Wanted... Alive

Chapter 1: Burning Questions

 The patrons of the tavern danced and cheered as a masked bard finished playing jubilant tunes of heroic actions which had long since passed.

"Sing another one!" A jovial, but somewhat drunk lumberjack called out.

"Yeah Dusk, play another song!" Another voice cheered.

The masked bard just chuckled and looked at the crowd. "As much as I would love to play another song for such a lovely audience that has gathered here tonight, but I must hit the road. The sun has set many an hour ago, and if I stay here too much longer, I fear that I may fall asleep where I stand." Dusk strummed a few strings on his lute, before seemingly vanishing with a gentle shimmer of light, leaving nothing but a pouch of coins with a small piece of paper with the words "Drinks on me" where he once stood.

Once he had slipped outside, the bard pulled a cloak out of his bag, putting it on to obscure himself as he navigated the streets of Forest Point, pulling his mask off once he was sure he was out of sight, revealing the face of a young nobleman named Silvester. "Enough fun for tonight, better get home before someone decides to check my room..." He muttered to himself, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He figured no one ever checked his room at night, otherwise he wouldn't have gotten away with this double life for so long. Only one other knew his secret, and Silvester trusted his older brother Eugene more than anyone else in the world.

As Silvester reached the town's Crown District, he made sure to stay in the shadows. The last thing he wanted was one of the town guards to question why he was out so late at night.

It was awfully bright for how late it was, and the smell of smoke hung heavy in the air.

"Was there a bonfire happening tonight that I forgot about?" Silvester asked himself, a little confused. He saw a large gathering of people in front of the home, chattering about something or other.

Then, Silvester saw the source of their conversation. Something that terrified him, something that shocked him to his core.

Silvester watched in horror as he saw his home engulfed in flames. He frantically glanced around the crowd, looking for the faces of anyone he knew.

A few faces were immediately clear to him. He saw his father, Lord Charles Covington, near the center of the crowd, standing next to Silvester's sisters Shenzi and Christina, and his younger brother Dimitrius.

But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find Eugene in the crowd.

Silvester rushed towards his family, panicked. "Wh-what's happening? Why is the house on fire?" He asked, face colored with distress. "Where is Eugene?"

However, his questions were met with a furious look from his father, his gruff voice asking a question of its own. "Where have you been?" Bitterness seeped from every word.

"Well- I-" Silvester stammered, trying to think of an excuse. He didn't want to lie to his father, but he knew that if knowledge of his actions got out, it would bring disdain to his family. But as Silvester pondered what to do, a doubt formed in his mind, a reason as to why his father was so bitter, a reason so solemn that Silvester did all he could to divert his mind from it.

Before Silvester had a chance to answer his father's question, a group of guards marched up, with two cloaked figures in tow.

"We have reason to believe that these two were behind the fire." One of the guards, Captain Trent, stated. "And they weren't working alone." He said, as one of the other guards pulled out a rolled up piece of paper, a note of some sort. "We found this letter on them."

The guard holding the paper handed it to my father, the disdain in his eyes burning just as bright as the fire in the home.

"Silvester." His father said, his voice sounding like a low growl, as the note slipped from his hands. Despite his rage, it was clear from the trembling in his hands that it was not the only emotion fighting for control of the nobleman.

"F-father, what is it?" Silvester asked, reaching to pick up the note. Before his hand touched it, however, Silvester froze, stunned by the words inscribed upon it.

It was a contract of some sort, for his own home to be set ablaze. But it wasn't the contents of the contract that caused Silvester distress. It was the signature at the bottom. It was his signature at the bottom.

"I-I don't understand!" Silvester stammered, confused by the note. "That isn't my-"

"Silence." The noble lord Covington commanded.

Silvester looked in fear, from one person to another. He saw a look of disgust on the face of his older sister Shenzi. The disdain on his father's face. The tears running down the burn-covered faces of his younger siblings.

"Wh-where is Eugene?" Silvester asked once more, fearing the worst.

Charles Covington glared at Silvester. "You should know." The outraged noble spat. "You arranged his death." A single tear fell from his eyes as he turned to the guards. "Take those two away, and take this... this... monster with them!" He demanded, pointing at Silvester.

Silvester was frozen in fear. "I d-didn't do it!" Silvester shouted. "I don't know who did, but I swear on my moth-"

"You don't have the right to call a woman as wonderful, as lovely as Kyra was your mother." Charles muttered. "You don't even have the right to call yourself a Covington, you conniving, brother-killing criminal!"

Tears streamed down Silvester's face as the guards approached him.

"Take him away." Lord Covington said, his voice void of remorse.

Silvester, in a panic, did one of the only things he was good at. He pulled the lute off his back, and played a mournful rhapsody, shimmering out of view as he had done so many times, and running like his life depended on it.

And this time, it did.