The Tragedy of Ravan the Great: A Rose Tree Chronicles Story

Chapter Five: All Debts Require Repayment

Ravan rode straight to the neighboring town of Mael where Lord Pierce was count, and he spent his first week there on the street. He quickly obtained a number of odd jobs and before the second week managed to rent out a small flat for himself in the cozy Sandcliff Inn. It was the day after he moved in that he decided he would make his way to Chateau Westerlay to confront Count Pierce about the debt he owed his mother. Ravan spent quite a bit of money on new clothes so not to appear too ragged upon arriving at the estate. He supposed it was better to look like a commoner rather than a peasant, and the horse he stole from Omid went a long way in accomplishing that. He rode up the tall, sandy hill to the amber and adobe mansion which sat at the top. Upon seeing the two broadly-built guards at the double ebony doors, Ravan channeled just enough energy to hide his nerves and dismounted his horse to approach them.

"I request an audience with the lord of the manor," Ravan stated.

The guards traded glances with each other. "Is he expecting you?" one asked.

"Not necessarily," Ravan replied. "He owes my mother a debt and I've come to collect on her behalf."

"What is her name?"

"Braelyn of Tariq."

One guard nodded to the other who proceeded to enter the mansion.

"Please wait here while we inform the lord of your visit," said the first guard to Ravan.

Ravan waited as patiently as he could and it seemed like a lifetime had passed before the other guard returned.

"My apologies, sir," said the guard. "But His Lordship does not recall anyone by the name of Braelyn of Tariq."

Ravan took a moment to swallow his rage. "She saved his life at a banquet thrown by the late Count Fedar of Rivas nine years ago."

"Be that as it may —"

"That was your mother?" asked the first guard over the second.

"Yes, sir," Ravan answered. "You remember?"

"I do." The first guard faced the second. "I'll take care of this. Follow me, sir."

Ravan took a subtle deep breath to steady himself as he followed the guard into the massive mansion. Ravan remained silent as he was led through the black and green interior with its gold accents. The surroundings reminded him of when he used to live on Firebrush Manor, where all the servants dressed almost as nicely as the residents. He loathed the memories and forced them away, but the aura provided by the elegant surroundings felt equally appalling.

Finally, Ravan arrived at the count's study and spotted Lord Pierce sitting behind his blackwood desk with another nobleman standing at his side. The count peered up from his scribbles at his visitors.

"What's this then?" he asked.

"My Lord," said the guard. "This is the son of the woman who saved your life at Count Fedar's banquet nearly a decade ago."

Realization showed on Count Pierce's face and he turned to his partner. "Excuse us, please."

The noble visitor obeyed and the guard exited the study after him. The count waited for the door to close before he spoke up.

"My apologies, sir. I didn't recognize the name. What seems to be the trouble? Why did she send you rather than approach me herself?"

"She didn't actually send me, my Lord," Ravan confessed. "She is unable to come on her own accord as she's being held against her will by Earl Rajashekar of Rivas. I come to you on her behalf to cash in your debt. I request you find a way to set her free."

The count breathed deeply and rubbed his face in contemplation. "I don't suppose you come with any suggestions on how to accomplish this?"

"All I can offer is the knowledge that the earl isn't about to sell her, so we'll have to break her out and execute an escape."

"It sounds like you're willing to aid us in this task," said the count.

"I'm available for whatever you deem necessary, my Lord."

Lord Pierce nodded in acknowledgement. "First, I feel it wise to send someone to learn the full extent of your mother's predicament so that we can plan accordingly. I'll be sure to send my finest mercenary to assure success. Where can I reach you once I receive his report?"

"I'm currently staying at the Sandcliff, my Lord."

"Very good, I will be in touch."

                                                              ~~~

While Ravan waited as patiently as possible for word from the count, he continued to work his odd jobs and stash away as much money as he could so to afford passage out of the country the very moment he was reunited with his mother. Mostly, he worked on a farm just on the outskirts of Mael, which was his best source of income. During his downtime, he could be found at the public library poring through scrolls and taking intense notes, researching the Bone Root. After the library closed at the end of each day, Ravan would take his notes back to his flat where he would review them by candlelight late into the night.

Over a week later, the wait for a message from the count grew more agonizing so that Ravan's focus toward his research and studies became difficult. He couldn't help imagining all the worst possible outcomes of the investigation, or the possibility that Count Pierce lied and wouldn't actually contact Ravan about anything. Eventually, Ravan gave up on his studies and spent his downtime at the local tavern to drink the awful thoughts away. His regular spot was at a small, sticky table at the far corner of the darkly-lit establishment where he could eavesdrop on all conversations and not be noticed.

Two weeks after his conversation with Count Pierce, as Ravan began to consider plotting other ways to free his mother, a large man dressed in shining armor and a dark cloak entered the tavern and approached Ravan with a scroll in his hand.

"Good evening," greeted the soldier as he took a seat at the table.

"Evening," Ravan replied without moving a muscle.

"Is it safe to assume you are Ravan, son of Braelyn of Tariq?"

Ravan couldn't help feeling suspicious. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Captain Ilya," said the soldier. "I command Lord Pierce's mercenaries. I was assigned the task of investigating the circumstance involving your mother."

"I thought I was supposed to be summoned once that was completed so to discuss our next course of action," said Ravan.

"Indeed, that was the plan originally, however something else came up during the investigation." The captain handed Ravan the scroll. "I'm afraid the news isn't good."

Ravan hesitantly accepted the scroll. "I was afraid of that. Would you be so kind as to explain the contents of this scroll to me? You see, I am anxious for the knowledge, but I feel I am incapable of reading it myself. I understand how that may be difficult to —"

"Say no more," replied the captain. "I understand completely. I'm afraid that... the subject of your inquiry... passed shortly after you were sold to the Baron of Rivas. She's buried in the earl's private burial grounds beside a cherry blossom tree. The details are spelled out in the report when you feel you're ready. You have my condolences, sir."

Ravan clutched the scroll in his fist and swallowed his tears. "Your sympathy is appreciated, Captain," he choked.

"His Lordship concedes that his debt goes down to you, so if you ever need anything, you may consult him."

Ravan's gaze shot from the scroll to the captain. He wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. Count Pierce could consider conducting this investigation as repayment, but still he was allowing Ravan to inherit the debt.

"His Lordship is very generous," said Ravan. "Please let him know how grateful I am to him."

"I'll be sure he gets the word. On a separate note, word is quickly spreading about your escape from the slaughtering grounds. You would be wise to keep your identity on a need-to-know basis. Rest assured your name is safe with us."

Ravan searched the captain's face for signs of dishonesty, but only read truth. "Thank you, Captain," said Ravan. "And thank you for your services."

"It's always an honor to serve," said the captain as he stood from his seat. "I wish you the best, sir. Good evening."

"Good evening."

While he rode back to his flat with the scroll in his fist, Ravan mulled over the conversation he had just concluded with Captain Ilya and what he had learned during it. Count Pierce owed him a debt of which he could cash in at any time. He considered demanding passage out of the country, but the whole point of going to Alaric was for his mother. His mother was dead, and she had died shortly after he had been sent to work at the slaughterhouse. This news changed all of his plans — he would have to rethink everything. Where would he go now? The fire elemental side of him said that where didn't matter so long as he got out of the country as soon as possible. But the human side of him said that he should be wise when cashing in this debt. Ravan could very easily save up enough money to purchase passage out of the country; in fact he was very close to doing so already. Surely there was something that the count could do for him that Ravan couldn't do for himself. So long as Ravan kept his identity secret, he had plenty of time to decide what he would ask for from the count while he studied and saved more money for his quest for the Bone Root. While his mother was gone, he could still utilize the root to protect any future family.

When Ravan returned to his flat, he tossed the scroll onto his writing desk and paused. There was a nagging part of him which had to know exactly how and why his mother died and he had to quiet the demand. With a calming breath he took a seat, unrolled the scroll with trembling hands, and read over the captain's report. To his horror, Rajashekar had put his mother down almost as soon as they had returned to Firebrush Manor because she refused to accept that Ravan had been sold. Ravan didn't know whether to cry or scream. To think that ever seeing his mother again had been hopeless the entire time he had served at the slaughterhouse! All that time spent waiting, planning, imagining was wasted. Ravan's trembling violently intensified and suddenly he felt hot. What was the point of hoping, waiting, or planning at all when matters were most likely completely hopeless from the start? But even still, even as he read it, Ravan couldn't believe it. He had to see it for himself. Where had the captain said she was buried? In the earl's private burial grounds beside a cherry blossom tree. Ravan threw the scroll against the wall and stormed out of his flat to visit the grave and see the truth with his own eyes.

                                                              ~~~

Ravan secured his horse about half a mile from Firebrush Manor and crept the rest of the way to the property, making sure to take cover in the shadows. Once he arrived just outside Earl Rajashekar's private cemetery, he hid among the thick bushes which lined the graveyard and scanned the area for any sentries. Then he searched for the cherry blossom tree the captain had mentioned, only to discover there were quite a few of them spotting the grounds. What ever made Ravan think this would be easy?

Ravan tried to think about where in the cemetery Rajashekar would bury Braelyn: nearer to the estate or farther from it? Considering how sadistic the earl was and how poor Ravan's luck was proving to be, Ravan guessed closer to the estate. After scanning for sentries one last time, Ravan sneaked into the cemetery with a dim flame conjured in his hand and tiptoed from tree to tree, inspecting each headstone for his mother's name. At last, he found it at the foot of the tree closest to the mansion. It seemed very fitting to Ravan that she had been buried immediately beside a cherry blossom tree, and it filled his heart with a sweet sense of sorrow. However, once he noticed that the headstone said nothing but her name on it, that sorrow was quickly replaced with a familiar animosity. As if her name alone was enough to bring honor to her memory and who she was. A desperate want for revenge seared Ravan's heart to charcoal black as the ball of fire he held in his palm intensified with his rage.

"I will avenge you, Mother," Ravan vowed under his breath. "The Earl of Rivas will not get away with anything he has done to us. Even if it means I go down with him, I will spill his blood with my own hands by his own sword!"

The fire in his hand exploded with that final word, and Ravan recognized the distant sound of alerted voices. He struggled to put out the flames on his flesh and cloak, then jumped to his feet to dart across the cemetery with sparks still spewing from his fingers.

"Over there!"

"Hey! You there! Halt!"

But Ravan only ran faster and leapt over the bushes which bordered the burial grounds.

"After him!"

"Man the horses!"

"Don't let him get away!"

Ravan quickly mounted his horse and galloped off. He was stunned to hear hooves behind him so soon. He pressed his horse to move faster and tried to remember from which stall he had commandeered this steed to decide if he even had a chance against these experienced riders. Unfortunately, either because it was over three weeks ago or because his mind was momentarily overcome with adrenaline, he couldn't recall. Nevertheless, Ravan attempted to put the fear of God into his horse. He refused to face his father in a position of subordination, and he would die before he was forced to work beneath Omid again.

Ravan peered over his shoulder and to his utter dismay, the count's sentries were rapidly making headway. Clearly he would not elude these men with speed alone, but perhaps he could lose them with confusion. He yanked his horse down an alley and sharply turned another corner. However, by the sound of it they remained ever so close behind. Though he didn't care much for the idea of it, Ravan finally decided to abandon the horse just outside Rivas and dove among the thick brush in a nearby field to take cover. After all, a horse that can't outrun a few sentries wasn't worth keeping.

"Do you suppose he fled to Mael?" Ravan heard one sentry ask another.

"No, we would see him still running."

"Agreed, I say he set the horse free and he's still somewhere in Rivas."

"Well, in any case, Master Omid will be thrilled to have his horse returned to him."

"What makes you think that's Omid's horse?"

"It matches the description perfectly, wouldn't you say? We'll have him confirm on the morrow."

"Just a moment, if that's Omid's missing horse, then the man prowling about the cemetery would be Ravan."

"Reached that conclusion only just now, have you? Let's go, we must alert His Lordship. Move out, men."

Ravan waited until the sentries disappeared into the distance with the horse before he rushed back to Mael on foot and hurried directly to his flat. There he crashed on his bed and rubbed his forehead to relieve himself of whatever stress he could manage. That was close, and he could never get that close again. Now, he was out a horse and he didn't suppose he had enough money saved to purchase a new one. Even if he did, it would seriously set him back in saving up for his journey to find the Bone Root. How badly did he require a horse? How often did he travel long-distances? If Ravan was truly honest with himself, he could easily walk anywhere he needed to go in Mael and he had no plans to return to Rivas anytime soon. So he figured he would see how well he did without a horse before he made any drastic decisions against his savings. He also thought it might be wise to hang low for a while and wait for Omid's and Rajashekar's inevitable search parties to run their courses. With any luck, he would reach his savings goal and learn the exact location of the Bone Root before long. Then, he would end the Earl of Rivas and leave Arderé forever.

                                                                  ~~~

For the next half month, Ravan only left his flat to fetch food as necessary and work on the farm. Once harvest season was over, however, he was no longer needed on the farm and he hadn't received notice from his side-jobs for any shifts. Come early Zafirô, when all the colorful leaves had left the trees barren and the first snow-fall was expected to come any day, Ravan approached the Mael butcher with the hope of stocking up on food for the quickly-nearing winter. After paying the butcher, Ravan noticed him pause before handing over his cuts of meat.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" the butcher asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Ravan replied.

"You seem familiar," the butcher insisted. "I swear I know you."

"No, I'm afraid you're mistaking me for someone else." Ravan reached for his meat but apparently the butcher wasn't through.

"No, I do know you! From the Rivas Slaughterhouse, you're Ravan! We called you Raven because of your pointy nose!"

"Excuse me?" Ravan spat.

"Yes! You're Ravan of Rivas! It's great to be off the property at last, isn't it?" Ravan glanced around to see if anyone listened as this imbecile prattled on. "I suppose it's no surprise to see me working here, are you working somewhere? We could really use another experienced hand."

"I'm afraid you are severely mistaken, sir," Ravan insisted. "I am not this Ravan you speak of. Now my meat, if you don't mind."

"No, no, I'm most certain –"

"You're wrong!" Ravan snapped. "My meat, if you will!"

The butcher finally shut his mouth and handed over the meat.

"Good day, sir," said Ravan, and he nervously rushed away.

Ravan had planned to run a couple more errands, but after the butcher had essentially announced his identity to all of Mael, he practically felt the need to spend another month and a half in hiding. He felt all eyes on him even though he didn't actually see anyone looking at him, and all he wanted was to get off the street as soon as possible. He rushed home as quickly as he could and locked himself in his shabby apartment with a heavy sigh of relief. He tossed his meat on the stovetop and dropped into the chair at his writing desk. When would it be safe to go back out in public again? Would it ever be safe?

Ravan glanced at the food he had stocked in his flat, and then at the many unorganized notes he had collected from his research at the library. He couldn't be certain how long he would have to lay low to guarantee his safety, but what he could do was stay in his apartment until his supplies ran out, and he could do everything he could to make sure his supplies lasted as long as possible.

                                                                  ~~~

For the following half month, Ravan studied his notes with vigorous frustration — frustration stemming from the fact that he felt his notes were incomplete and he couldn't visit the library. It was much too risky. However, simply sitting in his apartment reviewing the same notes and getting nowhere only made him feel as though he wasted much valuable time. Eventually, he decided that it was worth the risk. Ravan noted the precise information that he would seek at the library before he donned a thick black cloak and left his flat acting as inconspicuous as possible. He trudged through the thick snow with its black, rune-like patterns and looked at no one as he approached the library and entered. Then he selected the scrolls he needed and conducted more research, taking copious detailed notes so that he could study them closer later in the safety of his flat.

Ravan probably spent about six straight hours in the library that day, and whenever he would pause to rest his mind and eyes, he would scan the room to make sure that no one was watching him. However, there was one person in the library who did appear to watch him. A particularly harmless-looking woman with curly, reddish-brown hair would glance at him now and then and Ravan had no idea how to read into it. So he tried to ignore it and continued on with his studies. Soon, Ravan noticed the woman packing up to leave, and because he couldn't help feeling a tad suspicious about her, he did the same and tried to move faster without being too obvious that he was doing so. Once he had put all the scrolls away, he exited the library and stepped to the side outside the door where he waited for the woman to exit. The moment she did, he snatched her arm and threw her against the wall.

"I noticed you watching me inside," said Ravan.

"Yes," the frazzled woman replied. "It's been a while since I've seen you at the library, I thought it was nice to have you back."

Ravan paused. "Excuse me?"

"You used to come to the library all the time before winter," the woman explained. "More than most others, I — I felt like we were somewhat silent friends." Ravan couldn't find the words to reply. "You mean you haven't noticed me here? I come even more often than you do."

"I'm sorry, do we know each other from somewhere?" Ravan finally asked.

The woman almost appeared offended. "I'm Evietta of Mael. You worked on my father's farm."

Ravan's eyes widened in realization. "You're the farmer's daughter."

"I'm the youngest, yes."

"Oh." Ravan took a step back. "My apologies, Miss Evietta. I've been a bit stressed as of late, it's taken a toll on my mind. Please forgive me. Good day."

"I understand," Evietta replied with a forgiving smile. "Good day."

Ravan's energy had been completely consumed by the time he returned to his flat, but for the next month he continued his studies, every once in a while briefly noticing Evietta present at the library, glancing at him here and there. He ignored her, however, eventually resolving that she wasn't a threat. At long last he felt as though he made progress. His frustration was overpowered by enthusiasm and he studied through the nights, often falling asleep sprawled out on his writing desk smearing ink all over his parchment. Finally he was able to deduce the country in which the Bone Root was located, which creatures to question for more information, and how to extract answers from them. He didn't imagine he'd be able to get any closer through research and reading scrolls alone. From here on out, it would require seeking answers in person and he was satisfied. He notated his findings and conclusions in a leather-bound journal to keep on his person and burned the rest of his notes so that no one could learn what he was up to. His quest was his own and nobody needed to be aware of it.

Ravan's research and studies were concluded around the middle of Destello when rent had claimed the last of his spending money and he was desperate not to dip into his savings. His only recourse was to see if his past employers at his side-jobs would offer him any shifts. So Ravan first approached the local blacksmith of Mael.

"Afternoon, Rell," Ravan greeted.

"Ah..." said the smith. "Ravan of Rivas. What can I do for you?"

Ravan marked the use of his hometown in his name but ignored it. "Well, I noticed that you haven't called me into work for quite some time now. I thought perhaps I should stop by and offer my services."

"Oh, well I'm afraid I'm actually fully staffed at the moment, Ravan," said Rell. "But I appreciate you stopping by. I'll be sure to reach out to you when I need an extra hand, of course."

Ravan glanced around the shop and observed only one other employee pounding steel in the back. "Is that so? And where might the rest of your staff be?"

"They're around," Rell insisted. "Some have yet to begin their shifts. I assure you, I will reach out when I need you, Ravan."

With a glance around to see if anyone was listening, Ravan asked, "Have I offended you in some way, sir? What is really taking place here?"

"Ravan, surely you're aware that word has spread about you being wanted by several nobles of Rivas. You understand why I prefer not to be involved."

Ravan paused. "I see."

"Now I'm going to have to politely ask you to leave my smith before I feel obligated to report that you were here."

Ravan struggled to control his temper. "Understood. Good day, Rell."

He left the blackmith before the situation could escalate and hoped beyond hope that word had yet to reach his other side jobs. The next stop he made was to the tanner, who downright refused to even speak to Ravan. So he moved on to the baker who quickly shooed him away. It appeared that word had indeed reached everyone in town and no one was willing to hire him back. However, Ravan felt there was one employer who was not someone to bend and break to anyone. He rushed to the brownsmith to plead his case to him, but even he refused Ravan.

"It's not as though anyone will pay me any mind as I'm heating iron in the back of your shop, Mobe!" Ravan argued.

"You don't seem to understand the level of power multiple noblemen have in this country," the smith replied.

"No one needs to know my name, no one will even see me!"

"It's time for you to leave, Ravan."

"You can't tell me I'm wrong!"

"I said leave, Ravan."

"I've worked break-neck hours for you, and this is how you repay me?"

"Officers!" Mobe called. "Officers, I've found him! I've found Ravan of Rivas, he's right here!"

Ravan couldn't believe the level of betrayal but there was no time to dwell on that. He spotted the centurions who spotted him, and they trotted through the snow to approach him. With little hesitation, Ravan took off. It wasn't long before he realized the challenge it was to pick up adequate speed through the snow. This wasn't going to work. The moment he reached the empty grocery, Ravan scaled the side of the adobe building to the top. Normally, markets were lively on the rooftops of public buildings such as this, but during the freezing winters these were the general locations inhabited by the homeless where the heat rose from the fires below. Of course, the homeless fire elementals would create their own fires up here, and Ravan zig-zagged about the firepits, the musty blankets, and the mass amounts of litter at a more satisfying speed. When he observed the gap between the building he ran along and the next one across the way, he almost panicked. But upon recalling the consequences of being caught, he pressed himself to pick up momentum and executed a daring leap, bound for the next rooftop.

For a moment, Ravan felt his stomach plummet and he didn't think he would make it, but he reached for the edge of the building with longing and snatched it with a death grip. His body collided with the wall and a shock of pain shot through him, almost causing him to release his grip on the ledge.

"There he is!" called a voice from below.

"After him!"

The voices of the centurions ignited a new desperation in Ravan that was strong enough to overcome the pain and he could pull himself up to the rooftop. Then he proceeded to run to the other side knocking empty markets stands, baskets, and rotting scaffolding into the path behind him. Ravan was fully aware that he wouldn't be able to simply outrun the centurions this way; he would eventually have to find a sufficient place to hide, or at least find a way to lose them. Now would be a good time for a decent horse.

When Ravan spotted the library not too far away, he considered the possibility of losing the centurions inside so long as he wasn't spotted entering. But with the centurions on the roof right behind him, he didn't see that being much of a possibility. Then again, he could form no other solution. The mixed adrenaline concocted from his escape-in-progress and his failure to devise a viable solution produced a vexation which fueled him to run faster. Once he reached the edge of this building, he rapidly descended the side of the wall and dashed for the library anyway. Despite the fact that he knew the centurions saw him, he entered and maneuvered his way around the marble columns, stone tables, and glass bowls of fire until he exited the other side.

Suddenly, something snatched his arm and threw him in the back of a wagon. He was about to fight the person off until he recognized the body to be that of a woman. He was unable to get a look at her face as she had wasted no time tossing a tarp over him to hide him.

"Quiet!" she hissed.

Soon, Ravan felt the wagon rolling through the snow and not long after he could hear the centurions on their horses.

"Where is he?"

"I could've swore he came out this way."

"Maybe that was someone else?"

"Scour the library, he must still be inside."

Their voices grew distant and Ravan tried to wait patiently for the driver to deem the coast clear and stop the wagon. However, the wagon didn't stop. Ravan peered out from under the tarp to examine his surroundings himself.

"Mael is still swarming with centurions," came the woman's voice. "I'll let you know when it's safe."

Ravan closed the tarp back over him and considered whether or not he should trust this woman. She seemed innocent enough, but women always do. Ravan was wanted by powerful people and it was entirely reasonable that she would turn him in. Unfortunately, Ravan verified her claim for himself when he checked to see if the coast was clear. There were centurions everywhere, so escaping the wagon would be a risk on its own. Ravan was trapped.