Sybil Palemarrow’s official arrival to Ruinsforth was an event marked by the ghostly citizens of the Reflection Kingdom all floating over to the city’s main gate. The ordeal created a wake of movement, as citizens and tourists alike followed, much to the guard’s annoyance.
Like dozens of fish being packed into a can, the city moved as one down the main street. They clambered over one another to get a better view, hardened adventurers getting elbowed out by grannies like they were tyrannical empresses or nobles shunned away by ratty children. Everyone was equal in the moments leading up to Sybil’s entrance, as the risk of ticking off the wrong person was heavily outweighed by the rumors.
Locking eyes with the youngest of the Palemarrows was said to pass on the good fortune of the Queen herself.
Where this myth came from? Leland didn’t know. He had locked eyes with Sybil several times at this point and he would not consider his luck to have increased. But then again, citizens were often bored and loved to gossip, so who truly knew?
Jude used his larger frame to secure a spot for Leland and Glenny, making use of his armor that radiated cold like one’s breath in winter. Which was unfortunate for Leland, as his mage robes didn’t help all that much against the cold. Glenny on the other hand? He didn’t mind one bit, his armor absorbing all semblance of the cold.
“So is this it?” Jude finally asked after an hour of just standing around near the front gates.
Leland scratched his head, eying the Reflections floating through the air. They were the ones who signaled the start of the true festival, yet they weren’t even paying attention to the gates. Sybil’s arrival was imminent but the ghosts were dancing with one another, throwing off-blue globs of ghostliness at one another like snowballs, or entertaining themselves by mocking the crowd like a jester in a tavern.
“That is a good question,” Leland eventually whispered back. “But my dad said it was going to suddenly start this year, a precaution as I understood.”
Glenny added to that, “My dad has been cagy since yesterday morning. He’s very paranoid.”
“Or scared,” Jude muttered.
“Or scared, yeah.” Glenny frowned, mentally forcing a shadowy tendril leading off of his cloak back. It was trying to drink the shadow of a woman standing next to him. “In other news, Harlen’s treatments have been going well.”
“Oh? You always just look as if you are sleeping,” Leland said, blowing air out of his mouth in controlled bursts to repel the flies buzzing around his face. If there was one thing about Ruinsforth he hated, it was the musk from the city’s adventurer population.
“It’s much more than just sleeping, albeit I do always feel as if I received a good night’s rest.” Glenny nodded toward the nearest Reflection, a man floating through the air playing a ghostly violin. “Notice how all of their eyes are solid white?”
“Are they?” Jude asked. “I thought they were more of an eggshell.”
The others stared at him.
Jude continued, “Like my dad always said, ‘knowing your colors is better than knowing your numbers.’”
Leland blinked a few times slowly. “That’s terrible advice.”
Jude shrugged.
“Anyway,” Glenny said with a sigh, “that white is the Void. That’s all I see when I’m ‘asleep.’ No dreams, no nightmares, no whispering. It’s honestly great.”
“I wish you told us more about your problem, Glenny,” Jude said with a frown. “We knew you were hearing the Sightless King, but we didn’t grasp the depth of it all.”
“That’s the weird thing. I didn’t either, not until Harlen woke me up with the call of the Void. Those few moments of silence were, in more ways than one, a wake up call.”
Leland, always one to be pragmatic, asked, “What are you going to do when Harlen has to return to the Void when the Royal Dream is over?”
That was a point of contention between Glenny and his dad, one they had spoken of for hours before. “Hopefully I adapt to the Void and take on its characteristics.”
“Can you do that?”
“Like my mom apparently said, ‘I can adapt to almost anythi—‘”
The deafening boom of a dozen ghostly cannons marked the Youngest Princess’ arrival. The Reflections quickly took their places, all floating above the living crowd like standing on a balcony at the opera. Each summoned an instrument, or two, from beyond reality as a second round of cannon fire sounded.
Then, at once, they began to play the Palemarrow anthem and the royal caravan entered Ruinsforth.
The caravan entered via a magical portal the size of a barn, courtesy of Spencer Silver. Six Royal Guards, all on horseback, strolled through the portal first, their armor pure white with red trim. The high sun reflected with a dazzle, softly blinding the crowd as the first of the buggies entered.
It was wide and thick, sporting enough runes to make a seasoned artifice jealous. Drawn by invisible steeds, it entered the portal without touching the ground – its wheels propped inches from the street by means of golden clouds. Personnel wearing noble silks and threads leaned out of the windows, waving to the crowd as they drove off into the city.
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It quickly followed the six on horseback, allowing the next buggy in.
The second was much like the first, but instead of golden clouds, they were thick, dark gray, and sparking with lightning. The third entered, rounding off the initial trio with clouds made of fluffy white marshmallow.
It was after seeing the same man wearing the too tall top hat that Leland realized just who the people leaning out of the buggy windows were. Illusions, ones no doubt created by a master or magus. The realization allowed him to see through the smoke and mirrors just a bit easier, reminding him of his time with the Onryos in Shoutwell. He wondered how they were doing.
Another round of Royal Guards entered next, promptly followed by more buggies, although their wheels were floating by wafting waves. The pattern was severed when Sybil’s buggy entered.
Hers was obvious, even if Leland hadn’t seen through the illusion. It entered with its windows closed, riding on the street, and pulled by a duo of visible mares. A protective mage bubble surrounded it on all sides, an iron shield despite being a thin blue shell. While six real Royal Guard stalked it on all sides, warding off any civilian that ventured too close.
“So much for the rumors,” Leland muttered, staring at the closed windows.
The caravan finished through the portal, which then snapped close. The illusions, Reflections, and Sybil alike, all traversed the streets, heading deeper into the city.
Then, as one collective mass, everyone watching the ceremony began to follow.
“Where do you think our parents are?” Jude asked, squinting at one of the guards beside Sybil’s buggy. “Is that my mom? I can’t tell.”
Glenny laughed. “There’s no way she’d wear metal-armor sleeves like that person.”
Jude considered that. “That’s true.”
The boys moved with the horde, following the caravan as it whipped through the streets in a preformed route. They bypassed all of the city’s monuments and key locations, even circling back to a street they had already crossed at one point. Eventually they arrived at the end stretch, the main street leading into what remained of the Reflection Kingdom.
The Reflections themselves gathered just before the caravan entered the threshold of the ruins, sitting patiently, not wishing to enter their destroyed home. Not that they needed too, as another one of Spencer’s portals opened, swallowing the caravan in its entirety.
The Reflections then clapped, which then permeated to the crowd. A few minutes later, the crowd disappeared, back to whatever they were doing before being uprooted by a princess’ arrival.
“Well that was lame,” Jude said, not even trying to quiet his disappointment.
Leland and Glenny agreed.
Not much happened for the rest of the day, just a group dinner with everyone staying on the royal campus. Leland had brought up the illusions, which his mom commended him on noticing. Glenny fell into the Void for the night, courtesy of Harlen, with his dad by his side. Jude’s parents had the evening off and took him to a music shop where Jude proceeded to buy several small instruments that played in a similar way to a harmonica.
Sybil, for the most part, was quiet, never leaving Aunty P’s side. She exchanged glances with Leland a few times over the evening, but there was a hesitance in her demeanor.
Leland could only think of what she said about feeling like she was in a prison, a sentiment he figured she felt more today of all days. She was being put on a pedestal for all to see, after all, like what made her a mundane person was being executed for means of royal blood.
Maybe Aunty P. was a warden, in that case.
That night just before Leland went to bed, he whispered a string of words and dedicated his Legacy’s power.
“Lord of the Chameleon, I humbly wish to create a contract with you.”
And just like that, Leland’s soul was hoisted through the folds of reality into a white void.
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Elsewhere on the royal campus, Aunty P. sat awake sipping red wine. In her mind, she repeated Leland’s words again and again, having heard despite the distance and volume.
Contracting with other Lords, she thought, What could it mean?
To her side, a chained young man sat helplessly on his knees. His face was stricken with tears, his wrists and ankles bloodied from the iron that dug into his skin. He was all but naked, but his body was not cold whatsoever. In fact, the young man was very warm. Too warm, even. The heating rune made sure of that.
He was another Carmon had subdued during the act of colluding with the enemy – the Legacy of the Pathway. He had all but given his soul to Aunty P’s questions, not realizing that he was well beyond simple treason with his actions. She didn’t even need to involve King Harlen’s brother, Lane, for questioning, the young man gave up the moment the shackles tighten around his wrists.
Why was Aunty P. still torturing him? Not even she knew, just that it helped relieve her stress. Which was unfair, she knew, but still. She was stressed. The enemy was playing games, games she couldn’t predict.
She gulped down the remainder of her wine and activated a Legacy ability. The young man died instantly, humanely.
“Do you see?” Aunty P. then asked, her voice as cold as an iceberg.
Across the room, Sybil stared at the young nondescript man’s body, nodding, albeit with tears in her eyes.
“These people took you, kidnapped you, killed people to get to you. Then they tortured you, they scared you.” Aunty P. closed the distance and rubbed the lines along her niece’s face. “It’s brutal, I know. But sometimes barbarity is needed for survival. Get used to it now, rather than later.”
Sybil didn’t nod this time, but she understood.
“Good,” Aunty P. then said. “One last thing, stay away from Leland.”
That got a reaction out of her. She stared at her aunt, confused more than angry.
“There’s something about him, I’m not quite sure, but it's better to be on the safe side.” Aunty P. then deliberated on an idea. “Once we are back to the castle, I’ll switch Spencer and Lucia to someone else’s protective detail.”
“But—”
“This is for your own protection.”
“Protection?” Sybil asked, her voice imitating her aunt’s despite the subtle gray glow illuminating under her skin. “Do you not mean obedience?”
Aunty P. recoiled at that. “Whatever do you mean? All of this is for your protection.”
“Being a prisoner isn’t protection.”
The Eldest Princess nodded gravely at the Youngest’s words. “For now it does. But that is the life you were born into. In a few decades, you’ll have power only behind your mother’s. Remember that.”