Chapter 22

The Mountain Keep of Chirock

Emeria

Emeria strolled through the hall of Chirock, noting the differences in architecture and style. The Chirock architecture was far more detailed and elaborate than what was in Sacrotia. The craftsman of Chirock had carved intricate tales into the very stone that made up the castle, whereas the stonework in Sacrotia was rather plain and dull. “I’ll have to force a few of them to come and etch my conquest into the stone of my castle,” Emeria mused to herself. She walked back into the throne room, the one room that was eerily similar to her own. There were scarce little differences from what Emeria could see, tapestries mainly, but the one real difference was in the throne. Where hers was a dark crimson coloring, the throne in Sacrotia was a polished stone that showed veins of different materials running through it.

Graclose sat in a chair back from the throne, his head in his hands. He mumbled incoherently to himself but went silent upon realizing Emeria was in the room. “Don’t look so glum you old bag of bones,” she said playfully to him. “You’ve been so melancholic since I took over your kingdom. You need to brighten up a little.” She made a predatory grin in his direction before sitting down on his throne. Graclose sat, never breaking his gaze upon the floor, not daring to make eye contact. “Come now, I’ve given you a fantastic opportunity. You’ve been here so long and all you’ve done is maintain the status quo. Now thanks to me, you get to be a part of history in the making, a part of something that truly matters.” Again he gave her no response. “Well fine then, stay depressed, it won’t change your part in upcoming events. It just means that you’re terrible company.” Emeria’s taunts continued to fall on deaf ears until she was interrupted by someone else entering the throne room.

The man was a spy in the Sacrotian military, bearing the rank and marks from battle to prove his loyalty to his queen. He strode up towards Emeria, stopping at the stairs just before the throne before kneeling and bowing his head. “My queen, I have information that is important to the success of the Sacroation conquest.” He waited for a reply, not moving his head for fear of meeting his queen’s gaze rudely.

“Out with it then, I have no patience for formalities,” Emeria said, though in truth it was her insistence on formalities that made the men worry when they had to deliver such messages. “Look at me and say what you know.”

“I have just returned from Aroster with the news my queen. The man you told me to observe has been spotted at last and it appears that he is now on the move. I believe that he is traveling with citizens from Draeton, one appearing to be a knight based on the emblems on their saddlebags.” The spy pulled a small stone from his pocket and held it up, with a small flicker a projection of Kraevos, Sani, Aren, and Vella appeared in the air. “There appear to be four of them, my queen. I apologize, my queen, they were able to get outside the city before I could intervene.”

Emeri shifted around in the throne, kicking her legs over the arm as she thought. “Well, I suppose that isn’t good news, but at the same time, it does make this game far more interesting to know that such an experienced player is involved. More pieces are assembling on the board.” She turned her head back towards the spy. The spy handed Emeria the stone as he attempted to maintain his composure. “Go fetch Moren, tell him I have need of his services and he should come here right away.” At once the spy rose and rushed out of the room, letting out a sigh of relief for surviving giving his queen bad news.

“Well, I should have known that Dracyr would at least try and convince the old man to help. He’s the one person she recognizes as being wiser than herself, an arrogant fool. Being wise or clever does not win a war, brutal force does.” Emeria sat and thought for a moment before continuing to ponder aloud. “I am surprised he seems to be helping her though. He has stayed out of our affairs for so long, what exactly could have convinced him? He is a most intriguing player for my game.” She looked over at Graclose. “Aren’t you supposed to know him? If the rumors are true you’ve been around almost as long as him.” Her words were met with no response again. “Come now, you remember Kraevos don’t you? The man who gave you the power? The man who set up our glorious kingdoms?” At the mention of the name Kraevos, Graclose shuddered. “Well then, so you do remember him.” She let out a cackle, “I would love to be able to meet him, I’m sure there is so much that he could tell me about my gifts. It would be nice to be able to thank him for all this power that I have, though I doubt he will be so willing to meet me.”

As Emeria continued to think out loud, Moren stepped into the throne room and lumbered up to the throne. He stood in a terse silence before Emeria spoke. “Now now, we’ve gone over this so many times. A dog bows before its master.” She clenched her fist and Moren’s body shuddered with a red glow as he dropped to one knee. “Good boy,” Emeria said gleefully. She stood up from the throne and began to dust herself off. “You know I’ve called you dusty sarcastically,” she said looking over at Graclose, “Though based on the grime on your throne I think it just might be true.” She walked up to Moren and released her fist, the red glow surrounding him stopped.

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Emeria placed a hand under Moren’s chin and tilted his head up so he was making very direct eye contact with her. “I have need of your skillset huntsmaster.” She held her hand away from him and a red glow pulsed across his body, forcing him rigidly upright. He locked his eyes on her, barely flinching as waves of pain crossed his entire body. Emeria held out the stone and the image of Kraevos, Sani, Aren, and Vella appeared again. “I need you to find these people, they are of the greatest interest to me. I want you to track them down and take care of them. I would prefer if you were able to bring them back to me alive so I can interrogate them, but if you cannot, oh well. If they die, they die; blood begets blood and all that. At least that’s what matters for these three,” she said as she motioned at Sani, Aren, and Vella. She then pointed at Kraevos, “Him on the other hand, I need him alive. I honestly doubt you could kill him if you wanted to, slippery old fool has lived long enough that he has to know plenty of tricks. He has information that could prove invaluable to the growing Sacrotian empire and our current and future conquests.”

Moren’s eyes widened, It was taking all his energy not to scream out in pain, so he couldn’t help but react when he saw the image of Kraevos. He knew him as well as any living person did. He was a welcome guest of the forest and the one who helped to run the ceremony that passed the title of Moren from one to the next. His people referred to him as the great tamer, the man who tamed no simple beast, but magic itself. He had not seen Kraevos since the ceremony to name him Moren, but he did think fondly of the wise old man. He knew he had immense power, the likes of which very few had ever possessed. Moren mumbled out “Kraevos” as his concentration wavered.

“Well then, I suppose this means you know him,” Emeria said disappointedly. “I suppose that helps though, means you know what you’re up against. Though I suppose it could also mean you have some bond with the man, either way, he’s your prey, my hunter.” She looked at Moren, he was one of Emeria’s most prized possessions. He was a hunter without equal, surely if anyone could track Kraevos, Moren would be able to whether Kraevos wanted to be found or not. “You know he can change his form right?” Moren nodded in reply. “Excellent, though I suppose for a hunter of your caliber that matters very little. If you are half of what the tall tales make you out to be this should be a simple walk in the park.”

“Why must I find him?” Moren asked sharply.

Emeria stepped back to the throne and sat down with a smile on her lips. “Well simply because I aid so, what more reason could anyone need?”

“The whims of a child aren’t enough to make me hunt a man,” Moren replied angrily.

Emeria’s eyes flashed red as she stared at Moren. “Watch your tone dog, I am your queen.”

“You are an abomination,” Moren spat back. In all his time around her, that word was the only one he had found that could get a rise out of Emeria.

Emeria’s eyes filled with rage as she jumped from the throne and grabbed Moren by the throat, slamming him to the ground forcefully. Moren struggled to hold back a smile after he hit the ground. Maybe this time he had done it, maybe this time he had angered her enough to free him from his servitude. Emeria’s grip tightened around his throat, her monstrous strength beginning to crush his windpipe. She kept a steady pressure as she leaned in putting her lips close to Moren’s ear. “Not today Huntsmaster. Taunt me all you like, but I am not so foolish as to free you from your cage.” She released his throat and Moren began to wheeze. Emeria stood over him, her eyes a swirling blood red. “You’ll be my dog until you have lived out your usefulness.” She turned around and walked back to the throne, feeling her pulse slow down as the blood drained back away from her eyes. Moren lay on the ground, bruised and defeated with blood trickling across his skin from the scrapes and cuts from impacting the flood. “Now stand up!” Emeria shouted at him.

The red glow rippled across his body and he was pulled from the ground, frozen in place by pain. Emeria turned back to look at him, seeing the cuts and bruises across his body. She stepped closer to him and ran a finger along a line of blood forming on a cut on his temple. She wiped the blood away and the wound sealed as she did. She licked her finger clean, “You do have rather exquisite-tasting blood though. If you ever do run out of your usefulness I may just have to feats on you.” She hopped back to the throne and released the magic holding Moren. “Now get out of my sight, you have your orders. Hunt my dog and find the prey I seek.” Moren turned to leave, dejected and defeated once more. He was still stuck in his bizarre servitude to Emeria. He could feel, he could think, but his body would betray him for her will, at the moment, Emeria’s will was stronger and that was all that mattered. No matter how much he taunted, instigated, and tried to pick a fight with her, she would not kill him. This he thought was the truly scary thing about Emeria. On the outside, she seemed like an uncontrollable monster, but that was not the case. It wasn’t that Emeria couldn’t control herself, it’s that she chose not to. She was in control at all times.

He walked down the hall, cursing his fate as he was forced to follow orders. Here he was, the supposed leader of the people of the forest, and yet his will had been broken. He gathered his weapons and his tools and went to the hangar to find his mount. He saddled up the moss dragon that he had raised since he was a child and gave it a firm pat on the nose. “You are the only thing that still makes me feel human my friend.” He cast a tracking charm on himself and on the dragon to help them better find Kraevos. After all, a man with that much magic, no matter how clever he was, had to put off such a strong scent and aura that it would only be a matter of time until they found him. Moren raised himself onto his mount and with a heavy heart set off. He hoped that Kraevos, the great tamer, would be strong enough to break the bond Emeria had placed on him, or at the very least that he would be strong enough to end the suffering he was going through.