All Right Reserved

∞ | Chapter 1 - Plans | ∞

Medic's Center, Vonsworth

Adrastea grimaced as she gently tugged the shards of glass out of the man's arm and more blood welled up from the wound.

"Y'know, you're a lot better than the other medic just south from here." The man commented, his dark eyes watching her, the Valiant band on his right arm was pushed up due to the wound.

Adrastea always thought that the band showing the civilians that whoever the wearer was, was a Valiant was tacky as hell. It was a garish bright red with gold stitching of the city's emblems.

She eyed him and his partner carefully, not wanting her back to be facing them. You could never trust Affluents or anyone influential in Vonsworth and that included the Valiant.

"You're a lot prettier too," the man leered and Adrastea forced back a disgusted expression and averted her eyes. "Make sure you let the wound heal before engaging in anything dangerous," she instructed and began sewing up the torn flesh.

Adrastea could have been kinder and given him some form of anaesthetic but she had seen him bullying a few Medials and abusing some Destitutes a few days ago in town. Hence, he would - and should - be feeling the pain of the needle piercing his flesh over and over again.

"Bitch, isn't there some form of pain reliever?" The man snarled and his partner ignored his comrade as he studied the office they were in.

"No," she lied. "I've used it all just before you came in."

The man growled and slammed his uninjured arm onto the table. "Well make it quick!"

Briefly, Adrastea wondered what the two men would do to her if they realised she had an abundance of pain relievers just on the shelf behind her. They certainly wouldn't recognise the glass jars it was in.

"I'll try my best. But it is important you do not move or else the wound will get infected," she said calmly and placed the needle through a flame.

"Fuck."

She thought she could hear the man curse under his breath.

Coward, she hissed inwardly and bit back a wicked smile as she began to prep for the closing of the wound.

Later, after much cursing and threats, it was done and the man was slowly putting on his armour back on. She wished that they could hurry and leave. She didn't like to be around Affluents or Valiants for too long. One never knew what could happen.

"Won't you give me a kiss?" The man leered lustfully and used his uninjured hand to pull her closer to him.

"Sir, let go of me," she hissed and began struggling.

"Why would I do that darling? I should be giving you something in return. So how about a kiss?" His arms were snaked around her waist and she was struggling with all her might to get away from him but to no avail. She simply wasn't strong enough.

Her eyes darted around the room. The other Valiant was watching the spectacle with a bored expression on his face. Desperate, Adrastea reached for the surgical knife not far from her reach and slashed it across the man's face.

Immediately, his hands cradled the wound on his cheek and his eyes flashed furiously towards her. "You'll pay for that!"

Adrastea kept silent but tightened her grip on the knife as her eyes darted towards the two Valiant in her office. "Leave. Or I'll do worse than slicing your face," she said quietly.

The man scoffed, his partner watching the altercation with amusement on his rough and weathered features. "I'll be back, and when that happens, you'll wish for death," he spat and both of the men left.

Adrastea remained where she was, her hold on the knife never slipping until she could see that the two Valiants were walking down the streets away from her medical office.

When she was sure they were gone, Adrastea let the knife slip away from her hands and staggered against the wall to catch her breath and to get her wits back. Feeling the ache on her wrist and her hips, she knew that there was going to be bruises that would hurt. Quickly, she washed her hands to get the feel of the man off her hands.

She went back to her private office and locked the door. There in front of the small mirror, she untucked the hem of her blouse from her skirts and examined the greenish fat finger shaped bruises marring her pale skin. She studied them and gently traced them lightly with her fingertips.

Adrastea winced a little and paused before lifting her blouse higher just below her breasts to see the inked script on her ribs. 'I would like to see that happen' 

The script was rough but elegant in its own way. She couldn't help but notice that the handwriting spoke of arrogance and condescension. Obviously, that spoke of her soul mate being an Affluent. One that would obviously not accept her for her status despite her having some Affluent blood.

She was a Medial which meant that she had both Affluent and Destitute heritage. Of course, she was only tolerated but not always welcomed unless her skills of being a medic were needed.

It didn't even matter that her father was from the Bones family. The Bones Family were one of the most influential Affluents in Vonsworth until her father married a Destitute - her mother. Immediately, the Bones family was stripped off its name and titles along with the power and money they had the moment society found out.

Her mother was burnt alive and her family was slaughtered. As far as Adrastea knew, she was the only surviving member of the Bones family. Her older brother had died as well when she was two. The very same day Adrastea became an orphan.

Her eyes traced the elegant script and a bitter smile crossed her face. Soul mate or not, she didn't have the time nor the need for one. She was fine dealing and defending on her own. She didn't need anyone.

She tugged her blouse lower so the words couldn't be seen and applied some soothing cream over the bruises before tucking her blouse back into her skirt before making her way back to the main office.

She certainly had too little time.

"Miss!" She looked up and smiled at the sight of the friendly man from down the street.

"How may I help you?" she greeted warmly and the baker's son grinned bashfully. "I've brought some bread for you. I didn't have the money to pay you for helping my mother with her illness last week."

"You didn't have to," she smiled as she accepted the basket of bread and the young man flushed. "Of course, but I also brought news."

"News?" she echoed and the baker nodded. "Yes! News from Deserra!"

"Oh?" Adrastea questioned, her eyes lighting up from interest. She turned away and gently placed the basket of baked goods on the desk where her files lay.

The man nodded eagerly, "Yes. The rebellion has won. Deserra has been captured and Skarp Fort has been overtaken! I've heard that the Valiant has been defeated so easily that it was not much an effort for the rebellion!"

Adrastea smiled, "That is intriguing news. What of Regnant Draven and the people?"

He shrugged, his left hand reaching up to scratch his head. "I have no idea. But I have heard rumours that Regnant Draven has been captured. Dead or alive? Nobody knows."

"Really?" Her back facing the baker's son, Adrastea allowed a small smile to creep onto her face.

"I've also heard that the rebellion will be here next! After all, Vonsworth is only a week away from Deserra. And heaven only knows how much we all need a change," the baker trudged on, completely oblivious to the fact that Adrastea wasn't really paying much attention now.

"Indeed we do," Adrastea said, her eyes lingering on the surgical knife that she had dropped earlier.

* * *

Skarp Fort, Deserra

"I hope there is an actual reason why you called, no - demanded, for me to come all the way here." Medeia didn't bother greeting the round obtuse man in front of her.

"Of course there is!" Draven huffed, aggravated as he fitted himself into the large throne-like chair and gestured for a servant to serve the wine.

"There is a rebellion," Draven spat as he slammed his fist against the table, his voice was full of disgust and loathing. She eyed him carelessly, her raven-haired locks fell past her face as she shifted in her seat impatiently. Coming here all the way from Vallisrem was clearly a waste of time.

Like the Regnant in front of her and his equally revolting land.

"There will always be rebellions," she replied coolly and gave a subtle curt nod to her Chief Astute, Gravrs to leave, along with the servant. "I suggest that we discuss about more substantial things, if not I have travelled all the way here for pointless chitchat."

Draven scowled, the thickness of his eyebrow were so furrowed that they almost resembled a unibrow. "The Valiant has claimed that this rebellion is even stronger and are armed with weapons similar to ours."

"The point?" she asked sharply, her blue eyes flashing dangerously and immediately Draven knew that he had overstepped a boundary.

Cautious, he lightened his tone and straightened his back, "I'm concerned," he paused dramatically and the narrowing of blue eyes aimed in his direction made him continue with haste. "The Destitutes are not happy and now there is almost an army full of them waiting to skin us alive. How are you not worried?"

Medeia stared at him passively before standing up and turning away, "You are a Regnant are you not? You should solve your own problems. Perhaps if you actually had order in your city, nothing would happen."

Draven clenched his jaw, he hated that the other four Regnants constantly looked down on him. He knew that they saw him as a pathetic being, incapable of having order in his city. He could feel their judging stares as if he represented dirt in the streets or as if he had the blood of a Destitute.

He was Draven Richter! His ancestors were all Regnants and held the high status of being an Affluent for centuries. Furthermore, he was the oldest among the rest of the Regnants and hence, he should he respected! Or even better - revered among them! Instead? He was greeted with sly cutting remarks and condescending sneers.

"Fine," he snarled, losing his temper. "I'll solve the damn problem myself!"

"Great. You're finally doing something right," Medeia replied lightly with mock cheer as she surveyed her surroundings with barely concealed disgust.

Her fellow Regnant growled in fury before slamming both his hands face down onto the wooden desk. "Goddamnit! Are you not going to provide support?"

Medeia turned her attention back to him from her view of a portrait of Draven's predecessor before tilting her head to the left as she set her piercing eyes on him.

"I believe you want me to send my men to help you?"

"Yes!"

She pondered over it for a moment before shooting his plea for help down. "No, I need my Valiant to remain at Castle Inanis. I believe you are on your own. Perhaps you could ask Circe or Vlad for help."

Draven resisted the urge to leap across the desk and wrap his meaty hands around Medeia's pale slender neck and squeeze the life out of her. But the fact that she had more influence than him and that her guards were just outside prevented him from doing so.

"Get the fuck out!" he roared and gestured heavily at the door. Medeia smirked and slightly inclined her head as she left. Shutting the door firmly behind her, she was met with her loyal advisor waiting for her along with her guards.

"If I may speak?" Gravrs prompted and she nodded with permission, "You may." They began walking down the empty hallway and Medeia's eight guards were at a fair distance behind her so that they couldn't overhear the conversation.

"If what Regnant Draven said is true, Skarp Fort would never make it and Deserra would be forfeited to the rebellion," Gravrs said quietly.

Medeia didn't bother asking how Gravrs could know everything about the meeting with Regnant Draven even though he wasn't in the room.

She shrugged her shoulders elegantly before replying nonchalantly, "So be it." She clasped her hands together and positioned them at her abdomen. "Deserra is clearly a wasteland and the lost of it would boost the morale of the rebellion and hence, they would underestimate us when they try to go further."

Gravrs nodded, his head still bowed. "If I may be so bold, that would be a rather risky strategy as many Affluents would be affected. It has been centuries and the Destitutes would seek revenge."Medeia smirked and tilted her head, "It is none of my concern if anyone dies, I can hardly burden myself with the problems of the people. It is Draven's problem and he is getting on my nerves. It is best for the rest of us if he is gone. Do you not agree?"

"Of course."

Medeia smirked and gazed at the portraits of the past Regnants of Deserra hanging on the walls. Whoever thought that the Richter family should rule was a fool and ought to be shot, she mused.

"Regnant, with your permission, may I inquire about the solutions to the current rebellions back home?"

Medeia barely spared him a glance as she took in her repulsive surroundings. "Families of those involved in the rebellion are to be captured and burned alive. The men involved will have to watch as their loved ones die screaming in pain. After all, we need to make an example that such little incidents are not tolerated."

As an after thought, she added, "But make sure the burnings are done before we get back. I find that the smell of burnt human flesh doesn't quite agree with me."

Gravrs nodded as he mentally took note of sending a messenger down as soon as possible. It wouldn't be wise to not follow Regnant Medeia's wishes.Medeia allowed her smirk to widen as she strolled further down the hallway of Skarp Fort.

* * *

Rebellion Lands

"When do we start moving?"

Rhydderch Thomas studied the map before tapping at the castle representing Skarp Fort. "Two days." Jarek frowned sceptically. "Do you even think we are ready?"

He watched as the man gave him a dismissive glance, "Of course. We've prepared for this our entire lives. Haven't we?"

Jarek shifted his jaw before gesturing towards the map, "Why don't we target Vonsworth first? We might have allies there. There has been reports from our spies that members of Affluent families are disappearing every month."

It had always pained him to mention the city of Vonsworth but Jarek managed. It hadn't been easy but, he had finally managed to not sink into despair every time that city was mentioned.

Rhydderch cocked an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but shook his head, "No. Deserra's defences are weaker and it would be easier for our men to take it first."

Jarek watched apprehensively as Rhydderch leant back in his chair and fiddled with the sharp edges of the blade of the dagger in his hand. "Do you doubt our sources?" He questioned nonchalantly as he stared Jarek down.

Jarek cleared his throat as he avoided Rhydderch's piercing stare. "Men can be bought off. That's not exactly a secret," he said quietly. It was far from being a secret, it was practically the truth. Money was always a motivation. That was something Jarek had seen and experienced for years.

He wasn't so sure what the raven haired man would do if he objected to his plan. Hence, he chose to remain silent. Yes, he may be part of the inner circle of the rebellion but that didn't mean Jarek was fully comfortable to be himself around Rhydderch.

Jarek often thought that Rhydderch Thomas, the rebellion leader was someone you had to be careful with. Sure, the man was charismatic and a born leader, but, there was something about him that made Jarek wary of him.

Rhydderch ignored him, he was bored of the conversation already. His sources were accurate and nothing was to go wrong. He knew that Jarek was uncomfortable with the very mention of Vonsworth due to the feelings past events had brought up for him.

Feelings. How pathetic, Rhydderch mused. But he didn't care, Jarek would have to get over it.

Instead of bothering to continue the conversation, his eyes drifted to the other printed image on the map which represented Vonsworth and the fourth castle, Murstein Keep.

"Tell me about the disappearances in Vonsworth," he ordered, and Jarek tensed. He hated thinking about Vonsworth. The place would always hold bad memories for him and he couldn't help but rub at the words on the left side of his neck.

Jarek knew the words marked there by heart. 'You dropped this'

He quickly straightened his posture, hands clasped behind his back as Rhydderch stared straight through him with a knowing glint in his dark blue eyes.

"There has been whispers that Affluents are vanishing monthly. No one has a clue whats going on but there is unrest in the city, Regnant Mabuz is being questioned daily by the Affluents there," he said tonelessly while averting his eyes away from the imposing figure opposite him.

Rhydderch drummed his fingers on the table, deep in thought. "Send the twins there. Tell them to leave immediately and try to figure out who is behind the disappearances. Whoever is behind it could be a potential enemy instead of an ally."

Jarek visibly relaxed and left the room. He had no idea what he would do or how he would react if Rhydderch had sent him there instead of the Tchovosky twins.

Perhaps, Vonsworth was always going to be a place that held nothing but nightmares for him, Jarek shut his eyes and felt the slight aching grief swell up in him. He quickly composed himself and stalked off, it wouldn't do him any good if people saw that he was weak.

Back in the room and still tracing the blade gently with his finger, Rhydderch's eyes moved to the leather band he wore on his left forearm and paused. He shifted the leather to one side with the sharp end of the dagger and took in the sight of the black script.

'One wrong move and you'll be next on this table'

A scoff formed on his features and he traced the neat feminine lettering with the tip of his dagger. Whoever his soul mate was, was clearly an Affluent. No Destitute had the education to have such neat and elegant handwriting.

The day he met her, he would tell her to burn in hell.

He had no such longing to meet his soul mate. They made you weak and frankly, seeing the state of Darius and Sera, he had no intention of being with his. Rhydderch was just thankful that an individual didn't have to be with their soul mate. You wouldn't die without them, you could be friends or enemies or be simply indifferent.

Rhydderch preferred his to be nonexistent or perhaps dead.

He had no time for a needy, helpless woman who required to be treated like a lady. He'd rather be left alone and he certainly didn't want to answer to anyone.

To be honest with himself, Rhydderch couldn't think of actually caring for someone other than himself. Self-preservation was the most important to him. He couldn't wrap the idea of putting someone's needs before your own. It was an utter foreign concept to him.

"Rhydderch?"

He looked up to see Valia enter cautiously. He liked that he could make people be wary of him without even doing much, it was a gift that not everyone had and Rhydderch took much pleasure from it. 

"Yes?" he drawled lightly and tensed when he saw that her green eyes were fixed on the exposed soul mate mark on his forearm.

He narrowed his eyes and shifted the leather band over his arm to cover the mark. 

The blonde was followed in by her older brother Vyctor and they stood in front of him. "Jarek has said that we were to go to Vonsworth? Does this mean we would not be around in Deserra then?"

Rhydderch got to his feet and nodded, "Yes. The Valiant in Deserra are ridiculously pathetic and are not trained well. Hasn't Jarek told you why the both of you are to go to Vonsworth?" he questioned lazily, his blue eyes flicking up to stare down Valia who was looking at him awkwardly and warily.

"No, he hasn't. You know how Jarek gets when Vonsworth is mentioned."

People and their messy emotions. Inwardly, Rhydderch scowled, he hated when people were ruled by their emotions and hence didn't do things asked of them.

"I'm aware," he acknowledged. "After capturing Deserra, we'll be going to Vonsworth next. There are mysterious cases of Affluent members disappearing, never to be seen or heard of again. Isn't that curious?" he drawled.

To his wry amusement, satisfied expressions were in the twin's eyes and a mocking sinister sneer was twisted on Vyctor's features. "Good and very-"

"-well deserved," Valia finished, a vindictive smug grin forming on her lips.

Rhydderch nodded, "Leave as soon as possible and inform me daily on what the situation is like there. If it is anything like Deserra, it is already a victory."

"It is a shame that no one ever thought of forming an army full of dissatisfied people to overthrow the reigning Regnants in the past," Vyctor commented and Rhydderch shrugged.

"Does it really matter?" Rhydderch questioned rhetorically over his shoulder and exited the room.

* * *

A/N: Hello! Here is the very first chapter! I'm quite pleased to see your thoughts and feelings regarding this new project of mine! It is new waters I'm definitely wading in and I'm really glad that you guys are supporting me and are accompanying me on this journey! 

Also, I know some of you are confused and because of that, I will be posting a new section called 'Index' that lists the unfamiliar terms to you all and hopefully make things much clearer! It would be positioned before the Prologue!

Anyway, regarding this first chapter, let me know your thoughts on the characters, the plots, guesses you guys have? Anything! Give me a vote and a comment and if you have any questions, shoot! I'll be most pleased to answer them! 

Thank you so much and have a lovely January 1 of 2017! Shit, I'm getting old :")

P.S. This is dedicated @LondonThyra17 for her earlier comment! :)