"Commence the execution,"
Daemon's voice echoed through the vast air. Right away, when his voice faded, Vassilions cheered at the top of their lungs. Their fists shot at the sky. By the newest rays of the summer, silver blades that raised glinted.
In the next second, they lowered the blades, twenty heads separated from the white robs, splattering blood, and rolled down, completing the capital's cleansing. The noise got louder and louder. People hugged each other, wishing for more good luck. The heads of the traitors were exhibited along the capitol wall, and the slaughtered Avalonian armies were dumped into the dark forests or burned on the spot.
"Silence!" Tommy shouted. But he could not get rid of it.
"We are the Vassilios empire." Daemon continued his speech. "Empire that stood straight proudly in any storm or any war. We will continue to be strong and proud, unwavering our strength," The capitol rumbled with the cheers of the people.
As the crown prince turned on his heels and descended down from the gallery of the palace, his golden cape trailed behind him. His smile disappeared. After ten years of suffering from the Avalonian arrows, Vassilions could win. Vassilions could live.
He greeted the ministers and the nobles from every part of the country. He met with the priests in the holy islands by the dead criminals. They thanked Daemon with their life for saving the religion and their lives.
After all the blessings and talking, Daemon barged into a random room and pulled the annoying cravat out that strangled him to death.
He threw the circlet away, and a citrine attached to it detached.
He coughed, sitting on the bed and leaning forward. He combed his dark hair back and cleared his throat. He felt his shoulders clenching even though he did not want to. It was the same as the dream. He was sure about that, just as his name was Daemon Von Elijah Vladrian. The visions haunted him for the past entire month.
But there was no golden-haired person. Daemon was not happy. And... and he was missing something. He sighed, trying to calm down. The victory they brought together was not a simple one. Even though most knights, soldiers, and servants were unaware of what they truly did, he felt proud. He saved the empire. Yet there was a blank that he could not fill with anything.
He felt thirsty.
And someone knocked on the door.
"WHAT?!"
Despite his thunder, the door slowly opened. He expected to see his butler with a jug, forgetting that he had just now beheaded him. But it was neither Tommy nor the new butler.
"Your Highness," Her subtle feminine voice made him turn his head. Even though she still had dark circles under her eyes, still pale as ever, she stood before the public. She slowly entered the room. "Am I bothering you?" The saintess asked.
"No, please come in saintess. I thought you were someone else. Have a seat," He offered the courtesy, ignoring the shattered crown. Saintess walked and sat by the table and placed her hands together on her colourless dress. She looked tired and bony, while her silky black hair was flattered slowly by the wind that came from nowhere.
To this day, they all work together. Their alliance was to find the Avalon spies within the temple and to save the innocent people imprisoned in the holy islands. The saintess alone could not do anything because of the high priest's influence, and she asked for Daemon's help with a great deal of repaying.
"It must have been stressful, my prince. I apologize for not being able to help you," She said as she was poisoned when all the chaos occurred.
"It was not your fault, Riana. Honestly, it was better that you stayed away from Sylvain's wicked plan," Daemon said. He tangled his hands together, leaning on his knees.
"Isn't he still imprisoned?"
"Yes, And he will Until I'm done with him," Daemon threatened, recalling all the behind-the-stage drama he had to see all this time because of that man.
Coincidently, he saw his reflection in the mirror propping against the wall. "Poisoning you was not in their plan" He continued. "They have no idea about it. And the Avalonians do not use such petty tricks to get someone down. They would plan for two years to invade the capital of the empire."
The saintess chuckled. "Your Highness has gathered much experience in that field by now,"
"Am I not?" Daemon sneered.
"... Your Highness, please forgive..." Daemon could not hear the saintess's words. His glance trailed down to the brooch on his chest, on his reflection. It was another brooch from Daniella adorned with a ruby.
Outside the palace where the victory parade took place, Sir Kyle Henley led the paladin knights who protected the temple in the cleansing. Royal blue and white paladin flag flattered in the wind filled with confetti and petals. The streets rang their names. Women waved at them, throwing white roses. Before the roaring of the people, they rode horses proudly.
"Won't it leave a mark?" Sir Yell who rode next to Kyle, asked. He stared at him.
"Pardon?" Kyle asked back, not knowing what he was talking about.
"The cut on your face" He explained.
"Oh!" Kyle had nothing to say. "... I don't know,"
A scar resembled a knight's life of honour. If it were a battlefield or an ambush protecting his mistress, he would not get this much annoyed. He hated himself more than anything for dragging Princess Azalea out of the prison that day. If he could go back in time using some witchcraft, he would stab the "Sir Kyle" at that time.
He remembered staring at the saintess as her life was slowly slipping away within her body. He snapped and went to prison, ignoring all the chaos in the palace.
Avalonians?
Don't jest with me.
He thought at that time.
He dragged Princess to his study room in the palace and pushed her on a chair. She was thrown like a rag. Then he placed his dagger in front of the table and placed his hands on the armrest. Leaning forward, he got closer to her brown eyes.
But as he expected, she did not cry or beg. In her eyes, there was nothing.
"Listen here, princess. I am perfectly capable of killing you right now. Your father or the loving prince would never know what happened to pathetic body of yours. Well, They don't truly care about you. Do they? So what is the bloody antidote?" He spoke, gritting his teeth. "I am asking for the one last time,"
Her brown orbs were locked with Sir Kyle's black ones.
"Which one?" She asked calmly, tilting her head. "I own half of the poison gardens in the continent. So what kind of poison is it?"
"... What?"
And the door lock broke.
"What in the world are you doing, Sir Kyle?! Do you want to die?" He did not see who that was. He could not move. Some invincible grip was on his neck, and his hands made him unable to move. Princess Azalea glared at the one who barged in.
"Aren't you Silly's aide?" She asked, still suffocating Kyle with her eyes.
"Y-Yes my lady"
"Well," Her voice was firm and calm. She brought her hand to Kyle's cheek, who went mute. "Since the paladin knights are so eager to draw blood..." Her thumbnail dug into his skin, drawing a line under Kyle's right eye. Blood trailed down as if he was tearing up.
"Count Arwan's knights will not protect the temple. They are escorting their lady away from this shithole" She smiled sweetly.