Forced Into Tyranny

16: Letters to the Gods

Rusthelm Town,
Dungeons Of The Den.

       "Seventh letter from the castle in four days for you, Hektor, you must have made an impression at the feast of the new moon." Kriton dropped the sealed vellum on the table in their dungeons and he sat across from his friend.
       As usual, Raven's hand nonchalantly pushed it to the growing stack she had been sending to him, despite his warning for her to keep him the fuck away from her regal affairs. Deaf, she certainly was. "If falling into a fox's trap is what I get for making an impression, I certainly am not fortunate."
       Kriton held back the laugh and nudged his head in the direction of the letter he'd brought from the sentinel in the passages. 
       "The seal is different. Take a look."
       Sluggishly, Raven raised his head over. Yes, it indeed was a different seal. Lyra's family crest was a golden sword, crossed with a silver rose. The regal seal, especially the king's, usually had the lion rampant as its main feature. This letter bore that seal. Raven took it fast and peeled it open, discovering that the king was summoning him and  Kriton to the castle.
       Again? He scoffed and threw it at Kriton. "We both made an impression, I surmise."
       "Now what?" Kriton asked after reading and folding. He tossed it with the six others that had all come from the same person. Unopened. "And are you just going to keep stacking those until you can build a paper boat to take you to the north?"
        Raven's mind brimmed with half a dozen cutting ripostes, but he restrained himself from uttering a single one.
       "We leave for the castle by dawn." He got up, walked to his wooden bed and lay down. "Goodnight, Kriton."
        Eyeing the heap of letters, Kriton randomly picked one up and ensured Raven was still facing the walls before decided he'd sneak into one. He gently tore it open to avoid any noise.
       And it read...
       Dear Raven,
My dearest Raven,
My heart is heavy with regret as I write this letter, for I know I have wronged you in more ways than one. When we first met, I felt an instant connection, as if we had known each other in a past life. Your wit and strength beguiled me, and I longed to be in your presence, to share with you my thoughts and feelings. But fear held me back, and I withheld the truth from you, for fear of losing your friendship and respect. In my cowardice, I have caused you pain, and for that I am deeply ashamed. I can only imagine the betrayal you must have felt when you learned of my untruth. The thought of it tears at my heart, for I truly value your friendship and would do anything to make amends. I realize now that my actions were thoughtless, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Without you, my days are empty and my thoughts filled with regret. I miss our stimulating conversations, your quick wit, arrogance, and your abundance of sharp retorts. I miss your marks on my skin. Write to me, Raven, when you eventually forgive me.

Love, Your Little Crow.

~~~

Thevalon Castle,
East Passages of the Forth Floor.

       Pillus exclaimed, "The wedding is in three days. You have triumphed!" He spotted Morgana emerging from Teresson's chambers, carrying a tray of partially consumed and mangled food. Morgana handed the tray to her maid and brushed off her own hands on her voluminous gown. "You had it in you to force the king's hands after all."
       "I am his mother," Morgana bragged and confidently made her way through the corridors towards the staircase that descended to the third floor. "You're already privy to this information, I imagine."
       Pillus was right beside her, descending the staircase alongside, his smile wry and knowing. "Anyways, my thralls have arrived."
       "How many of them?"
       "Six," Pillus confirmed. "But they won't go alone. I will personally travel to Rusthelm to handpick forty Freshbloods and fourteen Insiders to accompany the Champions." As they reached the third floor, they made their way towards Lyra's chambers. "This will greatly impact Weapons and Shadows, but I suspect you're already aware of that."
       "Oh, let the games be," Morgana replied dismissively. "Thevalon is as chaotic as the castle's kitchen, and yet you're concerned about earning five hundred drachmas?"
       They paused briefly and exchanged a meaningful glance before continuing. Pillus spoke up, "We need the money. Your extravagant lifestyle has depleted the kingdom's funds. Providing for the families of the guards who lost their lives in Asheville has taken a toll—"
       Interrupting him, Morgana asserted her authority, "Last I checked, Lord Bailiff Syagros, you were not in charge of the treasury. Handle the matters pertaining to your bestowed title by the late king." Standing in front of Lyra's door, she gave him a dismissive nod. "Gather the warrior slaves in the third throng hall. I'll join you and the king shortly."
       Pillus bowed respectfully and nodded, "Yes, Your Majesty," giving Morgana the opportunity to enter Lyra's chambers. Inside, she found Lyra engrossed in her work, her head lowered as she focused on writing with a vellum and quill in hand.
       From tirelessly painting the-gods-knew-what to scrupulously writing to the-gods-knew-whom, obstinacy knew the girl well.
       "The news of your regular and ungodly travels beyond the castle has reached me," the queen said, her expression grim. "Pray, do tell, where have you been sneaking off to at night?"
       "To Rusthelm," she replied without much thought, hands still scribbling her letter. "News of the mystery of a certain chambers in this corridor reached me," almost mimicking the Queen's voice, she continued, "Pray, do tell, why was I put in a space that is rumored to have a haunting history?"
       An ugly frown marred the queen's face, for she was unable to bask her irritation, "Do you question your queen?"
       The inkwell landed with a dull thud as Lyra turned halfway. "Does my queen question the future queen of Thevalon?" Her words dripped with foil. This woman would not force her into a box of fears, she would make sure of it.
       It was impossible, Morgana thought, with eyes wide as thimbles. Despite being stunned to the fiber of her being, she smiled. Not a defeated smile, no, but one of awareness. "Very well, then. You seem to be fitting in just fine. Meet me in the third throng hall in a minute, Future Queen of Thevalon."
       Lyra nodded, respect entering her demeanor once more. "Yes, yes, Your Majesty."
       As soon as her door closed the queen out, she sealed her seventh letter to Raven, hoping after reading this one, he'd grant her his ears.