Silver Blood, Broken Wings, Shattered Heart

Prologue: Crown

You couldn't guess, probably, that today isn't going to be like any other day. The sun is peeking over the horizon, people are peacefully walking through the streets greeting each other pleasantly, no one knows that in mere moments, that life will change forever.

Arcs, youngest prince of the Human Kingdom, yawns as he trudges through the halls. So much he needs to do today, he needs to clean up the monster of a mess in his room (He's 17! He can keep his room how he wants! Sadly, Father disagrees), feed the siege snails (Your pets, your problem, Father said), get back at Bumbo and Grianor for drawing a mustache on Jellie's face!

Jellie, a gray and white cat with demanding pale green eyes, stalks alongside him, purring to beg him for a treat. The drawn on mustache is slightly more faded now, but still Arcs barely laughs whenever he looks at her. Jellie does not seem to like that.

"We'll get back at those rapscallions, Jellie, don't worry," Arcs says, bending down to pet her.

Jellie meows, sniffing the air, and then strangely enough, hiding behind Arcs. Why would she. . .

Arcs stifles a scream when he sees the throne room.

Grianor and Bumbo, Arcs' older brothers, stand there, Grianor with a spear in hand and Bumbo with a strange bloodstone rifle thing. Arcs in no way understands Bumbo's discovery of "bloodstone" or the inventions he makes with it, but he does understand what happened.

He understands that the dead body on the floor is their father.

"What. . ." Arcs stumbles over his words, barely able to speak, "What did you do?"

Bumbo frowns, "We killed Father, I think it's pretty obvious."

"I think he means to ask why, Bumbo," Grianor says, "And the answer is that he's been in power for too long. It's time one of us takes the crown."

"But couldn't you have. . ." Arcs slowly backs away, careful not to step on Jellie, "Why?"

"He's slower of mind than you, Grianor," Bumbo observes, "Still, how are we supposed to decide who becomes king?"

"We could talk it out, hold an election, make posters and campaign peacefully?" Arcs recommended, "The people should decide."

There is a moment of silence, before Bumbo and Grianor just start laughing their heads off.

"Election?" Bumbo asked.

"Peaceful?" Grianor demands, "You're too funny."

"Thank you?" Arcs asked, not sure whether to be shocked, grieving, or just confused.

"We could have a WAR!" Grianor exclaims, sounding quite pleased, "Whoever wins is king!"

"I like the idea of blasting you with bloodstone," Bumbo agrees, "I'm in."

"I. . .have no say in this, do I?" Arcs asks in a small voice.

"No," Grianor and Bumbo say in unison.

"Should we kill him right now, Grianor?" Bumbo asks, "Make it a bit easier for the both of us?"

"No, he deserves a chance, more fun that way," Grianor replies, stowing his spear, "In fact, he keeps the castle. The servants have probably already caught wind of what happened, and will imprison us on sight. They'll listen to Arcs. He needs a bit of a head start."

"He really does," Bumbo nods in agreement.

"Well, Bumbo, let's go get our allegiances sorted out," Grianor shrugs, "I'm calling my side House Boatem."

"Why. . ." Arcs asks.

"You'll see, eventually," Grianor says.

"Mine is House Bloodstone!" Bumbo calls.

"House Jellie?" Arcs asks, still confused about the whole situation.

"Then it's settled," Grianor says, "See you on the battlefield, brothers."

He and Bumbo both leave without so much as a backward glance.

Meanwhile, Arcs just stands there in the bright, open room next to the corpse of his father.

Jellie meows as though in sympathy, a look of grief in her pale green eyes as well.

Arcs sights and pets her, feeling like she's his only friend in this dark, lonely world.