Ashovania's Demon

Chapter 2

Sharecroppers and farmhands attending to the vegetation and raising of animals. Crystal blue rivers flowing throughout the villages. Dwellings made of stone and clay. A simple place, which to the close-minded is heaven, or as they call it,Arcadia. The area blossoms with nature due to the effects of the rune. This land is called Zeddorin, and resides as the capital of Avalon.

Some soldiers are wounded and bleeding heavily while griping the dragons' reins to pilot a safe landing. Unlike the Prince, they killed more than one to survive the siege.

"We live to fight another day, your majesty," chirps Leo, a dark-haired, fairly handsome man, with a long scar across the side of his face.

He possesses the type of charisma strong enough to hide his shadowy side from everyone, including himself. Women fall for him often. The Prince could hear the optimism in Leo's voice. Itfeels like toxin to him, invading his gutless heart.

"Hold your tongue until we have landed," he blurts out harshly, immediately regretting it. After all, not only does Leo believe in him, he did save his life.

An unruly mob is protesting at the front of the Prince's castle. They're chanting and yelling loudly, while being handled by the castle guards.

"Share the rune!"

"This is not our war to win. The Prince has gone mad, he is no soldier. He is a rotten child!"

"Without the King, we are hopeless!"

Leo notices and signals to the tower watch guard to lower the gate so they can land and enter without snags. This type of arrival became standard.

Inside, the Prince sits in a bejeweled chair at the front end of a long, elaborate dinner table. He feels odd in the bejeweled chair. His father loved that chair. He spent his childhood mocking it. Now he's resting in it.

The table's organized and spectacularly cleaned with every type of proper utensil. Along with fancy white plates bordered with gold rings over the imperial tablecloth. He wipes his face in annoyance as his servant, a scowl looking old man with a vulture-like posture, long stringy white hair, and yellow stained teeth eagerly steps in. He could be pushing one hundred years old.

"My Prince, the crowd does not want violence. A woman, their leader, just wants a quick word with you," drools the servant.

"I have been cleaning blood out my fingernails for the last two days. My mind is more poisoned than before, I alone must helm this kingdom. My father..."

The servant interrupts him with no fear at all. He only feared the King, not his pup.

"But, one small meeting, and they will leave. They feel as though you're avoiding them."

"You caught me tired servant. I am not alert enough to reprimand you, nor should I. You're right. I cannot procrastinate on this issue anymore. Bring her in," blurts the Prince, removing small fragments of dead flesh from under his crimson beard. His face squared, much like his chin, with oval eyes that seem perpetually anxious, no matter the false bravado displayed. There's femininity in his gaze, as if he's always looking through something or someone.

A heavy woman with large breast bursts into the room. She lays tearful eyes on the Prince, and then kneels. Even though it's his first time meeting her, the impression feels rehearsed.

"You may address me," the Prince commands. Getting used to his new position in Avalon, his head swollen.

"Your highness, I have been at your door for three days straight, no food. The enemy has burned my children at night during their raids. I have been r***d in front of them. In front of my husband, who was humiliated and killed trying to protect me. My story rings true for all women in the village. I beg you! End this war!" bellows the woman. Hopelessness clutched to the end of every word.

"As painful as your testimony is to my soft ears, my lady I cannot end a war I did not start. It is a legacy; I inherited war, violence, and chaos. I hate it just as much," replies the Prince.

"I cannot accept this, my Prince. My body has been defiled; they branded me during the r**e. A symbol of two serpents, a symbol of the Alastair. I cannot sleep," yells the woman, on the verge of hysteria.

"And neither can I!" rebuttals the Prince.

"Just give them what they need to grow. The power of the rune can be shared you know this. If not for your father, we..."

Wrong choice of words.

"Quiet your tongue worthless woman, before I defile you myself. My father, your king, made a power move to bring Avalon's advancement. If not for him you wouldn't even own that home. The leisure and paradise we provide our people. Avalon has no pollution, disease, you breathe clean air! Bring me a solution besides that, a winning solution. I will not disobey my Father's will. The Arcane Rune is ours forever," exclaims The Prince with vigor. Every single word slicing the woman's broken heart like razorblades.

"But we will die your majesty!"

He doesn't budge.

The Prince, empty of altruism, waves his hand. The servant, with assistance from the guards, scarcely remove the woman from the room, kicking and screaming. The door closes with a heavy echo. Hollow like his heart.

"I believe she was related to the female in your recent task, sire. Kin of Felicity. Has she returned with you?" questions the servant.

The Prince spots dried blood in the palm of his hands. The same hands he could've used to pull Felicity to safety. Her blood is on his hands, and Leo will never know the truth.

"Poor Leo, my most trusted," he murmurs to himself.

The Prince breathes hard. Exhaling his latest fiasco into the ether. Slothfully, he finds himself in his father's chambers. It has numerous and wildly colorful stained glass paintings of the King, and in every illustration, he looks more and more like a god amongst men. Making the Prince feel smaller and smaller.

The King lies in a coma on a bed with unlimited machines hooked to his body and an EKG showing a faint heartbeat. Advanced medical equipment adopted from Alastair engineering. They're that desperate to save him. Many nurses and doctors scrambling about, checking charts and x-rays. One of the charts displays his name as 'Gamon.' The Prince waves his hand once more for them to leave, they exit. He sits on the bed near his father and strokes his hair. Feeling like their roles have reversed.