Chapter 7

Wind blew within the Library, a chill to my spine. There is truth to what Hester says. To blindly charge at them, not knowing the full length of their ability, is indeed foolishness. And to fight a dozen of them at once would be utter madness. 

"Do not be difficult, prince, you are no prisoner here." Hester says calmly.

Suddenly, my head dazes, my knees shake. The world twirls. I struggled to get myself upright. Blood leaked through my nose. Realization seeped in. Poison.

Rossen smiled, white and wide. "A life for a life." She sneered. "Werteshire, odorless and colorless, a dose enough to kill a hundred men."

Hester's eyes widened. "You don't murder guests, Rossen!"

"He murdered my captain, commander, a man loyal to House Redriver. And he insulted me, ordered me around like a kitchen wench, and called me a bitch!

Little did the Lady bitch know that I can burn any poison flowing in my vein. I breathe steadily to control the heat in my blood. I'll make the bitch burn so slow and painful she'll regret everything, she'll regret having that skin, those eyes. Saliva dripped from my mouth as I gritted my teeth. My eyes gaze with fiery hate at the Lady. I'll make her scream that will echo throughout eternity. 

Heat emanates from me, the lingering poison in me dissipating, its effectiveness lessening, thinning, fleeing. Then I saw Hester, staring at me, studying me. He knows. 

I took a breath as I comprehended my situation. Humankind, without a doubt, would extensively study us, the breakers of the world. The commander knew any poison would be inefficient. He stared blankly, learning, mayhaps he had heard it before, or read it in some books, to see the actual process. 

"I am only doing my duty, prince. Forgive me." 

Crack! The commander's eyes raged bright blue, intense, piercing, and for the second time this day all went black blur, as a swift sharp hook landed on my face.

**** 

Dream?

Nevuchad's dead face burned, an inhume shrill came in his rotting throat. Everything is aflame now, it was the only way. Only I can end him, this immortal monster, the undying sorcerer, master of the dead. Now, to deal a final blow, the flame that ends this sorcerer's schemes. In the palm of my hands, an iridescent sphere of fire danced magnificently. The Final Flame, a fire that does not burn but incinerates. Obliterates body, soul, and core.

The sorcerer knelt to a knee after his agony filled cry, half a face in ash. To my surprise he also had something on his palm, a black stone, gleaming against the white moonlight.

Nevuchad the Dead laughed a haunting laugh.

***

Jhayson sat reading a book in the corner and two luxors, as Hester called themselves that, guard the chamber door. 

"Before you speak, prince, Commander Hester, deeply apologizes for such action." Jhayson says, closing his book. "You are in the High Manor, home of valuable and important guests of Flintenburrow. He says to place you in a chamber fit to your stature. We do not want to fight you, prince, the world is already messed up."

Morning sunlight touched my face, it stung as I remembered yesternight dealings. Poison. Hester. The Lady Bitch. A familiar situation. I bit my lip as a sudden memory so distant emerged in my thoughts. Once, I cornered a sorcerer, recently corrupted, within the dwelling of the forest. He pleaded to see his family, before his capture. With disinterest, I nodded, and quickly threw him in the dungeon. The following morning I burned him in the stake. Forever was his name lost within the tally of my flames. In a way I understood Hester, duty bound he is. Like I. Truth be told, if I would be in his position, I would have ended me in a heartbeat.

"You are not bound to any chain, not in any form of prison, nor any materials confiscated. And what use is binding a bearer like you?" Jhayson sighed, and began pacing about. Whether it was intentional or not, I glimpse at the book he held before placing it on top of a side table. Fundamentals of Bearerkind: Rise and Fall of an Empire. "As the commander says, you are no prisoner, but a guest, you are free to roam around the town proper, with three luxors to accompany you, including I of course, until bearers from the Ivoryhall would arrive."

Ten centuries have come to pass. The Law of the Realm certainly had changed. Era of the Grand Monarchy. No longer are we the ruler of the known world. I breathe out slowly, digesting the facts and truths of it all. I felt nauseated as the deep understanding reeled me in. If the Grand Monarchy no longer exists, then I am no prince. I'm on equal footing with these… these… animals. No! I erased such thinking. The blood of the first bearer-king flows through my veins, and I refuse to let this new world bend me!

First things first, less I forget. "The Lady poisoned me, soldier. I believe, even though a thousand years have passed, it is common knowledge that I would seek justice." 

"Aye, about that, prince." Jaysohn moved to one of the window curtains. "The commander is rather firm in dispensing the Law." Obviously.

"He is to deliver the sanction this morning. I wonder if it's done already." He peek through the wooden window. "Oh great gods, it's only about to start!"

I leapt out of the bed and stood, witnessing the event. 

"That is the town's square." He says, widening the curtain. The sudden sunlight momentarily blinded me. Then I saw it. A scaffold stood erect with masked men behind. Luxors circling the area. Though the distance was far, I can see and hear things clearly. 

Hester stepped up to the stage to speak in front of the townsfolk, face shadowy and grim. 

"People of Flintburrow! It is of great sorrow to say that Lady Rossen Redriver had gone mad and incapable to rule over you. Yesternight, she poisoned one of our guests from a distant land. As Commander and Overseer of Oswell, I am duty bound to deliver justice, whomever they may be, be it a beggar in the street or high royalty in castles. This will serve as a lesson to all who would violate the Law

In light of this, the next in line is her nephew, but too young to rule. As dictated by the King's Order, I shall be Regent until he comes of age." 

Luxor's drag the blindfolded crying Lady Rossen. All these years, public execution never lost its appeal and grandeur, humans or bearers alike.

"This is bad, you know, prince." Jaysohn whispered. "The guards and militia are all loyal to House Redriver. An uprising might ensue. The commander has been observing the Lady, and indeed she has gone sour since the death of her husband. That's why late guard captain Ulrik hates him."

"The world is in chaos and thou still fight each other?" I say. 

Jaysohn chuckled as if I jest. "Better us than you, prince. Yes?" 

Rossen's head was placed into a wooden block, furiously sobbing. Face smeared black from the blinded eyes to chin. Hands bound. Feet tied. Hair a flurry. Dress stained with mud and dirt. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please! Help, guards! Finyas!" She shrieked. "Anyone!" 

No one came.

Amusingly, Hester revealed not a rapier, but an ax. Not the one the hog yielded but one that is long in its edge, old, and dark. An executioner's ax. "Let this be a lesson." A grim reminder for all to hear. No orb of blue needed. No more fancy speeches. With a swift chop the crying ceased, replaced by bouncing thud on the wooden scaffold floor, crimson pooled beneath. The crowd gasps. I didn't even realize I too was holding my breath.

"Justice served, prince."