A Foul Fantasy - Ashley Angoe

Martel

Gongs start to go off.

There's commotion moving on every floor below; as my hand rests on the barricade and I peer down the archway from my level to the narrow hall.

Tonight, the skies are overtly shuffled with stars, and something about how there are distant cries of a man reverberating and ringing through the blood-red walls of Porma, makes me swallow fear.

My feet land on each narrow stair with care and the weeping only grows louder.

"I didn't do it!! I DIDN’T TOUCH HER!!" The man begs.

The clang of soldiers bounding forward resounds closer.

My heart catches in my throat, and I swallow to keep still from panicking.

My feet advance on the cold tiles, my fingers are trembling by the second I reach the gates.

Outside the gates, on the dais into Porma, there's a youthfully dark-haired, tall man with his clothes torn to bare rags tainted with blood

Martel.

Xalen's younger brother.

Streaks of blood cover his exposed skin.

I quickly ascend a level on the staircase to hide, as father strides from the end of the hall with five guardsmen on either arm; and then he walks out of the gates towards the bloodied man.

Like a predator.

...

Martel lifts his pained face to father, his eyes refuse to meet the King.

Either from the fact that he's terrified of what fate awaits him in that cruel face, or he's hurt at the accusation to which he has no relation.

My heart drops.

I poke my head out behind the wing of the angel's porcelain statue.

Father's own stature is a stoic, hard flex; looking down at Martel with less mercy than a predator shows his prey.

His hand goes to his back and he unslings his longsword in a graceful swipe.

Streaks of the falling moonlight illuminates father's crooked nose and the wilted side of his gold crown.

"Bring Riya." He commands the guardsmen.

...

I come out behind the angel after the guardsmen have run up the stairs to my chamber to find me.

My hands ball on my sides out of temptation, I kill my hesitation with a sharp inhale.

Then I step out.

The crowd of Wecksling circled outside Porma, lets out a dramatic gasp at the sight of my bare feet and the gown of twinkling silver I have on.

"Yes, father." I say stiffly.

Father's expression is unfathomable as he sees the shielded look on my face.

"Riya. Step forward." He commands stoically, tearing his attention away.

I take a step closer to the blood on the stones, and my toenails are filled with Martel's blood.

Then I look at Martel, whose neck is bowed towards the ground, he's looking down at the dark pool of his own blood.

"A month prior, a servant reportedly witnessed a man of Martel's appearance and physique, who was seen climbing up the castle's stones and then going inside your chamber through the window. The servant added, the man has had spent the night in your chamber. Before he ventured out of the borders of Porma the preceding morning."

I sigh.

"Can I know the servant who said so?" I say.

Father looks at me in warning.

I lower my gaze, trying to hide the flame in my eyes.

"As Martel refuses to speak. I want to hear from you, Riya. Was the servant truthful in his report?" Father asks. I can see his trust shaken on him.

"Martel has not refused speaking. He has denied anything of the sort, truthfully. This is blasphemy." I say, my chest rises and falls temptingly.

"Are you saying the servant has attempted a false accusation?"

I keep my face stoned. Burning with hesitation.

If I said the servant lied, he would be fed to the wolves in Porma's basement, or at the least, father would order him hanged.

"Riya." Father demands, his demeanour trembling.

"I am not sure you would believe me if I told you the truth." I say.

"What is the truth?" His gaze meets mine, and this time there's the king overcoming the warmth of my father in them.

I can feel the crowd's attention narrowing in on my each word.

"I saw the man, too. But he didn't enter my chamber, he disappeared climbing across the stones. It was a dark night. Why I am hesitant to speak now is because... I forgot to report him... I was unwell."

"I never expected such irresponsibility from you." Father reprimands, in a voice close to a whisper.

I dip my head lower.

"Supervise patrolling all around Porma and outside the high gates, until we find out who had dared to infiltrate the castles!" He orders...

"There's never peace expected from the enemy." Father taunts the Seeivs.

And this time Martel cranes his neck to look at him like a drunken wolf, a beast who wants nothing less than to rip and torture the king to shreds.

The Seeivs Clan men and the royal columnists never were better than enemies, not then, not now...

"Father, let's not precede to such heights. Martel is not to be accused. We were in the wrong this time." I say.

Martel looks at me as the guards untie the chains binding him to the ground.

And I see a familiarity in his assessment of my nature.

Like he knows about me and Xalen.

I rip my gaze from his.

So everyone in Xalen's family has killer features.

"Martel, I would be pleased to invite you to stay at the castle until you are healed. As a way to rectify this blasphemy. I regret what happened tonight." I plead, and Martel stands up.

A small, childlike tilt of his mouth shatters his previous lines of pain and mistrust.

Martel nods slowly.

"I was not expecting this. You are very kind, princess Riya. And so am I, in apology of what had to occure." He turns face towards father.

"You would do this against my will." Father asks me roughly.

"I am doing this in your honor." I kiss his forehead gently and stride back through the iron gates.

In lieu of the guards bringing Martel in.

...

I come back from the arsenal with a handful of materials to help me make gunpowder from scratch.

This week, I honed my sword-bearing as a beginning combatant and my chest already feels tight with pride and happiness.

After dumping everything I need for gunpowder in the rustic workshop.

I trace the last corridor from the passage of my silver floor, hoping this is where the servant told me I would find Martel's guest chamber.

I gently beat the double-doors three times in sequence.

"Yeah. Come on in." Martel says.

"You sounded bemused. It seems like the customs of royal life are far from your liking." I smile getting inside.

"Princess Riya... this is not an opportune night, but I'm glad I got to meet you." He says casually.

"You look better." I sigh in relief at the patches of healing tonics on his bare chest and arms.

Martel hesitates for a second before his eyes shine.

"Xalen has been mentioning you. I'm not sure if it's the right time to say this, but Xalen has never talked about anyone the way he says your name."

My chest heaves slightly.

No wonder he has felt me well.

"I'm so sorry you had to bear our part of the punishment. We have been so careless fooling around. Xalen stands to blame for this." I say.

Martel grins.

"I would gladly take it." He jests.

"Big brother is on a dagger throwing tournament within the borders of Porma tonight. Sorry, I'm awful with secrets." He speaks.

"I knew there was such a tournament taking root inside Porma." I squint.

"I hope you are better soon. I loved meeting you, Martel." I say, smiling at him.

"If you need anything, just ring the bell." I place the golden jingle on his palm.

He cracks up.

"You royals have no self-reliance of your own duties." He shuts up quickly.

I laugh.

"Say no more, you are injured, I can do great harm." I jest.

Martel smiles in relief.