Vala sat on her bed, her sword in her hands as she ran her fingers up and down the flat of the perfectly forged weapon. She tried to imagine how the blade would look with the glimmering of the night sky imprinted upon it. You will be among those stars, won't you, my love? Guide my blade and my powers. We will strike our enemies down. And then… Vala's mind went blank. What would she do after she avenged Wystan? She considered for a moment joining him along the stars, but shook the thought. You would not want that for me, would you?
She jumped as she heard knocking on her door, her mother's voice on the other side. “Vala, come. It's time you rejoined your father's court. After all, there are the legal matters of handling Wystan's assets to handle, as well as planning a date for his cremation.” She paused for a moment, “I understand your grief, but you are the heir to the throne. Grief cannot be an obstacle to your duties.”
Vala replied quietly, “Coming, mother. Give me a moment.” She carefully placed her sword back beneath her bed, checking once, then twice, to make sure it was well hidden. She opened her door and peered down the hallway, spotting Gytha already walking back down towards the throne room. Vala took one last glance towards her bed before following as she fixed her golden hair and adjusted her crown upon her head.
The throne room was a grand, yet simple hall. Large stone pillars held up a painted roof filled with the faces of every king and queen of Fosilux along with illustrations of some of their greatest triumphs. Red banners with the symbol of a black boar's head on top of two crossed spears adorned each of the polished dark oak walls. King Varden sat on his iron throne, his hands resting on the armrests as he waited for his daughter. As Vala came into view, he rose, announcing to the small gathering of nobles, “All rise, and hail my daughter, Princess Vala, who is joining us at last, after over a week of grieving. Let us now join her in this moment of great loss.” All around the great hall, nobles rose and nodded their greetings towards their future queen before bowing their heads. Vala noticed several of the younger noblemen attempting to stealthily gaze upon her and, much to her disgust, more than a few of the older ones as well.
Varden paused a few moments and then nodded silently before taking his seat, Gytha following his example and seating herself in his throne's twin at his right side while Vala seated herself in the simpler granite chair on his left. As everyone settled into their seats, Varden began, “Now, my friends, let us decide how to best honor our deceased warrior. I propose—”
The great doors to the hall burst open violently as Alden, the great battlemaster of Manton, stormed inside, the scar on his left cheek glinting red with a dark rage, “Who was it?! Who dared to murder my baby brother?! I want his head now!” His eyes wandered the room before settling upon the shroud covering Wystan's body. He walked slowly, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, as he beheld the harrowing sight. “Wystan…you were just a child still…”
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Varden stepped down from his throne and walked towards the large warrior, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I am sorry, old friend. Wystan was an honorable man. I promise, I am doing all that I can in order to find his killer and bring him to justice.” Alden ignored his king and continued towards the shroud, uncovering it and kneeling before the corpse of his brother. He whispered a few words before drawing a large knife from his belt along with a small vial with a string tied around it and sliced a line across Wystan's broken face. Dark blood oozed from the opening as the battlemaster collected it. Vala's eyes widened in recognition. Wystan always carried two vials of blood with him. I never thought much of it. Alden finished his task and fixed the vial on his belt next to two nearly identical other ones, though the blood in them seemed quite a bit older and dried out, solidified over what was probably years.
Vala caught Alden's eyes, an exchange of grief shared between the two, before the large man shuffled over to take his place near the front of the hall. A few of the nearby noblemen and women whispered to him with expressions of sympathy as he simply nodded and stared forward, his eyes never leaving the shroud. Varden returned to his throne and began discussing the logistics of a proper ceremony. What food to bring? What music to play? Should it be in celebration of his accomplishments or in lamentation of a life that was cut much too short? All pointless! My Wystan lies dead and all they can speak of is how to throw a party instead of preparing for vengeance! Vala clenched her fists and struggled to control her breathing as the discussion trudged onwards for hours.
She lay in her bed later that night, tossing and turning restlessly. Berta had told her to wait till the next day to come visit her again, but she could bear it no longer. Every moment I waste here means I'll be less prepared to kill that bastard! She growled and sat upright. Berta may not teach me tonight, but I don't need her! I'll kill him with my bare hands if I must! She jumped out of her bed, a bit more aggressively than she meant to, and held her breath as she listened for the guard. After several moments of silence, she breathed a sigh of relief and gathered her sword from beneath her bed along with her cloak, concealing the blade within it. Sneaking out of the castle, much like she had the previous night, she made her way towards the training grounds.
She unclasped her cloak and set it neatly aside before drawing the sword, the steel glistening in the moonlight. She stood at long point, her feet spread widely for balance, as she executed thrust after thrust into the straw dummy before her, each time envisioning her enemy's blood spilling all over the sand. She then shifted into a high guard and delivered a series of cuts. She heard a voice behind her, “Seems my brother taught you well.” She jumped, nearly dropping the sword as she turned around to see Alden.
“What are you doing here, Alden?” She replied.
“Same as you, I suppose,” Alden said as he drew his sword, resting it on his shoulder, “Though I expected to be alone. Better that you're here, at least then I'll have someone to spar with.”
Vala smiled slightly, “Yes. With your help, I can gut the bastard who slew my Wystan!”
Alden's eyes watered slightly at the mention of his brother's name and placed a hand on the princess's shoulder, “I would have been honored to have a sister like you.”
Vala embraced him gently, “Wystan may be no more, but he still binds us. I am honored to be your sister.”
“Wystan spoke very highly of you. The way he would keep rambling about you…I'm sure even the Maker has never been worshiped in such a manner,” Alden chuckled softly. “Come then, sister. Let us prepare you, shall we?”