Shift, Chapter 7

FeSTiVaL!

COmE ONe! coMe aLL!

CeLebRaTe PRiNcE DYLANON’s 18Th BiRthDAy

SEE the AMAZING SIGHTS!

SpEcTaCLeS from ALL OVeR the WORLD!

24th - 26th IOJENRY. PALACE SQUARE.

***

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to get to watch the Maoniong Circus at last!” Elile burst out with a laugh.

“You're so excited anyone would have thought it was your birthday.” Dyl smiled back wryly, shaking his head.

“Well at least you got to see them last time. I was still in Arrozale if you remember?” she replied tartly, with a slight pout.

She turned to look at Dyl when he didn’t reply and noticed that he was pulling at his shirt sleeve, a habit she’d noticed he did when he was nervous.

“Everything alright?” she asked, slightly concerned. He flinched a little bit at the question and mumbled.

“Sorry what was that?” she asked again.

“Well, nothing, it’s just… I wish I didn’t have to leave!” he finished in a rush.

Elile nodded in sympathy, putting down the drink she was holding. She had been expecting this, but she had been waiting for him to say something first.

“But won’t it be nice to be back amongst your family? To see Dirdarn again?” she asked gently, lightly touching him on the shoulder.

“As far as I’m concerned I have no family in Dirdarn,” he spat vehemently, jumping to his feet.

Elile was a little taken aback. She had known that Dyl was not happy with his parents, but she had never seen him this angry before.

“I hate them! I wish I never had to return. I just want to stay here!” he shouted, smashing his glass against the wall.

Elile shrank away from him slightly, made nervous by the violence of his temper. Dyl threw himself down into a chair, his brows knitted in a dark and brooding expression. Elile shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying desperately to think of a way to break the atmosphere.

Eventually, Dyl sighed and ran one hand through his hair.

“Sorry about that,” he said, turning guiltily towards her, “I’ve been trying to get that off my chest for a long time. I didn’t mean to be so aggressive.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied with a gentle smile. “We all need to vent our emotions at some point.”

Dyl propelled himself to his feet and started to pace in an agitated fashion, his body tense, muscles sliding powerfully together with lithe, effortless grace. Elile watched him silently, noticing he was beginning to loose physical definition, as his body began to lapse into his Primary Shift. Suddenly, he snapped back into focus and turned to stride over to her chair, gripping the arms of it in his hands and leaning down over her. She glanced up at his face and at his eyes, which were blazing with emotion, seeming greener than usual from his recent Shift.

“There’s another reason,” he began, his voice rippling with a slight growl. “I think you know what I’m going to say, but I have to say it anyway.” He paused, not breaking his fixed stare, from which she dared not flinch.

“I know,” she replied softly, her voice purring in reply. She had been so focused on him that she had not noticed her own form, glancing down at her hands that were slightly curled and tapering into sharpened claw tips. With a slight laugh she refocused and Shifted back into her full human form. Looking back up at him she smiled and drew her face closer to his, until her lips brushed delicately against the edge of his.

“And can I just say,” she murmured lightly. “Me too.”

***

“Will you have your fortune read, my dear?” the harsh voice cackled in her ear. Elile turned to see a short, brightly-spangled woman, clutching at her elbow.

“I’m sorry but I’m in a bit of a hurry,” Elile replied, edging away.

The woman froze, her yellowing eyes wide and staring and she began to chant, her mouth wide and distorted,

“Beware, my dear, I see a cloud rise dark,
And thick around your eyes. You see the mark!
It passes close, so close, but none shall hear,
But She, the one whom all that lives must fear"

“Sorry, but I really have to be going,” Elile insisted, pulling her elbow out of the woman’s grasp.

“Take this, my dear. Take it!” she screamed, her hair flying out wildly, her clawed hand offering a card. Elile reluctantly took the slick, shiney thing and started to walk away.

“Beware! And mark that card!” the woman screamed after her, as Elile disappeared amongst the crowd.

***

Fortune Teller’s Tags: Truth or Fiction? Item 3.14.1

***

“Enter.”

Elile slid through the heavy wooden door into her father’s study and padded softly across the carpet.

“Ah! My dear Elile, what can I do for you?” Penry exclaimed exuberantly, carefully placing his pen beside a piece of parchment, still glistening with ink.

“I have something I want to talk to you about. It perhaps would be better if Mother was here as well,” she replied, regarding her father slightly nervously.

“Ah! In that case I think I know what this is about.” Penry leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and regarding her with a contemplative look. “It is about that young man of yours?”

“Yes, Father,” she replied, blushing and not quite meeting his eye.

“Well, what is there to say? I am certain that your mother and I would both agree that it would make a most fitting match.”

Elile’s eyes widened in surprise, not quite believing what she was hearing.

“So you don’t object?” she replied, her tone betraying her astonishment.

“No, of couse not, my child. I feel almost hurt that you would suspect otherwise of me.” He inclined his head and winked, making her feel even more uncomfortable than before.

“What about my Aunt and Uncle? Do you think they will feel the same?” she asked hastily, to fill the awkward silence.

“Ah! Here I feel we hit upon a little snag. I find it highly unlikely, need I say extremely improbable, that they would allow any such union. But don’t you worry about those details! I’ll send word to Vinthia myself. I’m sure it will all work out for the best.” He smiled at his daughter, who was still giving him a slightly disbelieving look.

“Thank you!” she eventually stammered. “I’ll tell Dyl what you said. Maybe if he spoke to his parents…”

“No,” he interrupted her curtly, with a sharp gesture. “It is in my hands now. You must promise you’ll leave it to me.”

Slightly taken aback by this change in tone, Elile just nodded mutely, scared of provoking another change in her father.

“Good. Then we are agreed,” he said pleasantly and picked his pen back up. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No. No, that’s all,” she replied hastily and with a quick curtsy, turned and slid quickly from the room.

The smile fading from his face, Penry clicked his fingers. Klint materialised from the shadows.

"Have this delivered to my sister,” he said, folding up the now-dry parchment and handing it across to the man.

With a bow, the man silently slid back into the shadows and was gone.

***

Dearest Vinthia,

I require your presence here in Silvetera as a matter of utmost urgency. I expect to see you before dawn.

Penry.

***

“I have other children- and who am I to stand in the way of such a touching example of young love?”

Vinthia raised her eyebrows in astonishment and for a moment was totally nonplussed. Of all the reactions she might have predicted from her brother, this one was the least probable.

“But you do realise that whoever marries our son will have to be the Queen of Arrozale? We have no other children and Dylanon is our only heir.”

“Yes, I do. I most clearly realise that, sister. But think- I have half a dozen children, including some very reliable ones, who will make most excellent Kings or Queens.” Penry was sitting back in his chair, with an air of relaxed ease.

Vinthia shifted uncomfortably, giving her brother a very narrow look. She didn’t know what he was thinking and this worried her more than anything else.

“But consider, brother,” she began after a pause, “They are close cousins- it is highly unusual for such marriages to occur in these days. What will the public think of it?”

“Oh, I don’t think we need to worry about the public, do you?” Penry replied in an indifferent tone, waving his hand dismissively. “They love this kind of romantic thing. They also look very aesthetically pleasing together, don’t you think?”

“But what about their children? If their totems are too close, doesn’t it risk a chance of, well, you know…” Vinthia trailed off, not wanting to finish the statement.

“I assume, dear Vinthia, that you are alluding to Werserkism?” Penry queried softly, his face an impassive mask.

“Well it is a risk,” she replied hastily, her voice sounding a little bit hysterical, even to her own ears. “You know there’s evidence that marriages between close totems risks genetic difficulties in Shifting capabilities.”

“Well, well. I’d never thought you’d be one of the Anti-Serkist movement,” he whispered, with a small tight smile. “Klint. Would you be so good as to step forward please.”

Out of the darkness of the back of the room, a shadow moved and solidified until a tall, muscular man stepped up to the King’s side.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied in rumbling voice, that resonated around the room.

“Have you met Klint, sister?” Penry asked lightly, gesturing to the man bristling by his side.

Vinthia froze where she was, eyeing the Guard warily. She had heard that Penry employed some in his army, but that didn’t make her feel any less uncomfortable.

“No? Well, let me introduce you,” Penry continued when it became clear Vinthia wasn’t going to reply. “Klint, this is my favourite sister, Queen Vinthia of Arrozale.” He paused, noticing her flinch at his choice of words. “Dear Vinthia, this is Klint, Leader of the Shadow Guard of Silvetera and as you so delicately put it, a, what was it? A ‘genetic difficulty’ I believe, although maybe a ‘risk’ is more appropriate.”

Vinthia sat completely still, not at all reassured by having her fears confirmed. Her eyes were fixed on those of the Shadow Guard, whose face was blank and masklike.

“It is a great honour to be introduced to you, Your Highness,” Klint boomed in his deep, husky voice, drawing one of his massive arms across his chest and bowing down before her. Vinthia barely managed to suppress her flinch backwards.

“It is a pleasure for me to meet any person worthy of an introduction from my brother,” Vinthia blurted out the standard reply.

“Excellent! Excellent!” Penry replied, sitting up and clasping his hands together in a show of delight. “Well, if you have any further objections you’d like to raise, now would be the time, sister. I am sure that Klint would be more than happy to oblige you with an answer to any questions you may have on the subject of, shall we say, his condition.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” Vinthia added abruptly, cautiously eyeing the Guard still. “It would be a great honour to both Kingdoms to reaffirm the close bond between our nations. I can see no genuine objection to the marriage.”

“I’m sure our children will be most delighted by the news. Your son, in particular, I know would be most disappointed to hear of your disapproval. I earnestly hope that he does not get to hear of it.”

Vinthia paused and looked directly at Penry, uncomfortably aware of the fact that she was probably not fully understanding the implication of this statement.

“No, maybe not. But perhaps it would be wise to make sure they are both certain that this is what they want? They are both still young and if this proved to be a passing fancy, then it could prove most disastrous. Remember when Falos became heir to the throne of Arrozale? All the trouble that that caused, especially…”

“If you really so wish, sister,“ said Penry, cutting her off. “I will speak to both of them. But I doubt this will change their minds. To me, they seemed to be the most determined young people I ever saw.”

***

The Merchant Rebellion of 4245: A Study of Sibling Bonds.

It has often been observed that the importance of Kinship bonds was of paramount importance during the Merchant Rebellion. However, what is very often left unsaid, is that this trend still shows true in Silveteran social culture to this day. One of the most striking examples of this comes from the original Monarchal Charter, the exact wording of which is still maintained to this day. It varies greatly from the original Charter that was upheld during the Arrozalan occupation and even now Silvetera operates under a notably different system to that of Arrozale. The most key difference to the topic of this essay is the favouring of the sibling bond relationship above that of the parent to the child. In this way, the siblings of the Monarchal Duo take precedence as an heir over that of their children. Indeed, when the Charter was originally written it was assumed that Silvetera would not be ruled by a Monarchal Duo united by marriage, but rather a sibling blood-bond pair. This has caused some difficulties in the interpretation of the inheritance laws, with a small adendum to the Charter that discounts the siblings of a King or Queen who has taken their throne through marriage, rather than blood relation...

From: The Merchant Rebellion: A Critical Reader.

***

“I’m sorry boy,” Penry said to Dyl, his voice modulating to accommodate a rare touch of sympathy.

“But why? I don’t understand why they are so opposed!”

“Well, you see, they seem to think it morally wrong,” Penry paused as he observed a slightly guilty expression cross Dyl’s face. “But I think they are more concerned for the future of their Kingdom. They have to think about these things you know.”

Dyl didn’t miss the patronising touch in the statement, but remained quiet.

“They are not entirely unreasonable. They offer you two choices: Remain their son, and the future King. Or Marry the girl and renounce your place.”

Dyl gave him a sideways look, unsure whether the irony was intentional.

“I take the second option,” Dyl replied quietly, pulling himself to his feet, so that his frame loomed over the King.

“Well I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but I can’t let you do that,” the King interjected smoothly. “You see, there is the fact of my own consent. And while I am more than happy for my daughter to marry a Prince, I’m afraid I would have to prevent any union between an untitled, unemployed drifter and a child of mine.”

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, sitting back down heavily, his tone resigned.

“Not with things the way that they are I'm afraid. But I could help by breaking the news to my daughter, if you would you prefer?”

“No, I would rather tell her in my own way, if you don’t mind,” Dyl replied, slowly rising to his feet.

***

Dearest Lile,

By the time you will have read this, I will already have returned my parent’s verdict to you.

I will not dwell on this anymore than to say that I love you and to ask you to meet me tonight at midnight. Today is my last official day as a guest of your parents and at the turn of the clock I am officially free.

I will be by the exposed passageway in the North Quad Cellar, our last and most recent Secret Room.

All my love,

Dyl

***

“That passage must run parallel with the outer strut of the Palace Wall,” Elile called back to Dyl, who was lagging slightly behind, investigating a drainage grate.

“I think you’re right. But you’d never know it was there unless you were looking for it,” he replied, straightening up from where he’d stooped over the grill.

“Do you know where this alley is?” she asked, looking apprehensively up at the towering black walls.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think we’re out in the main city yet. It looks like part of a disused barbican.”

“It does look like that,” she replied musingly, running her hand across the roughened stone. “I’m glad we’ve found such an exciting old piece of the Palace. It’s much more fitting for our final adventure than that time we found ourselves in part of the laundry shute.”

“Don’t say that,” he replied sharply, turning away from her.

“Say what?” she asked, genuinely surprised at his response.

“Say that it’s our last adventure. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again.” As he said this, he kicked a chip of loose stone, which cracked into several pieces as it hit the wall.

“I think it has to be, don’t you?” she replied in a sad, but resigned tone.

“No. No it doesn’t!” he snapped back. “Come away with me! We can go anywhere- leave all this behind us.”

Elile blinked and looked away, her head down. Glancing back again she saw the disappointment emanating from his expression, washing over her with guilt.

“I just can‘t…” she began, before trailing off into silence. Total silence.

“You don’t…” Dyl began, but she cut him off with a gesture. She quickly scoped the grounds, Shifting her ears to try and pick up a trace.

“Do you feel that?” she whispered softly to him, still looking around them. Dyl looked confused for a moment, his mind still focused on their conversation, until gradually he felt it begin to seep into his mind.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Elile continued, her voice even more hushed than before. “It’s so quiet. Too quiet.”

He didn’t like to admit it, but she was right. He knew they would have to return to the safety of the Palace, but he had so much he so desperately still wanted to say to her.

“Come on, quick, we’d better head back,” he said eventually, his tone resigned.

“You don’t think its her do you?” Elile replied, a tremble entering her voice.

“She is a fairy-tale told to scare children at festivals. But still…” Dyl glanced up the blackened walls that leaned imposingly over the alley, “I think it’s time to leave.”

“I think it’s already too late,” she replied softly.

Dyl turned sharply to look more closely at her, where she stood, fixed immovably as before. Something was making his senses tingle, something he desperately did not want to consciously admit. In the corner of his eye he caught sight of a pipe, from which water was oozing down its length and sliding onto the stone floor with a repetitive slapping noise. With each drop the sound hit his senses, driving his attention forcibly to only one conclusion.

He could hear it.

“Lile!” he called out as he leapt forward to catch her crumpling form.

“Dyl?” she whispered, her eyes meeting his. Her knees buckled and Dyl was forcibly dragged down by her weight as she collapsed fully.

“Lile, what is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice desperate.

“I…” she began, her voice barely audible. Still looking at him, she smiled, sinking backwards with a sigh as her eyelids fluttered closed.

“Lile?” he shook her gently, her body rolling loosely in his arms.

“Lile?” he cried, his voice breaking, pulling her closer to him, rocking her in his arms.

Collapsing suddenly backwards, he lay beside her tangled form, covered his eyes with his hands and screamed. Drawing his hands down over his scalp, he froze where he was, his eyes staring straight up, refusing to see, refusing to think.

And as he lay there, a small red jewel glistened, welling from one corner of Elile’s eye, and streaked down her cheek, tracing a red track against the whitening skin.