Snippet #2704900

Being on the run was a surreal experience. Never in his life would he have imagined his people would turn on him, with fire in their eyes and venom on their tongues. He replayed that day over in his head numerous times; him up on a barn roof of some old farmer with a hammer and thatch, sweaty and dirty from long hours of work.

He saw them almost immediately as they exited the city walls, a large cacophonous crowd lead by riders -- the king’s guard. At first he thought something was wrong with his father, that perhaps he had fallen ill. He remembered his heart dropping from his chest and the need to brace himself on one of the crossbeams. The prince would have walked out to meet them if it hadn’t been for the thunderous sound of hoofbeats racing from the direction of the barracks.

“My lord, my lord!” Two riders, both members of his personal guard circled the farm and beckoned him down. They were trusted friends, men he fought beside and would lay down his life for.

Judging by their tone of voice and the grey, sickly pallor they both shared, Atreus knew something was wrong.

“You must leave at once my prince!” The older male proclaimed, dismounting from his horse.

“King Nylus is dead, murdered and your brother...Prince Isador...wants you arrested!” The younger one added quickly, to which the older male jabbed in the elbow.

“A little more tact, Edmund!”

“I-I apologize sir, your highness. “ Edmund stammered, looking rather sheepish, but he continued on. “We knew you were out here, but the people they...Isador has whipped them into a frenzy, they are marching towards here now with weapons.” The young man gulped, “They think you killed the king!”

Atreus was speechless and his heart started to race, “Surely this is all some sort of bizarre misunderstanding..”

“No! My prince, Isador has labeled you a traitor. Your necklace was found on the King’s body. You must leave. Lord Sytille hurried us along, we promised him we’d see you somewhere safe.” The older man, Bair, pleaded his face somewhere between heartbreak and urgent.

“I-I don’t understand…” His hand reached for his neck, face as still as stone when he realized his most prized possession was missing.

“Take my horse, my prince. We’ve gathered some things, clothing and whatever foodstuffs were in the barracks to get you started.”

“But--”

“My lord prince, you are unsafe. We will send for you once we have a decent foothold, once we figure out what it is that Isador is plotting.” Bair urged, catching Atreus by the crook of his arm and forcing the reins into his hand. “Go now, and don’t look back. We’ll buy you some time.”

Though leaving that day was the best thing he could have done for his people and himself, Atreus still regretted it. He traveled until the sun went down, making it to a small village that had more dogs than people. He had changed his clothing and removed whatever jewelry he had on to help remain inconspicuous. The news traveled fast, and the prince would learn that his father was pushed from the tower to his death, clutching his mother’s necklace. The village people seemed a bit unbelieving that Nylus’ heir could do such a thing but a few drunkards were convinced he wanted the throne as soon as possible.

“At least Prince Isador has half a mind.” One joked, sloshing his tankard of ale in a pitiful cheers.

“That’s King Isador now, fool.” The other quipped, smacking his friend’s back heartily.

Atreus cringed at their banter, his eyes fixated on the knotted wood grain of the bar. He made up his mind then; He’d ride to Ostia.

The journey to Ostia took three days. Atreus was pleased to find that traveling went without a hitch; hardly anyone recognized him, if at all. He felt relieved to finally step foot in a country where it's people didn't despise him for one reason or another. Ostia in and of itself was relaxed and cheerful. Roughly the size of Arethusa, the city state was bustling with activity. Between the open air markets and lively people, it was a nice change of pace. However, Atreus could not enjoy what little time he had. He headed straight for the fortress where his dear friend held residence, hoping that he could get a swift audience with the man. He was not disappointed.

Ivar Karsh was an older man, having a decade or two on Atreus. They met during the war, finding that the young prince’s attitude towards battle was different and refreshing. Though he was unafraid and bold, he cared for his men even down to the grubby stable hands that tended to the horseshit. Ivar took it upon himself to give the boy a few lessons, even going so far as to gift him a scimitar of magical creation. Even when the war was over, Ivar and Atreus kept in touch. The prince never forgot Ivar’s promise of aid should he ever need it.

Atreus stood there in front of Ivar, and pleaded his case. He explained that his brother for one reason or another, had reason to believe that that he killed his own father. He explained that, during his travels Atreus came to the realization that Isador himself set him up so that he would assume the throne. Through the stories he heard, the rumors that were spread and his own general knowledge in how much Isador changed over the years, Atreus was certain Isador was direction responsible.

“I know my brother is responsible. And although I would like nothing more than to march straight back to Arethusa and confront him, I know that is not wise. I need people to fight with me, so that I can carve a path through Ismir.” Atreus spoke with conviction, his voice unwavering and confident. ”Judging by the rumors, Isador has essentially locked the country down in an attempt to find me. Getting back to the capital won’t be easy, my friend.”

Ivar rubbed at his ginger beard, keen blue eyes fixated on Atreus. He was deeply saddened to know that Nylus was dead, and he could tell that Atreus hadn’t had the time to properly grieve. There were lines etched into his skin that looped under his eyes that told stories of all the emotions that he held in. He needed help, and help he would give him.

“I’d like nothing more than to help you myself.” The burly man started, shifting his weight in his equally massive chair. “However, I have a better plan.” Ivar gestured towards his steward whom merely nodded and exited the room. “I have people -- men and women who serve me loyally. They are the most skilled agents this country has to offer, and they are yours to utilize as you see fit. You will find that they range in their abilities, with each one different than the last.” Ivar chuckled curtly, “Their personalities are rather colorful as well, but I know you will have no issue leading them. With them by your side, you can take back Ismir.” He paused for a moment, and then continued. “I will also outfit the lot you with whatever it is you need, I know you’re good for it. “ He offered Ivar a kind, gently smile. “All I ask for in return is to put your brother in his place. I cannot say that I know him very well, but by the actions he has taken already, I fear that he cannot be trusted.”

”Of course, my friend. I will make sure that no harm come to your people, and I will return them in the same condition that I found them.” Atreus joked lightly, head tilting to the side. ”I will pay you back for your kindness, and I will take Ismir back in my father's name..” With fierce determination, Atreus stepped forward to grip Ivar's shoulder, his free hand reaching for the man's to shake. From behind, he could hear footsteps.

It was time to meet his new companions.