Just before they left, as they were already preparing their horses, the informant appeared before the herbalist to bid him farewell.
—"This is a goodbye, but not forever, for I am sure our paths will cross again, herbalist. Besides, my shop is always open for any interesting information you might bring from your travels,"— he said.
—"Of course, we will meet again, do not doubt it for a moment,"— Sylvan replied with a smile.
After this, the trio headed toward the castle as the morning sun shone upon them, each lost in their own thoughts and worries. The long shadows they cast seemed like stretched echoes of their doubts, but the steady trot of the horses was a promise of action, a decisive step toward a destiny they were beginning to shape with their own hands.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
From the road, the distant sounds of the crowd on the main avenue could be heard as they went about their morning activities. But for Sylvan, the entire world felt confused at this moment. Ever since yesterday's nightmare, he couldn't get that scene out of his head.
—"Hey, are you all right?"— Sariel asked with concern.
—"Huh? Oh, yes, I'm fine,"— Aleus replied.
—"Are you sure? You look tired,"— she pressed.
—"Yes, it's just that I didn't sleep very well,"— he admitted with a weary smile.
The images from that nightmare haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that ocean of blood and the figure of his teacher, accusing him with her gaze for her death. He felt the weight of guilt lodged in his stomach—a cold knot that wouldn't loosen. He could still hear his teacher's voice, sharp and clear, whispering in his ear. Hyacinth… Hyacinth… HYACINTH!
Sylvan jolted, startled by the shout.
—"You really haven't slept much. When we reach the castle, you can rest, but you'll have to hold out until we get there,"— Aleus reminded him calmly.
After this, silence consumed the group. The healer looked at the buildings with curiosity behind his tired gaze, searching for anything that would distract him from his thoughts.
Sylvan observed his surroundings, where beggars and many malnourished children could be seen. Sylvan spotted a girl sitting on her mother's lap. She had large, dull eyes and was holding a piece of hard bread that she barely nibbled.
Not far away were elderly people in conditions no better than the young. They were telling fantastical stories to the children, trying to distract themselves from their harsh reality.
Seated at a table were some guards playing cards. Unconcerned with their surroundings, they laughed and chatted while placing bets in the center of the wooden table, where a pile of coins had already formed.
The young man's heart sank at the sight of such a situation. His eyes sought the prince's, who was watching everything happening in his kingdom with great sorrow and disgust.
—"It's worse than when we left,"— Sariel commented to Aleus.
—"What are all these people doing here, Your Highness?"— Sylvan questioned.
—"They are citizens from nearby villages trying to escape the plague. It hasn't reached here yet, but at the rate it's spreading, I fear it won't be long,"— he sighed. —"The citizens are suffering, and those in power are doing nothing. Sometimes I'm ashamed to call myself the prince of this deplorable kingdom that can't even properly treat citizens seeking help."—
Helplessness was visible on his face. He seemed to blame himself for what had happened, slowly corroding under the feeling of being unable to do anything for the people suffering before his eyes.
—"You and the princess are doing everything possible to give people shelter and food. Don't be so hard on yourself,"— Aleus tried to lift the young man's spirits, but he didn't seem to believe his friend's words at all.
The prince closed his eyes and sighed with a weary expression. —"I wish I could believe that completely."—
Sariel opened his eyes again and gently spurred his horse. The animal responded with a slightly faster trot, as if it also wanted to leave that misery-laden avenue behind as soon as possible. Aleus and Sylvan followed in silence.
The road began to ascend slightly, moving away from the lower neighborhoods. The poorly maintained wooden and stone houses gave way to more solid buildings, with tall facades and iron balconies. Yet, the contrast couldn't erase what they had seen; it remained like a persistent stain in the minds of the three.
As he looked ahead, Sylvan's eyes widened in amazement at the structure before him. In the distance, the castle began to rise above the city.
At that moment, a voice was heard as the prince smiled and presented, —"And before you stands the Castle of Drakenhöf, the most majestic and secure fortress in the kingdom and the home of the royal family for over a thousand years."—
Its white stone walls reflected the morning sunlight, imposing themselves as a severe and distant presence. The towers rose like spears thrust into the sky, and the royal banners waved lazily, oblivious to the suffering accumulating at their feet.
Sylvan looked up and held his breath. He had never been so close to the castle. It seemed beautiful to him... and at the same time intimidating, as if that fortress were not just a building, but a reminder of power and all the things about the world he did not understand.
Following the road, they came upon a bridge leading directly to the castle's main gate. As they approached, two guards on either side of the door stopped them.
—"Halt!"— ordered one of the guards, stepping forward and lowering his spear to block the way. —"Identify yourselves and state your reason for being at the castle."—
Sariel sighed softly and, without a word, raised his hand to pull back his hood. The sunlight fell on his face, revealing the fine features and weary gaze of the heir to the throne.
The younger guard frowned, scrutinizing him carefully. —"And you suppose that...?"— he began, confused. —"Don't look at me like that. If you don't have authorization..."—
CLACK!
The second guard gave him a sharp blow to the back of his helmet, hard enough to make him stagger. —"You fool!"— he hissed through his teeth. —"That's Prince Sariel!"—
The young guard clasped a hand to his neck, instantly paling. His eyes widened, and he immediately bowed his head. —"M-my deepest apologies, Your Highness! It's my first day, I didn't know…"—
—"It's all right,"— Sariel intervened, his voice calm though weary. —"There's no need for punishment for doing your duty."—
The veteran guard straightened his posture and stepped out of the way, giving a deep bow. —"You may pass. The castle welcomes you."—
The spears were raised, and the way was clear. Aleus went first, followed by Sylvan, who couldn't help but cast one last glance at the rookie guard, still pale from the fright.
Behind the gates was a large plaza with a fountain in the center, and groups of patrolling guards could be seen.
Not far from the gate stood a figure who seemed to have been waiting, for as soon as he saw them, he began walking in their direction.
He was a tall, masked man wearing jester's garments in colors ranging from gold to a deep sea-blue. His mask depicted a smile with closed eyes and horns that protruded like spikes towards his hat, from which locks of black hair, reaching his shoulders, spilled out.
The bells on his elongated hat jingled with each step, falling silent when he reached the prince and knelt before him.
—"Greetings to His Royal Highness, the Prince. The Princess has sent me as her representative, entrusting me to guide you to her location."—
—"Of course, I had anticipated your presence, for wherever the princess is, there you are."—
The jester tilted his head, making the bells jingle once more. His expression was hidden by the mask, but Sylvan had a feeling he was smiling.
The young man began to walk, leading the way.
He crossed the decorated palace corridors with cheerful little hops, to which the prince seemed accustomed, as his expression showed no surprise.
The jester stopped at a door, opening it and letting us pass into a large, ornate office.
—"Your Highness, I have brought him, just as you requested,"— announced the jester, bowing.
A woman with long jet-black hair and silver bangs sat in the chair of the grand office.
She had sharp green eyes that shone like two emeralds in the midday light filtering through the window. Her skin, the color of refined porcelain, was dotted with two freckles, one beneath each eye. She wore an elegant white dress with black adornments, which covered her heels.
—"Thank you, Oriel."—
—"It has been some time, Lerofey."—
—"You are right… Brother."—