The Shadows of the Four Realms [BOOK TWO]

CHAPTER 9 - Of a Mother

At the discreet end of the village gathering, Ralph leaned against a withered tree under the blazing sun, a hood over his head and listened intently to the people with hats on their heads, curved pipes in their hands and arses stuck to the high-backed chairs.

"...the new High King clearly favors the Autumn Realm. The only reason why we have a raise in taxes and that Realm thrives. Their Queen rules the Four Realms as if it was her who was chosen by the Throne." A snort followed.

Ralph exhaled, scratching a forefinger over his brow, tired of hearing the same version of the same rubbish yet in another village. Nova didn't let Una rule... she needed no one to let her do things. She alone had a powerful command after the horrific battle and Ralph was forever going to be indebted to her for opening her palace for Eleni and Amelia's safety, while he himself was in no position to protect them... Only Una could shelter the rarest Eclipse and her other Eclipses comrades in her grand palace, along with a supposed-enemy Summer Lord and a High King who was yet to see himself worthy of the gift he was bestowed with.

"The Autumn Queen is a sham," someone bellowed.

"The woman is clearly manipulating High King Nova to do her bidding. And His Most Royal Majesty doesn't care."

Ralph shook his head at them all. How was the sick mentality ever going to change?

From the vast distance, with crowd seated cross-legged on the red soil, their heads craned up to watch the makeshift dais, his eyes fixated on the bald villager with a heavy moustache who was speaking—

"We need to put on a stronger rebellious front in the face of the crown. Repeat after me," he raised his red staff in the air and gave a yell, "To Hell with the taxes!"

A loud echo boomed and Ralph smiled. Good.

"To Hell with the Arier heir! To hell with his bastard sister!"

His smile dropped. A murmur of agreement ricocheted across the moorland, bounced off the smooth boulders and hit him right in his guts.

Even if he helped them, they still clutched their olf beliefs tighter than they clutched their own kids in the face of danger. His fists clenched. The commoners were sheer ignorants and blatant fools.

Why did he even care? Why did a King or a Queen even care about the people who only blessed them when they gave them what they wanted and instantly cursed behind their backs if they made even one tiny human mistake? And what was his fault...

...that he had a sister. 

A woman was crying a few paces away, a child attached to her front, a man was raging on the other end, a group of young men, with spears in hands chanted the call against taxes—a communal of rebels-everywhere he looked, people cried out from every side, shouting over one another... restlessness and instability ruled his Summer Realm.

You are nothing without your crown, son.

Amidst the chaos, a Summer Councilor sat in the center of the dais of outcroppings and Ralph looked at his clothes, at his finest boots and tried not to think about his own plain attire of tunic and cloak. He knew the man, Harrec, High Councilor of the Summer Realm... who had the authority to comfort the people, to listen to their grievances, give them hope and solutions and yet there he was – an ankle leisurely crossed over another knee, eyes studying the pipe between his thumb and forefinger, smoke grazing his shadowed face and a lavish cavalier hat on his head.

He was letting them believe that their 'Arien heir' had given up on them and High King Nova was the one who was biased, that Queen Una influenced him. Queen Izora wanted to be in their good books by hook and crook. Cunning strategy, indeed.