Tale of Four

”Please wait. I will get Elias.” Inside the council room, Mabel looked at Ser Halls and the black figure. The figure nodded and moved as if they owned the palace, taking a seat opposite the head seat, crossing their legs and resting their hands atop the table. Mabel and Tristan shared a look, and Tristan understood. Going around the table, he watched the black figure, as the crimson iris behind it followed him, trying to understand what it was seeing.

Ser Halls took a place behind the figure and rested a hand on his sword. Whether it was to strike down the figure or protect it, Tristan couldn’t be sure. Instead, he did what he could and stared, waiting for the power within the black figure to move in an unnatural way, watching the face, disturbed by the swollen eyes. The crimson iris never left him, and after a minute of silence, the black figure opened its mouth.

”Child.” Lord Raven’s whispering voice called out. It was strange. Tristan shouldn’t have heard it from across the room, but it spread around, carried by the wind and whatever supernatural means Raven had available to him. Even still, he subconsciously leaned toward the man, ”You see, what shouldn’t be.” His lip quivered, and just as he went to speak, Raven did.

”Child.” He said again, ”Your existence is strange.” He never said more than he ever had to. It was unnerving. Hearing a voice from a man without a tongue. He wondered, for a brief moment, if the person really speaking to him was Lord Raven. Yet before that proud voice that came out as a breath, and the iris that radiated a red glow, he knew such a thought was meaningless.

’Is this the power of the Raven family? What is this? Annabell, do you have any idea?’ Tristan asked in his mind, and the bird replied.

’Ancient. I don’t understand, Tristan.’ Annabell said, with fear. A fear not for him or his well-being, but a fear of soemthing she could not truly understand, even when directly looking at it. It wasn’t like how she spoke about the crow. With him, Annabell understood why she couldn’t perceive what he was, and felt confident to see through his power when merged. Annabell opened her mind to him to let him try to understand how she felt.

All things before her would eventually reveal themselves, but what was before them now was different, all of it culminating in two questions she asked herself. How do you comprehend the incomprehensible? What truth is there to be found in an endless void?

His back went wet, hearing those thoughts. Annabell had seen everything, understood everything she looked at, forced the truth to be made clear by what she observed, yet the thing before her, the power that existed, did reveal itself, and it was incomprehensible.

”Child.” Lord Raven spoke a third time. The crimson iris flashed with a strange light. One that seemed to understand soemthing but not fully comprehend it, ”You are shrouded in fate.” Every instinct in Tristan screamed to run, to evade the being before him, soemthing that made no sense in the world. His breaths got lost, and all he could do was stare at the iris, knowing it was what he should address.

”What... do you mean?” Much like the fortune teller, he was terrified. Something he held in his heart, a secret he had locked away, suddenly seemed to be clearly laid out before the being.

”A future preordained. A life not your own, but also so.” Lord Raven said, his whispering tone equally confused, as if trying to decipher what he was saying himself, ”A choice decided by actions. A choice you may not make but will decide.” The iris shook, ”A pity.” The iris turned away from Tristan and stared ahead. Tristan wanted to speak, to ask what he meant, but could tell that everything the Lord of Last Hope wished to say was said.

Silence filled the hall once more. The black figure with stitched eyes remained unmoving, looking ahead as Lord Halls waited. After ten minutes of it, the doors opened, and Elias strolled in, looking at Ser Halls and the Black figure with annoyance. Following behind him was Lord Deacon, who stumbled in, the old Chancellor’s eyes tired with deep bags underneath. Elias moved to the head seat, and Lord Deacon, the one next to him. Mabel took her place behind him, a sword on her waist and Destria by her side.

Fiery wings sprouted from Elias’s back as he stared at the black figure with contempt. ”You must understand.” His voice was full of disgust, as was his gaze, finally looking at the people. Despite that, it wasn’t disgust for the butchery on the black figure’s face but what he represented: ”I must take precautions when dealing with a guest who decided to treat my home as their own.” The fiery wings snapped following his words, trying to threaten the man before him.

Tristan saw the crimson iris unaffected by the threat. ”Are you the King?” Lord Raven asked.

”His son. The king is not here right now.” Elias said, leaning forward on his fist. The air got hot, sucking the moisture out of it. Only Elias, lord Deacon and Mabel were unaffected by it, Elias not offering the same courtesy to Tristan. ”You don’t take part in the vote. You don’t involve yourself in politics. You don’t declare for the rightful king during a rebellion, and yet you send your servants to infiltrate my home as if you own it.”

Lord Raven didn’t speak instantly, the mutilated figure and crimson iris staring at him for a moment. ”I apologise. Janos acted under my orders. I am unable to come south. He must.” Lord Raven said, ”I have questions. You will answer.” Lord Raven’s iris looked to the left at Bryan Halls, who was sweating under his armour, unable to properly breathe. Looking down at Janos’ body, he could see it was struggling as well. ”Remove your power.”

”You do not order me.” Elias snapped. Silence hung for a moment. Tristan stared at the Iris, seeing it contemplate what to do next. After a moment, it stared at the wings on Elias’s back.

”Understood.” Lord Raven said, his voice unaffected by the heat of the room. The black figure raised a hand, and Tristan saw the same purple power spread across him and Ser Hall’s body. Elias jumped up, his wings growing with a fury as Mabel clutched her sword and Destria gave a faint growl. ”Do not be afraid.” Lord Raven said, with what could be considered reassurance, ”I do not wish for my voice or my people any more discomfort.”

”Your Highness.” Lord Deacon spoke up, his old voice unafraid of anything happening. Looking to the black figure, he couldn’t hide his repulsion at what had happened to the man, but said nothing, ”I assume we are talking directly to you, Lord Raven. By whatever means you have given to this man.” The figure nodded, ”We do not wish to make conflict with the north, but you must understand that this is not your homeland. You do not have the right to send uninvited envoys and demand audiences. Nor can you arbitrarily use your power before the Royal Family.”

Lord Raven was silent for a moment. ”I require answers. Janos has searched, and it was not enough. My duty requires them.” The iris flickered. ”Forgive me for my actions.” Lord Deacon nodded and turned to Elias, begging him to stand down. After a moment, Elias clicked his tongue and sat, the flames dying ever so slightly with him.

”Promise you shall leave, and I will give you answers.” The figure nodded, ”I must hear it.” Elias stared at the eyeless man.

”Janos shall leave once I have answers.” Elias nodded and smiled, leaning back in his chair.

”Then what is it you wish to know?” Elias asked, his finger bouncing on the armrest.

”This war is too vast. Why?” Lord Raven asked.

”Becuase traitors refuse to accept their king. Because a snake can’t accept that accidents happen.” Elias said with disdain. Tristan stepped back and looked at Elias in horror. He knew, everyone knew, the joust that killed Cillain was an accident, but the lack of regret or sorrow he should have felt was gone; rather it was used to fuel his hatred for Brandon even more. Looking at Mabel, she met Tristan’s gaze and shook her head, looking back at Janos.

Lord Raven was silent. ”Kinslayer. Accident or not. They bring tragedy on themself and others.” Elias was about to jump in anger, but was stopped by Lord Raven’s voice, ”Your war is meaningless. It shakes the Resting.”

”Lord Raven, stop talking in riddles and get to your point. I answered your questions, and my patience is running thin. Unless you are here to offer the support of the North, I am seriously struggling to understand why I must entertain this, when all you have done is violate every law surrounding this Palace.” Elias fired back.

”I care not for your war, child. I care not for the realm. I have one duty. Who sits the cursed throne is not my concern.”

”Cursed?” Elias said with a half-laugh, ”Get out. I have had enough of this.” Elias rose, the fiery wings snapping and growing. ”If you refuse, I will burn your messenger. I have just cause after all.” Looking to Lord Deacon, the old man stayed silent, knowing Elias was within his rights but not wishing to encourage it.

”The Old Ones are restless.” Lord Raven said, ignoring Elias’ words, ”War is one cause.” No one but Tristan saw the crimson iris move to look to him. ”There is another. I have my answer for that.” Janos rose and looked at Elias, ”Prince of Veston.” Lord Raven said, ”Would you like to know why the throne is cursed?”

”The throne is our family’s seat of power, Lord Raven. The very thing your ancestors knelt to and what the relam is. To say it is cursed makes me wonder what you wish to happen to those who sit on it.” Elias’ gaze narrowed. ”Out of keeping relations as they are, I will give one last chance. Leave. Go home, don’t come south anymore. Stay behind the mountain range as you always have.”

”Ignorance is a curse. Ignorance is daming.” Janos rose as Lord Raven spoke, ”We knelt not becuase of fear. We knelt not because we cared. We knelt becuase war would interfere with our duties. Do not misunderstand, child. The Deadlands are not yours, or anyone’s, but Its. We are all simply allowed to live.” Tristan looked at Elias and suppressed his laugh at his twisted face at being called a child so many times. Looking back at Janos, the man touched the door. The iris behind him vanished, and the purple power spread over his body, making him invisible to everyone but Tristan. Watching him, he lifted the mask to cover his face again and left, uncaring of the daggers being stared at him.