Tales From The Emerald Isles: Hope Chest

9

Marric looked about the camp. Ash was tied to a post, beaten and blooded, lifeless. This was not how he wanted it to be. He saw Farrah, the daughter of his ally, Caelen, the king of Hylaen was also tied to a post. The side of her face was swollen where he had hit her earlier. The men dispersed around the lands just inside the border of Larutte. They made sure to remain outside the visibility of the castle. These men were the soldiers of his father's sworn enemy, the Crazed King Caelen. Not even Ash knew that truth. But, there was a lot that Ash didn't know.

Alric purposely kept him in the dark on many of his secrets. Marric had only learned this particular secret, several years into his apprenticeship with the Clerics. He had always learned rather quickly, and he liked the praise that came along with his good work. So much so that he often took any opportunity to to research for his teachers and assist them on their projects. It was his love of stories that led him, in his spare time to look into the histories for some lesser known stories of the Laruttean people.

He found tales of the long forgotten Rose Knight, who would woo women with wondrous tales of wild whimsy as he brandished long stem roses in great flourishes to recount his exploits. Exploits, which as it turned out, never actually happened. He then found the story of the Rose Knight's stoning by the villages' women, and the requisition of his lands by Alric's great great grandfather Tiburon. The knight's real name as it were, was Reginald Rosett. After the stonning Marric ceased to be amused by Rosett's tale.

However, this story led him to the legends of the royal families, and as he was also curious about what king Tiburon did with the Rose Knight's land. He read about that as well, and how it was given as a gift to those gifted in the use of magic. Those lands and what was later built upon it would become the tower of Cleric's. Home to the Order. He then, followed the family line back to the earliest king of Laurette. It was about six generations back, that he found the first king, a warrior priest of sorts, dedicated to the gods and their people, he, who rose up against an oppressive king and he, who eventually donned that mantle himself.

He was Waylen Laruttenz, the first king of Larutte. Marric also found mention of a strange figure as he read about King Waylen's exploits. A young boy who appeared out of no where; who knew of the trees and their secret worlds. He also seemed to possess intimate details about things that had happened long before he should know anything about. There was even an account where Waylen mentions the boy's ability to know in certain circumstances, what would come to be.

He had eyes the color of the glen in spring time, bright and full of life, but also age. Wrote Waylen, or at least Marric thought it was Waylen who wrote it. There was no real way for him to verify that on his own. His eyes, he wrote, held an agedness well beyond his physical appearance.

He often frustrated Waylen, as he spoke in riddles and rhymes, and, often with a hint of condescension. Waylen referred to him as Balen. Marric found mention of another boy with eyes the color of emeralds pierced by the sun, and he counseled prince Sephen against his love of gold. Sephen, in his journal recounted the story told to him by Toben. That was the boy's name this time. It was about a king they called Midas, a king from a far away land. He begged the gods for more gold than any man should ever rightly need. And so finally the gods granted him his wish; everything he touched turned to gold. However, there was one thing that this king loved more than gold. His daughter Zoe. He gave her gold earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. He erected golden statues in honor of the gods, and in honor of the love he had for his daughter, but soon he realized that he could no longer hold her in his arms. He could no longer feel the warmth of her against him as he held her close. And so, they grew further and further apart. As time went on he became angry and resentful of his gift. He cursed the gods who, in their godly ways, did nothing to alleviate his pain. And so, one day Toben told Sephen as Midas' daughter was leaving, because she could no longer stand his anger, he mindlessly reached out to touch her hand; to pull her close to him; to give his daughter one last hug; he wrapped his arms around her and felt the warmth of her once more against him, until suddenly there was only the feeling of cold, soft metal. He opened his eyes to find that his daughter had been turned to stone. Not long after King Midas hung himself from a golden rope in a golden room, or so Toben told prince Sephen. Prince Sephen, then urged his father King Gregar to lower the taxes levied upon their people and assisted in expanding the farmland surrounding the castle.

For days Marric would come to this section of the archives until one day he came across the branch of the family tree that connected to Alric, Ash's father. His journals had not yet been transcribed for this volume, but there was a branch of the tree that had been crossed out. There were two lines connecting to two different woman's names. One line connected to Madeline and from her to Ash. That was what Marric had expected. But, there was another line, that he had not expected and that line connected to another woman's name. It was crossed out hard. Her name was connected to a violent mark on the page. He examined the woman's name more closely, it was longer than the line struck through it, and he could make out some of the letters. He could see the top of the first letter, maybe it was a J or an I. There was a P in the middle, perhaps an H next to it, and clearly there was an E at the end. There were other letters in between those that he could not make out, because they were covered completely. He knew of no names that began with I that also had a PH in the middle or an E at the end. The only other name close enough was Stephanie, but the first letter was not an S, so it had to be a J. Josephine was the only name he could come up with that had the letters he could read and also fit the length of the covered name. His mother's name was Josephine.

He had memories of King Alric playing with him as a baby, but memories at that age are never reliable. He also remembered the king often being near his mother when he was a child, until one day he wasn't. That was about the time his mother began to become sad and distant, well despondent was more like it, Marric thought to himself. When Marric was about two or three, he remembered a grand ceremony to celebrate the wedding of King Alric and Queen Madeline, who bore him a child very shortly after the ceremony. Marric looked closer at the page. He could almost see the two points of an M as the name connected to the crossed out woman's name. Marric remembered the feeling of heat welling up within him in that moment. He remembered a spell of removal, he had no idea if it would remove ink specifically or the entire contents of the page, but he maintained his focus on just the lines he wanted removed. He did not allow his mind to wander. He fixated on each singular line covering the child's name on the tree. One line shook and slipped itself away, then another, and another, the M became more clear, then another line, and then the tops of two Rs became visible. The process continued until the name Marric was visible on the page. He remembered the feeling of sudden understanding shattering his mind. It all made sense now. Why Alric had tried to keep him from Ash as they were children. Why he had been selected for the Order of Clerics. Why he had been hidden away, and his mother alienated. She had loved this man, given him a child, and he cast her aside like a used up old mare in place of someone more pleasing, more royal. He remembered the sensation of sweating upon this realization. He was beyond warm. He felt as if his body were ablaze with anger. He felt that same way now.

He needed the heart of the dragon locked within that chest. That heart would allow him to take the castle without needing to harm any of the citizens of Larutte. There is power in blood. This is how magic moves through generations. The dragon's heart is the engine of that power. If he could perform the ritual of Sanguis Transferrium at the apex of the full moon, he would have the power he needed to put all the citizens of Larutte asleep, while the troops on loan from King Caelen took key positions in the town and within the castle. He knew how to influence the minds of others, but it took massive focus and if used to force someone to do something against their will it took significantly more energy than to nearly suggest a more appealing thought already within their mind. If the troops failed to follow orders, with the dragon's heart he could make them.

With everyone occupied, and Ash bound and out of the way, he could confront the man who ruined his life. He could kill him slowly, the way he slowly killed his mother, and ruined his life. He had promised Caelen the lands of Larutte as recompense for his assistance, but he knew that Ash would never allow that. He knew Ash would make a good king, a far better one than Alric every was. He had hoped to take Ash off the board, sending him away after he returned with the dragon's heart. And return he did, but without the heart. Ash was different upon his return. He was more suspicious, less complaint. Ash would not be convinced to leave. The few men Marric had operating within the castle and in the town as spies told him of Ash's meetings with a woman of the Emerald Sisters. Fine then, Marric thought. If he wants to be stubborn, then I will just have to give him a better reason to comply. He immediately ordered her captured. When his men found her, she was guarding a beautiful chest made of a darkly lacquered Yew wood. And so they took both her and the chest back to their camp.