...
That night, Neir slept with much difficulty. He tossed and turned, the image of the stranger's smile burned into his own eyes. Every time he'd managed to fall asleep, he'd wake up in a cold sweat soon after.
His dreams were plagued by the child's face, along with a constant feeling of being watched; which to Neir's dismay, did not disappear with the sleep.
Since the trespasser was brought in rather late into the evening, they were being held in a detention cell, scheduled for a trial the next day. Both Zandik and Neir were required to attend as witnesses, and Neir was nowhere near excited.
To his disappointment, Neir watched as the sun rose outside his window. He sat up, rubbing the fitful sleep from his eyes and shaking out his feathered ears. The silk sheets softly kissed his skin goodbye as he got up out of bed. He stretched, raising his hands high above his head, and yawned. And as he dropped his arms, he heard a knock at the door.
"Your highness," a refined voice drawled from the hall. "His majesty, the king, has requested an audience with you prior to the trial. He deemed it of utmost importance."
Neir sighed and mumbled a half-hearted response to his servant, hastily preparing himself for the meeting with his father. He couldn't help but feel anxious, as he didn't know what his father wanted of him this time. Swallowing his nerves, he stepped into his washroom to prepare.
Once bathed and dressed, Neir stepped out of his room to see the royal attendant waiting in the hall. Neir had never known his name, for his parents never told him. The servant's feathers always covered his eyes, leading Neir to wonder how he was able to see what he was doing. Still, he brushed it off.
With a nod, he began walking through the corridors, leading Neir as if he hadn't lived in the Council Hall his whole life.
The doors slowly swung open, revealing the lavish council room. The room was round, with tall looming windows covering most of the walls. In the center of the room, a long table sat stretched into three quarters of a circle. Behind the table, laid a tall throne upon a podium. And atop the throne, sat Neir's father, King Reinervas.
In his right hand was a long solarite scepter, shining golden in the mid-morning sun. In his left was a glass chalice with a solarite base, and as far as Neir could see, it contained only water.
The king sat tall and lax, not bothering to show any farce of sophistication to his son. His hair fell to his waist in the same golden color as Neir's, peppered with streaks of white and gray, his eyes a silvery blue. He bore the appearance that any would expect of a king; tall and toned, large and powerful. It made Neir's figure seem small and scrawny.
Neir quietly drew a breath before stepping forward. As he stepped into the space in the center of the round council table, he bowed his head before the king.
"Hello, father," he said, his wavering voice reverberating quietly through the large space.
It was a long moment before the king addressed him.
"… Neir."
He stopped, letting intense silence hang over the two of them. Neir felt small beads of sweat start to form on his forehead.
He broke the silence. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, head still bowed.
The king stared back thoughtfully, before looking away, "You're nearing 19 years of age, my son."
Neir had to bite back the urge to roll his eyes. He'd heard this conversation plenty of times before, and each time he heard it again had made him listen less and less. Whether of royal duties and responsibilities, of public image and etiquette, he was sick of his princely training.
But the king continued with something new, "Your mother and I deemed it fit for you to practice the role of king." Neir slowly looked up, eyes open and brows furrowed.
"Practice-?"
"Today's trial," he quickly began, cutting Neir off as if he never spoke in the first place "is a perfect opportunity to put your etiquette and judgment to the test,"
"But father," Neir began to retort, "I was there to witness the crime. Wouldn't that give me some sort of bias?"
"Do you mean to defy me, boy?" Reinervas roared. Instinctively, Neir jumped, immediately straightening his posture. "You will oversee this trial, understand?"
He bowed his head, muttering, "As you wish, father," and he turned to leave.
The walk back to his room was unmemorable, the servant stealing short glances at him every now and then. The corridors were lined with paintings and pictures; of kings and queens, of wars and battles, of love and betrayal. In one, a feathery king tore the horns off of a fearsome dragon. Now more than ever, the eyes of those paintings seemed to stare even harder.
Oversee a dumb trial…
Neir stared on, ignoring the gazes of paint and oil.
…
Neir spent the rest of his morning reading. He sat at his desk, the light of early noon illuminating the pages.
"The Great Creation: The Origins of Altocumulus"
The book was large, taking up much of his desk's surface. Its pages were littered with drawings of the first peoples from all around Stratoph. Detailing the beginning of this world and how Altocumulus came to be, this book was Neir's favourite by far. But he didn't care about the greatness of Altocumulus or the glory of the Sunchild; it made the book seem more like a conceited holy text than a history book.
What interested Neir the most were the Storm Dragons of Cumulonimbus. Every image in the book depicted them as large, fearsome beasts that brought destruction wherever they roamed. Each image was often accompanied by vast walls of text describing why one should fear a Storm Dragon.
To think we walk the same plane as such magnificent creatures—dangerous nonetheless.
To the side, Neir had drawn endless sketches of long, sky-borne creatures donning intricate horns, sharp talons, and winding tails. His eyes were sharp, replicating details shown in the tome. Yet his eyes ignored the pile of unfinished academics tugging at the corner of his vision. Still, he glided his pen over empty pages, filling them with doodles of fearsome beasts, finding solace in the nonsense of it all.
Nearing noon, the silence of his room was disturbed by a familiar knock.
"Your highness,"
Neir stood, closing his book and tucking away his drawings. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and opened his door.
…
Unlike earlier in the day, the room was now filled with council members, including Zandik, who Neir could guess was attending as a witness. Neir's usual seat at the council was empty, but he was not to sit there today.
Rather than sitting on the throne, King Reinervas was standing next to it, beckoning Neir to sit.
"Esteemed council," the king's powerful voice declared, "we are here to question the motives and determine the sentence of this unnamed trespasser. Furthermore, my son, Prince Neir, will be taking my place as the judge for today."
Neir saw the other council members around the table give him a skeptical look.
Reinervas knocked his scepter on the ground thrice in a row. By his command, the large council doors opened.
The stranger was brought into the center of the council table by two guards. It was quite the sight to see, watching them bring what seemed like a child before the council.
It looked eerily unchanged from the previous night. The same long white cloak, masking its entire figure, the same cloud silver headpiece, and the same eerie smile as it eyelessly saw Neir. He shuddered.
Was it even given a chance to bathe…?
Its hands were bound by large metal cuffs, attached to a chain in which the guards used to drag it along. It seemed rather pointless though, given the stranger followed the two without trouble or qualm.
"This criminal was found on council grounds by Captain Zandik Avhearst, and I, Prince Neir," he calmly began. "Captain, if you may."
Zandik recounted the events of last evening, from the sparring match, to the walk back inside; leaving little to no room for Neir to interject. Not that he cared to. Actually, not that he was supposed to, needing to be unbiased and all.
Neir stared down at his hands, fidgeting with his sleeve. The throne cushion was sunken in, his toes just barely grazed the floor beneath him, and the defendant just kept staring at him.
"Neir," Reinervas whispered from his side. Neir looked around, noticing that Zandik had finished speaking. Awkwardly clearing his throat, Neir recalled all the previous trials he'd attended.
"Does the defendant have anything to say?"
The stranger's eyebrows raised, (well, if it'd had two eyebrows both would've been raised), shaking its head. Before Neir could continue, someone stood.
"Your highness," he boomed, "Would it not be reasonable to ask the trespasser to remove their cloak? Sol knows what they could be obscuring."
Duke Vestarus, Zandik's father, and Neir's uncle. He was the highest ranking general under the king's command. He was a proud and loud-mouthed man, hair short like his son's but white with age. Neir could always sense animosity from this man, envious of the kingdom that could've been his. Or perhaps he just read too many books, and was imagining it.
"Well-"
Neir looked toward the child to ask, to which it responded with a nod.
"I see. Very well, then."
As if Neir's word was divine command, the two guards immediately approached the criminal and grabbed its hood. As the fabric slipped off its head, they jumped back in surprise, yelping as the cloak fell to the ground. Everyone jolted.
"Dragon."
Varied gasps and shouts echoed from the council. Out of the nine people seated at the table, four jumped to their feet in outrage, chairs clattering to the floor.
Before them was a child, bearing what appeared to be broken horns atop its head, and a wild, scaled tail thrashing playfully behind it like the wagging tail of a puppy. Its long dark hair was tousled about as the fabric pulled away, tail brushing it side to side.
"… Long, twisted horns protruding from their skull, and a gnarled reptile tail…"
Neir sat frozen in his seat, and the child continued to smile up at him innocently from behind the veil.
"They dare send a spy-?!"
"We must put it to death!"
"… intend to wage war…"
"… Your highness-!"
But he could no longer hear anyone's calls. He didn't dare move a muscle. His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, fingers twitching in anticipation. Every ounce of Neir's brain was setting off alarms, warning him that he was facing danger; perhaps a skillful fighter of a Storm Dragon, here to spy on him, or worse, kill him.
But that small smile pulled his heart in a direction he'd never known. It made him evermore aware of the sun beating down on his back behind him, and the solarite accessories of his councilmen shining twice as bright in its glow. The glare of it all made his head throb.
Noise slowly returned to his ears; nonsense shouting, his father's command, and a quiet whistle from far away.
"Disregard my son's incompetence, kill the beast."
CRASH!!!
Before anyone could move, glass shattered from behind the throne, showering everyone in shards of a now broken window as something crashed right into the child in the center of the room.
Gusts of wind exploded from the collision, sending the council flying backwards. Neir was pressed against the back of the throne, hair thrashing wildly.
The air in the center of the room began to turn, whipping glass shards around at accelerating speeds. Looking down, Neir noticed the fabrics of his clothes were tugged towards the forming vortex. Something grazed his cheek, slicing it open, but no blood came out.
"That blasted-" Vestarus bellowed, unsheathing his sword.
"Everyone evacuate immediately!" Zandik shouted over his father. "There's no hope in fighting a Dragon's storm!"
The air raged, growing to the high ceiling. Papers and books that lay abandoned on the table were swept up into the current. The chairs around the room began to shake.
Finally gaining some sense, the council members began rushing to the large double doors as the whirlwind threatened to take them too. Zandik stayed by the doors, ensuring everyone got through first. However, Neir paused.
Somewhere in that storm was a child.
"Forget the convict, son," a voice boomed from further ahead. Neir saw his father far along the corridor that the rest of the council was escaping through.
Behind Neir, the throne room was being torn to shreds, the table and chairs long gone. As the roof began collapsing, the cyclone burst through the far wall. Neir and Zandik watched in horror as the storm grew into a tall twister, engulfing the entire main tower and stretching down to the ground below.
CR-R-R-R-ACK!
"Look out-!"
With the foundations compromised, the ceiling above them began to crack, sending boulders of marble and concrete plummeting towards their heads.
Zandik grabbed Neir's arm and jumped backwards out of the way, dragging Neir in tow. The two began sprinting down the hall as the ceiling collapsed, no longer running from the whirlwind drifting away from them, but from the structure that was falling apart.
BOOM!
Cr-r-r-r-r-ack…
The impact of the collapse caused the floor to begin crumbling beneath them. But no matter how fast they ran, the floor failed faster.
Zandik grit his teeth as the cracks under his feet stretched further than they could ever dream of making. The floor split open, jagged and uneven, threatening to swallow them both whole. The angle of their run grew, the two running up the falling debris to the point of jumping from piece to piece.
"Captain-!"
Zandik launched himself forward to grab onto the remaining stable ground, looking behind ready to catch Neir. But he was nowhere to be found.
Neir yelped as his feet were swept up from beneath him, sending his world spinning upside-down and his coat folding over his face. He grasped at falling rubble in a futile attempt to stop his fall into the cyclone's yawning mouth below.
Within the wrath of the wind, Neir spun, hair whipping his face, as he was thrown in every direction. His royal robes and his skin were lightly torn by flying glass and debris, dust stinging his eyes. The motion made him sick, and the oxygen made his head spin more than it already was.
Is this how i die...?
Overwhelmed by the wind and the question, he slowly closed his eyes, losing all remaining consciousness.
To be continued...