Two years after Prince Heiko witnessed the death of his father during the 91st Battle of Tyton, and subsequently, the defeat of his kingdom, he was sent to the gates of the victor, armed with nothing but empty words and a command from his elder brother to form a treaty of peace. 

Two years after General Celestino Adesso released the arrow that felled the great king of Simo, he is presented with the youngest of his sons. Though barely a man at seventeen summers, the prince was far from wet behind the ears. In fact, his tactful yet brazen form of statecraft vaulted him far beyond his years. Coupled with his draconian mannerisms, and a knack for callous pleasure, it was only a matter of time before Celestino caught a whiff of something sinister. 

But Prince Heiko was no fool. He was betting heavily on that sharp nose. He wanted a sense of dubiety to gnaw at the general. He needed to create mistrust in his elder brother in order to build credence in himself. Because he knew of Celestino Adesso, and of the illustrious king he served. He knew they wouldn't trust him over his elder brother any more than they would trust a raincloud to bring sun. He knew that to those men, he wasn't honorable, and because of that, he was forced to play the games he was known for. The ones that conspired in the dead of night, the ones that spoke no words but shifted kingdoms. The ones that could obtain the allegiance of General Celestino. Little did the young prince know, however, allegiance was not all he would obtain. But no matter how much Heiko wanted to offer the man what he desired, he could not - not while bound to the gods. 

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Hallowed Be

Cele cast his gaze to the priestess, and then beyond her, where King Ingo stood, tall and stoic. There was no hint of amusement on his features, as there had been since the day Cele had met him. His guardsmen were not with him, which made the general wonder if that rule was of the prestin or of Ingo himself. 


In retrospect, it was odd that Ingo did not come over to harass Rudolf or Kaifin - or even Cele. His smug attitude had disappeared but was seamlessly replaced by an air of reticence. It seemed foreboding and put the general on edge. 


He would've pondered longer on the king, had Jan not lifted his arm to ring his silver bell thrice more. When Cele returned his eyes to the Muse, he offered an elegant bow before retreating behind the bench of the Holy Critics, so as to witness the challenges himself, as well. 


Devising the Board - Part 19