NOTE: :grin::victory: Alright, here's a different approach I'm going to try, this is basically a retelling of what I had done originally, I have just the beginning so far along with some other parts that should come up later. The beginning prologue is a bit old, but that's only because I can't seem to find the inspiration to write a new one, but you know how it is . So without further ado:
Michelle swiveled in her mahogany chair, coming face to face with her sister, Queen Selyene. “Is there any particular reason you wish this soul… released from my devout care?” Michelle’s soft lavender eyes searched her twin’s own black, soulless orbs.
“I am a servant of your will. Your majesty.” Michelle threw her boots off the desk, and rose in her white and lavender heavy cloak, woven around her uniform like a second skin.
“None-the-less, I don’t have to like you going through my convicts to suite your own goals.” She brushed patches of snow of snow from her short and silky raven hair. “My gut tells me that I will have to let the slight go, however, since there’s very little I can do about any of this.”
The Queen shook her head gravely at her. “Ever the gloomy one. You’ve always been like this. Constantly playing the lonely dungeon keeper with your cruel antics.” Selyene’s gaze held bountiful wisdom and uncompromising nobility within itself. A trait that came with her maturity and age that slightly gnawed at her complexion. One look at her sister was eerily similar to looking into her past reflections. Her younger self, the pride and joy of the royal family. Unfortunately none of that had changed since she had taken the throne. Michelle had proven a reluctant heir because of her youth, now the time to take her place in the immediate line of succession had passed her by. “You’re sad because I take what rightly belongs to Irothis? You do realize that you cannot have everything simply by keeping it tucked away?”
“Please, I do not bat an eyelash for such rabble. Let alone care, Selyene.” Michelle couldn’t hide her abrasive snort, cheeks flushing slightly as Selyene cast her stalwart gaze over her quarters. “Time has been busy as of late. You’ll excuse this mess.”
She made her way around the desk to offer a hand for her queen, who took the gesture smiling. She rose to her feet in her black and ruby dress, looking every part of royalty as she did so with grace and practiced fluidity.
“Such work barely makes a difference in the eyes of Irothis for a royal daughter, Michelle, and is beneath you. I do not see the thrill that accompanies fighting alongside the lower class idealists. You could be doing so much more. Even joining a prestigious branch of the military would be a welcome change.” Selyene turned on her heel towards the door, Michelle’s hand in hers. She spoke in hushed tones to her bodyguards on they’re departure. “Do make sure that you keep your weapons out of sight. I would hate to disturb the diligent citizens that work and toil here.”
The two of them headed into the depths of Castle Kazan. The upper levels of the Warden’s dungeon towers were lit by clouded sun and smoldering candlelight spilled from within open offices, creating a flux of colors across the walls of unadorned shoji and fine waxed wood. A pleasant smell of incense lingered, creating a sense of calm in the traditional structure.
Michelle shrugged off her sister’s words, something she had found incredibly easy when her father could no longer say such things to her. “You’re always repeating yourself when it comes to my line of duty for Irothis. Makes me wonder what would happen if I had become the next heir.”
Never underestimate the silver tongues of royalty, Michelle remembered the words of her long deceased father. A piece of advice that would never leave her so long as Selyene remained alive and on a throne. She could always weave her words with honey. Each syllable promised someone’s temptation, another’s dream. All because there lay a glimmer of truth at the bottom of her words. Nothing was out of reach for her to grant, because she was a Queen. Through her just about anything could be made a reality.
Selyene’s next salvo proved a tip of the blade, thrust at her pride and responsibility. “It is not out of your reach, just yet. I’m sure such destinies would forever change your thoughts and cold demeanor. A nation has its ways of seeping into your heart. When the time comes, you will hear of the people’s woes and it will be your divine right and pleasure to bestow upon them measured blessings as well. You will actually care about the future that must be paved for future generations. Preserving not only your own legacy, but that of the royal family and country.”
Michelle flicked through prisoner files, pausing briefly to examine key points. “Well enough about that for now. So what about these prisoners? I’ll need names. Some proper background checks beforehand would be good. I’m sure you don’t want your average cut throat or rapist.””
Once again, Michelle felt her hand being forced by the Queen’s desires. “One of my guards will give you all that I need. Please bring them all and a few others that you feel may fit what I’m searching for.”
The Queen pointed through an open window, out into a flat field blanketed with snow. “Bring them into the prison courtyards at nightfall; there I will proceed to inspect them personally. I hope I can count on you to bring them into line?”
A mischievous smirk played on the younger twin’s lips, mentally rubbing her hands together as she thought up a few names. “A usual procedure here, a necessary chore.”
“Okay, who do we need to pull from isolation then?”
Sooner or later, his fate was going to finally catch up to him. It had been an arduous journey, coming all the way here where the sunlight was pale and constantly strangled by rolling clouds. Controlling his breathing somewhat helped Jasairis’ aching pains. He glanced up with heavy eyes at that gaping hole in the cell where he counted every burst of light signaling another dawn. Each tally added up in his mind was another day he could no longer count on. Down in Isolation, that was really what any one soul could hope to do without rousing suspicion.
“Just the one, Commander. You may have some trouble trying to get him out of his cell, the Overseer says he’s injured.”
His head rolled back down to stare at the floor of his cell, wounded body still slumped against the wall where the Wardens had left him two nights prior. The blood on his back had grown sticky and uncomfortable, the bandages around his torso definitely needed a change. Too sapped of energy for an attempt to climb into his bed, the patched knife wounds in his back and ribcage had begun the slow process of healing none-the-less. At least he was still breathing, whatever good that would do him. The Wardens would come calling tomorrow and see his long awaited execution through. Such was the fate of those bearing bronze seals of Wolf heads on their hands, with a pair of crossed blades underneath. The crest of the royal family, to bear it without their blood was to be in unwelcome company.
Jasairis couldn’t shake the feeling of vertigo nor the misplaced sense of serenity his body felt at being so high above the earth. Isolation was built upon every level that made Kazan’s dungeons. Being locked away in the highest point of the prison left him feeling like he had been left on a mountainside and just out of reach of the peak. In these walls, silence had proved a far more faithful companion than the shadows and strife of the executioner’s row. If only he had been more vigilant, he wouldn’t have taken a stolen knife to his torso and would’ve looked a deal less pathetic than he did now.
“Commander.”
The thunderous echo of gunfire was distant, probably the executions of the less than reputable inmates out in the yards. A pale light rained down from the ceiling and onto the facility, washing the prison in a sterile glow that gave light to Isolation. A body cloaked in midnight robes and bronze scaled armor blocked off his line of sight to his fellows across the hall. He had an assault
rifle slung over his shoulder and his gaze on the code locked doors confining him here.
“Open the door. I have business with one of your captives.” A hiss of vented pressure and moving mechanisms echoed across the cluster small cluster of cells. What had been a moment of reflection just became something tense and uneasy.
The shadows of an unfamiliar figures suddenly eclipsed his light, falling over him like an ominous cloud. “Ah, and here he is, just waiting to tempt fate like all of the others, or is that part of your life repented for, heathen?” Her voice was smooth and harsh, rolling off her tongue with the same cruel judgment that radiated from her soft, lavender eyes. She observed him for his reaction, resorting to falling on a knee for eye contact when she realized he wouldn’t rise to the occasion. “Aren’t you going to talk to me? That’s right; let me see your face… the Overseer was right, you’re a mess right now. You’ve been in here for three nights now, you should be well enough to walk.
Ise. Does he look anything suitable?”
There was another Officer by Michelle’s side, though she appeared somewhat lacking in physical constitution compared to most other guards. Judging by the stack of files carried in a leather bag slung over her shoulder, Jasairis assumed she was an attendant of some sort. She kept glaring at him with her blank expression, sparing an occasional glance back to her papers in hand again and again. She occasionally nodded with her words as she relayed them back to her superior.
“Middling body, quite trimmed, somewhat sloe-eyed and they’re a little far-set. Nose is very blade-like and his features are very sharp, most certainly some Irothan blood in his veins, but his skin is a very pallid shade of mahogany… probably half Irothan and Rynithian or perhaps Eosan? Take at glance at his hair for example...” The attendant risked a couple of steps closer to the cell bars. “His shock of hair could be from either side, it’s very ropy actually. I can’t really place any degree of importance on him at face value, we will have to wait and see what the royal heir says.”
“Thank you, Ise, it is as I thought: there is nothing special about this one. Take him out!” Michelle barked at a trio of Wardens dressed in attire similar to hers. They quickly mobilized into action, approaching the cell with an air of caution mixed with timely practice.
Michelle stood by apathetically, gently prodding Jasairis with a few verbal jabs, no doubt testing invisible limitations that was holding him together, making him tick. “A shame, I find the grey jumpsuit so fitting on you. Truth be told, you will hold interest for only a while. Then we’ll begin the process of breaking you down just a little further, just enough for us to make some use of you.”
The gate of the cell flew open and immediately, two pairs of strong arms wrapped around his own lean ones and hurled him onto the edge of his toes as they dragged him before the Commander Warden.
“Knock him out.”
Before Jasairis could even open his mouth to protest, the edge of a steel baton cracked over his left temple and suddenly the world turned blurry. All he could hear were the Wardens talking amongst themselves and Michelle’s soft, haunting laughter as he felt himself being dragged from across the floor. They had traversed flights of stairs and entire floors were left behind as they began a long descent into the castle dungeon. By the time he had figured that out, everything shortly went black.
Chapter One: Shadowed Blight
Nula 12th of winter
Kazan Castle: Dayashora City, Nagasa Province of Irothis
8th Year and 51st day of incarceration
Michelle swiveled in her mahogany chair, coming face to face with her sister, Queen Selyene. “Is there any particular reason you wish this soul… released from my devout care?” Michelle’s soft lavender eyes searched her twin’s own black, soulless orbs.
“Ah Michelle, truly, it is such a delight having these conversations with you. Spending time with my only sister on a beautiful snowy day no less. I shall miss some of your arrogance when you come to my age. My ever loyal and steadfast Warden. Pray tell, shall you rise and walk with me for a midday conversation?” The Queen of Irothis inclined her head towards the open seal of a window. The cold gust rippled through the office, blowing papers off the Warden’s desk. If she cared she showed little sign. “Come; let us discuss the fate of a few of our undesirables.”
“I am a servant of your will. Your majesty.” Michelle threw her boots off the desk, and rose in her white and lavender heavy cloak, woven around her uniform like a second skin.
“None-the-less, I don’t have to like you going through my convicts to suite your own goals.” She brushed patches of snow of snow from her short and silky raven hair. “My gut tells me that I will have to let the slight go, however, since there’s very little I can do about any of this.”
The Queen shook her head gravely at her. “Ever the gloomy one. You’ve always been like this. Constantly playing the lonely dungeon keeper with your cruel antics.” Selyene’s gaze held bountiful wisdom and uncompromising nobility within itself. A trait that came with her maturity and age that slightly gnawed at her complexion. One look at her sister was eerily similar to looking into her past reflections. Her younger self, the pride and joy of the royal family. Unfortunately none of that had changed since she had taken the throne. Michelle had proven a reluctant heir because of her youth, now the time to take her place in the immediate line of succession had passed her by. “You’re sad because I take what rightly belongs to Irothis? You do realize that you cannot have everything simply by keeping it tucked away?”
“Please, I do not bat an eyelash for such rabble. Let alone care, Selyene.” Michelle couldn’t hide her abrasive snort, cheeks flushing slightly as Selyene cast her stalwart gaze over her quarters. “Time has been busy as of late. You’ll excuse this mess.”
She made her way around the desk to offer a hand for her queen, who took the gesture smiling. She rose to her feet in her black and ruby dress, looking every part of royalty as she did so with grace and practiced fluidity.
“Such work barely makes a difference in the eyes of Irothis for a royal daughter, Michelle, and is beneath you. I do not see the thrill that accompanies fighting alongside the lower class idealists. You could be doing so much more. Even joining a prestigious branch of the military would be a welcome change.” Selyene turned on her heel towards the door, Michelle’s hand in hers. She spoke in hushed tones to her bodyguards on they’re departure. “Do make sure that you keep your weapons out of sight. I would hate to disturb the diligent citizens that work and toil here.”
The two of them headed into the depths of Castle Kazan. The upper levels of the Warden’s dungeon towers were lit by clouded sun and smoldering candlelight spilled from within open offices, creating a flux of colors across the walls of unadorned shoji and fine waxed wood. A pleasant smell of incense lingered, creating a sense of calm in the traditional structure.
Michelle shrugged off her sister’s words, something she had found incredibly easy when her father could no longer say such things to her. “You’re always repeating yourself when it comes to my line of duty for Irothis. Makes me wonder what would happen if I had become the next heir.”
Never underestimate the silver tongues of royalty, Michelle remembered the words of her long deceased father. A piece of advice that would never leave her so long as Selyene remained alive and on a throne. She could always weave her words with honey. Each syllable promised someone’s temptation, another’s dream. All because there lay a glimmer of truth at the bottom of her words. Nothing was out of reach for her to grant, because she was a Queen. Through her just about anything could be made a reality.
Selyene’s next salvo proved a tip of the blade, thrust at her pride and responsibility. “It is not out of your reach, just yet. I’m sure such destinies would forever change your thoughts and cold demeanor. A nation has its ways of seeping into your heart. When the time comes, you will hear of the people’s woes and it will be your divine right and pleasure to bestow upon them measured blessings as well. You will actually care about the future that must be paved for future generations. Preserving not only your own legacy, but that of the royal family and country.”
Michelle flicked through prisoner files, pausing briefly to examine key points. “Well enough about that for now. So what about these prisoners? I’ll need names. Some proper background checks beforehand would be good. I’m sure you don’t want your average cut throat or rapist.””
Once again, Michelle felt her hand being forced by the Queen’s desires. “One of my guards will give you all that I need. Please bring them all and a few others that you feel may fit what I’m searching for.”
“I shall see to matters personally, my Queen. We will have them lined up for your inspection as soon as possible. At your behest of course.” The Warden instantly began thinking about which guards she could round up for the job. Surely it wouldn’t be difficult, but what was the fun in not giving prisoners a hard time?
The Queen pointed through an open window, out into a flat field blanketed with snow. “Bring them into the prison courtyards at nightfall; there I will proceed to inspect them personally. I hope I can count on you to bring them into line?”
A mischievous smirk played on the younger twin’s lips, mentally rubbing her hands together as she thought up a few names. “A usual procedure here, a necessary chore.”
Isolation- Castle Kazan
“Okay, who do we need to pull from isolation then?”
Sooner or later, his fate was going to finally catch up to him. It had been an arduous journey, coming all the way here where the sunlight was pale and constantly strangled by rolling clouds. Controlling his breathing somewhat helped Jasairis’ aching pains. He glanced up with heavy eyes at that gaping hole in the cell where he counted every burst of light signaling another dawn. Each tally added up in his mind was another day he could no longer count on. Down in Isolation, that was really what any one soul could hope to do without rousing suspicion.
“Just the one, Commander. You may have some trouble trying to get him out of his cell, the Overseer says he’s injured.”
His head rolled back down to stare at the floor of his cell, wounded body still slumped against the wall where the Wardens had left him two nights prior. The blood on his back had grown sticky and uncomfortable, the bandages around his torso definitely needed a change. Too sapped of energy for an attempt to climb into his bed, the patched knife wounds in his back and ribcage had begun the slow process of healing none-the-less. At least he was still breathing, whatever good that would do him. The Wardens would come calling tomorrow and see his long awaited execution through. Such was the fate of those bearing bronze seals of Wolf heads on their hands, with a pair of crossed blades underneath. The crest of the royal family, to bear it without their blood was to be in unwelcome company.
Jasairis couldn’t shake the feeling of vertigo nor the misplaced sense of serenity his body felt at being so high above the earth. Isolation was built upon every level that made Kazan’s dungeons. Being locked away in the highest point of the prison left him feeling like he had been left on a mountainside and just out of reach of the peak. In these walls, silence had proved a far more faithful companion than the shadows and strife of the executioner’s row. If only he had been more vigilant, he wouldn’t have taken a stolen knife to his torso and would’ve looked a deal less pathetic than he did now.
“Commander.”
The thunderous echo of gunfire was distant, probably the executions of the less than reputable inmates out in the yards. A pale light rained down from the ceiling and onto the facility, washing the prison in a sterile glow that gave light to Isolation. A body cloaked in midnight robes and bronze scaled armor blocked off his line of sight to his fellows across the hall. He had an assault
rifle slung over his shoulder and his gaze on the code locked doors confining him here.
“Open the door. I have business with one of your captives.” A hiss of vented pressure and moving mechanisms echoed across the cluster small cluster of cells. What had been a moment of reflection just became something tense and uneasy.
The shadows of an unfamiliar figures suddenly eclipsed his light, falling over him like an ominous cloud. “Ah, and here he is, just waiting to tempt fate like all of the others, or is that part of your life repented for, heathen?” Her voice was smooth and harsh, rolling off her tongue with the same cruel judgment that radiated from her soft, lavender eyes. She observed him for his reaction, resorting to falling on a knee for eye contact when she realized he wouldn’t rise to the occasion. “Aren’t you going to talk to me? That’s right; let me see your face… the Overseer was right, you’re a mess right now. You’ve been in here for three nights now, you should be well enough to walk.
Ise. Does he look anything suitable?”
There was another Officer by Michelle’s side, though she appeared somewhat lacking in physical constitution compared to most other guards. Judging by the stack of files carried in a leather bag slung over her shoulder, Jasairis assumed she was an attendant of some sort. She kept glaring at him with her blank expression, sparing an occasional glance back to her papers in hand again and again. She occasionally nodded with her words as she relayed them back to her superior.
“Middling body, quite trimmed, somewhat sloe-eyed and they’re a little far-set. Nose is very blade-like and his features are very sharp, most certainly some Irothan blood in his veins, but his skin is a very pallid shade of mahogany… probably half Irothan and Rynithian or perhaps Eosan? Take at glance at his hair for example...” The attendant risked a couple of steps closer to the cell bars. “His shock of hair could be from either side, it’s very ropy actually. I can’t really place any degree of importance on him at face value, we will have to wait and see what the royal heir says.”
“Thank you, Ise, it is as I thought: there is nothing special about this one. Take him out!” Michelle barked at a trio of Wardens dressed in attire similar to hers. They quickly mobilized into action, approaching the cell with an air of caution mixed with timely practice.
Michelle stood by apathetically, gently prodding Jasairis with a few verbal jabs, no doubt testing invisible limitations that was holding him together, making him tick. “A shame, I find the grey jumpsuit so fitting on you. Truth be told, you will hold interest for only a while. Then we’ll begin the process of breaking you down just a little further, just enough for us to make some use of you.”
The gate of the cell flew open and immediately, two pairs of strong arms wrapped around his own lean ones and hurled him onto the edge of his toes as they dragged him before the Commander Warden.
“Knock him out.”
Before Jasairis could even open his mouth to protest, the edge of a steel baton cracked over his left temple and suddenly the world turned blurry. All he could hear were the Wardens talking amongst themselves and Michelle’s soft, haunting laughter as he felt himself being dragged from across the floor. They had traversed flights of stairs and entire floors were left behind as they began a long descent into the castle dungeon. By the time he had figured that out, everything shortly went black.
-------------