Princess of the Sky

DARIUS

Several long days had passed without word from the regent, and Darius decided to begin marking them on the wall.

He grabbed a rock and drew his lines as dust powdered down; there wasn't much to it. No doubt, he would be imprisoned for a long, long time. The door leading outside the cell was made from reinforced steel, so there was no hope of making an escape that way. The more he thought about everything, the more he became disappointed in himself. Wasn't it the royal protector's job to protect? Why had he needed to be so passionate in that one moment. Passion never got anyone anywhere; such outbursts only led to disaster in the end. He was foolish to have been so outspoken. Clenching a fist, Darius punched the wall. It bled a bit at the knuckles, but he didn't care. It was the only thing he could do to relieve the stress at that point.

The only bit of natural light shined through a barred window in the ceiling he wouldn't ever be able to reach. It was a great shaft, and Darius stared at it like some faux ray of hope. It was the night, and the dark corners of his cell seemed to reach out with him with eldritch hands. Squirming, inky things that threatened to pull him into the darker parts of Elsewhere. Like where those creatures came from, perhaps. He thought of the eight. Those ghosts from the old Sarkanese kingdom that used to have its domain here.

Sighing, he sat down near the light. He drew on the sandstone floor, entertaining himself. He drew Beatrice, himself, and then the other two siblings. But he did not draw His and Her Majesty. They are gone, he thought. Queen Aya is dead, and Langer might as well be too. For all he knew, perhaps Langer actually was, despite whatever Beatrice might have prophesied. Marius couldn't bear to kill his friend of years... but then again, was exile in the Farthest Desert worse than death itself? He shook his head. He couldn't begin to dissect the regent's intentions, as he was volatile, and seemed absolutely unpredictable in his methods. Perhaps it was a similar passion that drove the regent too as well; he'd do anything for the reunification of the region, and Darius would do anything for the royal family's safety.

All candidates for the role of royal protector were orphaned at a young age, chosen from the lowest of the low: children that would otherwise have no other purpose in life than to live on the streets, or worse, become a slave. Darius had been picked out of a caravan of refugees immigrating to Candia for the promise of freedom. It was a hard time, and while Darius was no slave, he was awfully close toward becoming one. Too close, and every waking moment he spent at his young age was one spent in fear. Would Sarkans have him? Civetia? Huslani pirates? He did not know.

Young Darius got what he wanted though—guaranteed freedom. He picked the pocket of a rich looking fellow that had been passing by. Turned out, Darius had passed his first test... one of agency. While he was unsuccessful in stealing anything, the old man of eighty two years would go on to be his mentor: the previous royal protector of Candia. an Aidean man who was greatly skilled with the katana, as well as with the regular sword.

The winds were particularly active that day, and as such, the sand dunes stretched out into the air with a fantastic reach. Darius, who wanted to buy some food from a merchant on his way to Civet, saw a man donned in a large, multicolored robe. It was an expensive garb, no doubt, and Darius, with a keen eye, spotted a long, golden chain slinking out from one of the man's inner pockets. That was his moment. He'd pilfer it and sell it to the merchant for food for weeks!

He tip-toed his way across the sand, his feet seeming to burn despite the protection of his sandals. The sun shined bright, and there was no cloud cover that day. Darius sweated, the droplets no doubt vaporizing as they hit the ground below. A great mirage swayed in the distance past where the robed man stood, several dead savannah trees refracting off a nonexistent oasis on the ground. Such tricks of nature Darius had since learned to pass off as nonsense.