Ashes of Revenge

Victor sighed as he closed the book he was reading, well more like skimming. His mind had been so preoccupied thinking about the small group that he believed he had read the same page five times and gained nothing from it.

Tossing the book to the side, Victor ran his hands over his face. He didn’t know exactly what it was about the group, but he didn’t fully trust them. There were many things they refused to tell him that should’ve been relatively simple to explain, such as their scars. It was clear what caused Raven’s injuries, but how she specifically got them was still a mystery.

Colt’s scars, Victor guessed, were caused by a knife, most likely another Shifter.

Richard’s one small injury was familiar to Victor, but he didn’t know why. But the Farian’s scarred knuckles were weird. How many times did Richard have to punch someone to get those?

Victor’s head rested against his hand. His eyes naturally fell upon his intricately designed dark brown desk. Books and papers were scattered on the top of it, and they were reflected by a mirror that was the length of the desk. Two small shelves were on either side of it. On the left shelf rested his crown, and the one on the right held a Knight’s helmet, his dad’s.

Victor’s eyes lingered on the helmet as he thought about his father and how, after one mission, he never came back. His dad was one of the Knights that had escorted Raven and her mum into the Farian Kingdom before they were ambushed. He was still wary of Richard and his species - they had taken his father - but the Farian wasn’t like the creature he had imagined. The Prince would never act upon his thoughts like so many of his people did. It would simply be that: thoughts. Honestly, he didn’t know who to blame now.

Since the King had forbidden Fernando and other Knights to go to the Kingdom, he had never gotten to see his father. Never gotten to have a proper funeral for him. Never gotten to say his final goodbye.

The helmet was the only thing he had left; that and a portrait which had been moved into one of the secret rooms. He had never been able to bring himself to look at the picture.

Truth be told, there were times when Victor wouldn’t think about his father. He hated himself every time it would happen but knew it was bound to because of the situation he was put in. He knew he would one day be the Mundus King and rule over the Kingdom.

His to control.

To rule over.

To govern.

To dictate.

To save.

To destroy.

The Mundus Kingdom was already on the brink of war with the Farian Kingdom, and he knew the Shifter and Telik Kingdoms weren’t too far behind. He wondered if he would ascend the throne when the Kingdom was stable and prosperous or if he would ascend when it was in ruins, and there would be no point in him ruling.

Standing up from the window seat, Victor brushed his finger against an engraving in the wall that had been there before he had gotten the room - Raven’s doing. The poor excuse of an engraving simply read: LEROUX FEE. He had spent years trying to figure out why Raven had put the name of the Farian Prince, now the King, on her wall, especially with his nickname of a Monstro in Farian’s clothing. The only connection he could make was that it was where Raven and her mum were taken, but she had written it before she went to the Kingdom, so that small bit of knowledge answered absolutely nothing.

Victor’s finger left the wall, and he walked over to his crown. Picking it up, he spun it around with his fingers, flipping it over and over again, and he found it was heavy on his head but light in his hands. He wondered if that’s how the Kingdom would be too - light and smooth while watching, but when having to deal with it, exhausting and burdensome. If that was the case, then he dreaded becoming King.

The King was by no means perfect, often shoving aside Victor and even Dara for the Kingdom. He understood why the King did so, though. But he wished that he was more or less like his actual father, always making time for both him and his mum. However, he understood that the responsibility of a Knight and a King was on two different worlds, and he respected that.

Victor finally stopped flipping the crown. His eyes drifted to his father’s helmet again, the only thing he had, or could withstand to have, of his father’s possessions. Gently placing the crown back on the ledge, he walked over to it.

Victor tried to recreate his father’s face. Brown hair that was styled in a low ponytail? Brown eyes? Dark olive skin? Wrinkles under his eyes? Dimples whenever he smiled? Mustache? Beard? Scruff? Clean-shaven?

Victor felt tears swell in his eyes when he realized he was starting to blend his father’s and the King’s faces. What kind of a son did that?!

Victor breathed heavier.

In an attempt to calm himself down, he desperately tried to think of other details. Over six feet - six-two? Buff build? Or was he leaner? No, he was buff. He had calloused hands. He did have dimples! Did he have a mustache, beard, scruff, or was he clean-shaven? After not being able to decide between scruff and a beard, he chose scruff. Now, Victor decided to stick to the details he knew his father had. He had brown hair that was always pulled back into a low ponytail. He limped faintly due to an injury by a . . . - he looked at the helmet - sword! On the helmet, the Mundus seal was engraved into the side. He had the Mundus brand on his wrist. He . . . He . . .

Victor looked at the helmet and closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember. . . . He couldn’t remember anything else! He collapsed in his chair as he continued to stare at the armor.

" . . . I’m sorry . . .” he said to the helmet. He placed his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.” He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out for a few seconds.

“Mum is doing well . . . she still sews,” he finally said as he pathetically laughed. “Now that you’re gone, she gives me everything she makes . . . so thanks.” He laughed again and wiped his face.

Silence fell upon the two.

“I a . . . I think I’m going to go hang out with her.” He smiled as he stood up and wiped his eyes one last time. Grabbing the tip of his sleeve, he rubbed it against the metal, removing a smudge.

He walked out of the room and up to the library, where he knew his mum would be. Dara was sitting in a chair, sewing something.

“Hi, honey,” Dara said.

“Hey, mum.”

“I see you’ve reached your limit of boredom for the day, and now you’ve resulted to visiting me.”

“Can I not visit my mum and want to hang out?” Victor plopped down in a chair.

Dara’s eyes left whatever it was she was sewing and made eye contact with him. He shifted beneath her gaze. She smiled and faintly laughed as she began to work again. “I’m not offended, honey.” Dara’s lovely smile remained. Her smile was so contagious that Victor found the corners of his mouth curling up.

Victor leaned his head back and tilted it to the side, looking at a bookcase. He wanted to ask Dara what his father actually looked like but felt it would hurt her too much.

“Mum?”

“Yes?” Her eyes glued to the fabric.

“Why did you invite them here?”

“Not only is Elizabeth the Princess and this her home, but I felt as though the group might want a break from their time on the road.”

“I feel like they don’t even want to be here, though.”

“I feel the same way.”

“Then why do you allow them to stay?”

“I hope when you’re older, and King, you will show compassion and help those who are in need, even when they don’t want it.”

“So, are you just doing this to make yourself feel better?” Victor mumbled, his eyes falling upon a red book. He felt as though kindness was something that should be earned. To receive kindness, one must be kind.

“No, I do it because they are less fortunate than us. I married Elizabeth’s father a month after she and her mum were taken, which has to have rightfully upset her.”

“But there was a threat of war if there was no heir to the throne.”

“I’m not sure that that makes up for anything in Elizabeth’s mind. And justly so.”

Victor’s eyes left the books and traveled to his mum. “But you married the King a month after dad was killed, and I’m not as hateful as Raven.”

“That’s because you gained something; Elizabeth lost everything and then found out someone else had gained what she had. With you in the picture, it’s no longer about blood, but rather a choice.”

Victor fell into silence, and he felt somewhat guilty for taking the crown and throne from Raven - despite that meaning she would have to marry a Noble or Royal. It was technically hers, but it no longer mattered about fair or unfair, merely a choice that would be biased.

“Do you think . . .” Victor trailed off, his eyes falling on yet another book. “Do you think I’ll be a good King?”

Dara’s eyes left the needle and thread and looked at her son. She felt terrible for him - for the position she had unintentionally put him in. “I know you’ll be a great King . . . only if you don’t abuse your power.”

Victor turned on his side and sighed heavily. “When will you and him step down?”

“Whenever Arthur decides it’s time to.”

“Do you think he’ll leave me when the Kingdoms are at their worst?” His voice was soft.

Dara gave a faint, sad smile as her gaze fell away from her son. “You know I can’t answer that question.”

“The other day, Fernando said the King forbade any Knights from going into the Farian Kingdom to look for Raven or her mum. Why would he not allow them to go? Why would he do that?!” Every question he asked held more stress than the last.

“I don’t know,” Dara said. “Honey, you know I can’t answer these questions.”

“Who can?! Raven doesn’t talk to me, and I don’t want to ask the King! The only person who would have any idea of why is Fernando!” Victor stopped talking, and he sat up, propping his body upon his arm. “Do you think the Captain would have any knowledge about Arthur’s decisions?”

“If it doesn’t involve war, then no.”

“But Raven was taken, and her mum was killed, shouldn’t there have been a threat of war?. . . . Didn’t they sign a Treaty shortly after?!”

“I don’t know the logistics about what happened. Maybe you should ask Elizabeth.”

Victor allowed his body to fall on the couch again. He sighed heavily through his nose and ran a limp hand through his hair.

“Honey, I don’t think you should be stressing about Elizabeth’s life, as harsh as that might sound. If she wanted to tell us anything, then she would’ve.”

Victor pursed his lips and turned onto his back. As much as he hated to leave the little mystery, he knew it was the best thing to do. He would more than likely be crowned King, and focusing on occurrences that didn’t involve the well being of the Kingdom was a waste of his time.

However, despite probably never getting to know why Raven was taken, what happened to her, or how she fully came to be with Richard and Colt, he couldn’t help but push those questions to the front of his mind.

Whether or not he would ask them was undecided.

***

The small group walked through the hoards of people in the peasant Market. All of their hoods were on their heads, and Richard and Colt had made it a point to hide their over-shirts. They did look more suspicious, but it was better than people knowing they were a Shifter and Farian.

The servants had disposed of their dirty clothes, so they were stuck with the colorful ones until they bought more. They wished when Dara had offered to buy them clothes, they had taken her up on the offer.

Bowls of spices were shoved in their faces.

The smell of breads wafted through the earthly air.

The harsh leather odor wrapped around them from nearby cobblers.

Metal on metal shot through their ears as blacksmith’s made various weapons.

The only thing that caught Raven’s eyes was the Royal Message Board - where the scribes would hang messages from the King to his people. The majority of them were the King telling the people of the Kingdom’s financial state and what he was doing to help his people. The only thing wrong with it was that Raven knew he was lying. He was blaming the other Kingdoms for refusing to help and buy more crops and while that was true, the King allowed them to do so with not so much as a raised finger in protest. The latest letter placed blame onto the Kingdoms she knew would not side with Onyx and therefore the Mundus’: the Farians.

Richard and Colt read along with her and at once, the three departed in order not to destroy the board. The King was lying to his people in order not to allow any of the blame to fall upon the Royals and Nobles.

Shoving through the crowd, they finally spotted a clothing store with no sign. A giant piece of dirty green fabric made up the roof and walls, blowing and flapping with the wind. Sloppily hung and folded clothes were randomly scattered around the small shop. One man stood in it, the owner.

The small group walked in, finding it very difficult for them not to bump into anything.

The owner looked up with tired eyes as his messy, tangled long brown hair blew in the wind. His face perked up at the aspect of customers, but when his eyes landed on the red and blue - now more visible because of the wind - his face fell. Some Mundus wore other colors than green, but they were always muted, never the royal blue or crimson red.

“I don’t serve yer kind here.”

“There was no sign,” Raven quickly remarked.

“We have money,” Richard said, “we only want to buy different clothes.”

“What part of ‘I don’t serve yer kind here’ is unclear?”

“Are yeh being serious?” Colt asked.

“Yeah, yeh bloodthirsty creature.”

Colt stepped forward, and Richard quickly grabbed him, pulling him out of reach from the shop owner.

“We’ll leave,” Richard said. He shoved Colt out of the shop and proceeded to walk out.

“Don’t come back yeh air-filled arse,” the owner said after the Farian. It took all of Richard’s strength not to turn around and punch out a few of the man’s terrible looking teeth.

Raven looked at the man, and he looked at her.

“I don’t serve yer kind, either.”

“I’m a Mundus.”

“Ar’ yer?” The man asked as he leaned in closer, observing her face. “Yeh look more like a Monstro.”

Raven cleared her throat, and her head twitched slightly.

“Hurt him, my dear,” Death whispered in her ear. “He’s disrespected your friends and now you. All you want to do is buy clothes from this man.” Raven had to admit the suggestion was tempting, and she was so tired and stressed out that she almost listened to him.

“No, I’m a Mundus an’ I just wanna buy clothes.”

“Yeh ar’ a trader, hangin’ out with a Farian an’ Shifter.”

“Are yeh gonna let me buy clothes or not?”

“Nah, I’m not. Now, get out of my shop.”

“Don’t listen to him, my dear,” Death whispered in her ear. Raven felt as a headache washed over her, pounding throughout her entire head. Death’s fingers tightly gripped her shoulders.

“I’m a Mundus in the Mundus Kingdom tryin’ to buy clothes.”

“I don’t bloody care, now get out of my shop.”

“Ok, fine,” Raven puffed out as she turned around.

“Raven!” Death yelled. His voice echoed throughout her head and body, awakening something in her like when she fought Oliver. The violence flowed through her body like she always wanted it to, except this time, she didn’t push it down.

Before she could stop herself, her fist collided with the owner’s face — the metal plates on her gloves, adding more force than usual.

The owner fell to the dirty ground. Whether Death moved Raven or she moved, she didn’t know. Nevertheless, she began to stomp on his face and chest with as much force as she could obtain.

Raven was so mad, so tired, so stressed out, so overall done with everything that this stupid owner had pushed her over the edge.

Her boot continued to stomp on his chest, hit his throat, bend his nose, stomp in his teeth. Raven couldn’t stop.

She didn’t want to stop.

Death stood over them and smiled one of the widest smiled he had.

Arms wrapped around Raven’s waist, and she was quickly dragged out of the shop. The person managed to get out of view before she grabbed the person’s hands and pried them off her. Spinning around, she was face to face with Colt.

Richard grabbed her shoulders and moved the group farther away.

“Raven, what are yeh doin’?” Colt asked in a concerned voice.

It took Raven a moment to realize what it was she had done.

“He can’t just disrespect yeh guys like that!” Her words were flying out as fast as she could think of them. “He can’t just do that! It’s not right. It’s-”

“Raven,” Richard said, cutting her off. His voice wasn’t harsh like she had expected. He gently turned her around. “We are in tha Mundus Kingdom; we don’t expect to be treated well.” His hand grabbed her collar and straightened it out. “Yeh have been mistreated in tha Farian Kingdom; Colt throughout the Kingdoms; and I in the Monstro Kingdom. Why are yeh just now gettin’ upset about this?”

She ran her fingers through her deformed hairline. “I don’t know.”

“There must be a reason,” Colt said.

“Say what you wish, my dear.” Raven’s eyes shifted to Death for a split second before they reverted to Richard. Colt and Richard looked at where she had glanced and found that they were looking at a tree.

“I’m just . . .” - she trailed off and bit her lip for a second. Her hand brushed against her nose - “. . . on edge because tha King comes tomorrow.” The partial lie sounded natural.

“Yeh don’t have to stay here,” Colt said with a hint of hope in his voice. He wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of separating from Raven, especially with the way she had been acting the past few days.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Very good, my dear,” Death said as he smiled.

“Bram an’ Mark can handle things,” Richard added.

“Yer not changin’ my mind,” Raven said, overall defeated at this point. She looked away from them and to the shop, where a small mass of people had accumulated. Fortunately, they were far enough away not to be drawing attention. “We either need to leave tha Market or go back to tha Castle.”

Colt and Richard nodded, knowing what she was doing and hating that they were allowing her to do this. The last thing they wanted to do was allow her to stay, but she seemed hellbent on the idea.

When they made it back to the Castle, they grabbed their horses and rode off before anyone could stop them.

Raven slapped the reins against Herbert as she stood up in the stirrups, allowing Herbert to run as fast as he could. The proper food and care he had received the past few days were proving helpful. She hoped that if he ran quickly enough, she would outrun all of her problems and, most importantly, Death.

Something slowly came into view. She turned her head, finding herself staring at Death, who was riding his skeletal horse. He was more or less smirking at her, his hair being pushed and moved by the wind so much it resembled black fire.

Colt came beside Raven, and Death thankfully disappeared - Richard on her other side. They broke off into the forest onto a small trail.

Raven’s headache seemed to decrease by the second, and her body began to feel strong once more.

Looking ahead once more, she slapped the reins again, running away from the Castle and all the problems that were embedded in it.

***

The groups’ horses trotted over the drawbridge and into the yard.

The sun was setting, and the Markets were closing, sending the entire village into stillness.

Raven’s face fell when she saw Fernando standing next to the stables; both hands pressed to the small of his back.

As the stable boys grabbed the horses’ reins, Fernando kept pace with them. “I was informed of an assault in the Market today,” Fernando said.

“What makes yeh think it was us?” Raven asked, getting down from Herbert and petting him.

“The man mentioned a Farian, Shifter, and burned Mundus.”

“That’s one of tha biggest coincidences I’ve ever heard.” Raven grabbed some hay and allowed Herbert to eat out of her hand. “I’m sure tha man deserved it.” Raven was still paying more attention to Herbert than to Fernando.

“Why did you do it?”

“What makes yeh think I did it?”

“Because the man said the burned girl attacked him.”

“Another fine coincidence.”

“Raven-”

“He deserved what he got.” Raven began to run her hand up and down Herbert’s nose.

Throughout the conversation, Colt had been leaning against his horse, and Richard had been stiffly standing there.

“It doesn’t matter, you can’t do that to people.”

Raven wasn’t particularly fond of the persona Fernando was taking on - intentionally or unintentionally.

“Shouldn’t yeh be concernin’ yerself with Victor, he could have gotten a papercut an’ be requestin’ yer services.”

“Raven,” Richard warned with a stern set face. She brushed her hand against her nose and cleared her throat. “I think it’s best if we oll go to bed,” Richard added.

Raven walked off, along with Richard, Colt, and Fernando. A tense silence fell between everyone as they entered the Castle.

Fernando separated from the group, feeling like he wasn’t wanted at the moment, or any moment to be exact.

Now alone, they all relaxed once more. Colt leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. Richard allowed his wings to expand. Raven leaned her back against the stone.

“Are we oll clear on tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Colt said.

“Walk me through it,” Raven said. It was for all their benefits, so no one protested.

“I an’ Colt will leave before tha King arrives. Yeh will stay here, we’ll go to tha border village, then we’ll come back an’ our plan will fall into action.”

Raven nodded; it was definitely risky, but if it went as planned, then it would be worth it.

“Any questions?” she asked as she breathed out.

“No,” Richard said.

Colt remained silent.

“Colt?” Richard asked.

“Nah, I’m clear,” he mumbled. They knew he wasn’t too happy about Raven staying here. She was just pleased he wasn’t saying anything about it.

“Ok, night,” Richard said. He grabbed Raven’s hand and placed a soft kiss against it. He turned to Colt. “Go to sleep. We have a long day of travelin’ tomorrow.” Colt nodded. Richard walked to his room.

Silence fell between Raven and Colt as they looked at each other.

“Yeh know,” Colt began, “I’m flattered that yeh beat up a man for me.”

“I thought we olready went over this. It wasn’t for yeh.”

Colt raised an eyebrow in question.

“He was rude to me, too,” she defended.

“Yeh don’t have to lie; there’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about.”

“Did yeh even hear what I just said?” Raven protested.

“Yeh were really goin’ at him.”

“Are yeh even listenin’?”

“I was kinda impressed.”

“Yer unbelievable.”

“Thanks for the compliment, but I don’t think I am.” Colt winked.

“It’s not a compliment an’ yeh are.”

“Yeh were tha one that stomped in a guys face today.”

“That was a one-time thing.”

Colt squinted his eyes. “But it still happened.”

“I hate yeh.”

“Nah, yeh don’t.”

“Yeah, I do,” Raven added.

“Yeh wanna know how I know yeh don’t?” Raven raised an eyebrow. “Because yeh beat up a man for me today.”

“Oh my gosh!”

Colt smiled at Raven’s increasing, amusing distress.

“I just want yeh to know that I would do tha same for yeh,” Colt said as he placed his hand on his chest.

“So kind.” Raven sarcastically batted her eyelash.

“I know.”

Raven rolled her eyes, and Colt continued to smile at her.

“Go to bed!” Richard yelled from his room, his voice shooting past the closed door.

Colt held up his hands and pushed himself off the wall. “Yeh heard mum,” he said.

“That was for yeh. I don’t have a bedtime.”

“Well, aren’t we special?” Colt opened his door.

“Indeed, I am.” Raven smiled. “Night.”

“Night.” With that, Colt closed his door.

Raven slowly walked into her room, knowing Death would be there.

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