Chapter 24 - Feather (2)

It's been four years and it has been difficult for their family, though some find it as an opportunity to strike while the palace seems dormant. The inside feels like a chilling storm of the night, filled with silent cries and bitter pleas.

Deair takes a deep breath, bracing herself for the scream or roar that may come at her upon her decision. She needs to do this, at least the twin needs this.

Her slender finger turned the knob, revealing the same room she used to spend her time inside with the Queen. The one who revealed the fact that her wolf existed, though she can't see her.

The room is still the same, adorned with a satin curtain, a bed with intricate carving on the headboard placed on the left side of the room, oak cupboard and a soft looking couch in the middle.

The Queen lay in bed, breathing but seemingly dead. Her white pale hand clasped within her husband's palm, his cheeks feeling the soft skin.

He furrowed his eyebrows upon the noise of the door opening, growling in annoyance as he raised his head. Only to find Deair's golden orbs staring deep into his with a scowl gracing her face.

"It's been four years."

He knows that fact better than anyone. No other creature would be as diligent as him in counting the days and months since his beloved turned into this state, but she decides to utter it anyway. He gritted his teeth in annoyance.

"Don't you think it's time to leave this room," Deair takes a step closer, but not too much. She is afraid that he will feel threatened and go wild right before her.

"I don't want you to give up," she continued, even though she herself had somehow given up. She pleaded at him, the words that could perhaps make him move from that chair, "I want you to start thinking about your kids."

Rydan growled, eyes flashing with menace, that topic had sent a thousand invisible knives deep into his heart, but there's nothing he can do. He doesn't want to leave her side. Not when there's a possibility of him staying by her side would give her the strength to live on. Not when that possibility still managed to give him a faint hope. He didn't want to leave her side just yet.

Deair knows it as well, but still she continued. 

"They have grown up."

He knows because they would always spend time inside this room, but then leave when they couldn't convince their father to leave the room with them.

"In four years, Artha will have his own Mate Ceremony."

Rydan grit his teeth, feeling it turn sore within seconds.

Deair still continued, "the following month Elrin and Alron will turn nine."

Silence apart from the sound of soft breathing from the Queen.

"Brother!"

Rydan roars at her, "Leave!"

• • ⊱∘────·☽༓☾·────∘⊰ • •

It takes a whole day from Wasteland territory to the Land of Qye, a whole day. The flooding creatures bustling and crowding the port greatly made Crion grumbles in annoyance. A creature with pointy ears and dark blue eyes had explained that these sudden crowds are caused by the Lantern Festival held in Qye.

Those that had purchased a pass to onboard the ship even had to wait three days before being able to board. Slyn Port is the only not so official port in a barbarian and brutal place such as Wasteland.

A land without proper names, the only place where those deemed unworthy of life could live without worry. Creatures such as wanted prisoners, runaway leaders, daylight robbers, treacherous and terrible men had all come to this land to seek safety.

Despite Qye's oath of never blindly judged and punished creatures, those who seek them will always start searching inside Qye. Thus Wasteland existed thereafter. A place without a leader, written rules, silent oath or prominent figures. The place where the creatures could come and go without a proper record or identification.

Grumbling inside, Crion try to push further, trying to outpower ten times bigger looking creature standing in front of him. The bald creature with red eyes breath harshly through his nose, staring at Crion without budging a single inch. Crion flinches, he pat the creature's stone-like chest and smiles awkwardly before shuffling out of the crowd.

He can't give up though.

A hand grabs his shoulder, he turns around to find a considerably old man smiling at him.

"Troubled, ah?"

Ugh, visitors.

Crion grit his teeth, he hates this type of creature, those who speak to him with a fake accent from Phoenix Tribe. Yes, his face structure is similar to those runaways from that tribe, but he is an authentic human. Not that he can disclose that particular information.

More than fifty percent of creatures residing inside Wasteland are from Phoenix Tribe, an ancient tribe that values its women and first bloodline of its generation. Not to mention its strict rules to marry from the same circle of generation, most of the runaways are boys that are considered worthless or girls that wanted to marry out of their tribe.

That was perhaps why the thick accent or strange way of speaking from that tribe are considered the language of No Man Land. Truthfully speaking, he didn't want to be categorised as them.

Crion was about to ignore the man, but his next words had made his feet stay rooted on the ground.

"You need a ship. I need information"

Crion pulled up his eyebrow, a little bit suspicious. The man smirked down at him.

"You seem different from other creatures. Clothes and bearings, faces and conducts, called it instinct if you want. But I'm not talking with you to waste time."

Crion slowly assessed the man before him and seemed to acknowledge what the man had said. He would accept any compliment coming his way, especially from a rich looking stranger.

Though the person before him tried hard to look as common as possible, the obsidian bracelet on his left hand and spotless high quality leather cloth had revealed his identity, a rich looking stranger.

However, one thing that catches Crion's attention is the black and white crest on his left chest, a black wolf nestled within the crescent moon, the insignia of the Kingdom of Suttern. 

A serious looking rich stranger.

"Follow me sir," Crion decided to hear him out first, perhaps he had the information the man was looking for.

"We can't talk in the middle of this crowd," Crion walked away from the crowd, trying to find a quiet shelter where he could talk, his eyes searching while he questioned the man behind him. "What kind of information you wanted, by the way my name is Crion, your name sir?" Crion turned his head while walking along the side road.

The man's dark blue eyes catch Crion light one.

"I'm looking for a fairy named Yonvatir, a runaway from Qye. You don't have to call me sir."

Crion was about to tell him a thing he knew, when he continued.

"And the name is Ahron. Ahron Suttern."

Oh god. He is a rich bastard.

The Royal Prince of Suttern.