Life on a Line
It wasn’t as though he intended to escape in the first place. That would defeat the entire purpose of his voluntary capture. He knew the risks, but with the letter giving him that straightforward a warning, it put Xiv a little on edge.
He made it to the outpost. A knight—younger than the one who delivered the summons—greeted him with an Iristan salute as soon as he reached the entrance. He returned his own in kind.
“I’m Xiv Arcturus,” he began and relaxed his posture. “I received summons from the Princess and was told to meet her here.”
“Please wait inside,” the young knight replied and opened the small gate of the outpost. “Thank you for being on time. I will call for the Princess.”
Inside, Xiv met the only other knight in the outpost, the older one who had delivered the summons earlier. The fellow gave an affirmative nod and gestured towards the chair.
“You enjoy alcohol, young man?” he asked, reaching for a bottle from a nearby meiyal-crafted cooling shelf.
“Not during the day, no,” Xiv humbly declined as he sat on the appointed chair.
“Boldrik,” the knight introduced himself and poured the wine bottle on a fresh cup, insisting. “You’ll have to drink entire barrels of this to get drunk. It’s a casual drink, you’ll only feel a fizz and nothing more.”
Afraid to raise any unnecessary suspicions, Xiv placed his basket on the only table beside him—careful enough not to mess up the paper work Boldrik was working on—took the cup, and drank. The sweet taste of fruit mixed with the subtle spirits went straight down his gullet. It’s chilly sensation quickly shifted to a comfortable warmth. Xiv had never drank anything like it.
It was exemplary.
“Knew you’d like it,” Boldrik smirked after noticing the fascination on Xiv’s face. “These ones never make it outside Irista Nation; too in demand for their lightness and Minaveil has too many other things to grow and produce to exceed those demands. Enjoy the bottle and wait here. I’ll be just outside.”
The Vyndivalian felt conflicted as he was left alone in his thoughts. This was a drink worthy of a Lord Knight, if he was to weigh in his opinion at all. And the implication that these bottles were produced in this very province—a long way away from the capital, let alone the High Palace—while generating so much demand it could never be sold outside the country, just made him realize how well-off Irista Nation was compared to his homeland. He had never savored something so profound with flavors and yet so casually given away.
He refilled his cup and drank slower, letting his tastebuds savor the intricacies of the drink. He wished he had someone to share it with. Someone close, someone familiar.
He thought of Dystro and his antics. That all-too-familiar Lord Knight had been given such a vague mission; too covert for the war. Xiv was sure he was involved in King Urzic’s sinister plan—no, that plan belonged to someone else.
Regardless, whether Dystro survived or not, Xiv wasn’t sure. He hoped for him a better fate and wished he was here to enjoy this drink together.
Then there was Frill, the Aria in Red, or at least that was what Bennie proudly called her. She was all the girl ever talked about during her visits. Not that Xiv minded one bit. Last time, the girl had spoken of Frill’s sister, Liona, and their plans to visit Central for her burning. Xiv’s mind raced at the thought.
He knew the plan.
He knew what would happen next.
And he knew he had to warn them.
Halfway through the bottle, Xiv began to wonder if the hour had passed and if the Princess had changed her mind. Then, the door opened. Xiv finished his cup and dispersed any of his lingering thoughts, directing his full attention at the people in front of the door.
Two people, a girl and a man. The man was well built, but was rather on the slim side in terms of muscle content. He was built for speed rather than barbaric strength. He wore an odd tunic, long sleeves with a weird writing in the middle.
Xiv knew Iristan letters did not deviate from the Brymeian Common much like the Vyndivalian language, yet the symbols were extremely foreign. A foreigner beyond Forimeyn? But beings across the Nightmare Lands were rare and did not resemble a form similar to a normal person coming from this continent. Lynera and the felintine were examples of that. But this man, in his odd clothing, resembled features so close to Iristan, the small meiyal core on his right wrist gave it away.
The Visitor.
“Let’s talk outside, Xiv.”
Xiv was so absorbed by the Visitor, he almost forgot the girl’s presence up until she spoke. Short, petite, blue hair. She wore a casual Iristan-themed tunic and skirt and was all the Iristan Xiv knew. Her dark blue eyes glared like well-handled spears. It wasn’t potent, but he could feel a demanding presence about her. Without a doubt, this could only be Kristel Irista, the First Princess of Irista Nation.
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“Get up,” she said.
A sudden compelling force urged Xiv obey. He was half kneeling and half standing when he regained control.
Monarch’s Law? No. He would be already standing fully if it were. Then what was it? Xiv slowly rose to his feet, never really finding an answer. He decided to wait for another chance to make sure.
“Bring the bottle with you if you want but leave the basket for now,” Kristel said.
There was nothing this time. No urge to obey. The two started heading outside. Xiv stayed, wanting to confirm. She might use it this time if he refused to follow.
Kristel turned, irritated. “I don’t have all afternoon, Vyndivalian. The sun’s going down and I have a lot of work to do tonight. Let’s not play games.” She placed both hands on her waist, probably to look wider and more intimidating. No success there, but she did look adorable trying; Xiv admitted despite himself.
“Why don’t you use your Monarch’s Law?” he provoked. People like him who held valuable information and tremendous fighting prowess were irreplaceable assets and were deeply coveted by those who could use the Monarch’s Law. Xiv would rather cut corners and know right away if he could repel her rather than be caught off guard.
“I don’t have the Monarch’s Law. And why would I use it on you?” Kristel stomped into the room and pressed a finger over his chest. “It doesn’t work on loyal soldiers and it doesn’t work the way you were meant to believe.”
“What do you mean?” Xiv always thought the Monarch’s Law allowed the wielder to issue commands and demand loyalty from lesser subjects who were unable to repel its power. At least that was the common knowledge of it. It was the sole reason why lots of great soldiers tended to be well kept by the royalty. If it didn’t work that way, then how?
“I believe you’re supposed to be answering my questions. Now follow.” Kristel turned once again, much to Xiv’s disappointment. He was left no other choice but to obey.
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“What’s the Monarch’s Law?” Frein asked as they walked outside the outpost with the prisoner a safe distance behind them. The outpost had a small courtyard behind it surrounded by high stone walls.
“One of the Ten Blessings of Brymeia,” Kristel answered. “They say those who wield the Monarch’s Law can command others to do their bidding, but in reality, the way it works isn’t that simple.”
“How so?” Frein peeked a curious eye at the prisoner. Frein wasn’t exactly sure if he could call the guy, treated with so much leisure, a prisoner. He decided to just refer to him by name from now on.
Xiv stared at the floor as he walked, no indications of eavesdropping. He was too far away to hear their whispers anyway. They took the long way around the outpost and into the courtyard.
“Why does he think you have it?” he added before Kristel could answer.
“The Monarch’s Law manipulates the subject’s admiration or interest towards the Blessed One. Wordings must be precise and it requires a considerable amount of meiyal. The longer the command needs to last, the harder it is to achieve, and depending on the subject’s willingness, the stronger the Blessed One must be. At the very least, it’s impossible to command someone to be eternally loyal, fall in love, or to take their own lives. Someone who doesn’t have even the tiniest bit of interest or desire to follow is essentially immune to it.”
“That’s still an abusable power.” Frein was glad for the information. He wouldn’t want to be caught unaware by someone who possessed such an unfair power.
“Not really,” Kristel sighed. “The Monarch’s Law tends to work less and less to the same subject if they’re given taxing commands, or if they’re unwilling. So, the real problems are those who know exactly when and how to use it. King Urzic is especially Blessed. His charisma alone provided him enough leverage to be a king at such a young age, but since Vyndival is in a crisis, even he had to use the Monarch’s Law and possibly every bit of his meiyal to convince all those soldiers to fight for him. I doubt he could do it again, at least not for the same reason and not right away. It’s the same reason why he couldn’t fight us.”
Frein had asked the Princess the reason behind Vyndival’s war against Irista Nation a day after the siege. They knew Vyndival was in a crisis, there had been small groups of defects and refugees that crossed the harsh desert of the Desolate Lands and surrendered to Iristan patrols when they were found trying to smuggle their way in through Mount Rindea. Authorities had denied them passage publicly. Monarch Denis even sent a decree that forced Kristel’s hand to refuse any immigrants trying to flee Vyndival.
The Princess had asked them about the crisis in their kingdom, but no one wanted to talk, especially when they were refused any help. Kristel couldn’t blame them. She deported those that couldn’t be secretly accepted—people with the slightest indications of being a spy—back to the Desolate Lands with a heavy heart.
Xiv was a different case. He was a war prisoner, not an immigrant. A loophole the Princess willingly exploited.
Frein had believed her story to be true; there were no lies in Kristel’s eyes. He would even go as far as to think that the Princess had wanted to talk to someone about it for the longest time. Vyndival’s actions needed explanation. Now that an opportunity had presented itself, he knew the Princess would do her best to extract that information from Xiv.
And while they were at the subject of getting helpful knowledge, Frein wanted to take the most out of what he could get.
“So, you don’t have it, then?”
“No.”
“And how do I resist those that have it?” They arrived at the clearing. The setting sun lined over the mountains and the moons began to appear, providing an enchanting display in the open field.
“There’s a trick to it.” Kristel smiled as she whispered. “Not a hundred percent reliable, mind you. When you meet someone, just decide right away if you’re willing to follow them or not.”
“How would I know if they’re using the Monarch’s Law on me or not?” They settled in the middle of the clearing, waiting for Xiv still quite a distance away. A knight walked right behind him just in case.
“You’ll know when you experience it, Frein.” Kristel’s face was stern, frowning mildly. “It’s not pleasant at all.”
“Last question.” He started as the prisoner slowly closed the distance. “Why am I here again?”
“You’re a good judge of character. Maybe you can help.”
“Help with?”
“Getting this guy to speak.”
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