Nobilis Vae
"Alexzander Endvita Ciaran! I have called, I have yelled, and I have sent servant Serviet to fetch you! Yet you disobey my orders! What is the meaning of this disobedience!" Lord Ciaran said. The exasperated teenager, Alexzander, rolled his eyes and went back to his artwork, on it showed a visualization of his room, it held a gloomy atmosphere with the window shedding the single source of light.
"I was going to attend, but my drawing needed some finishing touches. So I told Serviet to wait a moment. I was almost done finishing up the details until you barged into my room." The teen hissed out. He turned away from his father and proceeded to add some final details in his artwork. The father's face became flushed, hot, and at his limit. Patience was not a quality the lord represented. Perhaps that is why there isn't a Lady Ciaran, well, there used to be one. She's likely rotting in some unnamed grave. Of course that fact is hidden from the child. Complicating his relationship with his heir was not on Lord Ciaran's list. He wanted his legacy to continue for centuries. For his name to be feared by the masses, forever. After all, who wants everything they've ever accomplished to crumble? Especially so when you've created an entire empire.
For a brief moment, Lord Ciaran considered the idea of punishing the boy, but halted when a devious plan began to form. His mind began to turn and his face adopted a cruel grin that reached the edges of his face.
"Come, my boy. I have something very important to show you. Something that will change your life, forever." The boy turned, surprised at his father's tone. Usually he'd get shouted at, locked in an empty tower for the rest of the day and then disciplined through pain. Only then would his father be slightly satisfied. It was practically a prison, it was no wonder Alexzander disobeyed frequently.
Lord Ciaran turned and swiftly exited the room. Cautiously, he stood up, dusted his robes and followed along. They left the large estate through the Fawkthorne. A recent development of the Ciaran kingdom. The Fawkthorne could soar through the skies and it resembled a Fawkthorne, a lighting bird. And to boast their power, they painted it all gold. Of course it wasn't real gold, the Lord had a sliver of common sense when it came to his kingdom. But when it came to everything else, there was none.
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Looking down, Alexzander stared at the passing villages and mining camps. Alexzander tried to make it out but the most he could perceive was just a blur.
"Lord Ciaran, how long till we're there?" Alexzander said with sarcasm dripping from his voice. The father turned to Alexzander, his face adopting annoyance. It seems he was having a wonderfully one-sided chat with some female worker. She took this moment to escape towards the worker's lounge. It seems that even with all his power and money he still couldn't woo women.
"Damn that witch," He cursed, blaming the crazy sister of his ex-wife, "Soon. Now sit and wait." He ordered.
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The Fawkthorne began to slow down, releasing hot steams on the outer shell. With a heavy thump, it landed on the grass below and the last two members of the Ciaran lineage trekked out without guards. The father deemed there would be no danger towards him in his own kingdom.
Alexzander was confused, in front of them, it looked like a rundown village.
'It's just a village? There's people…in chains…and guards.' Alexzander thought. Hesitating to observe the rest of the village.
Lord Ciaran turned to his son. Amusement donning his face, "Where do you think we gain our power? How do you think we have money and resources, Alexzander?"
'No…'
"Oh yes, Alexzander. We have 'camps'. You see, no one will miss some filthy creature such as those tree sprites. That is how you need to think. You need to look at everything and see an opportunity. Nothing is too high and nothing is too low, because Alexzander, everything my kingdom touches, will be yours one day." Alexzander, couldn't understand. He simply couldn't. Before this, he wouldn't even be able to think of something as monstrous as this.
"S-Slave camps?" He said, still making his way out of shock.
"Yes! Exactly! This, all of this, will be yours! Only then will you be able to continue the Ciaran name. So, tell me Alexzander. For the first time in your life, do you truly feel powerful?" He said and for the first time in years, he smiled…Turning around he scanned Alexzander's face and was satisfied with his shock. Assuming that Alexzander couldn't believe all of this would be his one day. Satisfied he went back to his Fawkthorne. Missing how Alexzander flinched at the crack of a whip and a cry for help.
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The moon shed a small circle of light into the room. Darkness enveloped the entirety of the room, except the circle formed by the moon. There sat Servant Serviet, a servant of Master Ciaran. In front of the halfling servant, stood Alexzander, waiting in the darkness.
He held a pouch full of emerald coins, a satchel and knife.
"Master Ciaran, are you sure? Do you really wish to…leave?" The halfling asked. Alexzander stopped packing his poetry books, and for a moment he looked back at the 'village'. His hands started trembling and his breathing became heavy.
"Yes, I'm sure Serviet. No way in Hviel am I going to be like him." He said with disgust in his voice, "I'm sorry Serviet. Are you sure you can't come with me?" He said softly.
"I'm sure Master Ciaran. I, unfortunately, am bound by a magical contract. But don't worry Master Ciaran. I have already seen adventure and I have lived life. I'm too old to help you, all I can do is give you my best wishes, Master Ciaran." The halfling said. The halfling's face was tired and ridden with wrinkles and he had just a few stray hairs, "But, I can help you take a nice, night walk toward the edges of the estate. Simply to help you clear your mind." Servant Serviet said. The pair grinned at the joke. Silently Alexzander looked back into all of his memories and noticed that all of the memories where was happy were with Serviet. His father isn't by blood but by bond. Alexzander felt flush and was surprised that tears had crept out of his eyes. Serviet smiled, sadly. He knew this was no life for a child, nor is it a life for a child to survive on their own. Out there in the wilderness. But he knew he wouldn't be able to change Alexzander's mind. Not after the hours of past attempts. Alexzander's mind was set in stone and he firmly stood by it.
Controlling himself Alexzander carefully opened his window and he slowly stepped on the ledge, hugging the wall with his back. Together, they made their way down the three story building. Avoiding the watchtower guards and eventually, they made it down.
But before they could silently celebrate a blinding white light shone upon them. Squinting his eyes, Alexzander looked up, making out the silhouette of a guard. Serviet reacted quickly, grabbing Alexzander's hand he pulled him up and they began to run. Unfortunately, Serviet was too small and his age showed, "Quickly run! Do not wait for–"
Alexzander's world fell. Everything seemed to slow down, the body that inched toward the ground still showed life, yet, his best friend, his father, was already dead. A bullet made of pure wind punctured his skull, exiting through, and only then, when it hit the grass, it dissipated.
Alexzander's eyes widened, his pupils dilating, He began to heave and his hands squeezed the grass below.
"Halt your weapons! It's Prince Ciaran!" The watchtower guard shouted as one of the other guards held up his spear.
Breaking out of his stupor, Alexzander dashed toward the forest. None of the guards could catch up due to their heavy armor. Never did they expect the Prince of the Ciaran kingdom to abandon his home.
Alexzander ran, even when his legs felt like it was attached to concrete. Even when his feet felt like it was being punctured by a thousand needles, he ran. Even when he could barely see because of his tears he ran.
Alexzander ran away.
He killed his home.
Alexzander, left his prison.
But at what cost.
Alexzander…ran away, but not from his prison but from his horror.
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A.N.-
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