The Brightest Kingdom with The Darkest Corners

Chapter Two- Sealed With A Ribbon

 Roman arrived at the old, run-down shack that the other mage lived in. Vines traveled up the cracked and moldy wooden walls and weeds went up to Roman's knees. The air was heavy and reeked of rotten food. The shack itself was very small, about the size of a living room. The paint was chipping off from the wood, and the roof had many messy and lazy patchwork done on it. The stairs leading up to the shack creaked and groaned as Roman slowly climbed up on it. Nails sticking out and falling off the foundation. Rats skittered and scrambled on the rafters. Their red eyes seemed to almost burn into Roman's soul.

 "Who could live like this?" The prince mumbled as he lifted up his foot to avoid stepping in a pile of rat dung. A big wooden sign hung from the door by a rusty nail. In red paint, it said; 'GET OUT' in big letters. The sentence underlined multiple times. Under the sign was piles of old newspapers, that has clearly never been read before. Some of them were the color of the weeds in the yard.

 Roman wasn't the one to back down, though. Instead, he stepped right onto the newspapers and knocked on the door three times. The knocks were loud and echoed throughout the hut. "Virgil? We need to talk." He said coldly, keeping his voice loud and stern, yet emotionless as possible. Nothing happened. There was just silence. The prince tried to open the door, but the handle only jiggled. The door was locked. Roman cursed under his breath and knocked harder. So hard that his knuckles bruised. "VIRGIL." He said louder, eyes narrowed. "I know you're in here." He mumbled as he put one hand on his hip. "Just open up!"

 Finally, after about five minutes of waiting, the door handle moved up and down slowly, and the door opened slowly with a loud creak. Behind the door was a short man, with messy brownish/blackish hair with purple tips. His eyes were the color of coals, and black bags weighed them down. They sorta looked like raccoon eyes. A bright red ribbon was wrapped around the pale neck of the figure, and he was wearing a long black cloak. A purple stash over his shoulders, with multiple bottles filled with herbs and liquids attached to it. Black piercings were in the boy's ears, and he was holding a large, thick dark red book. The book was almost as big as his arms. This was Virgil, an outcast and a thief. His look of confusion shifted to one of amusement. "Ah, Prince Roman. Whom do I own the pleasure to?" He asked, cockiness in his voice. His words were quiet, and Roman scented a hint of concern in it.

 "No funny business, mage. I have questions." Roman growled as he pushed past the smaller male and into the hut.

 The hut had racks of pots and bottles all over the walls. A tiny, uncomfortable bed laid in the corner. Dust floated around in the room, across from the bed was a small station. A bookshelf filled with spells and journals laid against the wall, with a large bubbling pot in front of it. The pot was filled with greenish liquid that bubbled and hissed at the prince. It smelled strangely like herbs and roast beef. The smell was enough to make Roman's mouth water, but he knew better then to taste a random liquid. Even if it did smell good. A fuzzy black kitten was asleep on the window sill next to a potted plant. The cat had a red collar around it's neck that read 'Shadow'.

 "Woah! Hey!" Virgil yelled as he was pushed past, eyes wide as he stumbled back. "What gives?! I haven't done anything! You can't just barge into here!" He protested. But Roman ignored him, shaking his head as he took out the unusual apple and chucked it at his chest. "What do you know about this?!" He demanded, and Virgil paled. His eyes wide as he turned away, dropping the apple. "I...don't know what you're talking about. I didn't do this."

 Roman, of course, was suspicious. He grabbed Virgil's arm roughly and pushed him back against the wall with a soft thud. The mage gasped, and narrowed his dark eyes. His mouth twisted into a scowl. "Get off me." He demanded, his voice strained. He was hiding something, Roman knew this. Virgil was avoiding eye contact. "What do you know about the crops?! Who did it, if you didn't?!" Roman yelled, causing the other to flinch under him.

 Virgil looked up at him, his expression changed. It was cold, his eyes were glossy. "I...can't tell you." He mumbled, his eyes then shifted to be trained on the ground. "Even if I want to."

 Roman frowned and pulled away, crossing his arms against his chest. "Why not? Who's stopping you? If someone is threatening you, I can order guards to protect you." He said. But the other just shook his head and growled. "NO." He said with sudden, with a urge in his voice. "He'll  just be there...even if no one knows it." Virgil then shifted and looked out the window, hugging himself. His fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeves. "My lips are sealed."

 Roman frowned. "Who will? Is he dangerous? Do I have to arrest you to get an answer out of you, mage? Huh?!" But there was no response. He growled and started to pace, pulling at his hair. Trying to think of what to do. Then, there was a knock on the door.

"Sir! I got someone who can help you!" It was the guard. Standing with him was a short male, with curly brown hair with pinkish tips and bright, friendly eyes, hidden behind a pair of thin glasses. He was wearing a white apron, with flour and sugar all over it. A bowl of cookie batter in his tanned arms. A crooked white baker's hat placed on top of his head.

 "I heard you needed help with some crops, isn't that right, Roman? Well, lucky for you, I don't only know how to bake!~"