In the land of Emeraldia, there exists a power beyond human comprehension. Its competency so powerful, yet so vast. Men have long yearned to find its source, its competency to grant humans their utmost desires. And their desperate attempts to achieve something that they have long wished for. Those desperations shape the feeble minds of humans and their thirst for wanting and needing. And so, many have traveled from distant continents, and with their hopes and determination, they seek the CHASMIC EMERALD.
"Clank, Clank, Clutter, Thud!" A wagon pulled by two horses stops at the outer walls. The back of the wagon seemed stuffed and concealed with a large cloth tapered to a stockpile of items. A few seconds later, the steel frame from the left tower opened.
"Back so soon, huh?" The guard spoke, holding the steel frame.
"It didn't take too long because of the coming snowstorm." The person replied as the snow
poured down. The horses neigh from the cold as their breaths turn into ice.
"Let's look behind your wagon. some monsters might've gone hiding there." The guard closes the steel frame and opens the steel door. He walks towards the back of the wagon and takes a peek.
"Lookin' good so far. No Ice gnomes hidin' round here. Those damn buffoons." The guard says, walking towards the driver's seat.
"There have been a lot of monsters trying to kill us every day. I doubt our kingdom's still safe." The driver says.
"Hah, beats me. The king hardly ever notice us commoners being eaten alive by monsters all the time."
"Hahahaha! You're most certainly right." The driver gets off the wagon and walks behind the cart.
"Yeah, you're right. There ain't no mad Ice gnomes roamin' around me wagon!" He says in a raised, jolly voice. "I better keep going. I'd probably freeze to death carrying all this stuff."
"Wait, before you go, let me ask ye somethin'." The guard replies, his voice tinges with skepticism.
"What are ye gonna use these for?" The merchant's smile drops as he hesitates to answer. For a few seconds, their eyes locked together.
"Just lookin' for scraps. Gotta make a living somehow, Y'know?"
"You're most certainly right!"
"I also brought some herbs as well. Come to think of it, they are pretty rare to find, aren't they?"
"Alright, alright. You may pass." He walks over to the gate and opens it, granting passage to the wagon. The horses rhythmically trot forward, pulling the wagon behind as they enter the outskirts of the inner wall. As the wagon entered the main gate, a large, tall citadel loomed over the terrain, casting its shadow. The driver turns left, heading towards the Outskirts West District.
As the cold winds pass, the driver looks around and sees a small settlement occupied by three houses. A ball flies towards the back wagon and lands in the middle of the items. One of the kids calls out for the driver to stop.
"Mister! Our ball flew right inside your wagon, please make a stop!" One of the kids cried out, flailing his arms around.
"Oh, apologies, child." He gave them an apologetic smile as he halts the wagon's throttle.
Thankfully, they reclaimed their ball and went on their merry way. The sun's ray of light bounces off the iced pond; livestock roam around the terrain as more people walk around the area doing errands. One young man calls out to the driver, waving and smiling as he waves back in reply. In the northwest, the driver spots a large lumber mill up on the hill and a woman waving towards him. His eyes lit up the moment he saw her, and he eagerly waved.
"Father!" The girl calls out, "You're home! How was your exploration?" Her hair elegantly sways in the wind as she runs towards him. "My Sweet Rosa! My, how are you?" He replied as he approached the windmill next to the lumber; he settled next to its stables. "How is your mother?" He leaps off the driver's seat and walks towards the windmill. Next to it is a Pigpen, where five pigs reside. Rosa takes a bucket full of water and walks towards the Pigpen, dumping all the water in the trough. "She's still sick, Father. I gave her the herbs I bought from the apothecary, but her sickness worsened!"
"Oh, child." He walks towards her with his arms open, embracing her. "Do not falter. I have what she needs!" He eagerly takes a small bag from his left pocket and shows it to her.
"What is that?" Her eyes lit up with curiosity. "A rare herb I found in the woods, a special one!" His eyes widen in ecstasy, along with his smile. "This could surely help your mother, Rosa. She could finally be able to walk again." Rosa, unable to believe what her father is saying, walks away towards the lumber mill. Her face filled with a distasteful look.
"R-Rosa, dear." He called out. "Please, let me explain first!" He hurriedly runs towards her, grabbing her hand gently. Their hands intertwined, Rosa flicks her arm, getting rid of his. "Please, my sweet child! Let me explain!" As they reach the lumber mill, Rosa turns angrily, facing her father.
"You don't know how many times I've heard that shit coming out of your mouth, Father!"
"Rosa, that is NOT how you talk to your father!"
"I've heard that from you countless times! 'Rosa, this herb will surely cure your mother.' 'Rosa, this medicine will work and help your mother be able to walk again!' 'Rosa' 'Rosa' Rosa!" Her face was enveloped with tears as she collapsed on her knees. Her sobbing continued to ripple around the settlements, and even the pigs stopped eating. Her father's eyes were fickle in a depressing emotion. As their gazes locked in that connection, he discerned a flicker of emotion. That emotion he knows so well. Her eyes filled with sorrow, and her heart filled with false hope. He couldn't help but cry.
"Oh, father," She said, wiping her tears. "I am sorry to be angry. It's because-"
"Oh, my child!" His tears roll down his cheeks as he runs to embrace her. "I was wrong to give you false hope. Believe me, my child! I, too, have been deceived by myself."
"What do you mean, Father?" Rosa asked.
"I, too, had believed about these rare herbs that could cure your mother. But it never did."
"I am sorry, father." She said in a weak voice. He smiled in reply while caressing her back. In a warm embrace, he places her hands gently on the back of her head and cradles it towards his shoulder, comfortably resting it. "My dear Rosanthemum. Cry no more. Father is here to embrace you."
"Yes, Father." She replied, smiling underneath his shoulder.
"Oh, it's almost evening. We have to go inside! Prepare some supper for me. I have to bring these to the King." He extends his hands, removing her head gently from his shoulder, and gently releases her from their embrace.
"Alright, Father." She smiles and walks behind the lumber mill. Seeing a small wooden door, she opens it and goes inside.
The sound of the wind carries a child's tune, playing a flute. With the wagon approaching the west gates, the father gazes upon the beautiful rays of the sun. As the morning sun descends from the skies, the sun's radiant light hits his skin.
Feeling the warm heat coming from it, he smiles as he moves forward, entering the west gates. As evening came, Rosa was out of their home carrying firewood to use for later. She hauled around five big logs on her right arm and a lumber-axe on her left hand. She walked towards a stump, placed the logs on the left side, grabbed the closest to her, and positioned it in the middle. She holds the axe with both hands, elevating her arms, delivering a mighty blow
. After she chopped the logs into splits, she calmly walked towards her door, placed the axe beside the doorframe, and went inside.
"Mother, I'm back home. I finished gathering the firewood." Her dirty white dress sways elegantly as the wind's howling whispers enter their abode, filling the atmosphere with a cold breeze.
"Oh, Rosa. You're back," The ragged voice of a sickly woman echoes from a disclosed room with an opened door. "Have you seen your— father—"
Her wrenching cough drowns out her question as she continuously coughs violently. She slowly gets up from her bed, her feet on the ground. She slowly stands up, though her feet tremble, unable to withstand her weight. Rosanthemum hurriedly placed the firewood in the fire and ran towards her mother. She sets her left hand on her back with her right hand holding hers.
"Mother, haven't I told you to wait for me if you want to get out of bed?" She frowned.
Her eyebrows furrowed as her mouth tensed, her mouth slightly downturned.
"By the gods, mother. What would happen to you if you fell!" She says, scolding her mother. As she looked at her with a frowning expression, her mother couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "Oh, my sweet Rosa. You have definitely grown up." Her eyes lit up with a warm-loving smile. "I remembered you were this small..!" She extended her hand, palm-side down, Indicating how small she was before.
"That was five years ago!" Rosa replied with a laugh.
"Well, I can still remember it clearly—" abruptly hindered to a stop as she violently coughed. Rosa immediately patted her back gently, her cough ceasing.
As the night finally began, their house filled with the savory aroma of a freshly seared steak and a pot of delicious soup. Rosa grabs a bowl from the stack and fills it with delicious soup.
"Here you go, Mother. Eat up." She hands her the bowl, which her mother happily takes, eating the soup.
"You've grown so much, my child! You're an amazing cook now!" She happily exclaimed while eating the bowl of soup.
"Mother! Eat slowly. You'll choke!" Her cute furrowed eyebrows twitch with annoyance with her mouth, pouting.
"I'm sorry, Rosa. Your mother is such an emotional wreck!"
"Haaa… Alright, alright. Just eat up!"
"Oh, right. I forgot to ask, where was your father heading off to?"
"He said he was off to the King's Palace. He was carrying a lot of HEAAAVYY stuff, you know?" She flails her hands, tracing how large the wagon he was carrying.
"I think he'll be home this early morning," Rosa continues to eat her steak, gulping down her soup.
"I see." Throughout the entire supper, everyone was silent. No one uttered a single word. After they finished, Rosa took another wooden bowl from the stack and served it with food. She takes a little wooden plate and covers the bowl to serve for later. Walking outside, Rosa grabs a small bucket and fills it with water. She goes inside and dumps it all in the fire, putting it out for the night.
"Mother, let me assist you back to your quarters." Rosa places her right arm on her mother's back with her left hand holding her mother's left hand. Together, they slowly walk towards her mother's room.
After Rosa sets her mother's bed, she lays her down and settles a small candle wick on a little plate on her desk shelf. She kneels with both knees, holding her mother's hand. They briefly look at each other's eyes, ending with a warm smile. Rosa stands up and kisses her mother's forehead goodnight, gently closing the door behind her.
The howling whispers of the wind maintain its breeze. With the moon's radiating glow of light, everything fell silent. Rosa exits her home and sits on a bench gazing at the skies.
In place of solitude, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the wooden slats. The leaves rustled as the gentle breeze continued to pass by. The rhythmic sounds of the leaves created a sense of solace, a space where she could be alone with her thoughts.
"Whoooooooosssshhhhhhh…." A gust of violent cold winds rushed toward their home, knocking the windows open as the wind entered their abode. Rosa was startled, disrupting her peace. She gets up as she hears an emanating sound of thunderous footsteps running downhill. She quickly ran to check and was surprised to see a large herd of cattle running west towards where her father headed off.
"Where are they headed off to..?" Rosa mumbles as she gazes at the herd, slowly fading from her perception.
"CLANK!" A large steel gate opens, granting passage to a stock-piled wagon. As it slowly enters the district—a well-lit city—where a few people are still wandering, guards are roaming around, and drunk men are walloping. As the wagon slowly approaches the building, a man in armor stops him.
"Halt!" The man exclaimed. "Where do you think you're going?" His eyes peer out from the dark visor of his helmet as he menacingly stares at the driver. It seems that the man is one of the nightguards on duty.
"Pardon my intrusion, Dear Sir Knight. I am off to exhibit an item to our King." The driver replied. His voice trembles nervously as his forehead profusely sweats. "Am I not allowed inside the walls?" He asked.
"Goodman, it's late. I suggest you find a place to settle in tonight. Maybe right down there at Agatha's Inn— or right around Gaul's Tavern. You could always settle your wagon right around Haugr's Stables. It's all affordable, really."
The driver widened his eyes in surprise, his body untensing from the pressure of the situation.
"A-Alright," He replied, his voice still trembling nervously. "I'll be off then…" He looked away from the guard and slowly lumbered away. However, another one quickly stepped in and brought him to a standstill.
"Halt. He did not say to leave, did he?" The guard scornfully said.
"But he did suggest places for me to settle in…"
"Yes, he did. But that's after we put you in jail!" The guards' scornful laugh radiated in the air, filling the driver's ears.
"What..?" His eyes widen in fear as he grits his teeth.
His heart beats faster as his hair bristles in fear. He tightens his grip on the rope as a shiver runs down his spine. Beads of cold sweat rolled down his forehead as his breath quickened.
"Look, if you want to leave here unscathed, just go back to where you came from, Old man." Says the guard on the front of the wagon, as he extends his hand, waving it palm-forward as he tells him to shoo off.
"But why?" The driver asked. "They opened the door for me." He tilts his head in confusion. He keeps his composure but is still wary of the situation.
"Look, we already told you to fuck off, and you're still talking back?!" The guard from the front angrily shouted.
"Bezo, calm down." The guard in the back calmly said. "Old man, Just get off the wagon and let us inspect it."
"Alright, I'll get off." He slowly unmounts his wagon and walks to the side. The guard in front quickly boards it and settles the wagon beside a farm.
"Come with me." The first guard says, guiding him towards a steel door engraved in the walls. Next to it is a wooden shelf with a single candle. He scours through his pocket, takes out a key, and inserts it on the padlock, unlocking the door.
He grabs a candle, lights it, and says, "Follow me." He opens the door. An old wooden spiral staircase greets them. The guard slowly descends the creaking floors of the stairs, and so does the Old man. The entire descent down the spiraling staircase occurred in silence. With every step, their footsteps grew louder and louder until the guard ceased the walk and searched through his pockets to grab the keys. It seems that they have finally reached another door.
"Where are we, sir?" The old man asked.
"You'll stay here for the meantime. Do not worry. You will be safe here." The guard says in a reassuring tone as he opens the steel door. The room unfolds with a lone wooden table positioned in the middle. Its surface texture feels rough— capable of grazing a person's skin. Positioned chaotically, two wooden stools on each side flank the table. The guard shines his light, revealing an unrefurbished wooden wall with a few gradually declining series of wooden planks that are rotting and deteriorating.
"Sit right over here." The guard grabs the stool's head with one hand and positions it in the middle. He strides over to the other flank— grabs the remaining stool, and quickly sits on it in a flashy way. The old man lets out a disturbed expression before grabbing the nearby stool and sitting on it as he spreads his hands on the table.
The guard settles the candle in a little plate, casting a warm glow across the dimly lit room, Sliding it to the middle.
"So, before we start, state your name." The guard says as he leans in closer, trying to assert dominance.
"My name is Ruthwen. I own a lumber mill on the outer walls. I have a wife and a daughter."
"Hm. Alright, what brings you here, Ruthwen?"
"W-Well, I—" His fingers fidgeted from nervousness, unable to articulate words. His eyes dart around the room, unable to look at the guard in the eyes. He takes a deep breath and says,
"I was out looking for herbs outside the walls. I was being cautious. Of course, I did not trek too far. I found what I was looking for, but there was something else. An old rusty sword engraved deep into the ground. I figured it was a sword of a fallen warrior, so I tried going back to my wagon."
"And then?" The guard leaned forward, intrigued.
"There was something, child. There was a force that hindered my capability to return to my wagon. A mysterious force!" He exclaimed, eyes widening with astonishment, joyfully gasping, reminiscing the lingering sensation in his memory.
"What are you trying to say?" His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, yet he was intrigued by the story.
"This mysterious force. It called out to me— yes. It felt like a thousand hands gripped tightly to my soul, beckoning me to seize the sword. And seized it, I did. It called out to me yet another, but the memory eluded me.
"So you're saying that there's something in the middle of the crossguard? What is it?" The guard leaned backward as he crossed his legs, placing his right hand on his chin— his left arm under it.
"The crossguard of that sword, sire, a mark's etched onto it—a symbol, like a flame in its carving. Right there, in the heart of that flame, you see, there's another symbol — a heart— I thought, 'Maybe if I show this to the king, it'd bring a smile to his face.'"
"So you brought it with you?"
"Yes, I did bring it with me."
"And where is it now?"
"It is in my wagon."
"A flame… And a heart…"
"Yes, it looked unusual, so I came to show it to the King."
"Alright, Goodman, You are free to go. But the palace does not accept visitors at this time. The king is still asleep. As I said, you can stay at Gaul's Tavern."
"R-Really? I am thankful, Sire." He stands up and bows to the guard.
"I'll be informing the royal guards about this information." He replied, grabbing the candle with him as he escorted Ruthwen out of the room, ascending the spiraling staircase.
Ruthwen and the guard bid farewell, leaving the place. The guard returns to his post as Ruthwen leaves to find his wagon. As Ruthwen walks towards the farm where the guard posted his wagon, he sees the guard sitting on it, waiting for him. He extends his hands up in the air, waving— sauntering, as he calls out to the guard, trying to get his attention. The guard hears this and glances to his left, seeing the old man slowly walking with his hands waving. He extends his hands and softly smiles as he descends the wagon, walking up to him.
"Hey there gramps! I thought Ferrun put you in custody?" He jokingly laughed. "Anyway, your wagon is perfectly fine. I even fed the horses some hay. Seems Ferrun set ya free aye?"
"Well, thank you, young lad. I appreciate your kind actions. It seems your fellow guard— er, what was his name again? Er… I think you mentioned it— Ah! Right. Was it 'Ferrun'?"
"Yep," The guard replied, taking off his helmet and revealing his face— His noticeable pencil mustache and thick, dark eyebrows. He widens his dark hazel eyes as he smiles. "Well, I think it is time to return to my post. Be seein' you here, gramps." He says, chuckling, as he passes by, his hands extended— waving.
"Alright, dear." He responded, walking towards the wagon— mounting it, he grabbed the rope, preparing to set off.
He gives a spirited 'Hiiyaah!' prompting the horses to move. As Ruthwen moves forward, he remembers what the Guard, Ferrun, suggested. Ruthwen takes a right turn, heading west. It seems that Haugr's Stables is located in that direction. As he lumbers his wagon through the dark road of the streets, armed with a lamp in his left hand, he peers through the warm, dimly-lit houses that surround him. As he lumbers away, turning right and heading west again, he finally reaches Haugr's Stables, his destination. Ruthwen intensely peers through the darkness— unable to grasp the vague shape of the house. He looks to the right and gazes through the elusive fog of the night. Ruthwen extends his hand and carefully shines the lamp in the area.
It was the stables. On its left is the owner's house, with a door in the middle.
He looks up, seeing a two-story building with two windows— one on the left and the other on the right. The property appears to have fencing encircling the entire grassland area. He slowly gets off his wagon and walks towards the door— extending his hands as he reaches for the ring knocker.
"KNOCK KNOCK." Ruthwen patiently waits for minutes. He peers through the window next to the door but can only see darkness. He gazes through his surroundings— looks through his horses— to his wagon— and back to the door. He extends his hands and reaches for the ring knocker again, "KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK" This time, he knocks three times. He patiently waited as he listened for footsteps coming towards the door, but there were none. He peers through the window, yet again, he sees only darkness. He gazes through his surroundings— looks through his horses— to his wagon— and back to the door. He takes a deep sigh, extends his hands, and reaches for the ring knocker again. His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead wrinkling, and with a stern face, he knocks. "KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK" He patiently waited as he listened to the sounds of footsteps rushing down the flight of stairs. A man angrily stomped down the stairs as he walked towards the door, opening it. With a surge of anger, he flung the door open as the hinges creaked in agony. Ruthwen is greeted by a middle-aged man— with bloodshot eyes, messy black hair, and a ruffled beard. His wrinkled forehead, furrowed eyebrows, and his left eye half-closed. The man is pissed.
"What the FUCK do you want, old man?!" He grits his teeth.
"Well, dear, I am terribly sorry. It is just that I am in quite a hurry. I need to drop my Wagon in your humble stables— I promise I will pay you handsomely for this trouble!" Ruthwen extends
his clasped hands as he bows down, making himself a little small. The man looks down at him with the same expression as before and says,
The man scowls, unimpressed. "Even a THOUSAND brass coins won't change my mind. You disturbed my fucking sleep!"
"I am terribly sorry, young lad! It is just that I am in quite a hurry. I have to find that— er- what was that Tavern's name— Ah! Gaul's Tavern, yes."
"Look, ya gotta leave before I beat you up, geezer." He says, glaring at Ruthwen.
"I-I'll pay you handsomely! Twenty-five silver coins, yes?" He looks at the man, squinting his eyes, followed by a nervous smile.
"Ugh, alright. I'll unlock the gates. Just place your damn wagon inside and scurry off!" He replied. Walking back inside, he opens the drawing next to the door and scours through it. After searching, he grabs the keys and heads outside towards the stable doors.
"You better give me those 25 silver coins, old man." He says with a sigh as he unlocks the stable doors. Moments later, he unlocks it, opening the doors for the Wagon to enter.
"Alright, Alright. Let that damn thing inside!" He exclaimed, his forehead still wrinkled, and his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. He extends his right hand, waving it.
"Come on, come on! I don't have all night!" He exclaimed angrily.
"Apologies, I must go fetch my wagon." Ruthwen bows down. He hurriedly retreats to his wagon and mounts it, entering the stables.
"Alright. Where's the damn money?"
"Ah! Apologies, here it is." Ruthwen stretches his back, spins to the left, facing the wagon's back, and extends his left hand, grabbing a small leather bag.
"Here you go, kind sir." He opens the bag and hands him twenty-five silver coins.
"Alright, now off you go." The man says, waving his hand palm-faced down, suggesting to leave.
"Sir, there would be no thieves lyin' around tryna steal my stuff around here?" Ruthwen asked.
"We have thieves lyin' around here, sometimes. Best if you can just sleep in your wagon," He takes a deep breath and continues, "But it's gonna cost you EXTRA!"
"H-How much?" Ruthwen asked, feeling his pockets for some extra.
"I'm kidding gramps!" He said. "It ain't costin' you extra, but it sure will if you snoozed too loud!" He laughed. Walking out of the stables and towards his house's door, he ceases his steps, takes a quick look at Ruthwen, who feeds his horses, and goes inside.
As Ruthwen climbs to his wagon, exhausted, he enters the storage room and grabs a nicely warm brown blanket alongside a pile of scraps. He grabs his sling bag, the one settling outside the storage room, and places it on the cold wooden floor of the wagon. As Ruthwen is about to settle in for the night, he sits upright and flicks his blanket, covering his feet, as he comfortably lays down.
As he closes his eyes, the night cold wind passes by, rustling through the leaves, as the dirt flies along with the air— passing through Ruthwen's wagon. The moonlight's radiating glow shines elegantly as the waters from the trough reflect its warm light. The breeze of the air travels through the silence of the streets, passing through the darkness of the road. As it traveled further and further, the houses seemed to brighten up. Further from the darkness. As the street begins to unfold a bright light, as the moon's elegant light vanishes from the night skies, so do the distant— twinkling stars that engulf the galaxies. The sun's warmth returned to its rightful place. As the sun rises, so does the rooster's crow.
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" The rooster's crow scatters throughout the district. The cold breeze of the air passes through the wagon again. Engulfing Ruthwen's frail old skin— as he shivers from the cold. The wind passes by once more, rustling through the winter leaves. The horses' muffled neighs slowly wake Ruthwen— as he slowly opens his eyes, the natural light of day flickers as he wakes up, feeling refreshed. He slowly gets up and stretches his back. He knee-crawls towards the entrance of the wagon and sticks his head outside. He gazes out and sees the bright blue skies, clouds as white as wool scattering away in each direction— being swept away by the mighty winds. Ruthwen gazes at his surroundings as the cold atmosphere hits his face, trembling. He looked around again— his gaze seemed blurry. The vicinity's natural phenomenon: The cold atmosphere had caused a sprawling dark fog in the mountains of Aldia, where the kingdom resides. There once was a legend— a myth that surrounds the entire kingdom. It is history, learning why the people have never succumbed to the wrathful natural phenomenon of the Aldian Mountains.
"Oh dear, it is morning already?" Ruthwen thought to himself. He removes his head from the clothed wagon's entrance and starts organizing the area. "I should probably head towards the palace after breakfast." He tidied his stuff, organizing his supplies and wares, looking under every cloth he had carefully placed on his supplies to see if there were any stolen goods on the night. As he finished looking at his things, not finding anything suspicious, he fed his horses hay, knocked on the Stable owner's door to say his goodbyes, and headed right over to his next destination— Gaul's Tavern.
Ruthwen's wagon lumbers forward as his horses trot steadily, pulling the wagon and the cargo behind. The wheels creak in every turn— traversing the paths as they move towards the rough, gravel roads.
Moments ago, the fog had already dissolved from the area— seeing that Ruthwen could see the surrounding areas more clearly. He slowly turns his head to the left, searching through every detail of the stone buildings in the district.
The area is a small district village that houses commoners. The streets are bustling at this hour. Ruthwen looks around the place— scanning the vicinity as he finds more people coming out of different alleys— all busy with their lives.
He looks to his right as his wagon passes through an alley. On the horizon, he sees a crowded street where the marketplace resides. As Ruthwen lumbers head on, he looks to his left and gazes at the elegant scenery. He arrives at the market, where a small fountain resides in the middle, as the benches surround it at least five meters away.
His eyes widened in excitement as his smile grew with each throttle of the wagon. His head was full of thoughts, thinking about the future— A time when he could bring his family together and enjoy the scenery, creating The shadowy, tall figure ascends its body upward, revealing its white fur dancing along the breezing cold wind. The beast stood still, flaunting itself. The villagers below all avert their eyes towards the horrendous monster above them. In a moment's silence, the beast retreats his back slowly. Tilting its head— body tensed, his mouth half closed with his lips curled into a circle, drawing in air, puffing its chest out. The clouds quickly darkened, the poise sanity of a seemingly mundane life dislodged— dismantled, detached, and removed in the very lives of the innocent— leading to a time of despair.
memories together.
An hour later, he arrives at the Palace Gates. The gate's intimidating form looms toward Ruthwen, overwhelming him. He slowly positioned his wagon near the tower post as the steel frame opened.
"State your visit, commoner." The guard declared in a monotone voice.
"Well, dear, I am here to exhibit a fascinating find— that, Your Majesty, may take quite a liking to." He replied.
"Very well. State your name."
"Ruthwen Triear."
"Hm, Ferrun and Bezo informed me about you."
"Ah, those fine young knights? Yes, they did."
"Alright, you may proceed."
Ruthwen's eyes dilated, profusely sweating as he nervously plucks a piece of cloth inside his sling bag— wiping down his sweat. His hands trembling nervously, he tightened his grip on the rope and took a half-breath as he proceeded to enter the Palace Gates.
As the wagon lumbers forward, its wheels creaking in every turn— the cold breeze rustles through the freshly cut grassland— as the hedges sway along in the wind's direction. The rustling leaves create a soothing melody that gently tingles in your ears.
"What a beautiful scenery," Ruthwen thought to himself. "I wish I could take my daughter here with me." He slowly gazed at the extent of the grasslands— towards the stone-carved roads, the different blooming flowers next to the hedges, the swaying trees, and the marble gazebo on the right side.
"I hope the King will recognize me. I wish for at least a little compensation for what I have found." Ruthwen mumbles to himself, thinking how the King will compensate for his discovery.
"Maybe fifty gold? No, probably less than that. Twenty? No, Maybe ten? Oh dear, it's probably less than that!" As his thoughts cloud his head, both horses let out a loud noise— snapping Ruthwen back to reality. His head gently floats up as his eyes lock on to a large wooden doorway with two royal guards guarding the doorway. He widens his eyes, shocked that he has already reached the Palace doors.
"Halt!" The guard on the left declared.
"What brings you here, commoner?" He asked.
"I am here to exhibit my discovery to the King, sir."
"Hm. Very well, you may enter." The guard looks at the other on the right and nods his head. The guard nods back in reply. He walks toward the large door and opens it, entering the palace.
Moments later, he comes back— looks at the guard from the left, nods, and strides back to his Post.
"Alright, you may enter." The guard from the left said.
Ruthwen replies with a smile as he lumbers his wagon a turn, removing it away from the road. He positions his wagon right next to the small stone fence next to the hedges and settles it— as he gently unmounts his wagon, walking towards the palace doors, profusely sweating and his legs shaking. He fixes his ragged trousers and pats his shirt, removing some dust from his body
as he nervously walks forward, face to face with the Palace doors. He tightly grips the loincloth on his arms, hugging it towards him as he awaits the wooden doors to greet his very presence.
As the heavy wooden doors open, greeting Ruthwen with a welcoming approach. The marble floors shone from its greatness— with the vast arrays of stagnant marbled pillars, standing on either side of the maroon carpet— running across the horizon, ascending a small flight of stairs.
He gently floats his head up— locking his eyes with the person in the middle. Ruthwen slowly approaches their presence. In his peripheral vision, a display of three knights on either side of the throne stood immovable. Ruthwen's heart beats faster, his sweat sliding down his cheeks and onto the carpet. In the heart of the Palace lies the throne— a man wearing a dark green resplendent robe with a golden crown perching on his head.
His left arm resting on the Throne's armrest, his legs spread apart. His long, blackish-white hair follows his head as his gaze scours through the Palace.
Ruthwen finally arrives in front of the king— he hurriedly kneels on one knee, placing the loincloth on the ground on his right as he bows his head. He shouts, "Greetings, your Majesty! I am Ruthwen, a commoner residing in the outskirts between the outer and inner walls." He declared, his voice trembling.
"Greetings to you as well, Ruthwen. I have heard that you have found something that belongs to Royalty, yes?" The King replied.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I— Er, found this eh— rusty old sword in the outskirts of the outer walls, yes."
"And you believe it belongs to royalty, am I correct?" He removes his left arm from the throne's armrest, laying his back on the chair as his head slightly floats up— his gaze still fixed towards Ruthwen.
"Yes, my King. If you allow me, I'll be able to— show it to you." He replied. He gently floats his head up, peering towards the King as their eyes lock at each other. Ruthwen gives a nervous smile and slowly bows his head, closing his eyes.
"Very well, show it to me." The King declared.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Ruthwen takes the loincloth next to him and positions it to his front. He removes the rope from the hilt and quickly unfolds it, revealing a rusty sword. The king locks his eyes towards it as he examines the sword.
The sword's Pommel is a black circular piece of gemstone inserted on a steel-carved bird claw— and its handle, coiled tightly with leather strips, its brown hue remains unfaded. In the middle of its hilt, lies the circular symbol of a heart inside a flame— on either side of it lies the wings that guard the hand from sword strikes— made with iron. The rusty blade's appearance is deteriorating. Half of it destroyed, though its deteriorating appearance— on the right side of the blade lies a hint of someone's name carved onto it. The King's eyes widen from the sword's
revelation. The familiar shape of the sword knocks at the back of his head as his brain rummages through the collective memories he acquired— remembering the same sword that his Father had long prophesied. He extends his shaking hand, pointing at the weapon as his eyes widen in surprise.
"Where did you find this?!" He exclaimed.
"I have found it in the forests, Your Majesty."
"To what EXACT Forest?!" His volume increases with each word he utters.
"Six miles southwest from the Outer main gates, Your Majesty. I have found it immobile, lying in the snowy earth, deep inside the forests."
"You have done very well, Ruthwen. I must reward you for your efforts." The King smiles at him with a reassuring nod. He looks to his right, extending his right arm, and waves, "Eikyl!" He calls out for someone from over the door— a pale-ish woman dressed in a silky white regal robe saunters towards the throne— she stands elegantly with her hands clasped together as it rests below her stomach. "My dear, what do you need?" She replies calmly.
"Greetings, my dearest." He smiles, looking at her from the bottom to the top. "You look as beautiful as the sun's rays, my dear."
"Thank you, my love. So, what is it you have called me for?"
"Remember that necklace I gave you?"
"Yes, dear, why is it?"
"You did not take quite a liking to it, yes?"
"Yes, my darling."
"I want to give it to this commoner."
"But you gave it to me?" She says as her eyebrows furrowed.
"I know, my love. But I want to give it to this man as a reward!"
"Can't you just give him a platinum coin?" The volume of her voice slowly rises with each word she utters.
"I know, but this man deserves more than one platinum coin!" He says in a whisper. Toning his voice down, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.
"That necklace is the only thing you have given me, Emorosio! Why would I give it away to someone else?!"
"Shhh! Darling, tone your voice down!" He says, screaming in a whisper.
"DO NOT SHUSH ME, EMOROSIO. I WILL SLAP YOU." Her eyes flamed with anger.
"Darling, do not dare do that to me. I am your king!"
"I AM YOUR WIFE. DO. NOT. TEST ME."
Ruthwen slowly floats his head up, gazing at the situation above. Hearing their banter, he couldn't help but let out a chuckle. A few moments later, Eikyl leaves the area hurriedly, her face as red as a rose. Ruthwen turns his eyes towards the King— his left cheek marked by his wife's red lipstick marking on his cheek. Emorosio looks at him, flustered, and says,
"My apologies, er— Ruthwen. Your Queen Eikyl had a tantrum."
"It is fine, your majesty."
"Well, Alright." He clears his throat and says, "I shall reward you for your discovery. I, Emorosio, King of Emeraldia, reward you, Ruthwen the commoner, with three bags full of riches."
"I am utterly grateful for this reward, Your Majesty!"
"You may leave the sword there, for one of the guards will hand you your reward, and you can leave," Ruthwen nods in response as King Emorosio leaves the throne room, exiting from the right. Ruthwen stood there for a few minutes, awaiting his reward. Moments later, Coming from the hallway— on the left side, the guard enters the Throne room carrying three bags of gold as he walks towards him with his heavy-plated armor.
"Greetings, sir." Says Ruthwen.
"Greetings, commoner. Here is your reward." The knight handed the three bags. "Should I help you place it in your wagon?" He settles the bags on the ground and claps both hands, removing dust on his gauntlets.
"I'd be grateful, dear. Please do." Ruthwen nods as the Knight waves his hand, signaling one of the stationary guards to Ruthwen's right to bring the sword to the King. As both men head towards the exit, the knight carries two bags in both hands— and Ruthwen carries one.
As they finally exit the Palace, Ruthwen lumbers towards his wagon and places the bag inside the storage. Followed by the knight who sets two of the bags on either side of the wagon's storage.
Ruthwen turns toward the Knight— gives him a warm smile and bows his head. The knight replies with a bow— turns back, and leaves the wagon.
As Ruthwen mounts his wagon, he takes one last look at the Palace— tilting his head forward, bowing. He turns towards the road before the Palace and lets out a spirited "Hiyaaah!" as the horses throttle forward, exiting the Palace Exteriors.
As the sun begins to set, darkness begins to succumb to the streets of the Palace. Filling the surroundings with a thick, impenetrable fog. However, the light inside the castle reigns beyond the powers of darkness. In the third-story building of the castle, lies the light of the King's quarters. There, shadows of two individuals loom toward the window— as it opens. It was Eikyl, the Queen of Emeraldia. She places both her hands on the bottom of the window frame, leaning forward, exposing her fairly white skin to the air. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath— the strap of her white-laced top slowly falls to her shoulder. As King Emorosio appears behind her, embracing his beloved. Eikyl turns to her left— feeling her lover's warm breath hitting her nape. She smiled and said,
"My dear, look at the immense fog engulfing the Palace. Looking at it makes my skin crawl." She turns her head back outside the windows as Emorosio perches his chin on her shoulder,
"Dear, we are high up the mountains. Of course, we'll have immense fog." King Emorosio replied before kissing Eikyl's neck, walking towards their queen-sized bed— and instantly lying on the right side.
"Oh, my darling. You must comfort me!" Queen Eikyl dramatically saunters toward their bed and slowly makes her body fall towards their bed.
"You are being silly, dear." Emorosio let out a quick sigh and chuckled as he extended his right arm and grappled Eikyl's biceps, pulling her towards him.
"Oh my, are you that excited to embrace me?" Eikyl teased as she giggled.
"Yes, dear," Emorosio replied. He gives her a half-smile as he moves her closer to his body, cuddling her back.
"Darling," Eikyl turns her head over her left shoulder, her eyes fixed towards Emorosio's chest.
"Yes, dear?" He replied.
"I noticed something odd about you earlier."
"What do you mean?"
"Back when you were conversing with the old commoner," She gently removes his hands wrapped around her as she turns toward him. "When you saw the rusty sword, you went pale."
"So you noticed."
"What do you mean?"
"It is a long story."
"I see," She grabs his hand, intertwining with hers. "Could you perhaps tell me about it?"
"Are you sure?" He tilts his head, a little surprised by her request.
"I am sure, darling."
"Alright," He clears his throat as he begins to unfold the mysteries— the tales of the sword.
It all began when Emorosio was at the ripe age of fifteen. He was none other than the Prince of Emeraldia. Emorosio's father was a man of nobility, the King of Emeraldia. When destruction and despair struck the heart of the walls, his father came to aid the knights and the people, decimating thousands of invading forces— the Yetis.
King Emorosio's father once wielded a sword that encompassed all— a sword that bears the symbol of a flaming heart. The same sword the old commoner had found.
And in one fateful night, when the moon was at its highest peak, Emorosio's father declared to him,
"That in the near future, a man in ragged robes shall deliver to you the sword that holds all power, and you shall deliver yourself to the greater." Emorosio never truly learned what his father meant, but it holds the truth, and the truth has already revealed itself. Eikyl's eyes widened in shock— baffled by the information she had received. She begins to slowly lay her body on the right side of the bed, facing the closed window. She says,
"I think that is enough stories for today, darling. I shall get my rest."
"I think you are right, dear," Emorosio replied, tucking their blanket at the bottom of his chest— staring at the ceiling.
Deep in his thoughts, he recalled one of the tales his father had told him— a greater power that resides deep in the chasms of the mountains. He remembers one of the lines his father had prophesied, "Deliver yourself to the greater."
He turns to his right, and he wraps her left around her, with her right hand curled up— using it as a pillow. He closed his eyes, but he still couldn't get rid of the thought about the tale.
"...A riddle," He thought to himself. "Deliver yourself… To the greater… What could it possibly mean? Can it be derived from the tale he told me?" He pondered.
"That would be impossible. How can he prophesy a commoner to just— casually hand me his sword?"
"The chasmic emerald? How absurd! The greater power…" In a moment of realization, he widened his eyes in shock and instantly rose from his bed.
"That is presumptively correct! The chasmic emerald… Delivering myself to the greater power… The greater power that resides deep in the chasms, Yes! The Chasmic Emerald!" He turns towards her wife, Eikyl, who is sleeping peacefully. He begins to shake her, waking her up, and miserably fails.
"Alright, I should inform her tomorrow of my leave." He uttered before lying his back on the bed and closing his eyes.
As the night progresses faster, the sun begins to rise, greeting the Palace with its warmth— removing the thick darkness of the fog as King Emorosio busts the window open, startling his now awake wife.
"What in the bludgeoning hilt of a sword are you doing, Emorosio?!" She exclaimed. Emorosio tucks his pants, fixing it to fit inside.
"I am going on a quest, my darling. Please take care of the Palace for me." He replied, smiling at her.
"What?! What are you even thinking?!" She exclaimed, her newly awakened eyes squinting from the stinging morning air— with her furrowed eyebrows and wrinkling forehead, she threw a nearby unlit candle at him.
"A quest. I have already solved the riddle Father had left me before he tragically turned into dust. I must go."
"That is utterly absurd! You can't just solve something and now decide to go on a quest to find a once-lost treasure in the middle of a faraway land, would you?"
"Darling, my love, my beautiful wife, you must understand me. The kingdom is at STAKE."
"What in the great heavens are you TALKING ABOUT?!" She angrily shrieked.
"Look, my father prophesied something about a commoner giving me his sword back, now he wants ME to deliver myself into a CHASM full of UNKNOWN CREATURES IN ORDER TO BRING BACK PEACE AND ORDER!"
"I DO NOT HAVE ANY OUNCE OF UNDERSTANDING IN WHAT YOU HAVE SAID!" She screamed, throwing the pillows at him.
"I am sorry, my love, but I must go."
"This is utterly absurd, Emorosio. UTTERLY!"
"You must let me venture out."
"Alright then. So you must be bringing the guards, then?"
"No, I am going on my own."
"What! No, No, YOU ARE NOT GOING ALONE."
"Darling, this is my QUEST. I will be back before midnight."
"You.. wretched son of a..!" As she was about to utter the final words, Emorosio quickly leaned in and kissed her dry lips.
"I will be back, I PROMISE."
"You impudent, handsome man…!" She exclaimed, her face turning red as she slowly fell to her back, bouncing on their bed. Emorosio quickly strides down the door— exiting it as he hurriedly runs down the halls. Moments later, he arrives at the Palace stable and mounts a brown horse— as he throttles down the road, exiting the Palace gates. As he gallops down the empty morning streets
At this hour,
Ruthwen finally arrives at his home, greeting his beloved family and showing them his reward. Rosanthemum jumps up and down as she happily hugs her father.
As the cold breeze of the morning sways the nearby trees, The king had long left the Kingdom, heading northwest. Armed with only a sword and his brown hooded cloak, he marches towards as he throttles beyond the walls.
There, in the far reach of the horizon, comes the impending snowstorms and a thick fog surrounding the area.
"THUD, THUD, THUD." The sound of several footsteps trek the earth that trails the Kingdom— as thousands of gigantic shadows loom beyond the thick, dark fog. As the shadows slowly lumber closer, a hint of white furry skin reveals their character. Their massive size overlaps the size of the thirty-five-meter walls as their footsteps rumble at
These creatures… These terrifying monsters…
They are the Impending doom that awaits the kingdom.
CHAPTER, END.