Artturi Focus

Prologue

 "The king and queen are-"

Clang. Clang. Clang.

The thundering boom of the church bells drowned out the servant boy's cries. His twig-thin arms waved maniacally in the air. Even though the bells did not stop, he still screamed, his Adam's apple looking like it was ready to burst from his throat. A curious baker peered outside of his door at the sight of the boy and the boom of the bells. His wife came up from behind him.

"By gods, I swear that the telling of time had already passed less than five minutes ago. What do you think-" She covered her mouth when the servant boy tripped over cobblestone, splashing into a muddied puddle from a morning storm.

The baker walked outside to the boy and leaned down. "Boy! What are you saying?" he asked. The boy looked up, his pale face now decorated with splotches of brown water. He opened his mouth to speak and the baker leaned in, struggling to hear, but to no avail. "Well? Speak up!"

"The queen... she-"

"Grigor! The flags! The flags!"

The baker, Grigor, looked to the castle at the sound of his wife's voice. It seemed darker than usual-- its black spires reached up to the sky, but its tips were already obscured by graying clouds. It felt like an ominous warning. The darkness itself almost hid the flags and tapestries being raised and draped all over the castle. From a distance, the red embroidery on them only appeared as a dot, but Grigor knew enough about the kingdom to know that an upturned dragon with a knife piercing its neck decorated them. He took his baker's hat off his head and hugged it close to his chest. It was only due to the close distance of the bakery did the two bakers see it that day.

No words needed to be spoken as the flags spoke silent words louder. Someone in the monarchy had died. If what the servant boy said was true, then both the king and queen were affected. And if the dragon on the flags that day had been only pictured in an eternal rest, they could assume that they had died in their sleep, the dragon white instead of red. But no. The message was clear.

The king and queen were murdered.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Perched on the tiled roof of the bakery, a silver-blue falcon cocked its head at the scene below. Without a sound, the falcon flapped its wings and took to the sky and toward the castle.

The windows that seemed so small from a distance grew to gigantic proportions up close; especially for such a tiny bird. The falcon flitted in midair before one window above the throne room. Not much could be seen over the impressive throne where all the guards, advisors, and general snoops were staring at. Its piercing amber eyes settled on a small stream of dark red and followed it down the red carpet. At a young teenager's feet did the stream finally end. Their attire was more grandiose than the others in the room and a small silver circlet adorned their head. Like everyone else, their attention was on the horrific scene hidden by the throne. Then, the teen looked up. The falcon's wings seemed to stop flapping for a lifetime. Their wide yellow eyes focused on the bird instantly, an unnatural fire burning within them. They seemed to know a secret; a secret that could not be deciphered and taunted the falcon as such. What had they witnessed just moments before? Paralyzed in place, the falcon only remembered its duty to fly when a woman in a maid uniform approached the teen and whispered in their ear. The teen drifted their attention elsewhere.

The falcon swept far down below to where a hole big enough for a small bird led to the pantry. It hugged the walls and ceiling, finally perching on an uneven stone. A new energy had filled the pantry as cooks and servants huddled together and spoke in low voices.

"She killed the king! The new maid of the higher west hall told me so. She died because the king had stabbed her before he could go down!"

"No no! They were practicing the dark artes and summoned a demon that murdered them! A servant boy told me and he's been here longer than any new maid."

"Who will rule now?"

That question hung in the air. A minute passed.

"The prince, of course."

"He's only fourteen years! Traumatized!"

"We need a king, fool! Traumatized or not!"

"But can he rule without a regent?"

A new servant boy opened the door in which the falcon had so stealthily slid over. "They raised the flags already," he exclaimed. Outside, the bells of the church rang once again. They would not stop until every person living in the castle town had stopped their daily lives and swarmed the street in what should have been a perfectly normal late-summer afternoon.

While the staff absorbed this new information, the falcon made its escape through the now open door. Not a soul paid attention to the little bird as it shot up to the sky. The low clouds covered it as it flew past the castle and past the town, but gradually thinned out as its journey continued through fields and pastures. The darkness hadn't reached as far yet. Greenery and livestock dotted the landscape and rivers snaked through hills and valleys.

Finally, its home was in view: a ramshackled house in the middle of nowhere atop a hill. Two great stones stood upright, but how they got there in the first place was a mystery for the only people who lived there was a man whose eyes had not seen the light of the stars since long ago and his son. Descending, the falcon landed on top of a rock and cried out. It then proceeded to tend to its plumage.

An old wooden door creaked open. Splintered on top and on bottom, the duo living there resorted to stuffing clothes around the door during the winter and invited small vermin during the summer even while it was closed. A man no older than forty, but appearing much older due to his long, white hair walked out. He turned his head toward the stone where the falcon sat and narrowed his clear eyes. "You bring news, Aderyn... But none of it good. Please." He slowly walked to the stone and bent down to sit against it in the shade. He sat down with not more than a slight groan due to age. "Come. Please tell me what you have seen, my friend."

The falcon named Aderyn pulled its beak from its feathers and swooped down on top of the man's whitened head where balding had not yet begun-- a fact that the man was quite proud of. Usually, he would give off a soft laugh when the falcon nestled in his hair, but today was not one of those days.

"The king and queen have died? Murder, they say?" The man stroked his beard, his eyes scanning the floor for some answer as his mind began to run circles. "This is very troubling. No. You are right. It's foolish to think that the dark artes had anything to do with this. But this means that it will soon be time for the stars to set their plan into motion."

"Aderyn!" Aderyn flapped its wings at the sudden sound and the man moved his head toward the door of his home. Hugging the door frame was a boy with ashy honey-brown hair and big, circular glasses. A small open-mouthed smile seemed so awkward amongst the moods that the falcon and the man shared. However, that small smile lowered down to an "o" of concern after seeing his father's troubled expression. "Father?"

The man closed his eyes and smiled softly. "Come here, Myrddin. Aderyn's news will be no secret in the days to come."

Myrddin walked to his father and sat down, shuffling closer until his head touched his shoulder. He looked up at the falcon and the falcon returned his gaze with a low kew. His father wrapped an arm around his shoulder. The three sat in silence for a while. A breeze played with the grass and lazy clouds passed overhead. Myrddin was soon occupied with a caterpillar traversing over his shoe.

"Myrddin, you may soon have to play a role that I had prayed you'd never have to." The man finally said. "I knew that this was your fate ever since you were born, but I didn't want to accept it."

The boy pushed up his glasses. "Aderyn said that I have to be the one who aids today? What did she see, father?"

"She didn't say anything of the sort. It can only be presumed by what she really saw." The boy held his breath and his father paused, deciding his next words. "The monarchy has fallen today. The king and queen no longer breathe on this plane."

"Both of them? Were they..." Myrddin hesitated. "Murdered?" he asked in a lowered voice.

His father gently nodded, careful to not disturb Aderyn. "You figure things out quickly, son. Yes, a murder did happen, but only one."

Myrddin stared at Aderyn, wishing that he was able to communicate with her like his father did. "One? Then, what happened to the other?" He furrowed his brows in concentration and then faced down to his father. "Are you saying that the other killed themself?"

Aderyn let out a little kew-kew and his father smiled briefly. "The palace is filled with secrets that us peasants are never supposed to know. Lies, anger, and even desperation. It was only a matter of time."

Myrddin would have asked how did his father know about the things "us peasants are never supposed to know", but he knew that his answer would be: He just knew because the land of Afallach and the stars above told him themselves. He had to admit that it was a little annoying to him and his endless curiosity. He would have labeled his father as being a bit senile if it were not for the fact that the things he claimed Aderyn would say to him would always be true and that he was undeniably a great mage. And he could actually share his knowledge well when he wanted to.

"So, will I have to aid the prince heir?" He could not imagine roaming the castle next to a boy king, wrapped up in all the luxuries royalty presented. The prince had never been the sociable sort from what he heard. Having lost his parents so suddenly would no doubt either drag him further into the shadows or force him into a position of command. An aid would definitely be just what he needed. But could he really help him?

"Prince Idris? Oh, no no no. One has to wonder why he was there when both his parents died yet he was untouched," he said. "You are only nine, right?" Of course his father knew, but Myrddin replied with an mm-hmm nonetheless. "It is too early for you to meet them. I tell you this in advance in order to prepare your mind and soul for what is to come, but not to ride off into battle." His clear eyes smiled. "There are still many years that I want to share with you and you have much to learn... and much that you must unlearn."

"When will it be my time then, father?" Myrddin asked. "Not that I'm impatient or anything. I- Well, um..." He looked down, awkwardly fidgeting with his fingers.

"It seems that I will have to open up the family funds for you soon. I'm afraid that there are some things that only a school away from our home will be able to teach you. As for when you will know," Aderyn flew down and found her new perch of Myrddin's knee; so his father leaned his back and closed his eyes. "Well, I suppose that you'll know when the land of Afallach and the stars above tell you."