Chapter 4
1828 Words
Nathan
Myra always told him that he possessed a particular power given to him by the Gods, and he, as an eternal child, had always believed her. Growing up, he understood that every mother would say that to her child to make him feel special. Although Myra had never told Damien in retrospect when his brother woke up startled by some nightmare she didn’t want to talk about. Since he was a child, Myra had always told Nathan that he was a special person, destined to fulfill a great destiny and for Nathan had always been a dream.
Upon reflection, Myra had never reserved those words for her son or Doreon when he was entrusted to her care. But maybe she just said that because she knew that Nathan, the only legitimate son, would become king.
He shook his head.
Why was he filling his head with all the memories of the people he loved?
It’s the dream.
It’s that damn dream’s fault, it had upset his mind and his heart and made him sink into anguish.
They entered the council chamber. The dim sunlight of the morning penetrated from the windows, illuminating the silent room in which only the two masters were sitting around the long wooden table. The latter was positioned in the center of the room, under the mosaic built on the ceiling where the history of the world was drawn, or at least what had been passed down from generation to generation as a children’s story.
The two masters were talking to each other animatedly but quietly. Initially, they did not notice the prince, but when Doreon cleared his throat, they sprang to their feet, interrupting their heated argument.
The council room was illuminated by the sun rays that entered through the large window on the left; in front of the wooden table, the window faced the city.
“Your Highness” they said together, bowing their heads in reverence.
One of the two masters was holding a large book. Both wore a long green tunic, the color imprinted on each banner with the coat of arms of his family.
“Where is my father?” Nathan asked, putting his hand on the hilt of the sword tied to the belt, putting his back straight and legs apart.
“The king is not at his best, Your Highness,” said one of the two.
Nathan glared at them and approached the window. From there, he could see the whole city. The first lights of the morning made it even more beautiful by illuminating the path of fallen leaves on the streets that looked like red rivers winding between the buildings. He looked carefully through the glass when he saw smoke coming from the ends of the city, near the outer walls.
“What happened?” he asked the masters, continuing to look out the window. The black smoke rose between the buildings and dispersed in the sky.
“There have been upheavals in the lower town, Your Highness,” the master said, moving slowly. “The soldiers declare the presence of some animal inside the walls. A body has been found, and fires have been set.”
The masters approached him, standing behind him, he could feel their wheezing behind his back, they made him shiver. “Your Highness, this is a very rare situation. You should send someone trustworthy to control the situation. The people are agitated.”
Nathan looked back at the city and turned to them, pointing them with his icy gaze.
“I will go myself to check.” The masters burst their eyes.
“But, Your Highness... there are many disturbances. It is better if you send someone else. We are sure that Lord Doreon can...”
“I’ll take care of it.” Nathan looked right into the eyes of one of the two. “I would like you to visit the king and then tell me about his condition.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The masters bowed and left the room in a hurry, murmuring something between them.
Nathan followed them with his eyes until the door was closed.
“Some drunken brawl gone wrong?” Doreon asked.
“This is usually the case, but a dead man is involved. Anyway, it’s always better to check. Come on, let’s go”, Nathan went away from the window.
They left the fortress and went to the stables, where two guards were waiting for them, they had the task of taking them to the place where the body was found. They held the reins of their saddled steeds in their hands. They rode on their horses, following the guards as they explained the situation.
“The patrol guards said the fire started from nothing. The flames were big and very high, they could not put them out in any way. They destroyed some buildings before they could tame him”, one of the guards explained to him as soon as they started to move.
“To me, it seemed more than a few buildings.” Nathan had seen a good slice of the burnt western part.
“In fact, Sire, the guards reported that immediately after being extinguished, the fire broke out again... before their eyes,” the guard continued, doubtful.
“There was no one there?” Nathan couldn’t understand.
“The guards reported that the fire rekindled as... by magic”, the other guard added. Doreon burst into a thunderous laugh and threw his head back. His horse became nervous for a moment, but he was able to reassure him immediately, continuing to march towards the streets of the city.
“By magic?” Doreon laughed again. “Of course, and maybe the magic also belonged to some little elf, and some orcs are hidden outside the walls.”
Doreon laughed like a lunatic while the guards looked down at him.
They always did, despite being their commander, many did not appreciate Doreon and did not accept his orders. The king or Nathan often had to intervene, even though Doreon had not asked for help. He was good at repeating how he could do it alone, but he knew him too well: he did not feel comfortable in those moments.
Nathan looked at him writhing on the saddle, the guards stiffened and did not say a word for the rest of the journey. Doreon continued to laugh as if he was forcing himself to be natural. Still, the harshness of his shoulders said otherwise. Nathan was sure that he could sense the intolerance of his soldiers, despite the Prince himself having chosen Doreon as a trusted council member.
The streets slowly began to crowd, and people watched him in wonder as he passed by. It wasn’t Nathan’s habit to come to that poorest part of town. It was the custom of his wife, Sumon, to arrive at the orphanages to bring some food to the children. She was always looking outside for what she couldn’t have inside.
They finally came close to the walls. The guards had told him that the body had been found in one of the streets winding from one of the main squares.
They took off the saddles and left the horses to drink at the fountain. The street of the discovery was blocked on both the side of the square and the opposite. There were sentries on guard who did not let anyone pass without permission, despite the crowds of curious people present at each checkpoint to observe.
When Nathan got close to one of them, she bent her head slightly, then moved to the side and let it pass.
Nathan and Doreon approached one of the city’s healers, who was leaning over the body to observe him. The man was so focused that he didn’t hear him coming, so he stayed there a while, waiting before Doreon cleared his throat and the doctor jumped.
“Your grace, forgive me,” he made a weak bow, considering his age.
The old healer had long white hair and an equally candid and prolonged beard. He wore a light tunic with red embroidery in honor of the god, Sunhold, a band that started from the left shoulder and went down to the right side, going to tie with the belt always red.
“Don’t worry.” Nathan approached the dead body.
An old tramp. His back was against the wall, and his head was raised towards the sky, his eyes were still open, though empty. He had a huge hole in his chest, instead of his heart, thrown next to his body.
“What kind of beast doesn’t eat a prey just killed?” He asked himself, but he already knew the answer.
“Indeed, none, Your Grace,” the healer replied
“One could” Doreon looked at the body and then towards the road. “The man.”
“A man doesn’t have enough strength to tear his heart from his chest.” Nathan followed Doiron’s gaze. The mud marks on the ground let you see shoe prints on the leaves. “Which of you left these footprints?”
Nathan turned to the healer, who looked at the footprints.
Doreon watched the road, following the trail of footprints with his frowning forehead. Doreon was the brightest man Nathan had ever known, and although his choice to put him in charge of the royal army was a strategic move to appease some of the lords, Doreon had earned that position. No one was a strategist like him, no one could lead an army like him, and no one could solve mysteries like him. Doreon was a tracker, able to find any trace, a spy who knew how to make himself invisible to the eyes of all, and able to pull out information even to the most sealed mouths. His intuitions had been useful over and over again to the crown to avoid civil wars instigated by the bloodiest lords of Haefest.
“No one, sir. It didn’t rain last night, let alone this morning. The ground was dry, as were the shoes of anyone who approached the body,” the healer replied.
“They’re from outside. Nathan, look.” Doreon was a little further away, Nathan got up and followed him. “The woods at night is damp, and the soil is always wet, usually so much so that mud is created.”
The footprints came out of nowhere, approaching the body, and then another series led to the walls and the gate.
“Go get the horses, let’s see where it came from!” Nathan ordered the sentries.
“Where they came from,” Doreon corrected him.
Nathan looked at him doubtfully. Doreon pointed to another footprint. “There were two of them. This one looks smaller. Maybe a younger boy.”
“Or a woman,” said a female voice behind them. He knew that voice well.
- Writer
