AYDEN

It was clear that I was not welcome in the Golden Palace. Sure, the trumpets exulted my arrival and I was honoured as a treasured guest. But the Revelians had no love for me. Even the guards whispered bitter words as I walked by, killing the conversation when I was in earshot. Even Commander Ava held a personal grudge. "If your son ever draws his sword on a Revelian again, I will see to it that your son is sacrificed to the Shrine." She had said to me. I could still feel the frostbite from her words.

To escape the vicious eyes of the castle, I had ventured into the woods to the east of Carleone. It was peaceful here. The trees didn't detest me, and if they did, they did not show it. I sat at the summit of the hill on which the forest had grown. I was kept company by the crumbling stones of an on Shrinery, long forgotten by the Druids. There was no doubt that this ancient Shrinery had seen the rise of Carleone over its years. In many ways, I preferred the Shrinery to the cold, unfeeling residence of the Revelians. The Shrineries had the blessings of a thousand Druids and could not be touched by the cold. Snow fell around them, but avoided the holy area altogether.

I was probably the only person alive who knew of this Shrinery. Many of the long rocks that drew the perimeters had toppled over. No signs of use or life could be seen. And with the beating heart of Soren resting at the foot of the hill, it was safe to say that not many people paid attention to these woods. But I found it a tranquil place to be; away from all the conniving lords and ladies. And the view never failed to take my breath away. I could see all of Carleone, the rooftops covered in snow. Looming above the city was the Golden Palace, in all its golden glory. Thanks to the lingering magics of generations of Revelians, its walls and roofs were unblemished by snow.

The Golden Palace was everything it was made out to be. It was twice the size of Carleone and the hundreds of its towers frowned down upon the city. It was made of rose-gold, rose-quartz, marble, and other lavish materials that many people couldn't even dream of. The orange, setting sun glistened on the gold and brought the castle to life. The mighty walls twisted and bent around countless courtyards, lakes and forests, trapping all of them in the castle's grip. Among these fancified scatters of encaptured nature were an endless number of keeps. And they all amalgamated to form the revered Golden Palace. It had been said that the gold used to make it was created by the Thaelariuses. A forest stood where the castle now stands, and they ordered it to be chopped down. Using magic, the wood was converted into the glistening gold. Such feats of magic were possible back then, but centuries of breeding has diluted the magic in the house's blood.

Wars had begun and ended within its walls. Multiple times, the Revelians had been driven from the Palace. But they had always returned to reclaim it. After many centuries of this, the castle became synonymous with the Revelian name. This was further cemented by the thousands of Revelian banners that flung from the peaks of the castle; the violet rose on a golden backdrop.

It had been constructed by the Thaelariuses after they stole Soren from the clutch of the Horrors. But no Thaelarius had seen the castle completed. The first person to set foot in the finished product was Richard Revelian II, two hundred years after the Thaelarius name died out and three hundred after the construction had began. The time it took to raise the giant from the ground was a perfect testament to how massive it was. In fact, it is not uncommon for inhabitants of the castle to live out their entire lives without ever venturing to certain reaches of the palace. One can only guess at what secrets have been forgotten in the golden walls.

I walked over to the Altar in the middle of the Shrinery, my footsteps rang on the stone floor. Birds flew overhead and sang down to me. I brushed my hands across the smooth rock. While most of the Shrinery had been worn down by time, the Altar was still perfectly chiselled. Whether it was the Druids' magic or the will of the Gods, the Shrine's Altars never faded into the years. For a moment, I could hear the cries of the souls who had been sacrificed on the Altar. How many people have been killed here for the Gods, I wondered.

"Too many to count." A silky voice said.

My eyes snapped around. It was a woman with brown hair and eyes to match. White robes with gold trim wrapped around her. Her loose grip held a staff of carved wood. My eyes widened and my mouth fell open. I was sure that this Shrinery had been abandoned. Every time I ventured up north I came to this place to be alone with the Gods. And in all the hours I've given to this Shrinery, I had never seen another person. But lo and behold; a Druid of the Realm and Gods stood before me, reading my thoughts like an open book.

"That's an interesting trick, your holiness." The corners of my mouth rose ever so slightly.

Her face flashed with a grin. "When touching the Altar, a man's mind is privy to all Druids."

My hands snapped off the stone table. "How much did you hear?" I offered a cautious look to the Druid.

The Druid let out a gentle laugh. It was as soft as the flapping of butterfly wings and as giddy as a hummingbird. She took a few steps closer to me, running her hands along the rough stones of the Shrinery. "It's not a matter of hearing, it's a matter of seeing. When you look down on Carleone, do you see one thing at a time? No. You see the entire picture. You see the birds flying over the roofs, you see the people walking the streets like ants, and you see the famed Golden Palace towering above it all. You only need to look at it for a few seconds to see everything that is before you."

"So what did you see?" I asked with an eyebrow raised. There was more frost in my tone than intended, perhaps the Revelians were rubbing off on me.

"I saw all that was on your mind," The Druid said in her silky voice. She was so close to me. I could feel her breath on my face, a fruity smell clung to her each word. Her face looked timeless; old and young all at once. I hadn't noticed her approaching, she was hypnotising. She was a foot shorter than I was, but her seeing eyes still bore down into my soul and stayed there like an unwelcome guest. "I saw Evie Revelian's royal blood draining onto your sword. I saw her head rolling to the feet of the Queen. I saw the Spellmaster's hand striking your cheek."

She paused, and it felt like all of time paused with her. Then her eyes swam with sadness- no, it was more like pity. "And I saw your side of the story. I saw how you won the war in the name of House Revelian. I saw how they paid you back with hate that was masked by formal love."

A few tears began to well in my eyes. There was something odd about this Druid, she was able to dig into my heart and tug at the strings. She placed a hand on my face and looked at me with an unreadable look that held a hint of curiosity. "It hurt, didn't it?"

I wiped my tears away and put on the most stoic voice I could muster. "It was a small price to pay to serve my queen. Even if she'll never appreciate it."

Then she said it. The words came out of nowhere and hurt me more than any blade ever could. "You loved her, didn't you?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. I had no response but silence.

"It is not a folly to love, Ayden." She insisted, running a hand through my hair as if she was petting a dog. It felt odd being addressed with my first name, but the Druid's did as they pleased.

My face twisted into a pained frown. I turned my back to her, disengaging myself from her hypnotising gaze. I took a few steps away to get a better view of the sunset. The clouds were dyed a shade of orangey pink and looked like they were oil paints. With one hand, I leaned on one of the rocks and stared down at my feet. I saw a tear slip from my eye and land on the stone beneath me.

"Your holiness, please," I choked on my words, and I was relieved the Druid could not see the tears pouring down my face. "Leave me be."

Ignoring my plea, the Druid put her hands on my shoulders. For a half second, she had all the seeming of a snake wrapping herself around me.

"Do you love her still?" She asked. "The queen is in danger, she needs your help."

I wiped the tears from my puffy eyes and turned around to face the Druid. This woman did not seem of this world. I trusted her as much as I would a cutthroat.

"I am not fond of being lied to, your holiness."

"You better get used to it, Ayden." She said through a sweet laugh. "The Noble Court is teeming with vicious eyes and malicious white lies." She pulled out a dagger from the pockets of her white robes. The jewelled hilt glistened in the sunlight. It was made of snowy quartz and pure gold. Dried blood painted the blade. "But I speak the truth. My men found this blade buried in the chest of a Revelian diplomat in Southern Pass."

I gawked at the blade, shocked that someone would leave such fine craftsmanship behind in a body. Was it a message? Was the killer spooked off? What confused me further was what she said. My men found this blade. Druids do not command men.

"Who are you?" I asked in a hushed whisper.

"I am Jasmine Lazareth. But you know me by a different name which I shall not speak here." She offered me the dagger. I hesitated, then took it from her hands and buried it in the pockets of my robes.

"I suspect the Hastwicks have their hand deep in this murder." She told me. "Meet me here tomorrow after your Rite of Crowning. Do not speak to anyone about this." Then the Druid turned and walked away. Her graceful footsteps sounded like music on the floor of the Shrinery.

"Keep your wits about you, Lord Laroux. The Noble-Court is teeming with people who want you dead. And not all of them align with the Revelians."

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Vicious Eyes and Malicious White Lies
-Wesley Lancaster-

Dedicated to my close friends and I, whom the characters are based off of.