“The way you conduct your court. It’s undignifying. Separating yourself and the queen from them on every opportunity, watching your subjects as they eat. Like you expect any of them to jump you and steal your crown.” His eyes went wide but before I allowed him to speak I made sure to add, “Which is very old school, by the way. I think one of my great- great-great-grandfathers has a painting somewhere with that style of crown. The pointed edges,” a swished a finger to shape it in the air, “They’ve been out of style since the renaissance, at least.”
“You do not deserve our hospitality!” The king rose to his feet and shouted at me across the table, making everyone but the intended recipient shiver. “We offered you clean clothing. We accommodated your grooming and invited you to join our table. All in the hope that we could reach an understanding. Yet you come into my kingdom and spit in my face, mock me in front of my court and expect the right to converse? Have you no gratitude?” His echo expelled the words seconds after the male had done it, forcing the great room to pulsate with his anger and resonate it across all of his subject’s ears.
“You are no ruler, and this is no kingdom. You are but a remnant of your god’s ambition, sentenced to a life of imprisonment. And instead of words leading towards finding peace, you had been training armies to steal other territories since your very beginnings. And now you think I can be bought with a bath and some clean clothes? I am not one of you,Drahden,” I knowingly released his name without a title, “I do not settle for nothingness.”
It was the wrong thing to say. As soon as the final word left my mouth, a burst of pain hit me straight in the chest, making me flip through the air and fall across the table below, rolling in the remnants of their half-eaten food.
My body was then yanked upwards and thrust into the black wall, scraping my face along the fall. I had managed to irritate him in such a way that the king resorted to using their god’s power and plastered me against the wall, over and over until I felt fractions of my bones turn into shards. Until my blood became so hot, it started boiling in my veins, and I stood powerless, trapped in a body that no longer felt my own.
By the time the king was satisfied with the inflicted damage, I remained a pile of wounds and twisted limbs, unable to rise from the floor, feel my legs, or even speak. Breathing seemed the only task my lungs could focus on.
“You are right, prince,” the king stepped towards me — or I guessed he did by the approaching sound of his voice — “You do not settle. Your energy is still pure and death would be a too easy task for such strength in spirit.”
He lifted me by the hair and dragged my bloody face close to his own, to make sure the venom he prepared to expel found its mark.
“Tell me, prince, have you ever heard of achangeling?” The king analysed my features with sheer curiosity, scanning every micro-expression my injured face could possibly make.
But I gave him none, partly because I did not know what he threatened me with, and partly because I could not feel nor control any of the muscles across my body. The blows Drahden had inflicted on my already injured form made me lose the last thread of control I possessed over my spirit. Pain flowed freely around me, signalling body parts that I had thought lost during the fall.
I could not speak or move, the only thing keeping me afloat was the king’s will, who, either understanding that I could not physically utter any words or lost the grip on his patience, ended up answering his own question.
“Changelings are a new type of fireling, ones that have been created during my reign,” he echoed proudly, making his voice flutter across the room while the rest of the attendees remained as silent as my future grave. “They become a fireling and fight for our cause, even though they were not born in our kingdom. They answer to me,” he said proudly.
I did not understand what he tried to tell me, nor could I wrap my mind around it. The only dominating presence was pulsating pain and agonising ache, which kept me from thinking clearly. From thinking at all.
“Do you know where we recruit them from, prince?” Tired of me ignoring his questions, Drahden pulled my hair in such a way to make a negation out of the forced movements of my neck.
“No?” he played his part. “From the battlefield. You see, prince, we find the ones like yourself. Young, strong and stern, loyal to the core. And we turn them. We take that beautiful heart of theirs and putrefy it until they become nothing more than animals. Instinctual beings.”
“The core fighters…” I struggled to utter the words, although they probably resounded half a whisper and half his own understanding of muttered sounds.
“Is that what you call them?” Drahden asked with interest.
We never knew how it happened until now, no one guessed why the best warriors of the firelings resembled other species so much. They fought the hardest, the strongest, clashed till their last breath, with no desire to escape or to have their lives spared.
The front line of each fireling attack, created by converted warriors of other races, once fighting for something they believed in. Now turned into nothing but flesh shields. To spare more of their own folk, to give them a better chance at survival.
“Anyhow,” the king continued since I proved incapable of handling my side of the conversation, “let me tell you how it’s done because it is a whole spectacle.” Drahden said excitedly. “Our great explorer of the mind, Commander Serpium along with a team of apothecaries developed a potion that stimulates brain activity according to a specific trigger. It is all very fascinating.”
“I don’t care…” I forced my lips to pronounce the words in spite of the pain and traces of blood that started flowing again from my mouth.
“Oh, but you will. You need to know what to expect. See, at first, your anger dissipates. That tiny worm which enables you to have a polite conversation when invited to dine with a king? Gone!” He used a vanishing gesture with one hand, while the other remained plucked inside my hair, pulling my skull upwards.
“Then, part of your memory will fade. Or be replaced and shifted in perspective. Am I correct, Marreth?” He turned towards the commander, who had stepped closer to us at the beginning of the conversation, resting his left hand on the hilt of a sword, ready to defend his ruler.
“Marreth has been through this as well, so he knows the works better than I do,” the king clarified for my benefit.
“That is correct, my King,” the commander’s voice approved. “Afterwards the loyalty fades, the sense of belonging to a specific kingdom. One becomes an empty shell, ready to be filled as my king desires.” His eyes turned to me, reminding me of his words in the bathing chamber. Telling me that this is what he wished to prevent.
“And then, I will use the prince as I please, and he will become a loyal subject of the Fire Kingdom,” Drahden turned to his court to announce the decision he just seemed to make. “Unless of course, young Prince Ansgar here decides to tell us what we have been wanting to know since the moment he arrivedand enjoyed our notorious hospitality.”
I waved my head, neck muscles suddenly aware that they had to fulfil their part. I would not do it. I would not tell them.
But Drahden made it crystal clear, he did not plan to end this without one more chance. He wanted to give me the option to either save myself and doom my kingdom or surrender my body, and everything I was along with it.
“Tell us where the tear is hidden!” Drahden demanded.
The same question they had asked me, every hour of every day since my arrival.They wanted the tear of the goddess Catalina, our creator. They wanted to steal it and claim its power, dooming our kingdom along with it.I would rather give up my life a thousand times over, in a thousand different torturing ways than betray my people.
