Seven days. That was how long Ardos had spent cooped in that god awful chariot. Now....the chariot was exquisitely designed and very classy, and on top of that it had it's own quarters built in just for him. The chariot was more like a miniature room in all honesty. And on top of that the servants and bodyguards most certainly had it worse, though they were still sleeping comfortably.
He had requested to travel alone, but his father had adamantly denied his wishes and sent him on his way.
"If you die...the family shall be greatly impacted. After all, you are my only heir, so if you were to die the repercussions would be grave. Additionally...you are to be wed in a month! How could you even think of going alone?"
"But father" pleaded Ardos, before he was cut off once again.
"Don't push your luck boy! The fact that I'm allowing you to even travel to that vile city is extremely generous. Now pack your things and get out of my sight."
Ardos had been given no choice but to comply and as a result, had suffered the boredom of spending seven days drudging along in a chariot with people too afraid to even engage in basic conversation with him.
'Yet again...I'm being chained down', thought Ardos to himself solemnly. This thought was accompanied by a long sigh. He was about to fall asleep when a servant charged into Ardos' quarters.
"Sire...we've arrived! These are the gates of Corvachia!"
Ardos got up with excitement, relieved that at long last he had arrived at his desired destination. He almost didn't believe it for a second, which was why he practically swung open the door separating the inside of the chariot from where the driver sat.
He was immediately greeted by looming stone walls, the last and final barrier for those who had managed to traverse the rocky, mountainous pathways that led up to the city. The mountains themselves were not particularly that treacherous, as they were rather small in nature, perfect for mining to further bolster the city's bustling economy.
Ardos had been to many family parties, where nobles from different houses and cities would praise the ingenuity of the mining system that had been established in Corvachia. But seeing it in person as he had throughout the trip, Ardos hardly felt impressed by it.
It felt rather rudimentary, and unrefined. Perhaps it was suitable for the small minded little hearts of the nobles from those parties, people who were content with the minimal level of progress the mining system had established within the kingdom. But their standards were minimal indeed.
After all, to them everything in this kingdom was like a plaything, and everyone like little toys...running around in their greasy palms. They approached their duties as nobles like an audience did to an exciting play. They were sorely lacking in perspective, because to them any worldview that wasn't there one was unnecessary. They were content to sit back and slurp the enamoring wine known as power that was always readily at their disposal, letting themselves waste away behind the country's powerful military as well as their own positions.
The lack of any sort of profundity or depth in perspective was embarrassing. And the fact that Ardos was associated with these people in any way was even more embarrassing!
But still...despite the disappointing nature of the mines surrounding the city, he couldn't help but admire the atmosphere it created when going into the city.
Suddenly, a servant tapped Ardos's shoulder, robe in hand. His face flushed red and he realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt, meaning he looked quite ridiculous to not only the guards standing outside the gates but also to his own men.
Thankfully he was still wearing pants, loose ones yes, but pants all the same. Still though, it was rather unbecoming of a man with the title of 'noble' to be casually standing, half naked before the walls of a great city.
After slipping on his robe, Ardos retreated back to his quarters, not even daring to look into the eyes of the servants there in the cabin with him. Though they were most likely faces of amusement, in fact, he even heard a few snickers in the back...which did nothing to soothe Ardos's shame.
After opening and subsequently slamming shut the oaken door to his quarters, Ardos crashed onto his bed and pulled up a mirror from his nightstand so that he could examine his features.
Ardos was a rather attractive young lad whom had garnered the attention of many young noblewomen throughout his brief lifetime. All of which were drawn to a different characteristic of his. Whether it be his long and luscious blond hair, or his sharp green irises. Some had found themselves drawn to his well toned body, some to his stout jawline, there were even women who had found his pale skin attractive.
But Ardos wasn't looking in the mirror to admire his features, but instead to make sure the makeup the female servants had applied earlier was in perfect condition. He couldn't afford to look indecent amongst the elite businessman of Corvachia. He outranked them yes, but in a city like this they had so much power, that if he had made a fool of himself before them it could risk his family's reputation.
The fact that he was even here, and the matters he intended to discuss with them was position threatening enough, he couldn't afford any other mishaps in case the discussion with the businessmen went awry.
After ensuring that the carefully applied makeup was fine, Ardos took off the robe the maid had given him and changed into something more formal. He wore a black surcoat with an elegantly patterned doubtlet underneath, as well as a leather belt and boots. The surcoat was embroidered with a golden threaded crest, specifically the crest of the Calastre's.
Every noble family and city in Volicheus had its own signature animal to set itself apart. Altravia, where Ardos lived, had the emblem of the fox whilst the Calastre's logo was a majestic stag. The only notable animal which had yet to be assigned to any location or family as of yet was the wolf.
The stag was one of the few things Ardos liked about his family. His reasoning was purely aesthetic but he simply couldn't help but admire the intricacy of the crest's design. The way the stag had been sown as if it were leaping, the golden hue of the stag...it was nothing short of genius.
As Ardos was admiring the design a shrill voice interrupted him from across the door. "Sire...we have arrived at the mansion", said the voice. Ardos immediately fixed his doublet and strode out of the chariot.
Around his own lay two beautiful mansions, one made of oak and the other out of some form of brick or stone.
While the process had many noticeable flaws, the amount of natural resources yielded as a result of the mining were definitely a positive. Practically every house in this part of the city incorporated the fruits of the mining in some form of another.
Ardos's mansion was built upon a seamless combination of polished wood and stone, like most of the homes in the area. It had three stories and a gate fashioned out of pure silver, making it rather magnificent in appearance.
But Ardos had known all of these details beforehand, being as he was the one to purchase the house.
"Shall we go in sire...." asked one of Ardos's bodyguards. In response Ardos merely gave a curt nod and proceeded to enter his would be home for the next several days.
The house...was most certainly worth the purchase. Neither the floor nor the elegant red carpet had even a speck of dirt on it, and the house looked as if it had just been made....despite having been booked several months in advance. Gorgeous paintings adorned the mansion's walls, and on the second floor there was even a bronze harp to further enhance the artistic mood of the place. The differently shaped balusters on each staircase did nothing but bolster that atmosphere.
Ardos couldn't help but to admire the interior decorating. His room especially, had been designed exquisitely. The carpet that outstretched from under the bed pleased Ardos especially. But the view of the city was even nicer. He wanted to gaze at it undisturbed...and so he commanded the guards outside to not enter under any circumstances unless Ardos called for them.
But sure enough, just as his eyes began to rake over the bridges stretching across the city's canal... a guard burst in, frightening Ardos.
"Sir Ardos, there has been a report of suspicious activity around the general area...I advise you not to step out for the time being and be on the lookout."
Ardos sighed and turned towards the bodyguard. His expression signified a clear disinterest, but he quickly adjusted it into the form of a smile.
"Say...Gareth"
"It's actually Roger sir, Gareth is my older brother."
"Yes yes, Roger, Gareth, whatever. Tell me....have you ever been pestered by an insect, one which you find exceedingly difficult to swat?"
"Sir...?"
Ardos sighed impatiently, before once again contorting his face into the falsely sweet expression he had used to engage the man in conversation.
"I asked you" spat Ardos, "if you have ever found yourself irritated by an insect."
The guard gulped before answering nervously.
"Yes sire, I-" the man stopped to straighten his back; "I have. Is there an insect around you currently which you would like me to dispose of?"
"Why yes there is Reagan! Unfortunately this insect takes a rather troublesome form. He is wearing dull, heavy chainmail and his voice sounds like a strangled dog."
"That's a rather strange-"
"AND" said Ardos, determined not to be interrupted. "He, not even a minute after I announced that I would not like to be disturbed, decided to come barging into my quarters with some dull report. Do I not look like the kind of man who has the time to be aggravated by monotonous report?"
The guard's face was hidden by a suffocating helmet, but Ardos was sure he had a rather uncomfortable expression under there. Eventually, he bowed and took his leave without saying a word.
"And DO NOT come back again, under any circumstances, unless I SPECIFICALLY request for you to do so."
The man did not respond, Ardos suspected he was too frightened to do so. This made Ardos feel bad, but instead of apologizing he simply collapsed onto his bed. He actually had known the guard's name, he knew the names of everyone who served him.
After all it would be simply hypocritical to not do so. After all Ardos strove to be the kind of noble who actually cared about the people around him. Nevertheless, it was certainly much easier to get a point across when he wore the guise of one of those shallow, conservative bastards who had become practically synonymous with the idea of a noble. He had pretended to be one of them for most of his life after all.
And that was the attitude he had shown to the people whose duty was to care for him. He didn't like it, but it was painfully easy to slip into. Especially when he was angry or emotional, like he had been for the majority of the trip.
For the majority of his life he had put up the front as a means to conceal his true thoughts from the other noblemen, but now he feared it was becoming a part of his identity....and that scared him.
He needed a break. It was difficult to cloak oneself under a persona as toxic as this one, even if it was for a short while.
'The city looks nice' Ardos thought to himself. And before he could even think about what he was doing, he grabbed a cloak from amongst his things and impulsively leapt from his window on the third floor. Thankfully, he landed safely, even though he shook a little bit. But that wasn't the main issue. The issue was the recklessness of the decision he had made.
As Roger had reported, this area, despite being the safest section of the city...was still prone to an abundance of thieving and murders. But yet, Ardos felt compelled to leave the mansion and any traces of himself which he could identify with nobility.
He himself didn't understand why now of all times he felt so bothered, but he decided to follow his instincts and leave the mansion.
As Ardos wandered around the city, he noticed an abundance of intriguing sights. Stalls and caravans selling some of the most exotic products Ardos had ever seen, men and women with profoundly abstract and absurd fashion, the place truly felt alive. There were so many little interactions happening all around Ardos, so much movement and commotion. Scantily clad thieves jumping across rooftops, trinkets clearly visible in their hands, men smoking puffy rings from preposterously ornate tobacco pipes; even the underhanded actions taking place around him only served to fascinate Ardos.
'It's so entertaining' thought Ardos to himself blissfully.
It was so enchanting down there, but yet...Ardos was still unsatisfied. He was hardly even conscious of it but a nagging sensation within him made him feel uncomfortable. The way he thought about what was happening here, was almost like the other nobles. It was like he wasn't even present witnessing it.
The reason Ardos had come here was to escape the burden of his status, but now, the more he thought about it all Ardos could see was the distance in between him and the people around him.
Even the men in masks, who were closest to Ardos still felt so distant. Because they still had the freedom to express themselves in whatever peculiar ways they desired. Ardos had features just as unique as they did, but his were biological.
He had been born and bred to be just as attention drawing as the men in masks, and was able to achieve that and more without even needing to decorate himself. But at the same time, those people were free to do what they liked with the abnormality they flaunted.
Ardos wished to do that desperately. He wished to have a choice in how he used his body and in how he applied himself, but if he did that he would be be 'unfitting of nobility', and his dreams would become impossible to attain.
And in that case, Ardos would have nothing to live for.
But yet the alienation Ardos was feeling now had seemed to go beyond the nature of his nobility and the restrictions it placed on him. It went beyond just Ardos's rank. It was as if even if all of Ardos's titles and riches were stripped away...he would still feel this cold, empty feeling that spread throughout his body and gripped his very soul.
And it kept expanding. It was as if the more he thought about it the stronger it grew.
Recognizing this, Ardos fervently should his head and pulled the cloak on tighter in an attempt to immerse himself further in his surroundings.
'What is this that I am thinking about? I should just enjoy my surroundings instead of being a buffoon and letting it go to waste.'
After cleansing his mind with that mentality, Ardos attempted to approach one of the market stalls and pull himself away from his self deprecating spiral of a thought process.
But suddenly he felt a tight clench on his shoulder and a sharp poke in his back. He tried to jerk his head around and see who was holding him, but a steely voice prevented him from doing so.
"I would advise against moving dangerously....you might push the blade in deeper than it already it is. Now...where is your mask?"
"My mask?" Questioned Ardos. "You mean those odd animal disguises that I see everywhere around here?""Don't play dumb with me" snarled the voice. It had a feminine quality to it, so Ardos presumed that the individual threatening him was most likely a female."You're quite feisty aren't you? What's your name lass?""I'm not telling you you son of a..." The girl paused, grappling to regain her composure. "This is not a conversation, this is not a casual discussion. I am demanding that you give me your mask.""How boring. But fine...let me tell you now, I don't have a mask. I just came to this city, so you'll gain nothing from me."The girl sighed impatiently, before suddenly prodding the knife at Ardos's side even deeper."You're not fooling me. I know you're one of those wealthy shits, even though you wear that stupid cloak of yours. And I know you're not some foreigner...so where is your mask?""First of all girl" Ardos said, pretending to be offended. "I am a noble, not a 'wealthy s
Aurelia couldn't help but to think about the man named Ardos. Their discussion had lasted a mere thirty minutes but even now, two hours later, it remained plastered within her mind.The two had discussed a variety of topics. From their respective backgrounds, to their roles within the city, and even more personal family related matters. He had been the one primarily asking the questions, and there were points when the conversation even felt like an interrogation.But strangely, she didn't particularly mind that. She didn't needed someone to vent out too anyways, and while she had been hesitant, the unexpected conversation had provided some much needed relief. Additionally he was a good listener and when he did share things about himself, was very transparent in doing so.What stuck out to Aurelia most though, was the way he spoke about his dreams. It reminded her of her brother and the way he asked her questions about the stories she told him, only in this case it was far more eloquen
Every time Aurelia had stolen a life, she'd looked at herself in the mirror. She expected herself to turn into a monster, for the blood on her hands to soak her entire body and transform her into some demonic, malformed creature unrecognizable as a former human. But every time she looked, all she saw was a girl. A regular girl, with dark skin and black hair with frosted white tips. A regular girl whose hands shook constantly when she was afraid, who was only fourteen years old.A sister, a daughter, a child, that was what she saw and this sight was what saved her. But so was her code. Her promise to never take a life unless she was ordered to had been her salvation. Like a thread allowing her to hold hope for herself, that maybe she could be more than an assassin or a thief. That maybe she could be accepted for her skin tone and eye color and all the features which she was forced to hide, and which differentiated her from those up top.It was these characteristics, which drove her to
In the city of Corvachia, three primary markets exist. The Merchant's Market, for the elite in Bayrond's square to trade the most lavish and exotic of materials, the Raven's Market, for weapons and poisons and other mysterious substances, and the Commoner's Market, for those forced to live in between the two ends of the city. The Commoner's Market provides basic living materials and is very simplistic in nature, perfect for the small majority of individuals not rich enough to live in Bayrond's Square, but who have enough to prevent them from needing to go to the Raven's Market.There are also those who don't have enough to sustain themselves in a stable manner, but whom also choose to not make their money in the underground, and instead keep themselves going on the meager jobs that can be found in the dwelling areas of the commonsfolk. Most of these individuals are children who settle in the alleyways and form small communities there to survive. The abundance of these groups has grown
Elesett Álmodozó was a knight. He was a man of average height, with dark skin and almond shaped eyes. His irises were onyx black, his hair was curly and his face was dotted with freckles. What was most impressive about him, was his musculature. He had a sculpted body with glistening abdominals, pulsing triceps, and a sturdy back. However despite how physicall imposing he was, he made for a rather poor fighter.He was hesitant to swing a sword and in single combat was quite ineffective. There was a running joke amongst his squad that he was the perfect of example of why to not judge a book by it's cover. Their latest task, had only solidified the truth behind that notion.Before them, lay a sub-human of the Dalkyvith kind. The creature ran a small pub and was quite well liked despite his appearance. He had a bloated belly and stubby legs meaning he couldn't move very well. He was six times the width and three times the height of an average human after all. His skin was red and warty li
Following the discussion, Ardos strutted around Bayrond's square and even some of the surrounding areas of the city, attempting to observe it more closely. He noted the elaborate bridges stretching across the canal, the geese which fluffed their feathers and chatted in their strange tongues as they drifted across the water's surface, and even a couple boats cutting through the man-made river. The boats carried a variety of spices and artifacts from distant lands, catching the eyes of many. It was a much needed distraction for these people, who often found themselves looking at Ardos. He simply had a presence, one which shone from amidst his cloak. It was quite frustrating indeed. Funnily enough however, the boats, despite their size and grandeur, never actually left the city...nor even the square for that matter. They were created solely for the purpose of showcasing the variety of materials merchants often collected from distant lands. Despite its wealth of merchants and businessm
The moment Alder's shoulder was touched, he recoiled instantly. In his heart, was a primal fear which raged inside off him. The image of the man who touched his shoulder flickered with that of the one who had attempted to grab for him at the canal. His breathing became heavy, and his vision clouded. He was terrified, so utterly terrified of that figure. The figure of a slim older man draped in jewelry, extending towards his body. But no, the intent was different this time, and Alder could feel it. He forced himself to relax his body and curb the panic that had begun to build. "A-Are you a prince?" He asked meekly. When he asked that question, there was no particular intent behind it, no focus nor meaning. It was simply the first thing he could conceptualize with his innocent, simplistic mind. He uttered the words shakily, uncertain of the response it would bring. To his relief, the man smiled, a genuinely warm smile, and took back his hands so Alder could lay eyes upon his face. I
Aurelia regretted hitting Alder as soon as she did it. The way his face rolled around upon contact, the look in his eyes in the short fraction of a second between getting hit and passing out, all of it unnerved Aurelia. She didn't have a choice, they had to move before they were found, but she regretted it all the same. But before she could give in and let herself break down even further, she grabbed her cheeks firmly and focused. 'Don't be weak, you have stuff to do. You can worry about the sentimental shit later.' With that resolve in mind, she leapt from the ground, peeling her eyes away from her fists, and ran towards the tent. She didn't have time to reminisce, she simply had to grab as many sleeping materials as she could. The blankets, the pillows, anything that would provide at least a base level of comfort whilst they attempted to relocate. She had no time to focus on the cooking materials, nor the storybooks, nor the toys. Because to do so would be to bring her back to th
Not good enough. These words were lacking in understanding, this tone without spirit, this ink devoid of passion. Had such a speech really come from the hands of Ardos's pen? Was this really how he intended to impart himself on this city?What arrogance. The kind that could only be presumed of a man who did not know the city of crows. Who had not yet seen the sight of a boy choking on poisoned air, who had not been able to save a child from assault, whose eyes had not been accustomed to seeing corpses strewn on the ground. Corpses which looked like him, which had his same sheltered eyes.This place wasn't just a city shrouded in shadow, but one carved in it. The shade extended everywhere, to this house, this desk, to everywhere but his feet. The only one exempt from it entirely was Teresa, but she was a miracle which defied expectations. One protected by the hands of the god who sheltered her and the crest which marked her fate.As long as she was pure….nothing else mattered; but no,
Pale skin, now caressed in the reaper's hands. Clouded eyes, now empty. Golden locks, no longer flowing by her own will.Lysander saw the woman's corpse as it was extracted from the brothel. Lodged in her chest was a knife, her hands fixed upon it, unmoving.She had killed herself, abruptly. Suddenly. Without apparent meaning or buildup. Did she pine for the world beyond this place so much? Was she so burdened by sorrow that she chose to end it all? Did he bring this upon her through cursing her with his drunken touch?These questions raced through Lysander's head like arrows strung from an invisible bow. One chiseled from yew bark perhaps.It didn't matter. These thoughts needed to be discarded from his mind. The reason for her death was insignificant. Just more oil to the flame that swelled in his chest, another phantom on his back.But he couldn't help but wonder. It was a wisp of a thought, but it perplexed him. The mystery of what she was living for. Her eyes had been mystified,
Before his eyes could process, before his ears could catch the spilling, before he could feel the liquid as it distorted his solid world, he smelt the blood. Like copper from deep under the ground. It was familiar to him, for most coppers he had seen came dyed in crimson. Crimson, the color of revenge. Only he had yet to feel such a sensation. Like an arrow it emerged from the depths and struck his soul, penetrating it with a smell reserved for coins. He liked copper, for it gave him power over the rats and the dark things. Not as much power as gold, but gold burned. It held a desirable yet insatiable luster, but not one which could be grasped yet. No, for now he would settle for copper. Intermingled with the coin's complexion was satisfaction, but not enough to be called nourishment. He hated that word, for words had power over the hearts of man, and a word like 'nourishment' was especially dangerous. So were all the other words engraved into gold, for they could not be bound to the
When it was all over, Alder could not help but stare at the knight's corpse. The sight brought to him a tinge of disappointment. When they came every two months to ask for payment from the older boys and girls they seemed so menacing. Alder had known not what they intended to do, but their presence just felt so...distinct.'Where was that impression now?' he asked himself. Perhaps that quality came not from them, but from the armor they wore. The scene in the alley is what happened when a weakness was found in it, and this was what happened when they were without it entirely.He rose slowly from the ground, trying to pull himself away from the grotesque sight, but he kept being pulled back to it. It was entrancing in its repulsiveness, like some sort of dark message from god himself.He still remembered the cold feeling of the stones in his hands as he threw them. It was invigorating, as if some spell had been cast upon him.'What are you so happy about?' he thought to himself. The si
The sound of cheers disrupted Alder from his spiral of thoughts. They came suddenly and with great force, a sledgehammer to his ears and a liberator from his mind. He sprang up instantaneously, afraid for where such sounds came from. Outside his window was a massive gathering. At least a thousand or so odd ruffians, bordered by several well dressed individuals comprised the crowd.They were all clapping and cheering at the sight of a singular individual atop a stage. The man appeared rather unremarkable. His clothing was of high quality and his appearance quite polished, but that came with a rather average build and appearance. His face was not even showcased, for he hid it under an ornate mask. What could be so praiseworthy about a man behind a mask?But yet he was celebrated all the same, and with great intensity too. It was remarkable...as if he were some sort of god amongst men. Just looking at him was enough to dispel all Alder's doubts and fears. He wished the moment could last
From his oversized closet of a room, Poelle could hear the drunken ranting from his father as if it were happening right in front of him. He had been too lazy to come witness the speech, but Poelle was hardly surprised. When his wasteful wreck of a father wasn't cursing or beating him, he was ranting about bygone times and drowning himself in mysterious substances. Strangely enough, he hadn't touched Poelle in quite a few days. In fact, he only had one noticeable welt on his abnormally skinny body now. But Poelle hardly cared...how could he after all? That man was an animal, an inhuman beast trapped inside a sack of flesh. His bat-like features only accentuated that. And yet despite his hideousness, Poelle's mother, a human had fallen in love with him. Yet he still dared to curse her name? And hurt the son they had birthed together? And waste himself away whining about his heritage and the distant lands to the South from whence he came. It was pathetic. When he was younger Poelle
Lysander commanded respect with every step he took. He had changed into a white coat with a flaming red Phoenix embroidered on the back. He looked truly like a savior, one prepared to rebirth this city from the ashes and reform it anew.Yet, despite his appearance the presence he seemed to cast in Aurelia's mind had become slightly clouded due to doubt. She still had faith, but part of her was skeptical. She had been told very minimal information about what Lysander's plans entailed, and she had simply chosen to trust him due to the salvation he promised.'Stop it. You've always been easy to change things up. These last several days have done nothing but solidify that. Just show a little follow through goddamit! Have some faith!' she followed this thought with a spit, and by doing so cast out all doubts she had from her mind forcefully. 'Besides, you can ask him about the specifics after the speech. Just do your job and get moving.'"So, Aurelia...what happened to your contacts?" Rans
He was bound. Bound from speaking, bound from moving, bound from even seeing. Submerging him in darkness. Darkness like last night, darkness like the scary places he had wandered into for the first time. His throat was raspy and his stomach yearned for something, anything, to satisfy his hunger. He flailed about, trying to create some semblance of motion, trying to defy the invading, violating abyss which manifested in his mind. He could not imagine anything, for if he dared those vivid memories of last night would crawl back into his conscience and rip him apart. Yet by doing nothing he could not fight them either. For the faces, the corpses, they all began to emerge around him in the emptiness around him. All he could feel was the solidness of a chair, and the itchiness of floor against his bare feet, tying him to this solid world. He used to hate chairs, especially ones as uncomfortable as this. But now, his greed had been stifled. His perceptions had become more complex, and the
After meeting with Lysander, Aurelia had spent the rest of the day relaxing with Alder in a new home he had secured for them. It was a full two story house on the edge of the underground, and was made of oak. The polished exterior revealed a very homely interior, with a cozy little fireplace, two sleeping quarters, and a basic kitchen made of stone. Aurelia had lived in a house once, with her parents, before they were killed. But she hardly remembered it, so by all means this was the first time she had truly lived inside a house.The pillows were stitched with flower patterns and seemed to stay consistently cool, allowing the rest of her body to embrace the warmth of the woolen blankets. Aurelia slept for the day's entirety, letting her body melt into the mattress and revel in the bed's embrace. Not a care passed her by during those moments of comfort, for she was enamored with the bed. Not the idea of the bed, or the feeling of sleeping, but the bed itself, in which she was able to f