The Prince of Aragon

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE PRINCESS

One week ago, fifth realm of Emperor Salvatore ….

(previously known as the KINGDOM of Blanca)

“There’s news from the ninth realm, your Majesty,” one of the ministers announced to the woman sitting on the throne, with all her majestic splendor.

Her Royal Highness of Blanca, Queen of Decagon, Duchess of Valencia, Countess of Riesa, Freya Salvatore. Pearls surrounded her nested braid, with a ruby crown at the top of her magnificent sparkling amber hair. With her medium brown complexion already striking, she would have looked pretty if it was not for the excess of white powder she used on her face. Some rumors circulated that she applied flour to whiten her complexion.

“The letter has finally arrived from the castle.”

“Well? What does it say?” snapped Crown Princess Freya Salvatore impatiently, unable to bear the suspense. It’s been almost two months that her father had ridden East to check on his ninth kingdom, and there had been no news of him since. He was supposed to return in one week, and there was usually a letter sent to his minister to prepare for his return to the main Kingdom. Not this time though.

Ever since girlhood, the premonition had always been the same; her father would travel to one of his Kingdoms with no news for months. She would try everything in her power to maintain the monarchy until she would ultimately receive the communication that the Emperor has been deceived by a most trusted man.

Which meant that every time her father was away, she was not at peace, and would send messages to the ministers at the castles to keep herself updated on the news. Emperor Salvatore would have no time to respond back to her multitude of letters, a lesson she’d learned at her own expense since a very young age.

The fifth realm was the one she occupied most of the time while her father preferred regular visits to the other kingdoms. In contrast to Blanca, the other Kingdoms looked pretty small and backwards to her. Here was where they’d established most of their resources and it was the main place where they lived. She also managed other three nearby states that she frequently visited.

“The Emperor has a new right-hand man,” the Earl of Catterline explained. “It seemed that Shi ni has been defeated for the annual competition and has been replaced by the new winner.”

Princess Freya’s uneasiness grew as the hunch she’d always had felt more prominent than ever. “Shi ni’s been defeated? That’s nearly impossible. Who is the new right-hand man?”

How could Shi ni be vanquished? Freya knew the man personally since he’d often accompanied the Emperor to several Kingdoms, and she was well versed with the Samurai’s fighting skills and other talents. The man who had beaten the Sadonese must be even more impressive and skilled.

“Some Carter Sommerville?” the lord delivered tentatively, frowning down the paper like he wasn’t sure of having read it correctly.

Surprise rushed through her. “A peasant?” Suspicion settled in, she didn’t trust the low lives, they were always on the lookout for more money and power. “Does my father know about his birthplace?”

“He does,” Earl Wilfred confirmed. “It seemed that he even granted knighthood to the right-hand man’s father.”

Freya was really intrigued. Displaying mercy and gratitude was not one of his father’s forte – he was a ruthless ruler, one who stopped at nothing to achieve his own means. She agreed that he must have liked the performance of Carter Sommerville, but to the extent of granting knighthood to his father was a bit of a stretch.

“Tell me more,” she ordered crisply, her icy blue eyes squinting to give the Earl a measuring look. That seemed fishy.

“Well, it would seem that the family is one of the loyals, with the man’s four children qualifying in the top five. The Emperor was extremely pleased with their allegiance, therefore had thought to thank the father with the reward of knighthood.”

Her perfectly knitted eyebrows raised in disbelief to her hairline. “That’s so unlike him,” she murmured almost to herself.

It was true. The Emperor Salvatore, his Royal Highness had no aspiration of appearing to be a good ruler or a savior for his people. He was unapologetically tyrannical, and Freya assumed that it was one of the reasons why his followers both admired and feared him at the same time.

Of all the twenty-one years she’d known him, her father had never exhibited an iota of benevolence to anyone. Those Sommervilles must be exceptionally exclusive.

“What’s on your mind, your Majesty?”

Her eyes snapped to the man in front of her. “I think there’s something amiss going on,” she finally stated. “Four persons of the same family qualifying for the top five in a royal competition is either a fairy-tale or a set-up.”

“I could get the Sommervilles investigated if you need,” he proposed in his gravelly tone. “I can find out everything about them.”

That would take months. She was afraid that something would happen before they had the report on the Sommerville family. If there was something to be done, it would have to be immediately. A voyage to the ninth realm would take approximately seven days, and that horseback journey over the Rocky Mountains and Layered Soils was incredibly tedious and dangerous.

“That won’t be necessary,” the Princess reassured the gentleman with gratitude. “Can you prepare for a journey to the ninth realm?”

The Earl gasped in shock. “My Lady, I would advise against such a long and tiring journey, especially for a woman as delicate as you.”

“Save your advice for someone who actually needs it,” the Princess hollered unpleasantly. How dared a man of lower rank than her dictate her actions? Only because she was a woman? If she didn’t know any better, she would have assumed that Wilfred Montgomery, Earl of Catterline aspired to be her husband, and King Consort one day. No such thing was ever on the horizon.

“I apologize, your Royal Highness,” the man bowed in humility, reminded of his place, and Freya felt a perverse satisfaction as the heady essence of power intoxicated her. “I had your best interests at heart.”

“Spare me the drama, Wilfred,” she retorted in a bored tone. That man got on her nerves, every man on the court irritated her. They were too willing to bow to all of her demands, not one man was brave enough to stand up to her. They were too scared of Papa. “Ask Melinda to pack my bags for a week at most. Papa said he would be staying for two months in the ninth realm, and that period is going to end soon.”

After that, nobody dared contest her decision, although she knew that her father would be livid with rage to have his orders disobeyed. He’d clearly commanded her to stay on the throne while he was away, but there she was riding towards East to check on him.

She’d never been to the ninth realm before, she’d never even ventured to the East. It was too dangerous and barbaric. She’d heard rumors about the Wobbles, small creatures with pointy ears and a bad smell. They were harmless though, albeit a bit annoying. What the people usually warned others about were the mean creatures, most commonly known under the name of Gargoyles.

Freya had never seen one in her entire life, but she’d heard enough tales about them to be wary. The Gargoyles were odious and ugly creatures with a perverse nature to torture humans in the most atrocious ways. Her friend Barbara had mentioned that the brutes preferred young women, capturing them for marriage.

The Princess shuddered to think what might happen if she ever fell into their captivities. Despite not being a defenseless damsel, it was worrisome to be amongst those barbaric creatures with no propriety restrictions. It would be safer to take some sturdy men with her in case she needed protection.

“I’ll need protection,” she added to Wilfred, who bowed in submission.

Gargoyles, or not – she was heading East. If she found herself in face of adversity, her father had taught her to swing a sword at the age of three; she was no coward.

Shrugging aside the morbid thought, Princess Freya saddled her horse accompanied by a fanfare of horsemen and maids worthy of a royal escort. Her father would never have sanctioned such a journey, but she refused to wait and watch like a powerless i***t.

Having been born under the privilege of the Salvatore monarchy rule when her father had already conquered six Kingdoms, she was what people would call privileged. Right at birth, she had been crowned the Queen of the seventh realm at that time known as the Kingdom of Decagon and recently conquered by her father.

After two days of continuous nonstop horseback, they arrived at a barren soil where there was no civilization at all. Mińas, the place was called, and it was usually inhabited, therefore void of any impending danger. However, Freya’s fanny was hurting from the tedious journey, and she wanted to beg them to stop for a while. Her father had taken the only royal carriage that were in their possession.

“Let’s take a rest,” she finally ordered in the afternoon, her lips parched from thirst, and scorched from the blazing sun of the day.

“But milady…,”

“I said…,” she repeated with angry emphasis. “… let’s stop here for a while. Everybody’s on the verge of falling off their horses.”

That was untrue. She was the only one unused to such a long trip, the others having no means of transportation other than horse-riding have been adapted to interminable journeys since their births. Though it was highly unlikely that the low lives had traveled so far, especially the maids who had tagged along.

“As you wish, your highness,” the Earl said with a bowed head, whistling a high-pitched clear sound to signal the others that they were taking a break. If anyone was surprised by the command, nobody deigned show their stupefaction to the Royal Highness.

So, the eight horses were brought to a halt, fed and cleaned, while the riders rested their feet and took a quick bath.

Freya knew it was a very unwise decision as they had to travel with the minimum baggage and were wasting resources. However, she had other things to worry about like who were those Sommervilles who had suddenly erupted in her father’s life. Were they as loyal as the Emperor believed or was that a treachery?

People in their positions had to constantly be wary of newcomers in their lives, considering the fact that Shi ni was not someone to be easily defeated or intimidated. Freya had no idea whether to be impressed with Carter Sommerville or that he was a traitor under disguise.

All she knew was that her tiresome trip was not going to be wasted – she had designs to test the loyalty of that new right-hand man.

The plan was to go incognito, and trick Carter Sommerville into believing that she was someone else. It was only via subterfuge that she would be able to judge the man’s true character. Upon arrival at the castle, she would ask her companions to settle outside the gates before making subtle entries one by one. Nobody should know that Princess Freya was at the ninth realm – not even her Papa.

“Did you hear that?” Sir Gregory Petworth suddenly asked – he was the knight that her father had assigned, specifically for her protection. He was not only the sharpest man in the fifth realm but was also the strongest and most trustworthy.

“Hear what, my dear sir?” Melinda, the princess’s personal maid queried with a puzzled frown, preening her ears to listen in the direction the man was pointing.

“Hear that crackling noise?” he repeated. “There! Did you hear that again?” the man with a thick moustache stood up with his bow ready for attack.

Everybody was now straining to hear the noise that he was mentioning, and Freya could still hear nothing. There was an eerie silence though, like a calm before a storm, and suddenly hundreds of living bones were coming in their direction.

“Stand back!” Sir Petworth and Earl Montgomery screamed at the same time, and Freya was horrified to see creatures with only bones approaching them at a great speed. As they accosted nearer, Freya could see that they had normal human heads, stitched to a body which contained only the carcass.

It was a horrific sight.

“What are those?” she exclaimed in horror as they scrambled on the soils, and thankfully dying when the men were firing arrows at them with impressive dexterity but there were too many – an army coming their way.

“Midnightcrawlers,” Melinda managed to reply, staring in their direction with absolute fear. “Come, my Lady.”

Midnightcrawlers? Freya had never heard of them before. It stood to show how little she knew of the dangers looming, and that her decision to help her father was rash and irresponsible. Her father would be furious with her – that was if she survived the journey.

“Fire! Light some fire,” the knight cried, as the ammunition were over, and he had to drive his sword in the human faces to kill them.

“Why the hell are the nightcrawlers coming out in the late evenings?” Earl Wilfred shouted in pure panic as the creatures seemed to crawl nearer as they died with terrifying shrieks. “As far as I know, they’re only supposed to come in the middle of the night!!”

Freya would only stare at the creatures with no word coming out of her mouth, her smugness and high-handedness forgotten in that moment of sheer terror. It was Melinda who urged her to mount her horse, she was too paralyzed for equanimity.

“Your highness, go! We’ll join you later,” Earl Wilfred announced after managing to light a fire, and throwing a burning cloth in the direction of the skeletons. A massive cry of anguish was heard as the fire seemed to burn the creatures, the bones melting with the heat.

“Go!” Sir Gregory Petworth shouted taking another cloth from Wilfred, and Princess Freya didn’t need to be asked twice. Saddling her horse properly, aching butt forgotten, she galloped further away by applying leg pressure on the sides of her horse. She didn’t even stop to check whether the others were following or not.

In that moment of complete chaos, she only cared about saving her life. Her father had so many times warned her of her excellent pedigree, and that she had to save herself under any circumstances. The loyals’ lives would always come as a second priority when it came to choosing between herself and them.

It was only the thought of meeting up with Wobbles and Gargoyles that slowed her pace, and she took the liberty to turn around to note that the other horses were also at her heels. Relief seeped in. There was no way that she would manage to save herself from any more mythical creatures alone if she encountered them.

“Things are getting insane around here,” Melinda said worriedly as she came to the same level as Freya. “The midnight crawlers are evolving – it seems that the new species can bear the dusk light.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Princess Freya rasped impatiently, irritated to be the one least knowledgeable in the area. That was something she planned on remedying as soon as possible. Self-education was a must.

“I don’t know, your highness. From all the stories I’ve heard about the Midnightcrawlers is that they were never found in that part of the world, and that they never ventured until midnight. Thus, the name midnight crawlers.”

Freya glanced towards the sky to check the time. It would be hours before total darkness. She pursed her lips in utter confusion. “Has Sir Gregory and Earl Wilfred managed to get away?”

“Aye, milady,” Melinda replied with a jerk of her head towards the two horses lagging behind. Freya was ashamed to admit to herself that the solace she felt were purely selfish, her safety was assured with Wilfred and Sir Gregory alive.

That time, they didn’t stop until three days later, when Sir Gregory ordered for halt at a safe resting place. Freya could not even walk, she crawled to a rock where they removed their supplies and filled their stomachs.

Nothing untoward happened to them thankfully, but Freya was so wrought that she dozed on her saddle for the next day, unable to keep up with the lack of sleep and the crude conditions in which they were traveling in. She hadn’t considered the unpracticality of her decision when the Earl had questioned it and was paying a high price for it now.

By the time the castle was in sight, Princess Freya could no longer think of anything else other than crumbling to the ground with fatigue. The plan to go clandestine failed pathetically, but Freya was grateful to have arrived at the castle safe and sound without any death on her conscience.