DAY 46: TORTURE

On the last floor of the palace, past the cellars and a large steel door, there are attendants and doctors running frantically.

Syringes, bandages, and medicines of all kind adorn the cupboards. Wrinkled documents and medical research papers are strewn across the ground. Water splashes as scurrying nurses douse cloths and wring them. They frenziedly bark orders to others who race to finish their obligations.

      Ro is silent as he leads Leda through this hectic room. Few doctors can't afford to meet his eye as they rush by, but most do stop to perform polite bows or curtseys.

He stops when they reach the last door in their path, one made of gorgeous marble wood. His fingers wrap around the door handle then hesitate. He shuts his eyes, inhaling a deep breath. It's as if it's a ritual he engages in every time he comes down here—all to compose himself.

      "Ro," Leda says.

      "There is no point in talking," he replies. As he flutters open his eyelids, he twists the knob. "I am merely introducing you to the royal family as you've requested."

       He strides through once the doors are open, but the knot that has formed in Leda's belly causes her own sense of reluctance. She swallows it down as quickly as she can then pursues him inside.

What's waiting to greet her reels her heart to an abrupt halt.

The room has as much personality as the one outside. The floor is slate grey and the walls, white. Four large king-sized beds take up majority of the space, nurses stumbling and tending to each one. They're just as—or more so—a mess than those outside. Mainly because, in each mattress lies a member of the royal family.

They each have a ventilator as well as technology resembling IV tubes tangled around their bodies. Jagged flesh. Oozing blood. Bulged bones. That's all that remains, protruding where their skin used to be.

The shouts from the nurses have dimmed in Leda's ears, even as Ro calmly approaches the biggest mattress where the king rests. The skin from his face is just about gone, his dull hair barely clinging to his gashed scalp.

"Pathetic, isn't it?" Ro murmurs, lips pinched in sorrow. "I was convinced there was nothing that could ever defeat my father. Even during war, he was the proudest warrior—one who's been to the darkest parts of Annadia and back with a smile on his face. He is the kindest, most chivalrous and honourable man to have ever walked Edaps. And yet even he couldn't stand a chance against illness."

       Ro's fingers curl into fists tight enough for his nails to puncture his palms and draw blood. But Leda knows with every fibre of her being that he isn't wrong to feel the way he does. If she herself were to try convincing anyone that this frail man in front of her is a king, much less of the renowned warrior kingdom Edaps, she'll be instantly ridiculed. They'll laugh right in her face.

        "Prince Ronan III."

Ro wipes away all emotion and faces the nurse who's called him.

She gestures to the furthest bed on the opposite side of the room, head cast low. "The Queen... has awoken."

Shock etches its way onto his features, giving Leda the notice that it must be a rare occurrence. Not that it's already a given when he shoves past Leda and the nurse, barrelling to his mother's side in a heartbeat.

The Queen of Spades breathes faintly when Ro arrives. Her scrawny but bloody hands tremble as she reaches to take his. And in her countenance, amidst the nightmarish pain, is a tiny flicker of relief.

"Thank goodness... you're... still okay, Ronan III." Her voice is ghost-quiet. "We've left you... fending for yourself. With so much burden. I... am sorry. That we've become baggage... That we are causing you so much pain. I'm so sorry, dear..."

"There should never be a need for you to apologize, Mother!" Ro, for the first time ever, draws a ragged breath. His countenance falls to one of unbearable agony. "I am merely fulfilling my responsibilities as the prince of Edaps. You and Father... Elder Ronan and Ronan II... and my equally suffering brethren in and outside of Depree—you are all my drive. Not a burden. Not baggage. So please do not apologize, Mother."

The gentleness of her smile is a mirror of the queen she was and still is. Her shaking, though wretched arms, are ashen. And where the lights above catch them, they're subdued and grey. She struggles to lift them from his hold but it only ends up collapsing onto his lap. Ro's eyebrows dart upwards as she produces a weak laugh.

"So formal," she teases, a sole tear running down her cheek. "When did... you grow to become so much like your father?"

Right as the words leave her mouth, she grimaces, withholding a gasp of pain. Ro tenses, his surprise shifting to immediate panic. But the fever comes fast, robbing the Queen of her strength. From a once renowned ruler to a sickly lady, curled up like a newborn infant—the transformation can't have been any more cruel.

Leda steals a glance at Ro's brothers and at the king. There isn't a single sign of this sickness turning into a milder form. Their tattered skin is unbelievably grotesque and bloody, as if they're living by sheer luck and nothing more. The chills and jerks of their limbs, the moaning and groaning—it's intensifying, even as the numerous medical staff dash to and fro, tending to them with their useless remedies and even more ineffective painkillers.

It hits her again; how hopeless and vulnerable this situation is; how deathly of a toll all these people have taken. She can somewhat emphasize with why Ro's decided to lie to his citizens, even going as to treat them the way that he has.

If the people are to find out about how even the royal family has crumbled to such a state... they'll truly lose all hope to stay alive.

♥♦♣♠

Orian is waiting by the palace entrance when they finally emerge. He's accompanied by a large, unfamiliar man who's tending to an odd creature. He caresses his gloved fingers through its orange mane to which the brown creature emits a happy noise. Orian politely engages in conversation with him but the entire scene is disrupted by the palace attendants who come dashing in, loading supplies onto the cart currently attached to the straps of the creature.

        "Oh, Master, you've returned!" Orian exclaims when he notices Leda approach him. He retreats from the creature and pauses. A flicker of concern morphs his countenance as he peers over her shoulder. "Is everything..."

         "It is nothing for a Mond to worry about," Ro responds on Leda's behalf. "Are we set to go?"

         An attendant bows. "Yes, Your Highness. We've packed all the necessary supplies you might need on your journey. Enough to satisfy you as well as the rest of your comrades."

        "I assume you've readied the ship as well?"

        "Of course." The man shuffles his feet. "However..."

         Ro cocks an eyebrow at his hesitation. "However?"

         As the man rises from his bow, he keeps his gaze glued to his pointed shoes. His features warp in melancholy. "I... bring great sadness to disclose that Captain Marci and his crew have passed away last night."

         Ro's mouth caves inwards. He closes his eyes for a brief moment. "Is... that so?"

         The attendant presses his own eyelids shut in a despondent answer.

         "Send flowers and offerings to their loved ones," Ro declares. "Aid them in my absence. For readily serving my family for decades they all deserve a parting in their honour."

        "Yes, Your Highness." He bobs his head then readily excuses himself at that.

        Ro pins his focus onto the old man adjacent to Orian, currently petting the creature's long snout. "Jack Nixon, have you decided to take this burden onto yourself?"

         The man twirls around, his navy blue trench coat billowing after him. His finger is placed at his fedora to momentarily shield his face, though he soon slips it off and bends in a mannerly bow. He then rises, a wry twinkle in his sole tawny coloured eye. "As the Jack of Spades and past navy admiral of Edaps, the act of sailing you and your comrades to the Straeh Kingdom in once piece is a promise I vow to fulfill."

       Ro eyes him in an indifferent manner but it's clear he has his guard up. Leda's focus flits from Nixon's odd metallic chin up to his eye masked by his dark blue bangs. It's crystalline like glass and spade-shaped, identical to the design on his formal attire. Him admitting his past involvement in the navy is definitely something she can picture. But the most startling notion is the fact that there's a Jack of Spades in this bizarre world, too.

        "Very well," Ro says, callously, as he props his hand to his side. "Though, I do hope you understand that this journey can very well lead to the demise of the entire Edaps Kingdom, including ourselves. Since we'll be entering enemy territory, there won't be time to fool around."

        "But of course, Your Highness." Even as he speaks, Nixon's low voice contains an airy tease. "I will be on my best behaviour."

         Ro drops the conversation at that. He proceeds to declare further orders for his attendants to implement during his absence. In return, they smother him with medicine to take.

As this befalls, Leda ambles towards the animal Orian can't seem to leave alone. Its eye turns her way and it drops its head as if giving her permission to pet it. Her lips peel back as she extends her fingers to touch it, only to retreat it when she feels it purr.

         "Oh, she seems to like you, Master Leda." Orian smiles, guiding her hand back to its mane once again.

"It looks like a lion," she says, trying to rid herself of her awe. "But it's also timid like a horse." She glances at the cart. "I'm guessing it's strong, too."

"Elsohs are very strong and agile."

She traces the voice to Nixon who joins them from behind. He skillfully handles the creature in her place whereby it giddily guides its face closer to his in response. He chuckles at its inability to stifle its excitement.

"Friendly, too. They're great for carrying heavy loads and a companion if you ever need one. Since the port is quite the distance from here and we don't have the proper manpower anymore, they're our best option at carrying our belongings to the ship."

Leda hums. "How far is Straeh from Edaps anyway?"

Orian interjects before Nixon has the chance. "A couple of days by sea, at least. Straeh and Edaps are actually the closest of the four kingdoms despite not getting along one bit. Ironic, huh?"

Nixon's deep laugh resounds. "You're rather knowledgeable."

"Not at all! I'm not speaking from experience, and the books I've read are extremely outdated. I apologize if I was overstepping my boundaries."

Leda snorts. "You're too shy, Orian. Be proud that you're a walking encyclopedia."

        Despite confused at the word, he shakes his head then produces a sheepish grin. "I don't need to be proud. As long as I can be helpful to you, Master, that's all that matters. I'm happy enough with that."

        Her heart melts into a puddle. He's so precious.

       "Anyway," she coughs, "we've stalled enough time as is. The faster we get there, the better, right?"

Nixon returns a full smile. "I think you should worry more about the prince you've decided to recruit than the length of our trip. Prince Ronan III is an amazing man, don't get me wrong, but he's a lil' rough around the edges if you get what I mean—"

"Discrediting a royal prince is a huge crime, Jack Nixon."

Nixon stiffens. Ro isn't the slightest bit amused, only increasing Nixon's discomfort. Leda can only share a tiny sliver of amusement with Orian.

"Say, Ro." Leda faces him appropriately. "I've wanted to ask but, do you know anything about the whereabouts of the Northern Dragon's egg?"

        "In fact, I do. The guards confiscated it from a citizen a while ago and have it safe. But, if you are asking us to return it to Reca, at the moment that cannot be done."

          "Why not?"

           "The egg hatched not long after our confiscation, only to find that the hatchling has been infected as well." He approaches the elsoh, pointing towards its lower hind leg where tiny tuffs of its pigment are different from the rest. "Every creature raised in the Land of Edaps has been affected. I can imagine that also includes the Northern Dragon, explaining why it's been extraordinarily violent. Returning the hatchling in its current condition wouldn't be of best interest, considering the Northern Dragon may unintentionally kill it. That's why we've been keeping it under constant care along like the rest of the citizens in Depree."

"That's oddly considerate of you."

He sourly avoids her gaze. "I am merely doing what is required."

         She expels a soft chuckle. When Orian taps her shoulder, he gains her attention. Seeing the letter he's holding, she bobs her head and extends it for Ro to take.

       "My end of the deal," she says as he accepts it. "It's from a dude named Rhett. Not sure if you've heard of him or not—"

"Necromancer Rhett? From the Deck Tower?" he asks, evidently astonished. "I see... So you two are involved with him?"

"Rhett is a necromancer?" Leda asks Orian.

Orian sweatdrops, as if he can't believe she's asked that after all this time.

"He is the only one in all of Annadia," Ro answers for him. "You aren't even aware of that?"

"I'm not from here, remember? But, I mean, it makes sense. He did bring me back to life."

By the gawping looks of Ro, Nixon, and the surroundings attendants, Leda infers the idea is as incredulous as it sounds.

"So you've experienced death..." Ro halts his gawking as he properly addresses the letter with his eyes. "Why am I not surprised that is the case?"

Her face falls at his undertone. Then again, she can't blame him. She does put herself into a lot of crazy situations.

        As Ro reads the letter, he's silent. There's a brief moment where shock crosses his features but as quickly as a gust of wind, it's replaced with newfound solemnity. When he drops the letter by his side and fixes his gaze onto Leda and Orian, there's a shift. Not because his eyebrows have scrunched up together, but something more.

"I... see. So that's why you've sought me out." Albeit overwhelmed by inexplicable sorrow before, Ro shrugs it all aside and properly faces them. Not with discontent, but a look that is synonymous to newfound respect. "I have wasted a lot of time for you, then. I must give you my most heartfelt apology."

"Do not say that, Master Ro," Orian denies.

Leda nods. "We were planning on visiting the Land of Straeh anyway. We'll basically be killing two birds with one stone."

"Wh-why would you kill two birds with one stone?" Orian demands, jaw-slacked from disbelief.

         Even Ro stares at her like she's crazy. "That is extremely cruel of you."

"Hold on! It's an expression," she rationalizes before their disappointment can further escalate. "I don't it mean literally."

         Orian is promptly consumed in relief. He regains his previous optimism while Ro haughtily sticks out his chin, implying he's known all along. The attendants grin as they usher them forward. After beckoning for the elsoh to walk, Nixon directs them in the direction of the harbour.

"Human."

Leda peeks through an eyelid. Ro stares at her, both silently and intently for a while, but his eyes don't dare flicker away. Even as he tries again.

        "Leda."

It's startling, hearing him utter her name. But she doesn't have the leisure to gape because he continues.

"I know I have reiterated this but I must give you my sincerest thanks for what you have done and are trying to do for my people."

"I keep telling you you don't have to be so formal, Ro," she responds, plastering on her best smile. "Let's leave those kinda sentiments for after we've found a solution."

Gulping back a bit of her unease about what's to befall, Leda pins her gaze onto the horizon ahead.

"It'll take a while to get to Straeh, right?" she tells him and the rest. "Let's head out."