( 16 )

    He was a man who believed in both order and perfection.

    Ever since childhood, these two things had been deeply imparted into him by his mother, who he remembered as the person who raised him bitterly to become a proper monarch. By the time she had died of sickness when he was eleven, he had learned of the importance of those two things among the people. And in order to attain them, there was only one efficient way.

    Basil Agnis Castagne sought for power.

    Power, he realized, was what made a kingdom prosper. Power held the ability to control the people and instill fear. Power, in the hands of the competent, was a force to reckon. Even from long ago, it had already been an established rule among society. Those who were weak bent to the wills of the powerful. With a single command, he could decided the fate of a person. A single flick of his wrist could strike attention to his men. If he willed for order, they would yield. If he willed for perfection, they would oblige. For him, power meant having everything he envisioned become real.

    As the son of the king's only brother, Basil had been born with great power. Yet to him, it was not enough. When his uncle, the honorable king of Gisnell, reigned the kingdom, Basil had looked up to him power in awe. The king's authority, after all, was absolute. For many years, he had ruled over Gisnell. He did his best for the kingdom to prosper under his rule and in return, he was loved and respected by his people.

    Basil recounted the times when he was still young, where he would be allowed to enter the throne room while a heavy trial was being held in place before the king. As he remembered, his uncle's mere presence in a room had yoked fear. He recounted the regal look on his face, the air of intimidation he gave off by simply sitting on the throne. In the end, Basil watched in awe as he gave his verdict with a single word or a single nod. Once his decision had been passed, there would be no one to challenge it. Because of this, Basil greatly appreciated the importance of having power and idolized him. Oftentimes, he would even secretly wish that he had been born as his son instead.

    Yet, now, due to his age, the king's condition was stagnating. It was something that could not be stopped. Everyone in the palace knew that he was slowly dying. It was only a matter of time before the hands of death separated his soul from his shell. That meant that a successor would have to step up and inherit his power. For Basil however, who was only second in line, it was not him. Instead, it was his cousin and blood relative, the only daughter of the king and the heir to the throne, Yoko Agnis rex Castagne.

    Even though Basil held immense respect and honor for his uncle, he did not bear the same feelings towards his child. The reason was simple. He did not recognize her as his family, or even as someone who was directly related to the king. Contrary to Basil's calm and collected demeanor, Yoko was spoiled, childish, and shameful. No... there was more to it than that. Yoko and her tramp of a mother had been the ones who humiliated the royal name years ago. The reputation of their blood had staggered during that time, where the citizens began to frown on their lineage. And, as if to fan the fire, Yoko had decided to shelter the wretched witch who was the cause of everything, going so far as to allow her to roam freely, stealing around the kingdom and staining their name even further. Every time Basil was reminded of this fact, he had to resist the urge to smash the nearest object he could find. In due time, he reminded himself. In due time, you'll have the power you've always wanted. The strong were never supposed to show any weakness. He could not forget how they had shamed their family. He would never forgive them for what had happened. He would not allow that humiliation to happen again.

    Even under death, Basil could not accept her as the next Queen. It was madness, an atrocity. She did not deserve the crown. If there was anyone who did, then he knew that it was to him alone. And Basil was not the only who believed this. Most of the people in the kingdom agreed to his sentiments. Yoko was unfit to rule. However, it was not as if he could easily sway the king's choice. His will was absolute. Nothing could change his order. His uncle wanted Yoko to inherit his kingdom, not Basil. Because of this, no one could disagree openly, and anyone who did would be treated as a traitor and executed. However, that did not stop Basil from his yearning for power.

    There was, of course, another way. A method that had been used by power-hungry people in the years past. A different plan that required for blood to be spilled.

    Basil thought of this quietly as he stared outside his carriage, looking at the dirtied people outside. They were heading to the most secluded parts of the kingdom, where law and disorder were separated by a thin line. He clicked his tongue distastefully, unable to hide the expression of disgust from his face. He hated these places. However, the person he was about to meet had been the one who requested the location of their rendezvous, in order to avoid unwanted eyes and ears. Although they were only a small faction, there were still some who supported Yoko's ascend to the throne. If they were to found out what was about to happen, then Basil's hopes for claiming the throne would disappear along with his head. For that reason, he had dressed himself in the most inconspicuous attire he could allow. The carriage was a bit of a stretch, but Basil would not make himself to tread on dirty roads that stank of vice. As a precaution, he allowed only one guard to accompany his side, bringing with him no one else than Axle Freescanz, the kingdom's best swordsman and the one manning the horses outside.

    After half an hour of traveling, the carriage finally came to a stop before a small, beaten-down building. The lopsided signboard above bore the name Arcwithe Inn. Basil glanced warily through its double doors, seeing no one moving inside or noticing even any hint of life. He frowned. He considered if maybe he had somehow made a mistake about the location. Then after a moment, he chided himself. He was not the type of person to make such mistakes.

    The carriage door opened. Axle stood beside it, his posture stiff and erect. A longsword hung from his belt, where one hand was resting, ready to pull out the weapon in any moment. The swordsman nodded once to Basil, who clambered out. Without saying a thing, he began to walk towards the inn. Basil kept his footsteps light and quiet. Behind him, Axle followed soundlessly.

    Once they reached the top of the stairs, he pushed open the door without hesitation. A stream of sunlight crept in from behind him, detailing his shadow as it loomed on the floor. Inside, the inn looked weathered and completely abandoned. A thin layer of dust blanketed the place. Cobwebs laced the corners and silence emanated. There seemed to be no one around. For a few seconds, Basil and Axle stood there, surveying the scene before them.

    "You're here. I've been waiting for you," a female voice suddenly said from the shadows.

   Basil resisted the urge to act surprised. He turned toward the voice's direction and narrowed his vision to see through the semidarkness. As he did, the first thing that he saw were two golden eyes that shone menacingly through the black. Then, the figure stepped into the light, and Basil heard Axle gasp quietly behind his back.

    The woman who emerged from the darkness held a haunting, graceful beauty that could easily entrance another man. Her blood-red hair, darker than Basil's, fell below her exposed shoulders as she treaded closer to them. Red lips. Pale skin. Rosy cheeks. A beautiful face. She was wearing an ornate dress laced with small jewels that glittered as it caught the sunlight. Wrapped around her was a thin, transparent shawl. Basil regarded her carefully. Even among the kingdom, only a few women could be able to match up to her beauty. However, he could sense a feeling of danger reflecting from her golden eyes. From the moment he saw them, he knew that this woman was not anyone to be trifled with.

    Warily, Basil spoke. He lifted a sheet of parchment kept in his pocket for her to see.

    "You're the one that Devano recommended? The... witch?"

    The woman's eyes flicked over to his hand, then back into his gaze. A small smile formed on her lips. "Ah... yes. Indeed, I'm the one he recommended. I hope you didn't mind coming all your way here in this dilapidated part of the kingdom. I merely wanted to offer my services without the hindrance of unwanted spies."

    Basil forced himself to smile through gritted teeth. "No. I do not mind at all."

    She nodded contentedly. "Oh my, where are my manners? I'm talking to a future monarch. Please, take a seat over here. Let's keep things civil."

    Basil walked towards a round table near the broken window, forcing himself to take a seat despite the dust and grime accumulated on the chair. Axle silently took his place behind him. In front, the woman also sat down, graceful in every movement. Moments passed, an invisible blanket of tension settling in the air. The royal and the witch studied each other intensely.

   Finally, Basil laced his fingers. "So... I hear you're good at killing someone without anyone noticing. Apparently, more than just good."

    The woman smiled again, her expression neutral. "You flatter me. Although I do believe my abilities are... to your liking. However..."

   "However...?"

   Her smile widened, and a dangerous, almost hungry glint shone in her eyes. "... That wouldn't be fun at all, right?"

   Basil froze. He looked at her.

   "What do you mean?"

   "What I mean to say..." The woman's smile did not disappear. "Is that simply killing someone nowadays is too risky and boorish. People might start to grow suspicious if the crown princess dies just before she inherits the throne. As the next in line, the kingdom might turn to you for the blame. And they would be right. You would lose you honor and your throne. No, what I like is the permission to make this request as far from you having the blame as possible. And for that, I have an... excellent idea in mind. That is, if you allow me to do it..."

    The witch left her words to hang in the air, looking at him in the eyes with hers. He could not bring himself to turn away from her deep gaze.

   Basil was quiet as he contemplated what she had said. There was something in her voice, the fluidity in her words, that made her suggestion seem like the it was the most logical thing to do. However, he could not wipe away that feeling of doubt behind his head. There was something about the woman in front of him that made a monarch such as himself feel intimidated. Something he couldn't explain, but rather sense.

   A minute went. Instead of an answer, Basil tried a different approach. He opened his mouth, and as distastefully as he could, uttered his next words.

    "In all honesty, I'd rather not have worked with a tramp witch of your kind," he spat, testing to see how she would react.

    The woman didn't move. Neither did her smile fade. Instead, she suddenly said something that confused him for a moment.

   She said, "Restrain yourself."

   Beside him, Axle readied his sword, quickly moving into a ready position. Basil blinked. He realized that there had been something that moved from the darkness behind her. For a moment, he couldn't see anything. Then, a young man stepped froward and emerged from the shadows.

    The lack of his presence the entire time that they talked surprised Basil just as much as his features. He was handsome and lean, dressed in normal mercenary clothes that lacked armor. There was a single scar that ran down from his cheek to the edge of his chin. The only weapons he had were two swords strapped to his belt. His face was calm, the appearance of an artisan. Yet, his crimson eyes were filled with anger that made even Basil feel threatened. The young man looked like an extremely dangerous person who could easily pull out his sword and kill both him and his aide in a single slash. Basil had a feeling that if the witch had not stopped him, he really would have done so. The light position of his hands, the way he carried his feet, and even his every moment seemed to suggest that he was experienced in this field.

    The woman's smile melted. "Forgive me, your majesty. He is quite sensitive when it comes to me."

    Basil studied the young man, then returned his gaze to the witch.

    "... Has he been here this whole time?" he asked carefully.

    "Oh, yes. Just as you have your charming knight by your side, I have my own companion. I hope you don't mind him. I tend to take extra precautions sometimes," she remarked.

    Basil glanced momentarily at Axle. If even the kingdom's best fighter could not notice the young man's presence, he did not like to know if whether or not he could beat him in a sword fight. He laced his finger on top of his thighs and was silent for a moment. He weighed the scales of favor in his head, thinking of the benefits of working with this woman in front of him.

    "... No, I don't mind," he said, very slowly and evenly. "Instead... If I allow it... are you sure this would not be traceable to me?"

    She laughed, quiet and reserved.

   "Of course. I assure you. You have my word."

    Basil pursed his lips. He stared at her. Then, finally, he nodded his head.

    "Alright. I accept your service."

    The woman's expression neither brightened nor dimmed. Instead, it stayed as it was. However, she slightly leaned forward and lowered her head in an informal bow, tendrils of her hair falling from her shoulders.

    "I am honored, your majesty... I'm looking forward to working with you," she said.

    "And I'm looking forward to the results," Basil replied.

    She leaned back and made another thin, controlled smile. Basil stood up. As a man of practicality, he found it worthless to spend his remaining time in further conversations. He motioned to Axle with his hand, who took out a bound envelope from the satchel tied to his waist. Axle placed it in the grimy tabletop, scattering dust.

    "All you need to know is in there," Basil said. "Make sure not to disappoint me, witch."

    The woman reached out for it, her slender fingers closing around the binding.

    "Of course not... your majesty."

    Basil turned around to walk away, feeling better at the thought of finally leaving that place. Before he could, however, a sudden thought occurred to him and he stopped to turn around for the last time.

    "Before I leave... I believe I haven't yet asked your name."

    She looked at him. By her side, the scarred young man still looked as menacing and as dangerous as earlier.

    The woman stood up, every motion graceful. Then she placed a hand on her chest and bowed to him. Somehow, Basil sensed an ominous feeling from her actions. Something told him that she and her companion were not people to be trifled with. Basil know this well. Only a few people had ever made him feel guarded, and it was none other than his uncle, the king, and the other monarchs of the other lands which he had went to discuss matters with. Basil was suddenly wary if this was a good thing or not. In the end, he simply shook his head. His personal feelings didn't matter as long as they got the job done. The future of the kingdom depended on it.

    Order and perfection, he reminded himself.

    He watched as the witch straightened herself and opened her mouth to answer in a light tone.

    "You may call me... Claire."

    By the time Basil and Axle had left, a deep silence enveloped the abandoned inn. Neither the woman nor the young man moved as the seconds stretched on. Then, finally, someone spoke.

    "... 'Claire'?" The young man asked.

    The woman who called herself Claire made a quiet chuckle. "What's wrong with that? I've always wanted to be named Claire."

    The young man shook his head. He hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing his words. "I... don't understand what you're doing. After you told me that we'd come here, I expected us to leave after finishing another mission. But now I see that you have something else in mind, working with a corrupted monarch. I won't pry. Order me, and I will follow. However, all I ask is that you do not allow scum like him to talk to you in that manner-—"

    "My dear Raven... " The witch interrupted, placing her hand underneath her cheek. "You are too sensitive. It does not bother me."

    The Raven stayed silent, closing his mouth. He shook his head but decided not to speak any more. He then retreated into the shadows again, footsteps light, effortlessly masking his presence. But she knew he was there.

    "Rest. There is no need to worry, everything is all according to what I want," she mused with a slightly happy tone, turning around to gaze outside the windows. Beyond the torn and cracked rooftops of the slums, she could see the sun and the sky blanket over the world.

    "... Just wait and see," she whispered as the ghost of a sinister smile appeared on her lips. "I promise... it'll be quite wonderful."

----> thank you for reading!