CYAN | ONC 2022

01

The clinking of glasses followed by laughter were loud to his ears. It was too bright in here too with white, satin-like banners decorating the ceilings to compliment light fixtures of grand proportions and the shiny, marbled floors with cream and brown highlights reflecting the lightings. Standing in a group of those with bright eyes and large smiles all the while listening half-heartedly to their latest conquest up north or an update on their businesses, he could only dream of leaving the large hall and venture outside where the moon called for him tonight.

A touch on his upper right arm had his grip on his glass of a peculiar tasting wine, dyed in purple akin to hyacinths, tightening. He eyed the woman next to him, her gaze landed on him for a second before she tilted her head just slightly at the direction of the men before them. Her nails dug through his clothes in a vice grip when he raised an eyebrow.

"Aryzath," a man said, a grin on his face showing off his teeth that were sharp at their ends. "You haven't said a word since we started talking."

He stared at the creature before him. In his presence, the man was wearing fabric made out of silk that curled over his curves and highlighted a protruded stomach. The roundness didn't stop there as he had a bald head on those big proportions and two horns were etched outwards from it, the ends twisting into a semi-circle resembling of an old, dying branch. Even more offensively, the colours of his clothes were of clashing cyan and a yellow that reminded him of lemons making him almost wince whenever he looked at him.

What an eyesore.

A sharp pain echoing from his arm had the corners of his lips lifted up into a forced smile. Aryzath took a step to the side, dislodging his sister's grip on him. Her claws needed trimming. "I do not see a reason for me to talk about these things," he said, earning a hushed silence from the group. "After all, talks about how to tackle a new land or which mistress you'd like to bed next are below me."

"Aryzath!" Her gold eyes were narrowed, warning clear in them. But he heeded no mind to his sibling. "I'm sorry, he seems to be in a bad mood tonight."

"I—I see," the man said, his eyes wide and had pupils narrowing into slits. "I didn't realise I had crossed a line, Ary—"

"And you should stop referring to me so familiarly," Aryzath said, taking a step back this time. "I'm not your friend nor will I be your acquaintance."

It was almost amusing at how pale the group of creatures had become. "Yes, I'm sorry, Your Royal Highness," the man said, ducking his head and breaking eye contact with him.

That made him smile wider.

"Aryzath," his sister said. There was a lecture coming, he was sure of it but he had wasted enough time tonight in her birthday banquet full of rotten old men and women who had nothing better to do but to gossip. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of her face, eliciting a sigh from her. "I should've expected this."

"Sorry, Sister," he said, though from the way she glared at him, it was clear his faux remorse hadn't been successfully communicated. Pity but not something to worry about. He would just gift her a diamond from the jeweller later. "I must be going now. Enjoy your party."

"It's a banquet, Ary," she said, huffing.

Rolling his eyes, he nodded at the men in the group and turned around, tossing his head back to swallow the rest of his wine before handing the empty glass to a nearby servant. Even with attention on him, he kept his gaze straight at the opened doors of the hall.

The murmurs and music faded with each step he took out of this stuffy place. He fingered his collar, hesitating just for a moment before he yanked at the clasp and broke apart the gold hinges to release a few buttons of his shirt halfway down his chest. Taking down his cloak, he scrunched it into a ball and shoved it underneath his left arm, keeping his strides purposeful and fast.

When the lighting that had coloured him in whites became nothing more than soft yellow-orange flickers at the hallway, he sighed. In front of him, there were large windows reaching from the ceiling to an inch above the floor, giving him a view of the gardens. Amongst the greens that were harbouring dark blue shadows and a gentle wash of moonlight, past the branching trees, there was a small pathway that would lead him out of the castle grounds undetected.

For the first time tonight, excitement sparked from the depths of his chest and covered every inch of him. Nothing ever brought him this much happiness than being able to go out there and explore the lands he had yet to step into.

Drache was a country he had grown up in and one he would need to lead one day once his father had decided he was ready to be a king. People expected him to behave with interest in the topics of wars and security of their nation, and giddiness at the thoughts of ravaging into other smaller nations of Exir. Dragonkind was the strongest and most powerful creature besides the Vampyr and thus he would need to excel in everything politics and show an appetite to expand his kingdom. Those were what was sowed into him up until now at the tender age of two thousand years old.

But beyond those idealisms, what he wanted most out of anything was to explore.

Beyond the golden gates of Drache held creatures of many kinds — some he had never seen before. Pixies, Witches and alike; they fascinated him.

Had they also learned about his people, his kind, as he once learned about theirs?

That was much more intriguing to him than how to strategise in infiltrating a neighbouring enemy kingdom or... to serve Her Majesty in Heland. He thinned his lips at the thought of her, the creature known as the Sire that currently was the ultimate ruler of all of Exir, where nations would need to report to her on every matter.

It was a structural hierarchy that he couldn't even begin to understand.

Why must there be a king at all if they were to, at the end of the day, be Sire's puppet?

Ridiculous.

When the greens of the large garden greeted him followed by the blowing of wind that smelt of the sweetest flowers growing in here, he smiled. Thoughts of stuffy banquets and his sister's disapproving looks were now forgotten. Aryzath wandered down the familiar stoned pathway leading to an apple tree his mother had planted a hundred years ago. But that was not where he was headed to tonight.

He tilted his head up to the sky and spotted the full moon he had been desperately wanting to see. With the guidance of her light penetrating through and between the jagged spaces of leaves, he ventured off from the path and into the dark space between the trees. It was peculiar — the lack of fences or barriers past a certain point in this dense forest but he wouldn't question it now.

Ah, there it was, that tiny space between the barks that would introduce him to a rocky climb upwards to a small hill where he would then need to jump across a ledge to the other side.

And then he was off, walking past a mark he had placed, a simple cross on a tree's bark as a way to remind him that he was going the right way, and into deeper still of the green woods.

Maybe this time, he would finally venture into a new land and meet a new creature.