The Witch's Cursed Daughter

105. Fallout

With Voster gone, Julian and Romile remained fixed in place, watching the sun through the gate. It wasn't until a familiar voice called out to them that they remembered their environment.

"Your Imperial Highness, Sir Fassie," Kallin Ro Beras called as he rushed towards them. His usually spotless uniform, a combination of tears, stains, and dust.

"Kallin, how come you don't join the fight?" Romile taunted the steward as he panted to a halt by their side.

With a glare gleaming in his eye, Kallin replied, "Violence is not my area of expertise, Sir Guard; my intelligence is my greatest asset, not my skill with a sword,"

"You are right," Julian laughed heartily. Shooting a knowing look at the rusty-haired Guard, grinning cheekily, he warned, "Romile, stop teasing him."

"Thank you, Your Imperial Highness," Kallin acknowledged. "How is Her Ladyship?"

Casting a look to her face, eyes closed and unmoving, he answered, "Unconscious, but she only seems to be sleeping."

"I'm sure Imperial Mage Voster will be able to awaken her," the steward offered, unaware of the events which had taken place. Conscious of the lack of response, Kallin slowly asked, "Did I say something wrong, Your Imperial Highness?"

Sighing deeply, Julian felt the pleasure of company slip away from him. Turning his head back in the direction of the gateway, he mumbled, "Voster left. I asked too much of him and created a rift between us."

"When will he return?"

"When he wants to," the prince brushed over the topic, unsure of how to answer when he himself did not know. "How are the people you guided from the palace? I watched you lead a group of survivors, very heroic."

"Your Imperial Highness, while I appreciate your praise, I only did what I could to save the lives of those who should not have been involved in the first place," Kallin stated, not a glimmer of a lie behind his eyes.

Pleased by his forthright nature, Julia nodded, "Well, you have my thanks for the courageous rescue of your colleagues and Counsellor Fenston Dal Geart."

The steward did not respond because he knew Julian's meaning. The Counsellor was an evil man; he was partly to blame for the injustices thrust upon the people of Waldemyre under the reign of Emperor Yaalon. However, Kallin could not let an unarmed man die during a battle he was not fighting. Lost in thought, the group travelled in the direction of the town in silence until Kallin burst with excitement.

"Oh, Your Imperial Highness, I almost forgot," he exclaimed.

"What is it?"

"His Imperial Majesty has met his end."

The shock of Kallin's revelation sent Julian's mind blank; having been occupied with Illea and the loss of Wen, Julian's mind had already decided that he was the last member of the imperial family. The feeling of Evianna stirring slightly in his arms, brought the prince back to attention. Following the steward, he was led to the spot where Evianna had once fallen from the bridge outside the Wall, landing in Soul Vine. However, this time when Julian leaned over the parapet, conscious of not allowing any part of Evianna's frame to make contact with the cold stone, a familiar sight soaked into his vision. In the spot he had once spent hours locked within his dreams as he screamed for Evianna's life, the Emperor lay, wrapped in blue-ish vines. The scene was grotesque, not as peaceful as it had seemed the last time; perhaps it was because there was also a sword buried in the old man's chest as if testing whether or not he was truly there and truly dead.

With no words left to say, Julian turned away from his father's corpse, and a weight released itself from somewhere deep inside him. Romile placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, but Julian felt as if he were flying instead of it bringing him down. They had accomplished everything. With the sacrifice of so many, his men had almost entirely perished, Wen had saved their lives while sacrificing his own, Voster had walked away without glancing back, and the imperial family was gone. While stepping back in the direction of Warrick Palace, Julian's feet would not listen to him. He waited in position as a premonition worked its way through his mind, like a snake licking at his thoughts.

Suddenly, he turned to Romile, whose hair had turned a brilliant, fiery red in the early daylight, "The empress dowager, she's still alive."

In response to Julian's realisation, Romile sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as if he were in pain. "She won't venture from her palace anyway. Let's focus on the clean-up and reconstruction before talking to her," he suggested, the thought of the empress dowager making his head hurt.

"You're right," Julian nodded, pushing the growing sensation of dread that had settled in his stomach into a pit out of reach.

Having looked at the remainder of Warrick Palace, Romile and Julian looked at each other and laughed. The building was inhabitable. Immediately their eyes lit up; there was only one place they wished to go, to rest and regroup. Gently passing, Evianna to Romile, Julian disappeared through a small door built into the Wall; Romile found a crooked boulder to rest on while he waited. Finally, seeing Julian's shadow cast far out behind him as he emerged on top of the colossal Wall, gazing out at his people and the damage done, first by his father and then himself, his heart jittered with guilt and grief.