-ARC ONE-

"The War of Blood and Flame"

Royal Palace of La Granja

Madrid, Spain

"Your highness, I have news on Tierra Dorada."

"Report."

It was a rather unfitting place for a report of this manner. But then again, Vazquez remembered, Fernando was not a regular King.

He was always the oddball, wandering off into the royal gardens and inspecting the flowers, or even travelling around Madrid by himself.

Now, with both of them surrounded by lush green plants dotted by red or blue flowers, he had to explain to His Highness the events that had taken place on Tierra Dorada.

"In conclusion, half the spies we sent were killed, and your former lover has...disappeared."

Ferdinand glared at Vazquez from the oak bench he sat on, a dark contrast to the blossoming rose bush next to him.

He rubbed his chin, glazed eyes showing his concern at this news.

Or was it?

With a sigh, he raised his hand to his eyes. Strands of his long, brown hair fell over his face as he lowered it from his face.

"We sent...six spies to the island, Vazquez. Six. And someone killed them? Someone defending that woman?" He asked, his voice showing the anger slowly growing in his heart.

The butler was lost for words. All he could do was nod.

I'm getting too old for this. Perhaps retirement would not be so bad after all. He thought, calmly adjusting his eyes to meet the hatred in Fernando's.

The King rose to his feet, and walked away, his long crimson robe flowing behind him.

Without hesitation, Vazquez followed him. It had been his job for 29 years to follow him. Fernando had been a lonely, forsaken boy since his birth, and he found solace in his solitary existence by taking lonely walks around the castle.

He could not give him that solace.

It was not an escape from his fate. Only a distraction.

"It makes no sense, Vazquez." He muttered, still walking forward aimlessly. "How can 67 people be killed by any regular person? Even for Ley users, that would be no easy task."

The butler wiped the sweat from his forehead with a silk handkerchief before replying. "Only a monster can kill the way these men were killed. It can't even be described as killing. They were butchered. Like animals."

Fernando kept walking, and approached the large Yucca tree in the garden. The vines growing atop the tree drooped down from the branches, and were brushed aside as he went closer.

"Is there anybody you can think of who could do this?"

Vazquez shook his head. "I can't think of anybody." He paused, considering something.

"But...there has been news that has been troubling me for some time. The reason as to why it took an entire month for the report from the spies to get here was because of a storm that had passed by the area."

"And incidentally, the First Ascendant was spotted just outside our naval territories. I don't know how its connected, but it is something to be wary of."

Fernando found himself stunned. "The First Ascendant? Him?"

But Vazquez was not yet done. "There's more. Rumor has it that the Second Ascendant was within our waters. Although they are only based off nothing more than tongues wagging on the streets, I suggest we take such rumors seriously, your highness."

Fernando leaned against the tree and sighed.

None of it made sense. Was an Ascendant involved in this or not? And why? Why would an Ascendant help some forsaken bitch on a dying island?

Questions, and no answers for any of them.

"Vazquez, what happened to the surviving spies?" He asked, his expression cold and foreboding.

The balding man stared at the vines, apathetic. "They are on their way back. With the woman gone, the mission to kill her has failed." He twirled one of the vines around his finger. "May I ask why?"

Fernando ran his hand down the stem of the plant. "They must be punished. Reformed. Vazquez, we barely have over a hundred spies within our forces."

He spun around, his voice brimming with ferocity. "Look at England! Overflowing with spies, all trained to achieve the absolute best a spy possibly could!"

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"We must root out the useless shit stains from our spies and rectify them. And there is no better way to do this than with punishment. Harsh, severe punishment, one that will force them to learn."

He raised his hand to his forehead. "We cannot get our spies to kill one fucking woman. How can we entrust such fools with our lives? Our country's future?"

Vazquez stared at the man, a condescending look within his gaze.

"If you care so much about our country, your highness, where were you today? During the meeting of the Counts and Countess?" His blunt question left Fernando speechless.

Vazquez kept his eyes on him. "They are growing more and more restless with your constant absence. You've given them too much power and authority, your highness."

Fernando sighed, and began to walk away. The butler was left staring at his hulking figure, the red robe flowing past him.

For a moment, Fernando stopped. "Do you truly believe I'm such an admirable person, Vazquez?"

He received no answer.

"I don't believe I am. Never did." As he left the shade of the Yucca tree, Vazquez discreetly followed.

"What of the words you just said, your highness? About how the useless must be rooted out? Whose mouth did those words come from?" He demanded, not giving in so easily.

The King stopped in his tracks.

If he had not been wearing his long robe, Vazquez would have seen his hands ball into fists. "Those words...came from two people. The first, my father. And the second, my brother."

"And the only time I have ever heard those words were in reference to me."

"Their statements on the useless have been burned into my skull. Integrated into my soul. And now that I am King, I will use everything I heard from them to my advantage."

His head slightly bowed in defeat, he walked away, leaving Vazquez by himself in the garden. "I am not a true King, Vazquez. Only a pretender." His final words were laced with pity.

Why do you pity yourself? What holds you down from becoming your own man? Vazquez wished with the bottom of his heart to ask this question of him.

The walk back to the palace was as sobering as usual. Guards everywhere, ministers and other important individuals negotiating peace talks and whatnot in gazebos within the gardens.

It made Fernando sick.

As he entered the palace from one of the many entrances, the guards bowed their heads in respect. He motioned to them to rise, and continued back to his quarters.

As he climbed up the shining stone stairs, which curved as they rose to the next floor, a small boy stumbled into him.

"Ah...I'm so sorry, your highness! I-I didn't me-"

Fernando forced a smile and patted the boy's shoulder. "It's alright. Go on, you've got work to do." The boy ran off, sheepishly glancing back once in a while at him.

The shining white marble walls and the constant rush of servants and butlers and housekeepers was maddening to him. The only thing keeping him sane and focused at the moment was-

"Fernando! You're back!" The silky voice drifted into his ears like music as he opened the grand double-entry door that led to his quarters.

Her elegant figure, scantily clad in white, almost see-through robes, brought to his mind an odd calm.

His wife, Barbara, was seated at the window, next to a table with several bottles of wine atop it. Her short blonde hair glinted in the sunlight as she turned her head to look at him.

"Barbara, what in lord's name is all that?" He asked, puzzled by her sudden interest in wine.

She held up one of the bottles to him as he took off some of his formal attire. "Italian red wine. Your brother, Carlos, sent them." Fernando scowled at the mention of his brother.

"The bastard finally remembered I exist, did he?" He muttered sourly, and examined the bottles. "Don't drink any of these. I want to make sure they are not poisoned."

Barbara looked at him with mild disapproval on her face. "He's your brother, Fernando. You should trust him more."

He said nothing.

If only you knew what he's truly like. If only you knew.

She was still talking. "We were ever so trusting of each other. You'd never see us apart."

Fernando laughed. "Your sisters? Well, Barbara, you never had the throne to worry about. Now, it's different."

All she could muster was a frustrated pout.

He set the bottle down and made his way to the large mirror that ran from the ceiling to the floor in the corner of the room, examining his hair.

He was only procrastinating. He didn't want to deliver the news he had just had received.

After a moment of this false grooming session, he took a deep breath, and turned around.

"Barbara, I've got something to tell you. It's regarding the spies we sent to Tierra Dorada." He said, nervously anticipating her response.

She looked elated. Which made it even harder for him. "Finally! It's taken such a ridiculous amount of time for a response from them. I was starting to get worried!"

Fernando wished he could bury himself in the ground.

He took yet another deep breath. "W-Well. About that, dear. Boudicca...has disappeared from the island."

Silence.

Barbara appeared as though she did not fully absorb these words.

"S-Sorry, what?"

He repeated the sentence, only to be met with more silence.

With trembling hands, she kept the bottle on the table and stood up, a look of horror mixed with confusion.

"How? How did this happen?"

Fernando seated himself on the edge of the bed. "I...I have no idea. The 64 bandits the spies hired were all massacred, and three of the spies were killed. That is all we know."

Barbara began pacing back and forth with her robes fluttering behind her, clearly in a state of panic.

Why is this happening now? It should have been an easy mission! Why won't she just DIE?

"Fernando. You know what will happen if she begins spreading our story around. We will be disgraced! You're already losing supporters in court, and the people are starting to speak against you." Her frantic pacing failed to cool her head.

Fernando couldn't think of what to say. How to comfort her. He could prepare the military for battle, he could lead an army to war...but for this he had no solution.

He did not notice Barbara had stopped, glaring at his pathetic figure. "This is because of you, Fernando. For ten years I begged you to send someone to kill her. But you constantly used the French resistance and the campaign in Oz as an excuse."

"If you had sent one man to kill her, this wouldn't have happened. I trusted your words because I believed in you. I didn't want to act against you because I loved you. But now I see."

She began to laugh, turning around to leave the room. Her laughter was frantic, that of a madman.

"Now I see it, Fernando. I see I was a fucking fool for holding such sentiments towards you. You've always been incompetent."

"I've always known you still loved that woman. I didn't want to believe it. You won't kill her, will you? Even if you had your pistol against her head?"

Part of her wanted him to respond. Wanted him to tell her he resented Boudicca, that he would indeed kill her.

Instead, all she received in response was silence.

"Fine. I'll do it myself."

SLAM.

The loud noise of the door shutting failed to spark a reaction from Fernando. Instead he sat there, on the edge of the royal bed, head bowed down in shame.

For the first time since he met Barbara and Boudicca, he was truly alone now.

He could do nothing more than sit there, hands digging into his head, pulling at his own hair.

It's all falling apart. All falling apart. Not again. Not again. Why? Why always me?

From this day onwards, King Ferdinand VI vanished from the eyes of those around him.

And what was left in his place?

A boy called Fernando.