Awen | Priestess of Light

Chapter 4: The Roseriff Kingdom

Some things are so unexpected
that no one is prepared for them.

~Leo Rosten

Lysander Forest Braveheart never thought he could set foot once again at the familiar cobalt roads of his hometown where vast emerald farmland and the modern city have a harmonious relationship to each other.

Lysander took a delicious time to absorbed the scenery while the wind welcomed him with the alluring aroma of butter, steaks, horse meats, and enticing different flavors that cleverly tickles innocent noses and painfully pinch poor stomachs. He missed these smells, the warm sunlight and the fresh air touching his bare face. He missed everything, everything before him.

For almost eight long years Lysander thought he forgot how the small and large bridges connect roads between canals that have been fashioned to accentuate the luxurious and shiny palace from the horizon. Also, add the noble houses built to showcase the different types of clan residing in this kingdom.

The Roseriff kingdom.

Lysander half-smiled at the sight, especially when he fixed his gaze at the palace. The crown and glory of this land, the symbol of the Roseriff empire for many decades now.

It was proudly standing high with elegance, with beautiful massive domes, and canopies crafted by skilled and talented craftsmen of this land, decorated with crimson and sapphire banners that gracefully floating in the air.

However, the sprawling stone towers were much more noticeable, or better say they were the main attractions. That for years has been constantly compared as Pandora's box of the current king, where he kept his deepest and unpleasant secrets away from the prying eyes of his citizens.

Lysander might be physically away for years, but he has his own ways to gather news mostly rumors about his homeland, unsurprisingly most of the rumors were about the towers.

Lysander admitted that the towers were indeed extraordinaire but he was dismay too because of the inappropriate expenditures just to tolerate the arrogance of the current king.

Especially now, that the towers had doubled from the last time Lysander had seen them.

"One more tower and the castle will collapse." He murmured to himself.

Though, he already expected it to happen. After all, that was the ambitious plans of the ruler of this kingdom.

King Claudius Elric Roseriff.

The current reigning king of Roseriff for three decades now.

Lysander can vividly recall the day when king Claudius proudly announced with arrogance his ambitions while he was looking at the vast city through the grand balcony of his palace.

He remembered the king chocolate piercing eyes, they were shining under the blazing sun, and his voice, deep but huge yet it had the commanding tone that can shake any man under their skin.

Let the Spartus empire have their huge borders, and let other kingdoms do what they please. Yet the Roseriff, my Roseriff kingdom will always stand from the rest in this heavenly land of Uria together with my gigantic towers that could touch the face of the gods.

Very true to his words, Lysander could felt the sky-high ego of the king in every standing towers from afar and currently, still counting.

Yet honestly, Lysander wasn't so surprised at the palace or the towers, but the thing that gave him a wide eyes was the market place.

He was a bit baffled when he emerged in the lively market place. It was loud and crowded this time with lots of people doing their own business. He dodged several people on his way, horse, carriage and more to strode further inside the market place.

That was new.

Considering the empire has a tight belt for foreigners and neighboring country in any specific matters. Yet the most dominant color was still the same with his, white.

However, Lysander has darker skin now, sun-baked, because of his endless training under the blazing sun for the past seven years, but his color didn't downgrade the natural charm in him. Most especially his ocean blue eyes. His mother's eyes.

In fact, it enhanced his already well-sculptured face, and the dangerous attractiveness with his towering height of more than seven feet that made him stand-out, getting more attention from the crowd, the majority from the ladies.

But Lysander as if oblivious at those pretty and flirtatious eyes, only ignore such attention or perhaps he already got used at them, considering it always happened.

Instead, his eyes darted at the stationed and occasional roving armored guards who threw questioning glances at him. Perhaps because of his color that was now different from them, yes. But he has a strong perception it has something to do with his brute and perfect body-shape of a warrior, that was obviously threatening anyone even without a sword.

Lysander was fully aware of his effect on other people. The reason why he was always cautious with his actions, also blamed it to his mentor at the Arena of Pheonicous that almost every day he got new reasons to kept his emotions, especially his anger at bay.

However, the scenes before him were to challenge his calm demeanor to its maximum limits. He even thought the leash for his emotions was rapidly losing.

Most of the scattered roving armored guards in each alleyway constantly shunned beggars away from the aristocrat and nobles, obviously favored to whom they could benefit, and the beggars themselves that grew numbers than the last time he was here.

Lysander had visited different countries in his journey across the great wide sea for the past 8 years yet this place never changed from the norms that kept circulating ever since he was a kid.

Frankly, watching the familiar sights were enough evidence he was literally back in his hometown after several long and challenging years, pursuing his dreams to become a well-known and influential champion despite his father strong disapproval.

Fortunately, Lysander was stubborn enough to live his glorious days, that finally starting to have colors in foreign countries. That was the plan though.

However, he wasn't back in his hometown about his achievements, no not yet, or to carry his seat in front of his clan, or to prove to his father that his judgments were right all along, and he was absolutely wrong about him. Or perhaps to see his most beloved mother. Though, half of him wanted to see her but no.

Lysander Forest Braveheart didn't come back for those reasons. Hence, he only got one.

Specifically, because of one letter, a simple yet intriguing letter he received from his best friend.

Prince Christopher Clyde Roseriff.

The firstborn prince and the heir of the throne. The only human being who encouraged him to pursue his dreams, at the same time the only arrogant best friend he left in this kingdom with a promise he kept for years.

Though the letter only has two words written in cursive on a piece of slightly crumpled paraphernalia about some odd news regarding a re-occurrence of a blood moon. Yet. For him, it was indeed strange. Considering the prince had an uproar pride to show off his wealth in any possible opportunity just like his father. But not entirely like his father.

Thus, the prince handwritten was indeed his. Lysander was undoubtfully sure about it.

However, Lysander never thought the content of the prince letter made him do the impossible, that in record time he miraculously had crossed the great wide sea for only two months instead of three, not even realizing that he survived several storm-tossed circumstances along the way home.

Yet even though he was safely back here, the uneasiness in his heart was still lingering hence, it was tormenting. The urge to see the prince was demanding. And the words on the letter were still haunting him.

"Save me."