Wet Fire

The Envoy (E6)

Blythe

A black banner flapped in the wind on the highest tower of Quartzhilde Castle. Blythe, too, was dressed in black and walked through the cobblestone courtyard, as silent as a snake. His leather boots were caked in mud and his cloak was ripped down the back.

Puffy gray clouds covered the winter sun and sent a chill into the air. There was no one about, and the only sound he heard was a faint wail coming from one of the rooms high above him. Barnacle geese flocked down into the courtyard and landed on the rocks next to the staircase, supposedly waiting for prey. Blythe ascended the stairs of the Throne Hall, and kicked some of the geese out of the way. Stubborn pests. The rest hopped off the the side, wary of Blythe's presence.

He gripped the handle of the double doors and swung them open. A loud noise echoed though the hall. The two Akauri guards who stood guard by the door turned towards him, expressionless. "Prince Blythe," the tall one said, "what are you doing her in this grievous hour?"

"Leave me." Blythe said.

The guards look at each other and said, "As you wish, sire." They strode off briskly and left Blythe alone in the dark.

As he walked further into the room, the wind began to howl outside, and there was a strange tapping noise on the door. Blythe ignored it and continued down the center of the hall, trying to step between the mosaic walkway like the king would.

So, you got your wish, fool. Approaching the throne, Blythe hesitated. Never was he allowed to sit upon the king's seat, not even Adair had been allowed to. His palms grew sweaty and he forced his legs to climb another set of steps. he turned around and faced the hollow hall. I will be the king. The thought still seemed like a fantasy.

Sit down like a king would. He commanded himself. His back tensed up and he sat on the edge of the seat, gripping the armrests nervously. Sit back and relax like the king would. Slowly, Blythe slunk into the seat until his back felt the back of the throne. He breathed a sigh of relief, but his legs were still shaking.

It doesn't seem right. I am the only prince now, I will be the king. I will be the king. I will be the king. He closed his eyes and mouthed this thought until he forgot its meaning, then he folded his hands and laid them upon his lap. The king of what?

Blythe stared out into the Throne Hall, trying to imagine a full court of people. They would be dressed in bright colors, and watching him to give the word. He would tell them when to start the dance, and all the women and their husband would stand up and start spinning in circles as they always do at balls. King Blythe would take the hand of his queen and descend the steps to join the others. Together they would dance for hours until it was time for the feast to be brought out. Blythe could almost smell the ham.

But today, everyone in the city had shut themselves up in their homes after receiving the news about the lost ships. Blythe wondered if they would ever be cheerful enough for a dance again, or if they would remain dressed in black until the end of the age. I would be known as Blythe, the Dark King of the Dark Kingdom of Cyclonus, sitting upon a dark throne with a black cape sewn into his back forever. No one would come to see me-I would be alone, unloved, and what good is a king if he is unloved by his people?

His hand found its way to one of the golden buttons on his vest, it was rough and engraved with the symbol of Cyclonus. He rubbed it for a while, staring out into the empty hall, thinking about what the future may hold.

"Blythe!" his father's voice boomed like a cannon.

Blythe jerked his head around to see the King standing there to the left of the throne, along with several Akauri guards and the Auran envoy, Milka. The king's face was twisted into a frown.