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CHAPTER II:

The Heir-Apparent

13, Flamestar 1011,

The Age of Night

39 Days until the Night of the Moon

Grazzli Estate, Fioran Empire

Nightfall in the captivating red city sparkled like ruby and refracted onto the bay's water. The stars twinkled in lockstep with the descent of the Flamestar, which stood as a sign of the peak of summer, cascading upon one another, and the towers of the Imperial capital reached for them in covetousness. A robust and well-built len stood in the palace tower's portcullis. His hair was long and dark, braided and wrapped in gold rings, and his face was bearded; it was a jagged face, but indeed handsome. However, this fairness in appearance was marred by a wicked scar incurred from a duel along his right eye. He stood, staring down at the city's denizens, watching them… in contempt.

"Ahh… Fioranz never sleeps, does it, my lord?" Said a tall, slender ven who approached him. It seemed as if he hovered and didn't need to take a step as he moved. He was dressed in a fine blood-red robe and had a pale face, almost porcelain. His skin was flawless, almost glimmering, and his hair was light, but he had a crooked, pointed nose and lifeless eyes. His expressions didn't seem to change, and his mouth didn't seem to move when he spoke. It was almost as if he was wearing a mask with a predetermined face, as all Venganzi did, with protruding ears with three points.

"It should sleep. But now... these… people repulse me. Don't they realize they have work tomorrow?" Said the len. "Ungrateful for all we've done for them. The Fangs and I faced barbarian hordes day in and day out to guarantee their safety, so that their bread is baked and their wine flows."

"My lord Daryusz… these are the life-blood of the Empire…. Your Empire. Yours to enjoy. You fought to establish it." Said the ven, who seemed to lick his lips. “Let them… enjoy their short lives… Meanwhile, find happiness in your accomplishments."

"I guess so, Governor." Said Daryusz.

"...Have you heard from your father?" Asked the Governor.

"No." Said Daryusz, still fixing his gaze on the streets below and the drunkards and miscreants.

"...Well… I will divulge to you then, young lenning… see to it you are not caught off-guard or…" said the Governor, in his cold, hollow voice. "Unprepared…"

Daryusz turned slightly to the ven, who was easily over eight feet tall. He was slim and slender and looked as light as a feather.

"It's time we finished the job in the desert." Said the Governor. "It seems that the Sultanate is angered by the increased... aggression of our settlements... their holy sites are supposedly being desecrated. How convenient, for our lord is tired of appeasing them as it is. Since he is away on holiday... The task… will be given to you."

"...and the Hellfangs? Will they come with me?" Said Daryusz, who looked up eagerly at Grazzli, his eyes widening, his mouth slightly open, almost salivating. Grazzli was somewhat disgusted at the sight of him.

"No… they will remain at the front, where they are needed most. Just… you." Said the Governor. "A chance at redemption, maybe?"

"Bah!" Daryusz let out a grunt of rage and began to pace. "I had him in my hands. It's not my fault he turned a traitor. I should have listened to all of those who told me he was no good,"

"Sore subject, still… I see…" Said the Governor. "Please forgive my… intrusion… my lord."

"Íbolín is overrated, always has been. I am twice as strong, twice as trained, twice as capable... I am the Hellflayer."

"Can we just forget about him? He's probably dead now... succumbed to his wounds. That was over five years ago." Said a faint voice.

"No. That cur is alive. I know it." Said Daryusz, who still thought it was Grazzli. "And I will never rest until he is beneath my feet."

“Dary, forget about Íbolín... I have,” Daryusz turned upon hearing the voice again. Daryusz's countenance lifted.

"Isn't it a little late, my love?" He said, changing and raising his voice slightly.

A beautiful wolen, adorned in a silver dress, descended from upstairs, guiding herself down from the railing, tiny strands of light pouring from the stained glass cut through her light brown hair and poked from under her head covering. She had piercing blue eyes and her face was dotted with beauty marks. She was quite clearly half-Venganzi.

"My father has told you the truth. This is a chance at redemption, Dary. A chance at promotion. For you… for us… finally," Said the wolen.

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“Síbela… I…”

"Do you not want to be part of this family?" She placed her slender, pale hand, the back of which was covered with the ornate triangle cut of her dress's sleeves, which came up over her wrist. It was adorned in silver sequins and jewels. He was enchanted by her touch.

“I… do… It’s just…”

"Then worry not. Focus on the task at hand. Daryusz, the great and powerful… Do what you do best. What Íbolín could never do…."

"Win your love?" Said Daryusz, who took her hand in his.

Síbela's countenance was stone-like, like a true Venganzi.

"Commit." She said.

The two shared a brief kiss.

"Your... father, by adopting you as his son, has declared his faith in your abilities to the entire Empire by naming you successor, should he decide to retire. So for the last time... Forget. About. Íbolín."

She playfully, softly slapped his bearded face back and forth.

"I have."

He took her hands and brought them low, his armor glinting in the light of the expanse of night.

"I... don't want to go play in the damn sandbox. I want to be with you now." He said.

"I'll be happy knowing you'll be safe." Said Síbela. "It's a break from fighting those uncivilized... Drümmargians."

All three of them seemed to sigh, weary from the lasting conflict.

"What is it you called them?" She asked.

"The forest yodlers," Said Daryusz. "And other things."

"You'll be fine. Captain Minsz is still holding them off, and the Hellfangs are safe. She taught us, didn't she? She taught you. I know you think you're top dog these days, but I hate to say it, darling - She's still the alpha."

Daryusz looked down onto the streets again, prowling it incessantly with his eyes.

"...Where do you think he is? Tell me truly." He said.

Síbela drew away, annoyed.

"Ugh. Íbolín AGAIN. You're obsessed!"

"You say Captain Minsz is the alpha... because she taught us everything we know... but not him. Who trained him."

Síbela went over to her father's side, who was now reclining at a large table, delicately cutting up a hog's foot with ornate silverware. He was drinking from a large goblet filled with a thick red liquid. She motioned for it, and he gave her a small sip, and it slightly stained her voluptuous lips.

"Not too much, my child. You know. Not too much," said Governor Grazzli in a patient voice.

Her crystal blue eyes widened, and her skin sparkled like her father's.

"Síbela, did he ever tell you where he went after he left the Academy?"

"You've asked me a million times, Daryusz."

Daryusz leaned in, his eyes fixed on Síbela. "Please, just one more time. Did he mention anything else?" he asked his tone pleading.

Síbela let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "He mentioned having a mentor. Some… wanderer who taught him everything he knew about the sword."

Daryusz nodded eagerly. "And where did he say this mentor was from?"

"He didn't," Síbela replied, her voice laced with irritation. "He did say the wanderer was wrapped, all over his body… in fine Yaporgine silk. He... said it was flawless like it descended from Luminaris itself..."

At that moment, Governor Grazzli let out a wheezy chuckle. "Wandering swordsman, huh?" he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. In rare fashion, his face lifted in a smile. “From… the Yaporgine islands? Hah!”

Daryusz turned to him, his expression curious. "...where’s that again?"

“What?” Governor Grazzli was amused. "You really don't know...? Daryusz..."

Daryusz bristled at the insult, his hands balling into fists. "What? What's that supposed to mean?" he growled.

Grazzli just shook his head. "Daryusz... that is a problem. Did Captain Minsz really not fill that head of sawdust with anything besides hacking and cutting?" he said, his tone mocking.

Daryusz felt his face flush with anger, but he swallowed hard, determined not to lose his cool. "Goodnight, Governor Grazzli," he said curtly, giving him a sharp nod, while taking Síbela's hand, guiding her with him upstairs.

"Goodnight," Grazzli replied facetiously, grinning from ear to ear. "I'll have the help send you up some maps and parchments to assist you with your...geographical challenges. I cannot in good conscience leave you to your ignorance, if indeed one day the Venrex will retire and pass the scepter to you... and if you are to be my son-in-law,"

As Daryusz turned to leave, he felt a flicker of annoyance, but he knew that Grazzli was right... With a determined expression, he climbed the spiral staircase, his mind affixed in an endless spiral between his orders and his personal ambitions. Not to become an Emperor, not even to marry lady Síbela. His thoughts turned toward Íbolín Ithandacar... how he might finally overcome him, and his lasting shadow.