The Rebel's Crown - Chapter 1 - Rebirth

The Rebel's Crown gives hope. It is a beacon to the oppressed and strength to the abused. A crucible that will purge tyranny.

╚╩╩╩╝

I fell.

There came shouts from at least a dozen men in a mix of jeers and insults. They were standing atop the cliff just above me. They had promised me food and shelter if I would acquire something for them. I had retrieved what they had asked for, a simple golden feather. It was in a small cave inside a sheer cliff, covered in slick moss that made it near impossible to climb.

Just as I had begun to climb up the rope that they had used to lower me, they cut it. Below where I had just been hanging was a field of large stones surrounded by tall green trees. It would be easy for them to pick their treasure off my corpse.

I clutched the cold metal in my hand as I fell, its sharper edges cutting into my hands.

I didn't want to die. Despite all that I had gone through, I wanted to live.

To this group, I was a pitiful existence. An eyesore that didn't deserve a second thought. Expendable.

I had a family, once. A loving wife and two sons. Then the war started. I was drafted and quickly discharged due to a severe injury given to me during battle. Shortly after, they took our sons from us. They were only twelve and fourteen. It took less than a week for my wife and I to receive the tragic news of their fate. The grief became too much for my wife, who became deathly ill and quickly passed. Broken and unable to work, I lost my home, my friends and myself. I was pushed to the streets, forced to live off the generosity of others.

Nearly ten years had passed since that moment. I managed to survive through many rough winters and the occasional sickness. I no longer resembled the man that I once was. Then, in my darkest time, this group approached me. They said that they had to retrieve something from the inside of a cave a great distance from the village where I lived. They needed my help because they were all too heavy to lift. To me, this was a chance to start new, a hope for a better life. They offered me food, shelter and even a job if I did well. My hopes were in vain.

The ground closed in quickly, the rocky landscape growing larger as I fell. Everything went dark as I hit the ground. Strangely, I didn't feel the ground; everything just stopped all at once. I still felt as though I could control my body, but when I tried to do anything, nothing happened. Despite everything, I felt calm. I was finally at peace.

"You are dead." Came a sharp voice from within this darkness, startling me.

"He has the feather!" Came another ecstatic voice.

A chatter started around me with hundreds of voices happily shouting something about a feather.

"Mortal." The sharp voice stood out, stopping all others. "You hold something special."

"The feather. He has the feather." The voices started chanting again.

"Quiet! All of you! We all know that he has that blasted feather!" The sharp voice snapped, quieting all the smaller voices. I could barely hear something that sounded like a whimper from the quieted voices.

Another voice spoke through the rest, this one deep and smooth. "What you hold is the last feather of the Sunbird."

The sharp voice perked up. "The Sunbird was an ancient being known for its innate ability to give life."

"Unfortunately for the creature, the world had just been ravaged by a terrible plague, and people were desperate for a cure."

"The Sunbird was a selfless and empathetic being. It gave all that it had to eradicate the plague. It had traded its own life for the life of the world."

"Seeing the sacrifice that this creature had made for them, the people of the world gathered to safeguard the last remnant it had left. A feather from its crest."

"They buried it deep within a mountain, not knowing of its power."

"That feather shares the power that its owner once had. It has the power to bring life to anything it touches."

"However, you are already dead. The Sunbird's power cannot revive the dead."

If it can't revive the dead, then what reason would they have for speaking to me. Surely they had better things to do then rub my own death in my face. Why are you telling me this? I wanted to ask, but I was dead and couldn't speak.

The deep voice, to my surprise, answered my question. "We are telling you this, because we would like to make a deal."

"Yes. With ours' and the feather's powers, we could create a new body for your spirit to reside."

"We would do this on one condition."

"We would not immediately give you control of the body."

"There is a great task which we would have you accomplish, and in order to prepare you for this, we will take measures to ensure that you are able to complete it."

"Do you accept?" Both voices spoke expectantly. It was as if they knew I was going to agree.

These two voices had given me so much information all at once, and there was no way that I could verify that it was true. And they spoke so fast that I was barely able to keep up. A part of me felt that something was off and that it would be bad to accept. There was something off about everything happening, but something in the background assured me that it would be good, despite the bad. Whether it was my thoughts, or one of the voices, I didn't know, but something told me that it was true.

Yes, I accept.

"Excellent." The two voices boomed in excitement.

I felt a sudden rush as the voices in the background became louder with inane garbling.

Suddenly, the darkness vanished and I could see the bright world once again, though it seemed brighter than before. I could see my lifeless body in a crushed mass on the ground. A pile of sallow skin hanging tightly to a fragile skeleton, covered in a mass of hair grayed not by age, but by stress and depression. It looked like the men had been dropping stones off the cliff to see which ones would hit my body. It looked like they were competing to see how much damage they could do and that someone had probably won by now.

Darkness quickly covered everything around as storm-clouds gathered overhead, pouring down rain. Still clutched in my hand, the golden feather flashed a dull light and started to lose its golden color, trading it for a deep purple.

An opaque violet energy began to flow from the feather, enveloping my lifeless body. After a moment, the energy surged away from my body and began to spiral above the ground a short distance away, carrying parts of my decaying body and using them to add to what I assumed was my new body.

The rain stopped and the energy finished taking shape and revealed the standing form of a young girl, who looked no older than seven years old. Long, straight, ash colored hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, stopping just over her waist, almost matching the color of her delicately pale skin. She wore a long, simple dress the same color of the violet energy that hung down to just over her ankles. Something about the way this girl looked pained me, but I couldn't quite figure out why.

The feather, now a dull yellow color, lay inert on the ground, rose into the air and shot towards the girl, piercing through the center of her forehead. The feather stopped the moment it broke the skin and a small red flame appeared at the top of the feather, devouring it without leaving ashes. The flame slowly burned its way down through to her forehead and the moment that the flame reached her skin, only a dim diamond-shaped glow remained on her forehead before that too disappeared completely.

In that moment, I could feel my spirit being dragged through the air and into the girl, stopping just after entering, like I was dipping my feet into a shallow pool of water. Then her cerulean blue eyes flickered open, examining the world. It was a strange sensation. I could feel every sense through this girl's body, yet couldn't. I could feel everything through her body, and through what I assumed was my spirit at the same time. Suddenly, she started moving on her own, and started to become very scared and confused. I had no idea how I knew what she was feeling since I had no control of her body, though I knew that neither did whoever those voices belonged to. So who did have control?

I know now how much I took my own body for granted. Having all five senses was amazing and I had lost the appreciation for them. The smell left after rain mixed with the scent of pine, the taste of the moisture in the air, a lukewarm breeze blowing through the trees. And the sudden voices of bumbling brutes just coming through the trees on the other side of the clearing.

"Why'd it haf ta get so blasted dark? We were havin' fun." One of the brutes pouted, speaking like his tongue was too big for his mouth.

"Can't help the weather. Le's just find that jerk and get goin'" Another brute spoke, seeming to have the same speaking problem as his friend.

Those brutes were within earshot, and also smelling distance it seems. I guess that my own nose had grown dull from living on the street for so long. A stench followed them that closely resembled burnt hair and rotting corpses.

I couldn't move this girl's body, but I really wanted to. And it seemed that she had some common sense and moved behind some trees. The storm-clouds had now broken and let some light shine down on the clearing where my body had laid previously. The only remnant of me falling there was my old cloak. There wasn't even any blood left.

Thirteen men came into view, all but one looking like the wrong end of a horse. The odd one out, their leader, the man that I recognized as the one who had approached me for this job, was at the head of the group. He was a tall, slender and pale man who dressed in well fitting, dark clothes, with even darker eyes. His blond hair was cut and styled very fancily. He dressed like a noble, which made it easier for me to trust him at first.

"He's gone…" The leader muttered.

"Don' worry boss. He's 'round here somewhere."

"Are you sure!" He yelled, turning on his heel to face the one who had spoken, continuing to shout angrily. "Because I remember him going splat on the ground right here!"

"Well maybe some'in ate 'im." Another spoke up.

"No, there's something else going on. There's not a drop of blood or trace of a beast. The only thing left here is his rotted cloak. Ham! Come over here!" The nobleman called out, turning back towards the men.

A young man, not yet in his teens, with hair the color of churned cream came out from the group and stood in front of their leader. His eyes were dark, but shone like water in the moonlight. He had lighter skin, though with tan-lines that would suggest that he spend a long time in the sun with only his hands exposed.

"Do your thing." The leader commanded before stepping aside, gesturing to the cloak.

The boy named Ham stepped towards where my cloak sat and pressed a hand to his chest. A faint purple glow shone from where his hand was pressed which started to flow through his body until it passed through his eyes. The moment the glow passed through his eyes they began to emit a flame like aura.

Ham pulled his hand from his chest and aimed it at my cloak. A plain ring of white energy formed just in front of his hand, pulsating silently.

"Well?" The leader asked impatiently.

"It's strange. The spirits here are silent… afraid."

"What would make the spirits… afraid?" The leader mocked.

"I'm not sure, boss. But whatever it is, it's not good." Ham said, his voice quivering, "We need to get out of here."

"Sorry, but whatever is scaring those spirits of yours can't be much scarier than Terrence when we don't get him what he wants. That fat pig will hang me by my teeth if we don't find that feather."

"But dad!" The boy cried out, turning to face the nobleman.

"No buts. And you know not to call me that! Spread out and search!" The leader commanded, turning to the group of bumbling oafs. "We'll go out in teams of two. And because we're currently shorthanded, Ham will go by himself. Maybe he can get those spirits talking."

The group of men began to scatter, everyone going in different directions, some of the men mocking Ham as they left. The boy was the one to come in our direction. The girl was still paralyzed by fear, struggling to even breathe, and completely unaware of what was going on.

From the aura still flowing from the boy's eyes, I figured that he was still communicating with these spirits. I wasn't too sure before, but I could easily guess that he was using magic. Living as far out in the country as I was, I never heard or saw much of anything magical. Even during my time in the military. Everyone I worked with didn't have any talent with the stuff.

I watched the boy come closer and closer to the tree we stood against and then pass it without any sign he knew we were there. My fears then came true when I saw him turn sharply in our direction. Carefully and quietly, he crept towards us until he eventually saw the girl. He lowered his guard when he saw the girl trembling against a tree, though he still kept his hand near the knife on his waist. Then his eyes widened as the purple aura flickered.

The boy dropped his guard completely and cautiously approached the girl and with a quiet, trembling voice, he spoke. "The spirits… the spirits say that you are important. I-I'm not sure why, but here." He said, holding out a small bag. The bag rattled as he held it out, his hand shaking. "T-There's some money in there. E-Enough to get a traveler to take you w-wherever you need. It's getting dark soon, s-so I need you to follow the sun until you reach a small town. T-There's an i-inn there, it has a sign with a bird on it. T-Tell them that H-Ham sent you."

"W-Why…" The girl whimpered, confused at what was happening.

Like before, I could feel the emotions that the girl was experiencing. She felt lost and disoriented, unsure of anything. Did we not only share sense, but emotions as well? If that was the case, could she feel what I felt?

"I-I already told you." The boy answered, looking desperate for her to accept the pouch.

He took a longer look at the girl and started to look around frantically. He then rushed back out to where my body had fallen and grabbed the cloak that had been left behind and returned with it.

"Y-You must be cold. Wrap this around you." He said, holding out the cloak.

The girl quickly grabbed the cloak and wrapped it around herself. An emotion that I myself hadn't felt for a very long time began to fill her as the rough clothing warmed her skin: comfort.

"N-Now go, before the others start to wander near here. T-They won't be as nice as me." Ham said, gesturing towards where the sun was positioned in the sky.

Ham once again held out the pouch of gold and the girl took it and pushed it into a pocket of the cloak and started towards the sunset. She had no shoes, so we both had to share the pain of having the occasional thorn or rock scratch at her feet as she crept through the brush, being careful to not be seen. As bad as it was, the smell following those men allowed us to know when one was nearby and which direction to go to avoid them.

As we moved, I turned and stretched myself as far as I could from the girl and found Ham leaning up against a tree, hand on his sweat-covered forehead.

"I never thought that I could get mugged by a spirit before." He sighed, exhausted.

I then found myself being pulled back towards the girl as she moved even further away.

Eventually, we came to a river. I recognized the road, as well as the river. If we followed the road north, we would come to a town. And then, almost as if she heard what I had thought, the girl turned and started to follow the river upstream. Could she hear my thoughts too?

The town quickly came into view. A large water wheel was turning, being pushed by the river, running a mill that would work the lumber that men were currently gathering just ahead.

One of the men saw us and dropped the wood he was carrying and came out to meet us, almost sprinting, his bright green eyes filled with worry. He was wearing very worn out, gray work-clothes. A mop of messy, brown hair covered his head and fell onto his collar.

"What are you doing out here? Are you lost? Where are your parents?"

I felt a rush of confusion, fear and sadness from the girl as warm tears started to well in her eyes.

The woodworker took a look at the cloak she was wearing and his eyes went wide with surprise.

He stood up and shouted to one of the other woodworkers nearby. "Hey, tell the boss that I'll be right back." A couple of workers nearby waved back and reached down and scooped up the girl, starting towards town.

"Look at your poor feet. Don't worry, we'll set things straight." He said, examining her now bloodied feet.

The girl felt a rush of panic for a moment, but the man's voice calmed her. This man felt very familiar to me, somehow.

We passed by several people that eyed us strangely, though they were quick to brush it off and continue on with their day. The man brought her to a building with a sign bearing the image of a gold-colored bird. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, walking over to a table where he set the girl on a chair. He then left to speak to the hostess at the bar, away from where the girl could hear, but not where I couldn't hear.

"Who's the girl?" Asked the elderly hostess from behind the bar as she cleaned.

"I found her just outside town. She just came from the forest." Pert spoke, breathing quickly.

"Do you think you know her parents? I don't recognize her." The hostess spoke, glancing over to the girl.

"That's the thing. I do recognized her, but I didn't realize who she was until I saw what she was wearing." Pert explained animatedly.

"What do you mean?" The hostess asked, setting the glass she was in the middle of cleaning on the bar.

"That cloak was hand stitched… by my cousin. She would always sew a star into the collar. She married the butcher of a village to the south, but they've both been dead for nearly a decade."

"You think she stole it?"

"I would if she didn't look identical to my cousin."

"You're saying…"

"It's proof we're all being lied to. These deaths and disappearances aren't what they seem." The man said, clenching his fist tight enough that his hands turned white. "She looks no older than seven, so they must have been alive until recently."

"We don't know if they're dead just yet. Bring her over here, I want to ask her something."

The man then came over and brought the girl back over to the counter and set her on a stool.

The hostess was a wrinkled, older woman with hair as white as snow. Her sunken eyes were the color of the afternoon sky and carried a warm love behind them.

"Sweetie, could you tell me your name?" The hostess asked, smiling warmly.

A name…

Now that I really look, she really does look like her, doesn't she. I wonder why? Gods know that she had no part in making her. It's been so very long since I'd seen her that I'd nearly forgotten her face. If we had a daughter, I'd have definitely named her after her mother.

"Jaime." The girl said quietly.

Could she really hear my thoughts? I was shocked. There was no other explanation.

"That can't prove it any more." The man cheered, looking like he wanted to jump for joy. "You really are Jamie and Claude's kid."

I vaguely remembered who this guy was. Him and my Jaime were very close as children. He even helped me build our home when Jaime and I were married. I've forgotten so much. I couldn't remember his name, even though he remembered mine: Claude. It was a name I hadn't heard in a very long time. Most people referred to me as 'you' on the streets. I had lost that identity long ago.

"Hush." The hostess quieted the woodworker. "Now Jaime, is there something that you need to tell me?" She asked, raising her brows and opening her eyes very wide.

"H-Ham said-"

"You don't need to say anymore." The hostess interrupted, a ferocious look replacing the care in her eyes. She turned to the woodworker and spoke in an icy tone, "Pert, could you go prepare the backroom for me."

Pert. That was his name. I couldn't… wouldn't forget it again.

"Yes, ma'am." He answered and marched around the counter and through the door behind her.

The hostess reached for the cloak causing Jaime to pull back and wrap her arms around herself.

"It's okay. I'm just going to wash it for you." She pleaded.

"No!" Jaime cried, holding it tightly.

The hostess leaned back and rested a hand on her hip, sighed and left the matter alone.

Pert then came out from the back room and told the hostess that he had finished his task.

"Alright sweetie, time for bed." The hostess said. "Pert, bring her in. I'll find some shoes for her in the morning. In the meantime, I'll bandage up those feet for you."

Pert picked her up again and brought her into the backroom where a small bed sat in the corner. He laid her on the bed as the hostess pulled out a small box labeled 'first aid'. After having her feet bandaged and being tucked under a heavy woolen blanket, Jaime quickly fell into a deep sleep.

I stretched myself out from Jaime and, with nothing better to do, I experimented with my new spirit body. After a short time, I found that I was able to pass through the wall with some effort. Even though I didn't truly have my own body, this scenario isn't too bad. I lived a good life for a time, but lost everything. Getting a new body wouldn't have solved my problems, but maybe watching over this new daughter of mine would be a real second chance.

Pert and the hostess sat across from each other at the bar. There were very few patrons present at the time, and they were all passed out drunk.

"Ham?" Pert asked, inquiring about the boy who had helped Jaime get away from those thugs.

"Campo's son, Hamil." The hostess stated in a quiet tone.

"Isn't he working with his father?" Pert asked, surprised and confused.

"Only in word. Hamil's a Spiritualist. He connects with the spirits, and the spirits only act for good." The hostess answered, then whispered under her breath. "Hamil is nothing like his father."

"How do you mean?"

"Campo is working for Lord Gelling. We aren't sure why, but now I'm positive that he's behind the disappearances that have been happening for the past several years. Hamil has been bringing in the victims of his father's deeds: women, children and even some of Campo's own men who wanted to get away." The hostess began to rub her temples. "I just wish he would leave it all behind and get away. His testimony would be enough to convict his father, and I'm sure that they would be able to get Campo to confess against Lord Gelling. Then he could put his talents to good use."

"I'm not sure that the country is in a state where Lord Gelling could get convicted of anything. Too many just like him are in power."

"I'm well aware. You aren't the only one with contacts at the capital."

"Ha, that is true, but I think mine are more reputable."

"Whatever you say." The hostess laughed roughly. "I'm going to close up for tonight. Could an old woman borrow some muscle to get these drunkards out?" She added, gesturing to the few men left in the building who were laying passed out on the tables and floor.

"Yes, ma'am." Pert accepted, standing and cracking his knuckles. He then proceeded to use whatever means necessary to remove patrons from the bar and either out the door, or up to their rooms. Even lifting one by their pants and throwing them out the door after they refused to leave.

"Don't worry about him, he'll be back to apologize tomorrow." The hostess chuckled.

I pulled myself back into the room where Jaime was sleeping and stared at her face for a time. She really did look exactly like the Jaime I married. I cherished in the image and was flooded with the memories I had shared with her. When we first met, our time courting, when we became engaged, when we were married and the look on her face both times she held a newborn in her arms. Her deep blue eyes were enchanting in every scenario.

During the night, while Jaime slept, I familiarized myself with the layout of the town. If Jaime somehow knew my own thoughts, I could help her by gathering knowledge.

I remembered the town. It was called Pyle after the name of the man who built the checkpoint just to the north. Beyond the checkpoint is the capital. You'll always find a squad of soldiers positioned at the checkpoint to inspect the cargo of traders that come and go. Being on the main road, this town had its fair share of visitors, which kept the inns busy.

The main road was not the only path through here, however. There was another path which was very much out of the way, through what some called the 'Bog of Eternal Stench'. It was a major exaggeration to call it that, though. It was just a swamp. There were a few dangerous animals, but they kept to themselves mostly. The biggest thing to worry about there would be the bandit problem and the occasional beast. Because of the absence of the army, criminals and bandits frequently traveled through the swamp.

During my short service as a soldier, we were forced to take this route to the capital because of rumors of a famous thief who was supposed to have gone there. It was all an obvious trick, though disobeying an order was grounds for execution so we had to follow through.

I found that I could stretch much farther out while Jaime was asleep, so I could go as high as the clouds and just past the edge of town. As I surveyed the area, I spotted plumes of smoke coming from the distant horizon. I figured that it wasn't much to worry about and returned to Jaime's side after exploring more of the town.

After trying, I found that I could also sleep if I was right next to Jaime. I could see a dream, though it was obviously not mine. It was like how things worked in the real world. I was watching from above, unnoticed to all below, where Jaime sat at a buffet table with a spread of various cheeses and sweets.

╚╩╩╩╝ Earl Terrence Gelling ╚╩╩╩╝

There did not exist a term for how angry I was at this very moment. If I took a trip down to the larder, all the bread would sour, the cheese would mold and the meat would grow maggots. When I would get into trouble as a boy, my father would scold me by saying that he was 'not mad, but disappointed', which I knew was a bald-faced lie each and every time. The man in front of me, however, was not my son. He was an employee of sorts. I was given a task, which I then placed into his, what I once thought were capable, hands.

"Please have mercy, my lord." Said the pitiful failure lying prostrate in front of me as I sat atop my throne.

I chuckled as I thought that If the king heard me refer to my seat as a throne, he would probably have me on the gallows. Though the chances of him hearing that were very slim since I hardly ever left my estate. Any business outside could be dealt with by others. That is the privilege that someone like me deserves.

The failure on the ground kept on rambling about mercy and making up for it, but I was very much done with this conversation.

"So Camparn, what should I do with you? This is not the first time you've failed me like this. Other nobles are beginning to suspect me of supporting you."

"My lord, I assure you. We can find what you are looking for. I have my men out searching as we speak." Camparn pleaded desperately.

"Looking is not what I need! What I need is that artefact in my hand!" I shouted.

Shouting like this was not something a dignified noble such as myself should do. This made me even more furious.

"I-I'm sure that we will find it soon. O-One of my men spotted a-a little girl running from the area where we found the f-feather." Camparn whimpered.

Wait…

"A feather? I didn't send you after a lousy feather!" I cried out, louder than ever.

"B-But-"

"No buts! Get out there and find my artefact!" I was sure that my face was redder than a tomato at this point.

Camparn, or Campo, or whatever ridiculous name those troglodytes of his call him stood in a panic. I pulled him out of a hole that he had dug for himself, the least he should do is succeed.

"Y-Yes my lord! I will leave now and gather my men." Camparn stuttered as he rushed from the room.

After the room had emptied, a heavy pressure filled it, an echoed voice following close behind. This voice was painful to hear. Every word scraped my insides, pierced my ears and made my eyes bulge.

"Good men are hard to find in nearly every age." The voice rang through the room.

"Y-Yes. He did well in the past, so I gave him one last chance." I agreed, feigning confidence.

"Be careful with chances. Too many chances will make a man lazy." The voice warned, its words tickling the back of my mind.

His choice of words were deeply insulting. Being in my position, it is my right to eat as much as I desire. Though I knew that speaking out would get me devoured.

"It is only a matter of time before we find that artefact. Please be patient with me, my lord, as I have been patient with my men."

"Very well. Though be careful. There are many in this world who would gladly accept my task in your place."

With that, the pressure faded, leaving me to myself.

"Butler! Bring me the usual!" I called out, exhausted from this encounter.

My butler came in through a door to my right.

"Cheese, cakes and wine, my lord?" My butler asked.

"Bring me some entertainment as well." I continued.

Shortly after, my butler came back to the room with a cart topped with plates full of the greatest delicacies money could buy and bottles of the finest wines produced in the country.

Following behind the butler came another man, dressed in all black, holding a thick chain with both hands. The man came to the room and pulled on the chain, dragging whatever was on the end into the room. With both hands shackled, a man that more resembled a skeleton stumbled forward, falling forward into the room. The black-clothed man then grabbed a plate and set it down on the ground not too far away.

I watched, sitting as my butler fed me whatever was on the cart, as the man dragged himself towards the plate, but stopped as the black-clothed man pulled back on the chain, keeping him just out of reach of the food.

Applauding, I spent the next hour watching as this man suffered for my amusement.