2nd of Vorn 513 A.E, Verox
The ringing melody of the Celestial church was considered music to anyone that heard it—anyone except Derek. He pressed a feather pillow to his head. Why must they do that every Sunday! It’s only 8 in the morning!
The bells ceased the unwelcome noise allowing him to remove the pillow, it was still dark in his room but that was to be expected with the blinds closed. He rolled over, landing on something warm, something soft.
“Mmmmm,” a feminine moan gave all the answers Derek needed.
He didn't remember much from the night before, let alone bedding a whore but he still confidently reassured himself of his performance, that and what will be this morning's performance.
Derek began exploring with his hand, starting at her waist, investigating last night's exploits, only to be rudely interrupted by a knock on the Bedroom door.
“Young Master Derek, That would be the 8 o'clock bell. Were you not to meet your father for the church sermon? It will begin within the hour.”
Derek stopped his seduction and sat up, the red duvet falling down his lean figure, the kind of figure you would have if a dozen servants were at your beck and call.
“By the Twelve I’d forgotten” he murmured quietly. Then, like a poorly picked bar fight, he remembered his poor choices the night before. Derek rubbed his temple, “Why must the sweet temptress of wine always defeat my indomitable will?“
A feminine grunt was heard, a petite hand wrapped around his waist, attempting to pull him beside her. Derek swept the hand away and looked down to see the outline of the naked woman lying beside him. Wine and whores he corrected himself.
“Master Derek, did you hear me?” a raspy voice behind the door reminded Derek of the morning's agenda.
“Yes, yes I heard you Jepidiah” Derek responded irritably.
He stretched, a lurch of nausea rose up in him. Another reminder of fun, but also poor choices. While fighting the urge to release his guts, he looked down at the naked woman beside him, her long blonde hair spread across the bedding.
“I would love to stay here with you, darling, but I am very important. Couldn't let my pious image be tarnished.” He inwardly laughed at that, it had become an open secret Derek was an atheist. In fact he had earned the name The Godless Prince amongst the population.
“Now If you could just make yourself useful and see one of the servants for payment, that would be super,” he smiled, doubtless she wouldn’t be able to see it.
The woman opened her eyes and stared at him incredulously, at least Derek assumed that's how she was staring at him, for some reason a lot of women he met did that. Probably hormones or something of the like, he didn’t feel like it was a question worth pondering for too long.
“I am not one of your whores!” she spat, throwing the covers from them both and quickly rose from the bed. She began picking her clothes off the hard wooden floor, her anger almost palpable.
Derek cocked his head and squints, only able to see outlines of prominent features of her body and face. Shoulder length hair, perhaps blonde? Rather short and skinny, disregarding those huge, FEATURES! She has a long dress, maybe if I go through last night's events I could remember something else that could help. He started racking his brain for any memory of the previous night. There was a ball followed by a feast in celebration of the recapture of Drakonshore. His father gave the usual speech about human spirit and the strength they have gained with Voltan’s remaining armies and refugees coming to Dorath Lands. Disgusting Mechno maniacs. Then he and his friends had an after-party with those three lovely noble girls, Two of them did however wear a long dress. At least that is what his sluggish brain thought.
He decided to have a punt. “My sincerest apologies Lady Vicorin.”
The woman stopped dressing and stared daggers at him. This time Derek swore he could see red flames in her eyes. She opened her mouth then closed it again, letting out an exasperated huff and turned to leave.
Trying the other name he called after her “Lady Vessara, please, I didn't mean to anger you.”
She stopped in her tracks whispering in a promising tone “If you were not the king's son, I would stab you in the heart and feed you to the pig. Even though that would be cannibalism,” Derek could not help but cringe at the threat as he watched her exit the bedroom, her half-buttoned dress flowing behind her.
In her wake stood an old man in the hallway's morning light. He wore white buttoned shirt tied with a red bow at the collar, a creaseless coat over the top and a pair of perfectly tailored pants. His usual placid expression was displayed on his wrinkled face, a set of clothes was draped over his frail arm.
“Lady Vicorin would be her cousin.” Jepidiah corrected the young master in his customary flat tone. “And Lady Vessara has been out of town for the past six months.” He entered, walked to the window, drew the royal red curtains and began tying them with their respectful golden rope. The light beamed through the window, colouring the once dark bedroom. A littering of Derek's clothes spread across a large circular rug on the floor and a bra flopped over the bed's footboard.
Jepidah stood by the window and gazed out from the prince's marvellous view from atop the castle tower perched at the pinnacle of the Verox cliff plateau, the city sprawled for kilometres below. In the distance the morning rays reflected off the polished marble of the Celestian Church enhancing the glimmering shrine of the deep blue ocean a hundred of feet below.
“Then who in the bloody ninth layer was that?” Derek asked, still looking at the empty doorway.
“Lady Suparno would be the young Master’s latest conquest. I’m sure this will not cause the young Master any issues in the future.”
Derek rolled his eyes in response.
“May I ask the young Master when he plans to get out of bed?” Jepidah blankly looks at the blanketless bed. “Maybe I should have asked when the young Master plans to dress.”
Derek’s face brightens red as he notices his clothes, or the lack thereof.
“Just leave the clothes by the bed, then be off with you.” Derek waves his hand towards the door
“When should I expect the young Master in the carriage? I should remind young Master the last time he missed his fathers meeting he was under house arrest for a week.”
“I’m not a child,” Derek retorted. “I shall be down shortly. Ninth Hell, I don’t understand why father bothers with the church, he is as much of a believer as I am.”
Satisfied with the answer the butler dropped the prince's clothes by the foot of the bed and turned to exit the room. “Questions for your father.” he said, then closed the door behind him.
Derek collapsed back to his pillow. Death's domain, my head hurts.
“Young Master.” Jepidah nodded before opening the ornate carriage door. Derek descended the end of the stone stairs of the keep, his long black hair hastily tied in a ponytail blowing in the spring breeze. He wore a perfectly tailored blue noble suit with golden hems, marred by his unevenly buttoned white shirt. Jepidah eyed Derek dishevelled attire as he entered the carriage.
“A child could button his shirt properly, young Master Derek.” Jepidah remarked in his flat tone. Derek could only muster a humph in response. Jepidah informed the driver of their readiness to depart and then joined Derek inside, allowing a footman to close the door behind him. A squadron of honour guard horses began its march, followed by the crack of the reins. The familiar bump of the road, which only aggravated Derek's queasy stomach and throbbing head, causing him to grimace frequently.
“I have taken the liberty of preparing an herbal mixture for you, young Master, I expect last night's exploits have provided some…..complications.” Jepidah said, reached into a pouch resting on the spare seat next to him. He shuffled around before pulling out an unsightly corked bottle filled with yellow and green concoction. Derek groaned, anticipating the vile taste he’ll have to endure for the ride. He reached over and took the bottle.
“Apply the mixture around the gums and under the tongue.” Jepidah instructed.
“I know how it works.” Derek replied as he uncorked the bottle. After placing a small amount of the thick contents on his finger, he began to rub it around his mouth.
“Despite the latest victory in Drakonshore, your father seems to be in a temper this morning. You should avoid upsetting him today.” Jepidah said matter-of-factly. Derek blanched at the taste in his mouth.
“Don’t swallow or it will not work.” Jepidah advised.
“I knoh ow ih works!” Derek snapped, his finger still roaming around his mouth.
“Perhaps if the young Master could control his temptations he would not be so familiar with the process.” Jepidah quips. Derek just rolled his eyes in response.
Derek removed his finger from his mouth, leaving a vile lump under his tongue. Despite the unpleasant flavour, relief started to flood his mind and stomach, allowing him to think a little more clearly than this morning's debacle. “What does father have to gripe about? Drakonshore was a huge victory for the kingdom.” Derek looked down at his shirt's state and began to unbutton it, revealing the most elegant light blue mithril chainmail beneath. Jepidah eyed him for a moment before acutely pulling the opulent purple curtains windows closed.
“Young Master! Please be careful when you show such extravagance. You know that mail is worth more than most kingdoms.” Jepidah Snapped.
Derek payd the butler no attention and continued to fix his shirt. Jepidah frowned and ground his teeth, an act only Derek could provoke. After a moment, his face turned back to its serene features. “Drakonshore was only taken back with the help of Voltan’s Steel Knights, not much of a morale boost for people who distrust them.”
“With good reason.” Derek interjected. “They are unnatural. Why would anyone replace flesh and bone with steel?” Derek finished buttoning his shirt, looked down, and felt satisfied with the result. “Really, Jepidah, I don’t understand how father could have those… things roam his streets. Have you seen what they’ve done to downtown Verox? Those hideous buildings they’re so fond of, constantly billowing all that noise pollution. Seriously, what could require such a large amount of banging? They’ve completely ruined the district for me.”
Jepidah shook his head. “Derek, the only reason anyone visited downtown Verox before the refugees of Brasshaven arrived was for the whores and cheap ale.”
Derek’s golden eyes glazed over as he recalled a distant memory. “And what good whores they were.”
The carriage abruptly stopped, dragging Derek from his memories. Annoyed, Derek opened the small window separating him from the driver. “Why have we stopped? We could not have arrived already; It’s only been ten minutes.” Derek demanded..
The driver's back straightened a little. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. It’s just a crowd that has formed on the road ahead.”
“Someone better have died a gruesome death to justify making us late.” he muttered more to himself than the driver.
“Do you wish to be informed of any updates, Your Highness?.”
Derek slammed the door in response. He turned toward to Jepidah, who sat across from him with his hands in his lap, the usual emotionless expression staring back at him.
“You will make the poor man squirm by not giving him an answer.” Jepidah noted.
A grin formed across Derek’s face thinking about it. Deciding to not be a complete ass, he reopened the window, once again frightening the driver.
“Yes, do that,” then closed the window again
“Are you going to tell me why father is in a mood?” Derek asked.
Jepidah sighed. “I do not know why he is in a temper, but I did see a messenger leave from the direction of his chambers this morning. You will have to ask him yourself I’m afraid.”
Derek nodded in understanding.
Silence passed between them for a while, long enough for a sheepish knock at the window to break it.
Derek opened the window.
“Yes?”
“Your Majesty,” the driver’s voice was quiet.
“Someone has in fact died a gruesome death, one of those new citizens. We will have to backtrack and go round the area.”
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Derek solemnly nodded, regretting what he had said earlier, then closed the window. A whip of the reins was heard followed by the bump of the road. Nothing was spoken between the two but the silence no longer pleasant and more akin to a suffocating blanket.
Jepidah reached over to his pouch, pulled out a waterskin, and handed it to Derek. “That should be long enough.”
Derek took it, swished the water around his mouth then opened the carriage window before spitting it out without looking. “Is there really no way you could make that a little less horrible”
“Absolutely none.” Jepidah replied, a smile tugged at the corner of face, giving away his lie.
“Prick” Derek muttered, whilst actually being relieved in the uplift in mood Jepidah had brought.
He looked away, casually opened the purple curtains, and lazily stared through the window, taking in the bustling city's scenery. Hundreds of people passed by at the slow pace of the carriage trot. Merchants could be seen preaching their wares to uncaring ears. Filthy urchins bowed to the ground with hands to the heavens, praying for scraps, occupying every corner and blocking the path of those more fortunate. Every so often, a patrol of guards were seen on their route, reminding any would-be criminals of law and order.
A pleasant silence persisted in the carriage until the magnificent towers of Celestian church came into view from the distance. Its prodigious reach seemed to touch the heavens above, casting shadows to the ocean behind. Golden and silver linings adorned every marble brick, highlighting its excessive magnitude. Mosaic windows depicting Celestius slaying hordes of demons, breaking the monotony of white marble, while balconies extrude from the towers, offering those fortunate enough to have such a room a view almost as splendid as Derek’s.
As the carriage pulled closer on the cobblestone road, a courtyard of lush green and well-maintained gardens led the way to the glimmering, polished stairs to the nave's entrance, statues adorning the path. A terrace above, supported by intricately engraved marble columns, shadowed a huge wooden door. Constructed from dark red foreign wood, the door guarded the entrance of the nave with its perfectly crafted beauty.
The carriage halted at the foot of the marble stairs, a privilege reserved for royalty or the high Inquisitor alone. The sound of heavy metal boots striking the marble echoed through the carriage as the honour guard dismounted their beasts. A footman opened the door and stood at attention. Derek stepped down from the coach, blinking as his eyes adjusted from the obtrusive gleam reflected from the building.
“It baffles me that such a prestigious cult cannot afford to pay the crown their share of taxes. The building materials alone would feed the poor miserable bastards they are so fond of preaching about for generations.” Derek remarked
Jepidah, following closely behind, responded, “Indeed, young Master. It is a matter of priorities, I suppose. I believe your father would have already taken his seat inside.”
“Did he say what rubbish the Grand Inquisitor will be spouting today?”
“Hush yourself, even your father has to bow a knee to the church.” Jepidah reprimanded.
“Yes, that cockroach does have exceptional power.”
Without waiting for a response Derek began his ascent, the honour guard formed a protective line around him and Jepidah. The grandeur of the church became more apparent as a closer inspection revealed the intricacies entailed among the paths of statues, each representing an Inquisitor of the past, their plaques boldly declaring their mighty feats. Derek stopped before the last statue of an Inquisitor named Thalric; he posed stoically with a resolute face. Situated in front of the terrace column, , and curiously read the inscription:
Inquisitor Thalric
Saviour of the Northern Realm, Defender of faith
Purging the kingdom of Heresy, Thalric, managed to bring the people of the Dorath kingdom closer to the true lord, Celestius.
In his righteous conquest, he uncovered the evils of Mortanius and his ally Kar’Goth, thwarting a ploy to overthrow Dorian from his throne and enslave the free peoples of Verox.
Thalric earned his place in the heavens and amongst the Halls of Light.
Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Saviour of the Northern Realm? A more accurate title would be The Butcher of Dissenters.” he whispered under his breath.
Jepidah, hearing the comment, gave him a stern look. “Mind your tongue, young Master. We are not alone.” he whispered then directed Derek's attention to a portion of the guard.
Like the night being banished from the sun's first rays, a man appeared from amongst the guard, shocking them with his sudden appearance. Dressed in a golden robe, a rope tied around waist and a hood that masks all his features bar a pointy nose and short black beard covering thin lips. He glided toward the two.
“Well, well, well, if it isn't the heathen prince, come to grace us with his presence. If I were a betting man, I would have spent my gold on you not showing up for the third time this month’.”
“Fortunately the church spends the priests' stipends on the extravagant building.” Derek replied.
The robed man's nose wrinkles in what Derek would assume to be a frown.
“I would have guessed that even an infidel such as you would have been strung up by his heels long ago, it would be wise to know the difference from an inquisitor's robes and a priests. Then again, it was a mothers task for lessons in the church, I would guess your mother barely had enough brains to stop the drool from escaping.”
Derek’s face went red in anger, he opened his mouth to reply but closed it again when a familiar hand landed on his shoulder. He looked to see Jepidah’s face seemingly pleading him to not engage.
Seeing his victory, the inquisitor smirked.
“Your father has already taken his seat and I am unfortunately tasked with guiding you to him. Leave the body guards here and follow,” with that the inquisitor turned and glided back through the guards and disappeared around the corner.
“Even an Inquisitor should show respect to royalty.” Derek muttered as he reluctantly started to follow the direction of the robed figure, Jepidah close behind. Turning the corner, the inquisitor was nowhere to be seen despite the only path leading to a long narrow colonnade, marbled brick swapped with a light wooden deck, vines grew at the perimeter, wrapping their way up the columns and into the rafters, few rays of sunshine breaking through the thick green leaves. The two walked down the path, a booming voice could be faintly heard behind the heavy marble exterior.
“The prick tells me to follow, just to disappear around the first corner. Honestly, why does father bow to these fanatics.” irritation lacing his voice.
Jepidah sighed “Patience young Master, the inquisitors have always been strange, so I cannot stress any further, please be respectful to them, especially here..”
Like a dog being summoned by its master, the weaselly voice of the inquisitor whispered between them, sending a shiver up Derek's spine.
“Wise advice for a babysitter. Who knows what a fanatic is capable of. Now if the princeling would be so kind as to keep up this time,” the inquisitor interjected, pushed between them and gilded down the path.
“Creepy bastard, that’s for sure,” Derek said under his breath. All Jepidah could do was close his eyes and shake his head before following the robed man, leaving Derek to catch up.
“Through here if you please,” the robed man said, opening a plain wooden door that seemed out of place with its simplicity. It revealed a long, dark corridor with glowing stars along the ceiling as the source of light. The sounds of the sermon inside became evidently louder.
“Down to the end of the corridor, take a left. You will find your father in the front row. I have other matters to tend to now so you will be on your own.”
Jepidah nodded and began to lead the way through the shockingly dimly lit corridor, with Derek unhappily following behind.
“Do not wander where you are not welcome.” The inquisitor called behind, his voice echoing from the walls, giving the illusion the walls themselves were speaking.
Derek turned his head to the entrance, intending to make a witty retort, but was only met by an empty doorway, the natural light then being banished from sight as the wooden door closed behind them.
“Are they all like that?” he asked Jepidah.
“Young Master, I do not know how many times I could tell you that this is not the place to discuss or disrespect the Hallowed.”
“The Hallowed?” Derek queried.
“The sermon will be over if we keep talking, we should hurry.” Jepidah urged, his pace quickening down the corridor and widening the gap between them.
What an odd thing to call that twat. Derek followed after his servant at a leisurely pace, taking the time to absorb his surroundings, which would only entail glowing galaxies of stars scattered along the path's ceiling. What an excessive way to light a corridor. Excessive and unfortunately stunning.
Derek's thoughts were interrupted as he caught up to Jepidah at the corridor's end junction, they and turned left as instructed, another plain door, similar to the one outside, guarded the entrance to the nave. Jepidah opened the door and held it open as he waited for Derek to enter
“I shall wait here young Master,” Jepidah whispered, barely audible over the booming noise of the sermon.
Derek nodded and stepped through, his nose was assaulted by a cloud of incense, the rich scents of frankincense and myrrh mingling with a hint of lavender. The passage led him to a darkened corner near a grand pulpit, its staircase laid with a dark stone that seemed to absorb light, excluding the centre where the Grand Inquisitor stood preaching. Rays of prismatic light shone through a mosaic window depicting a large sphere being orbited by three smaller spheres, each its own representation to one of the supposed four realms. A golden light reflected from his robes, casting an aura of godly authority and righteousness. The congregation, spread before him on multiple levels of the building, all watched with devout attention.
Pausing momentarily in the shadows, Derek scanned the front row. A towering figure, easily seven feet tall, clad in a simple white robe that strained against his bulging muscles, sat alone. Long dark red hair braided down his back splitting the white robe in two The sturdy hardwood bench groaned and twisted under his weight. The figure turned to Derek, his face engraved with lines of joy, the depth of the lines indicating years of laughter and happiness. With a small smile he gestures to the empty space beside him.
Leaving Jepidah at the door he emerged from, he made his way to his father. He felt the collective gaze of the congregation fixed upon him as he walked, his echoing footsteps drowned out by the rising and falling rhythm of the Grand Inquisitor's voice.
“They shall all be judged by the ever-watching eyes of our lord. He will cast the foul from Drakonshore's walls, cleansing our reclaimed city from the corruption that poisoned the peoples minds, causing the fall to the heathens so long ago”
Derek sat down, forcing himself to endure the zealots' loathsome speech.
“This time I personally will attend the purging, ridding Drakonshore of its heresy. Under the guidance of Celestius, the corruption of Mortanius will no longer be at the footsteps of our great kingdom.”
Derek began to filter out the Inquisitor fervent dribble, lest he go insane. His eyes wandered over the seas of pious faces, each one hanging on the Inquisitor's words. At least the steel people are not stupid enough to listen to this bullshit. Lilith take me before these imbeciles become my burden.
The Inquisitor’s droning continued for what seemed like hours, each word blending into the next until it became a monotonous hum in Dereks mind. He stole glances at his father, whose expression gave no indication of shared emotions. How can he mask his contempt for the fanatical views this boob spouts.
“May Celestius shield your hearts from darkness,,” the Inquisitor bellowed with a fervent finality.
“Light shines on us,” the congregation returned with a matching intensity.
The inquisitor raised his arm and created an arch through the air before exiting through a door behind him.
The large room becomes chaotic as voices from thousands of people shuffle through the aisles to leave forming dense crowds in all directions.
Derek’s eyes come to life at the realisation that his torture has ended. He and his father wait silently, waiting for the crowd to disperse, the speed of which could be matched by a snail. Derek did not mind the silence between them, he in fact relished it, the time spent in these moments were few and far between. His father always seemed too busy with war meetings or politicking these days. And we just fight when we are together.
“They will slay countless innocence and there is not a damned thing I can do,” Dorian said, breaking the silence.
Derek studies his father, his fathers gaze lost to the void, no familiar smile, only a look of concern.
“I do not understand, you are the king of all these people. Could you simply bar the entrance of Drakonshore to the church?”
“What is a king to a god, boy? No Celestius has already bested me twice, it is his mercy that allows my rule. Besides, that would just cause a scandal.” Dorian's hand moves to his temple and begins to rub in a circular motion with two fingers, as if a solution could be massaged into existence,
Bested by Celestius? Derek didn’t even know how that would be possible. That would entail he has convened with a god, something Derek was certain did not exist. I will have to remember to explain what he means by being bested.
“There is something I must do boy, it may prevent needless bloodshed, but I will be gone for some time,” Doran continued.
“You cannot expect me to rule in your stead! I can barely piss without Jepidah’s critique,” he could feel Jepidah smile at that remark from the shadows.
Dorian chuckles, “Do not worry boy, Vortan will take care of the day to day. I need you to do something else for me, more important.”
More important than the Kingdom? I wouldn’t trust myself to water a cacti.
As if his father could read his mind, he adds, “I know I’ve always been secretive with plans but you are truly the only one I can trust with this. Come, I have something to show you,”
Dorian stands “Let us walk through the private gardens, despite what you think of the church, they do make good CULTivators,” emphasising the first half of the word with a huge smile on his face.
Derek groaned in response and stood up, indicating for his father to lead the way
Dorian led the group to yet another plain looking door, opposite from where Derek entered.
They walked through a maze of corridors. They passed countless junctions, doors and a few stairwells, most of which only led up towards the towers, only a few led to a mysterious darkness below.
Derek felt a prickling feeling as he came up to a white door, a red star painted in the middle. The sensation absorbed his attention as it became stronger the closer he approached. Completely overwhelmed by the feeling as he reached the door. He paused and reached to open the door, turning the handle and hearing the squeal of unoiled hinges as they gave way. His curiosity revealed a staircase that seemingly continued on to the abyss.
He stared into the darkness of a stairwell, a strange feeling of dread came over him. Sounds of tortured screams filled his ears and suddenly his vision began to speed through the darkness, winding down the stairwell and through what he presumed were corridors, travelling towards the sound. The screams grew louder and the darkness completely enveloped him until he reached a large stone door, illuminated by a figure in golden robes holding a candle.
The screams reached a crescendo as the man clicked the lock of the stone door. The figure slowly turns around to face Derek. A face masked by the shadows of a hood, greets him. A familiar short beard with an unnaturally large smile and hooked nose pokes through the shadows.
The man begins to ominously walk towards Derek. Echoing footsteps filled the darkness, too deep underground for anyone to hear. Derek could guess cruel intentions were on the man's mind for his intrusion. He tried to turn and run but his feet felt heavier than mountains. Sickness began to rise and fill him as the man inched closer, visions of razors slicing through his flesh flashed before him. The man stopped a fingerbreadth away, his rotten breath filling Dereks nose. A piercing deep red eyes illuminate and peer through the dark hood..
“Have you come to join the entertainment? Or be it!” The man's jaw opens and begins to expand to an impossible size.
All Derek could see was an empty blackness in that maw, broken up by pearly white pointy teeth growing from the edges.
Fear completely enveloped Derek, realising he was going to die by a creepy priest.
A warm large hand is placed on Derek’s shoulder and a familiar voice speaks gently into his ear, “Are you okay boy?”
Derek whips round to meet the voice, his father towered over him, concern written in his golden eyes. He turns back around to see a plain brown door, completely the same to every door they passed in the last 10 minutes
“There was…..It is nothing, I must have spaced out for a moment.” Derek said, more of an attempt to fool himself than his father.
Dorian nodded, his brows still furrowed in disbelief.
“Come, we are almost at the exit.”
The three continue through the corridor. The lingering feeling of dread and confusion staying with Derek for the remainder of the trip.
Dorian opened a door, shining light broke the creepy darkness and washed away some of the discontent Derek was feeling.