Wanderess

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

"She is to Ascend then? And within the year?"

Nodding, Adrian held his hands behind his back, spine straight and legs parted, the stance of a soldier, ready for anything, ready to attack or defend at any moment's notice. His father's sword hung from his belt; its scabbard decorated dully. Swirls and whorls of black ink coating the brown material. The sword passed down to him when hisfFather did not come back from a raid against an Angelic envoy. Some high diplomatic mission it seemed. Many were killed. Adrian's Father included- his only immediate family left. Adrian had been told by the King the day after when the Prince's body had been found among the slaughter. Angels, his Grandfather had told him. Struck him down in his youth. Never to rise again, never to inhale the fresh air or to hear his son's laughter.

Rage simmered within the Dark Prince at the thought of the pristine, clean dressed Angels. It was their fault. And they would all pay.

"I think it's time to remind the kingdom of Solas just exactly who shares their borders. And who exactly they are at the mercy of, and who will soon be their rulers."

Smirking, the Prince would enjoy this mission. He may not take pleasure is the murder and slaughter and torture. But an attack- direct or not- on the high ranking Angels and those damn Royals he would take immense pleasure in.

A high diplomatic mission they said. That had to mean only one thing. That the higher-ranking Angels were responsible for his Father's death. And he would personally see to each and every one of their demises.

"Shall we leave a message, Majesty?" Adrian glanced towards to Guard who had spoken. "Let them know exactly what awaits them?"

Fool.

You do not speak to the King unless addressed or are their kin, such as Adrian was.

The man was dragged away without even a glance from the King. His gaze was fixed solely on Adrian as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. It may be old fashioned, but all the Royals had them, Angels and Demons alike. They did not believe in modern war fare of the human realm beyond the continent that was their home. Guns, machinery... they had no need for such things. The art of war has been fought with steel and hand to hand combat for centuries, and it would not change any time soon. Adrian's sword had a beautiful hilt. The blade itself was fine, balanced and deadly as all Hell. But the hilt, the golden handle was covered in swirls to match the scabbard, not so distracting and uncomfortable that it made a nuisance to wield. Its grip was perfect, never slipping. In the centre of the hilt was an emerald no bigger than a stream stone, fitting perfectly within the sword. It was a beauty to behold.

His King still watched his every move. Waiting for his input on the assigned mission.

Bowing deeply, the dark eyed Prince righted himself and opened his mouth to speak, a smirk plastered on his face, eyes giving nothing away, "I saw we give them Hell."

The answering smile upon the King was a thing of nightmares.

****

"Fayre, Milady. Would you please it still, your hair will fall out if I don't pin it into place properly." The maid Iris had sent into her room fussed over her. Attempting to pin the Princesses hair up into a less complex bun than the night before, but still rather tedious.

Fayre had been correct; she had woken up later than usual after a fitful sleep. This had been apparent when Iris had barged loudly into her chambers, screaming apologises for being late- hungover Iris is not a fun Iris. Fayre had simply sent her obnoxious cousin a not-so-ladylike gesture of her hand with a cheeky smile. Gasping loudly, Iris had stormed out, demanding her maids get her ready instead.