Chapter 2: The false prince

2-1: Morning, an unexpected reunion

The land was hushed, yet the wind was deafening. Under the depth of a moonless night, not a sight could be seen; not a sound could be heard, save for the desperate gallop of a lone horse pounding against the grass. Eleven-year-old Assa held tightly on his mother who sat at the reins, and his twin younger brother, Ero, tugged his shirt from behind. No word had been spoken between them since sunset; they knew enough the severity of the situation. This was not the first time they had fled.

Suddenly, his mother flinched, thus Assa became aware of the faint barrage of approaching hooves. She urged their mount forwards, praying that her trusted steed could muster the strength for one last burst of speed. But the sounds were getting louder and louder, closer and closer. Under the cloak of darkness, a horde of shadowy figures was moving at incredible speed. Assa’s chest tightened; the realisation of the worst crept up on him, and so was the entity to his right.

A flash of light ignited, blinding Assa for a moment. When his sight returned, he saw holding a fiery torch, riding on a beastly black horse, a dark-cloaked figure. A skullish black metal helmet covered his face, and from his shoulder reclined a long staff with a crescent blade at its end, a scythe was what Assa soon learnt. The blade shone under the torchlight, as if the figure was carrying the moon itself on his back, a primal force of nature that could not be contested with normal means.

Swiftly, Assa's mother shouted words in a strange tongue that he did not understand, and from her hand burst forth a blast of wind that sliced through the air razor-sharp, pushing two horses apart. Assa felt himself careening to one side, clutching onto his mother for dear life.

Around them sparks of fire multiplied, dozens on top of dozens, and a vast swarm of horsemen emerged. Assa looked to his mother for guidance, but she was lost in her own incantations, muttering strange words that he could not understand.

Suddenly, Assa felt the air splitting apart. His mother screamed, her body violently dislodged from her steed. "MA!" Assa and Ero cried. The horse, startled yet faithful, wheeled about to return unto her side. There, he saw an arrow puncturing her right shoulder, blood seeping from the wound; a metallic tang lingered on his tongue.

Amidst her tribulation, she rose, leaning on her loyal beast as the swarm of horsemen encircled them. "No matter what happens, you must keep riding forward," she said. "Ride through the fire if you must. Trust me dear, we'll see each other again."

Assa swept his gaze across the wall of horsemen surrounding them, and became aware of his heart thrumming like a captive bird. From the phalanx, the dark cloaked rider emerged atop his black steed, brandishing the scythe like an emissary of hell.

"There’s nowhere for you to run, sparkley. Surrender now and I shall show mercy."

But his mother, a silent mistress, cast forth a burst of gale that sent the black stallion and its rider groundwards. Next, she raised her right hand, its forearm clutched by her left, her lips chanting in a language foreign to Assa's childish ears. A cyclone manifested, and she was its epicentre. The winds, howling like a strange beast, swept up all flames from the torches of the surrounding men, coalescing them into a dim, red orb upon the palm of her hand. This light, with a flick of her wrist, flew skywards, dimming into nothingness; darkness engulfed them once more.

"Go!" Lina hissed, slapping her mount and urging it into a gallop, leaving her behind.

Assa grabbed the rein, but he did not know what to do. The words from his mother echoed in his mind, but how could he do what she had instructed? Though darkness draped their existence, Assa knew they were still running head first onto the enemies.

But from high above, a red shooting star plummeted into the ground before them—a deafening boom. Blinding flames leaped towards the sky. Ground shook beneath their feet. Shockwaves struck Assa’s chest like an ocean torrent. Smoke enveloped the surroundings. Flesh and foliage burnt with a pungent smell. The horse reared up in terror before the smouldering pit, but the last words of his mother moved him. Ride through the fire. Assa gave the reins a sharp whip, uncertain that his intention would convey. But somehow, the mighty beast pushed forth, and they charged through. Under the smoke and flames, they vanished.

"..."

Suddenly darkness was filled with light, and Assa found himself lying on a bed within a dilapidated chamber, once a part of an luxurious abode, but now in decay. The morning sun peered through a shattered window, casting its golden light on a chaos of overturned furniture, glass fragments, dead leaves, rat faeces, puddles, and the legless bed he was on. Assa slowly picked himself up, besieged by the scent of wild grass and the incessant birds' chirping.

The same nightmare as always, a retelling of a past memory, haunting him every now and then, six years ago ever since. He longed for it to pass, but what power had he against the grip of the past?

Maybe, when I’ll find her. The nightmare will end.

But Assa knew he couldn't dwell on it forever. A new day had dawned, and he had work to do. Sighing deeply, he swung his legs over the edge of the rickety bed and stood up, stretching his limbs to shake off the last remnants of sleep. He glanced at the cracked mirror on the wall, where a young man stared back at him, with sharp, grey eyes, a mop of unruly black hair, and a sliver of white across his bang. Dashing, as always! Assa thought wryly, before fixing his tattered dusty crimson shawl around his neck. With a determined stride, he headed toward the hallway, stepping over the broken door on the floor.

Suddenly a shadow dropped down from above. As it rose to its feet, appeared a young man of his age. His skin was pale. His hair was blood red, as were his cold eyes. He wore a grey shawl, and the rest of his outfit was mostly dark.

"Mornin', Ero."

"Assa," the redhead replied coldly. "I'd offer a greeting, but it's hard to talk with someone who can't keep hold of their own weapon."

"Heeh," Assa sneered, "That's a bit rich, coming from someone who couldn't manage to hold onto their own weapons either."

From beneath his cloak, Assa retrieved a pair of curved daggers, each blade menacingly bloodstained. Ero's icy gaze widened as he hastily withdrew a pair of plain knives from his belt. Gazing back at the pair within Assa’s grasp, Ero scoffed:

"Hmf! Well played…"

"Oh, brother," Assa smirked, his arm slung over Ero's shoulder, "you may be the better at killing, but when it comes to thieving, I am the superior one. So, shall we make a deal? Your knives for mine?"

"Fine."

From beneath Ero’s cloak, he brought out a small sword. It had a look of a sword, but the size of a dagger. Sunlight, an intruder from a hole in the ceiling, shone upon its gold-clad handle and scabbard, its shell adorned with gemstones and etched with intricate patterns. Awestruck was Assa everywhen he had the chance to gaze upon it, his childhood armament. A beautiful treasure, it seemed to fit within a noble hand, and not the hands of a lowly Thief like Assa. But he did not steal it. Like Ero’s pair of daggers, it was their mother's legacy, before her dreaded capture.

But despite its glamour, Assa found it pale in comparison to Ero’s daggers. These daggers, testified by himself, would imbue its wielder with an overflowing sense of bloodlust, the bloodstains on their blades as if enchanted with a killing instinct. Meanwhile, Assa's sword was little more than a decorative object.

"Tch, why did you get the good ones?" Assa said.

"It was better in my hands," Ero said bluntly.

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"Hm? I'm not so sure about that."

"I believe this has been the case since we were twelve, no? The gap can only get bigger between us."

True was that Ero had a certain attunement to the twin blades that Assa could not grasp. However, he did not appreciate such a tone from his brother. "Ouch, your tongue is as sharp as your blades, brother. Watch out or you might kill the fun out of everything, too."

"Can we just grab something to eat already," growled Ero.

"Yes, m’lord," replied Assa snidely.

Assa and Ero exited the building, into an overgrown garden littered with withering shrubs and tombstones. Stories told that this mansion was once a dwelling of a Lord, and this garden a burial site for his family, sometimes foes, and perhaps even virgins for Dark God Dameth. No one was really sure, but what they were sure of was the sound of screamings at night, seemingly far away, but at the same… right next to their ears!

Scaling the garden's worn walls with agility, they slipped through the woods, their tracks concealed by the whispering leaves. This forsaken mansion, avoided for the dread it inspired, went unclaimed; its ghostly inhabitants preferred confined to this cursed ground rather than roaming the Cite. Of course, this mansion's spooky anomalies was nothing but a terrible farce, maintained by Assa and Ero’s little handiworks. A place of fear and resentment to outsiders, but a haven for them.

With no eyes upon them, they emerged from the woods and walked the old road, savouring the morning's coolth and the sea's salty breeze. Around them, humble wooden houses and fields of crops lay tranquilly, a respite before the hustle of the Cite centre in the near distance.

Assa gazed over to see Ero walking with his head bowed, and despite his brother usually aloof expression, Assa could tell whenever he was troubled:

"What's that? Woke up on the wrong side today?" said Assa.

"I had that dream again," said Ero.

Assa fell silent for a moment, before whispering: "Same as me, then."

"I feel like," Ero grabbed his forehead as his eyebrows wrinkled, "the days I still haven't saved her are the days I will continue to have this nightmare."

"I feel the same way."

"But we must save her, and we must be able to save her first, before it's too late," Ero’s nails bit into his forehead

Assa slapped Ero’s shoulder.

"Come on, let's get breakfast first. How about we get some of your favourites? Plain bread."

Approaching the centre, houses grew dense. The gravel path turned into stone, straining under the barrage of horses and wagons. Assa and Ero entered an alley brimming with blacksmiths forging weapons, while above, smoke snaked across a choked sky. This ancient island city, taking advantage of its location off the coast of the eastern Cyrenic Sea, established itself as the Crossroad City. Weapon Capital was another of its titles, for it supplied a robust amount of classical arms that were renowned for their high durability and low maintenance.

Yet, this reputation came at a price. Feeder of Wars, Death Smoke City were a few of its unfavourable names, its reputation marred by oil-slick cobblestones and a choked sky. As he walked, Assa turned his focus to the weapon displays, away from the coughing beggars, a stark reminder of the city's most disparaging title, Street Rat City.

The sky cleared to a vast blue as Assa and Ero entered a grand market square. The sound of hammering iron was quickly drowned out by the cacophony of footsteps, horses cantering, and lively chatter. The square was alive with activities, with pedestrians, animals, and carriages flowing like streams from seven avenues, mingling among the swarm of various carts and stands. A large fountain stood tall in the centre. The air carried a hint of freshly baked goods.

For most people within this square, this city was their home, and they called it…

Trianna Cite.

Assa and Ero wandered around the fountain, passed by a playing bard, some couples of lovers, a group of gossipers, a fortune teller (the phoney type), and eventually stumbled upon a large bread stall, its shelves overflowing with warm, golden loaves that seemed to beckon them closer.

"Hey! You gotta pay for that!"

Thus, a ragged young boy, whose paws were grubbing a singular loaf of bread, came into view. Flustered, he hurriedly pushed the crowd apart and made his escape. "Guards! Guards! Someone catches him," the stallowner belted.

But no one did anything, for the citizens here were all occupied with their own affairs, and there was no guard around them. It was unclear whether it was apathy from the onlookers, or perhaps a hidden understanding among them.

Assa left the stand, and from the crowd Ero emerged behind. "Assa," he called out, before tossing a loaf of bread toward Assa.

"Well done," said Assa, catching the bread.

They ate the bread while browsing around, and stumbled upon some meat sticks and a couple of apples, all offered free of charge by the shop owners, albeit involuntarily.

Suddenly, a barrage of noises rose above the usual bustles of the market—the sound of marching, of synchronised cantering of horses, of heavy armoured steps. Before long, a rhythmic bellow in warning followed.

"Make way! Make way! Dangerous prisoner is being transported! Make way! Make way!"

Thus the sea of people parted ways for the oncoming march. Above them, the windows of surrounding buildings were thrown open, and curious faces peered out.

A host of a dozen Cavaliers marched in the vanguard, followed by a dozen Spearmen, then a cage shrouded in black cloth, and lastly, a dozen Archers bringing up the rear. The prisoner was surely housed within, yet hidden from sight.

"So many soldiers!" Assa overheard a murmured conversation in the crow.

"Looks important. Do you think it might be King Karel’s men? I heard they’re still around, plottin’ something."

"Don’t say ‘King’ dumbass! They're gonna kill you!"

That Assa could infer, but most intriguing was the fact that the prisoner was hidden from public eyes, much to his dissatisfaction. Assa glanced around, his mind racing with various plans of interference. Then, from the corner of his eyes, he saw a chicken.

As the troop marched on, but seemingly out of nowhere, a hen bounded across their path, flapping her wings and squawking in a panic. At this moment, Assa lunged toward the bird.

"Noooo Cluckoo! Come back here!" he cried.

He threw himself to the ground, appearing to chase after the bird. The march was brought to a halt. The startled Cavaliers reined in their horses who neighed loudly, and the Spearmen shifted uneasily.

"Watch it, fool!" the front rider shouted. "Can’t you see we’re on an important mission?!"

"Oh no, I'm sorry, sir! I tried to stop her, really! But she's always such a lively girl."

"Get lost!"

"By the way, brave soldiers, I see that you are transporting a prisoner, would you mind telling us who might that be?"

Suddenly the Cavalier brandished his spear and pointed at Assa's neck. "Why would you want to know?"

"No, my good sir!" Assa stammered. "I meant no harm, honest. I only wish to offer my aid should the prisoner escape, so that we may report him to the authorities. Right?"

"Hm! Your concern is unnecessary, peasant," he scoffed. "We have elite infantry and sentries, there is not a sliver of chance that she can escape…"

"..."

The Cavalier suddenly swallowed his words. It seemed like he himself realised what a blunder he had just committed, and took out his anger on Assa, "BEGONE, NOW! Or I will skewer you for interrupting the Crown’s officials!"

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I will be going back now," Assa bowed half-heartedly before scurrying away.

Assa slid his way through the crowd as a black cloaked figure followed him, and slipped into a dark door-less alley. Under its shadow, he beheld his fellow Assassin brother and saw an unusual dumb smile across his face. That was all the information that they needed.

"Let’s go to the Flying Rodent," Assa said.

Walking the dark alleys, Assa collected his thoughts.

... there is not a sliver of chance that ‘she’ can escape.

The prisoner was female. A female prisoner is already a rarity, even more so when she was also kept under tight wraps, and escorted by a large troop of soldiers. If it were just any criminal, they would no doubt be paraded around for condemnation of the public. But for a political prisoner, keeping their identity secret would be more preferable if they don't want to rouse the enemy's attention. She must be someone of great importance to warrant a security of such calibre, perhaps…

"Assa," Ero spoke in a hushed tone.

"Yeah, I know."

They were being followed. Thus, Assa and Ero hastened their pace, and raced through the labyrinthine alleys. They took sharp turns and sudden detours, always staying one step ahead. Who could that be? He had little information to deduce the culprit. Perhaps his little act at the market may have roused too much suspicion. But whoever it was, they would not catch them.