Arc 4: The Painted Devil
Chapter 98:
Welcome Back
Snowflakes had begun to fall, chilling the air of the Faelfier Kingdom as a group of soldiers and civilians stood near the gates, some monitoring the entries while others searched for their family, their eyes wet with tears as they stood anxiously, holding articles to welcome those they missed so dearly. The ground was too warm to maintain the piles of snow, and instead the ground became wet and muddy. The onlookers, however, paid no mind and instead continued to wait patiently.
"Ma'am," A young Faelfieran soldier bowed as he stood to the side of the room, his back rigid, "We've just received news that they are approaching the gate."
There was a short woman at the desk, standing near the man. She turned, her fur-lined cape flicking behind her as she turned towards the soldier, who rose with her look. The papers in her hands slipped through her fingers as the words the soldier said rang through her ears. She looked down, trying to hide her smile as she let out a relieved breath of air.
"Thank you. You're excused." She mumbled out as she hastily picked up the papers that fell from her grasp. As the soldier quickly exited the small office, she slammed the paperwork that she recollected in her hands down on her desk before racing to the door. As she passed by a decorative mirror by the door, she paused, tugging at her bangs, then smoothing back her black hair, which was tied into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She smiled at the mirror, then sucked in a deep breath, wiggling her shoulders as she let it out, as if trying to shake away her sudden nerves.
There was nothing she could do about her armor or her hairstyle, they were her uniform, but at least she could look neat and professional. She wanted to look her best, to make a good first impression on Silas and his family.
She straightened her short back, then smiled again as she nodded.
"Wait, I have to call my father!" She shouted to herself, flooding with panic that was fueled by nerves. She hurried to the door, calling to a nearby guard as she opened it, "Go call my father! Tell him he is needed at the front gate! He'll know what that means!" She said as she began walking as quickly as possible down the hall in the opposite direction.
The guard bowed, "Yes, ma'am!"
Adora spent no time watching the guard go, instead, she kept her focus completely forward. She wanted to run, but she had to think of her position. She could not be caught running around like a child in her uniform. So instead she walked as quickly as possible, willing her legs to hurry.
I'm not far from the front gate. I have to hurry!
Adora quickened her pace further, her legs shaking from the brisk pace after anxiously sitting at her desk all morning, waiting for this moment. The sight of the front gate peeking over the buildings like the sun rising over the horizon pushed Adora further. Adora unconsciously twisted her hands together as she continued further, her heart racing.
Is he well? It's been so long since I've last heard from him. Will I recognize him? Or them? Silas always said they looked like him, so probably. But what if I accidentally walk right past them? Adora's walk slowed as she considered other extreme possibilities of failure.
"Adora." A calm voice said as a warm, gentle hand was placed on her shoulder. Adora jumped and turned, ashamed of herself for allowing herself to get caught into her thoughts, ignoring her surroundings.
"Dad!" Adora exclaimed, turning towards her father in surprise. He smiled gently, removing his hand from her shoulder. Unlike his usual muted brown Deel, embellished with a row of decorative silver buttons and a set of long sleeves, Barbaras was wearing his military uniform, which was very similar to his daughter's, with the only distinction being a small, red cross on the left breast of his stiff jacket.
Adora's father caught Adora's glance at his uniform and laughed lightly, also glancing down at his uniform, "Does it look silly? After you spoke with the king about Silas and his family approaching arrival to the capital, he asked me to go greet our guests in uniform. He seems to greatly respect your opinion, though he would never say so aloud."
"Is that so?" Adora hmm-ed to herself, crossing her arms, before she jumped again, grabbing her father's arm, "Dad, we have to hurry! They're supposed to be here any minute!"
"Of course, of course." Adora's father said, patting his daughter's hand as she pulled him towards the front gate. Even though he was older, Adora's father managed to match her quick pace perfectly, a testament to his youthfulness in his aging.
They only slowed when the gate, which was beginning to open, was only hundreds of feet in front of them. Adora let go of her father's arm, and instead grabbed his hand, feeling like a child with her excitement. Still, a sickening worry tickled the back of Adora's throat, one she could not get rid of, no matter how much she coughed or cleared her throat.
The slow opening of the gates only increased her anxiety. And, as people began to pour in through the small crack in the heavy gates, Adora leaned her body to the left and right, trying to see any particular bobbing blonde hair in the crowd. More people passed, and though there were some blonde-haired people, they were not who she was looking for, and Adora could only step back where she was waiting, feeling more and more anxious.
Adora nervousness crescendo-ed as more people began to pour into the bustling town, everyone from single travelers to merchants entered through the gates, traveling with carriages, horses, and even wheeled carriages.
Yet neither Silas nor his family appeared.
Did something happen to them? Adora thought worriedly, her eyes moving over the various people that had already passed, the people that she had already well inspected. Did I miss them already?
Watching the crowd slowly calm to a trickle of travelers, Adora could hardly hear anything as blood rushed to her ears, painfully pounding. Still, she waited as the last of the crowd thinned out. Adora's heart sank as the last of the people entered. It was as if time slowed as the crowd in front of the gate began to thin.
Suddenly, "Alright, come on through!" The guard at the gate shouted down to the outside.
Adora had to stop herself from running forward. She wanted so badly to see who the guard was speaking to, but she did not want to be wrong. The thought terrified her.
Slowly, guided by two guards in front, a battered carriage entered through the front gates, its wheels creaking painfully as it chugged itself forward, led by two neighing horses. The wood, once simple and well constructed, had been battered with various holes and other obvious damage. There were some holes made by arrows, even some dirt stains splashed against the body of the carriage. It was worse for wear.
One daunting step, then another. Adora stepped forward, breaking her father's grip as she began running towards the beaten carriage. Reputation be damned, Adora was going to find out who was in that carriage.
"Colonel!" The guards shouted in surprise as Adora raced to the side of the carriage.
"Stop this carriage immediately!" She shouted, not waiting for her command to be followed as she pulled open the carriage door, her palms tearing open the door with some effort, as if it had been blocked by the occupants. Though some of the rough wood brushed her hands, Adora felt no pain as her heart began to thud, her eyes burning with tears.
A familiar set of green eyes greeted her, as a hand wrapped around her neck as another held a dagger to her neck.
Adora stared into the green eyes, her mouth agape as her hands pressed on either side of the carriage door frame to steady herself. What she saw was something she felt she would never expect.
"You-"
…
A tall figure, dressed with his golden tassels and expensive suit, walked through the cold stone dungeon with a smile on their face, their expression teetering on smug as they passed the knights standing guard in front of the many empty prison cells, the other prisoners having been moved at the prince's whim. As the young man walked towards the end of the dungeon hall, where a heavy wooden door rested. It was made to keep only the most dangerous of prisoners hidden inside.
The young man was greeted by two towering guards, their armor pristine and their swords resting on their hip, ready to be used at a moment's notice.
"Your Majesty," The two guards greeted the young man with a bow, their expressions flat.
"Is he awake?" The young man asked, smiling like an excited child.
The guard to the left of the heavy wooden door answered first, "The elf has not moved since you left, Your Majesty."
Clarence tilted his head to the side wordlessly, motioning for the guards to open the door. The prince's guarding knights approached, standing behind the prince as they prepared to enter the room with him, not allowing the treacherous elf to harm him again. With a loud creak, the door to the prison cell opened, and Clarence stepped inside, his shiny shoes squeaking against the moist flooring of the cool dungeon. As he walked, the smile on his face grew bigger and bigger, until his eyes bent into crescents, and his arms opened at his sides, as if welcoming a dear relative for a hug.
"It seems you've been sleeping far too long, Silas. Have you already forgotten your manners?" Clarence said with a smirk, lowering himself slightly to get a better look at the elf.
Silas was chained tightly to the wall, his hands at the sides of his head, leaving his arms to hang uncomfortably, like a weathered scarecrow. His legs were chained also, but the chains allowed him to only move his legs from his front to his sides, making his legs bend at an uncomfortable angle no matter how he rested them. His face was full of sweat and streaks of dried blood, his hair hanging past his neck in tangles, making Silas appear disheveled.
Silas looked up at Clarence with half-lidded eyes before he looked down, closing them again so as to not look at the foolish child in front of him. He had little hope of escape now. Fighting the Yursinean prince would only lead to a more painful death.
I'm sorry, Mom, Cirdan, Aurelia… I couldn't make it after all. Silas struggled to hold back a sigh as Clarence stared down at Silas, who had already retracted his gaze and continued to stare down listlessly, as if he had already given up entirely.
"Look at me when I speak to you, you disgusting fool!" Clarence spat, stepping forward again as he grabbed the bottom of Silas's thin chin, making the elf's dull, jade green eyes stare into his own. Silas grimaced in pain,
"Your Majesty, the elf is still dangerous. I suggest keeping some distance." A nearby guard suggested, his eyes following Silas with unbridled disgust as he said, "The elf may carry some diseases."
Hearing the knight's words, Clarence sneered, his lips flat as he responded, turning towards the guard, "Hasn't the physician already treated him?"
Alarmed, the knight bowed his head, "He has treated the elf recently, your highness."
Clarence roughly turned Silas's chin one way, then the other, letting his eyes take in the poorly treated injuries and streaks of dirt.
If this continues, the elf will get an infection that could kill him. And I won't let something so silly take your life, Silas. You, and your life, are in my hands now.
"Summon the doctor again. And get this elf some clean clothes." Clarence released Silas's chin, now reaching down and grabbing a fistful of Silas's thin shirt, pulling the elf towards him. Silas groaned in pain as his arms were bent painfully, which caused Clarence to smirk.
With his eyes glued to Silas's, Clarence leaned forward, resting his free hand on the ground next to Silas's hip as he pulled Silas closer. Clarence paused, feeling the warm, damp breath from Silas tickle his chin, before he leaned in even closer. Silas tried to lean away from Clarence as the guards mumbled in alarm, but Clarence ignored them all, focusing solely on Silas's burning green eyes.
Clarence pressed his face against Silas's neck, letting his lips fall mere centimeters from the soft fold of Silas's neck. Silas tried to pull away again, shouting in protest, but it only amused Clarence more.
Watching Silas squirm, Clarence breathed deeply, then pulled his face up to Silas's pale ear, whispering, "You smell like fresh dung." He then pushed Silas away as he laughed heartily, rising to his feet. Clarence held his stomach as he laughed harder, while everyone else sat in insufferable silence, not finding his antics amusing.
"Let go." Silas said in a dry, strangled voice. He barely managed to utter the words properly as he spoke. Seeing the elf so weak, it made Clarence's heart pound in excitement. It was as if the gods had finally returned his fortune, fate soon following.
Clarence tightened his grip, making Silas groan aloud in pain. The smile on Clarence's face only grew as his lips rested next to Silas's ear, as if condemning him to death at that very moment. "All those times you ran away from me, thinking you won… it was only the start, Silas. Soon, we'll be spending much more time together. Just like old times." Silas's chin was tilted at an awkward angle, making his eyes water as he stared sideways at the prince, his teeth grinding in rage. As much as Silas wanted to curse him, the words refused to leave his lips, and he remained silent, humiliated by his own weakness. The more the prince teased him, the more he wanted to fight back, even if it killed him.
It was not until he could muster a few short words to spite the ignorant prince. "You stupid brat." Silas managed to spit out, barely holding back the hiss in his words as he stared at the prince, his gem-like green eyes holding a level of hatred Clarence had never felt before. The elf's grimace, the burning glare of those eyes… even watching as his fingers tightened into his palms, Clarence wanted to see it all. It made a tingle run down his spine, a bubbly feeling in his heart in a way he had never known.
What he would do to maintain this feeling. It was full of greed and temptation, and so very hard to fight. What is wrong with giving in, Silas? Clarence could only say to himself as he laughed, stepping back from the elf as he released his grip, his fingers growing cold. You could always apologize, beg for forgiveness like the weak dog you are. Maybe then I could forgive you.
The candles flickered overhead, and the knight's expressions became dark as the bottom of a scorched pot. As much as Clarence wanted to stay in the dungeon, he knew it was time for him to leave. He had to return to his official duties, to the life that had been built for him. Though Silas's arrival at the palace was a welcome one, Clarence had to maintain his focus on the throne.
"I'll be back soon, Silas." Clarence said. The calloused tips of the prince's finger brushed against the bottom of Silas's chin, as if enjoying the sensation of the soft, clean skin, but the touch was so fleeting, Silas could only believe it was his fingers testing the width of his neck in order to size the noose correctly for his public hanging.
It would not be the first time an elf had been killed in the Yursear Kingdom. Knowing the prince's wild temper, it was only a matter of time.
Stepping near the door, Clarence's gaze was met with a tall knight. "Your Majesty." A knight quickly approached Clarence, bowing deeply before he spoke further, "You have a guest waiting for you outside."
Clarence's good mood quickly turned into annoyance as he looked down at the knight. Clarence closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath before he continued forward, ignoring the knight. The knight wanted to protest, knowing he would be punished if Clarence ignored his guest, but he knew better than to bother the prince when he was in a mood like that.
Without a glance over his shoulder, Clarence stepped out of the elf's prison cell, letting the doors lock resoundingly behind him. He only stopped once, turning towards the guards monitoring the door, "Summon the physician again. Tell him to treat the elf correctly this time, or he won't need to worry about returning home. I need that elf alive for questioning. And if anything happens to that elf while I am gone, you all won't have to worry about returning home either." Clarence smiled sweetly, his teeth glistening from the licking flames of the nearby torches. The guards bowed deeply, giving each other worried glances as they did so.
The young prince quickly exited the dungeon, which had become like a second home to him with all the visits he had done in the past week. The smell of rotting hay and blood no longer even tickled his nose. Instead, the putrid smells had become a comfort to him, helping soothe his heart that pounded in his ears every time he thought of visiting the elf.
That thought alone made Clarence smirk as he thought of the first time he brought the elf into the palace.
…
It had been raining that day, the last rain before the beginning of a violent winter, the maids had gossiped, nervous for the coming months. He had hurried from the back of the palace, having stolen the horse from the stablehand before the knights could stop him. And then, as he pursued the elf, he was able to knock the weakened man from his horse and fight him until the elf collapsed.
That was when Clarence held out his arms as he captured the man, the scent of greenery and herbs filling his nose as Silas's limp head fell on his shoulder. He lifted his hands, searching the elf's back as if there was something, but he only felt the damp fabric of the cloak over his head, and the frail body of the other man. Carefully, he carried the elf to his horse, placing Silas down first before he boarded the horse, leaning Silas against his chest as he held the reins, wrapping his arms around him.
His waist is so thin. Clarence thought, his mind trailing as his white smile radiated an effervescent glow. Holding Silas carefully in place, Clarence continued through the forest at a moderate pace. They had traveled some distance from the palace, and it would take some time at their current pace to return to the palace. The prince did not mind this setback, however he could feel the heat of Silas's forehead resting on his shoulder. It was burning hot.
He's running a fever. Clarence thought as he used one hand to tuck Silas's face into his chest, covering his forehead with the damp cloak the best he could. If he gets any worse, he could die. I won't let that happen, not before we reach the palace. Clarence's blue eyes shone in the cloudy forest, and he increased his speed a bit, but not enough to disturb Silas.
The horse trotted forward at a fast pace, hurrying the two forward through the rough terrain as Clarence continued to lead the horse, a smile unconsciously growing on his pale lips. The chill of the rain remained on his cloak, wetting his formal clothing, but he paid no mind as he continued forward, until he was met with a group of anxious knights halfway back to the palace.
"Your highness!" A knight spoke aloud, seeing Clarence's figure entering through the forest. As the group of four knights inwardly sighed in relief, they soon noticed a figure bundled in the prince's arms, much like a companion. The person looked small, their face covered by a hood, tucked quietly into the prince's chest. As the knights stared at the person in Clarence's arms with some curiosity, their thoughts soon changed to alarm.
"Your highness, who is that person?" The eldest knight asked with a stiff expression, his eyes moving between the prince and the bundled figure.
Hearing that question, Clarence smiled brightly, "You'll know soon enough. Let's hurry back to the palace." The prince's ambiguous answer made the hairs on the back of the knights' neck raise, but they were powerless to stop the willful royal. They had already been made aware of the consequences of disobeying the prince.
As the knights stood tall on their horses, preparing to turn to the castle and return to the worried royal family, a figure rapidly approached the group. The man, covered by a thick black coat and tall hood, began sniffing through his nose with a stern expression, his sniffs audible to those around him. Once he got closer to the prince, he soon stopped, wrinkling his nose as he stared forward at Clarence, then at the bundle in his arms.
"Captain Laurent, only a short delay before your arrival, I see." Clarence said with a smirk, his sarcasm biting. "As you can see, I am safe and sound. We were already returning to the palace."
Captain Laurent ignored the prince's words and directly stared at the person Clarence held, his eyes burning as he barely maintained the dignity of a knight, watching the prince's foolhardy display, "What are you doing with that elf, your highness?"
The group of knights stopped in their tracks, respectfully bowing to the captain as they heard his words, freezing in place.
"This?" The prince nonchalantly pointed to the bundle in his arms, "This is my war trophy. Of course I must take it back to the palace with me." The innocent smile on his face was marred by the vile words leaving his mouth. "I can't have my trophy destroyed before I can show it off, now can I?"
Beau gritted his teeth, his frustration barely held back by his rationality as a long-standing knight. "Your highness, I do not agree with this decision. As captain of the moon squad, I ask that you please allow me to take care of your burden." He bowed his head, still sitting atop of his horse.
"Burden? I believe you've misunderstood me, Captain Laurent." Clarence tilted his head slightly to the side, much like a sweet child, "That is not a suggestion, but an order, Captain Laurent."
The captain grasped his reins, his eyes falling on Silas's figure, smelling the familiar scent of mana flowing in the air. While the trace was weak, the man was still alive. However, there was no telling how long he would continue to do so.
"We are returning to the palace now." Clarence looked over his shoulder at the captain before he said, "Before I lose my patience." There was an air of aggression from Clarence's words, causing the air to fall to a dead chill. Saying 'we', there was no knight present that knew Clarence would bring back his war trophy regardless of the captain's opinion or suggestions.
Beau had always been very cautious with his words and actions, having grown from a common knight into a well-respected captain at such a young age. His comrades knew him for his skill at elf hunting, and his impeccable nose. These skills, however, could easily be thrown to the wayside by one negative word from the prince. The young prince, the unknowing prince, was too young to know the consequences of his poor decisions, but Beau was made only to watch, feeling the ground crumbling piece by piece under the royal family.
Captain Laurent led the group, saying to the knights in a low tone, "You are to never speak of this incident." His words bore a freezing chill that made all of the men ice cold. Holding their reins as if it were their lifelines, they bowed their heads in agreement, swearing to the captain before they hurried back, trailing around the prince like a protective charm. Though, it felt as if the true protective charm was wrapped inside Clarence's arms, never to be seen again by the outside world.
After their quiet arrival to the palace, Clarence did not allow any of the guards to take Silas away from him. Wrapped in the fabric, the elf was first brought to the dungeon by the prince himself before the royal physician was summoned.
"The prince has requested your presence in the dungeon, sir." A servant spoke in a low tone, bowing their head to the aged physician and his assistant. While Earnest did not hear the physician utter a response, he could tell by the older man's poor pallor that something unfortunate would happen, something of ill fortune.
"Bring both satchels of medical tools, Earnest. We will need them." The physician said with a frown, his eyes closed as his silver brows furrowed, making him appear lost in thought.
Led by the servant, the physician walked in front of Earnest, his expression dark as he walked down the empty, echoing halls. They quickly passed through the man palace and began the descent underground, where even the freshness of the air turned musty, and the warmth of the land above became cold and indifferent.
The dungeon was dark, dim, and full of cold air. Wearing his suit, even Earnest felt a chill as he quickly followed behind the physician as the old man walked slowly towards the end of the dungeon. The servant did not step inside the cell, but only stood to the side of the large cell as they bowed and went away without another word.
"Good, you've arrived. Come in." Clarence said with little respect, his words full of impatience.
The royal physician was the first to enter, maintaining a forward gaze as Earnest followed behind him, his eyes unable to look away from the figure on the ground. Earnest's eyes widened as he stared at the weakened elven man, laying on his back, his face flushed with fever. Though the elf's eyes were shut, they were tightly closed. He groaned in pain intermittently, laying on a bundle of hay and fabric that had been painstakingly prepared by a flurry of knights, preparing for the injured prisoner at the prince's unreasonable requests.
"You must treat him." Clarence said, his eyes scanning over the aged physician and his assistant, his words wearing the weight of a royal decree.
The physician waved his hand towards Earnest, who quickly placed the satchel on a nearby wooden table.
"I will do my utmost duty, your highness." The physician bowed, Earnest quickly following behind him as his eyes held onto the elf.
Clarence, noticing Earnest's gaze, stepped forward slightly as he responded, "If the elf dies, you will soon follow him. I cannot torture a corpse." The physician stiffened, but Earnest's heart began to pound out of his chest, threatening to leave his chest cavity.
Without another word, Clarence left the dungeon, followed by his personal knights. A small group of knights stayed stationed with the physicians, carefully adjusting the chains around Silas's limbs to ensure the physicians' treatment would be unimpeded.
Please live. Earnest stared at the elf, wiping a bloody wound on the pale elf's face as he prayed wordlessly. Please don't die. For my sake, and the kingdom's, you must live.
…
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Woo, it is almost not Friday in our timezone, but we made it! ^^; I'm typing this on my new baby laptop, Potatoeee! She's quite the beauty ♥♥ Though, not as beautiful as Clare is creepy ;D Clare, that's not how you flirt with someone (I don't condone this behavior!). You may be asking, "That's flirting!?" It's up to interpretation. Also, we'll be resuming Friday updates from now on, as it's better for view counts!
Also, quick note, Adora's father, Barbaras, is Mongolian-inspired, hence he wears a Deel. Adora then is Mongolian-Chinese (again, inspired), so they tend to go between tang suit/qipao and Deel depending on the occasion. Hunny and I spent a lot of time researching different cultures and styles as we wrote in characters, so if you google their names, you may find out more about their inspired ancestry :D I will dive more into that later, as it's pretty deep into the YMtK lore for sure.
Thanks for reading!! ♥ Y'all are beautiful~♥♥ Still want to see more of what we're up to? Check out my English and (in dire need of editing) Spanish translations (koiinmarch.wordpress.com), as well as my novel teasers (https://www.scribblehub.com/series/338185/cat-masseuses-book-of-teaser-projects/). See you all next Friday ^^♥