Ruins And Royalty

An Interrogation - Chp 2 Part 3

I was sixteen when I was sent on a task meant for warriors far older and more skilled than I. Farmers had been complaining of a creature that ravaged their crops under the cover of night. A few of their cows and sheep had vanished as well.

Before long, I found myself hunting the beast alongside seasoned palace warriors. To our horror, the creature was a chimera. Its grotesque form far beyond anything I was trained to face. The battle was brutal; we managed only to wound it, and it vanished back into the wilderness. The other warriors hailed it as a victory, but to me, it felt like utter defeat. Driven by a desperate need to prove myself, I broke from the group and pursued it, ignoring their warnings.

The chimera fled to the Erebryn forest, and I followed blindly, heedless of the creeping shadows and twisted trees. The moment I crossed the forest threshold, the world tilted. Darkness pressed down on me, a suffocating weight that made my chest ache. The air moved as if alive, yet no wind stirred the leaves.

Then chaos erupted. Voices chanted in a language I did not know, footsteps and rustling circling me from every direction. My head pounded like war drums, and dark, floating figures stretched grasping hands toward me. I stumbled forward, barely conscious of my own movement.

I blacked out repeatedly. Each time I woke, I was somewhere else in the forest, once clutching a dagger, the next drenched in blood. My body ached with poison, my stomach churned as if trying to expel the world itself, and I feared death with every pulse.

Finally, I awoke for the last time in the throne room. Blood coated me, and the lifeless head of a lion lay at my feet. Faint murmurs rippled through the room as my eyes found my father approaching. Before I could speak, he seized my wrist, raising my arm high.

“My son has slain the chimera!” he declared, and the room erupted in cheer.

Even now, I do not know what truly happened in the forbidden forest that night, how I fought, what I did, or how I returned to the palace with the chimera’s head.

“No one ever walks out alive. The Gods must favour you,” the druid claimed, her fingers brushing the tip of my sword away with a teasing ease.

“That does not answer my question,” I replied, pressing the blade back to her throat.

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” she countered, her smile wicked.

“I don’t have patience for games,” I snapped, irritation flaring. “Soon, you’ll be nothing more than a head on a wall.”

She let out a melodic laugh, light and mocking. “I would love to hear more, but unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to. We will meet again, but for now… like once before, you won’t leave empty-handed.”

Her words barely registered before movement behind me drew my attention. I spun, sword raised, just in time to block an attack from a bandit lunging toward me. Blades clashed, sparks flying in the moonlight. I shoved him backward, but he barely kept his footing, launching again.

We traded blows in a tense rhythm. Each strike, each block tested reflex and nerve. He faltered, sword dipping below his shoulders, leaving his face and neck vulnerable. Instinct took over. I tightened my grip, lunged forward, and with a swift horizontal slice, his head fell to the ground in a sickening thump.

Silence followed, broken only by the dull thud of his body hitting the earth. I exhaled, surveying the scene, unimpressed.

What a weak opponent.

Blood splattered across my tunic, and I wiped it away casually with the back of my hand, picking up the severed head by its brittle hair. I studied the bandit’s face briefly, then pushed the unease aside.

The red-headed druid, the glowing snake amulet, the gathering, and her uncanny knowledge of my presence in the forbidden forest, it all churned a knot in my stomach. Not from gore, but from her aura of quiet menace. I worried for my Kingdom, yet a sigh escaped me. Soon, I’d be in Atlas, far above these mortal struggles.

Sword in one hand, severed head in the other, I retraced my steps, praying my horse hadn’t run off. At last, Dayron awaited, unimpressed. Scowling with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Was that really necessary?” he barked, disdain dripping from every word.

“No, I wanted the druid’s head, not his,” I replied with a shrug, a faint smile curling my lips.

“You don’t have to indulge the King’s morbid whims,” he scoffed, mounting his horse.

“This isn’t for him,” I said sharply. Dayron’s blind loyalty to our father made my skin crawl.

“Do as you will. The others are already heading back to the palace,” he said, dismissing me. “I’d like to move as well.”

With a final glance at the head, I mounted my horse and we set off, the forest swallowing our path as the distant lights of the palace shimmered ahead.

The walk from the doors to the far end of the throne room, where the King and Queen stood flanked by our siblings and the Windane family, was oddly satisfying. When I came to a stop, I flung the severed head across the polished marble floor, blood streaking the pristine surface like a dark ribbon. Gasps echoed through the atmosphere as every gaze in the room fixed on me, but Dayron spoke first.

“My King, this is the head of the bandit working for the druid, female, long red hair, yellow eyes. She appeared to be about my age.”

“So I’ve been told by the riders who arrived first,” the King scoffed, irritation tugging at his words.

“They disgracefully fled like frightened children,” I added before anyone else could speak, furrowing my brows. My eldest brother would have likely apologized for the mishandling of the mission; I, however, was not so inclined.

“This mission was a failure... no useful information was gathered,” the King barked, anger threading through his voice.

“I must object,” I said, a scoff escaping me as I lazily gestured toward the head. “I cornered the druid myself before this bandit interfered.” I would not be chastised for the failures of others.

Whispers rippled through the room, curiosity sparkling in the eyes of the Windane family. My gaze inevitably fell on Zander, his expression a mixture of worry and intrigue. The Queen remained stoic as ever, slightly bored by my theatrics.

“Enlighten me,” my father said, his anger subdued but still simmering. I turned to address him, ready to speak.

“I think it’s best we discuss this in private,” Dayron interjected, his hand subtly motioning to keep the Windanes out of the conversation.

“Agreed,” The Queen said, stepping forward to clear the room.

Soon, the throne room emptied, leaving only the four of us. We moved to the west wing, into the study where my father often conducted his work. There wasn’t much I could reveal. The druid had spoken only in riddles. I recounted the encounter in the vaguest terms: her appearance, her urgent departure, and her ominous promise to cross paths with me again.

The King and Queen pressed for more, but I had no intention of divulging additional details. The amulet remained of interest and my father claimed he would have his scholars research the matter.

Morning arrived with the usual routine, and the events of the night felt less harrowing in daylight. After completing my usual regimen, I set off toward the armoury when a cloaked figure approached me, his movements slow and deliberate. When he spoke, his voice carried a rasp, as if it had not been used in years. “Excuse me, my Prince, but may I ask you a few questions?”

I nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“It concerns the druid you encountered,” he said, his tone edged with urgency.

“And what would you like to know?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I recognized him as a member of my father’s scholar. Thalesion.

“Come with me. I believe it’s best if we speak in the library,” he instructed. I nodded in agreement, curious despite myself.

The marble steps rose before me, carved with such precision they seemed born from the cliff itself. My hand brushed against the balustrade, warm beneath the sun, its curves adorned with curling vines that spilled green over the stone. To my left, the sea stretched vast and shimmering, each wave catching the light like hammered bronze. The scent of salt drifted upward, mingling with the perfume of wildflowers tucked into the terrace walls.

Higher still, the stairs curved gently, revealing pots of crimson blooms set carefully in alcoves. Their colours blazed like torches against the pale stone, guardians of beauty marking my passage. Ivy clung to the wall beside me, its tendrils curling with a kind of reverence, as if the very earth sought to follow me upward.

And there, beyond the last turn of the stair, stood the library, its doors framed by carved columns, shaded by the boughs of ancient trees. A haven of knowledge at the edge of the world.

A door inlaid with gold opened to reveal the council, to my surprise. Their eyes followed me as I passed, a mixture of scrutiny and expectation. At the centre of the chamber, beneath a domed ceiling that spilled daytime, stood an older man, distinct from the rest. Dark curls framed his freshly shaven face, and a white Chlamys cloak trimmed with red and gold adorned his shoulders. In his hand, a scroll gleamed.

“Forgive the intrusion, my Prince,” an elder said, stepping forward. “For safety, we need to ask you some questions.”

I inclined my head as he gestured towards the council member. My stomach sank as I realized who he was.

“Good morning, Prince Aaron. I am Gaius Barmus, head of the Council,” he said, his smile formal, tight. “We have made our acquaintance when the council first arrived from Palisade.”

I huffed internally. My father’s scholars probably ran to the council with the previous night’s events. “We would like a word-for-word account of what the druid said to you,” he demanded, cutting straight to the point. His tone was dismissive, as if he himself had better plans for the day.

“She spoke in circles,” I replied, choosing my words carefully. “She only mentioned that she had other plans for the evening.”

“Anything more specific?” Thalesion pressed, eyes sharp and unwavering.

I shrugged. “Her words were cut short when the bandit decided to attack.” The words felt hollow, but I had no intention of revealing more than necessary.

“Why did she not kill you?” he continued, scrutinizing my face. Gaius waved him off as if it was invalid for him to be asking the questions.

“I don’t know,” I said with a sarcastic scoff. “I’ll ask her next time.” His disapproval was palpable, but I refused to elaborate. This was a waste of valuable time.

“This is no time for jesting. No one walks away from a druid unharmed,” the scholar scolded. I forced a nervous smile, willing this confrontation to end.

“Clearly, I can,” I replied, taking a step back.

“It is imperative that you take this seriously, my Prince. She could jeopardize the Games of the Gods,” Thalesion stated, calm but with an underlying edge.

“She recruited bandits to steal an enchanted amulet, furthermore, when I chased her through the forest, she claimed that we will meet again. Beyond that, I do not know,” I replied, keeping my tone steady, hoping it would suffice.

“If she returns, you must inform me immediately,” Gaius insisted, locking eyes with me. The weight of his gaze pressed against my chest, cold and unnerving as if there was more he wanted to say.

“You’ll be the first to know,” I lied, maintaining my composure. Eying the man ever so suspiciously as he turned to his scrolls. Thalesion’s gaze darted between the two of us, bothered by the callousness of it all.

"You are dismissed,” he finally said before meeting Gaius’s side in a haste. Upon exiting the library, I descended the polished stone steps in a rush, when a faint scent of wildflowers drifted past me along with a figure. I froze mid-step and swung my head around, just as I had suspected... it was the young Prince of Yarrow.

“You might want to think twice before going in there… you could end up under interrogation,” I teased, though the humor faltered the instant I saw his expression, so tightly restrained it mirrored the memory of our last encounter.

“I am to translate a scroll for the Council,” he replied curtly, avoiding my gaze entirely. My instincts urged me to speak, but the memory of how poorly our previous conversation had gone made me hesitate.

“You’ll have to excuse me. Urgent matters await,” he added, his tone polite but firm, as he continued up the stairs.

Flustered and caught off guard, I hurried down the steps, my thoughts a jumble and in my rush, I nearly collided with the last person I wanted to see in that moment.

“You seem to be in quite a hurry. Off to somewhere important?” A bright gaze and wide smile met me, one hand resting on my shoulder.