"I WROTE A SECOND WILL ON MY WAY HERE," muttered Syria's councilman, swirling his wine, eyes fixed on the dark stain it left on the glass.
"Why?"
"Why?" the man echoed, placing down his goblet with a clink, turning to Arkadia's councilman as if he were the densest man to walk the human plane, which could not have been so far off, "Because when those cursed doors open and that thing that beat our Crown Princess steps through, we are as good as dead."
"It was a draw…"
"What be the fucking difference—," he snapped, eyes wide with something between fear and fury, "If the strongest among us cannot even finish off one of those things, what is going to happen one day, when they decide to kill us all?Huh?"
"That is the same thinking that got your predecessor 'fired', though no one has heard or seen him since," the Egyptian councilwoman said. "What you speak is treasonous. You could be—"
"Killed?" Syria's councilman finished, scoffing, "Do you not get it? This is bigger than it looks on the outside. Ask yourself why the monarch is letting this happen, even after that day." he paused, "Power and leverage. We, the lesser class, do not matter to those who dine above our heads; We are just pawns in their game of chess, and if our king is defeated, our lives will be at another king's mercy all the same, mark my words." he motioned for the wine boy to refill his goblet, he took it down as if it were his last.
"So what? That is how you will accept eternal rest? The Arkadian councilman asked
"At least I shall go down better than the knight."
Arkadia's man blinked at the mention of the beheaded knight. The foolish one, they all call him. There were rumors of what had occurred that no one dared to mention, let alone think about. Finally, he said,"You really are… a fool."
"I am the fool?" the Syrian councilman scoffed.
"So help me, Rah," the Egyptian councilwoman groaned.
"I am not the one asking for 500 more men to help you defeat those savages due to Arkadia's gates always open for the taking, ass up, cheeks spread, mouth wide open waiting to be fucked from all angles, being evaded is kink for you lot," he chuckled.
Arkadia's man matched his humorless laugh. "You talk about open gates…" He glanced down pointedly, then met the man's eyes. "At least my fly is not down."
"Pervert. I left it like that on purpose," he said frantically zipping it up.
Across the chamber, the Egyptian councilwoman choked on her breath, trying not to laugh. "I should have expected his proposal…" she whispered.
A shared tskcame from both men in unison, more annoyed with the interruption than each other. Just then, the doors opened at last. The king, along with the Crown Princess, swept past the council while they bowed their heads. Gilgamesh took his seat at the head of the table, extending a hand, and a steward swiftly poured wine into the golden goblet beside him. Taking it without looking up, the king spoke.
"Proceed."
Before Syria's councilman could open his mouth, Arkadia's councilman stepped forward with a deep, deliberate bow. "Your Majesty," he began smoothly, "I must humbly request an additional thousand men from Syria. Last time, we received fewer than agreed upon."
Syria's councilman stiffened, jaw tightening in a barely contained scowl, then slowly inhaled.
Gilgamesh's gaze shifted to the lord accused, "Is there a reason I have been made a liar?"
The Syrian man stepped forward hastily, adjusting his collar on his robe, which was all of a sudden damp with sweat. "Your Majesty, I offer my deepest apology. The men were dispatched as ordered. However, they encountered resistance, the very same beasts in the northern range. Their delay was unavoidable. I sent word to Arkadia… explaining this at once." His eyes darted toward Arkadian's delegate with an edge sharp enough to draw blood.
Gilgamesh nodded once. Turning to the accuser, "Is this true?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the Arkadian councilman said quickly. "Arkadia has no quarrel. We are, in fact, very satisfied. I was merely doing, as the monarch instructed us, to bring any discrepancies directly to his attention."
Gilgamesh nodded once more. Then, "Syria will send the thousand as requested. If they do not—" he turned his eyes to the Syrian councilman, voice heavy with finality, "You may read your will now, you would be a fool not to have walked with one, correct?"
The Syrian man gave a sharp bow. "Of course, Your Majesty, you are correct."
Both delegates sat again, their faces frozen in masks of civility. The Arkadian councilman leaned in slightly, "Seems like your death will not be an accident after all."
The Syrian man's eye switched, "Perhaps, but I know whose will be."
The council chamber buzzed with activity and anticipation as the rest of the village's chiefs, who were representatives of the people within the streets, and kings, who could not see directly, gathered as they presented their cases. The air was thick with diplomacy and tension, that is, until the newest ambassador decided to show up.
"The Celestial Prince and ambassador of the city of Light, Rhyssand Rimat," the guard called out.
Artizea's gaze shot up instantly.
The chamber went quiet. Heads shot up as the Prince of heaven strode in casually, as it was another day. His wings folded neatly behind him, his dark celestial robes, simple yet elegant, gleamed faintly as he walked to his appointed seat.
Artizea's gaze was burning. The memory of their clash was still fresh. She had not yet marinated her first draw, a rare outcome that had ever since left a bitter taste in her mouth since the Rite of Challenge, the only issue is that now thatsame celestial, by the grace of the gods, has made his way to her council, all while his presence, literally and figuratively, with a suffocating look of gleam on his face that seemed to mock her right as heir and to rule. The very thing she had fought so hard to instill over the years.
Rhyssand, for his part, maintained a polished demure while taking the seat across from Artizea, at the other end of the oval table, his golden eyes betraying a faint glimmer of amusement as their gazes met, making her eye twitch in irritation and restraint, but her heart quickened as well.
Gilgamesh raised his hand, calling the meeting to order. His gaze swept over the room, then addressed the assembly, not bothering to welcome the new ambassador. The topics ranged from trade agreements to territorial disputes. Egypt spoke of rising tensions with the rising sea of late, while Arkadia requested medical aid from Syria against the rising numbers of the flu; they were the closest of the kingdoms in physical proximity, but they were also too close to be friends, and to relent on each other to be enemies. The only way they could get along was in the presence of the king.
A king who was now bored and wished nothing more than to put them both out of their misery.
Artizea, however, listened attentively, occasionally offering insightful commentary on how they might compromise. By engaging herself with these debutantes, she solidified her place once more. Unbeknownst to Rhyssand, observing her, taking in the way she carried herself, with class and intelligence, and most of all, he saw the way she spoke with passion. He found it both admirable and infuriating. An undying flame he saw countless times before.
The discussion turned to matters of disturbance in the angle point, as reported first by the Crown Princess and the first Prince in their last mission. It was time for Celestia to give a statement, explanation, and most of all, a good third impression. Rhyssand stood, his wings shifting slightly, preparing to address the room.
"Good marrow," he said with regality. "I know what some of you here are wondering: Why doesn't Celestia go back into hibernation?" Earning a murmur of chuckles, which were instantly silenced by the king's glare, Rhyssand continued, "The truth is this: Despite what you may have heard and seen, Celestia remains committed to preserving the balance betweenall realms, the human realm especially, However, we cannot maintain that order in the skies while chaos erupts from below." he paused, "Sealed chasms have been reopened, Forces we once held dormant are breaching," he titled his head slightly to Artizea. "I am addressing the instability caused by your interference, Crown Princess…"
Artizea's lips twitched into a faint smirk. She rose slowly. "First and foremost, allow me to extend a warm welcome from our realm and council to yours. Would anyone care to join me?"
Rhyssand blinked.
Artizea began to clap, slowly, and the hall followed suit. All but the king, naturally. "Now, regarding your concern," she continued, "I was sent under direct command from our king, Your Grace Ambassador. Even so, surely, allowances can be made, especiallygiven the… complications we encountered. A species of celestial origin previously unknown to exist in our realm. Surely, you would not fault us for defending ourselves and surviving, because if we who reign this realm do not act in its best interest, who will?"
Rhyssand nodded, "I will not fault you, neither have I come to," he paused, "You will be surprised to hear, I understand completely, and so does the heavenly council, I am merely here as a herald and Mediator, so that issues such as this may not accrue again."
Artizea's eyes narrowed. He seeks the middle ground, eh? "Another thing—" Her voice was calm when it returned. "One might argue Heaven's insistence on this 'balance' is precisely why disorder seeps through. Commendable, of course, but perhaps the Heavens should invest its resources into managing its own problems, so we are not left to clean the mess."
Rhyssand's subtle smile returned. "A compelling theory, Crown Princess. But in the spirit of transparency, I recall… the creature in question was the one defending itself. After someone saw fit to take what belonged to its domain."
Artizea tilted her head slightly, "A necessary piece," she said smoothly, "To the larger puzzle of why they crossed into the human realm in the first place… Your Grace Ambassador—"
Rhyssand's smile did not falter, but his voice turned colder, more exact. "Your concerns are duly noted. Perhaps you can assist me? Healer records say it was male. Surely even you remember a detail as simple as eye color, or perhaps the fatigue of battle has affected your senses as well?"
A flicker of something passed through her, healing records? But her tone remained flawlessly even. "I recall nothing useful," she replied, lips curving. "But thank you, truly, for your concern about my… unnecessary recovery." She let that hang before adding. "Though you are most welcome to test said recovery, within the safety of our fortress, any time you desire, Ambassador. Perhaps you will have better luck than last time."
The mention of their battle at the Rite of Challenge hung heavily in the air. Gilgamesh smirked faintly but said nothing, letting his daughter handle the tension as she saw fit.
Rhyssand's smile faltered briefly, his wings twitching when he leaned forward slightly.
"I do recall our last encounter, Princess. Quite vividly, in fact, A draw, was it not? Some might say that was a victory, considering who I was up against."
Artizea scoffed. He and Arthur could hold hands. "Others might say, declaring triumph to an unwinnable battle is the same as refusing to lie in the bed one has made." Tilting her head ever so slightly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and challenge, Your move, her expression seemed to say.
Rhyssand's gaze narrowed slightly in response. He inclined his head just enough to acknowledge her without breaking his composed demeanor. Before he could respond, Someone cleared their throat, breaking the charged silence. His attention flickered to the Egyptian councilwoman.
"Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand, yes?" she inquired.
Artizea sat back in her chair, locking her gaze on Rhyssand, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk. Their eyes locked briefly, the room around them fading for just a moment.
"Of course," Rhyssand said smoothly. "In conclusion, the celestial realm is committed to cooperation."
Gilgamesh leaned toward Artizea and whispered, "Nicely done."
Artizea straightened, "Thank you, Father."
ARTIZEA
When the council meeting had concluded, and all representatives had been dismissed. Artizea stepped onto the terrace overlooking the city, leaning against the marble railing, her fiery eyes scanning the horizon. It was calming; she should have been at peace, but she was not; her jaw was still clenched in irritation. Her thoughts of their earlier exchange were broken by a blur of feathers that darted past the window. Fin, her sparrow. A mystery all his own. But he had never flown past her before, had he not seen her? She narrowed her eyes. Where are you going, Fin? Without hesitation, she followed, tiptoeing out of the chamber and down the hallway, ducking around the corners of the courtyards, her eyes scanning the area until—There, Fin swooped low beyond the inner gate. She picked up her pace, heart pounding more with irritation than curiosity while she neared the archway of the main gate. She then froze, spotting a tall figure just ahead. Rhyssand. No, no, no. The last thing she needed was him seeing her stalking around the palace grounds like some lovesick shadow, she thought to herself while ducking behind a merchant stall, startling a woman tending a tray of woven silks.
"Your Highness?" the shopkeeper woman gasped.
Artizea pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh." Marinating on how ridiculous this looked to the average subject, she peeked back around the edge, and she saw it. Fin, traitorous little thing, landed delicately on Rhyssand's shoulder, making her jaw drop. What. She blinked once, then twice. Surely, it has to be a wing thing. She convinced herself.
"Traitorous bird—" Artizea hissed under her breath, "The pair of them…"
Just then, Rhyssand's head turned as if he heard her. Her body went into hide or flight; she flung herself back behind the market stall with a quiet thud, her back pressed to a stack of woven baskets. She hissed a breath through her teeth, muttering a curse, then she turned to find the wide-eyed girl tending the stall beside her.
"Hey… um, could you do me a favor…?" Artizea whispered, "What is your name?"
"Oh! H–Harper, Your Royal Highness," the girl whispered back, pressing her hands to her mouth afterwards.
"Beautiful name," Artizea replied, flashing her a smile. "So—Harper, I need you to just… peek around that corner. Tell me if you see a man. Tall. Black hair. Wide wingspan," wide wingspan? she repeated in her thoughts.
Harper blinked. "Wings?"
Artizea nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line, "Unfortunately."
Although confused, Harper obeyed, craning her neck around the edge of the stall.
"I do not see anyone matching that description, Your Highness," she whispered after a beat. "Maybe he flew away?"
Artizea dared to glance herself, carefully lifting her head just above a barrel of plum-colored grapes. Gone. The spot where he stood moments ago was now swallowed by the passing children and consumers. She exhaled, uncertain if it was relief or disappointment. Reaching into the satchel at her side, she drew out a small velvet pouch and pressed it into Harper's hands. "For the trouble," she said gently.
Harper's eyes widened at the weight. "Thank you, Crown Princess!" Artizea nodded, then turned to leave. "Wait—" Harper called out to her, quickly skipping over to her bouquet, plucking the most beautiful bloom from her basket, a four-leaf clover, rare in this district, offering it shyly, "For luck, in finding him," she said.
Artizea grimaced internally at the idea of seeing him again on purpose, but her heart warmed at the gesture of her subject, so she smiled, "Thank you." Finally stepping out of the protection of the shadows, looking left and right, she sighed in relief once more. They were gone indeed. She frowned. But where? Thunk. She had walked straight into an animate object. Her eyes snapped upward, hoping it was just a street lamp; it would not be the first time. Her heart thudded as Crimson saw gold yet again. Even though it was daytime, his eyes gleamed as if it were night.
Rhyssand smirked. "Are you following me, Princess?"
On the inside, Artizea was actively cursing his ancestral bloodline and the fact that this flower might have been magical after all. However, on the outside, she smoothed her face into regal indifference. "Of course not—" she said flatly.
"Interesting," Rhyssand said, stepping aside just enough to loom beside her, hands folded behind his back. "Because it looks that way to me."
"This is my soil, your Highness," she said regally. "I can walk where I please," glancing around again, scanning for something.
Rhyssand tilted his head, arching a brow in amusement. "Now what are you doing? There's no need to pretend you do not like what you see, for we have already established you are stalking me."
"I am not stalking—" she froze. She prayed her brain was doing that self-preservation thing where it automatically skips over something so impossibly stupid that it did not register, but for some odd reason, none of her prayers were being answered today, as the heat slowly crept up her neck. She fought to maintain her natural skin tone with all the dignity she could summon.
"I assure you, I am not following you, Your Grace Ambassador." Artizea gritted out, drawing in a breath, and exhaled slowly. One. Two. Three. So, no one bleeds, "If you must know," she said with forced calm, "I am looking for my bird."
Rhyssand's lips pursed. "Yourbird?" Then, a smirk tugged at his lips. "Are you perhaps then, one of those Princesses who talk to animals for lack of social interaction? It makes sense, considering how hard it is for you to look a person in the eye."
Artizea's jaw clicked in response. Her eyes stayed fixed on the Pendragon banner above him, not because she was admiring it, but because if she looked at him now, she would burn him alive. No, that would start a realm war that her people did not need. She sighed internally. For her people's sake, she would endure this bastard. At least, that is what she told herself.
Artizea straightened, then locked his eyes. "I was mistaken, as are you, Rhyssandzesh…." she whimpered at herself for trying.
He winced as well, then chuckled softly, "Still upset about the draw, I see," leaning slightly against the newly appeared street lamp.
"If I were upset, you would know it," Artizea said smoothly. And feel it. Spinning on her heel. "Good day, Ambassador." Storming past him.
Rhyssand's eyes glowed brighter when she passed.
Artizea tilted her head, turning to leave him behind. "Oversize crow…" she mumbled to herself.