Chapter III

⛨Reflections of the Past⛨

Fregnemor 28 Xarodynad Pferdjahr 53, Castle Dorne

In a brightly lit throne room, Her Majesty Königin Frederica von Hase sits upon her regal throne. She is only around forty-one years old, but she still retains skin as smooth as when she was twenty, perhaps even that of when she was younger. Long strands of dirty-blonde hair drop down from her beneath her white and silver crown, falling to just above her knees. She typically wears an expression of boredom when dealing with matters of state.

Dully engaging in monotonous conversation with her advisors and generals, she discusses the current state of her domain within the Holy Dalich Empire. Meanwhile, a lavish banquet is being meticulously prepared, with maids and servants bustling about to ensure every detail is attended to.

Among them, Anaka assists in preparations, and her youth, loyalty, and diligence are as unwavering as they were two eons ago. Even after all these years, she has retained such beauty to put all present to shame. It is what is expected from an elf, after all. Queen Frederica watches closely as they work, ensuring that they are performing at their best, all while listening as her generals drone on discussing their patrols, border watches, and news of Hohenite rebels’ potential movements within her lands.

Amid their assembly, a slender elderly man enters, gracefully walking with measured and precise steps toward the throne. Queen Frederica gives him a stern look, takes note of his presence, and eagerly excuses herself from the other prominent figures.

He is a striking figure with a regal appearance. He wears a royal purple ducal bonnet hat that matches his robes, giving him a noble demeanor. Despite his age, he remains slender, suggesting a lifetime of discipline and self-control. He has a white foot-long beard neatly trimmed to a point, sitting in front of the top of his abdomen. His most striking feature, however, is his purple irises, which seem to emit a slight glowing aura that only adds to his magical and mysterious nature.

Moving toward one of the grand windows in the throne room, Queen Frederica quietly jests with her old friend. “Oleras, you old cod, what can I do for you? I suspect everything is in order?”

In response, he gently nods and, in an equally quiet and reserved tone, informs her, “Everything is in place, and the summoning will take place at first light.”

Looking rather pleased with the update, Queen Frederica smiles for the first time since engaging in this cabinet meeting, “That is very excellent news indeed. Everything is right on schedule. How many do you think you can muster this time around?”

“Well, I have prepared the chambers for seven.” He proudly replies, knowing she will be even more pleased with the news.

“Seven?” She inquires in disbelief, understanding the complex nature of the undertaking they are engaged in. Drawing open one of the curtains in front of her, she stares out at the castle’s exterior as the setting sun's light hits her face with its warm glow. As the light continues to wane, her thoughts drift to a time long past, a time when her world was yet to be burdened with the weight of leadership:

It was the first time she saw anyone from another world. She was merely ten years old, not even reaching her first eon when Oleras had just initiated his first summoning of realm-jumpers. She recalls her mother’s throne room was abuzz with excitement and uncertainty.

Among the first and last realm-jumpers to be summoned by their Royal House, there were only three, a man named Jr., a teenager named Tsu, and the oldest of the three, a man named Narahiko. The first, Jr., stood out in a way the others did not. While Tsu and Narahiko appeared similar, Jr. looked much more differently than them. Everything from their hair color and eye shape down to their skin tone and muscle mass were different. Their only similarity was they all spoke the same language. However, it was like comparing a dwarf and a halfling with their appearance, close but still different enough.

As her thoughts weave through the memories of them, the image of Jr. takes center stage. Back then, he had become like an older brother to her, and she could vividly recall his first steps into their world, his wide-eyed curiosity, and the earnest look in his eyes.

Her memory unfolds further: Each of the realm-jumpers had received and channeled their gifts that day. Like her and many other nobles in this world, they could use magic. However, unlike Oleras, they couldn’t conjure spells from any of the schools of magic, as she and the realm-jumpers could only use basic magic from one of the four schools, limited by what their gifts had given them. Jr. was a Pyroember, Tsu had been a Shatterer, and Narahiko was once a Seer.

Her mother had permitted her to travel with them as they trained and traveled the world in those days. In the center of those travels was Kal, a disowned knight from a rival Royal House. His silhouette occupies her thoughts with a sweetness that rekindled their lost affection; he was, after all, her first and only love. Their relationship had been a whirlwind of youthful passion and if all went according to plan, then she would have been his wife.

However, dwelling on her first love naturally led her thoughts to drift toward Alethea, the Capital saintly nun who had stolen him away from her. Her aura becomes bitter as her mind drifts to the complexities of her emotions regarding and surrounding the nun. She can’t help but recall how Alethea’s presence back then didn't bother her. Still, her presence in her mind brings every negative emotion to bear.

The conflicting memories of these two individuals– Kal, the embodiment of her lost love, and Alethea, the harbinger of her bitterness– color her recollections with intricate layers of emotion. Such bitterness has become rather apparent on her face as the intuitive Oleras inquires, “Your Majesty, is everything alright?” bringing her back to the present. Feigning a smile, she nods in reply, still pondering what the old cod could remember of the days when they used to travel the Empire before the world's worries entirely became her responsibility.

Able to read her emotions like a book, he gives her a concerned look. Doing her best to put such thoughts to bed, she excuses herself from the throne room and bids Oleras and the other staff present farewell. Departing the throne room, she strolls the familiar path around the castle, spending the remainder of the day wandering the halls until she comes to a part of the castle that rarely sees any foot traffic.

Taking a moment and still unable to shake the feelings of the memories, she decides these thoughts of times passed have made her want to visit an old friend. One she hasn’t spoken to in the last eon or so. Turning, she stares at an old, imposing doorway and approaches it.

As the guard slowly opens the grand, creaking doors leading into the ominous and cold dungeon, flickering torchlight spills into the corridor, casting an eerie, wavering glow which dances along the rough-hewn stone walls. The scent of dampness and age hangs heavily in the air, greeting her arrival.

Queen Frederica steps forward into the dungeon, conveying an undeniable aura of authority. Her presence starkly contrasts her surroundings as she guides herself down into the forsaken chamber.

The journey down the narrow corridor feels like an expedition into the bowels of a musty, damp hell. The shadows deepen as the temperature drops significantly, the only thing to keep the lone prisoner subdued. Her heels resound with a steady, echoing cadence, a reminder she treads where few ever dare to venture.

At last, the corridor opens into the large chamber where the sole prisoner is kept encaged behind colossal iron bars. The light in this chamber is dim and cold, casting a somber ambiance upon the surroundings. Queen Frederica halts momentarily, the torchlight flickering across her regal visage, casting an ethereal glow in her eyes.

Within the cell, a lone figure sits in the center of the room, where the only light dares to shine. They remain still, radiating a cold and quiet aura, maintaining an unwavering gaze upon the back end of their cell, ignoring the approaching monarch.

As she approaches the iron bars, Queen Frederica stares at the figure’s physical form, revealing the immense toll of their long confinement– a gaunt silhouette with sunken features and pale, almost translucent skin. There is stiffness in their movements, if any, and the fragile, almost skeletal appearance tells a silent tale of endurance, marking the passage of time within the unforgiving confines of their cell.

Ensuring he is awake, she clears her throat to address the frail man: “It has been a long time, big brother.” She looks around the cell and notes there appear to have been no signs of struggles, no markings upon the stones, and no weakening of the metal bars. Even after all these years, he hasn’t attempted to escape from here, not once. It seems he has just sat there, nearly unmoving except for his meals.

In response to her greeting, he remains still and silent in his desolate resolve, refusing to acknowledge her presence with a gaze or motion.

“Come on, Jr., after all this time, don’t be like that.” She says, her voice carrying a drop of hope and laced with regret and disappointment. But Jr. remains unyielding, his gaze focused somewhere far beyond the confines of his cage. With a sigh, she continues, her words carrying the weight of their shared past. “It doesn’t have to be like this. What is in the past is in the past. Kal and the others are gone, and there is nothing we can do to bring them back.”

Receiving the same response of unbroken silence leaves Queen Frederica alone to grapple with the unyielding mystery of his resolve, pondering the past and how they both ended up where they are now. Raising her hand to gently touch the iron bars, a faint reflection of her vulnerability in the otherwise impenetrable aura that surrounds her.

“Jr., be reasonable. We can make things right. The old cod is performing another summoning, and you are the only one here who understands the complexity of how well the realm-jumpers will adjust to life here.” She informs him as she looks between the bars and sees him remaining still and unmoving.

For as long as she has been a monarch, no one has ever dared to blatantly ignore her, and of all the people who could have done so, this one hurts the most. What little patience she has left for him becomes thin as he remains obstinately silent. With her voice trembling on the edge between sorrow and anger, she continues an unpleasant bitterness now tainting her words.

Coldly, she states, “I’ve protected you.” her temper continues to rise, “You are only alive because I said so! Do you think you can just hide away inside here forever? Kal and the others brought their downfall upon themselves! They were traitors, architects of their own demise!” Taking in a few deep breaths before continuing to berate him. “We offered you guidance, a chance to see the truth and act on it, but you chose your path, as they did theirs. If it wasn’t for me, you’d have been executed alongside them, or worse still rotting away in Blackwall Prison!” Her words now leave a harsh yet impassioned taste in the air.

Calming her demeanor before she continues to speak, she turns her back on him and states. “And now, we offer another chance to act on the truth. Oleras may be bringing more from your world, but it doesn’t change anything. If they act the same as you three did, they’ll meet the same end. It’s up to you, Jr., if you don’t want their blood on your conscience, you’ll help them see the truth and spare them from that fate.”

Frustration again surges through her as his impassivity persists. She clenches her fist, her face twisting in anger. “Damn it, Jr.! I won’t stand here and watch you wallow in this self-inflicted torment. If you won’t act, then you are condemning yourself to rot in this miserable place!”

With that, Queen Frederica whirls around and storms away from the cell, her footsteps echoing through the dungeon. Her final words, a furious declaration, still ineffective on the unyielding Jr. “Rot here, then! Rot in this place you’ve chosen!”

As she storms off from her adoptive brother’s cell, she suddenly finds herself far enough from him that her furious words can no longer reach him. At this moment, she’s finally alone with her thoughts away from the judgment of her guards and servants, but most importantly, away from him, one of only two men whose opinions ever truly mattered to her.

Tears well up in her eyes, and she trembles with sorrow, anger, and frustration. The weight of their past together, the adventures he would take her on with the others. The choices they had all made came crashing down at a very trying time in the Empire’s history. Leaning against a cold, damp wall, her regal facade crumbles as it all overtakes her.

Unseen by anyone, she begins to truly weep, her sobs echoing through the dungeon’s somber passages. Her tears are a torrent of emotion, a painful release of the burdens she’s been carrying all these years. It’s a catharsis, a moment of vulnerability very few have ever witnessed from their stoic and imposing Queen. For a few minutes, she allows herself to grieve in solitude, bearing the heavy weight of her past actions and the consequences they’ve wrought.

Not only do the cold, unfeeling stones of the dungeon bear witness to her raw and unrestrained sorrow, but near one of the corners, a singular ghost watches, unsure what exactly could have come over the Queen. Having his fill, the ball of light drifts away, knowing full well his friend, the Soulsinger, Ilina, would be curious about what he has just observed. For as much as he knows, she has never seen her Aunt in this manner before and may find it as intriguing as he does.

Back in his cell, Jr. remains silent. As he thinks about his old friend’s words, a subtle and knowing smile plays upon his lips. It is a smile that dances with anticipation, revealing a mischievous glint in his orange eyes. Looking down at the dancing flame rune on his left wrist, a fire begins stoking within him. A glowing aura overtakes his eyes as he now knows it is only a matter of time. Soon enough, he shall have his day.