Chapter 15

Today, my last day.

I thought leaving my home, my kin was difficult enough, but today I embark on the unknown. I've only been read stories, heard tall tales about the domains both out and within the nine kingdoms. I've heard of the horrors of some people and the beauty of others. I've travelled by sea with Malachi many times, but most of my duties did not permit me to leave the ship. But now I will witness my realm, first-hand.

As King Urus instructed; we are to leave all our belongings behind. No issues for me. Although I was quite surprised to receive a parting gift from Duce Merian. Daggers with sleek, tapering blades forged from the finest steel. The hilts are adorned with intricate motifs, showcasing the distinctive art of Armathis. Delicate engravings of mythical creatures and flourishing vines wind their way around the handles. The pommels are capped with intricately carved medallions.

They come with finely crafted leather holsters, designed to be strapped securely to the thigh. The holsters are adorned with similar motifs, the leather embossed with patterns that mirror those on the daggers themselves. I am dressed in a dark-brown, tunic-styled, long-sleeved garment that ends above the knees with black fitted pants and boots to match. A thick floor-length coat shrouds my shoulders. It's buttoned up to my neck, concealing the daggers strapped to my thighs.

A regular guard retrieves me from my chambers. He directs me to the vestibule of the castle—the main entrance where all the other candidates await.

My eyes sink to the stretch of polished floors, buffed to a shine. The golden vision is ornamented with a crimson crest of the High King imprinted in the center of the vestibule—between the mammoth marble staircase and the gilded giants of the front entrance. Once again, I spot Vince as the star of the show. The other males are encircled around him, their faces avid to his zealous speech spoken in a hushed tone. Even Solaris stands attentive, his attention rapt to his words. All the Herems are outfitted in casual wear, stripped of all adornments and noble embellishments. Simply plain.

Purposefully, I saunter to the left, creeping into his field of view. He looks in my direction and I capture his gaze. Solaris smiles at me warmly and ejects himself from the group. But his abrupt movement unfastens attention from Vince, to shift it on Solaris, then unto me.

 Vince rotates his head, and I fall under the thrall of his mesmeric gaze. His face alight with a cosmic smile, his teeth two rows of brilliant white. "Hera Aurora, how nice of you to join us. From your determined absence, one might think that you were in hiding."

A few haughty snorts spurt from the others.

"Herem Vince—"

"Please, only those inferior to me call me by title. To you, I am Vince," he corrects.

I rein in a laugh.

My eyes rake over him from top to bottom and I spare them all a cursory glance. I slay the urge to let out a retort that would slap the smug look off his face. I resort to a different course of action.

I nibble on the corner of my lower lip, feigning a despondent look. A dent to my pride. "Well... if I can be frank." I yank my brows together. "I knew the Trials were going to be trying, but this is far more than what I bargained."

"How could it not," Brennon says dramatically, dragging out his words. "A woman has no place in realms reserved for men, much less a commoner. What sort of precedent does it set when a filthy farmhand stands alongside noblemen? You may drape yourself in the finest gowns and adorn yourself with the most exquisite jewels, but it will not disguise your true nature. No amount of perfume can mask the odor that betrays you."

I lurch forward and a hand captures mine. Solaris. I don't pull away, surprisingly. Instead of clenching my fist, to restrain my rage, I grip his hand.

"The Trials is no place for a woman, hence the title, King," Markiveus says, emphasizing. "Your place is best suited at the side of the next High King," he says, making a mock motion to himself. "An ornamental figure that is nice to look at," he says, chuckling obnoxiously. "Nothing inside but a pretty hollow shell."

Cue the derisive laughter... the whole group booms a united guffaw, an echo of sheer scorn.

"You should know your place, Aurora, the place of every woman. Which is beneath a man," Rimnick says, a malevolent glint flickers in his eyes, hinting at dark nature lurking beneath his gaze. "Who knows, when the crown settles on my head I might keep you as a token."

"I hear the street ones are more fun to wick." Another jeers.

"You would know best," Rimnick retorts with a repulsive grin. "The only way you could have a woman in your bed is if you paid her."

My hearing ebbs and their laughter drowns out. Their mouths agape, stretched to the corners of their eyes. But I cannot hear a thing. I can only feel the warmth, heat sweltering within. Solaris squeezes my hand in reassurance and the jolt yanks me back to the moment.

"Exercise caution in your choice of words." Vince begins, his voice calm like a receding tide before it will soon rush back with force and fury. "Should you dare to let your tongue wag with profanities, you will see it cut."

Rimnick and Vince repay each other in kind; a glare for glare.

A petty chide is not enough to provoke a brawl, but with a monstrous pride that Rimnick oozes. I would not be surprised. But Vince is not someone to toy with, he's from Regnum Ethane; the notorious Regnum of warriors. That same spirit burns in his blood, fearsome skills of his lineage undoubtedly inwrought in him. Everyone knows it, and so does Rimnick.

He yields and tears his gaze away, easing back, careful to not to make any sudden movements.

My eyes shift to Vince. Out of courtesy, I thank him with a terse nod, and he responds with a stiff bow of his head. I release Solaris's hand, allowing his to slowly retract back to his side.

Solaris's torso slants towards me. "Pay him no attention, he is a vulgar bastard with an affinity for chaos. The hells' own hellion."

The percussion of marching boots swells. Duce Merian rounds the flank of the staircase with the military squadron of Avangard soldiers at his rear.

"Come along, Herems and a Hera," Merian announces jubilantly, his words augmented by a resonance. "Your carousine awaits, along with the nine other denominations of people that expect your advent."

Soon we are all shepherded out of the castle. And a long interval of silence ensues as we cut through the middle and lower ward to reach the primary entrance.

"I am no fool," Solaris blurts.

 He and I walk behind Duce Merian who leads the way, behind us are the rest of the candidates. Followed by the rowed squadron of Avangardians that pursue us in formation.

"I know that there can only be one victor, thus, any alliance formed now will surely crumble towards the end. We all want to win for our own reasons. That is why possible allies will soon turn into adversaries."

I glance back at him occasionally.

"That is why I do wish for us to be more than allies, which is I offer you, my friendship. Friends exist to support and safeguard one another, and it is my desire to fulfil that role for you. If you will allow me."

I look back into those empyreal eyes, ever-enchanting, that gleam earnestly. Whether or not his offer is genuine, time will tell who is truly foe and who is truly friend. Yet, when my gaze meets his, I see a figure devoid of anything fearsome. There is a gentle allure in his kind eyes and a warm presence that soothes my restless spirit. Amidst the tempest that rages around me, he stands as an island of solace, a fleeting refuge where I find momentary peace. I have never trusted anyone other than my kin in my life and I won't begin now. I know better than to ever put my trust in a mortal.

We are unaware of the challenges that the Trials will present, yet I shall endeavor to secure any advantage possible. Perhaps the formation of a strategic alliance will serve this purpose. The duration of it depends on his own sincerity, but in the end. These Herems will still have their wealthy Regnums to return to if they fail. Failure is not an option for me. I dread that Solaris will come to rue ever perceiving me as anything less than an enemy.

In lieu of that, I say, "Herem Solaris, whom I considered to be a friend long ago."

He beams another warm smile and nods triumphantly.

We exit through the last ward, passing through the ginormous double doors. I crest the peak of the mountainous staircase. My gaze examines the far-flung distance. A stria of pink wanders on the rosy horizon, impaled by a row of golden teeth. The gilded gate that protects the castle grounds in its wrought embrace.

At the bottom of the staircase, the carousine awaits. Its distinct semi-square shape remains a hallmark, yet its extended length and imposing size set it apart from the average carriage. At least the extra space will lend more comfort. The carousine's wheels are reinforced spokes and rubberized rims that enhance both so each can glide effortlessly over various terrains.

Drawn by a team of powerful and well-groomed horses, adorned with lavish harnesses, complete with embroidered straps.

The horse-drawn carousine is fairly plain on the outside, unadorned wood with no beautifications of any kind. I suppose that is the intention to not attract unwanted attention from bandits and insurgents alike. Other than the horses that draw the vehicle, a group of nine bridled stallions stand ready to and fro the carousine. A total of eighteen, one for each soldier present.

My gaze drifts to the rear of the carousine where two coachmen converse with an Avangard soldier. The Primus. The one with stygian eyes. I can tell it's him even from afar by that glossy black hair. With a face that even the gods envy. His mountain peak cheekbones appear chiseled by a master craftsman, carved down to a granite jaw. They are of such sharp contours, his mere bone structure sculpted and pared to perfection. As if sensing my gaze, his eyes stray, following, drawn, guided by something akin to instinct until he finds me. Under those obsidian orbs, I have never felt such searing scrutiny, discomfort and a strange sense of wonder all at once. How can one feel such a tumult of insoluble emotions with just a simple look? I have seen many beautiful eyes but his...he surpasses them all. Besides its exquisiteness, his inky pools bear something. A truth waiting to be unearthed.

As well all move closer, I hear his voice that is the depth of the ocean with the bass of a crag. He spares me one last sphinxlike look as I move to purposely pass him, leaving me with the emanation of his musky, earthy-scented self. Trying not to make it obvious, I glance over my shoulder, observing him as he re-joins the rest of his burgundy, armor-plated squadron. A coachman opens the single door of the carousine and ushers in the Herems. I follow suit. I sidle Solaris's flank. Next in line, he allows me to go before him. I bend my head forward to step inside, and my boots thud on the wooden floorboards. The simplicity of the outside is a cover for the true extravagance of the interior that befits their nobility.

Sumptuous seats line the inside in a U-shape. The grouped seating is softened by scarlet cushions and throw pillows to provide for better relaxation. The carousine boasts a spacious interior lined with plush, velvet-upholstered seats, a testament to the artistry of its makers. Matching drapes are rose-red wings to the square-shape window holes rimmed with gold-threaded embroidery. Four on each side. The roof of the carousine is reinforced with elegantly wrought ironwork, featuring intricate patterns that showcase the blacksmith's skill.

I walk briskly to the rounded crook at the end. I plop down, nestling myself on the cushioned corner of the broad bench. Soon Solaris seats himself beside me. The rest of the Herems are fairly spaced out from each other. The silence between us all stretches like a living, breathing force. The carousine lurches and rolls onwards, thumping beneath us. The clatter of clapping hooves joins the dissonance.

Where I sit, I cannot see the view outside. It was expected that High King and High Queen, and the Docents were supposed to witness our departure. So, I assume something must have happened to fast-track our timeline so abruptly, including our missed morning breakfast. I can't relieve myself from this festering feeling curled around my ribs. The guilt and shame that my last encounter with His Majesty was an awful one. Since then, he never invited me back to his sacred space for yet another game.