Freebie: Avalon - The Fallen King: Chapter 6

Chapter Six -

Parthos ran all over the palace, sweating through his three-piece piece suit. He could feel it the worst along his lower back and drenching both of his armpits. He swiped a hand across his forehead, appalled when he saw how much it dampened his sleeve. He pushed aside his disgust at all the sweat and focused instead on making it back to the Grand Chamber. The halls were mostly empty and a lot of the staff had been told to go home for the day. No one was sure why but with all the Royal Guardians stomping around, it definitely couldn’t be good. Parthos envied the ones able to leave. He didn’t want to be in the palace either. But he had a duty to fulfill as Senior Aide and he took great pride in his position. Being able to work so closely with the HIgh Royals had been a dream come true at the time. Now it seemed like that dream wanted to turn into a horrible nightmare.

“Parthos? What’s going on?”

He blew right past the person asking him that question, so fast he had no idea who it had been. Although the place was eerily empty, he still came across the occasional person every so often and each time he did, they asked him what was happening. He ignored them. The information he stumbled on was too important to allow himself to be distracted.

It can’t be true though, right? he asked himself, trying to distract his mind from the way the sweat kept pouring out of his skin and the way his lungs kept heaving as if they weren’t getting enough air pulled in. Can’t be. How would that even be possible?

But the news he’d found out seemed reliable no matter how implausible it might be. It had spread through the kingdom and, according to everyone he talked to, the story had come from multiple sources that had been there and firsthand witnesses to the event. And it wasn’t just one person either. It had been so many that it seemed highly unlikely they were attempting some sort of elaborate prank. Not only that but scrystones all over the palace and outside it kept chiming with the same story, including his own. That story was then repeated by the staff in whispered conversations until Parthos ended up dismissing everyone for the day.

Finally, he was back outside the Grand Chamber. He smoothed his suit as best he could, trying hard to ignore all the sweat-dampened parts. He touched up his hair again into something resembling, at least for the most part, a passable sort of neatness. Then he knocked on the door. It was tall, extremely thick, and made from a type of hardwood tree that had gone extinct about two hundred years after the Resurgence. Despite knowing better, Parthos put his ear up to it, hoping he could hear something going on inside. It was frustratingly silent, though.

All of a sudden, the door opened of its own accord and Parthos stumbled forward, his balance shifting awkwardly now that he didn’t have the door to support his weight. He managed to right himself before he fell to the ground. He stood ramrod straight, his eyes focused on a point just above the High Royals’ heads. He didn’t move a muscle and waited patiently for them to address him and bid him come forward.

“Pleasantries are not required at the moment, Parthos,” Asari mentioned. “I fear whatever news you bring is important, correct?’

“Yes, Your Highness,” Parthos replied immediately, thankful that he managed to get his breathing back under control and his lungs weren’t heaving rapidly anymore.

“Then just come here,” Winston snapped. “Save us this unnecessary, trivial bullshit. Out with it.”

“Of course,” he said, walking hurriedly to get closer to the thrones. “I’ve heard urgent news, Your Highnesses. News of where Jeks has gone.”

That caught the four High Royals’ attention. Parthos gulped nervously, suddenly very aware of the three kings and queen looking down at him.

“Is the source credible?” Edrick asked. His graying, wiry hair seemed to be even wilder since the last time Parthos saw him.

“Let him explain first,” Winston said, shooting Edrick an impatient look. He turned back to Parthos. “Okay, Parthos. What happened to Jeks? Where is he?”

“According to numerous sources and stories being played on nearly everyone’s scrystones, he has shown up at a school in Old Columbus called Weyd Academy.” The nerves worsened and he could suddenly feel his heartbeat all the way up in his throat. He swallowed again, trying to work past it. “He interrupted a Proelia match and…and…uh…”

This was the part he really didn’t want to say but the High Royals were clearly getting restless. “He bowed…to a uh…academy senior there. His name is Theo Vance.”

“Bowed?” Asari asked, her eyes widening with surprise. “To whom again?”

Parthos took out his scrystone, a flat piece of rock smaller than a book with a polished side so shiny, it was practically a mirror. He tapped it with his index finger, letting the device’s magic wake up. The polished surface suddenly blinked to life and he turned it so the royals could see it. News stories showing Jeks kept popping up, each one being pushed up and out of view by an even newer story. They kept showing the same image, though. It was Jeks and he was indeed bowing in front of a student no one could really make out.

“This is impossible,” Harlan whispered, mostly to himself. “If Jeks declared himself for the boy, then he has just marked him heir to Micah’s throne.”

“Yes,” Edrick said, fingers steepled below his chin again. “That means the boy is Micah’s biological son. He has to be. But that is not possible because Alice is his only child. How could he possibly have had a son and never told anyone?”

“Does it say who the mother is?” Winston asked. “Did anyone manage to capture an image of her?”

“One moment, Your Highness,” Parthos said. He swiped his finger across the scrystone, scrolling through more and more of the stories. Eventually he found one with a more compelling photo of the boy. He was among a crowd but with him were two people that were clearly his parents and maybe a girlfriend as well. He stepped closer to the raised dais and showed them the image.

As soon as they saw the boy and his parents, the royals all looked shocked. Asari even gasped a little and she placed one of her hands over her heart.

“Those two are supposed to be dead,” Winston scowled. “Get Prime Guardian Oxnar in here at once.”

Parthos nodded, bowed, and then hastened to do as he was told. He thought about contacting the Prime Guardian via scrystone but as far as he knew, she didn’t have one. She found them a waste of time and felt they were only a distraction. She had a small one, meant only for communication, but Parthos didn’t have her as a contact so he couldn't reach her that way. It was a pity, he thought as he raced back through the palace’s halls. It would have spared him more running and sweating.

He ended up finding her near the front entrance, working with other Royal Guardians to secure the palace and make sure all points of entry were covered. By the time Parthos got to her, his face was red and sweat was pouring down his forehead into his eyes and beard. For the moment, however, he had to force his discomfort, and the embarrassment it caused, away.

“Prime Guardian,” Parthos said through ragged breaths. “The High Royals are requesting your presence in the Grand Chamber. Please come with me. It is of a sensitive, yet urgent nature.”

Oxnar looked at him, took in his state, and nodded. The two made their way back through the palace at a rushed walking pace so Parthos could get his breath back and try to restore some of the decorum he’d lost while running like a madman through the building. Once they got to the tall doors, Oxnar opened them, not bothering to knock. She walked across the expansive, and lavishly decorated room, to the dais. Her body moved with easy grace and she kept her military composure as she did. Her eyes never strayed from the High Royals and her jaw was set into a firm line.

“Your Highnesses,” she said, bowing. After she was done, she swept her gaze across each king and queen. “What is it you require of me? I am currently in the middle of securing the palace.”

“Your Guardians are well-equipped to handle that duty in your absence,” Winston told her. He nodded toward Parthos. “Show her the last image.”

Parthos took out his scrystone again and swiped until he got to the same image that had caused the royals so much shock. As soon as the Prime Guardian saw it, her face changed. The iron-like resolve she had seemed to falter for just a moment. Parthos saw a tiny flicker of doubt hit her.

“I suggest you speak now,” Harlan said, his voice stern. “You clearly know something Amie. Just tell us.”

“I cannot,” she said. “The First King, he…he told me never to say. He forced me into a pledge.”

She raised her left arm and bared her lightly bronzed skin. There, faint but still visible, was a writ made of tiny, almost imperceptible runes that wound around her entire forearm. The others were taken aback by this. A writ was a powerful, magical promise that caused enormous problems for anyone that broke it.

“You are free from your obligation,” Asari told her. “With Micah’s death, his writ has no more power.”

“And you are sure of that?” she asked, concerned despite all her enormous tactical skills and fighting prowess. “A broken writ with the First King could prove dangerous to my health.”

“I am certain,” Asari went on. She gestured to the writ scrawled into the Prime Guardian’s skin. “It is barely there now. Trust me.”

“It could help us understand what the hell is going on,” Edrick told her.

“Understood, Your Highnesses,” she replied. Then she took a deep breath. “I was not told everything by the First King but when I first took on my role of Prime Guardian, he made me bound by the writ not to tell anyone the truth. That the previous Prime Guardian was not actually dead. Nor was his second at the time, his wife. They had gone into hiding. He did not share what they were running from though.”

“So that was them then. I wasn’t sure. Their appearances have clearly been altered. Most likely through morphism I’d wager,” Asari said. She gestured for Parthos to show her the image again. It depicted a young boy, an equally young girl, and two older people, a man and a woman. The man was muscular, tall and had short-cropped black hair. His eyes were a vibrant shade of light green, almost the same color as fresh grass. Next to him was a woman with long, flowing hair as white as snow, pale skin and black eyes. In the image, they were pushing through a crowd but they both looked at the boy with a great deal of concern and worry etched into the lines of their faces.

“Yes, Your HIghness,” Oxnar confirmed. “The people in this image are former Prime Guardian Warrick Arkin and his second-in-command, Xerya Arkin.”