The act of running away, for someone who fears little, is rather foolish. There is a strength in standing firm. It signifies confidence, bravery, and intimidation. Within that one second, that one turn, one step away, a person gives away that power- despite its legitimacy.

Rayla knew this, yet her body turned and took that one step, then another and another- without stop. There was no danger. No trouble. The reason was petty. Her mind was made the moment the figure appeared before her.

A fragment of the looming sun revealed what hid below the dark oaked cloak- the eyes of a loathed man, King Civon.

The arrival was no coincidence. He was there for one thing- to settle the Emperor's request. Not on personal volition, of course. There had been twenty-two years for that. No. There was a task at hand. Rayla knew peace would not resume until King Civon received absolution. If he meant to apologize, she would not give him the satisfaction to do so. She had lied to Sir Rowland. Nothing from this man's mouth could sway her, not even if he begged. Though, the thought entertained her mind.

However, several days had passed since Sir Rowlands' arrival. If the King was here, Emperor Azrykis was growing impatient. Their requests would soon be irrelevant. Even a foolish jester knew better than to stall a royal demand. Despite what the sisters wanted, leniency might have to be given—sooner rather than later.

This was their final stand. If cooperation was their conclusion, Rayla would make it unbearable for King Civon. It was all she could do- all she wanted to do.

So she turned and ran toward the evening market through the chromis-colored streets.

As expected, it was swarming. Twirling frocks and brilliant robes were already ready to carouse despite being an hour too soon. Vendors shooed their premature customers as they unloaded dozens of crafts, favors, and iced edibles.

Despite Rayla's sorrys and pardons, the populace paid her no mind and made no effort to move aside. Traversing through what was now hundreds of gathered spectators would be impossible. King Civon would catch her in a trice. It worried her not. Why run?

"Aoratos." She mumbled and rested her radiant hand on her chest. If she was the lure then King Civon was the bait. He had followed her into the busiest parts of town, and now, with a single word breathed- she had disappeared entirely. A mischievous spell that was usually used for such. But it would not last long. Rayla needed to return home quickly and forewarn her sisters.

~

Heart still pounding, she found the worn door to their place among many other flats of equal proportions.

Rayla snapped the door shut, locking the metal knob. Her body collapsed against it, enervated. The room lay still within its own shadow.

"Anavo."

The fireplace crackled awake, spreading its mellow glow throughout.

Two knocks vibrated the door. Rayla's eyes flung open.

"Rayla?" The voice called out. "I know you are in there. Your spell did not fool me. All I had to do was ask a local for your address. Everyone is so nice here."

"This is our house. If you wish to talk, wait outside our shop until it reopens tomorrow morning."

"Would you make a King wait?"

"Yes. If you must speak, speak through the door."

"You will deny me entry? Surely not. Your King?"

"I know our King's voice. Nor would he visit here."

"Has it occurred to you that perhaps I have brought urgent news?"

"I highly doubt that." Rayla was tired of this pointless bickering.

"Well, it is true. Vazrandin is in danger, and the Emperor must know how our alliance stands. Please. I understand you may feel only resentment and unease. If that is how our relation should remain, it will be accepted and respected. Just allow me to relay the message. There is little time.

Rayla made no response.

"If I must discuss things from beyond the door, I will, though, for the people's sake, I'd rather not."

Rayla's eyes rolled, and her mouth produced a heavy sigh. Click. She unlocked the door and swung it open, annoyed at the innocence of his words- that should not matter to her.

"King Civon." She sank slowly to the floor in a curtsy. "If I had known it was you, I would not have ran."

The man tossed down his hood, uncovering a bush of long braided black hair and familiar green eyes—the King of Deep Rock. There was a small laugh behind his breath.

"I doubt that."

"You see, I had just finished my studies and was on my way home. I saw a stranger approach, and my instincts told me to leave. I was not expecting- you." Her tongue painted a tale.

"Your fault entirely. You did ask for my apology in person—a rather untimely request, but much overdue nonetheless. Please, rise. Let us not make any more of a scene. There is much to discuss."

He offered a hand that was not taken. Rayla rose on her own.

"Then confess away. The sooner you do, the sooner I can return to my daily tasks."

"You do recall there is a matter of the utmost importance that must be discussed. I am sure my guard mentioned it. Or did he forget to even speak to you after traveling all this way?"

"No, Your Majesty." The words were heard as clearly as they were ignored.

Sir Rowland joined him at his side.

"Sorry, my lord. I was delayed. I took care of it, however."

"Good."

Rayla eyed the guard, who stared proudly back at her behind his iron helmet- behind the King of Deep Rock. Margrave had been a fine distraction- pointless as it ended up being. Hopefully, he hadn't taken a beating for it.

"It is for that reason I am confused." King Civon continued. "Do you or do you not serve Vazrandin?"

"We do, your highness." Multiple times, they had tried to become citizens of Fiore—a secret only the sisters shared. Unfortunately, the Fiorian Empire did not allow citizens without Emperor Azrykis's approval—which they neither had nor would receive. They were Vazrandin's mages first and foremost. Leaving freely wasn't an option.

There was the option of being transported illegally, but it was overpriced and dangerous.

Many of the unwanted people settled along the outskirts of Redbrook, hoping to escape into the Fiorian Empire when the moment was right. Those who were caught were strung up, swaying lifelessly along the border.

Occasionally, the scent of rotting meat drifts through the streets of Redbrook. It served as a foul reminder that some demons were humans who breathed the same air but with a grin.

"Would it not be in its best interest to serve the empire when danger threatens?" Rayla's mind jumped back to the conversation at hand.

"Danger? I assure you, I was not made aware of any danger. The urgency was expressed, but the reason for it was not."

King Civon looked around.

"I would like to discuss further details in private. May I come in?"

"I'd rather you not." Rayla crossed her arms.

"Ah, then I shall invite myself in." The King pushed through the doorway without permission. He then sat down at their table. He drummed his fingers against the wooden top lightly. She saw his eyes slowly glance over the tiny hobble of a room she and her sisters considered home. It wasn't much- few beds and a working area right in the heart of Redbrook. It took them years to get this far, but they were proud.

"Please, sit." He gestured to the chair across from him—their chair. Rayla's mouth twitched. His guard took her shoulder and pushed her in, closing the door behind them. How dare he come into her home and tell her what to do, title or not.

"Need I remind you that you are a mage of the Empire? You must do what the Emperor commands, as does everyone else."

"I am well aware of that."

"Good. Then the Emperor demands that you absolve me from any grudges you may still hold."

Rayla laughed sharply.

"Grudges?"

"Yes. It is my request as well. I know our past created tensions-"

"Your majesty," she could barely spit out the words. "With all due respect, I cannot absolve you."

"But what of your sisters? Surely they might feel-"

"They would say the same. I'm sorry. We cannot do this."

King Civon shook his head.

"I have yet to meet someone foolish enough to deny a King's request- let alone an Emperor's."

"Foolish?" Her eyes darted up to his. "I assure you, it is the most rational decision I've ever made. No, foolish would be my dead mother and father putting their trust in a young and brilliant King of Deep Rock!" The words came out sharper than expected.

You cannot change the past, but you can change the future, she used to tell herself. Hating him distracts you from life's possibilities. It had been years since Rayla said those words. She had almost completely forgotten about King Civon. Why? Why was he here? Why did the Emperor care so much about their past?

"I understand you are angry, but-"

"Do you?" She stopped him. "Do you understand? If you understood, you wouldn't be here!" All of those suppressed feelings were seeping back in.

Sir Rowland gripped his sword's scabbard, but the King held out his hand.

"Rayla." He spoke her name calmly. "Please. - listen to what I have to say." His voice lowered.

Rayla had always been well-behaved. She kept up with her studies, listened well to her sisters, and respected most who came to them for help. That is how her parents taught them. It was their duty as mages to help, listen, and understand. But how could she do that now? After twenty-two years, he sat before her, begging for their cooperation but indifferent to what he did to them.

"Why should I? Don't you remember what you did? You accused my family of treason, exiled us from Deep Rock, stripped us of our title, and forced us here, a city on the brink of death! We lost- so much." She could feel her voice breaking. "And for nothing!" She slammed her fist on the table. She had to hold it together. He deserved to see her anger, but she would not let him see her tears.

His guard stepped forward, hand firmly placed on blade.

"You best watch your tone. The King has been kind in ignoring it thus far-"

"Kind?" she scoffed. Thank you, my King, for showing such kindness to me and my family. After all of these years, every night we praise thine name!" she shouted.

"How dare you. To mock my King-" Sir Rowland's hand gripped tighter on his scabbard than before.

"How dare I? How dare I?" She pointed a finger at King Civon. "He accused my family of treason without a second thought—a family that had stood by his for over ten generations. We were innocent! You know this—and yet you stand by him so steadily?"

"Enough!" King Civon's voice boomed through the tiny corridor. Its authority made her freeze. "I have ignored your distasteful tone for long enough. Raylalynn Whiteflower, you will listen to what I have to say, and that is that. Now sit." The King spoke behind clamped teeth. Rayla's anger had not quelled. She remained standing, tempted to see what the King dared to do to her for her disobedience. She wanted to irritate him, to anger him- make him feel any amount of pain without physically causing it, though she very easily could.

King Civon gave a heavy sigh.

"You might not know, but I recently acquired a new advisor. It turns out my previous one, of thirty years, had gone mad. Some say it was from the guilt of what happened to your family-" he paused, "but I believe he was that way since the start. I know that now." Civon looked up. "Typhain set up your parents. We found the evidence in an oubliette. He was there, surrounded by strange symbols, katadesmoi, and- bottles of pharmaka."

"Pharmaka." Rayla's eyes widened. It was the poison her parents were accused of using on the people of Redbrook. Typhain claimed the Whiteflowers saw people as opportunities for controlled experiments, and though this belief was true, they had never inflicted the people of Redbrook with the mysterious disease. They did, however, do whatever it took to treat it, even after they were banished there themselves, even when the daughter's parents caught it themselves, even after they passed away.

"We know now that he was the one that created the illness. For whatever reason, he refused to say. Perhaps he feared the Whiteflower name? Perhaps he was just crazy? Either way, he is gone. You will be relieved to know his sentence was equivalent to his crimes."

"I know that I, too, am equally guilty for believing his perjury against your parents and that my apology will never amend what I did, but let this be a start." He stood and took the scroll his guard now held. "I, King Civon of Deep Rock, retract the exile of the Whiteflower family. They regain the right to travel freely within Vazrandin and may settle wherever they please. Furthermore, Amira Whiteflower will be named "High Court Herbalist." He lowered the scroll. "That will allow her to travel between Empires, protected by a crown. And upon your graduation, you too, Rayla, will acquire a similar title if that is what you wish."

Rayla was speechless. It was true that he could not easily be forgiven for his mistakes, as they had caused her family much loss and pain. But, if anything, she respected his efforts.

"So if we help, you will absolve our family's exilement?"

"No. I have already done this, and the Emperor has approved it. Whether you help or not, it is already done."

Rayla sat down. An enormous weight had lifted from her shoulders. They were finally free. Their family name had been cleared. They could return home.

"I wish I could leave you with that. But, there is more."

"The urgent news." Rayla sat straight. "Tell me."

"Vazrandin will soon prepare for war. Eraos is coming."

~

Current Chapter Word Count: 2,394

Total Word Count: 8,958