{Chapter 2}

In the land where rolling grass-fields and gilded deserts bloomed, eventful and prosperous were the few words that described the sundry continent of Incardia. It was one of the few landmasses in the world of Ridonia that was so diverse in both nations and traditions; both in sanguis and countless genocide. The Inaugural Nations, the four major nations, were the start and end of the bloody history of Incardia. 

Soliere was the kingdom of mage-craft and the most beloved nation of Patron Bane Aredese. In the northern side, the horizon never truly set; the moon was shadowed by the glory of the sun, and there, a kingdom laid in rich fields. Sun City (they called it) held the love of the Bane Aredese within its white marble walls, and it called forth the aspiring, young magicians and the finest craftsmen: Avignon of Soliere Kingdom.

Within the city of Avignon, the burning sun was the fierce passion that the valiant knights held as they pushed and struggled for dominance. Outside of the arena: streets alight, banners of the sun and bundle of wheat, common folks in spirit-lifting joy —the New Harvest Festival final event then ensued; the festival of offering to Bane Aredese.

 "Wooh! Get em good!" one of the onlookers cheered, like many others. 

Screams magnified as loudly as a roar of stormy waves. Knights threw each other to the ground and the air, resilience unmatched in all ways. Onlookers also jumped up and down, some pulling their shirts off, shouting, eyes sparkling. It was a rhapsody that reached the booming chorus in an ode to vehemence.

Praises of onlookers echoed with clashing steels. Dust kicked up to hinder the sight of warriors who charged with zealous spirits. Thunders of fear echoed through the arena.

A young man barely into his adulthood watched from afar on a balcony, and most would not notice him if he were a common man. With white hair and starlight silver eyes, he was anything but human. He was a half-Druid, one of the two last remaining native races in Incardia; known for the males' white hair, skin so pale like a translucent fish. But that was not what caught the onlookers' eyes; rather, he was someone who held the sword for the Sun prince.

Many cast glances more than twice, studying his attire from top to bottom: a white shirt and black pants with a jacket of the same color. On his jacket, a tiny blue crystal was clipped. A dashing young man, people noted but paled in his presence. He looked at multiple common folks; they immediately withdrew their gazes. He sighed under his breath and shook his head. Perhaps it was too unusual to see him off-duty, especially someone like him who was knee-deep in duties. He didn't mind; it was not often for him to take a free day. He looked at the wall around the stadium, as if he saw a crystal palace afar.

The noise lingered around the arena. Orion watched with wide eyes; his breath was also held back as the climax of the tournament approached —but in the reflection of his eyes, there was growing envy for those who could brandish their blade on New Harvest Festival. His hand tightened around his arm, the bandages beneath his clothes slowly coming undone. His disciplined expression showed no such thing.

He felt a buzz against his chest and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket to pull out a finger-sized rectangular crystal. His skin glowed against the pulses of blue it released, highlighting the blue veins visible beneath his icy appearance.

His eyes became strict, his thumb pressing onto the surface.

"Orion, are you there?"

"Duke Basarab, I had not expected you. What do you need?"

Elias Basarab chuckled in the back, his rough and grumpy voice unlike his words. "Haha, it is nothing. I noticed you were gone. It's the first time you left Luminur to himself during a Trial. He asked about you as he was changing into his garments."

Orion felt a pinch in his chest, opening his mouth and closing it in repeat. He grunted and shook his head. "I…you already know."

Elias kept silent for a second. "Does it"— he hesitated— "does it have anything to do with bloodshed?"

"No, not exactly." Orion looked down to the arena where small patches of red followed footsteps. "I can handle the sight of blood, but not the stench. And in most cases, I am not to attend the Trials, as I am not of age yet, and Luminur only started at the age of eighteen. My unnatural position as his knight and the captain of the Royal Magic Knights forces me to be there. I grew accustomed to blood from hunting and accidents during training. But the Trials are different. They are too brutal, and seeing Luminur, a man who dislikes brutality, do such acts unnerve me further."

The cheering crowd interrupted the silence between Elias and Orion, throwing more dust like wind as it blinded the knights below and glowed red against the sun.

Elias coughed after the noise flattened. "Orion, if this is too abrupt and out of place, please forgive me, but do you resent him?"

"That…" Orion bit his bottom lip. "I, I can't understand what you mean. I can't hate him." He crossed his arms, face alight with downturned lips and redness. "You have to stop teasing me like this."

"N-no, I wasn't teasing you. I asked because in the past…and even now you speak so roughly about him to me."

"I have no clue of what you're telling me. More so, what are you—"

"Leave this conversation be, now! Let us forget!" shouted Elias through the crystal, causing Orion to wince. "Ah! That reminds me, Luminur told me to remind you: make no trouble. Your presence in the Great Hall is no longer needed, but avoid any form of conflict—more so the nobles."

He sneered and bit down on the flesh of his lip. "He treats me like a child."

"You understand him. He is just worried, but putting this out of the window, the people show great excitement for the New Harvest Festival. We received plenty of positive responses. I know your arm is injured, but, without doubt, you feel the same, no? Their high spirits are infectious."

His fingers curled into his palms, his throat tightening like a collar choking a dog. Joyous was only for those who were spared.

"I—" he cut his words, like an arrow struck his back "—I shall be going."

Before Elias spoke, Orion released his thumb from the crystal, and the glow disappeared with it.

He swallowed down, and the sound of echoing footsteps became closer, until a hand dropped to his shoulder. He flinched, and the hand tightened.

"A horde of fools, I would say they are, Orion," said a man with an insulting tone. He laughed and patted Orion's back, who peered at him from the corner of his eyes. He was Duke Eleanor, Fredrick Eleanor.

Orion's fingers twitched, and he held himself back from releasing those guarded words, waiting to be unchained like savage animals. Fredrick noticed his lack of interest, so he whistled to Orion to come closer. Orion pursed lips ever so slightly as eyes clouded. What other choice did he have than to ground himself with chains; he was nothing more than a dog at beck and call. There was no footing for him in this kingdom where humans sought the carcasses of others, waiting to feast on their remains.

He clenched his jaws.

"I must say it is quite a surprise to see that you have rejected an invitation to this tournament, being more than a noble and given your lineage," said Fredrick, but then he feigned a look of shock. "Oh, wait. What a shame that I had forgotten that you had hurt your arm."

Orion sealed his lips. Fredrick peered at his unchanging face and huffed.

"A quiet dog, aren't you?" He cleared his throat. "I heard that the Crown Prince is in quite the adventurous spree this gël. The sun had barely risen, but blood had already been spilled." He yawned before his eyes twinkled. "The prince is truly the most benevolent yet brutal royalty that I've met."

Fingertips burned when he heard the title 'prince.' He breathed in, and reeled himself away from anger just as was the prince who pulled the leash of the collar of loyalty around Orion to shy away from rage.

Just as he sighed in relief, a glint at the corner of his eyes made all his nerves stand on point. Orion's finger flinched as the duke pulled a bottle of wine from his robes. With a smile coated with deceit, he handed the wine, the clear bottle mirroring the torn emotions in his eyes. The more he watched, the tighter his fist became.

"Drink it from the bottle, Orion. No one here lives long enough to refuse the riches life offers. You won't refuse this 'offer,' now, would you?"

Orion let out a shaky breath and took the bottle. His cold hand wrapped the neck, bringing the mouth of it to his lips. An engulfing bitterness, perfumed by alcohol, rushed out, and he coughed, red liquid dribbling down his chin. His other hand fisted into a ball as he hid it under his jacket. Orion took the bottle of wine again, pouring it down his throat. A single tear streaked down his cheek.

"Ahaha! It is enough. Willing to fall to such disgrace, Orion!" The duke bellowed into a roar of laughter, much too happy to conceal it. "I thought you'd be used to drinking by now, given how many times you so happily took the wine I've given."

A numbing clap landed on Orion's back, and his eyes watched the red-tinted corners of the duke's eyes leak with joy.

"This world must love to bow down at the feet of your druid father."

Orion froze. He swallowed down the last drop of wine on his tongue before he shot bullets with his eyes.

"Certainly, your grace, your reputation lives up to your name. Slandering the name of Magic Knights is one thing I cannot tolerate; but I believe that the Magic Knights of Battlemore will not spare you a glance, as your words hold no meaning in their eyes." His face felt hot, while the unbridled words unchained themselves.

The duke turned around, his face red in rage. "Impudent child! How dare you speak to me in that way? You are only a filthy dog licking the feet of His Majesty! The rumors must be true: you are His Royal Highness's whore! Ha!" He grabbed Orion's collar, shaking him violently, and Orion winced at the sharp aches; a ricocheting pain stung him when thrown to the ground and when kicked in the abdomen.

Teeth gnashed to fight the pain as hands shook. Orion picked himself up and dusted the dirt from his clothes. It hurt —in more than one way. His chest banged, like a bird rattling against its cage, and the sounds soon died in his ears. The reins he had grappled for so long began to slip past his fingers; Orion stood up. Fredrick's eyes became bloodshot. Before his hand grasped Orion's pale cheek, Orion took hold of the duke's arm and twisted it backward, pushing him away from himself. Fingers gripped the duke's face, and an unspoken fear shadowed him like that of Orion.

Like a wild dog, the chains around Orion's neck loosened, his whisper like a winter gale: "Did you just slander the prince?"

Orion shoved him onto a wall, fingers tightening over the duke's cheeks. "Whatever you wish to say, you may say about me: a mutt, a bastard child, a plaything, any obscenities —But..." his hand tightened, and the duke began to squirm. "Say one word about the crown prince and I'll make sure that you do not move on peacefully from this. You understand?"

Orion bared his teeth, but a sudden pain bulleted through his heart. He fell to his knees. A choked gasp and shivering aches ripped through Orion's body relentlessly. "Eurk!" He almost lurched out a handful of blood.

A dog had to be chained back to the principles of Bane Aredese. All the Royal Magic Knights such as he possessed no freedom of expression. He cursed under his breath, regretful and angered that he took the oath and became a hound of Aredese. He fell to his side; the pounding pulsed louder, the place around turning to twos and scattered images. Blood seeped through gloved fingers.

Fredrick scrambled upright and struck his foot to Orion's abdomen and spat on his face who simply laid on the floor.

"You. Filthy dog! His Royal Highness will hear of this!"

His breath hitched for a moment, and it released when he tried to shrug it off. Needles pricked him while he watched the red-faced duke run away with his tail between his legs.

He was a pathetic coward, and giving attention to the likes return nothing but trouble. Orion knew that too well, but it was irrefutable that he was unable to bite in the end. His feet, legs, and the world turned upside-down in black.

Like a parrot, hatred hardened his heart into stone, wrapped in steel by the laughter and mockery. Before he knew it, the bottle shattered into a million pieces against the gray walls. The liquid flowed down to the stone stairs, further into the cracks, red and bitter. He bit the flesh of his bottom lip, stomping away as glass crackled under his boots. Resentment tied him to karmic binds, but in truth, his anger was reserved for him and him alone.

Orion narrowed his eyes and shook his head, swallowing down his grievances. With eyes closed, he took several deep breaths, and the tightness of his ribcage abated. Orion wiped the blood from the corner of his lips, despite the pain still coursing through his body.

He creased his brows and shook it off just as fast. "Forget it. Luminur treats me like a small child. He would find reason to scold as if he was…Aestas."

A burst of screams scattered through the air. At the arena, the knights captured their foes, and prize money was to be given to the victors of the tournament, whose faces brightened like the sun above them. Without saying another word, a price was offered and another round of applause ran down the spectators.

Orion glanced at the sun-soaked battleground below him: the retreating knights whose smiles and tears brought an end to the tournament, and his heart fell in realization. "I must go to Luminur, but perhaps I can postpone…and I might linger in the city."

A flash of red splat to the floor, and the rigid air of iron seared his nose like it always had in the Great Hall. He never questioned the prince. It was better this way. A quiet tongue spoke gold at every word.

His face turned solemn, before a pale flash engulfed him. Orion threw his legs to the other side. People rushed out the way, quick to step aside for him. "Banes forbid! Sir Alain will flay me for forgetting to check on his squire! But why did he ask me!" Orion huffed and puffed while he ran.

A white building like the others of the city sat atop a hill. Brown oval shields laid on the ground, a few wooden swords with them. Orion scowled as he approached the barracks of the squires. He stopped and his eyebrow curled up. Laughter and cheers reached his ears.

He opened the doors and squires sprinted past Orion, splashing water and ice. His pokerface threatened to flinch.

Shirts and pants laid on the wooden floor, unwashed and forgotten. Rodents raced across the dusty corners, and the damp stone walls and ceilings dripped water onto beds and rotting wood.

He heard that they were a rowdy bunch of new squires who were around his age of sixteen, most being around fourteen. They were as rambunctious as children on the streets, screams heard from the foot of the hill.

At the corner, a fresh lump of brown sat like a drop of chocolate—both were abominations to Orion. He grimaced sharply, turning his nose away in disgust, and Orion wondered to himself if the lump was an excretion or mud (and earnestly hoped that it was the latter).

"Listen to me, all of you." He cleared his throat and said, "This place is far too filthy."

His eyes became dead like a goat when waves of noise ravaged the barracks. Orion shook his head, but from behind him, a boy threw a bucket of water at another, but the boy dodged, rolling down the floor. The bucket flew across the room, squires cheering at the airborne bucket. Orion's eyes were closed to the ordeal, and the squires turned pale and shouted for him.

"Sir Orion!"

Just when he opened his eyes, a splash of cold water casted itself onto his face; clothes became heavier and darker. The whole room fell into harrowing silence—the sound of dripping water and tapping feet were heard.

Pulling out a lace handkerchief from his dampened jacket, Orion wiped his face. Squires huddled together and kept close. Most looked like a ghoul and avoided the knight's scowl. Orion could not imagine that the boys were around his age.

He said with a flat voice and unamused eyes, "At the rising of the sun I want every one of you to run until the peak of the day. I shall be sure to apprise your knights."

Before he left the barrack, he stopped and turned to them again. His eyes sparkled, searching the room, and one boy stiffened like a board when his gaze struck him. That was the boy whom he had to find! Sir Alain had told him that his squire had a mission which went horribly —something about a fowl chasing him.

Orion took a silent breath. "You, what do you go by?"

The squire straightened his back and bowed, exclaiming. "Yes, Captain Etoile! This squire's name is Pierre!"

Orion winced at the amplified sound and felt slightly irked by it. "Has the chicken been returned?"

Within silence and a couple of dripping water, the boy held a complicated expression, which became more twisted. "Ch—chicken, Sir Orion? What...chicken?"

Orion realized that Pierre had most forgotten or so he believed. He waved his hand in dismissal and smiled as softly as he could, but the boys appeared more frightened. Orion was long used to these reactions and had given up trying to understand this. Something regarding his smile to be murderous.

The boy held a twitching grin. Orion raised his eyebrow at the green expression of the boy and thought that he was ill, so he approached him. The other squires scattered away in confusion, puzzled by Orion's action.

He stood right in front of Pierre, looking down at the younger one, and said with a hand held out, "Pierre, did the chicken peck your bottom too hard? Allow me to inspect. It would be unwise to leave a wound unattended."

The boy turned a bright red and pushed Orion away from himself. Orion's eyes widened a few millimeters, legs stumbling backward. He shot a deadly gaze at Pierre who flinched in terror. "What is the meaning of this?"

Pierre flinched. Orion tilted his head to the side, perplexed by the actions and reactions of the young boys around his age and younger. Each tremor and step backward, Orion saw them but understood none of it

Pierre shakily stepped away and shouted, "Sir Orion, I understand that you are the same age as me, but you have to learn restraint! I am not interested in men! I am not a bent!"