Siontuna Blackmercy

"One day, a man of humble clothing would travel Viridia and his mere presence would teach to the conservative sects, the celibates, the vestal maidens, the chaste priests, and the innocent minds- how sex, is beautiful."

-Beauty Fatalities

©

Miriam crossed her arms, she had gone to Graygreen a few nights ago yet something about its pine-fresh winds always pluck her nerves. it's a tedious cycle unfairly set upon her, like toiling the driest hectares of land, unrooting grass under the hottest blaze of the sun- only to find out that they'll grow rampant the next moon, and repeating the labour the following dawn. Such is the life of a Medium forsaken by her country.

"Miriam Blackmercy, Nightshade Heroine, Medium of the North, God-killer..." Sion never knew of his mother's titles and Miriam treasured his ignorance. She treated the boy as her own blood, hiding him from public eyes so her reputation won't damage the lad's quality of life. And she had ensured her very best that Sion would mature with a virtuous heart, unlike her's.

She is well aware that she entered the wrong carriage, what was supposed to be the Silver Lady's high seat now cuts the circulation from her little legs. Regardless, no soul from Dirge can tell her what to do. It would take a crown owner or a literal god to make her reconsider her actions once, which is what had happened.

She noticed someone else in the carriage, a large cloaked man is seated across the table in high defences, fortified like a city as if Miriam is a beast that would attack him anytime soon. He was already there way before she had entered and he doesn't dare kill the silence with the Master Alchemist, maybe he knows of her identity.

"Ease yourself, I didn't kill the Silver Lady to take her spot to Graygreen." Miriam jokes. He studies the cloaked figure, quite tall, with broad shoulders, rough-looking hands, fingers crossed with markings of ropes. Then it struck her.

"Just take the cloak off Ian, I won't tell anyone I've seen you." She grabs a bread knife to serve herself jam and bread. She could hear the sailor's shoulders drop when he let out a sigh. "This ice-brained kid always acting a fool..." she mutters.

"You know that they will rip you to shreds once you step foot in Graygreen, right?" The sailor was distressed.

"Ha? as if they could touch me under Ocemnian protection? But seeing how you still attacked the diplomat earlier, I doubt that no casualties would ensue."

"Aye..." the Sailor kept to himself.

"Apologize to my son, not to me. I'm guessing that's not the only reason why you're tailing him though. You still reek of jealousy, boy."

The Sailor just stared out to the window, eyes as dry as the cold winds entering.

"You already had my blessings to espouse him. By the inferno, I wouldn't even mind if you run away with him to wherever the sea will take you. I'd rather have him safe under you than be caught up with my past..."

"But I guess I'll die first before you get to kiss his hand." Miriam sat beside the sailor, putting the bread she had prepared on the plate in front of him. "You'll need that." she instructs.

"Will you really send him out of Dirge after this?" Ian's voice flattened in despondence.

"You know the deal Ian... we both know this would come about sooner or later."

The ebony gates of the Castle peeked through the hills, the screeching of its rusted hinges sawing nostalgia in every vein of the Master Alchemist. She took a deep breath as the horns sounded to proclaim their attendance at the castle, their carriage slowly circling the frozen fountain of the plaza.

"Lady Drina Bluesaile of Dirge." the herald at the gate announced the arrival of guests.

"Prince Laguna Gazhafina of Ocmenia." the diplomat stepped foot outside, his ram horns catching gentle snowfall. The rabble of nobles died down to whispers as soon as the monstrous man came into their view, still barely wearing any sufficient clothes to battle the Sovenian winds, this is his way of asserting dominance- my race is better than you. He strides with his head held high, looking at the balconies and windows that gaze bleak at him like unblinking colossi. His head sticks out from the sea of crowd parting from each further step he takes, from behind him follows a trail of gifts and offerings from Ocmenia, he wouldn't dare arrive empty handed.

"Huh? what?" the Herald blinked twice, his scroll of guests shaking in his grasp, he wiped the oil off his forehead before clearing his throat. "Miriam... Blackmercy!" he announced hesitantly, he had just become a conductor of gasps and confused murmurs.

"What?!" the public rumbled like mad hornets around the plaza. Their blood ran cold and their fists whiten when the mentioned woman stepped out of her carriage. The crisp familiar winds rippled through the little woman, swaying her black curls away from her stern face. Miriam is fraught with danger, her soles are inaudible like they were ambling on thin ice.

"Why is she here!?" a man yelled in disbelief, his unruly zeal was shortly followed by the crowds. All music stopped as they started to jeer at her, begging her to be gone. The party of soft-spoken nobles bent into a horde of indignant protesters in a blink of an eye.

"Get lost savant!" they lined at the balcony, rushing in silver plates from the inside to toss its contents to the Master Alchemist. But the tiny woman just stood there strong as a tree. Her mind was clear and resolute. She is not standing here as a criminal, she is standing here as a mother and wife.

She resumed on ignoring the murderous crowd, instead, she stared at the trees and flowering vines that she had planted by the far columns 24 cycles ago. Now they reached high and crawled all over the walls of the castle.

"Ah, they took great care of them..." Miriam whispered to herself, food of inedible mix thrown at her feet while some were aimed at her hair and stained her clothes deeply.

"Shame!" The crowd continued, the chaos spiralling around that the majority of the guests is now outside to watch the commotion. "Silence! Silence! Respect our guests!" The Silver Lady shouted through the unrest but her authority faded into the ballistic crowd.

Sion watches from inside the carriage, heart bludgeoned from the raw hatred he is beholding. All the wasted food and all the thrown abuses. The sight of his remorseful mother twisted the daggers in his chest.

It has been a full minute now and Miriam just stood there, eyes closed like how her father taught her when she was a kid, and like how she taught Sion when he was a tot. "Once you open them, they might be gone..." she could recall her Father's voice the exact moment before they were segregated in the slave's market. Yet somehow, little by little, the mayhem of her surroundings fell like the lessening rustle of autumn leaves before the trees accepts the bald, silent winter.

The noises faded and faded again and again into the black. Now, all she can hear was the gust of the wind, the world came to be too silent as if she was sunken into the deep hollow of her mind.

When she opened her eyes, she sees why they ceased the abuse. Her son is standing between her and the crowd, his masked hood of net now dirtied on the floor. Though it is night time, his hair and lips are dipped in the colours of a bleeding sunset with forest freshness bouncing from his eyes. Skin and body glistens as if luscious honey is glazed over sculpted marble. The countenance, the physique, the posture and the colours that tint him, all in harmonic music to reintroduce beauty to an ancient world. Oh, what causes the dawn? The unknowing lad.

And his body is facing the whole world as her shield.

"Shame on you, all of you!" he shouted across the silenced plaza, his voice echoing to the stars to be resounded back in every ear. All souls present is stupified by the appearance of this glorious creature, as if they're looking at Adastrielle himself. Their minds fogged and their throat dry with three sheets of wind as they can't decide whether to stare at him, or look away as he glows like the sun.

"Whoever throws another disrespect towards my Mother is a scum of the earth!" the boy dared the crowd. "To who's authority enforced this idea? how would you feel if you're own mother is placed in her shoes? You lots are disgusting!"

"Son, you don't have to do this..." Miriam begged.

"Mum, how many have to die so you could feel loved? You know what? I say none. So let's just get this over with and meet Alzina Fida, whoever the fuck that is." Sion smiled at his mother, causing hearts from the crowd to swell.

"Let"s go." Sion said to the Ocmenians, he ascended the staircase of the castle while holding his mum behind him, he doesn't know where it leads but all he knows is they need to vacate the plaza. The guests gave way to the group in silence, yet their stare speaks of many words.

"Oh, endure this please..." Hildred whispered to her food drenched friend.

They entered the castle doors with ease, their eyes wincing from the lavish accommodation for everything inside screams luxury and excessive indulgences. The tables were still still compressed with dishes even after the fact that the nobles rained them down a moon's worth of food.

"Well, Aren't this the group of all groups?" A woman of bolstered size met them, clad with a decorative armour of bulky metals trimmed with solid ice, her cape matching her golden hair and her eleven cubit spear on hand standing lanky beside her. The helmless woman approached the Ocmenian diplomat, each step emitting clangs from her set of heavy armour "Welcome to Graygreen, I am Geraldine Prudence." she gripped on the Ocmenian's hand as she try to get a feel of the man's strength, he did not disappoint.

"Well met, You can call me Laguna." all eyes inside the hall are set upon them; an Ocmenian Prince, a Sovenian Servant, a Dirgean Novelty, a War Criminal and her God-looking Son all bonded together in a contradicting commotion. It is the sight for sore eyes, only encountered in books of wild fiction.

"Such honour, we've been expecting the envoys of peace yet we weren't informed of the Blackmercys visiting us themselves." Geraldine asserts.

"Milady, my apologies for the confusion. They are the invited guests of the envoy." Drina explained.

"Very well, please, follow me to the throne room. I gathered that our guests here are seeking an audience to the Kazer of Graygreen, yes?" Geraldine gestures towards the wide stairs. This is a group of extreme capacities, it is only just that she'll be the one escorting them.

They reached the wide Throne Room, devoid of lit candles and drunk people. From the farthest side of it is the entrance of the patio with six porticoes forthcoming to it. Miriam knows why the Throne Room is dark, it may seem empty but invisible Frostguards are positioned everyplace. Then they were led to the open patio with the longest table Sion had ever seen, with armed men standing on guard in every meter of the patio, holding torches to light up the night.

"Stay focused and stick to what we discussed, alright? Ought to know that this would be all for nothing if you let everything get inside your head too much." Hildred whispered to Miriam, brushing off the residuals of food from her hair.

"I'll just remain here..." Miriam leans on the cold column by the entrance. Her eyes fixed upon the Kazer seated at the prioritized edge of the table, his fresh bandages visible through his fine clothes of fur, she was the one who had put them. His face and chest are lined with familiar alleys of scars some of which were inflicted by the Alchemist herself some forgotten cycles ago. "Take care, Mum." Sion squeezed her hand before leaving for the banquet.

Miriam searched through the identities seated alongside the Kazer. Her eyes stopped on a slender lass with a face freckled and pale as opals. Her cement-coloured hair healthfuly reaching the floor, adorned with leaves of lush basil and herbal flowers. But seeing her eyes, it gave everything away. She can see the spark in those grey irises, what Miriam's father had always seen from his daughter that now, Miriam is seeing from the maiden.

"Welcome! Welcome! Please, feel free to join our supper." the Kazer of Graygreen invited the group. "Plenty is the pleasures I collected from my land so our guests would be satisfied, I understand that your voyage took a toll so please make yourselves at home." the servants rushed in to serve the newer guests with traditional dishes and refreshments. From honeyed fruits and wine that are preserved cold, to hot broths and sauced meats that offer mystical savoury.

"You're most kind, this land is obviously prosperous if a generous Kazer rules it." Laguna replied, his eyes trapped on the crescent-shaped bread that envelops a jelly of pulpy sovenian berries.

"This is the first time I dine with an Ocnenian instead of clashing blades with one, I must say, we are making history lad." Kazer Vallin raised his goblet to the diplomat.

"Indeed, we're not here to resemble the past. What's important is of the present, and whatever the future holds for the benefit of us both." Laguna raised his glass to the Kazer, drinking it's wine upon the permission of Hildred.

"Ah yes! you're here to talk of trading opportunities as described in your letter."

"That is correct..."

Their conversations obscured from Sion's ears. If he is being honest, he only came here for the food. He had never tasted any dish outside of Dirgean Cuisine which is mostly consisting of Seafood, his tongue is tired of oriental flavours already. Now, Graygreen's cuisine offers all his favourites, from the land's large varieties of game meat to its famous assortment of herbs and fruits, even the trees here are found to be edible.

The people at the table haven't touched their plates yet, he doesn't know why and he's not waiting to know why they haven't. So he grabbed the warm utensils arranged beside his empty silver plate and proceeded to fork out meats and served himself some broths, he near-inhaled the bowl of broth when he had a taste of it.

"My apologies, I see that I have kept one of our guests here waiting too much?" Kazer Vallin is staring amused at the handsome man seated beside the diplomat. He looks at him like how a father is entertained by his toddler's silly behaviour. It is of known tradition across any country that the host of the party should take the first bite of the banquet first before the guests could have theirs.

Sion stopped chewing, dumbfounded that he had grabbed everyone's attention. "Ah, sorry, the food here is too good-looking that my hands turned independent..." He pathetically excused, making the table flare into laughter as they find the boy too absurd to be true.

"Speak for yourself, you're a fine-looking lad! Too damn fine!" The Kazer chuckled, breaking the ice.

"Come on now, don't be shy. I know you've been staring at these grilled Pheasant Breasts since you first sat down." a grey-haired woman seated across him dumped food on his plate like how a mother eggs her son to eat more.

"Don't fill the boy's plate too much Amanita." Her father reminds.

Sion can feel his blood rush from his cheeks up to his ears. The company of nobles here is warmer compared to the plaza earlier. He looked around the table only to see everyone looking back, even the hooded man, all except for one who is a familiar face that he had met earlier back in Dirge. Elliott Whiteraven was his name if he recalls correctly, his missing limb makes him unforgettable. He repeats the name in his mind again and again, it seemed so familiar.

Then he realized who he really is, making him cringe on his seat like soured milk. E.B. Whiteraven, the distinguished mathematician that authored the books that Sion often used for referential equations whenever he concocts risky mixtures.

"Let us feast then mates, we wouldn't want our friend here to feel bad now, look at him frown." the Kazer teases. "May I ask of your name lad?" He inquired the sauce-stained boy.

"Sion." Drina answered instead, she knows that the boy's last name would turn this patio into a battlefield if learned by it's royalties.

"That's a Sovenian name, so you grew up here?" Harinthal Graygreen asked.

"Ah yes. Raised in this snow country since I was a babe."

"Truly? you look foreign yet I can't distinguish from what race." the sovenian prince looked at him amazed.

"Indeed, I travelled every corners of Viridia as a diplomat and yet it's my first time to see a lad with crimson hair and forest-green eyes like him." Laguna added.

"Maybe I'm part Sovenian, part Zhoutounian from my slanted eyes and pale skin?" Sion asked them as if they know.

"Maybe lad, but are you sure you're not Adastrielle? You can make a fortune out of that face-" the Kazer joked, "If I were you I would have wooed the Vestal Queen of Mezenia and have a rich country by myself!"

"Don't worry, just enjoy the food. Your origins are of no importance- what matters is you're dining here with us." Amanita gleamed at the boy. Of course, she knows mostly everything about the boy already to not be intrigued by his origins. From his first knickknack as a babe to the breakfast he had yesterday, she's aware of them all thanks to the hooded man seated beside her, slicing upon his meal anxiously that she wouldn't doubt if he managed to slice the silver plate into two halves later.

"So, where were we? Ah, you were saying that Ocmenia has a trade route from the east that can reach Dirge and Graygreen?"

"Ah yes, a new route by both land and sea through Akan waters..."