Chapitre 7: chaos in Faber Meadows
Faber Meadows is located on the banks of the sparkling River Akane. Lush in population and sparse in plantation the small town was famous for its smithing business in the Royal Capital of EDA. Weapons for the core Royal Households were modelled, created and sold by the skilled people of Faber Meadows.
From squandering children to responsible adults, everyone could brandish a weapon and melt it to create another. The people had less to eat and observe but more to drink and fight with.
Unfortunately, their humble peace was disrupted when fire laden arrows had rained down on their wood constructed houses at midnight. Serenity was shattered by wailing babies choking on smoke and gas as the galloping of wild horses became louder and clearer by the second.
The Nightmongers were here for them.
.
.
.
The Nightmongers, Agnes' first and only fear. They were at the Faber Meadows to raid.
Humerah's words hammer Agnes' heart into sinking down to her gut. Her hands grow cold in the process. Cold sweat overtaking her exposed skin. Her pale skin turns paler by the second as her fingers involuntarily tear through the important papers in her hand, just so she could clench them.
Was it her chance at answers? Isn't it too soon?
"W-We, uh, we need to go..." Agnes breaths out, pupils dilated in exasperation. She needs to be at Faber Meadows! She needs to witness the destruction they had caused again. What did they do this time? What were they after? Would it be as worse as she had gotten?
Belladonna's face remains cold and stoic when she replies, "I apologize to dare say this but, no, Your Highness, you cannot leave the Gale Castle unprotected and visit the sight of raid."
Agnes is uncaring of Belladonna's opinions as she jumps down her bed and hastily shoves her feet in slippers. Humerah, who is standing beside Belladonna, notices the look of panic on the Princess' risen eyebrows, flaring nostrils, clenched jaw, and misunderstands it as concern for the safety of the Crown Prince.
Her youthful heart flutters on the thought of her Princess being such a devoted wife. She would willingly work overtime or enroll in a school if it would be worth enough to bring back her Princess' peaceful smile. Resultantly, she gasps out, "I will have a carriage prepared for you, Your Highness!"
"You are an absolute blessing, Humerah, but I think a carriage would be too obvious and distracting for the townsfolk. What do you reckon, we ride a horse instead?" Agnes proposes, standing up and pocketing a few pouches of peanuts.
"Oh- sure, Your Highness, if you know how to ride then I—"
"The Princess cannot ride a horse," Comes the cold baritones of Belladonna cutting through Humerah's sentence.
Agnes pulls her lips in a straight line, torn between wanting to baselessly defend herself and protect her pride but also not waste the already running time on their hands.
"Can you?" The princess blinks at Humerah's sheepish form, glance quizzical. The brunette scrunches her nose in reply and shakes her head apologetically. Agnes gives her a consoling smile and sucks in a breath.
Here goes nothing.
"Can you?" Agnes turns to Belladonna instead. The stone faced ravenette nods twice in agreement.
Agnes smiles. "Well then, why hold the horses when we have a party to catch up with!? Rush out!" She claps in her maid's faces whilst striding towards her doors.
Only Humerah follows Agnes on her tip-toes.
"Please Belladonna, let us do this consensually, please, or do you want me to order you around?" Agnes all but begs with her words, big silver eyes drooping with reason.
"May I ask a question first?" Belladonna questions, falling into a polite curtsy.
"Go ahead."
"Are you worried because of the Crown Prince, Zephyrus Baldric Elstan, Wind of Empyrean Dawn Ark?"
Huh?
Why would she be concerned over someone's address?
For three long seconds Agnes could not comprehend for the life of her as to why she was expected to rush into a possible death trap for that good for nothing, godforsaken, rat-trash of a Prince.
And then it strikes like lightning on a stormy evening.
They were betrotheds-to-be. Fiancées.
Logical enough.
"Well yes, of course, I am very genuinely concerned about the Crown Prince as well as the people of Faber Meadows," Agnes replies diplomatically, her shoulders squaring and back straightening upon instinct. Pretense came easy with her.
Belladonna nods, probably satisfied with whatever she wanted to hear and stands up straight, "I will prepare the horse," She announces before pushing open the doors and walking out.
Agnes smiles politely, wanting to celebrate her small victory but the impending dread of witnessing a Nightmonger disaster had paralysed most of her thinking capacity.
It had been so long since she had heard that word. Nightmongers. One of the few key members in the collective ruination of Agnes' life.
"Your Highness, if you are to meet the Crown Prince, then your outfit—" Humerah begins but is rudely interrupted by a hand in her face.
Somewhere distant, horses neigh.
"Do you hear that? They're ready. Let's go!"
The Princess holds her handmaiden's small hand as they rush down the tiled staircase and all but race to the Royal foyer where Belladonna is standing, dressed in proper riding attire.
Well that was quick.
"We are ready to depart, Your Highness."
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When Zephyr and his men reached Faber Meadows, it was already burning. Ashes greeted his party and smoke made the presence of destruction known. Brick houses stood hollow and eerily still as people clammered around what was once theirs and cried over what was now gone. River Akane was lit with the reflection of burning debris from the broken houses. It rippled to life as men jumped into it, trying to escape burning to death by choosing hypothermia instead.
A murmur of remorse and terror was prevalent on every lip of the disaster-stricken place. Gloom loomed over the face of the land, making Zephyr feel miserable for his people.
He gulps, hands clutching tighter on the reins of his horse. Greatness was so far from his reach right now.
"The Crown Prince has arrived with provisions! Distribute the blankets!" Clover announces, getting off his high horse and working with the Gale Castle Guards to provide relief to those poor tormented souls.
Most of the people who were busy consoling their loved ones did not notice or greeted the Royal help party. Neither Zephyr or his men minded it though as he stood in the darkness, his men rushed to light and distributed food, water and blankets to the needy.
One of the men run up to Zephyr's side and bows in greeting after receiving a blanket and a box of food and medicine.
"Rise. Are you the one who sent the messanger to our household?" Zephyr inquiers, mocha eyes staring into the distance where some father was singing to his child.
The man nods vigorously, voice scratchy and hoarse, "Yes, Your kind Highness, it was me, Ralph."
"Have there been any casualties?"
"None as of now, Your Highness, but our chief blacksmith and his family are missing!" The man bursts into dragged sniffles, almost choking on his dry throat.
"Dispatch a search party for Chief Ruben and his family!" Zephyr shouts out orders, loud enough for Clover to hear around the bank of the river. The blonde nods affirmative and runs further into the distance, shouting something incomprehensible to Zephyr. "Don't worry, we will bring him back safe," Zephyr gently affirms to the man withering beside the Prince's horse.
Zephyr pulls off his royal blue cloak and rests it on Ralph's shoulders, over the blanket.
"T-there were s-so m-many of them, y-your Hig-ghness, so-o many! A-An army! They at-t-tacked! Burnt all our r-r-rations d-down! Went inside e-every house and s-seized all our weapons!!" Ralph stutters over his information, pressing the wooden boxes tighter against his chest as if to keep a grasp on reality.
To not lose himself in the nightmare again.
Zephyr frowns, staring at the weaponry shed across River Akane. The warehouse looked unscathed from a distance.
The villager follows Zephyr's line of sight and drags a breath before speaking, "T-They were not here for s-stealing arms or the Royal c-cargo, Your Highness."
Zephyr raises a curious eyebrow at Ralph's withering form.
"They were h-here for the King's Sceptre, I r-reckon. It was sent here the d-day before y-yesterday. The King wanted it p-polished and re-e-decorated for the Royal E-engagement as soon as possible. B-but Chief Ruben has been v-very s-sick lately so H-H-His Majesty sent the Sceptre along with some t-trustworthy people," Ralph whispers hoarsely.
"And someone betrayed them all," Zephyr mumbles bitterly, teeth clenching against each other. "Who else did you send a messenger to?" The Prince asks stiffly.
"The Elstan Household of the King and The Goldstien Household of the Empress," The man replies in a mumble.
Zephyr's hands involuntarily clench against the reins of his horse, again, nails almost digging in his palms. 'That Piaget bastard would be here any moment now...' He thinks bitterly.
"Help! Help! I cannot get my mother out! Help, please!" A child cries in distance, disrupting Zephyr's bitter line of thought.
The Prince instantly jumps down from his horse and runs towards the voice, along with his guards and Ralph in tow.
"What is it?! Where are you!?" Zephyr shouts questions into the distance, jumping over brunt wood and spoilt food.
"Right here, your Highness! Help me, please!" The child begs, flailing both his arms in a wave as his knees buckle to the unsightly ground and he breaks into pathetic sobs.
Zephyr turns round the corner to see a woman pressed under a huge hardwood roof batten. Lying on the ground, her neck was twisted on her left; one of her hands was buried under a boulder, lifeless, and the other was enveloped around the batten. Pale and cold, it lay motionless but for one finger that slowly dug into the wood. Scratching the batten that was pressing her stomach down.
Her blue eyes were hollow, unblinking, red face numbed with pain and swollen with tear stains. All she did was desperately scratch on the wood with one fingernail, as she bled, unblinking and unmoving.
This was what people of his nation were reduced to.
Zephyr sucks in a harsh breath before phasing into work mode. "Two men on the head, four equidistant on the middle and two on the tail. One of you get the boulder and I shall bring her out, do you follow me?" He explains through a shout.
"SIR YES SIR!" his men shout back, quickly marching to take their positions around the scene of incident. Two on either side of the batten's head, two on its end and three oddly divided in the middle.
To his utter disappointment, Zephyr realizes that there are only seven men. They were one man less. The weight distribution would be risky and unreliable in that scenario. Nevertheless, he shouts, "On the count of three!"
Ralph pulls the child away from the scene of distress and cages his face with his arms and pressing it in his chest, patting his head and back in a soothing manner.
"One! Two! Three! LIFT!"
The Royal guards work in good synchronization, lifting the batten together. "SHIFT AND LET THE BATTEN FALL SIDEWARDS!" he announces again before making a beeline under the batten to the woman.
"Madam, please, are you okay? Can you hear me?" Zephyr whispers, carefully sliding a hand underneath her neck and supporting her head up. The woman's chapped lips make soft movements but she remains still other than that. Her breaths are haggard and dragged.
Zephyr slides another hand underneath her calves and picks her up. Fresh tears breath into light onto her barren face. Zephyr gulps, retaining his calm.
"It's okay, you will be alright. Stay calm, stay still, we are saving you. Your child is waiting safely on the outside. You are doing good, keep calm, don't sleep," Zephyr whispers a chain of hasty phrases in her ear, taking slow steps to bring her out of the batten's range without rupturing her stomach nerves in the process.
But the disproportionate division of men strikes.
One of the middle men falter under the weight of the batten, causing a slight jerk in the position of all involved. The batten plunges hard onto Zephyr's back and a rusty nail pierces his right shoulder.
The Prince coughs out in pain, stance remaining unbroken in fear of hurting the woman in his arms. Stay sturdy, stay still.
"ZEPHYR!"
He hears a frantic shout. Rush of awkward footsteps. It was Clover. The small blonde thrusts himself in position and raises the batten with all his might.
The nail forcefully abandons Zephyr's shoulderblade and he gasps, pressing his teeth down over his tongue in case it betrayed any emotion. His pain was not greater than his people's. The crown prince slowly makes his way out in the open.
"Summon the healers!" Clover shouts, "Throw the batten at three!"
"Ralph, get me a blanket from my horse," Zephyr orders, voice coming out hoarse and restrained from pain.
"Yes, your Highness!" The man runs ahead and brings back a blanket. Zephyr lets the woman rest on the clean surface and stands up straight. His shoulder weighs his posture down to a slight slump.
"T-Thank you! Your Highness! Thank you s-so much! I am so grateful! So much! Long Live the Crown Prince!" The child falls onto Zephyr's feet and sobs passionately, doubling over.
The Prince smiles at him before bending down and ruffling his hair, "It is my duty to protect my people, little boy, now off you go, be with your mother. She needs you."
The boy nods his small head vigorously and runs to his mother's side.
"Bring men from neighbouring villages and towns. Start reconstructing Faber Meadows! I am relocating the people to—"
"You know you don't hold the power to order that, right?" Cuts in a cold and calm voice. It is bland, deviod of most emotions but authority. Zephyr's spine tingles with chills of annoyance.
River Akane might as well freeze over in his presence.
Up on his mighty horse arrives Crown Prince, Piaget Goldstein, the biggest bane in all of Zephyr's existence, the sole reason of him wanting to hug the grim reaper early.
Through his piercing green gaze, he looks down at Zephyr with a cold smirk. His gold embellished robes shine brighter against the fire lit background, almost excuding a divine aura from him.
"You're late," Zephyr points out coldly, mocha eyes glaring back in those beauty green ones.
"I was being efficient," Piaget shrugs his bejewelled shoulders, thin lips pulling a subtle smile as he curls a long finger in his blonde hair.
"Relocation is what the people need. The Council will have to agree," Zephyr explains bitterly as Clover rushes up to him, inspecting his bleeding shoulder.
"Let me," Piaget began with pressing a dainty hand on his breastplate, "the Crown Prince with power, stick to worrying about the Empire. Okay?" He smiles with a scrunch of his sharp nose, "You can shoo away to your isolated castle and stick with your new wife-to-be," Piaget drawls, jumping off his majestic Arabian white horse with swift elegance and stands in front of Zephyr. Holding eye contact with the slouched prince.
His tall frame demanded respect as people bowed on instinct.
Zephyr clenches his jaw, memories of the wretched afternoon rushing through his head. That darned ill-fated woman. Wow. News travells fast. Or was he the last person to know of his own engagement?
"Silence suits you," Piaget mocks, holding out his hand to his guards as they put a scroll in his palm. Piaget unfolds the scrolls in Zephyr's face and reads out loud.
"By order of our bountiful Empress, all people of Faber Meadows have been relocated to the Royal Capital until the reconstruction of your village. You shall be provided with new homes, stocked with food and a welfare fund of 5000 gold coins for all the losses you have incurred on behalf of the King's negligence. Count your family members and sign up for the homes and welfare fund!" Piaget announces.
And in the blink of an eye people are lining up in front of his horse, singing praises for the newly arrived prince, as three men with books and quills stood to take notes.
Zephyr remained stunned still.
Piaget was really being efficient.
"Your Highness, you need to get your shoulder checked by the healer," Clover insists with mumbles in his best friend's ear, audibly concerned for him. His eyes exchanged glances between Piaget's smug form, oozing pride, and Zephyr's slouched form, oozing rage.
But suddenly, in that brief moment of peace, rushes a small woman, shrieking on top of her lungs, "YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS! PRINCESS AGNES HAS BEEN TAKEN HOSTAGE BY THE NIGHTMONGERS!!"
And chaos ensues.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Rinne_Aurora
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