, General. I understand your reluctance, but this is rash, even for you. At least let me try it my way.”
Their conversation halted when Alessia was brought inside. The soldiers placed her on a lone chair, promptly leaving the pavilion after.
The man who was speaking had been conversing with another man, undoubtedly Nubian. She had no idea who this dark-haired man was, but he was handsome, distractingly so. The Nubian man was old, wrinkled. There was a sense of air around him. The other man had called him a general, hadn’t he? This general possessed hair that was white as snow, neatly combed behind his back. It was at that precise moment Alessia realized the man’s identity. Only one general in the Nubian Empire had distinct features like this man here. This was the infamous General Rud'ak ner Aldruin. It had to be. The very same man who had led the assault into Eyrian lands all those years ago, almost conquering their lands. The man whose name brought chills down the spines of every Eyrian.
Interestingly, Alessia noticed there was no fear in the eyes of the dark-haired man by his side.
The General turned towards Alessia, frowning. He was about to say somethi
ng but was interrupted by the other man.
“We bid you welcome, princess Alessia vas Nerian, successor to the Eyrian throne,” the dark-haired man said, bowing deeply.
“You don’t get to speak for me, dog,” the General growled in a deeply accented tone.
“My apologies, General. I was simply showing her the respect someone of her stature deserves. I can see her journey here has been a struggle.”
The General snorted. “It’s always the same with you. It baffles me why others don’t see you for what you truly are. You may not possess the skills Rubaron has, but I see right through your masks.” His Common tongue was coarse, untrained. It was nothing like the polite, flowery tongue of the dark-haired man.
“Thank you,” Alessia answered, her voice a whisper. She swallowed, repeating. “Thank you.” Good. That’s what she wanted to sound like—confident, regal, in control. If she acted like a prisoner, they would treat her as such. She needed to prove them that she had value.
“Enough with the pleasantries,” the General barked. “I did not march my armies here for pleasantries.”
The stranger frowned. “I’m curious. What’s her role in all this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” the General smiled. “Rubaron has delivered me the key. The last living heir to the throne of Eyria is in our hands. Her father has no choice but to open their gates for us now.”
“No,” Alessia gasped. He wouldn’t do it, would he? Open the gates just to save her life?
“Please. Can’t you see how frightened the lady is? At least show her some courtesy. Your man has been rough with her, General—It is clear as day. Don’t you have a shred of your old honor left?”
“Don’t speak to me of honor, you dog! What the Emperor sees in you, I will never understand. But remember this: you are not in charge here. I am,” the General’s voice boomed. “And press me further, and I will cut your throat where you stand, traitor. You have failed the Empire, and now it is up to me to fix the mess you have made.” There was fire in his eyes, and a terrible anger in his voice.
The stranger was not intimidated. “Please, General, there is no need for whatever… this is. You’re scaring the lady.” He looked at Alessia and smiled quizzically. “I don’t believe she needs to hear all this, do you?”
“Finally, something we can agree on.”
The man barked orders. The same guards entered the pavilion, lifting Alessia up again—this time with a gentler touch.
***
“My, my. How well they treat you, my dear. Congratulations! It isn’t so bad here, is it?”
“What do you want?” Alessia growled.
The guards had brought her into a secluded tent. She was surprised when she saw how well-cared for the place was. She had a bed here. Fruits. Wine. For a prisoner, this was more than she had expected. Much more. But in the end, she was a prisoner. There were guards at the doorway. Armed guards.
The assassin gasped. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on, my dear? After all we have been through, together? Oh, you are crushing my heart!”
“Enough,” Alessia repeated. She wasn’t in the mood for the games this bastard played.
“Very well.” The man smiled, bowing. “I see it’s going to be all business with you, then. The General wishes to discuss something with you. Will you see him?”
Alessia shrugged, downing a goblet full of wine in front of her. This was not what she had in mind when she thought of capture. Boredom and wine. And the company of murderers. “Do I really have a choice?”
“No.” The man chucked on his way out.
One day, you will pay for what you did to me. I vow it.
Soon after, the General entered. This time, he looked calmer, composed.
“I believe we haven’t been properly introduced.” The General bowed. “General Rud’ak ner Aldruin, Commander of the first division of his highness, Emperor Ala’mor ner Novus.”
Alessia bowed, grinding her teeth. No matter how it churned her stomach, she would endure this man. If her plan to escape failed, perhaps her could reason with the man. She was the last surviving member of the royal family, and she would act the part. “Alessia vas Nerian, daughter of King Robert vas Nerian.” Alessia pointed at the seat opposite to hers, and the General complied, sitting.
“I must apologize for my behavior, your highness. Managing a war camp of this magnitude is a tiresome task, and the sudden appearance of that… man did not help.”
Alessia swallowed. “So, it is to be war, then?”
The General grunted. “There has always been a war, my lady—it never ended. It was simply… put on hold.”
“I see,” Alessia muttered. She had to convince the man otherwise, but how? She knew next to nothing of the conflict; politics had been left to her siblings, not her. Managing the kingdom had always been her father’s duty, and only Rewalt had been trained to succeed him. She was the black sheep of the family, only useful to her father as a bride to a prince of some foreign kingdom, to use as a tool. But now the gravity of her predicament here was clear to her—her words here might either save or doom her entire homeland. She felt sick at the thought, and the bottle of wine she had drunk had only brought her nausea, not courage.
“And what,” Alessia said, pouring herself another glass with shaking hands, “do you exactly have against us? Why carry on this struggle, where the innocent can be the only victim? We have done no wrong.”
“No wrong?” The man stared at Alessia, looking hurt. He sighed, shaking his head, muttering under his breath. “You Eyrians. If you weren’t so very young, I might be insulted by your words. Everyone in our nation knows of our conflict. How you wronged us. How can you not?”
Alessia felt her face redden with anger and humiliation. “Young I might be, General, but I have been schooled well.”
“Then there can be no excuse for your ignorance. Every youngling of our nation knows of your betrayal.” Aldruin muttered something in his own tongue. “Of course. Your father. What else can it be? The cunning bastard.”
“Then perhaps you should enlighten me, General. How have we wronged you?” Alessia added with a dry tone.
General Rud’ak nodded, satisfied. “This I will do.” He motioned Alessia to pour him a glass, and she obeyed, grudgingly. He took a sip, sighing. “Long ago, we were at peace. You know this, yes?” the General said.
Alessia nodded. This was before her time. Back when his uncle still ruled. Before he went mad.
“Your nation is in its infancy, while our great Empire has prospered for close to a thousand years.” The man raised the goblet to his lips and took a long, careful sip. “We chose to reach out to you. We knew of your lust for… war, but we reached out. Our mistake, yes, but all was good. We traded wheat, sheep, gold, fish—everything. Both nations prospered.” The General continued, sighing. “Years passed, and we lived in harmony. Your kingdom became what it is today. Until one day, our Empires were to join together as family.”
“When the Emperor’s daughter wed my cousin,” Alessia whispered. She knew this story. Their families were to be wed until her uncle ruined it all with his madness. She had been born years after all of this happened, and it was nothing but a story for her. Rewalt had been a child then, and Lionel was but an infant.
“Precisely,” the man lamented, his voice cracking. “Our Emperor gave his only daughter to your king’s son. They were to unite us, but then your king ruined it all.”
“But you said it yourself—the King was mad. Why wage war over the lunacy of one man? Why continue with this asinine vengeance? Haven’t we all suffered enough?” Alessia reasoned.
“I am not finished,” the man replied calmly. “At first, it was a political marriage, but in time, they both grew fond of each other. Your prince spent time in our great lands. He grew to love it. The lush oases. The way the evening breeze gently blew through the calm dunes. Our people. Our culture. There is much to love there. One who has not visited our lands cannot even fathom the riches w
e hold. So yes, the prince spent a year with us, and when he returned to Eyria, he returned with an infant son.”
The son who died, along with the Emperor’s daughter, Alessia thought. Had her uncle killed her, too? He had pressed her father for an answer, but time and time again he had refused, calling it ancient history—something best forgotten. Likely, only his uncle knew the full story. And dead men can’t talk.
“Your king had grown paranoid. He was shocked, hurt, angry seeing his grandson—a grandson he knew nothing of. He raged and raved like a man possessed. He went so far as to think the Emperor’s daughter a spy. He imprisoned her, and when his son tried to intervene, the King struck him dead.”
“What happened to the infant?” Alessia asked, dreading the answer.
The General frowned. “Not all your countrymen were unsympathetic; they saw how the child suffered. They saw the King’s madness, but they lacked the strength and the will to overthrow him. But when the King tried to burn the child, one brave soul interfered and helped them escape.”
“Burned?” Alessia whispered. She had heard nothing of this. Not a whisper. What monster would harm a child? “How do you know this to be the truth? Surely, even a madman couldn’t have gone that far?” Alessia whispered.
“Because I heard Alleria’s dying words myself.” General Aldruin shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “She fled Eyria with her son, and journeyed home. But the journey was long, hard, and her health was fragile. She died a day later of a fever our healers couldn’t cure. With her dying breath, she claimed her son yet lived, for she couldn’t risk taking him with her for such an arduous journey.”
“So that’s why you have warred against us all these years?” Alessia swallowed. “To avenge this… Alerria.”
“No.” the General answered promptly. “You have been listening, yes? I came here to right an injustice. I am here to grant the Kingdom of Eyria their rightful heir.”
