A Dish Best Served Cold.

[Lucyfer]

Chai tea was a favorite of Mitchell, and so Hazel nodded, “We do have that,” it was also popular with a few others who found its exotic flavor to be delightful. Even so, Mitchell tended to hide it and lie to people about it. He wanted it all for himself.


The King finished his tea, and Hazel gave him a smile, “Rest well,” and she stole out of the room with her cup when he shut his eyes to give him peace for the night.


She remained up for several more hours, tending the bar with Mitchell while Aidan cooked. Demetrius remained, waiting until they closed up shop. By then, his daughter was asleep in her chair. “What is it, Demetri?” Mitchell asked as he cleaned the counter near his brother. Hazel was on dish duty. Aidan was already preparing what he could for breakfast tomorrow, and making notes of what they might need to get if their parents didn’t return.


“The guest of yours. You haven’t told me the truth.” Demetrius answered, lifting his gaze to catch Mitchell’s. “I’ve heard more than the Lords.” Demetrius had ambition, despite not having an ounce of noble blood in him. He married wealthy, and he lived in Verres, rubbing shoulders with merchants from far away and making a name for himself. He still came to visit often; he had an interest in the success of the Will-o-Wisp, after all. He would own it when their parents died. “I heard of the armor he was in.”


Mitchell gave a smile, “It’s as I told Lord Diddy,” he told him.


“Then let me see for myself.”


“Do you even know that knight?”


“Yes.” He knew quite a few more lords and nobility than anyone there. “Not personally, but I’ve met him on occasion.”


“He needs his rest, Demetrius,” Hazel said, but she walked around the counter. She didn’t intend to lie to her brother, so she whispered, “It’s Jory,” in his ear as she passed him by to retrieve some of the dishes left on tables.


Demetrius’s fist hit the table and he rose to his full height, “And you two have been treating him?” He looked between Mitchell and Hazel. He didn’t need to ask, and they didn’t need to answer. “What if he realizes what you’ve done? He’ll have the both of you hung.”


Mitchell straightened. He was taller than Demetrius, and when he wanted to, he could look intimidating. “He won’t.” Mitchell said simply. “So, are you staying the night here, Demetri?” His voice took a biting note to it, then. “You can bunk with Aidan, if so.”


“Hey! That’s not fair!” Aidan shouted from the kitchen.


Demetri shook his head, brown locks falling into his eyes then. “Damn the both of you,” he’d never curse his mother for the magic, just his siblings for continuing it. They could be the ruin of him, too. “I’ll be staying,” he agreed.


It was then that Hazel found ways to get Demetrius to start aiding in clean-up. Family was always forced to help.


Despite going to sleep late, all the siblings were up a little before dawn in order to start preparations for breakfast, for themselves, and for their eventual guests. Coffees and teas were ready. Demetrius was forced into a chef hat and sent to the back with Aidan, while his daughter aided at the front with her charming smile and the charisma that many children had. It kept a light mood that morning.


Mitchell and Hazel took shifts checking to see if Jory had stirred. Hazel was the one to notice when his eyes were open, “Good morning,” she spoke softly in the hopes he wouldn’t be startled, blue dress on with a white apron over just the skirt-portion. For some reason, if she didn’t wear it in the morning, she’d end up getting her dress dirtier than necessary. Her hair was also put up in the mornings. “Would you like breakfast and chai?”

 

[Wiggle]

Jory blinked a few times and sat up, and noticed that the protest from his stomach wound was a lot quieter than it was before he fell asleep. There was no real pain, only the slight soreness one would get after a hard day of practicing sword play. It appeared that he would be starting his quest much sooner than he had expected to. Perhaps he would take only a few more days of taking it easy and resting to make sure he was healed before he set off on his quest to reclaim his throne.


"That would be wonderful." Jory said, with a polite smile. "What did you make?"


He asked this as he slowly swung his legs over the edge of the featherbed and planted his two bare feet firmly on the ground, and pushed himself up off the bed and took a few slow shuffling steps over to the table where his blackened armor lay, awaiting his return. It felt good to be on his own two feet once again, as early as it was after suffering his wound. Something wasn't quiet right about it, though, no man was able to heal this fast on his own, even with normal medicine. Something had to have speeded his recovery up, but in all honesty, Jory didn't care. The woman had been kind enough to shelter him in her place of business and home, treat him, and pamper him until he had recovered. Whatever she had used, anything short of blood magic, was welcomed with open arms. Jory decided against asking, figuring that he wouldn't like the answer, and instead tried to stoop over to pick up a gauntlet that had found it's way away from the other pieces, but his stomach screamed in protest, causing him to grow a look of discomfort on his face and straighten back up. He wasn't ready for that, he could barely walk, so those few days of rest would benefit him greatly.


Jory turned to Hazel and gave her another kind smile before shuffling back to the featherbed, sitting on the edge and getting back under the covers before settling in with a sigh. He was going to be in bed for a while before he was able to return to his former self one hundred percent. He looked up at Hazel again and sighed.


"Could you also bring me some books too?" He asked. "I'm not quite ready to return to my former self yet, so I might be here for a little while longer."

 

[Lucyfer]

Fortunately, the king had an appetite. That would help him now that natural healing could take place. How much he’d progressed under the guidance of magic was noticeable when he rose and walked over to his armor. Hazel smiled at the sight of it, a little impressed with her own talent. “We’ve made quite a few things,” diner, after all. “I will bring you a plate, though if you find it not to be to your liking, we can talk over what else is available,” she offered.


She was turning to leave when he mentioned books. She paused, considered, then nodded, “I think I can find a few things for you to read while you stay here.” She’d have to be a little careful in her selection. Her family didn’t own many books—they were expensive, after all, and so most of the ones they owned were not the sort that they shared. Even so, she was certain there was an anthology of legends around somewhere.


Hazel exited the room then, and went back downstairs. She swung into the kitchen, hand on the doorway, to speak to Aidan, “Would you make our guest a plate, please? Nothing too hardy.”


Aidan frowned at that, immediately looking at all the food they did have. It was mostly what he would call hardy—sausage gravies and delicious, starchy foods. Even so, he said, “Uh, sure.” Hazel nodded and swung out of the room to go to another, trying to think of where that anthology was. She found it in her parents’ study, on the shelf. It was a few decades old, but well-bound so that it did not appear so. The print was beautiful within, ornate and calligraphic. Her father’s grandfather had created it in his old age.


She tucked the red book under an arm and returned to the kitchen to fetch the plate. She arched a brow, not thinking it very light, but she took it nonetheless. If the king did not think he could eat it, she’d figure out something herself.


Hazel carefully balanced the plate and book so that she’d have a hand to knock with before stepping into the room. “I’m afraid my brother Aidan isn’t sure what a light meal is,” she said as she set the plate of sausage, fried potatoes and gravy, and eggs on the table. She set the book near it, but not close enough that it was threatened by the plate. “I’ll go get the chai, and if you don’t want to eat that,” she motioned, “I’ll look for something else in the kitchen as well.”

 

[Wiggle]

Jory nodded and watched her leave, a small smile creeping across his lips. He really hadn't noticed how feminine Hazel was, and that she was quite attractive. The only problem was she wasn't highborn, she was a commoner and highborns were to only mate within highborn families. Jory was bethrothed to a pretty young girl from House Jermi but now Jory wasn't sure if she'd be married off to one of Vyran's sons or not now that Jory was thought dead. Jory didn't see why it mattered, he was king. If a King wanted to marry a commoner, then he'd marry a commoner.


Jory chuckled at himself, and shook his head. He'd only been here for two days, and he was already thinking of marrying his caretaker. Then again, it would be a huge show of gratitude. She would go from a commoner to the most powerful woman in the kingdom. She wouldn't have to work another day in her life, but then again, Jory wasn't sure if she'd like that. He was interrupted once again from his thoughts by a few knocks on the door frame. That's when the smell of food hit him and his mouth began to water, the food smelled delicious and that made his stomach utter a low growl. He smiled at Hazel and shook his head, and waved his hand to dismiss the notion.


"I'd only ask for something else if I was unable to stomach it." He said. "Don't worry yourself, I'm extremely grateful for your hospitality, you've given me the chance to reclaim my throne."


He pushed himself up out of the featherbed and made his way over to the table where he slowly lowered himself into the chair, and grabbed the fork and knife, and cut a piece from the sausage and stuck it into his mouth and chewed. It was just as delicious as he thought, and his stomach growled louder, begging for more. Jory nodded at Hazel to show he liked it, and continued to eat. He would no doubt have the plate finished by the time she got back.

 

[Lucyfer]

The food was what some would consider stereotypically masculine—or that’s what Aidan liked to think. He teased Mitchell over his own eating habits, and always exclaimed that the food needed more gravy. For some reason, it came as no surprise to Hazel that Jory was all but salivating at the food. It was delicious, even if she also considered it decadently unhealthy comfort food that they all needed to eat less of.


She still ate it often.


“You’re welcome.” And with his nod, she was out of the room again to fetch the kettle and tea. “Mitchell?” She called once down there.


“Yeah?” He looked up his conversation with Aidan, giving another order of food.


“Where are you hiding the chai?”


Their lovely friend, Nathan Phaedron, perked up. Why he didn’t have breakfast with Didymus, no one ever knew. In fact, the amount of time he spent away from Didymus was sometimes a topic. “Ya told me there wasn’t any more chai!”


Mitchell glared at Hazel, but he answered, “It’s in my room,” and to Nathan, “There’s no chai for sale. Mom and dad went to get more of that. It’ll be here later today.” Now he’d have to share. Curses.


“Thanks!” Hazel took the already-hot kettle from within the kitchen as well as two cups, and then went back towards the rooms. She slipped into her brothers and found the chai in plain sight on his desk. She took it and returned promptly to the room of the king, knocking as before and then stepping in. She quickly prepared the chai in the kettle, steeping it in and setting it aside to let the water take in the flavor.


Seeing how much he had already gulped down, she laughed, “Well, I’m glad this was too your liking. I’ll be sure to tell Aidan,” he’d be absolutely delighted.

 

[Wiggle]

Jory didn't even manage to see the woman off before he stared to devour whatever was remaining of his breakfast, savoring each and every bite for a short amount of time before swallowing and replacing that mouthful with another. Jory was honestly quite surprised that he was eating such food so soon after his injury, and he was nearly positive that he would be eating, or drinking rather, broth for the next week or so. To eat such a hearty breakfast was extraordinary so soon after an injury such as his. The sword had penetrated his stomach, and touched the front his spine, Jory was completely in awe that he had no infection, and wasn't crippled. He'd seen his share of warriors who'd suffered the same type of injury as his, only to succumb to gangrene and bloodrot. Jory stared at the empty and grunted loudly. Perhaps he shouldn't question the second chance the God of Dawn had given him to live and reclaim his throne, and just put it to good use, but he couldn't help but be curious as to how it came to be.


There were three knocks, which prompted Jory to glance over towards the door, just as Hazel returned with the kettle, cups and a few bags of the chai. A delighted smile spread on Jory's face and he tapped the table in front of the second chair twice, to tell Hazel to sit across from him once she had finished preparing.


“Well, I'm glad this was too your liking. I'll be sure to tell Aidan.” She said with a laugh.


"It was, it was delicious." Jory said. "Although, I'm quite surprised that I survived the wound, and I'm up and walking, so soon afterwards. I've seen soldier suffer smaller stomach wounds than mine, yet they succumbed to gangrene and bloodrot and died not soon after. The sword that caused this wound pierced my stomach and nicked the front of my spine. I should be by, all accounts, dead or close to it. But yet here I stand, as if I had only fallen ill and am now just gaining my strength back. It doesn't make sense, at all."


He narrowed his eyes, and shook his head, pushing the plate to the side and reaching for the book.


"I guess I should be grateful, but I have to admit, it's quite intriguing." He said. "Have you ever been in the North, around Nordstein? House Gregor's castle?"

 

[Lucyfer]

Hazel did take her seat, since the teapot could rest on the table with them while it soaked in the flavor.


Her smile and humor did not die when Jory continued speaking after he agreed the food was good. It did lose some of its intensity. It was evident what he wanted to say about the fast healing. His suspicions were in his word choice, if not his tone.


Demetri’s fears became her own, but she did not let them manifest on her face. She’d been lying about this for years, and only the Leal’s had ever figured it out. “Not much makes sense in this world, Jor—Jyth.” Why did she even think it would be appropriate to call him by his first name in the first place? She mentally chastised herself for the slip, then reached for the tea and began to pour it out, “A child will die to a cold that an old man will survive.” She spoke from the experience of seeing these things. She could remember the shouts of the distraught mother, blaming the older gentleman for his survival when her child had been taken from her. It had been such a queer sight. “A soldier will succumb to food poisoning after surviving battle wounds.”


She placed a cup before Jory, “We must be grateful for the miracle of life.”


When he spoke of the north, she shook her head, “No, not personally. I’ve heard of it from Nathan Phaedron,” he had traveled the world in his younger years as a knight, though. He had always told stories of it. “My brother Demetrius may know Nordstein. He has been traveling more of late,” she wasn’t sure if he had gone north yet. “My father would know,” of that much, she was certain. “Why is it you ask, though?” If he needed someone to guide him, she’d have to hope her brother Demetrius knew a bit, and could be convinced. Nathan wouldn’t go so far while under Didymus’s employ, and her father was a bit too old.

 

[Wiggle]

Jory waved his hand in the air, dismissing his thoughts and her usages of his name.


"Perhaps you're right, I should be grateful for the second chance that I've been given." He said, stopping for a moment. "But it's still interesting, perhaps the Dawn God favor is truly with the Barras."


He pulled the tome of legends toward him, and flipped it open, scanning through the pages until he came to a Sir Kevin Darkon, The Dragon's Bane. He'd heard of this legend multiple times, mostly from his uncle, who used the ancient legend to instill courage into his Ravenguard. Jory snorted as he remembered the times he told it to him. Sir Kevin supposedly fought the ancient dragon Numyra for several days, trying to reclaim his family's ancient seat on Seawatch. The Dragon had all but killed the Darkons off, and chose their hold as his own.


“No, not personally. I've heard of it from Nathan Phaedron,” She said. “My brother Demetrius may know Nordstein. He has been traveling more of late, my father would know,” She said, confident “Why is it you ask, though?”


Jory once again waved his hand to dismiss her notion.


"It's not a guide I need.' He said. "I've been to Nordstein multiple times, my father would send me to be with my cousins during the hot summers. I tell you, there's no one hardier than the Gregors, with their Mountaintop fortress. It's a healer, someone who can help me. I need someone of your caliber, and I won't question your.....talents. I realize there is something you're not telling me, my lady. I smelled the poultices, sauves and whatever else you put on my wound. I drifted in and out of consciousness multiple times during it. Come with me to Nordstein."


The look on Jory's face was serious, his red eyes narrowed at Hazel. It was a strange request to ask a stranger, but Jory didn't care.

 

[Lucyfer]

Hazel nodded when Jory suggested the Dawn God was favorable. Well, why argue it? Jory had made it here, where he was taken care of. He could have ended up anywhere else in the world. He turned to the book, and Hazel sipped her chai. If he would prefer to read it alone and in silence, she’d slip out when he was engaged in some story and hope not to disturb him.


As it was, he chose to talk, commenting on her words of Nordstein. Jory did not require a guide, it seemed, but a healer. Her eyes widened in surprise at being asked to continue the journey with Jory, and indeed, she did consider that he must be joking until his red eyes lifted from the book and narrowed on her.


She wasn’t sure if there was a threat written in them or not, considering his allusions to her non-traditional talents.


‘Well….’ She could argue that all poultices and salves smelled of herbs. The magic itself offered no additional scent, so there was evidence he didn’t fully understand what was done. ‘What is the line, the lady doth protest too much?’ Something like that. To act defensively would give her away too easily. “You do not question much, I’ve noticed.”


He questioned where he was, of course, but little else. He was set in his goals. It must have seemed like there was very little to question. “Mitchell has the same talents as I,” though he had sent Mitchell away last night for better company. “But if you are willing to trust what you do not know, then I will accompany you.” Truth told, she wanted to see Nordstein. She wanted to see quite a lot. This would be no pleasure journey, but the king was correct—he would need a healer, and though Mitchell had all the skill she had, he was not so good at improvising. That would be necessary for such a trip. “Since you have been there, what sort of things will be required to make the journey?” He would know better how best to begin preparations.

 

[Wiggle]

"I do not." Jory said. "I figured that if you wished me dead, you'd have let me die or had killed me during my rest. But yet, here I am, and you sit across from me, drinking tea. I have also heard rumors among the court that there were still witches and warlocks living among the common folk. I cannot accuse you of being one, and frankly I don't care if you are or not, perhaps you are only skilled in salves and poultices because your family has a healer, or you are one yourself. But anyone who would help me despite risking life and limb is a friend of mine, and a friend of the kingdom."


He went back to skimming over the book, when her next question was let loose, prompting him to close the book and look up at her.


“But if you are willing to trust what you do not know, then I will accompany you.” She said. “Since you have been there, what sort of things will be required to make the journey?”


"The trip to Nordstein is not an easy one, it takes two weeks to ride from the capitol, and that we're not that far off, it would take maybe two weeks and a few days. We should pack food for three weeks and a bit extra, and bring waterskins. There's several streams and rivers from here to Nordstein. We'll need weapons, as there are many wild creatures in the wilderness between here and there. A bow and arrow would be useful too, for hunting, just in case something happens to our food."

 

[Lucyfer]

Jory did not accuse her of a witch overtly, but it was implicit in everything he said. Was he looking for her to confess? She’d not do so, she was not half as trusting as him, it seemed, with secrets. Right now, she could deny, and hold on to his words of being just a healer with potent salves.


She appreciated the trust he put in her, but too many years had taught her that it took time as well as actions. Or perhaps it was just Didymus who taught her the fine art of acting and betraying one’s trust, once it was earned. There were those in this world who would save lives, only to end them when it was more beneficial to do so.


The trip was apparently to be quite long, not a day’s journey to the market as she was accustomed to, but over two weeks. Rations she could pack, but weapons were not in her range of understanding, nor fighting. “I can certainly pack the things you request,” she noted, speaking thoughtfully, “but if you are looking for a hand that can also fight, we may need to bring another along with us. I have no experience in the art.”


The animals cooked here were, after all, domestic. There was no hunting involved, let alone fighting. “I could see if any would be willing to serve as an escort of sorts to Nordstein if you wish to have another fighting hand,” it crossed her mind to ask Aidan, but she mentally shook it off. Aidan might know a thing or two, but he had no real experience.

 

[Wiggle]

“I can certainly pack the things you request,” she noted, speaking thoughtfully, “but if you are looking for a hand that can also fight, we may need to bring another along with us. I have no experience in the art. I could see if any would be willing to serve as an escort of sorts to Nordstein if you wish to have another fighting hand."


Jory leaned back in his chair and immediately thought of the very first lesson the Keep's Master-At-Arms taught him. A smiled spread across his lips as he looked at Hazel.


"There was a lesson that the Master at Arms taught me the very first day I held a practice sword." Jory said, remembering back to his days spent learning. ""When in doubt, stick them with the pointy end" is what he said, then he laughed and said he read it in a book sometime. I used to think that he was only joking, but it wasn't until I was in my very first fight for my life as a small group of bandits attacked our hunting caravan. When I forgot everything else and just stabbed a bandit with my sword. It worked and the man isn't going to steal anymore."


Jory leaned forward and sipped on his tea before returning to his relaxed position.


"Just us two would be fine." Jory said. "We don't need a large company, as it would attract attention and as I'm sure you're well aware, I'm wanted for dead. The less chance we have to attract attention, the more chance we have of making it to Nordstein safely, and besides, the Obsidian Road is always full of traders, merchants, minstrels, and travellers traveling between the capital and Nordhalt, and once we get to Nordstein, it won't matter."

 

[Lucyfer]

Hazel almost laughed herself at the advice that Jory gave, but the fact he continued talking caused her just to smile widely at that. Such a simple lesson, likely with some merit of truth, but she still doubted very much it was of use. Hazel understood that much already, but she’d never practiced with the weight of a sword. She knew not timing or the rhythm of battle. Jory spoke of how it helped him, but Hazel knew he had training with weapons before that fateful day with the bandits.


“Well, I shall keep that in mind,” she offered, but there was little confidence in her voice. “I will go see how much my brothers are going to protest your arrangements in my attempt to procure our necessary traveling goods.” Hazel rose, and took her tea cup with her. “I’ll hope they are reasonable.” They would be perfectly reasonable. That was going to be the problem, in truth.


Mitchell would throw a fit, this she knew. That might be the end of it. She wasn’t going to sneak out, and she knew all three would be rightfully suspicious of the arrangements.


A young common woman traveling with a king? Everyone would imagine she’d return with a bastard, if she was even that lucky—she might simply return without her purity, and no bastard to ensure financial security. Not that she imagined it would go that way, but stories—and not the fairy tales—were rife with that sort of thing. Nobles used common women, since they could not use noble women.

 

[Wiggle]

"In the end, it is your decision whether you'd wish to join me or not." He said. "You're a woman grown, and I'm sure you're more than capable of making your own decisions."


He looked down at the book in front of him, and then shifted his glance up at Hazel, who appeared to be deep in thought, her cup of tea hovering just before her lips. Jory raised an eyebrow at the woman, and found himself wondering what she was thinking about. He stood after her, and walked to the door and peered down the stairs, and then back at Hazel.


"You should make your decision." He advised. "I plan on leaving a few days from now, and the sooner we leave, the less time that Vyran has to bring more houses under his rule. I'm sure with House Gregor on our side, more houses will see fit to join their rightful king."


Every time Jory thought of the ugly white haired general, his blood boiled in his veins. After he had gotten his hands on that traitorous bastard, he would have his head on a spike and his body burned. That was the most disrespectful thing one man could do to another. The head was the spirit's vessel, and to separate it from one's body, and to cremate the body was to force the spirit to wander the Spiritplains for eternity. Jory took a deep breath, and released his fist and turned toward Hazel, and walked past her to his bed, which he settled into.


"Go, tell your brothers, and then begin to prepare."

 

[Lucyfer]

Hazel would have laughed, if Jory’s statement weren’t so ridiculous. ‘Oh yes, it is as much my choice as who a princess marries is her choice.’ Hazel was fortunate only in the fact her father would let her choose, because it was important in many ways. Hazel could not marry someone who would blackmail her because she was a witch, it had to be someone worthy of trust.


Hazel could never own property, though, and her life was still technically her father’s to dictate. If he wanted her to marry someone in particular, he could have it be done.


There was no need to remind the king of such a trivial thing as being wrong, though. He was still caught in his fantasy of revenge and reclamation, of good triumphing over evil, and she nodded. She did intend to tell her brothers, and did intend to go. How quick those intentions were to die was another matter. ‘Better sooner than later.’ Before she got attached to the idea.


Hazel inclined her head and exited the room. The breakfast rush was clearing out and she leaned against the counter until Mitchell looked over. “Enjoying the chai?”


The bitterness was wonderful. “I am. Actually, I think I am going to be heading up to Nordstein for a while.”


“No.” Mitchell and Demetrius both. Aidan wasn’t paying enough attention to protest.


“You’re not going anywhere with the stranger,” Demetri added.


Mitchell nodded, “You’d die up north, anyway.”


"I wouldn't," Hazel said, "I have an idea of the supplies to bring, and how long the trip should be."


“Is he forcing you?”


“Threatening?”


“What are we talking about?” Aidan finally chimed in.


Mitchell threw his wash rag down and walked on by to let Demetrius explain. He knew that Hazel would deny everything asked and, true or not, he would see to it that the king reconsidered this request.


He didn’t knock this time when he entered. “Bad enough you drink my chai,” Mitchell had some humor in his voice, “Now you want to take my sister up north?” His voice challenged the king for a decent reason.

 

[Wiggle]

“Bad enough you drink my chai,” Mitchell said, a hint of teasing. “Now you want to take my sister up north?”


Jory looked up from the old book that lay open in front of him, he softly closed the book and pushed it away before leaning back in his chair and studying the bar help. He remembered his voice from when they were treating him, but he could not recall his name. He cleared his throat and gave him another once over before returning his eyes to the man's face.


"Yes." He said nonchalantly. "War is coming, and I have need of a good healer. Your sister has interesting talents, and I would make use of them in the coming battles. If she could help me regain my kingdom, then it is not right to deny your true king this."


Jory gazed out of the window and onto the fields below, they were teeming with workers and farmers, preparing to plant their crops. Jory knew what Vyran's men would do to them, and the women. He turned back to the man with a fire in his red eyes.


"You are foolish if you think life will continue on as it did when I was sitting on the throne. Vyran is a warrior, and a General at that, if left unchallenged, in a year's time, his men will be marching through his town, taking what they please. They will raid your cellars and steal what wine and ale you have, and they will not be as nice as I am to your sister. They will take her, and do with her what they please, and if she resists, they'll cut her tongue out so that she can't say no, if they're kind. You and your family's existence would rely on her answer, if she says no again, they may take a breast from her, or a finger, or they might put her to the sword and burn your family's tavern. Vyran doesn't care what his men do, that's how he keeps their loyalty. He allows them to do what they want, be it rape, pillaging, or murder, and in return, they die for him. Now, I ask you, friend. Would you allow your sister to suffer a fate such as that? Or will you allow her to join me, and help me in my war to reclaim my throne? Life is much better under the true Kings, you must take my word for it."


He turned his head down to the book, and took a sip of the chai tea. His words were harsh, but they were true, Vyran needed to be checked.

 

[Lucyfer]

Mitchell listened to the king rant and rave about what a terrible person his usurper was. Propaganda at best, and a realization that Jory wasn’t fit at worst. “So what you’re telling me is that you want me to entrust my sister to some lunatic who gave this rapist General Vyran power and authority in the first place?” It was rhetorical. He knew that Jory would argue against what he just said. He also knew that if Jory ever got the throne again, he’d regret calling him a lunatic.


He crossed his arms, “Look, we’ve done enough,” and he meant the ‘we’ part. “And there are plenty of better battle medics out there. It takes quite a bit of time and knowledge to know all the combinations to make good salves, and she knows what’s here. Out in the north, she won’t be of much use to you when she runs out of her own supply.” He knew that was a bit of a lie. Hazel was good with innovation, once she understood the basic properties of the ingredients she was working with.


“Besides, if Vyran is that bad, there’s plenty of nobles who are cozy now, that will rise up and raise an army between themselves with their wealth to destroy Vyran,” the Leals would be at the top of that list. They kept power here because of how they could protect their own people. They might be turncoats, but they understood that a pacified public was how they kept their peace. If the public was an uproar, they’d have no power. “You aren’t the only person in the world who can challenge Vyran.”


~***~


Demetrius took a different approach down below, “Why do you wish to go with him?” He inquired, pouring himself a cup of tea. It could go either way, good or bad, Demetri knew, “Don’t tell me you fancy him.”


Hazel chuckled at that, “Dear, I see plenty of attractive men I fancy, that has hardly caused me to make a foolish decision.” Demetrius accepted that, but waited for more of an answer, “I think he has a chance.”


“What does it matter if he does?”


“Aren’t you the one who wants to be a Lord?”


“You aren’t hungry for power, Hazel.” Hazel looked down into her tea. “What are your motives?” When she didn’t answer, he sighed, “Those are poor motives.” She would have said it, were they not in the public space. It was her silence that gave away the answer. She wanted to prove that witchcraft was not something to be frowned upon or destroyed. “You have not even told him.”


She bit the inside of her cheek. Demetrius could read her too well, sometimes.

 

[Wiggle]

"I never commanded Hazel to join me." Jory said, fighting to keep his anger at bay. "I simply asked if she would, to which she agreed. It is her you should be calling a lunatic, not your rightful and true king. I had Vyran exiled to the Bathryn Deserts, which was my first order as King. General Vyran was a mere commander in my father's army, and at the time, he hid his true person well. He was a brilliant tactician, and an excellent commander, he instilled fear in his enemies, which was needed at the time. If you had forgotten about the war between your country and Lythoria, and I assume you have, living your little paradise here, Vyran was a very effective tool."


Jory stopped, and took a few deep breaths. The way this....peasant....was speaking to him angered him greatly, but he could not draw his sword and cut the man down where he stood, and especially not since he had willingly helped save his life, even when the cost of doing so might involve death.


“Besides, if Vyran is that bad, there’s plenty of nobles who are cozy now, that will rise up and raise an army between themselves with their wealth to destroy Vyran,” The man said. “You aren’t the only person in the world who can challenge Vyran.”


That was the last straw for Jory, he slammed his fist into the table, and stood and turned toward Mitchell.


"No, but I am the only one who has a right!" He thundered, before lowering his voice to a fierce whisper. "If you think your nobles would help you, then you are as foolish as you look. Open your eyes, and look at what they did to me, to the rightful King. They sat behind their walls, and allowed Vyran to kill my friends, my servants, and maybe even my Uncle, my only last living family member. Maybe they strung his body up on the walls to show what happens to people who resist, maybe they cut his head off and paraded it around the streets, or maybe they were merciful and burned his corpse. I don't know, but I watched as his men slaughtered my guards, people who had families like you, people who were loved. Your Lords of Leal wouldn't come to your aid, they would sooner sit in their fortress and allow your town to be burned to the ground if it meant keeping their positions as Lords. They care not for the common folk, what difference does it make to them in their handspun silks if a commoner is killed, or raped, or tortured? They will still hold feasts and invite their friends, they will still slept throughout the night, they'll still piss and shit in their golden chamber pots. What did your King do for you? What did we do when the Grey Plague was ravaging your livestock, friends and family? What did we do when the Two Year Winter killed your crops, and left you and your family to starve? My family sent healers from his own household, sent grain and vegetables from his own storehouses, for free. He asked for nothing but your loyalty and your love."


During Jory's rant, he didn't even notice the burning and stinging feeling in his abdomen. He had torn open the scab that covered the wound, and was now bleeding heavily, and it was soaking through his white linen shirt in a large unsightly dark red stain. It was only until he felt lightheaded and dizzy did he happen to look down at the bloodstain. Jory slid to his knees, and tried to steady himself, but failed and fell forward onto the ground, and lost consciousness.

 

[Lucyfer]

Mitchell certainly would call Hazel a lunatic, but it didn’t make the man before him less of one. That his family ever saw fit to hire Vyran when all they could spill was filth about him bothered Mitchell. The reasoning behind it bubbled up and put words to Mitchell’s fears when Jory rose up and slammed his fist on the table.


‘There is no grey with you, is there?’ His lips curled as the king ranted. He wanted to yell at him to shut up, to hear what he was saying, but his eyes were averted down at the sight of red. Blood. ‘You fucking idiot.’ And so he let him rant, his own anger fading as the king yelled himself into unconsciousness.


He felt the need to talk down about everyone, because only he was right. It was sickening. He could have told him, that the supply of the king didn’t reach everyone, and that it was he, Hazel, and their mother who served as the healers for this area, while the Leal’s shared their food. True, they asked for labor in return, but it was food in a time of need. It was more honest than Jory’s nonsense about love and loyalty.


When the king hit the ground, Demetrius and Hazel were in the doorway. “What did you do?” Hazel demanded as Demetri walked by and lifted the king up to put him back on the bed. It was clear that the king was a bit heavy for Demetri, but he didn’t require help. Mitchell wouldn’t have given it anyway. Demetri fixed Mitchell with a look when he remained defiantly silent.


“Well?”


“He’s an idiot.” Mitchell said. “I just told him that and he exploded. Seems to think all of his nobles are shit, that his military is full of greedy rapists, and he’s the only person in the world who keeps things in order. We should let him die.” With that statement, Mitchell turned and walked out, leaving both Demetri and Hazel quite surprised. Mitchell was harsh when he wanted to be, but the two always forgot that part of him.


Hazel shook her head and walked further into the room. Demetri noted, “It’ll be hard to change such a mindset.”


Hazel made no comment. She said only, “Please fetch me a few salves, bandages, and a needle and thread,” from the amount of blood, she suspected she needed re-knit a wound.


Demetri didn’t argue. He went to retrieve the things asked for, and allowed Hazel to work on the king. She’d not leave someone to die. She’d been honest about that. Vyran could have showed up on her doorstep and she would have treated him just the same, her respect for life not diminished at all. Mitchell’s conclusions did plague her a bit in the silence of her work, though.

 

[Wiggle]

"He's right you know." A voice said, echoing through Jory's mind. "You are kind of an idiot, and naive, and impulsive, and pathetic, and immature."


Suddenly a light appeared in the darkness, and a humanoid figure began to show in the light. As the light grew bigger, the figure grew larger, and larger until a man stood before him. His armor was made from the purest gold and light seemed to dance off of it's reflective surfaces, and engraved on the chestplate was a sun. The man crossed his arms and raised a fiery eyebrow at him, his hair was made of fire, and his eyes were a golden color. His face was young, and he was well built and extremely attractive, and a golden morningstar swung from his hip. Suh'ne The Dawn God was his name. He sighed and looked over Jory and shook his head.


"Look at you, boy." He said, a look of disappointment on his face. "A trueborn of the Barras, and the rightful King, yet you lay in your own blood in a tavern, ran by people who don't believe in me. You know why I did this to you, right?" He asked, and continued on without an answer. "Because you're not ready, and you don't understand why you're not fit for the Throne.....yet. You haven't been refined, and now it's your turn."


Suh'ne smiled at Jory and shrugged his shoulders at him, and laughed, a loud booming sound.


"Your Uncle, Lord Gregor has been praying for you." He said. "He prays that you're still alive, because he's itching to get him hands on Vyran. Oh, and Hazel, the witch girl. She'll go with you, regardless of what her brother's say. As for the Leal's, well, they're cowards and will bend the knee to whomever is in power, which will be you if you play your cards right."


Suh'ne approached Jory, and he could almost feel the intense heat from the Dawn God.


"I'll do you a solid too, to speed you on your way." He said. "The witch girl, while good at what she does, can't speed the healing powers of the herbs she uses. So I'll help you out."


Suh'ne poked Jory in the stomach, and gave him a smile before disappearing.





Jory opened his eyes and grabbed Hazel's hand, stopping her from piercing his skin. He sat up and reached down to examine his wound, but all that was there was a scar. Jory looked up and over at Hazel, his eyes wide in wonder.


"I saw him." He said.


When Hazel gave the King a confused look, Jory released her hand and looked down at his bloody shirt.


"Suh'ne, The Dawn God." He said. "I saw him."