Chapter 3 The Return

The Princes have returned, on winged white horses descending from the clouds.

It has been only half a year since the unfortunate and mysterious siege occurred upon the capital city of Liontari, Silondras. Although Queen Celia erased the physical destruction of the capital itself, the true scars carried on in the hearts of citizens. Nevertheless, life has returned to relative normalcy, as it were. The markets were always open, the people were always smiling, and the soldiers were always ready for action. But this was not the extent of the security that they were able to supply. Due to the decree of the Grandmaster, who authorized dealings with mages overseas and other diplomatic dealings, even magical means of protection, were provided. The fact that these attacks had occurred in all Western powerhouses undoubtedly has strengthened some sort of bond, however tenuous that bond may be now. But with more magical means of repelling specific threats. Silondras was healing. A lot of this mending and reconstruction has been attributed to the newest queen of Liontari. Queen Celia Opal, someone of Hathan nobility gone into hiding and finding herself suddenly the sovereign of one of the seven kingdoms, has spent the better part of six months being the head of many of these events. While many found it odd that a figure such as she has taken the place of their beloved King James, they were complacent for the most part. She has shown herself in that very siege to be a mighty and capable warrior as well as inspiration, protecting the people with her bloody fists.

Yes, she has become quite popular with the public faction. Her upbringing as a farmer's wife in a relatively insignificant plains village painted her as somewhat as a casual appearance. And like the king, she was often found roaming the city streets to commune with the local people when she was not cooped up in the fortress. The artisan sect has seen some much-needed attention, as many shops unsurprisingly burned down. And with the aid of one of the knights who grew up in the section, they did their fair work reconstructing it even better than before. While the interactions with the common factions have been more than courteous, unfortunately, the same could not be said for the noble faction. Despite a reputation amongst the Ryal faction as some sort of advisor or general right hand to the king at one point in his young life, Celia was still a new sight to many nobility who had found balance in James' steady rule. And now, a new figure has arrived. It wasn't a pleasant first impression when she had ordered that nobility would pitch into the collective reconstruction efforts, and even more so that she is of Hathan blood. Many had speculated that someone from the noble faction could be elected, but with her sudden arrival, that opportunity, unfortunately, had gotten taken away.

But, the minor nobility of Liontari was the least of Celia's troubles because the pilgrimage shall commence soon enough. But first, a little going away party would be set for her departure for her journey across the western powers to meet with the various rulers and other important figures. It was customary, and this banquet shall also serve as a welcome home event for the elusive princes of the queen, Lyse and Edlund Opal. While the queen herself was rather sociable, her children had stayed far and away from any potential prying eye. Both her sons, knights, had gone off on their agenda that many were curious about, while the daughter had stayed within the fortress never seen for more than a moment outside the walls. Some theories and gossip flew about that she was ill or crippled perhaps, but for Celia, she merely wanted to make sure that she was ready for what may occur. This banquet shall be the most public event that Massua has ever attended, in fact, and at one point, she supposed she would be more nervous. Seeing the tables being set in the ballroom, more ornate decorations, and banners hung from the railings, she felt some sort o nostalgia for the festivals she would witness at home. The entire ball area was rather excited as she followed behind her mother, who gave directions to her various curators, who then relayed her demands to the castle's staff. It seemed her mother was falling more and more into her role than even she realized. She kept herself busy with what was around her, really Massua was better off doing something else like training or practicing, but her mother found it imperative for her to follow her around like a lost dog.

Massua prepared a sigh that would indicate her displeasure, but then something tickled in the back of her mind as a familiar voice crawled up.

"I grow bored of this," Vermilliaa said in the depths of her mind. "I'm all for festivities, but watching the prelude sure is boring. When do we get to the alcohol?"

"We can both agree on that," she told her. "I never liked setting up the decorations in BrokenArrow either. But here we are."

"Where is that female knight friend of yours," Vermilliaa asked her. "She at least is not as dreadful as the clowns that roam these halls."

"She's most likely on her way," she sighed. "No doubt because my brothers are returning, it would be a nice reunion, yes?"

"Brothers," Vermilliaa racked around in thought. As time went on, Massua noticed that Vermilliaa wasn't always "conscious" when she was. There are periods where she would hear nothing from her, hours at a time on occasions. She timed this out by being every twelve hours, where she would fall asleep within her subconscious for three hours. Vermilliaa told her that during this time, she wouldn't be able to summon Vermilliaa's latent powers dormant within her, yet another reason to continue training her body so that she may be able to use the many talents Vermilliaa would possibly leave her.

"Are you listening, Massua?" Massua hadn't realized that Celia had just addressed her, finally looking to her mother, who dismissed another servant, looking down to her. "A lot of nobles will be attending, and it'll be our way of leaving a mark on the city while we are gone."

"Right, mother," she said in a practiced tone.

"I'm serious," she said. "It's almost as important for you as it is for me. You'll be seeing a lot out there. The other kings and queens of the Empire expects us to make a bold statement, an unspoken requirement for the crown. We will need to prove ourselves. Are you prepared for that?"

"Perhaps," she said. "And I suppose Lyse and Edlund will be exempt from such things."

"They have their responsibilities," Celia told her. "While it is a pain they won't be able to accompany us, it's easy to dismiss their assignments as knightly duties. While they look into other nations for our enemies, we have to look within."

Massua's eyes widened. "You don't believe the lords of the empire are corrupted, do you?"

"That's what we intend to find out," she said. Now when she says "we" Massua knew she meant the grandmaster Remmus and her sudden aunt Queen Lizbeth of Hath. Things have gotten quite weird. "We'll head to Lykos. Makyra has already gone to send our regards and will be waiting for us. Now, where should I place the main dessert?"

"If it's desserts you wish to discuss, may I give input?"

They both turned. It was Lupurious, the Paladin of security. He looked a decade younger than he should, as always, with clothes that trailed the edge of modesty. HE had that same smile on his face as he usually does when approaching them, kind yet counseling, like looking over rabbits in pen. Though Massua doubts he would think of her mother as tame. Over the past few months, she noticed a form of competition between the two to see who could be the prettiest, passive-aggressive "friend" to the other. On the outside, she just thought they both looked like lunatics, but apparently, such behavior was expected. They spoke like old friends, very old friends. More so than what she had heard of her mother addressing the village, a distinguished history shared with a common point, the previous King James. For a long time, Lupurious seemed a husk of himself, rarely going about his duties and having to be dragged by his fellow paladins by the ear. Whenever he gave orders, they were vaguer than they ought to be and didn't inspire the kind of action the military police demanded. But after talking to her mother, and he put a lot more pep in his step. However, she felt that this was simply to prove something as well.

"Ah, I thought I smelled cakes already," Celia turned to him. "What brings one of my paladins down to the ball. Need dancing instructors."

"Now, Celia, you of all people know that I need instruction," he said without a hint of modesty. "Remember the Winters Ball in Pulsar?"

"I think I was focused on something more entertaining than flailing fish," she said, and an edgy look came upon Lupurious. "Now, then, before we continue our little dance, why is it that you've come upon me in the ballroom?"

"His expression noticeably untangled, his shoulders slumping as he stepped a bit closer, and said in much lower breaths. He did glance at Massua, an asserting eye, but he continued nonetheless.

"I wished to speak about Novia," he said. "You see, we rarely interact as is, rarely does her jurisdiction cross with mine, but I've noticed the way she acts around you. I believe she does not think you worthy of the crown, my lady."

"Is that all you can glean from six months?" Celia asked.

"I'm serious, Celia," he said. "You should speak to her instead of dancing around one another as if communication is sickness."

"When she's ready to act like an adult, then maybe I shall consider such a thing," she said dismissively. "I'm to busy as if to handle her personal issues. She will come when she's ready, I'm sure. Even Novia can't keep this up for long."

He sighed, very audibly. "And yet there is a wonder as to why your reputation amongst the noble classes are so tenuous. You don't like to bend the knee to anyone, do you, my queen?"

"Things will have to change," Celia pondered for a moment. "Perhaps there is something that I can do to help this little relationship you are so worried about."

"Oh dear mothers of the emperor, what have you concocted within that mind of yours?" he pressed hands to his temples, walking away as not to hear what she had in mind. for the Paladin of exploration. But Celia didn't have time to reveal this as a sudden commotion passed by the ballroom. Many of the nobles or unoccupied servants moved in a massive wave of interest towards the courtyard. Without even inquiring, Celia guessed the reason behind this sudden surge, and she had never seen such excitement stirred up so quickly before. But if there is one thing that always catches a noble's eye, it's what someone more important than them is doing. And Massua just had the gut feeling that only Lyse could generate this kind of reaction out of people. She had heard how many talks about him, suddenly appearing in the Knight trials and breaking the record of the previous king. But, of course, he couldn't have passed as anybody unimportant, he had to make himself outstanding, and this was merely the result. She followed her mother, flanked by dozens of sentinels as they trailed the crowd forming in the large courtyard. There was already quite the commotion as people near the center of the action were pestering and questioning them for any kind of statement. It was getting so rowdy that sentinels had to shove men and women aside to get to Lyse and Edlund, dismounting from great winged pegasus.

Massua could barely recognize them. It has only been six months, right? Lyse's hair was a bit longer, shoulder-length at this point, and had to be restrained by a hasty-looking ponytail. He had some stubble now, mere wisps that Celia could take to a barber soon enough. But his eyes, that was what Massua noticed at first. There was some sort of intensity to them now as if he was ready to do something excessive at any moment. Before, his eyes were always kind and reassuring. But it was like he had witnessed a hundred brutal battles before him and had grown worn. Edlund looked like Edlund. Though much less a boy as he left, that smile he greeted the crowd spoke much of the unchanged vigor he held since their youth. She can not blame them for looking so different, and she is sure they all look nothing like themselves a year ago, and from now on, who knows what will become of the Opals. But Celia had to catch her breath once seeing Lyse. He looked so much like his father at first. That same intensity, that same look on his face, and that blade at his side. He examined the spitting image of the man she met all that time ago, albeit with lighter color hair. He looked unbothered by the sudden bombard around him, but as soon as he saw his mother and sister, that stern look in his eye softened, and he smiled.

"Welcome home," her voice alone commanded for many to step aside and allow Celia a perfect view of her sons. She approached them, hugging them both before stepping back to examine them. "It is good to see you, Lyse, Edlund. I do believe we have much to discuss, yes?"

"Of course," Lyse flinched as servants came and picked up his belongings from the back of his pegasus. It seemed he would have to get used to having people at your beck and call at all times; at least there was still some naive there. "It's been far too long. I almost feel like a different person standing before you now."

"Yes, yes, and we can talk all about it later, but first, get yourselves washed and presentable," she backed away to inspect them thoroughly. "You two look fresh straight out of a warzone."

For the first time, the two of them seemed to stop and consider what they looked like. A battle and then a two-day flight through the sky sure did not do them well in attire, and Lyse doubts that smell came from the pegasus alone. Besides, a bath sounded nice to them both right about now. Similarly, he did not feel like staying around to be pestered by the plethora of nobles and the press who inquired heavily on where the two have been for the past six months. As they followed their mother, giving the reins to uncertain royal stable hands and surrounded by over two dozen black cladding sentinels, Lyse felt a strange uneasiest. He felt so out of place in this position. He looked to his mother, who was so acclimated to the attention garnered by so many important people; she looked born for this. Even Massua seemed somewhat comfortable, although tense. But he and Edlund felt like fresh squires under expectation. But he is sure he could get used to it, and he's more than sure Edlund would flourish in this kind of environment. But these Sentinels. He has never seen so many surrounding the king before. And they still gave off that uneasy feeling, aura so dark and enigmatic. He doubts he could ever get used to that. And unfortunately, he won't have much of a chance. His true mission shall commence very shortly.

(X)

The city of Antalya. That was home. As Ryan rode in on his lone horse into town, carrying nothing worth buying a gem and his skills, he felt at ease seeing those waters come into view beyond the sullen hills. Anyone with an eye could see how ill-fit this land was for farming, and it was a wonder how any sort of civilization could have prospered here. But the residents and the well-informed could attest this to Hath, and Hath alone. They did not choose this land for its abundant soil and variety of game but more financial concerns.

Nevertheless, it was in just the right place to access many trade routes within the southern oceans, tapping into the vast wealth that its competitors, Empirepire, Torlak, and even Shi'Ased, must utilize. And that was what the city of built upon. It was once a merchant's dream, a significant trade capital where one could find the hand of every powerful nation even from within the badlands converge. And for a long time, Antalya was a precious gem of Hathan's wealth and played many roles in keeping them ahead of any shifts in interest. Of course, other cities nearby served similar functions, but no one can deny the importance of Antalya in the past.

But the past always has been so enticing to Ryan, because that is not the Antalya he saw before him. The once-wealthy city was merely now squalor, a mess of disrepair and ill-maintenance. The town's wealth it had once seen has shifted to its neighbors and now left a town struggling for relevance amidst the shifting interest. Now, Ryan did not see happy merchants selling their goods to the welcoming customer, but instead bitter older men trying to sell off what little they cared to have before moving on to the next city. The citizenry complained mercilessly of the decline of traffic, and their blame did not go unguided. Most of what was seen could be due to the previous queen of Hath's terrible reputation and strategies. To appeal to Shi'Ased, she sold the city itself in exchange for exclusive trade deals, leaving the city in the hands of a warlord who treated the city like a footstool and personal playground. Hath came out relatively unchanged, as the new trade routes and other prosperous port towns carried the load it once held. And when Lizbeth, the Queen of Iron, took back the city from this disposed warlord, momentary hope had come to them. Ryan was still young when that happened, but he sure remembers talk of salvation. But looking at the tattered roads he witnessed coming into town, that salvation has yet graced them. It was not without a lack of trying, but with the city so far away and the many beds of under lords and syndicates, it was low on the lists of priorities, having to rely on the local militia for some sort of hold on peace.

Yes, this was home, and Ryan was glad to be back. He was tired, so tired of being away, of constantly chasing after the next clue or string that led to nowhere. Well, this certainly can't be the end, right. He still has fight in him. But what good is a fight when you don't even have an opponent? He felt like some fool running in circles. But with this gem, perhaps this can help him. It has too.

He saw familiar faces here and there. The building in this sector was so low you could see the oceans beyond. These were, of course, the ghettos where most workers spend their time. Many were captured soldiers of the warlord forced to work off their debt with labor requested by lords of the city. They all had that same anxious look on their face as if it was wrong that they were here. Most had some level of acceptance of their fate, some just simplifying their lives to working until this debt could be paid. Others instead took their earnings to gamble or drink their nights away, absconding with the idea that they would be free of this so-called indentured servitude. Either way, the "Slave" sector can find some of the most oppressed of the citizenry. No families, and if they did, they were long gone. Barely any sense of community, just mutual indifference. The city's closest to the actual market area, where more wealthy people could get decent homes and food.

The "elite" have some mildly impressive homes there as well, but nothing beyond what can be told in even the lowliest of Empire-protected Outlands. Even that seemed like a distant place of wonders. And in between the Slave district and the Merchant district was the Service District. This is where people find work of some sort: sex work, cheap labor, construction, mercenary, or guard request. Maybe even a merchant will hire you as a hand if you are lucky enough. But unfortunately, this was not what the district was known for. Many residents will not call this place home. Instead, it was the resting place of any under lords and their various illegal industries disguised as a legitimate businesses. Smuggling operations run heavily through these roads. Every man looked over their shoulders, checked their pockets, and kept a firm grip on the blade at their side. People met Ryan only with suspicious and desperate stares as he pulled his pouch closer to his side. Yes, this was home.

He was so familiar with these streets, spending quite a bit of his adolescence wandering them. He sees very little of friends these days, and the friends he did have weren't exactly of the fanciful sort. He rode his horse nearer to the Merchant district, where Ryan could find some sorry excuse for housing. They were in better shape than the average slave enclosure, but they were not to standard living conditions. This was also where the only orphanage was in town, a sodden two-story house that used to be a storage facility for grain before the city officials purchased it as a barracks. It was abandoned for a time, but soon a makeshift orphanage was permitted to be built, and that was where Rall's Orphanage came from. So many memories came upon him once he saw it. Already kids were playing with a small ball, kicking it between the four of them. All wore threadbare shirts and pants but were clean, and they seemed to be having fun. But they looked skinny. Ryan frowned, stopping to dismount his horse and guide it further. As he was looking around the area, he suddenly heard a distinct whistle over the general buzz of the crowd that surrounded him. It was a signal. Ryan immediately looked into a narrow alley to see a hooded man waving toward him from the darkness. His instincts told him otherwise, but he walked towards him, keeping a tight hold on his reigns. It was who he suspected.

"Did you get it?" he asked nervously.

"Yeah yeah, calm down," Ryan tossed him the pouch holding the large ruby. "I ought to shove the thing down that throat of yours. The info you gave me, I wonder why I even took the job."

"Well, you got it, and your alive, my friend," Ali opened up the pouch, wide-eyed at what was inside. He gave a toothy smile to him, then to Ryan. He had known Ali long enough to know when he was delighted. "Well done, my friend. I could kiss you first."

"After you cough up the rest of the payment," Ryan held his hand out.

Ali sighed, but of course, Shi'Asedians tend to make good on their deals. He held up his hand, a tattoo of some geometric pattern glowing on the back. Ryan felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end before the air seemed to shimmer. And then, a bag popped into thin air. It fell into Ryan's ready hands, and by weight, it was exactly what he was offered. Thirty platinum was a lot to carry around these parts of town, which is why Ali never indeed takes it. Ryan supposed that Torlakian mage stuff came in handy for such things. Ali was one of the few he knew.

"Damn, where do you find this sort of cash?" Ryan asked as he safely tucked it away inside the inner pockets of his cloak.

"Same place where this is going," He said before making the pouch and the gem it carried disappear similarly. "I bet I could sell it for at least twice what I paid you to get it."

"Just don't sell it to the wrong guy," Ryan said. "Guards said that Uther is in town. I'd lay low if I were you."

"I wouldn't have to if, you know, join Bok."

Ryan sighed. "You know I don't play around with that stuff anymore."

"Come on," Ali urged. "With your skills, you could be getting all sorts of jobs and such. The under lords have all sorts of ears. They could even look for this Talin thing you're looking for to whatever."

Ryan chuckled. "You're all the ears I need. Besides, those Underlords are nothing but trouble. sooner or later, the Cardinal is going to start cracking down on you urchins."

"Like a bounty hunter has any right," Ali laughed. "And I doubt that Cardinal or Hath gives a damn on cracking down on the Underlords. And Bok has eyes on something great coming down the pipeline, you know."

"Oh really?" Ryan asked curiously. "Like what?"

For the first time in this meeting, Ali got in close, really careful of who might be listening as he looked around. He handed a card to Ryan underhandedly and pulling into his ear. "Come down to the docks, and you'll see. Things are about to"

A slight rustle. Ryan spun on his feet as Ali backed away. His hand was to his shortsword before he had fully turned, but before he could pull it free, all he saw was a ball rolling into the alleyway. Then, a few moments later, a kid ran in to retrieve it, spotted Ryan, and froze in place. Ryan smiled kindly, putting away his short sword. He didn't have to turn to see that Ali was invisible; it was his reflex. He walked up and leaned down, patting the kid on the head as he looked up at him with bright recognition.

"Ryan?" he was young, ten if Ryan lasts, remember.

"At least you remember me," Ryan chuckled softly.

"Caleb, what are you . . ." Another presence. A warm one. Around the corner, someone else came about in a hurry. Older by far than the others, around his age, and his smile only deepened upon seeing her. Her dark oily hair was well-groomed and kept in a tight braid. Her round face was cleanly washed, and the low-hanging dress fairly cleaned, though he bets that it will not remain so for the day. She had that tired look as if she was already hard at work even at this hour of the early day, but she still carried a timid youth to her. When she saw him, a visible pause caused her to stumble nearly into the alleyway, which then settled into a hard inquiry. Avery was always this way and didn't appear so amiable towards Ryan's appearance.

"You're back," she said.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "I'm back."

"Been almost seven months," she said.

"Really? Seven months already?" Ryan sounded more nervous than he ought to be. "Man, time flies on the road, doesn't it?"

She audibly sighed heavily, urging Caleb on back to the main road. "Go on now back to the others. You don't want to keep them waiting. Ryan and I have a little catching up to do, don't we?"