014:- A Ray Of Silver Light

Alexander nearly ducked away from the window, but Silvan looked away before he did. He seemed to say some words to the guards nearest to his carriage then he turned and walked into the patch of trees next to the inn.

It was where the horses had been tied in for the night as the stables the inn possessed were not enough to accommodate all of their horses. His eyes narrowed as he watched Silvan disappear into the woods, so had he been right after all? Was Silvan going to steal this moment to escape?

Alexander whipped around, his dark blue eyes alight with an emotion as cruel as it was cold. Without even bothering to grab a coat, he grabbed his sheath which held his sword, dashing out of his room.

This time he would get to prove himself to their Father, and reveal Silvan for the selfish, ungrateful twat he was. Without giving an answer to the worried calls of the guards who had seen the Crown Prince dash out of the inn with his weapon, he went right to the stretch of woods.

Alexander knew where the horses had been tied so he went straight there, expecting to find Silvan stealing a horse to make his escape. But he was disappointed when he did, the horses were peaceful, some were even lying on the ground dozing off while a handful grazed on the luscious grasses that grew all around.

Not only was not a single horse missing, but it didn't even seem like Silvan had come this way. Alexander narrowed his eyes and made his way deeper into the woods, certain that Silvan had chosen to leave on foot instead to make his escape more inconspicuous.

After wandering aimlessly for a bit, a strange sound made him halt. Just up ahead was a clearing, and in the clearing was a small hill. At the top of the hill was the very person he had been tailing but contrary to his suspicions, Silvan hadn't been trying to escape. His brother had come here to pray.

This was a more aggravating outcome for Alexander, he glared at the kneeling figure of his younger brother. Silvan knelt perfectly still like a marble statue, and like the moon itself favored him, a ray of silver light fell upon him, illuminating his fervent figure.

Alexander tasted blood on his teeth, as he stood there in the shadows, he realized why his opinion of his brother would never improve. And that was because even though he claimed otherwise, he knew that Silvan was everything his father said he was. The perfect martyr just had to outdo him in everything. It didn't matter how hard Alexander worked for his father's approval, he barely got a pittance compared to what was showered on Silvan who didn't even have any interest in it.

After fuming for several minutes, Alexander turned around and returned to his room. If he had taken even a few steps closer, he would have heard the dry sobs that wracked Silvan's frail figure. His appetite had only taken a turn for the worse on the journey, and he was barely able to kneel upright.

Silvan couldn't pray, the grief consumed his heart, he would have to leave everything he had ever known. This might be the last time he would step foot on Asten, the grief was all-consuming, making him sway slightly under the light of the moon.

He had no knowledge of how long he had knelt on the hill, stumbling when he rose to his feet in a daze. It was darker now than when he first set out, the soothing light of the moon covered by dark clouds. It felt like even the Patron Saint had turned her back on him.

Silvan's steps were heavy as he made his way back to his carriage, he barely got into his carriage before collapsing to the wooden floor, his vision dimming.

The guards outside the carriage had long slept off so no one was made privy of Prince Silvan's collapse until Graham made his rounds early the next morning. He panicked to find the Prince on the ground, unresponsive.

"Your Highness? Prince Silvan?" Graham called out in a fright, wary of touching the Prince.

He didn't get a response and in a panic, he raised an alarm. "Prince Silvan has collapsed in his carriage!"

King Rolfe had been on his way out of the inn when the alarm was raised, so he was one of the first to arrive at his son's carriage. "Move aside," He ordered to his courtier, his expression grim.

Graham had been too scared to even touch the Prince but Rolfe had no such reservations, reaching out to lift up his son only to frown. "He's running a fever," He noted, supporting Silvan's limp head. "Have the Prince be taken into the inn and summon a physician."

"R-Right away, Your Majesty." Graham bowed, darting off.

In no time, a room had been prepared for the second Prince, a duo of physician's dutifully checking him over.

In a corner of the room, Rolfe sat with his head hunched, his worry lines prominent. Silvan hadn't said a word of complaint ever since he told his son that he would be replacing his sister but how could he not have complaints in his heart.

"Your Majesty," One of the physicians approached, his tone was soft, like he was dealing with a wounded animal. "Prince Silvan is merely exhausted. Our examinations show that he had not had neither proper nutrition nor proper rest which was the reason for his collapse and high fever."

Rolfe turned to Graham at the physician's words, his courtier cowering away. He had made sure to personally have the food delivered to Prince Silvan, what else was he supposed to do? Sit beside him and spoonfeed him? Prince Silvan was too intimidating for that.

"However, we have successfully brought down his fever, after a short rest and sufficient food, he will be well on his way to recovery." The physician reassured his King, bowing reverently.

Rolfe looked at the pale face of his son lying on the bed, truly his sickly flush had cooled but it only made the gaunt shadows in his face all the more obvious.