The Rethian Region

[Picking up some where we left off]
His actions gave no more hint than he'd drank too much of the spirit and she didn't flinch or move away with his sudden movement that brought him to his feet. She merely blinked wondering if he'd be alright and would have questioned him about it had he not seemed so hard at keeping his face from her sights. Perhaps he was embarrassed by his actions that he didn't wish her to see his face and the red hues the spirits would have caused. But when he spoke again she listened.

“With age comes the knowledge of many things child, and the Gods make themselves known to more persons than you would suspect, but most times do not let it be known who they are. I must beg pardon for a short time, I want to take a stroll before it gets too late and I must retire, but do not worry, I will be fine, and so shall you my dear, remember that fire can provide more than just light.”

She didn't have a chance to speak as once more he made a hasty retreat from the fire's glow and the camp he'd built for them. Finding it would do no good to go after him since he'd stated he'd be alright she sighed heavily and found that it would be best perhaps if she just went on and rested. The fire's light would keep away the night creatures that dare lurk nearby for it hurt their eyes so she shifted herself so that she was tucked comfortably in her bedroll with the extra blanket over it and giving an exhausted yawn curled up on her side and closed her eyes. It was a short time later that Vitalia found herself slipping into a dream state, her breathing soon became slow and steady.
When she woke up the next morning Vitalia found herself alone still, confused as to where the old man vanished to and later found herself packing up the small camp by herself. She strapped his horse to her own and chose to take him with her. Sliding into the saddle of her own horse she kicked him into a trot heading him further towards the idea location of where she'd find the Prince and Aralorn.

The day had already come and gone, Aralorn and Zion had faced off with William killing him swiftly and burying his body as best suited for a blue blooded pirate. Still on foot Aralorn kept her mouth tightly shut unable to figure out things to say, she had hoped to save William, to convince him he was free all he had to do was return to his ship and sail away, but he didn't buy it. With very little sleep as it was she found her footsteps heavier, but stopping wasn't an option. It was a matter of time before the Archmage sends another to attempt to kill the Prince.
But her body was quickly shutting down on her due to the lack of sleep. Glancing over at Zion Aralorn sighed. "We need to rest, I'm afraid if I take another step my feet will simply fall off" she leaned against the tree and slid down to sit upon the ground, the throb in her feet causing her to groan. Patting the earth beside her Aralorn motioned for Zion to rest as well. "We can't fight if we are exhausted, come, sit, rest." She leaned her head back against the tree and closed her eyes feeling her body already forcing her into sleep. Jerking herself awake she looked at him with lazy eyes. "I'm sorry you have to go through this. But I will get you to Reth if it takes my last breath." a small smile she'd held on her face faded slowly as her body gave out and she slipped into a deep sleep.

The chill night air served to release Ezarael from his drunken stupor, but by the time full sensibilities had been restored dawn had broken, and time had begun to grown slim for delicate plans. A return to the Castle was necessary at the time, in hopes that the Archmage would not grow suspicious of any prolonged absence, the being had not made lengthy ventures outside of the castle in his many years of inhabitance, and anything that appears uncharacteristic would foil carefully cultivated plans.

With a last lingering glance in the direction of his niece’s encampment, Ezarael sighed heavily, knowing that he must abandon her for a short time so that he could bring word to the Archmage and the Uriah as well. A little shove here and there would bring no harm as long as due attention was paid, and another little push to encourage the heroic party, or save them if some ill-luck fell upon them.

The shadows deepened around the seated figure, despite the strengthening of the day-light through the forest, and swallowed the ancient figure, the portal disappearing into the mist as the last rays of daylight broke through the canopy, and carried swept the cloth-bundled figure to the Castle. Ezarael hobbled forth through the corridors, doggedly searching for its master. Even despite the labyrinthine quality of its hallways, the Castle could hide no person from this creature, and soon the Archmage’s room loomed ahead, a massive wooden door barring the way.

The hunched-over being glared up at the massive hindrance to his procession, and knowing that the Archmage despised anyone entering without a personal summons, he threw it wide-open, letting a blast of foul air whip voluminous cloak back, nearly ripping it from the wire-frame of Ezarael, but bringing a crooked smile to his lifeless face. Several quick steps brought his form inside the dimly-lit apartment, bringing the form of the Archmage into eyesight.

“Greetings mage, I hope that I haven’t disturbed you with an unexpected visit, but I thought it prudent to bring news. The Prince is gaining followers, and time grows short.”

He crept forward, venturing forth to the desk placed in front of the austere man, and hopped upwards, seating himself on documents, probably pertaining to delicate matters.

The day had already come and gone, Aralorn and Zion had faced off with William killing him swiftly and burying his body as best suited for a blue blooded pirate. Still on foot Aralorn kept her mouth tightly shut unable to figure out things to say, she had hoped to save William, to convince him he was free all he had to do was return to his ship and sail away, but he didn't buy it. With very little sleep as it was she found her footsteps heavier, but stopping wasn't an option. It was a matter of time before the Archmage sends another to attempt to kill the Prince.

But her body was quickly shutting down on her due to the lack of sleep. Glancing over at Zion Aralorn sighed. "We need to rest, I'm afraid if I take another step my feet will simply fall off" she leaned against the tree and slid down to sit upon the ground, the throb in her feet causing her to groan. Patting the earth beside her Aralorn motioned for Zion to rest as well. "We can't fight if we are exhausted, come, sit, rest." She leaned her head back against the tree and closed her eyes feeling her body already forcing her into sleep. Jerking herself awake she looked at him with lazy eyes. "I'm sorry you have to go through this. But I will get you to Reth if it takes my last breath." a small smile she'd held on her face faded slowly as her body gave out and she slipped into a deep sleep.

"There will be no need for last breaths," Said the prince. Zion had indeed sat beside her as was requested. His eyes, they looked out through the woodlands as though he were staring out towards the sea. Looking to the near endless amount of forest ahead of them, like it were a horizon. "Tell me Aralorn, do you think I would wish to be king of the dead? To sit on a throne of bloodshed, violence, and the loss of those that sought me out even after my disappearance? Do you think that? I can't imagine me ever wanting that. Not before and not now. I want a kingdom of peace. I want its citizens happy and safe. In order to achieve that, I must sit upon my throne and be anointed king before the archmage is.."

Zion paused, then sat back against a tree as well, turned his head and eyes directly towards her. His arms resting atop his bent knees and folded legs.

"I know that must've been hard- to kill him that is. It looked difficult for you to end his life. But he made his choice, he chose not to sail away he chose to stand and fight. You gave him a chance, something the archmage never would have. You can feel proud and at peace with that. I think that's why he chose to die- because he had that choice. He chose to die rather than to serve. He knew the archmage could, and would get to him. Even in the middle of the ocean and rather than hunting you down, he seemed to love you enough to give into his weaknesses and ultimately steel your resolve. You fid a very brave thing back there, not a lot of people could do it but you did. But I don't want you to die for me anymore than he did."

Zion shifted his ruby colored orbs skywards, sighing.

"If it were up to me...I'd destroy the magic that the throne seat has upon the masses and let the masses rule themselves. If I knew that there weren't people like the archmage, people that seek power out, power to oppress rather than liberate them-I'd become a common man. I think I could live with myself that way. Bottom line is- you can't die, I need you at my side."

Torchlight flickered over the ancient pages of the dusty tome the Archmage thumbed through, illuminating obscure glyphs written in inks and bloods no mortal should have been dabbling with. The wind blew throughout the cavernous expanse of stone and mortar the castle comprised of, making ghoulish moans that haunted the halls and byways of the place. Eternal gloom creeped in towards them man's reading light, waiting for it to extinguish it's hold on their rightful territory.
The Archmage scrawled a large mark on the paper beside him, giving a wicked smile at it as the book creaked shut of it's own accord, leather bindings worming their way back around the book. With this mark found, he would be one step closer to finishing the counter-curse to the one that haunted this tome, and unlock the hidden lore locked between it's pages. Perhaps what wanted for him there would turnt he tides in this conspiracy against the prince, or it could reveal to him the best way to bake muffinberry pie. Whatever secrets it held, it would be days more getting to it, and even more as the door came whoosing open with a blast of the castle's gloomy air.
He snarled and leapt from his chair, arcane runes whirling about his hands as hexes and spells of pain filled his palms with a dark wailing. Eyeing the creature that shambled in, the marks slowly died away on his hands, as if he weren't too happy to be seeing them off.

“Greetings mage, I hope that I haven’t disturbed you with an unexpected visit, but I thought it prudent to bring news. The Prince is gaining followers, and time grows short.”

The Archmage seethed at the creature, fists clenched and his whole demeanor pushing for it to go away.
"Gathering followers? If you mean villagers flocking to him, then burn their homes down and take their belongings, but if you mean otherwise... then we have a real problem to deal with..." Musing as he crossed the room, the mage took up the book he had been working with, the paper with the mark on it too, and slid them into place on the well hidden bookshelf in the room. If indeed the prince had followers, then more prudent measures would need to be enacted to ensure his inevitable failure in the course of things. It was written in the star that he, the Archmage, would become the sole ruler of the land, no matter what he had to do to get to it.
"Also, never disturb me in my chambers again, unless it's just as pressing that I know." With that, he took his seat again, waiting for the Ezarael to speak.

"Gathering followers? If you mean villagers flocking to him, then burn their homes down and take their belongings, but if you mean otherwise... then we have a real problem to deal with..."

A wrinkled claw edged forth from its engulfing sleeve, drawing the being’s hood back to reveal a molted-gray colored skull that only sported a few tufts of wispy hair as thin as hay, and a twisted smile crept upon his face, revealing the ferocious teeth hidden within an enormous mouth. It had always pleased Ezarael to upset the Archmage in such a manner, and no matter how often he attempted it the man refused to react any differently, this was a flaw that the being had been planning to exploit for a long period of time.

"Also, never disturb me in my chambers again, unless it's just as pressing that I know." With that, he took his seat again, waiting for the Ezarael to speak.

Yet he refrained to speak for several long moments, taking pleasure in stretching the pause to show the man that he was no pet or servant to be ordered about, or given limitations. The crouched form hobbled towards the book placed upon the table beside the Archmage, outlining the markings on the cover with a jagged claw, and cocked his twisted head at the man.

A rasping chuckle emanated from between gnashing teeth as Ezarael edged even closer to the Archmage, trying to goad him in any way possible.

“Farmers should worry you the most Mage, they do happen to feed the kingdom, you know? You should see one of the women that wants to flock to his cause, a mercenary from Jetain I believe, and seems to be capable of causing much trouble.”

The decrepit figure ambled away from the Mage, tsking the whole time, and headed towards a bed placed in the centre of the room, and brusquely seating himself on it, lying back slowly to enjoy the comfort of the goose feathers used to stuff it.

“So, what’s your master plan now?”

"How far did the fire stretch?"
"About three metres past the estate's border, my lady."
Sabe thought about it a moment, flicking a loose strand of hair out of her face.
Since arriving at the Archmage's castle, Sabe had not seen any more of the lord since their first meeting. Although she had pledged her loyalty, there was only so much sitting around that she could take. Besides, she herself had important work to do that did not concern the Archmage.
Taking refuge in the Archmage's garden, she and Leena were starting to make plans about the rebuilding of the Stoneheart Estate. Or rather, Sabe dictated while Leena wrote down the plans and described how the documents appeared for the sake of her blind mistress.
"Well that doesn't seem too far, if I remember correctly that used to be unowned land so noone should be too concerned about our rebuilding on it."
"Unfortunately I discovered that a man called Lord Arkys bought up the land a few years back, as well as purchasing a few achres of your land and never building on it, my lady."
"Hmm," Sabe trailed an elegant fingernail down her cheek as she considered the issue. "When we begin building work I'll set up a meeting with this lord, see if we can come to some sort of arrangement. So mark down a new estate border at the point where the fire stopped."
"Yes my lady."
While listening to the scratching on Leena's pen, she took a moment to take in the scents of the garden.
Things had been dull here. Not only had she not seen the Archmage but she had not been given any orders or tasks to do since she pledged her loyalty. And Sabe believed that if she was not needed, there was nothing to keep her here. Better to be help elsewhere than a hinderance here. And anyway, it wasn't like she didn't have things to do. So if she had not recieved any word from the lord by nightfall, Sabe intended to leave the castle at first light.
Her glass eyes stared blindly around the scene, her sharp ears patiently picking out the sounds she heard, listening for approaching footsteps.

Deep in her own subconscious Aralorn was locked tightly behind the darkened doors, it's chained image sent a shock of fear into her heart and yet still hadn't awakened her. It was as if she'd been shut in a room with no walls only darkness at every turn and a faded light near the center. Suddenly the chilling voice of the Archmage entered through and pierced her to the core of her soul. She turned at every angle fearing she'd see his face but the voice soon drifted into Zion's which had her confused but more relaxed. He was saying that he didn't wish to rule from bloodshed, violence and the loss of his people. She smiled, he had sympathy for the people. The determination in his voice was sincere, she wished she could say something back but it seemed her body rejected that notion, it demanded she rest. Instead she was stuck in her own mind listening to him speak to her. He began speaking of having to kill him, and she nodded in agreement. It was hard for her, deep down she knew he had been fighting the Archmage's magicks, but in the end it won and the man had lost his life to her. Aralorn was a little sad that he continued with how she was brave and showed no weakness in doing what had to be done and how he didn't wish her to die for him. But an idea came to her, what IF they did destroy the chair, but then she wondered would that allow the Archmage to continue with his plans or not. So much to think about she mused. But the fading words of the prince drew her back as he claimed that he didn't wish for her to die at all, that he needed her by his side.
-Silence-
Aralorn dropped to the floor and sighed, closing her eyes. She felt herself being lifted and in seconds her eyes fluttered open. Groggily she groaned and shifted as her limbs came to life again. Sleepily she gazed over at Zion and let her eyes focus on him with intent. "Zion...I think I had an outer body experience or the Archmage is playing tricks on me. I've a feeling his magick is spreading farther than I'd anticipated. We must find horses soon or I'm afraid my feet will be putty." she smirked and slowly stood but had to lean against the tree for balance since her feet were still sore from the previous walk. "Not much sleep, we should find a nice tavern and get some rest, hot bath and food before too long." she motioned for him to rise up with her. "I heard what you said before. Zion, I....will remain by your side as long as I can, but death is inevitable for us all. Please understand that." she tried to reassure him, but who could ever be reassured about death. "Come on, we must go." she turned and began walking in the direction they'd been heading.

The day's ride was carrying Vitalia closer to the border where she hoped to find the prince and Aralorn. If not she'd have to travel to the nearest in and wait to see if they showed up. The horse nickered in protest from the long walk and she realized they'd been traveling nearly half the day without so much as one stop. Vitalia found she had dwelled in her own thoughts for so long that she'd forgotten to let the horse rest and replenish herself. She kept her eyes out until she saw a bridge ahead of her, a smile slid across her face and she steered the horse into the woods nearby, stopping briefly she slid from the saddle and walked the horse to the stream a short distance away. Flopping the reigns over the saddle she let the horse go so she could eat the small patches of fresh grass and get some water.
Vitalia herself made sure no one was near her and stripped away the clothes she'd been wearing and stepped into the cold water. Kneeling down so that at least her lower half was covered by the water, chills ran up her spine as she slowly drew water over her arms and upper torso.
She needed refreshing as well and this was the best she'd get until she found a tavern. Leaning back she dipped her long silvery white hair into the water and let the coolness hit her, how good it felt to cool off. The sun had been an unkind friend and she'd found herself sweaty and feeling icky the entire ride. Parting her hair into two thick strands she draped it over her shoulders and covered her breast in case anyone came near they'd not get a show. She nestled in the water for a short time until she felt she was cooled off enough and then rose free of the water.
Wringing out her hair and after returning to her horse she dug through the saddle bag, finding a fresh pair of clothes. Slipping on the soft blue cotton pants and matching top she washed the dirty ones and let them dry on a tree branch. The horse fed off the grass gaining a belly in the process and finished with a healthy drink of water. Later the horse and Vitalia packed up and readied to continue their trip.
She wondered if she'd see the old man again, but thought perhaps he'd moved on. Climbing into the saddle she kicked the horse into a modest trot so as not to upset her stomach after eating so much. They'd take it slow until the sun began to fall in the sky, nightfall was still a ways off but she had to find better shelter for herself and her horse.

"Zion...I think I had an outer body experience or the Archmage is playing tricks on me. I've a feeling his magick is spreading farther than I'd anticipated. We must find horses soon or I'm afraid my feet will be putty." she smirked and slowly stood but had to lean against the tree for balance since her feet were still sore from the previous walk. "Not much sleep, we should find a nice tavern and get some rest, hot bath and food before too long." she motioned for him to rise up with her. "I heard what you said before. Zion, I....will remain by your side as long as I can, but death is inevitable for us all. Please understand that." she tried to reassure him, but who could ever be reassured about death. "Come on, we must go." she turned and began walking in the direction they'd been heading.

"Aralorn, wait." Zion stood quickly, he hadn't really slept that much and so was on high alert but wasn't prepared for her to just stand up and start to continue on her way. "I know that the cycle of life is factual and it stops for no man no matter how powerful he is. But a life time can seem like an eternity to man that is of a shortage of good trustworthy friends." Zion lifted his hand and pointed at her with a highly stern expression upon his face. His brows furrowed forwards and down and his lips remained straight. "That's an order; if I am to be king you can't allow yourself to die in any fight between now and our victory over the archmage. You got that?" A smile, like a crack in glass began to form on his lips before he threw back his head and placed his hands on his hips while laughing.

Zion gathered the sword he had gotten from one of the rogue assassins he had killed. Strapping it to his hip he walked past Aralorn, and then knelt down exposing his back. "Come, I'll be your steed."

She remained balanced against the tree but nearly fell over when Zion shouted her name and told her to wait. Her eyes immediately assuming danger she reached for her dagger and peered around only to see nothing there. She watched as he rose from the ground and listened when he began speaking. "I know that the cycle of life is factual and it stops for no man no matter how powerful he is. But a life time can seem like an eternity to man that is of a shortage of good trustworthy friends." he then proceeded to lift his hand and point at her which made her eye his finger questionably before focusing on his face. The expression he was giving was stern enough, but she could see in his eyes it was held with humor.
"That's an order; if I am to be king you can't allow yourself to die in any fight between now and our victory over the Archmage. You got that?" Raising a brow she mused at how he suddenly broke that sober face and began laughing. "You really are a riot sometimes." she remarked. Then leaned against the tree once more. "I will do everything within my power to remain alive, that is until we come face to face with the Archmage. No guarantees after that, but I will at least give him a run for his money." she winked as he walked by and proceeded to kneel down and offered up his back to her. "My steed eh." the grin that slid over her lips remained there even as she stumbled over and wrapping her arms about his shoulders pulled herself up onto his back and locked her legs around his waist. "If I get too heavy please put me down, or I'll be inclined to bite you."

"If I get too heavy please put me down, or I'll be inclined to bite you."

"Well then, I'll just have to not let you get too heavy then shall I?" Zion spoke, wrapping his muscular arms around her slender but toned calve muscles securing her legs around him. As he stood and began walking in one fluid motion. He carried her weight with surprising ease, although he he didn't have herculean strength, his muscles moved, shifted and flexed with almost practiced effect. Perhaps he had labored for days, carry heavy sacks of wheat and barely. Whatever it may have been, it left his hands slightly calloused, a raw determination of his use of a sword over a spell.

The rigors of his training--however he may have forgotten-- still made him move in particular ways. Fanciful foot work, powerful blows and a contortionist's ability to bend in ways some found both admirable, and painful. His hands lightly but firmly enough held her feet as they walked for miles, the scenes changing and only when truly prudent to do so--put kept her upon his back and let her rest.

"I will do everything within my power to remain alive, that is until we come face to face with the Archmage. No guarantees after that, but I will at least give him a run for his money."

Her words repeated over in his head, making him all the more determined to get as far as possible. Beads of sweat inched and crawled their way down the sides of his face in the earliest hours of morning. When Life was brought to life by the power of the rising sun upon the horizon. The breadth of the world seemed insurmountable but he was going to do his damnedest to try. The frogs and crickets lullabies had quieted for now, instead the frolicking and chirping of birds singing their serenades filled the misty skies with an air of serendipity.

Aralorn was actually quite grateful he'd not settled on her walking, she knew she was weak and only a good rest at the next tavern would ease it. She held firm to him and watched the scenery pass by. But exhaustion won again and she found herself bobbing in and out of unconsciousness. Every so often when her head fell forward and hit his shoulder she jerked awake and groaned softly. "I see the top of the tavern, not long now and we both can rest Zion" she smiled and lay her chin on his shoulder, her hand loosening around his neck. It was true in the distance the tavern's top was peaking out through the trees.
She felt as if a weight had been lifted, more so because then Zion wouldn't have to carry her but so far. A hot bath, food and drink and a bed called loudly to her. She nestled her head on Zion's shoulder and moaned. "I can't wait to slip into bed and let my body rest properly, it'll be heaven for me." chuckling softly she looked ahead and was met by more of the building appearing from behind the trees. Other rooftops sprouted up which indicated it was a village, so lifting her head Aralorn inhaled sharply letting her nose take in the scents.
"There is a strong mint in the air, this must be the village of Em'dor." a serious expression crossed her face and she shifted on his back a little to get a better look. "They harvest mint here, I luckily don't see any hints of the Archmage's magic here. We should be alright" she relaxed as they drew up to the doors of the tavern. Wiggling some she forced him to release her to stand on her own. Although she was still wobbly she entered the tavern with little to no falls and made her way to the bar. Greeted by the owner Aralorn ordered food, drink and a room to stay. The other patrons paid her and Zion no attention as she took the key to the room and moved to sit in one of the chairs by the bar. It would be easier than finding one a distance away, she was unsure how well her legs would hold her up right now.

"I can't wait to slip into bed and let my body rest properly, it'll be heaven for me."

"Aye, it would be for me as well." Zion chuckled lightly, hinting at a provocative suggestion in his bravado. While undoubtedly a male response, it was masked behind Zion being a succor and his own charm. Something of this place had reminded him a little bit more about himself.

"There is a strong mint in the air, this must be the village of Em'dor."

....

"They harvest mint here, I luckily don't see any hints of the Archmage's magic here. We should be alright"

Zion hadn't even thought of the scent of mint that was strong in the air. Instead, he relied more heavily on what he could hear and see. He would continue carrying her until the reached the tavern doors where Aralorn's responses were met by him loosening his corded arms to allow her to simply--slide to her feet. However, he kept his arms around her momentarily. He held her chest to his back, keeping a rigid grip; the pads of his calloused but feverish hand pressing solidly against the bare of her back along the slight 'dip' in her backside.

A thousand words were unraveling his mind at the seams; the creases of his brain felt like they were being ironed out and there just wasn't enough room for it, but his skull felt like it were simply expanding anyways.His breath was taken from him, and as his eyes pranced about merely appearing only to be looking at a door, his wealth of knowledge began to creep back to him. A solitary tear formed as he felt a bittersweet sanguine emotion rush through him and felt the plunge of uncertainty swallow him in a pit of neither curiosity or heartbreak, but both.

"You go ahead..." You spake softly, his voice uttered with a trembling in its resonance. "I'll catch up, there is something I must find out." Zion the left Aralorn alone at the door steps. He almost seemed to flee through fields of amber grain, towards a tall willow that had outstretched limbs like human arms, ready scoop anyone up in a hug.

Zion's foot steps were light but heavy, unflinching but faltering in a way. The deeply buried disturbances in his mind. His foot steps slowed to a crawl, as he came upon the roots of the great willow. Vine like branches swayed all around him in peace and serenity. But it was not the beauty that was around him his eyes were focused on. His eyes were focused on the names carved out of the bark by a blade. "Z+A", Zion and Azura...forever.

That's when the flood of emotion and torrential downpour of memories fell like it were raining glass inside of him. He had always been loose with his morals before her. Always chasing after women and seducing them fr physical pleasure of his own. But when he met Azura, things were never the same. His eyes fell to the pile of large stones collectively, and deliberately placed over a mound of earth. His heart felt like it were being torn up like paper without the dignity of being burned as well. The emotion pieces of glass that were trespassing through the years he had known this woman, and the time he spent away--willingly or not. Five years had passed him by. It felt like only a day, and there were still gaps in his memory.

Zion closed his eyes slowly before he heard a voice ring out like crack of lightening piercing the breadth of the open sky.

"You've come back for her, have you?" The voice questioned in a remarkably snide way. A man stepping out from behind the tree itself. He was taller than Zion, possibly more heavily built though with the leather ensemble it was hard to contest his true physical fortitude. "Why not, eh? She was just another whore to you!" He declared.

Zion stood watching the man more closely.He had a bet with a dagger in it. But Zion wasn't really worried about it. His attention was drawn to this man's fierce eyes. They held fire in them. Rage and pain encompassed them. Hatred fueled them.

"Five--years!" He proclaimed. "And not a single letter of notice to my sister whom meant so much to you. But I guess, she didn't really, did she? No, why would she. She' just another peasants little sister. Easily fuckable by a prince like you, easily discarded when not in use. Is that how it is you bastard?! Do our lives mean so little to you?" The man had stepped increasingly closer to Zion, and now uttered words into his ear, twisting his head and neck as his words and thoughts so deviously had twisted him.

"I don't remember..."Zion admitted, swallowing, but his mouth was now dry. He could easily see the stranger's eyes, so glistening with tears that could perhaps never stop. But with his admission, it only seemed to burn him in his own ire.

"What..?" He asked, taking hold of Zion. "What did you say?! You don't remember her?! She waited for four years before killing herself because you said you'd be back for her. That she was different! Isn't that what you said?!" The brother of Azura drew his knife and went to stab Zion, who responded without a second thought; flexing the hand with the arm attached that carried the knife, behind his back. Taking control of the knife he placed it at the man's throat.

"I don't remember who I even am. But that was a different time, a different place. Another name another face. Maybe I did love her, and did want to come back for her. But you, her brother, living your life with regrets and hate, shame her more than my forgetting her name. I knew this woman at one time, I feel it in the core of me, that I did. But that was another time and I am not the same man I was then." He shoved the man forwards watching him tumble to the ground and turn over crying and weeping as Zion calmly threw the dagger to his feet watching it stuck up vertical.

"Live your life. Get married. Have kids. Grow old. Be happy with what you do have rather than what you want to have. If you're always reaching for the stars, then you'll never see that you've climbed the highest mountain tops or swam the deepest seas. You'll never be happy. That's what she would have wanted. A brother who was happy. A man that could live his life with no regrets. I'm going to live my life from now on, from what's expected of me and how I see fit. This is MY second chance, now it can be yours too if you wish."

Zion simply left the brother wondering, walking away. He headed back towards the tavern. He wondered his words towards Aralorn held any meaning--good or bad towards her. He was undeniably attracted to her, but this was not quite the moment for intimacies. This was a time of recourse. A time for great change.

Aralorn had not missed the way Zion had kept his arms around her momentarily how he seemed rigid and hesitant to let her go. But the hoarse tone he'd taken in telling her to go ahead of him had her curious. What was it that he had to find out she wondered. But weakness of hunger and rest urged her to enter the tavern. After she'd been given her food Aralorn ate as if she'd been starved for weeks and it wasn't until her stomach was full of stew and ale that she crept upstairs with a little trouble. By the time she'd reached the top step her legs were aching worse then before, but as she reached her room she was met by a hot steaming tub filled with lavender scented water.
A smile fell over her lips as she shut the door and quickly began to rip away her outfit until she was standing before the bathtub naked. Slowly she lifted one left and dipped it into the water, nearly melting on the spot at how good the water felt before she lifted the right and did the same. Slowly she bent at the knees and sank into the tub with a heavy sigh of contentment as the heated water ran over every achy bone and began working and soothing them. Leaning back some she rested her head against the wall and relaxed, the lavender scent pleasant and easing her weary mind.
Closing her eyes Aralorn soaked for a time only dunking her head once to soak her hair then leaned back once more. She was in there for a long time before she decided it was time to get out. Her body felt refreshed and her mind was a little less cluttered as she slipped her outfit into the water and proceeded to scrub it clean. After wringing it out Aralorn laid it across the window to dry and taking up a blanket she wrapped it about herself and tied it tight, she'd have to wear it until her outfit dried. Sitting on the bed Aralorn slid back and covered up with another blanket, it wasn't long before she found herself drifting off to sleep.

Zion found his way back. Back along the long unpaved road, back through the amber fields. Perspiration was heavy at his brow and his cloth shirt was drenched from his expedition while carrying Aralorn. Though he had told himself, many times by this point that he could not actively pursue her. The thought of the vixen's sway; the rock of her hips as she took each step in stride or the way her warm thighs had coiled firmly around his body. Needless for him to say, it kept his thoughts moving even if his feet didn't want to go with his minds commands.

Zion stepped up to the tavern, slipping inside he found the easy way of living; wenches fucking on the tables astride men's laps. Others simply sat and drank the day's worries away through a near endless supply of coin. Still, others gathered around the spit for suckling the meat of the roasting boar. The room was boisterous to Zion. Hardly what he'd consider the proper place for certain...activities.

Stepping up to the bar, the barman stepped over and then told him where the woman that had come in a short time ago had went. He gave Zion the details and Zion headed straight up the steps. The oaken staircase creaked with each step but held firm. He traveled down the gall he came to and went to the third on the right. Gripping the knob, he turned it slowly, and opened the door without a sound.

sauntering in the room he closed the door just as quietly as he had opening it. He then ventured slowly over to the bed with the covers pulled over in a heap. Tilting his head, he peered down. She was asleep, but in her slumber had become quite visible. As much as he enjoyed the sight, it actually causing him to blush for some unknown reason given the knowledge that had been returned to him--pulled her sheets back up over her chest and gently lifted her tucking them under her body so that she could remain covered.

Sighing, there was another bed across the way and a small alcove with only one wall where the tub sat. Seeing the water was still at least lukewarm he took off his own shirt. His body was smooth and fr the most part unremarkable with the exception of his scars. One trailed the length along the back of his arm. It was definitely a major wound at one time. Perhaps where his arm had been nearly severed by a blade. It had one long like with needle sized holes along ether side like lacing a shoe.

His back side was littered further with scars that in some places--spanned around to his front. He was a collection of scars. A life time without the use of magic to aid him, he was fortunate to survive such injuries let along get functionality in his limbs. It wasn't all well. He had lost sensation in certain areas of his chest, back, and shoulders. Places were the nerves had deadened. He then removed pieces of an artificial component once he was sure she could not see. He sat down naked in the tub, his imitated leg in his hands. There was only one other person that ever knew about this grievous injury. She was at peace now. He ran a hand over where the knee joint used to be. A sensation crept up his thigh like his brain still thought there was a knee and a shin and foot and ankle still attached.

The Archmage eyed the creature as it made it's way about the room, even going so far as to touch the book. The creature's silence was beginning to irk him, and it was most visible as his expression clouded with irritation.

“Farmers should worry you the most Mage, they do happen to feed the kingdom, you know? You should see one of the women that wants to flock to his cause, a mercenary from Jetain I believe, and seems to be capable of causing much trouble.”

The Mage chewed over that new bit of news. If a mercenary was on the Prince's side, then that was just the first step towards building an army. He scowled as the creature sat on the bed, now it would smell like his rotted flesh indefinitely!

“So, what’s your master plan now?”

Rising to his feet, the Mage would begin to pace, touching two fingers to his chin as he thought. "A mercenary on his side... That's interesting. Perhaps a start to a rebel force... or maybe a coincidence. So far he's just seemed content to hide from me, I don't think he would dare to oppose me now. No, he had his chance, now I retain control of the kingdom, even if I don't hold the crown yet." He paced further, pausing to lean against the wall for a moment. "We do have a few allies that could be dispatched to deal with the followers, mayhaps it's time for that pretty noblewomen to make her appearance- Miss Stoneheart I believe. We shall see how her oath holds up." He resumed his frantic pacing, the action seemingly helping with his rapid thought process. "I shall have her sent for, and perhaps someone to reinforce her, and in the mean time... I must make it known that anyone who sides with the prince will be dealt with accordingly. We do not harbor traitors and rabble rousers, and any who are caught are to be put to the sword. " Stopping finally, the Archmage turned to look at the creature, a grin spreading across his face.
"Ezarael, tell me, how do you like the outdoors?" His voice was cruel, his intention clear. Ezarael would do some hunting for him, to ensure that the boy would pose no further threat.

She didn't awaken when he adjusted the blanket that she'd wrapped around her body nor when he lifted her slightly and tucked it firmly back into place. Instead she gave a soft little moan of discontentment before rolling away from him. While he removed his own clothes she slept soundly and even as he dipped himself into the water she gave a soft sigh before shifting again this time on her side curled slightly into a ball, her arm draped over the bed she seemed quite content with her rest. Aralorn grew silent again leaving Zion to his thoughts, but as she drifted further into the dream world she found herself propelled through blackness in a matter of seconds she found herself standing in the Archmage's castle, glancing around she was confused how she got there. Worry gripped her as she tried frantically to return to her body and awaken. Nothing would free her, meanwhile her body was limp in the bed nearly lifeless yet not dying. She was trapped. [sorry it was short]

Zion leaned back in the tub, letting the water lick and surround his naked body. His right arm rested against the brim of the tin tub while his left hand felt here his right leg ended jut below the knee joint. No matter how many times he thought about the circumstances, he felt like he were less of a man because of it. Sighing as he let his partial leg sink into the water, he then let his fake extension slip from his hand and clatter to the ground. The depression was coming back, creeping like he were a moth caught in a spiderweb.

He sat up in the tub, and cupped the water between his hands. He pressed his face into hands, allowing his hands to slide back through his hair getting it damp and washing away the sweat and oil. Gripping the sides of the tub firmly, his solid leg leg pushed him into a stand posture. Letting go, he stood letting the water trickle and drip down his lean build; over his undulate abs, coursing their way around the veins in his arms, across the swelling of muscle along his forearms and biceps. Gripping the side of the short wall, he helped himself out of the tub.

The slosh of water would be heard as he carefully stepped out on only one foot. Biting his lip, he reached for the spare wool blanket and tied it only around his waist tightly before he hopped his way slowly to the bed, faux leg. The straps were like a harness or saddle that tightly gripped his thigh. A plate had been grafted, more or less, to the cut-off point then it had what appeared to be a screw-like device where it fitted like a key into the the fake shin, ankle and foot. This is what allowed him to move the entire leg with out hindrance.

Zion fell back on to the bed, the straw mattress was 'cushiony'. He sat up and lifted his badly disfigured leg with the metal extension. He slid the harness over his thigh and buckled it until it almost seemed to cut his circulation off. As odd as it may have sounded, this was comfortable. Too loose and the 'pin' could break, snap in half and he would have to go through excruciating experience all over again.

He slowly lowered the extension of his leg into the fake leg. The first lock in the the ankle sounded as he took the arch of his foot and twisted slight. Now was where it had to be connected at the knee. He stood up slowly, this was going to be very painful as he recalled it usually tugged at the bolts in the bones of his leg. He then shifted all of his weight onto his right leg. The lock sounded, but pain shot through his leg as the bolts grinned against raw nerves. The reaction was immediate, the swelling of his face as it reddened and bolstered itself by straining the muscles of his neck and jaw.

Falling back, he panted heavily as though he hadn't breathed in a while. His hand, both of them, lifted and ran over his face to keep him from swearing to whatever god may have been listening in.

The decrepit figure seated upon the bed dazed off in thought as the insipid Archmage went on about his little schemes and counter schemes, musing about sending a few chosen lickspittles to quash this upcoming return of the Prince. How ignorant could this fool be? He must know that any and all opposition must be met with a display or force; a legion would suffice where a company might fail, and at this conjecture he should consider sending out everything, and make it that much easier for Ezarael to foil and defeat him when the time comes right. A smirk had graced the being’s insidious face during these musings, but his concentration strayed when a snippet of a phrase broke through.

“…how do you like the outdoors?" His voice was cruel, his intention clear.

A sneer soon enveloped the previously look of glee, almost making the hideous being more attractive through the look’s nature, almost belonging to the sallow flesh. How dare this being ask him to do this when all his plans were coming to fruition? It mattered not though, soon he would have what he had been waiting for so many years to attain, and all of his vengeance would be released upon the oblivious world. Standing up silently, the creature hobbled forth towards the Archmage with a quickness that had been belied by his shuffling gait.

“I was hoping to have some rest before I went out again, but if that is what you require then I shall make haste, but I’m grabbing your servant, what’s his name Sarah? I don’t know why any boy would be named such a name, but it matters not for now, I’m taking him along for a little company, never know what we’ll run into, and I don’t plan on fighting so someone has to do it.”

With his intentions obviously declared, the diminutive creature sauntered through the cavernous hallways, not waiting for the Archmage’s response, always seeking to prod the hubristic fool whenever he could, and searching for the man’s servant, more like slave actually. Ezarael continued this for some time, trying all the rooms and corridors he could think to scour, but if chance had it he could walk into the last room, and the slave would be entering the first he had checked due to the immensity of this castle.

“Hopefully a true battle will never flood these walls, it would take so many men to storm it that half the kingdom could be lost if the Archmage should desire to collapse the castle around them. On second thought, that idea sounds so declicious I must make it happen.”

Cackling, the huddled form finally halted at the entrance to the castle library, and knowing how much the slave enjoyed syllogism, entered it after taking a quick moment to regain his composure, opening the massive oaken door with a strained grunt.

“Sarah or Saral, or whatever your name is, are you in here slave?”