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Mask of Sorrow
by Alice Montrose
Arc One - Newfound Love
Introduction
What does it take for your life to change radically? Just a tip of the balance, and all you ever held true can be swept away and replaced by a desolate calm. Just one throw of the dice, and you are forced into an entirely new existence without even having asked for it. The sand of the hourglass still flows, but will it bury you underneath its tremendous weight or help you break free?
My home was taken away from me, my family ruthlessly slaughtered. I have watched my parents being murdered by people they trusted, my sister falling from a high balcony taking two of her pursuers with her. I have watched the white marble of the corridors turn dark red from caked blood, and I have waited to follow my family into the grave.
Alas, it was not to be. For even as I struggled they were dragging me away. Faithful friends, trying to save the last of my family and the long-gone glory of ages past. Servants carrying me away to safety and then on a ship, asking that I would one day return to claim what was mine. I was too numb to care, until reality struck me on the eve of the third day at sea; and then I mourned for what was lost, and swore I would never make the mistake to trust again.
I was angry with my friends though they meant well and followed me in exile. Angry at my family for having left me like they had, at their murderers and at those who had craved the destruction of my homeland. I swore to destroy them as they had destroyed me.
Ten years have gone since then, and I have returned home to make my country greater than it has been before. For how was I to know back then about the help I would receive, about the forgotten friends I would regain, and above all about the one person that would win my heart? How could I have expected to find all this in exile, and still have him at my side when I returned home?
I am King Demian of Callas, and this is the story of my life in Iilis, and later during the war with my hated enemy, Queen Spectralia of Seisha. This is the story of my new life, and my new hope. And also, of my love for a most wonderful man who has changed me beyond words, the story of his victory over his fears and his decision to save us all.
Part One
The ship arrived in Moreea on a gloomy autumn afternoon, carrying me, my two friends Franco and Justin, as well as a couple of other wealthy refugees from Callas. My father, having somehow anticipated the disastrous result of the war between Callas and Seisha, had shipped half the treasury to be kept safely by his friend and ally King Thalos of Iilis, so at least we were not arriving as poor exiles in disgrace. Still, we were expecting no warm welcome in this southern land, in spite of Iiliani hospitality being well renown.
Still, our reception was far more pleasant then we had expected. In spite of the horrid weather and almost-rain that would have kept most people in-doors, expecting us was none other than The Prince Heir of Iilis and a small train of noblemen from Court.
I had met King Thalos' second son, Alexander, about ten years before; he had come to visit my family with an Iiliani delegation and we had spent a summer of follies and adventure together. Since then, word had come that he had become heir to the throne, although under what circumstances I did not know.
Now he was expecting us, the crazy 11-year-old I had known barely recognizable in the serious young man with dark blonde hair and blue-green eyes who studied us all from the back of his horse before smiling and dismounting.
"Demian, my friend," he said opening his arms in greeting, "it is nice to see you again after all this time, even if it is under such dire circumstances."
I nodded and accepted his swift embrace, hoping that grief had wiped away any tears I might have shed at any mention of my family.
Our travel to the palace was short and spent mostly in silence; dark thoughts seemed to suit the rainy weather. I had been told that Iilis was an exotically beautiful land, but the grey sky had turned the capital into a grim city that day.
The palace was not much different from the one in Minois on the outside, and perhaps a little more lavish on the inside. Southern lands were like that, placing more importance on aspect than on essence, although of them Iilis was the one most open to other cultures. King Thalos' rule was one of change and renewal, of changing age-old customs that had trapped his land in the past while the world was evolving. In accordance, he had kept his harem but had also married a woman from the faraway north. His younger son seemed to have inherited some features from both parents; his build was that of Iiliani men but his fairer features and eyes must have come from his foreign mother.
Our small party was led toward the throne hall, where we were received with all the pomp reserved to foreign dignitaries. The king, whom I had also met a few years before, looked a bit older but still sharp. The official ceremony was short but meaningful, and we received assurances that Iilis would offer us all the help it could give against our common enemy. There was already talk of a campaign to reconquer Callas and defeat Seisha, but I had yet no idea how true these rumours were.
The private meeting I had with the king and Alexander proved to me it was all true. The king received me in private a few minutes after the festivities in the main hall were over, and insisted on shaking my hand.
"I am sorry about your father," he told me, a hint of emotion in his usually serious voice. "Had we only known that queen Spectralia was planning to attack you beforehand... but we'll get you your country back yet." Next to him, Alexander nodded solemnly.
"Thank you for granting me and my countrymen your hospitality, your majesty," I replied with a polite nod. "All I can do is wish is that this had not happened, and that my visit would have been under more pleasant circumstances. And I will do whatever I can to help you organize this army I keep hearing about"
"Your presence here is welcome, as is your desire to get involved," the king assured me. "I trust that, despite all, your stay will be a pleasant one. My son Alexander has been most anxious to see you again. I hope you two will become good friends. Alexander," he said, turning to his son, "you shall show Prince Demian to his rooms now, and make sure he has anything he wishes for."
"Yes father," the Iiliani prince answered and motioned for me to follow him, sharing an amused smirk with me when we were out of the king's sight.
It wasn't long before I grew accustomed to Court life in Moreea. It was not that different from my life as Prince of Callas, only perhaps a little more varied because of the exotic views I was presented with each day. But the banquets, the diners, the diplomats were all there. People were fare more careless than in Callas, and friends were easily made. The detail I was not Iiliani was just another fact in a row to them.
Two things puzzled me, though.
The first was that Prince Alexander was heir to the throne, in spite of the fact he was King Thalos' second born and that his brother still lived. However, I knew very little about Prince Andrys, and all of those facts I had found out involuntarily. Apparently, the older prince fancied himself as some kind of artist, although nobody had seen his works thus far.
My friend Eloise, true to her training as a diplomat, had somehow discovered the fact that, following a certain accident eight years ago, Andrys had lived almost secluded from the world. People had been reluctant to say more about that 'accident', for fear of the king's wrath. It seemed to be common knowledge that King Thalos and Prince Alexander would become excessively protective when Andrys was concerned. As for the man himself, he was rarely seen about the palace grounds although it was a certain fact he still lived there.
Naturally, I wanted to ask Alexander about it. However, one evening I was witness to an incident that made me realize it would not be a very good idea. A merchant from across the seas, whom it was said had last come to Iilis ten years ago, and whom was in great favour with the king, had asked Alexander about his brother's health during a diner King Thalos was not attending (fortunately, people had said afterwards). At this, Alexander had turned pale, and in a voice so cold for his usual self told the man that, unless he wanted to be one head shorter, he should mind his own business, and he had left the hall soon after. The whole incident ensued in a series of gossip around the nobles and servants of the palace, ended promptly by the king himself, who said Prince Andrys was well and much too absorbed in his art to care about anything else at the moment. The merchant was forgiven, apparently after Andrys himself had spoken to his father – although I was not entirely sure how he could have found out about it, if he never left his rooms.
All this secrecy surrounding the older prince would have been enough to occupy my mind for a while, had there not been another thing that bothered me even more.
Soon after I had received my commission in the Army and I could properly attend Court events, I noticed someone was spying on me. Well, not me specifically, but rather the whole congregation I was part of. This mysterious person, who at first had been a shadow hiding behind a panel or a curtain, gradually began to transform into a young man, as his curiosity apparently grew. I would only see flashes of him during feasts, usually in the evening when he could use darkness to his advantage.
Several times, I caught glimpses of long yellow hair, which led me to believe the youth was either as foreign as I was, or of foreign background, for the Iiliani all had darker skin and features. As winter came and advanced, though, my sightings of this strange observer grew rarer, until one whole month passed without seeing him.
Franco had laughed at my confessions, and Eloise muttered silently that it could have been a ghost, because I thought I had seen white clothing. Alexander had been rather shocked, and had had the palace searched, but had found nothing. Finally, we blamed it all on my imagination, and I began to forget all about the blond ghost.
However, things did not stay that way for long. One evening in late winter, during one of those tedious affairs banquets can be, I accidentally noticed movement behind a curtain in an almost-dark corner of the hall. Thinking it might be some kind of spy or assassin, I made it my business to pay attention to the shadows without being too obvious about it. And it was not long before the shadows shifted and I saw the blond hair again, and flashes of white skin where the lamplight penetrated the darkness. My hand had tightened on my knife – it was doubtlessly my old acquaintance again.
Only this time, I had not been the only one to notice him. Seeing that he had raised a hand in greeting, my eyes quickly flew across the room to see Alexander, of all people, discretely waving his way. When my eyes returned on the blond, however, he was no longer looking at the prince but rather at me. I was fixed in my chair by a pair of icy blue eyes, which seemed to study me briefly before their owner stepped back into the shadows, and disappeared completely.
Uncertain of what had just happened, I excused myself from my table and went outside to settle my thoughts. I had no doubts it was the same man I had seen before, or that, whoever this youth was, Alexander knew him.
I took the path around the palace walls, my mind swarming with questions and possible answers. If he was not a spy why would he keep into the shadows? Exactly how much did my Iiliani friend know and did not wish to reveal? Was it possible the blond was an assassin from Seisha, sent to kill me? If so, when would he act and did he have King Thalos' approval?
By the time I had almost circled the palace grounds half an hour had passed, and I was also aware someone was following me. My mystery man, I thought and kept walking, not willing to make him aware I had felt his presence.
He was almost deadly quiet; if not for some faint rustle of rubble on the path I would have not been able to hear him. I went around the corner and made my way back toward the porch that opened outside the banquet hall, my mind set on solving this problem once and for all. I plastered myself to a tree, ready to leap at the right moment.
Soon, my shadow appeared from behind the corner, dressed in flowing robes, appearing lavender in the faint light. It was unusual for a spy to wear something like this – not only did they make one visible, but they hindered one's movements as well. Then who was this man?
One careful step, then another. I jumped at the figure, tightening my arms around the white-wrapped body from behind.
My captive trashed around wildly trying to escape, but I held on tight. Finally he stilled, so I relaxed his hold a little. It was enough to receive an elbow in my stomach and make me lose my grip. The man pulled away as if burned and spun around to face this sudden adversary. But he had stepped in the light coming from one of the palace windows, which exposed him to my gaze.
Why, he was younger than I had thought! His features were even, and he possessed a sort of beauty that had me entranced by the time I managed to take in the whole of him. He was lean and at least two hand-spans shorter than I, but in spite of the lack of bulky muscles there was noting that I could call feminine in his build. There was also a vaguely familiar air about him, which I could not place.
Pale eyes fixed me in terror behind a wild fall of hair, as the youth breathed heavily. As I took one step forward he drew back, wrapping his arms around himself protectively. It was genuine fear in his eyes, mixed with a sort of fascination that prevented him to move further than a few steps. He looked so innocent, that my previous suspicions about him flew away instantly. He was no assassin or spy, but merely a young man too shy to socialize with other people. However, I could not figure out his position.
"What is your name?" I asked, causing the eyes to focus on me. The youth drew back a step, his body trembling visibly. I tried my best not to look menacing as I tried to approach him. "Why were you following me?" I asked softly. "Did anyone ask you to do so? Prince Alexander, perhaps?"
The pale eyes widened at the mention of Alexander's name, and before I knew it the young man leaped away. I didn't even realize what had happened before catching a glimpse of long robes disappearing around the corner.
I blinked several times, trying to decide what exactly had just happened. But just then, Franco called to me from the hall. I made my way back inside the palace, not quite sure what to make of this all.
I did not mention the event to anyone.
To Be Continued
