Friend, or Foe?

We approach the doors of solid gold, leading into the palace. I begin to push up against the heavy doors, but the symbols upon them avert my attention. Near the top and centered are 6 gems of a variety hues of red, surrounding a symbol of a phoenix perched on branches. These branches follow the perimeter of the door, disappearing into the flames etched at the base. The symbol of the phoenix is familiar to me. I examine the artwork more closely, trying to discern where I may know it from. I have been in and out of this palace many times, but the doors are typically opened by the palace guards, and I had never really taken notice to it. 

“Um... are you okay?” Victrina’s voice stirs me from thought. “You have been staring at the bird on this door for a solid minute, now.”

“It’s a phoenix.” I plainly state. “Sorry. Give me a hand getting this door open.”

The doors take an exuberant amount of effort from both of us in order to swing ajar. I hear the scraping of wood against the marbled floors of the palace as we force the door open. With a motion of my head in the direction of the small opening we have made, I signal Victrina to move inside. She nods, and squeezes in between the two doors. 

“Someone has blocked the doors off with furniture!” Victrina claims excitedly. I hear the ruckus of wood splintering and vases shattering as she tosses aside the furniture to move it out of the way. “Do you think we will find any survivors?”

With Ben on my mind, I want to say yes. “I don’t know. We should be cautious, however.” 

She looks at me through the narrow gap in the doorway. “Don’t be so paranoid. And perk up a little! Perhaps we were not given the best of circumstances, but we’re here. We survived. And we have each other, maybe more in this palace. We may not be able to decide what happens, but we do have the power to make out of it what we will.” She vanishes behind the door again, pushing a larger piece of furniture out of the way, as grunts and the scraping of wood on marble sounds. The ensemble from beyond the door stops. “You know, you never told me your name,” she states from behind the large doors.

The concealment of my expression warps to a slight smile, as I process her words in my mind. “My name’s Isaac. Pleasure to officially be met, Victrina.” The door begins to slowly open more, as the blockade is pushed aside. I manage to open it enough to comfortably join her inside the palace. 

“Likewise,” she states, with a skip in her step as she turns to face me. “Come on, I saw a light in one of the rooms.”

The news excites me, and I look past Victrina to see the room, alit. Light pours out into the corridor, dancing in harmony with the flicker of the flame from the candle inside. Victrina and I start toward the room, heading down the long hallway. Most of the palace is alit from the light produced outside, with a lot of wall space being utilized for intricate stain-glassed windows. This section, on the other hand, has no window to flood it with light, and is typically alit with candles. The candles were out along the walls, and the only light visible was being produced by the room. My pace begins to pick up, my motivation enticed by the dance of the light outside the door. 

“Easy! Don’t go running in. You can remain a little paranoid.”

Her words do not falter me, and I run through the doorway. My hopes are shattered when I see a man sitting at the table, facing the candle in a trance. His head slowly turns around to look in my direction. A string of drool hangs from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes are bloodshot and fail to blink. His hair is frazzled and lacks uniform. The clothes he wears are fine, made with high quality material and detail, though covered in blood. Although, the estranged  man has no visible wounds that I can detect. He’s just staring at me with an absent look on his face. He wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth, and stands. I back up to the entryway of the room, with Victrina close behind, holding my arm against her as if trying to protect her from this pariah.

“You... you are... one of them.” The man walks towards a counter space, resting against the wall, tangent from where he was sitting. I ready my blades when I notice his eyes fixated upon a skinning knife. 

“What are you talking about?” I question the man.

“There were others like you,” he states in a monotone voice. He now holds the skinning knife in his hand, and is spinning the tip on his finger. “You and the others started this... you started... the mayhem.” His arm drops to his side, knife in hand, and he turns toward me and Victrina. 

“Isaac, what is he talking about? Do you know this man?” Victrina interrogates me, skeptically. 

The man interjects with a shout, “I don’t know him!” He hunches over in distress. The lunatic is either afflicted with some sort of illness, or is having a breakdown. His voice comes down to a faint whisper. “I have no... affiliation with monsters like him.” He presses his back against the wall, and his head produces a large thud as it hits the wall to his back. He slides down the wall and sticks his head in between his knees, and begins to twitch. 

Victrina pushes my arm aside and heads toward the troubled man. 

“Be careful, Victrina... Not too close,” I caution her, following closely behind. 

The man sobs and twitches in despair. Victrina approaches him, a few feet away, and proceeds to crouch down to get on his level. He raises the skinning knife up to Victrina, pointing it at her. “You... you need to leave. Him... your blood will be his. I have seen... the others do it. Others... like him.” He wraps his arm back around his leg, and buries his face between his knees. 

Victrina stands to back away. She turns to me, questionably. Her eyes seem to suggest I have wronged her, though I know naught of what this man is talking about. I take her place in front of the man. “Who is it you think I am?”

Rapidly, his eyes shoot up to stare into mine. “Back... back away...” His blade is now at the ready. 

I back away, again holding my arm against Victrina to signal she ought to do the same. 

He clumsily props himself up to a standing position, staring into my face without blinking. “The others... you made monsters. You made monsters... out of people. I won’t... I can’t. I will not become... a monster.” He thrusts his blade in my direction. I manage to evade it by ducking out of the way. With his arm now near my head, I put a blade above and below his forearm. Clamping the blades, I slice through his skin. 

He drops the skinning knife and screams in agony, holding his arm and backing away. His eyes turn to me. “I won’t...” He quickly connects a punch to my face. It staggers me backward, and my vision blacks for a small amount of time. I taste my blood. Vision returning, but fuzzy, I see an incoming punch thrown my way. I manage to evade and kick his legs out from underneath with a swoop of my feet. He collapses onto his back.

I scoot around to where his head is positioned, and hold him in a headlock. My blade is pressed against his neck threateningly. “Stop this! I am not who you think I am! I have no idea what your talking about!”

The man refrains from moving in the chokehold. “Deceit! Deception... cons... you lie! I know of your kind... I have read the legends!” The man grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head down toward his. “This... you lie!” He struggles to break free. In his flailing, he impales his neck with my blade. I release him. He stands and staggers around, disoriented, holding his neck trying to retain blood.

“I’m... sorry.” I stand and look toward Victrina. She watches the man in his suffering with her jaw dropped. She turns to look at me with watery eyes. “Victrina... I truly do not know what this man was talking about.”

The man collapses, and Victrina jumps at the sound his body makes hitting the floor. She turns, again, to me. “Yeah.. yeah, I know.” She bites her lip, suppressing speaking further, and walks out of the room. I look around the room, as I feel an uneasy presence around me, like the feeling of being watched. The candlelight dances around in synchronization of the light bouncing off the pale walls. Shadows are probably just playing tricks on my mind. I have to keep it together.

I walk out of the room to find Victrina sitting on the ground with her back against the wall.

She refrains from looking at me. “You... were looking for someone, weren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” 

Maintaining her posture, and looking at the ground, she says, “When you noticed the light in the room, you had a sense of hope. I could see it in you. And you, who seems to be overly careful, recklessly ran into a room that could have... had those things in them.”

“Did I worry you?” I say slyly, trying to deter her from the subject.

“Stop. Were you looking for someone in specific? A loved one?” Her patience has thinned.

I let out a deep sigh and say in a mild tone, “Ben.”

“That’s all you’re going to give me? Who is Ben?”

“He’s... my brother. We were at... we were in the Exile Forest, and had a disagreement. He left for here. I haven’t been able to find him.”

“I see. That must be difficult... I’m sorry.” She shies away, looking down at the ground and clasping her hands. She directs her attention toward me. “We should continue to search for him, then.”

“Thank you, Victrina.” We continue back down the corridor, the way we came. I recall Davin’s cabin. The simplicity of it, and his humble demeanor. His happiness. Wisdom. The columns of marble that seem never ending in this palace are now more so apparent than they had ever been in my 4 years here. Extending to the ceiling, wrapped in a ribbon of onyx; they seem so unnecessary. Statues of past kings gloat their privileges at either side of the staircase. The staircase is pure white stone, wide at its base and narrow at its top. It leads to the war council room, with the throne room beyond that. A doorway to the east inside the war council room leads to Ardula’s private chamber, and the room across from that houses Cid, the Knight-Commander.

“This place... is huge.” Victrina is gazing up at the ceiling, looking as if she is about to lose balance. “It makes me dizzy.”

I smile in her direction. “You should see the Exile Forest. Treetops extend farther than even these columns. The sky is replaced with leaves: the trembling and swaying orchestrated by the wind, only interrupted by a few scatterings of blue and light.”

Victrina seems surprised by my comment. “That sounds... beautiful. Do you go to the forest often?”

I guide Victrina to lead up the stairs. “Work demands so, at times.” I hesitate. Perhaps I should not grow too comfortable. “Typically, I enjoy hiking Zeti Peak, to the east. I’m sure you have seen it, rising above the city’s walls. The mouth of Lifeblood River is located partially up the range, embedded in some foothills, and provides some of the best freshwater fishing in the world.”

The ends of Victrina’s mouth curl to form a smile. “I’d like to go sometime. Maybe you can show me after we find Ben.” She rubs my shoulder, and presents the door to the war council room. 

I motion her to step aside, and she presses her back against the wall next to the door. The door is cracked, and requires little effort to push open. I press my index finger against the door lightly, and peek around to see if anyone is present inside. The overwhelming scent of the deceased disturbs my senses. Before I can look further into the room, I turn to face the outside and get fresh air. Victrina looks at me worryingly. I inhale deeply to endure the smell, and gently push the door ajar once again. Peeking my head around the door, my breath is held, but I become light headed at the sight of what lies inside the war council room. 

The deceased here have been burned alive. Some still smoldering, captured in a plaster of their own melted skin. I turn back around out of the door and gag. 

“What is it?” Victrina leans closer to me to get a better look at my face. She cringes at the smell that billows through the doorway. “Wh-what is that smell?”

“Stay here. I need to check these rooms for Ben.”

“And... other survivors.” Victrina adds.

“After witnessing what lies beyond this door, I’m not sure there are any survivors. To be honest... I’m looking for a body.” I brace myself to enter the room.

Victrina looks into my eyes with worry. “Do be careful, Isaac. I’ll be waiting here.”

I clasp my hands around her hand, and nod in her direction. I inhale deeply again, and open the door quickly with determination. I head straight for the Knight-Commander’s room, focus only directed on the door that stands between me and getting out of this room. I crouch down once I reach the door, and slowly push it open. I slide into the room and shut the door behind me. Reluctant to breathe, I quickly scope out the room to see if there are any visible remains. To my surprise, the room is empty. I breathe with a sigh of relief. Seeing no posable threat, I search. Even though all of this craziness has ensued, I haven’t forgotten that Cid has affiliations with the Light Brigade. I rummage through his belongings, starting with his knapsack. Perhaps the Light Brigade has something to do with this. I cannot rule out the possibility that even Cid may have some part in it, as well. The man has never wronged me; always kind, and gentle-hearted. However, commonfolk and nobility alike share the same image of Ardula. My contempt for Ardula grows inside me. 

After thoroughly searching Cid’s house for any information, I find my efforts to be a waste. He possesses no misplaced letter or note. In disappointment, I head back to the door. I know that this time, when I run through the War Council room to Ardula’s room, I must try to examine the bodies to see if I can discern who they may be. Cid was a very tall man, and even... burned... would stand out amongst many. Ben... he is the same... though slightly shorter, but bulkier, than Cid...

I shudder at my thoughts. Keep it together. I brace myself and take a deep breath. Quickly swinging the door open, I head towards the first body in the war council room. This individual is stout. I move on. The next individual is tall, but not tall enough to be Cid. I head in that direction to ensure it is not Ben. The jawline is wide, the physique is large. I realize the possibility that this victim could, indeed, be Ben. My hope combats the tears building in my eyes. I could be mistaken. I look around for the next individual, but find my eyes returning to the corpse I just examined. I cannot know, dwelling on it like this. Seeing no point in examining the three remaining bodies, I head toward Ardula’s quarters. Holding my breath becomes difficult. Burnt chairs scattered throughout the room serve as obstacles that I hurdle over to reach my destination. I make it to Ardula’s room, and push the door open to creep inside. 

I relieve my need for air, and glance around the room. I have never been in his room before. The place is filled with books to the point where finding floor to walk on is difficult. The only open space is around Ardula’s oversized bed. I suspect he requires this open space to allow room for his gut when he rolls out of bed every morning. 

Reading is difficult for me, but I browse some of the titles of the books surrounding his bed. Most of the books are damaged, thrown into piles around the room, but one stands out on his night stand. I walk over to it, and pick up the book. The Barbaric Tribe of... “Glue Dotchy...” I sound out the word aloud. “Ah, Glue Dosh!” I feel a little bit of gratification being able to figure it out. With everything changing the way it is, I’m really going to have to learn to appreciate the little things more. 

My attention turns back upon the book. Why would Ardula take interest in the Glu’Dache, I wonder. Opening my knapsack, I stick the book inside. Perhaps, if Ben is still alive, he can read it and explain it to me. Davin may be able to shed some light on the book, too. Regardless, the creatures I witnessed earlier seemed magical in nature. The only group I know to have magical capabilities are the Glu’Dache, and something tells me the book may be of importance. 

I peruse around the room, on the lookout for anything else that catches my attention. Eager to get out of the city, and knowing that time could be short, I head back through the maze of books. Breathing deeply to fill my lungs with fresh air, I pull the door open, sights set on the door to the Royal Chamber.

Courage stimulates me to examine the room more closely this time. The war council room is hardly recognizable in this condition. Flames have painted sections of the bright, white wall in blackness. The path that leads around the perimeter of the room was elegant. A shining red rug wrapped itself around the room, surrounding the middle section. This rug is now blackened, bearing singed threads, and scattered in pieces throughout. Four sets of stairs with a few steps each lead to the middle section, in an area slightly lower than the perimeter of the room. Before, a beautiful darkwood table surrounded with matching chairs and cushioned seats were placed in the center of the room. Looking upon it now, the table has been flipped on its side, and scorched on both ends. The chairs are irreparable, and strewn about from the center of the room to the walls. Examining the room from this perspective, at the north end, I notice that there are more deceased here than originally thought. I pity them... Some crawling, cowering; retaining the position they had when killed. It’s eery... the flames were clearly controlled.

I approach the Royal Chamber, and play out the same actions as I had with the previous rooms. I slide inside. Ardula stands before me, alive and well. I wield a dagger in each hand. 

“Isaac.” Ardula speaks, facing away from me. He crouches down and puts a hand on the chest of the belated King Herald. The King’s wounds are abundant and deep, but the only blood visible does not seep from or surround these wounds. Rather, it has soaked into the rug beneath him. “You need to leave.”

“What are you playing at, Ardula?! How long have you been here?” The disgust I hold for Ardula at this moment was unequivocal to any animosity I have ever felt for another. 

Bervius stands to turn and face my direction. His eyes look glazed, and engulfed in patches of darkness seeped into his skin. “This problem is bigger than the both of us, Isaac.” His voice is monotone, and deeper than usual. “Find Ben.” He turns to pick up the deceased King Herald. Suddenly, as he touches the King, his feet begin to shimmer, and the shimmering rises through his body. In seconds, an aura surrounds the King and Ardula, and millions of bright, tiny particles begin to spread out randomly, erasing his body from view.

“What is this? Ardula, you coward!” I run toward him, not really sure what is going on, or what I will do if I reach him before he dissipates away.