[Mid-Morning]

[MOORSPEAK - Imperial Castle - Audience Chambers]

-- His Royal Highness..Prince Alexander DuMont of the Southern Kingdom..

****

Everything around him felt distant, far off. As though he were a spectre high above observing. 

Yet he was most present. 

In a large hall, surrounded by many eyes, the lord of the chamber, adorned in official robes, addressed him highly yet with much disdain. 

In silence, Alex awaited the welcomed sentence of his own death. 

-- ..You are brought before His Eminence to give answer for… 

Before the Emperor, he stood. 

Though being a prisoner, some semblance of dignity was afforded him. 

Were he made to kneel, Alex resolved prior in wickedly denying the pleasure of everyone. 

--..by you and your people… 

Animalistic and crude. 

Dragging and flailing. 

Refusing to be silent. 

Resisting till the very end, he resolved to be.

--..receive judgement in accordance with the laws governing our….

However, at present, he found that he had neither the strength nor the will to give opposition. It was a pity.

The northerners were denied a fantastic southern display.

-- Are my words understood?

Alex: …yes.

After this simple response, murmurs circled the hall. Growing louder with each passing second.

Uncertain as to what he agreed to; the imposing ruler raised before him, Alex chose instead to inspect the floor at his feet. 

Ignoring as best he could, those eyes from above and the many whispered words heard all around him.

To his master, the lord gracefully bowed low and said

-- ..Your Eminence.

And immediately, a hush fell. 

No one bristled about. 

In fact, everyone; in great anticipation of the Emperor’s words, listened intently, barely taking breath.  Their eyes all trained upon him. 

And he was heard to surprisingly say

Emperor: You saved the lives of many men.

Alex: …

Emperor: I have been apprised of your role in devising the black arrow’s antitoxin. That you, a southerner, considered my subjects kindly and showed particular care to such afflicted. Is this indeed so?

The sovereign's praises came unexpectedly to Alex. 

His words, tender and tone, kind. 

Chancing a glance, Alex considered him. 

Still, he chose to remain silent. Not out of spite but for caution’s sake. 

And that silence lingered.

To speak, the opportunity eventually lost, as the Emperor questioned

Emperor: The one to devise it, your king- Was it not? 

Alex: …yes.

To one corner, someone shifted in agitation. Possibly displeased by his little words and seemingly clear contempt. 

Emperor: By your hands- Lives saved. And by those same hands...   

Alex: …

Emperor: ..With thoughts of blood, you found still to fulfil that which you were sent, did you not? To claim lives on the battlefield- as many possible. Your enemies. My people. 

In that moment, whatsoever pleasant air wafted through with sunshine into the hall, swiftly vanished. For the atmosphere turned heavy by the Emperor’s powerful words. 

Emperor: An attempt, years ago, to establish an accord between us was made. Your late king and I.

Alex: ….

Emperor: Had he yielded, you would not be here before me to receive judgement of any kind. And the walls of my city would not be dripping with the blood of my people.

Yet,..here we are, young prince.

Yes, indeed here they were. 

However, at His words, Alex was reminded of his brother and thought

{‘Had he yielded?’ Brother? Never.} 

He scoffed.

Alex knew his brother. 

And him yielding to anyone's demands, save for their father, was never, ever possible. Especially not so for the ruler of a kingdom with which there was a long standing enmity. 

(Of his many years imprisoned, and its reasoning behind it, this thought would later present itself once more.)

Emperor: Though I had sincerely hoped to meet, your king however, chose instead to prepare and embark on war than to have a civilised discourse. 

Alex: …

Emperor: The cries from my people are great and I must listen. They call for the deaths of your remaining men. 

Alex: …

Emperor: And you- they call also for your life- your head. Shall I grant their requests?

By next morning, in their city’s square, with much cheer, clapping and nary a tear (save in fury), they would assemble and wail at the top of their voices, calling for his head. 

With the southern king already dead, the northerners would cry to obtain an object for their hatred. To place in Alex such. 

Their desire would overturn reason. And their appetite for revenge would sparsely be quelled, even with the last captured southerner’s blood pooling and reaching their knees.

His heart’s sorrow consumed him. 

If this was the end, there was nothing more to be done. Besides, the certain promise of death would finally bring solace.

Alex: A southerner am I.. 

Emperor: …

Alex: ..and with a southern heart I accept my punishment. Doom me to death. I am not afraid.

Understanding the prince, His Majesty nodded. 

Knowing fully that any and all those of the south in the prince’s position, would too state boldly the same. 

However, in response the Emperor said

Emperor: No. 

Alex: …

Emperor: Fear resides in us all.

The Emperor then briefly turned his attention away. 

Someone approached Alex, handing him a small box, a chest.

Emperor: You do not appear to share the same capricious temperament as your brother did. Have I spoken true or not?

Alex: ….

He wondered what was inside. It bore more weight than one would expect. 

And before he could open the chest..

Emperor: Resting safely within that chest, are the remains of your fallen king.

Immediately, Alex's eyes glistened over. 

In trembling arms he drew the chest close, hugging the box as if keeping it warm. 

Emperor: See now, enough blood has been shed. Do you not agree, Prince DuMont?

And Alex heard himself say, his voice quite unsteady

Alex: I agree, yes. 

Emperor: ..Though I believe forgiveness must begin and mercy shown- Punishment for the deeds of your people is but a requirement however, and needs to be exacted.

Alex: …

Emperor: So young prince, ..my judgement upon you is this..

****

***

**

*

****

To one corner, he would constantly sit. Self confinement.

The to and fro of the ship gently rocking him as a babe in a cradle. 

Over the weeks, he spent his alone time with a small chest. Opened upon his lap, he again observed its contents. 

The box; lined with purple, contained five rings, each different in design. 

One; similar to that of Damian’s, of onyx and gold, along with an amulet fastened to a string. The wearer possibly donned the dark coloured stone for its supposed protective abilities and yet, as it did many others, it failed him. 

And now, its owner’s remains laid beside it. 

Iridescence black. 

Similar to the night’s sky, a simple designed urn sparkled. Twinkling within itself; its pearl coating cool to the touch.

**

‘..Of the north, its ruler forever held captive prisoners of war. In death, your only escape. 

Therefore, serve your King well and die well.’ 

So Alex was taught. 

(-- There are exceptions. His Majesty pardons prisoners every year.)

**

A decree read aloud held everyone’s attention.

Finding the deeds done in servitude to His Majesty’s subjects, an act of selflessness. 

Free from the prejudice known to man’s heart; especially so in times of war, actions of mercy yet met with the preserving of multiple lives not of the prince’s blood. 

For such, a life for a life was granted. 

And thus, Prince Alexander DuMont of the Southern Kingdom, found himself pardoned.

What was more, mercy shown towards many of his kin. 

And so, to their homeland; along with him and their king’s ashes, they were sent.

**

Entirely worn from his solitary mourning these past long weeks, there was nothing left within him. 

Yet still, each and everyday, he tasked himself to care for the many injured and gravely wounded returning home with him. 

It busied and eased the mind. 

Even so, his heart remained frozen in grief.

Unexpectedly, a loud horn sounded on the ship.

Having long exhausted their allotted medicinal supplies, it would be little time now before his people began dying out one by one, never to see home again.

{Land?}

His hand lingered atop the chest. 

He closed it and in his arms it remained as he trudged towards the nearest porthole.

From crystal turquoise and azure to deep sapphire and royal, the blue sea bore them along. 

Undulating and mesmerising, the waters danced. Foams of white bubbled against the ship, leaving a trail behind before calmly rejoining the wide expanse.

Recalling the first time having seen the view; a prisoner of the north was he, never did he know that the sea could be the same as the sky. For the southern kingdom’s Black Sea was just that. 

Neither did he know that for many years to come, he should only see a sliver of that blue sky.

And now, while the ocean view indeed entranced him, its beauty was lost after the many days upon days and even more days of seeing it. 

Alex longed to see land. To finally see home.

Swaying from the ship’s movement, he spoke to the chest in his light embrace saying 

Alex: We’re almost there. We’re almost home, brother

He was about to open the chest and view its contents once more, when someone knocked on the door’s frame. 

-- Pardon me.., Your Highness?

Alex: ..Yes? What is it?

**

**

Several of the Empire’s men were also aboard. 

They, observing him each and every time he moved about the ship, demanded to know where to he went. 

After many weeks of this, eventually, they tired of such. 

Perhaps realising that there were limited places one could venture aboard a ship and that he and his wounded men were outnumbered in strength, posing no threat. 

He departed his cabin now, unhindered, toward a much frequented room. 

Alex: ..Cyrus?

Over the weeks, stories of his youth and of his close bond with the Crown Prince and even his father, Cyrus enthusiastically shared. 

He recalled events so detailed, Alex believed himself there.

***

[Evening]

[West of the mainland - Shining Sea -]

(East and outside of the city’s walls, with sparsely drawn tree-like images and semicircles to indicate its hilly terrain.)

(The area was called ‘Arden’.)

Roman: There are others I may rely on to accomplish this but none whom I may fully trust, lest I myself carry it out..

Cyrus: …

Roman: Can I ask this of you?

Cyrus: Most certainly, Your Majesty. Yes.

(He confidently stated, though he knew not what his task may entail)

Cyrus: But…may I ask, what is the one condition?

Roman: Are you afraid of what I am to demand of you?

Cyrus: Quite

(Once more, Roman chuckled.)

(And it warmed his cousin’s heart to see him this way in spite of everything.)

(Still, though, sadness appeared there. Or perhaps it was simply exhaustion. Whichever, it showed in his slumped shoulders and in the heaviness of his steps.)

(Over the desk he now stood, pondering in long silence, leaving Cyrus to anxiously await his orders.)

**

(For the moment, Roman spoke nothing more of his secret demands, and gave attention only toward the tabletop map and the task at hand.)

(It being an exact replica of the map handed to him, only scaled much larger.)

(He stood at Cyrus’ back, a hand upon his shoulder and continued)

Roman: We will take hold of the coast and push further inland- towards the city- where they intend to move Alex- Here..

(He explained pointing to a location marked as ‘Moorspeak’.)

Roman: ..within the walls- but I shan’t wait till then. I have waited long enough now. After we have decisively taken hold of the mainland’s coast, you are to leave off for here- to this place.. 

(And Cyrus saw that it was the same circled area called ‘Arden’ on the smaller map handed to him.) 

(From the coast to the circled area appeared some distance away and therefore meant he would have to stealthily move through unknown territory, avoiding large villages and towns as best he could. The journey could take months.)

Roman: Along with a few others I trust well enough- Scout the area first. That snake intends to have his men in wait there. Find them and send word back to me. I shall make my way to you afterwards.

Cyrus: …

Roman: Move when they move- otherwise, remain unseen. 

Cyrus: Yes, Your Majesty..

(He observed his king closely.)

(Warmly lit by the lamp, his eyes determined- the self-assured prince he knew. Yet still..)

(Sensing his cousin had a question, the golden light glinted in his dark eyes as he turned to face Cyrus.)

Cyrus: ..Pardon me, my king..

(Uncertainty moved within him. And as doubts formed questions, he asked one) 

Cyrus: Should the snake’s men capture the young prince before our arrival, what then? 

Roman: Should that occur, then the messenger shall greet them along their homeward journey.

(Understanding fully, he gave a sharp nod and replied as such, assured now by his cousin’s plans)

Roman: And as for you..

(Cyrus shrank in anticipation.)

(Swallowing hard, he focused upon the king, afraid of what he would next hear.)

Roman: ..after all is accomplished and Alex is safely aboard this ship, you, stubborn brother of mine..

(He said with a sly smile)

Roman: ..shall no longer serve me or the people as you now do. No longer shall you be called ‘General’. For you are to return home and live the rest of your days in tranquil peace with your family.

(Cyrus, ready to refuse the order, chose to remain silent.)

Roman: Am I clearly understood this time, Cyrus?

(His lips began to quiver, so he quickly lowered his head and humbly replied)

Cyrus: Yes, Your Majesty

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FORGIVENESS cont'd ----->