| A Strange Prisoner |

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

| The Kingdom of Azalon ~ 17 years ago |

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Arnald?" He raised his head to the call of his name, looking at his beautiful wife's face which contorted into one of worry.

Stretching forward brushing the few strands of wild hair behind her ear, "You don't look happy, tell me what's bothering you?"

Retracting from his grasp, she took a step backwards.

"Arnald?" She called again, looking down, twirling her index fingers. "Please stay longer." Tears brimmed her eyelids.

"Joycelyn." Arnald felt heartbroken upon her words, hating himself for causing her pain, "I can't." He hated himself more for his response.

He couldn't forsake his duties even if he wanted to, his ego was also clouding his reasonable thinking.

"Arnald, think of our son, our family, please!" She begged, the tears flowing freely now.

"Father?" A young voice called from behind, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

"Allen, go back to bed, it's not yet morning dear." Joycelyn wiped her tears frantically, displaying a broad smile for her son.

"Allen, listen to your mother, there's nothing to worry about." Arnald wiped his palms on his shirt.

"Alright, Goodnight Father, Goodnight Mother." Allen staggered to his room.

"Goodnight Darling!" They replied in unison, Arnald holding onto his wife's waist, putting on the pretence that everything was alright.

*Click*

The sound of Allen's door close, jolted them back to reality, their smiles dropping instantly.

Joycelyn squirming from his touch. "You still won't change your mind?"

"I'm sorry but I can't, we still have a delicate situation to attend to at the Castle." He avoided her gaze.

"More important than our family?" She questioned.

"I'm sorry!" Was all he could come up with.

"You've made your choice." She shook her head. "I'll be retiring for the night then."

"Joycelyn?!" He called out to her retreating figure.

°I wish I could stay!°

~~~~~~~~~~~

| 7 years Later |

~~~~~~~~~~~

The news of the Princess leaving the Kingdom spread like wildfire.

"Princess Maelin was driven away, no wonder he is labelled a tyrant King." A lady shook her head, examining a tomato she wanted to purchase. "Have you heard? Some citizens were reported missing. They say it's the work of the King." She whispered.

"..."

"That would be 50 Azals." The seller finally spoke, shinning a broad smile, flashing his broad fingers, awaiting his payment.

"Whaaat? That's unfairly high!" She exclaimed, removing the tomatoes she had picked into her basket.

"How about 45 Azals?" The seller suggested, rubbing his fingers, his gaze on her bag.

"I would-" A grip on her arms shook her slightly, forcing her to drop her basket in fear.

"Madam, you're coming with us." A deep voice to her left spoke, looking upwards, the luster of a metal helmet made her knees wobble.

°Oh no! The Infernals° The lady panicked upon recognising the armor.

"Please, spare me!" She cried. "Please tell them they have the wrong person!" She screamed, reaching out to the seller.

°Good thing I didn't say anything implicating° The seller shook his head frantically.

Hitting the counter of the seller, the infernal mark was placed on it.

"That would be all, carry on with your work." The Knight ordered.

Backing away, the seller trembled as he watched the woman being tied up, a gag in her mouth. Throwing her onto a spare horse, the basket trampled upon as they rode off, leaving a cloud of dust in it's wake.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Tsk tsk..." A man shook his head as he watched from his forge.

"That lady was right, Princess Maelin was unjustly sent away." A blacksmith spoke to his apprentice, hitting a red hot carbon steel, hammering it into shape.

"Master, please lower your tone, we could be heard!" The apprentice pleaded.

"What would they do? Kill me?" He laughed out loud.

The apprentice looked on in shock at his master's careless use of his words. Everyone knew King Ragan's tolerance level was grimly shallow, who knew if the Knights could be listening in on their conversation as they had done with that lady.

The Knights in the Kingdom carried out their activities in secret, but those who spoke against the King would always mysteriously go missing or , leaving only their flame mark in their stead. This was why they were called the Inferno. Although it was ironical, they spring up when a rumor begins, mellowing down the murmurs of it's citizens until it's extinguished.

"Master Piers?!" His eyes widened at his master's indifference.

"Gerard my boy," He held onto his apprentice shoulder, laughing heartily once again. "You seem to forget It's only my family who knows how to forge weapons in this Kingdom, you should consider it a blessing I've decided sharing this knowledge with you. With my advanced age, no heir to carry on the family's legacy, I might as well train someone I trust, right?" He patted Gerard on the shoulder.

"Right!" Gerard chuckled, sweatdropping.

"Now where were we?" He sniffed the air, "Something doesn't smell right." He observed.

They both turned their attention to the furnace which emitted a cloud of smoke above them.

"You didn't close the blast furnace!" Master Piers slapped the back of Gerard's head. "This is what I get for slacking off in my duty. Here I am with an apprentice I consider as my own son." He spoke to himself, exasperated.

"Ow!" Gerard rubbed his head, "But Master, the cover is broken. You made me add more coals than usual." He deadpanned.

"..." Master Piers narrowed his eyes at Gerard for pointing out the obvious.

"I apologise," Gerard laughed nervously, backing away. "I'd get right to fixing it."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Sir, the King requests your presence." A Knight saluted to his commander.

"Is there anything I should be aware of?" The Knight Commander asked.

"A man was brought into the Kingdom, he is being accused of all the strange occurrences which had occured in our Kingdom, Sir." The Knight replied. "He awaits your presence, in you know where." He whispered.

"That would be all then." He dismissed the Knight, taking his leave to the King's favorite part of the Castle.

~~~~~~~~~~

| Royal Stables |

~~~~~~~~~~

"Sir Arnald! To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?" Master Garrison beamed on sighting the Knight Commander.

"Old friend!" Sir Arnald pulled him in for a hug. "I came on the request of the King."

"As usual." Master Garrison deadpanned before they both burst out laughing.

"It never gets old." Sir Arnald wiped a stray tear caused by his laughter. Clearing his throat he switched to his serious mood. "If you would excuse me then, Master Garrison." He nodded his head.

"Sir Arnald." Master Garrison returned in like manner.

~~~~~~~~~~

"My King!" Sir Arnald saluted, going down on one knee.

"Arnald!" King Ragan stroked his Friesian horse, "I assumed you have been briefed on the situation."

"I have Sire, what do I need to do? Consider it done." Sir Arnald assured.

"Hmmm." King Ragan narrowed his eyes. "You're in charge of interrogating him, we need all the information we can get from him." He ordered.

"As you wish Sire!" He bowed.

~~~~~~~~~~

"So-" Sir Arnald leaned on the prison cell bar, looking down at man in his middle age, his brown hair dishevelled and cascading downwards as he hung his head low in despair, his clothes in no better condition as he was. He sat at the corner of the gloomy cell with nothing but a straw covering to cushion his body from the cold floors.

"You are the one who has been causing trouble in this Kingdom, huh?" Sir Arnald traced the bars with his key.

"..."

"Aren't you going to say anything? I'm just here to help." Sir Arnald flashed a big smile, wishing the prisoner could look at him.

"What is your name?" Sir Arnald tried again.

"..."

"This is getting frustrating, how can I help? If all you do all day is sit there being all miserable." Sir Arnald angled his head, holding onto the bars, trying to get a better look at the prisoner's face which was concealed by the shadows.

"Mmm." The prisoner gave a grunt, turning his attention to the wall, his back faced towards the Commander.

"Hey!" He hissed, "you don't need my help then." Sir Arnald sighed, dropping his hands to his side, he turned around leaving.

"My... my family, p... p... please spare them." The prisoner finally spoke, his voice weak and depressed.

"What do you mean?" Sir Arnald came closer to the cell.

"Save them... save them." The prisoner rocked his body as he chanted those words over and over again.

"Where are they? Why should I spare them? Why do they need saving?" Sir Arnald couldn't comprehend the snippets of information the prisoner spoke of.

"..."

"I can't help if you don't speak and express yourself." Sir Arnald yelled in frustration.

"..."

"Fine then." Sir Arnald turned leaving.

°Why did the King assign me to this prisoner?° Sir Arnald balled his fist in frustration.

Looking behind him, the prisoner watched as the Knight left in frustration. Crawling forward, he held onto the bars, a smile gracing his lips.

°He is the one who can help me°