Chapter 5

"Resting her crown on the fleeting mattresses of luxury was almost as reclining upon the wavering surface of the sea and drowning into its seething depths of vagrancy:

Life is the Bivouac, where no settlement is eternal."

~

The Underground Oubliette of slavery,

Northern Faction,

Kingdom of Hyll-Decanta,

Night without moon,

The first Thursnight of the Second month,

Fiftieth Year of the Reign of Adon-Vericus IV

The chill, darkness of the cell stood no chance to the hearts of the selfish.

Coils of burgundy hair spilt over her forehead as Mercedes looked down. The single swaying flame of the lone and melting candle reflected in the fair-blue eyes of the damsel whose fingers gently gripped the hems of a parchment.

"Unforgivable."

The very first word of its contents resounded in her very soul like the large ship of hatred had unleashed a great anchor that descended deep down to lodge its security upon the abyssal plains of her psyche. In fact, it was as if the leviathan of spite had been roused from the very depths of its slumber to conquer the ocean of her force. The emotion it unearthed was akin to anger, betrayal and rage at the face of injustice. There had been many a gruesome event that had caused her heart to scar.

Memories of all the tragedies poured into the battlefield that was her mind like armies of foes that afflicted a land: Fire, debris, screams of fright from everywhere, waking up midnight, heart thundering, cold sweat and running disconcertedly down the stairs in the dark, seeing dragons breathing fire over the land through every passing long open window of the stone tower's spiral stairway she was descending, as a child of only five years, her one purpose through the frightful trauma had been firm: that she was to run to the sceptre planted at the heart of the Kingdom in case of the outburst of a sudden dragon raid.

She could recall hastening like a mad woman, skirts in hand and eyes set on her target, for if she dared to turn her teary, emberred sight to behold the calamities all around, she would be petrified to a paralysis. Inevitably, there would be people being burnt in flames or hauled up in the claws of a dragon, bleeding, screaming or silenced, staring into the gargantuan, scaly, rouge and terrifying face of their death.

Mercedes wrenched her thoughts out of the pits that were her memories. There was nothing left in her power to banish them from existence even after all these two-and-half decades of mortal breath, but if she did endeavour, perhaps, the causing of further could be spared.

In the deafening silence of the cell, she could hear the very pulse of her own breath as she read the document that had dictated a new dimension to everything she had known in life:

"Unforgiveable. I am all of outraged to write to my people that the vices of this government have caused much greater a horror at the very dawn of the Regent Jurisdiction in Tristendyre's realms. What I bring to your notice this day may cause my end, for it is of grave magnitude, but even if this is the very final I would write, conveying this, my most significant of reports, shall have me safely complete the profession of all that I have written to you.

I have received correspondences from my sources that the erstwhile Queen of Tristendyre, Sable Duvessa, is still alive! This era of regency has meant the subjection of the royal family (and not awaiting the maturity of the 'only surviving' Princess to undertake matters of the State). So now, it is found that the princess is not the only sovereign blood alive. There is deeper reason for her life being spared, but the details thereof still remain unknown.

Further, this information imparted is of supreme importance, for once the reign of regency is overthrown, the Dragon Raids to our land may possibly end. Bear this: that freedom is what we truly covet; and that is freedom from the throne and not the beasts, their weapon.

It is imperative to be vigilant at the face of dangerous truth, for I deeply do believe that the forage of the dragons has largely to do with the regents. If my imposing of this information upon you invokes fear, you have my apologies, but this, despite the potential danger of holding such knowledge, may provide us with much greater hope for a future void of untimely dragon visits and death.

'Judgement also will I lay to the line, and righteousness to the plummet: and the hail shall sweep away the refuge of lies, and the waters shall overflow the hiding place.'

Isaiah 28:17

~ Nathan, the one that warns."

Mercedes closed her eyes for a moment. After inhaling a long and deep breath, she turned her gaze to stare at her palm that lacked the rich dose of melanin the rest of her body wore and lower to her forearm that seemed discoloured as a mosaic.

She recollected the events of the past month where she had come to find this letter, broken the shackles of manipulation, stolen back the Blade of Erdenguar was rightfully hers and had spread her wings to flee into the unknown where the great dawn awaited her...

How exhilarating. She had a mother who was still alive; and life at the castle's tower could no longer dictate the frontiers, within which she will be contained, because now, after escapement, the world had farther horizons to be met.

This new yoke of slavery that weighed against her neck stood no chance to all of these years of counterfeit royalty. After all, she may be the one soul, apart from the Regents, that knew the true cause wherefore her life had been spared: for she wielded powers.

~

The Grand Throne-room,

The Imperial Castle,

Kingdom of Tristendyre,

Night without moon,

The first Thursnight of the Second month,

XXI Year of Regency

Twisting his dark moustache, Regent Jehoram, seated on the throne, watched as the Arch Eccleissor Devland exited the courtroom. The Arch Eccleissorship was of noble stature in the Kingdom, second only to the Regent himself, in terms of reigning power. The decisions and executions were settled in concord between the two, save the one adjudication: the decade-long position granted to Jaycob Oreius. Devland had just completed his persuasion before the Honourable Regent that the Royal Archer, after acquisition of profits, must be exiled or put to certain death.

It was likely, however, that such petition would not be obliged to, pending concrete reason for the institution of such hostile proceedings. In bare honesty, the Regent felt no desire to sacrifice Jaycob, for he was a man greatly beneficial.

However, besides this trivial matter, the conflicting predicaments this night were most robust and trying. The next morning, the execution of a criminal will be prosecuted, for the land expected dragon raids. However, the government was faced with quite a frightful dilemma.

After the abscondence of the Royal Princess with the Sword of St. Erdengaur, the Kingdom's future seemed bleak. Taming the beast was going to prove impossible. In all his years, any voice raised against the government would be silenced, for the impugning crusaders would be fed to the Dragons that arrived to forage the country.

On the side of the Crown was a powerful far-sought asset that mankind could only dream to possess: A Sceptre vested with the faculty to control dragons. Thus, when the dragons were prophesied to arrive, the Princess would be called to bring the beast to their composure. In the meantime, the rebel will be sacrificed to the flames of the dragons before the beast is restrained.

This advantage was granted, however, on certain crucial terms. Only Princess Mercedes, royal blood, was endowed the proficiency of wielding the Sceptre. Now, neither the princess was within the premises of the Castle, nor the Blade of Erdengaur, her Sceptre. Thus, the government was being forced to falsely portray their presences. Further, the sceptre needed to be retrieved as it was the pride and heritage of solely their kingdom. Allowing its possession to be held by Vericus the IV, the Sovereign of Hyll-Decanta, would be impairing.

To add to the profuse crises faced, the Royal Coronation was to be held that coming Sun-day. It would be a difficult entreaty to impose a postponement of the enthroning ceremony, for forging the presence of the Sceptre had already required a fortnight of closing the streets of St. Erdengaur, rousing a great deal of suspicion among the Nobles and Subjects. Further, as St. Erdengaur could not be accessed, the execution of the criminal on the Pillory, Nathan Jehu, had also been respited by a fortnight, with no stated reason.

If the presence of the Princess is not produced in time, the government could be at the verge of being overthrown, for her absence in their Axis meant their absolute absence of power. Regent Jehoram rested his temples against his hand. He had charged Jaycob (who was in his discernment most dependable and loyal) to bring him reasonable grounds to decorate that the princess was within the walls of the Castle. The man had left on a journey about a week after the princess had levanted, but had not reported to have found her.

There was no means of entrusting chasseurs to engage in a search, for that would inspire tension among the people in case the news escaped. Such unsightly chaos would inevitably bring a decline to the government. Jehoram expected Jaycob Oreius's visit this hour, for he had charged a greater duty in order to justify his lies. A mysterious smile crept over the Regent's mouth, when he considered how the man was potent with arcane powers that none knew of; not even his Arch-Eccleissor. And most faithfully to his expectation, Jaycob did arrive.

"Greetings, Sire."

"My good man, have you killed the criminal and disposed the body?" asked Jehoram, most pleasantly.

"In all faithful service, Sire", said Jaycob, producing tresses of dark severed hair and a portion of cloak with stains of blood thereupon.

They smelt of Nathan Jehu and the Regent accepted them.

"Further", Jaycob leaned forward to whisper, "I bring you grave and strange news concerning the Pillory."

~