They arrived at the gates of the majestic castle known as "Iredia," a name that held an air of elegance and timelessness. The castle stood atop a hill, its turrets and spires reaching skyward like sentinels of old. The stone walls were a warm golden hue, illuminated by the sunlight that filtered through the clouds. Aurelia Keep was a fortress that balanced strength and beauty, a testament to the legacy of its inhabitants.
Crossing the threshold, they entered a courtyard adorned with vibrant gardens that seemed to burst with life. Flowers of various hues lined the pathways, creating a breathtaking tapestry of colors. Statues and fountains graced the courtyard, their presence adding an air of serenity to the bustling scene. The fragrance of blooming flowers mingled with the gentle breeze, imbuing the air with a sense of tranquility.
Within the castle's grand chambers, opulence was married with functionality. Rich tapestries depicting tales of heroism and triumph adorned the walls, while exquisite chandeliers bathed the halls in a warm, welcoming light. The architecture itself was a nod to history, with arched doorways and intricate carvings that whispered of generations that had passed through.
They approached the heart of the castle—the throne room. It was a chamber of grandeur and authority, where the throne itself stood as a symbol of power. Crafted from polished wood and adorned with intricate engravings, the throne occupied a position of prominence at the far end of the room. The stone walls were decorated with finely wrought banners that depicted the sigil of House Iceforge—the ruling house of Aurelia Keep.
Seated upon the throne was Lady Seraphina, the ruler of Iridia and sister to Elisar. She embodied both strength and grace, her presence commanding respect. Her attire, a blend of regal fabrics and delicate embellishments, reflected her status as a noble leader. Her eyes held a discerning gaze, a testament to her years of rule and her keen understanding of the complexities of leadership.
Elisar entered the throne room, flanked by her entourage and her prisoner, John. The atmosphere shifted as the weight of their arrival settled upon the chamber. Tension filled the air, underscored by the sisters' shared history—a tapestry of camaraderie, rivalry, and loyalty.
As Lady Elisar stepped forward with John in tow, the room seemed to hold its breath. The dynamics between the sisters were a mix of expectation, curiosity, and an unspoken understanding of the gravity of the situation. The silence was punctuated by the echoes of their footsteps, each step a symbolic progression toward the truth that awaited them.
As Lady Elisar approached her sister's throne, the room seemed to hold its breath. The tension was palpable, an unspoken acknowledgment of the circumstances that had brought them to this juncture. The silence was broken only by the soft rustling of fabric and the presence of the young heir, a reminder of the future that hung in the balance.
Lady Seraphina's emotions were palpable as her gaze fell upon John, the Vaultwood in her midst. Disappointment, anger, and a sense of being upset flashed across her features before she quickly regained her composed facade. Her eyebrows knit slightly, and her lips tightened imperceptibly, betraying the depth of her emotions that she struggled to suppress.
Seraphina: "You bring him here without permission, you pollute my home with his presence."
Seraphina to Rob: "Your aunt just did a bad thing, Rob, a very bad thing. You remember her, don't you?"
Seraphina to Elisar: "Isn't he beautiful and strong too? His last words were 'the seed is strong.' He wanted everyone to know what a good strong boy his son would grow up to be. Look at him, the Lord of all the..."
Elisar: "Sera! You warned me about the Vaultwoods, warned me..."
Seraphina, cutting in: "To stay away from them. Not to bring one here."
Rob: "Is that the bad man?"
Seraphina: "It is."
Rob: "He is ugly and thin and weak."
John's discomfort was tangible, a physical and emotional response to the weight of judgment and hostility that surrounded him. His posture shifted slightly, his gaze faltering as he navigated the torrent of emotions directed his way. The room's opulence and grandeur contrasted starkly with the awkwardness and vulnerability he felt in that moment, leaving him acutely aware of his position and the challenges he faced in navigating this intricate web of familial and political dynamics.
Seraphina: "He's John, the Monster of House Vaultwood. He killed your father. He murdered the Hand of the King."
John: "Oh, did I kill him too? I've been a very busy man."
Seraphina: "You will watch your tongue. These men are knights of Iridia. Every one of them loves him. Every one of them would die for me."
John: "If any harm comes to me, my brother Jamie will see that they do."
Seraphina: "Don't be afraid, my son. He's just trying to frighten us. Vaultwoods are all liars. No one will hurt my baby."
Rob: "Mommy, I want to see the bad man fly."
Seraphina: "Perhaps you will, my little love."
Elisar, interrupting: "This man is my prisoner. I will not have him harmed."
Seraphina to her guard Savados: "My sister's guest is weary. Take him down below so he can rest. Introduce him to Maude."
After that, Savados came to escort John to Maude, who would lock him up in the cell. This cell was different; the sky cells are located on the lower levels of Iridia. Unlike in a normal dungeon, the sky cells only have three walls; the fourth side opens into thin air. The cells are small, with the empty side only five feet away from the opposing wall. The floor also slopes slightly, unnerving prisoners and making them fearful of accidentally falling to their death while sleeping.
A prisoner poking out their head can see cells in other directions. From a distance, the sky cells resemble a stone honeycomb. Six hundred feet below is the waycastle Sky.
It is cold in the sky cells with the wind screaming night and day. Many prisoners, driven mad by the cold and howling wind, commit suicide rather than remain imprisoned.
In the desolate confines of the Sky Cell, John's emotions swirled in a maelstrom of depression, loneliness, and deep sadness. The vast expanse of the open sky, though breathtaking, served as a stark reminder of his isolation and captivity. The weight of his circumstances bore heavily upon him, a suffocating blanket of despair.
As if driven by an overwhelming need to break free from this emotional and physical imprisonment, John's anguish transformed into a surge of desperate determination. He refused to be confined, mentally or physically, by the walls that held him captive. The urge to escape, to regain control over his destiny, ignited a spark of defiance within him.
He propelled himself towards the cell door, his fists and legs pounding against the unyielding wood. Each strike reverberated through his body, a cathartic release of pent-up frustration and anger. His voice rang out in a primal cry, a plea for anyone to hear his distress, a call to Mord, the name that held the promise of connection.
"Mord! Mord!" he shouted, his voice raw with emotion, echoing through the corridors beyond.
After what felt like an eternity, the sound of the door unlocking shattered the silence. It swung open to reveal Mord, a figure both familiar and unexpected. John took three steps back.
Morde: (and he hits him with stick) noises and nonsense.
John: How would you like to be rich?
Morde: Poor and still making noise?
John: My family is rich. We have gold, lots of gold. I'm prepared to give you lots of gold.
Mord's gaze bore into John, a mix of curiosity and disbelief in his eyes. The idea of gaining wealth was appealing, a chance to elevate his status and escape the hardships he might face.
As he searched John, he did so with an almost childlike curiosity, lacking the cunning or sophistication to fully assess the validity of the claim, and he didn't find anything.
Morde: No gold.
John: Well, I don't have it here now.
Morde: No gold. Fuck off.
Mord's departure from the cell. As the door swung closed behind him, the room seemed to exhale a sigh of relief, leaving John alone with his thoughts and the weight of his circumstances. The silence that followed was both deafening and contemplative, allowing him a moment to process the events that had transpired and the fragile glimmer of hope that had emerged.
Alone in the Sky Cell once more, John found himself in a state of introspection. The encounter with Mord had highlighted the unpredictable nature of his situation, the complexity of allegiances, and the daunting task of navigating a world of intrigue and uncertainty.
After three days of solitary confinement within the Sky Cell, John's emotional turmoil had deepened. The passage of time only seemed to intensify his sense of depression, loneliness, and sadness. The vast expanse of the open sky beyond the cell's confines served as a constant reminder of his isolation and captivity, a visual metaphor for the barriers that separated him from the world outside.
Driven by a renewed determination to break free from this emotional and physical imprisonment, John's despair transformed into a surge of desperate resolve. He refused to let the suffocating weight of his circumstances define him. The need to escape, to regain control over his destiny, was a burning fire within him.
With a mixture of frustration and determination, John propelled himself towards the cell door once more. His hands and legs pounded against the unyielding wood, a rhythmic symphony of determination and desperation. His voice
echoed through the corridors, a desperate plea that had become his lifeline.
"Mord! Mord!" he shouted, each call punctuated by the pounding of his fists against the door.
His cries echoed in the confines of the cell, a haunting chorus of distress that cut through the silence. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, the minutes feeling like hours as he continued to call out.
Finally, Mord entered.
John: About the gold.
Morde: (hits him) No gold, you have no gold.
John: Listen to me. Listen to me. Sometimes possession is an abstract concept. When they captured me, they took my purse but the gold is still mine.
Morde: Where?
John: Where? I don't know where. (Morde hit him again) Free me.
Morde: You want to be free. Go be free.
John: Have you ever heard the phrase 'rich as a Vaultwood'? Of course you have, you're a smart man. You know who the Vaultwoods are? I am a Vaultwood, John son of Salvador. Of course you have also heard the phrase 'a Vaultwood never fails to settle its debts.' If you deliver a message from me to Lady Seraphina, I will be in your debt. I will owe you gold if you deliver the message and I live, which I very much intend to."
Morde: What message?
John: Tell her, I wish to confess my crimes.