Chapter 3.

A Chapter by Brutis140

Darias finds Tirtiri is corrupt and tries to find Arcbolt.

     Darkness enveloped the scenery. His eyes giving him the sight he needed to proceed through the city. He could feel the thirst building in him. It was as if his soul was being buried alive inside him and the corruption cried out for him to take a life. His thoughts could not be torn away from wondering how grand it would be to swallow the essence of the living. His eyes purple and bloodshot as he scanned the cityscape before him.

     The streets were dark. Not many were brave enough to travel at this hour. Few guards stood on lookout. This puzzled him, on his previous visits to Tirtiri the guards patrolled in abundance. He paid no more attention to the guards as he ducked in and out of the shadows in search of his prey. He thought to himself, this was Tirtiri the Capital of the world he was sure to find prey easy enough.
     "You there, raise your hands slowly and step back into this alleyway." Darius smirked, he had found his prey. He only wished they hadn't made it so easy. He spoke as he turned and move towards the alley.
     "You caught me off guard for a second gentlemen, is there a problem?" Darius asked mockingly, now in the shadows of the alley with the men.
     "There will be a problem if you don't do as we say." Darius' vision cleared in the darkness. He scanned the alley. Five of them, just your average Tirtirian thug. He knew they were unprepared for what he was about to unleash on them but he liked playing games with murderers.
     "Please don't hurt me!" He begged them. Giving the proper emphasis where it was needed. The thug leader moved towards him drawing a knife.
     "We promise we won't." The thug laughed before plunging the blade into Darius' stomach. he winced, he could still feel pain but it was worth playing the thug's game. It would heal almost instantly anyways.
     "I can bet that you were expecting the knife to kill me." Darius mocked the thug as it tried to get away.
     "What are you?" The thug wrestled against his tremendous vampiric strength.
     "What I am won't matter in a few moments." Darius grabbed the thug's throat and crushed his spine.
     "Get him!" Shouted another thug. Their attacks came from all directions. The four experienced thugs were still no match for him. Dodging in and out of their blades he began disarming them as they failed to strike. Darius was pleased, he hadn't even needed to use his magic yet. One by one the four of them fell, leaving crippled bodies moaning in pain as he fed on their blood. Once he was rejuvenated he looked through their pouches, taking any gold coins they had, assuming they had taken them from many less fortunate travelers before him.
     "Hardly a fight." he huffed as he stepped from the alley.

     It was time for him to move on, the castle wasn't far off and he needed to speak with the King urgently. He took off with great speed, a few minutes later he was at the Palace. He confidently approached the guards.
     "I wish to speak to the King." He stated to them.
     "Your name sir?" The guards asked in reply.
     "Tell your King Darius Obsidianbreaker wishes to speak with him." He said and began to grow impatient as the guards turned and went into the Castle. Moments later they returned with a familiar face.
     "Gartholomew?" Darus looked stunned.
     "Ah, Darius. Do come in and join me for dinner." Darius was confused but followed the plump man.

     He was seated opposite of Sir Garth at the long royal table watching him eat. The man was vile and disgusting as he filled his stomach.
      "What brings you to Tirtiri?" Garth asked.
      "I need to speak with the King." Darius replied. Garth's face went cold. He changed the subject.
      "We've begun construction in Lowtown." Garth stated. He knew Garth was dodging his question but played along.
      "Constructing what Garth?" Darius asked in anger. Garth reached under the table and drew something familiar to him. He had seen one close up many years ago while visiting the Trolls in the East.
      "A gun?" Asked Darius. Garth then slid the weapon down the table to him and he inspected it. The gun was not like the flintlock ones the Trolls had invented. This one was different. It was a made of Amethyst.
       "So your saying Tirtiri is doing what the Trolls have been doing for years?" He asked slyly trying to get more information from him.
       "I'm saying we've invented industry Darius. These guns are just the beginning. Our Mages have taught us how to manipulate the Amethyst without your precious 'Writ'." Darius became offended but continued to cooperate for information.
       "This is a magic gun?" He asked. Garth adjusted himself before speaking.
       "No, you are misunderstanding. It is mechanically functional, magic provides the fuel required for the shot." Garth smiled and spoke again. "We've managed to copy most of the Troll's war based technology to the point where it no longer needs 'Soulfire' and oil to work, instead it only requires Amethyst magic." Darius was in shock.
      "Where is the King Garth!?" He yelled at the fat man.
      "There is no King. He killed himself and left us all to die on the Night of Cleansing. Him and his pitiful daughter." He could not believe his ears. "We gave her to the wolves, she too is probably dead. They betrayed us all but we stood vigilant. We fought for the people and created a new Order of Governing where the people choose what they want and I represent them. Thus I am their Lord, and yours." Darius was outraged.
      "You are a fool Garth. You know as well as I do that Tirtiri's King would never take his own life!" Garth was now angered.
      "You are under my rule, I will ask you to leave my Castle and my city." Garth spat. Darius shot a look of death back at him and prepared to throw his gun back. "Keep it Darius, call it a gift." He laughed.
      "You have gone mad. Tirtiri will fall, and you be the first to fall with it Garth. You are no King of mine!"Darias stormed to the door, ripping it from its hinges and continuing to yell as he exited the building. "A curse on this Castle Gartholomew. A curse on you and those who follow you. The world will crush you and your 'Industry'!" He was now outside the Castle. He vowed to himself that he would destroy Garth and find the Princess if she still lived.

     Days had passed since He left Tirtiri. The sun had set and he was again on the move towards Arcbolt's cottage.
     "I still cannot believe that idiot. He has doomed the fate of the city and all of the people in it. It will fall." Darius was angered at the thought. His head began to throb, he needed blood. Ignoring his thirst he ventured further through the Great Forest.
     "Curse this place." He muttered to himself.

     He had traveled most of the night trying to forget his hunger but it had not worked. After all these years he had not learned to prevent these cravings. He thought to himself, it was his curse, he asked for it. He stopped, his ears twitching. The sound of sticks cracking in the distance echoed through the forest. He began to follow its sound, quietly examining the area around him. The smell of blood became strong as he neared where it was coming from. Peering from behind a tree he saw it, a massive white stag. It was a magnificent beast, almost towering over him. Its a pity that such a creature would have die tonight he thought. He noticed it limping, a massive gouge taken from the flesh in its leg. It had lost a lot of blood already. Darius stalked his prey, creeping in the shadows quietly. The stag knelt, resting a moment. Darius chose this opportunity to pounce. Biting into its flesh, holding the massive beast still while he drank its life away and replenishing his own. He stood, cracking his neck and stretching. He felt revitalized.

     It was another full day before he was close to the cottage. The sun was rising and Darius was on the move. His feet gliding along the ground at an inhuman speed.
     "Almost there. I can't waste anymore time." He continued to run as the fear built in him. It would only be minutes before the sun climbed over the horizon. If he did not hurry he would burn to death.

     He could see the cottage ahead, he picked up speed and moved forward. Clearing the trees he glanced at the horizon. The sun was up and he could feel his flesh beginning to burn. His clothes burst into flames. The cottage door was in front of him. He charged for it, breaking it and the frame holding it away from the building. He bolted for the shadows, clapping his hands together once to summon a quick gust of air extinguishing the flame.
     "Well" He paused and breathed heavy. "That was close." he sighed in relief and cursed the sun. Looking around the empty cottage his eyes became a deep purple. His wounds began to heal as a violet aura surrounded him.
     "That should keep the sun off of me." He began searching the cottage and realized that it had been left a mess, Arcbolt had left abruptly. He moved to the door and gazed out at the blazing sun. He felt its warmth build inside the aura but it did not burn his flesh.
      "I'll never get used to this." He said as he stepped out the door and into the light, heading down the path towards the forest.

     It was almost morning when Darius came to the beach on the Eastern shore. Casting his protective aura once again as he moved down the hill towards the beach. A familiar caravan came into view as he moved closer to the water. He picked up speed causing the sand to spit into the wind as he shot across the beach.
     "Darius. my friend, the tide shows the limestone well this time of year." Said the man leaning against his caravan.
     "Andrew! I am in dire need of your services." he replied with urgency. The men shook hands and Darius leaned in, whispering something in Andrew's ear.
     "I trust you received Zack's letter?." Andrew asked.
     "I have not." He said, running his hands through his hair showing stress.
     "The King is dead Darius. Zack has initiated a Rebellion on your behalf." Andrew said, informing Darius.
     "I'm aware of the King, I met with Sir. Garth, that is why I need your services. I'm trying to find Arcbolt." He said and Andrew's eyes widened.
     "There is a small boat tied to shore just over there. You may use it but promise me it will be returned in one piece." Darius moved to shake Andrew's hand.
     "You have my word." Darius replied while reaching into his pocket and removing a small gamblers die with six notches carved into it.
     "Tell Zack of our meeting." Darius said. Andrew nodded and spoke.
     "Take this." Andrew was holding a large vial of blood. "The Princess is alive, She was here not one week ago, She's with Arcbolt on the island." Andrew said as he climbed up onto his carriage. Darius smiled and began to ready his boat.

     He had been sailing for no longer than a day. The wind had halted and his boat with it. He used this time to think to himself.
     "If Arcbolt had the Princess with him he must know of Tirtiri's fate." He spoke aloud. "Meaning he would have collected Toran and set sail for Memorika." He smiled. "Same old Arcbolt. Always one step ahead of this old fool." He began laughing. He raised his sword into the air. Dark clouds began to form above and lightning struck nearby. A harsh wind began to fill the sails and he kept laughing as he directed his boat to the north.

     Arcbolt peered over the hill. Magnificent, snow covered evergreens stood in the background. Toran and Ashyla followed closely behind dressed in furs that were too big for them. Arcbolt wore his usual vest and cloak. The cold did not affect him in the same way as it did humans.
    "Be alert young ones. There are dangerous beasts that prowl these lands." He said cautioning the others.
    "Its so cold." Toran complained. The Princess agreed, teeth chattering.
    "How do you stand it Arcbolt?" She asked. He laughed.
    "It is in my blood Princess, just as your blood has its gifts." He replied referring to her magic. She sighed, pulling up the hood around her neck. At least it wasn't windy she thought. She looked for a moment, taking in the beauty of this place. She understood now why it was called The Crystal Blanket. The sun reflected off of the snow in an ever so perfect way that made the surroundings look as though they were made of glass.
     "Come now, we are very close to the Crystal Palace. It is just as beautiful as your Castle, Princess." He said as they climbed over another hill. Just then He stopped. His ears twitching in a familiar way. He drew his bow and knocked an arrow. Toran and Ashyla stopped in their tracks. Drawing their weapons and following suit. Arcbolt's senses were much more keen than both the Princess' or Toran's. He ducked just in time for the two young companions to see a massive dire wolf leap from under a tree and over Arcbolt's head. He fired his arrow. A loud yelp sounded from the wolf and it landed face first in the snow. Shimmering red soon pooled around it but the blood was quickly absorbed by the snow. Ashyla gasped and ran to Arcbolt's side. Roland peeked from her shoulder, commenting on the shot.
     "Now that is a wolf." Arcbolt said as he moved to it, removing the arrow from its torso and placing it back in his quiver. "Princess, I need you to use your magic and burn the wound." She looked at him with confusion. "Burn it closed, so I don't get blood all over me while I carry it." She nodded and held her hand over the wound. Seconds later a small flame burst from between her fingers followed by the smell of burnt hair and flesh. Arcbolt bent to pick up the beast and draped it over his shoulders. He struggled to get his footing and Toran let out a laugh. The beast was almost the same size as the elf, possibly bigger. Just as Arcbolt was situated a voice shot over the hills.
     "So, the exiled Prince returns. And he brings humans with him." Arcbolt dropped the wolf and turned to see six royal scouts heading their way.
     "Put away your weapons young ones, it is no use killing them." Ashyla and Toran agreed with Arcbolt and sheathed their weapons.
     "I do imagine the King will be pleased that you have returned home after all these years." The elven man stood close now inspecting the travelers. "Give us your weapons, you won't need them in the Castle." Ashyla looked in anger as she passed her spear to the unknown elf. "Do not fret child, our guest rooms are quite satisfactory." Lan was relieved that they would not be thrown in a dungeon.
     "We appreciate your cooperation. Please follow us." The scout leader spoke sharply as he and his companions turned and walked ahead.

     Arcbolt lay on his former bed. He stared at the ceiling entranced bye the designs carved into the woodwork. He wondered why he even returned in the first place. Looking towards the door his ears perked up. The muffled voices of the guards standing outside his door angered him. He spoke aloud to himself.
     "I suppose this is the treatment I should receive." He began to pace back and forth in his room wondering how long he would have to wait to see his father.
     "Prince Arcbolt?" The voice spoke loudly from outside. "Your attendance is required in the Throne room." Arcbolt stood waiting as the door was unbarred and opened. He was accompanied by four guards, two guiding him at the front and two ensuring he did not escape at the back. He thought to himself how easy it would be to kill all four of them and escape before anyone noticed.

     Arcbolt glanced at the walls as he passed through the halls of the Palace. He remembered these corridors like he had just traveled through them yesterday. The polished oak beams, obviously imported thousands of years previous. They were a simple depiction of the Nightwind dynasties wealth.

     It was not long before they entered the Throne room. It was just as Arcbolt remembered. A dark blue runway lead from the corridor to the Throne. The family coat of arms hung from eight parallel pillars following on either side of the runway. A guard dressed in signature snow elven armor was posted under each flag. Overhead the ceiling was illuminated by radiant colors representing the Aurora of the Northern sky.

     Arcbolt approached his father who sat with one arm resting on the Throne and his other propping up his chin.
     "Why have you returned?" The King asked his son.
     "I've come with urgent news regarding Tirtiri." Arcbolt replied. The King spoke, paying no attention to his words.
     "You have been exiled. You should have been killed for returning here."
     "But I was not." Arcbolt replied mockingly.
     "Your companions blood was something we did not want on our hands." Spoke the King. The seriousness in his eyes told Arcbolt to choose his next words wisely.
     "Please forgive me father, for my past sins are nothing compared to what is at stake." Arcbolt paused but continued swiftly so as not to be interrupted. "I have brought with me Ashyla, Princess of Tirtiri. Exiled by Lord Gartholomew of the Elite Guard under superstition of treason. The King is dead, murdered by the half demon beasts on the night of the Lunar Cleansing. Tirtiri has fallen victim to corruption and insanity."
     "Do you expect me to believe the ramblings of an exile?" The King asked.
     "No, I expect you to believe the words of your son!" He retorted. Just then the doors burst open.
     "My King, Master Darius Obsidianbreaker of the Mage quarter has returned and wishes to speak with you." The messenger announced.
     "The return of exiles is beginning to test my patience." The King sighed.
     "Your majesty, I bring urgent news." Darius stated, seeming as though he was out of breath.
     "If it is anything to do with the madness in Tirtiri I have heard enough of the rubbish." the King said in and angered tone. He sat in silence and breathed heavily with frustration knowing what Arcbolt spoke of was true but the King believed strongly in tradition and rarely broke it.
      "Two pleading exiles will not taint my decision." He paused and glared at his son for a moment before speaking. "Son." Arcbolt's heart pounded. It had been nearly fifty years since he had been acknowledged by his father. "You are banished and I will not except this bile." Arcbolt cast away any previous feelings before speaking.
      "But father." Arbolt spoke but was quickly interrupted.
      "Tirtiri is a powerful city with a powerful army. If what you speculate is true I would not knowingly send a capable army to its death and risk bringing a plague of war here." His voice echoed throughout the Throne room. Arcbolt's head filled with doubt. He wondered if this expedition was a good idea or a waste of time. He looked around the room seeing his companions and Darius. He glanced again at the Princess and a plan formed in his head.
     "Father, if I might speak?" Arcbolt knelt and awaited an answer.
     "Do so swiftly exile." The King replied.
     "Father, it is you who believes so strongly in tradition is it not? It is this young woman who stands before you that has lost her father in a brutal assassination. Her father was a great man as are you. He too believed in tradition. This man was also the noble King of Tirtiri, the center of our land. Tirtiri is a forgiving place where creatures of all shapes are welcome. This is no longer true. Gartholomew has shaped it into a city of corruption and treachery. This young lady is the rightful heir to the Throne, and was cast out by psychotic rage. So father, I beg you to look into your heart and see this lost child stripped of all she knows. She and the world need your help." An awkward silence fell upon the Throne room. The King sighed and shifted in his seat.
      "Son, you do not understand that my loyalty is not to Tirtiri. It is to Memorika and to my people. It is unwise to send forces to Tirtiri." Arcbolt stood and stepped back, turning to walk away.
      "Prince Arcbolt wait!" Ashyla shouted. Arcbolt turned towards her as she moved to the Throne. "Your majesty King Dinryion Nightwind, perhaps you might strike a bargain with us?" She spoke with confidence.
      "Amuse me child." the King replied.
      "My lord would you agree to send your troops to Tirtiri if we were able to persuade the other factions into joining this cause?" She looked back towards Arcbolt and smiled.
      "And if you cannot?" He asked.
      "We will accept the fate of Tirtiri, my bloodline and the repercussions of this psychotic Order of Governing." The Kings eyes widened at her response. "These repercussions will affect most of the world. Tirtiri controls most of the world's trade and your land is not excluded." The King muttered to himself before standing and raising his hand.
      "Summon the owl." She was confused and turned to look at her companions. A bolt of lightning then struck in front of her causing her to lose her balance and fall. As she stood and saw magnificent owl flying just a few feet above her, it was transparent like ice and gave off a pink aura. . King Dinryion then knelt and an arrow appeared in his hand. It had the same appearance as the owl.
      "Oh owl of pacts, bind my words to my soul. Make this verse so that it cannot be undone." The King stood again. Now raising his hand he plunged the arrow tip into his hand. "I King Dinryion swear that I will send my army to aid in the battle to reclaim Tirtiri upon the success of my son and his companions in gaining the aid of the remaining factions." Ashyla smiled as the King removed the arrow from his bleeding hand and picked up his nearby bow. Toran watched curiously as the King drew the string and aimed carefully at the owl. Ashyla closed her eyes and turned her head. The King released his grip, sending the arrow skillfully towards the owl. Ripping through its skull they both exploded into hundreds of ice shards and fell to the floor crashing like a violent storm.
     "It is done." the King spoke. "You are welcome to any supplies you may need and one night of undisturbed sleep." The group nodded and turned to walk away.
     "Arcbolt, you and your..." The King paused and looked at Darius with disgust before continuing.
     "Your Mage shall stay. I wish to discuss a situation of importance."

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