Chapter 19: Looming Crisis

Annabelle and Deadridge led the way through the stone hallways of the great castle in the Rose Kingdom’s capital. It was wider than the castle at Tidewalker port, nowhere near as defensible but also nowhere near as dark and bare. Woven tapestries made of plant fibers hung on every corner, and ornate doors lined many of the halls. Another difference was the population; while Arcane had been able to walk for hours down the winding corners in Jeffer’s fortress, they passed several groups of well dressed elfbeasts who exclaimed with surprise at the sight of the Princess and Spymaster.

“Is this part of your plan?” Deadridge asked, remembering Annabelle’s original insistence on secrecy.

“I can’t see my father any other way.” Annabelle replied immediately, ignoring the apparently noble elfbeasts hurrying to avoid her path. Arcane looked at them with pity, not liking the current arrogant attitude of her traveling companions.

“I could have arranged it for you.” Deadridge muttered in complaint, nodding an apology towards a pair of noble males who had jumped into a wall in trying to avoid Jasmina’s glare. “It wouldn’t have taken very long at all.”

“They would find out soon anyway.” Annabelle offered as another excuse, seemingly unconcerned with the impression she was making. “And its better they all learn at the same time. There is a traitor in our midst.”

“All the more reason to keep your return private.” Deadridge protested.

“I’d prefer they attack me directly, now.” Annabelle declared, turning sharply at a tapestry depicting a stone armored elfbeast holding a giant sword made of something metallic. Arcane memorized it instantly and reviewed it as they continued. It wasn’t actually metal, from the shape and texture, but some sort of mica covered granite. If the picture was accurate, of course.

“My fear is that they’ll ambush you again. Our enemies are hiding in the darkness of the kingdom, just like last time.” Deadridge whispered, looking conspiratorily around the temporarily empty hallways.

“I dare them to try.” Jasmina snorted. “Her highness won’t be defeated by anyone.”

“Even so-” Deadridge started.

Annabelle waved her paw to cut him off and lowered her voice suddenly. “Remember I didn’t return here alone.”

Deadridge tilted his head and ears in confusion, while Arcane suddenly perked up and glared at the Rose Princess. She remained silent, though, feeling it wasn’t worth it to remind the girl that she wasn’t exactly her servant. The arrogance of cultivators and royalty combined into a single being… how irritating.

Another reason Arcane chose not to speak up was that, unfortunately, Annabelle was entirely correct. So long as an enemy launched a direct assault on the princess, Arcane was very likely to be caught up in the crossfire and react with deadly consequences. Further, this world had a grand total of zero techniques that could be used to surprise her. Except for a single forbidden method that produced oil from the flesh of living beings, which she did understand and knew how to counter.

That reminded Arcane that she needed to learn how the Black Prince knew about oil in the first place, and how he learned the technique that produced it. If it was something passed down through his nation for a long time, that wasn’t a problem. While it was considered a lost technique, forcibly decaying organic material through heat and pressure into petroleum was neither strange nor unexpected for beings to discover. They would consider it highly flammable and toxic, nothing more or less. But if the knowledge came from some other form, then Arcane would have to search more deeply for other remnants of technology and science being developed in the universe she thought had long since moved past such things.

Arcane hurriedly turned to avoid running into Jasmina, who had followed Annabelle down a side hallway connecting two very wide passages filled with numerous people. Continuing to allow the pair of glass swords on her back to conceal her presence, Arcane fell back a little more and watched the nobility.

Class in this world seemed to be mostly differentiated by quantity rather than quality, which said a lot about the level of civilization. The furs that the nobles wore were rarely of better quality or strength than those of commoners, but they always wore more of them. A common elfbeast would wear the complete pelt of a single animal, perhaps a wolf for a warrior, a horse or cattle simulacrum for a farmer, and so on. Conversely, nobles wore pieces of wolf, horse, bear, and rabbit hides in a composite garment that displayed their wealth by the number of beasts they could fit into a single piece of clothing.

Similarly, the nobility grew wider as they ascended in rank. Interestingly cultivators were exempt, the noble and commoner cultivators tending to be of very similar size and body shape, athletic and thin. Arcane attributed this to the choice to base their power on combat prowess instead of wealth, forsaking material things for… another material thing, to be honest. They likely felt the energy gained from cultivation was not a worldly energy and as such lacked the innate sins of the pursuit of wealth or something, but Arcane had never been one for that school of thought. The nobility were all displaying their power in some way or another, either through high cultivations or massive waists indicating immense wealth or a combination of both. Arcane idly tried to figure out some relationship between rank, size of waist, and cultivation level, but gave it up as too easy after finding the model trivial.

The large hall was apparently the last one they had to reach, as Annabelle walked straight to a set of double doors decorated with roses and elfbeasts and flung them open imperiously. Arcane, expecting to see a king on his throne, was disappointed to find a large library in which a few older elfbeasts were sitting at a table, discussing something she didn’t particularly care about. Of course kings wouldn’t be sitting on their throne all the time, she reminded herself. Desks and studies were much better for getting actual work done.

Annabelle stopped in the doorway, looking towards the table where five elfbeasts turned to look at her, their eyes opening wide in surprise. The last remained facing the other way, not even turning at the intrusion.

“-will have to be curtailed. Guards, could you please remove the interruption.” The one said in an unsteady voice, filled with all the weakness and vulnerability of age without any of the strength.

Upon hearing it, Annabelle froze and took a slow step forward, her eyes watering slightly. “Papa?” She said in a childish voice.

Deadridge and Jasmina took a step back, exchanging a look and a set of whispers.

“What happened to him?” Jasmina asked.

“His majesty did not take her highnesses disappearance well. I had hoped…” Deadridge explained, keeping his eyes on the people in front of him.

“You hoped he’d be better before Annabelle had to see him?” Jasmina asked, sympathetically. “That may have been a good idea.”

Arcane listened and frowned. Apparently the king had not always been this old and decrepit. Grief had taken a toll on him, probably long hours and sleepless nights ever since his daughter was abducted. She understood that completely, but doubted more time would have done anything for him. Yet Annabelle didn’t seem to care about any of that, walking slowly forward towards the still seated elfbeast at the table.

“Gentlemen, can we return to our meeting now? We have much work to do.” The King said, sighing at his subordinates and waving at the guards on the side, who had still not moved after recognizing the princess.

“Papa….” Annabelle whimpered again, taking another step forward. “I’m back.”

The king held his head and flicked his ears slightly. “I must be imagining things again. Guards, please hurry up.”

“Your majesty…” One of the other men said, pointing behind the king to Annabelle. “You should probably take a look at this.”

“Papa, I’m home…” Annabelle repeated, begging with her tail and ears for the king to turn around and welcome her, hoping she was imagining the terrible state her father sounded like he was in.

“Even you, Lord of Tulips?” The king asked, shaking his head. “So be it. What is so important…”

His words died on his lips as he turned around, seeing Annabelle standing in the middle of the hall, paw outstretched towards his chair and tears forming in her eyes. Arcane winced at the new wrinkles scarring his face and the layer of white that had begun to grow out in his fur, deciding the king’s voice was by far the least affected part of his body. But Annabelle didn’t seem to care, jumping forward and hugging her father tightly.

“Papa! Papa!” She cried, tears running down her face as she clung to her elderly father who didn’t seem to know how to react.

“Little Belle? Is that you? Is it really you?” The king muttered, his paws hesitating over Annabelle as if afraid touching her would break the illusion.

“I’m back, Papa. It’s really me.” Annabelle said, continuing to cry into her father’s arms.

“Little Belle… I was so worried. You’re finally back… I’m so glad you’re safe! They didn’t do anything to you, did they?” The king mustered up the courage to hug Annabelle back, holding her just as tightly as she held him and letting his emotions run over him as well. He held her up and examined her from head to paw, looking for injuries or other humiliations with a worried expression.

“I’m fine, Papa. I escaped before anything bad could happen.” Annabelle reassured him, smiling even as tears ran down her face. Jasmina dabbed at her own eyes, and even Deadridge coughed uncomfortably. Arcane, for her own part, applauded in her mind at the moving scene without feeling a thing.

“I’m so glad…” The king continued, pulling Annabelle back into a hug.

The two remained that way for a while until Deadridge stepped forward and coughed. “Your majesty, I’ve already debriefed her highness and another escapee, Viscount Lady Jasmina. If you’d like to read the report…”

“Hand it to me tomorrow, Deadridge. Today I celebrate getting my daughter back.” the Rose king declared, standing up with difficulty even as Annabelle offered him her arm. “Gentlemen, forgive me, but this can wait till tomorrow, correct?”

“Of course, your majesty.” The previously named Lord of Tulips said with a bow, standing and sweeping up the hide documents while streaming towards the doors. Arcane stepped to the side, avoiding the exodus.

“Lady Jasmina, I thank you for assisting my daughter. Whatever you desire, name it and you shall be so rewarded.” The king said to Jasmina, looking her straight in the eyes.

Jasmina merely bowed and shook her head. “Her highness helped me as well. I cannot accept a reward for merely tagging along on the way back.” She said with a smile, stepping back.

“Hmm. Very well then, if you will not speak now I will not push it. Deadridge, please escort this young lady back to her family, or wherever else she desires to go. My daughter and I will be retreating to our quarters for the evening.” The king declared, to which Deadridge bowed and Jasmina accompanied him out. The King and Annabelle walked out a back door, entering an empty hallway that led to a set of even more elaborate rooms than the rest of the castle.

“Oh my daughter, I am so glad you’re safe.” The king said as the two entered one of the rooms, followed by an undetected Arcane.

“I am too, Papa.” Annabelle said, hugging her father. Then she looked suspiciously towards one of the chairs and narrowed her eyes. “Arcane?” She asked at it, not noticing Arcane standing in the doorway and leaning against the wall.

“Arcane?” The king asked, looking at his daughter strangely.

“Nothing, Papa. Just wondering where the second of my companions disappeared to.” Annabelle explained, smiling and returning her attention to her father.

The king, on the other hand, frowned. “Annabelle, you had a second companion? Jasmina was the only one with you in the library.”

Annabelle laughed and shook her head. “She has a habit of making herself invisible somehow. I wondered if she followed us, I would have liked to introduce you, but…”

“Oh, so you’re not mad?” Arcane said, her words drawing the attention of both elfbeasts to her in an instant. Annabelle gathered her cultivation instantly then let it vanish, sighing in exasperation.

“I swear you like making us jump.” Annabelle said, rolling her eyes while the king stared at the girl who seemed to materialize out of thin air in his room.

“How rude.” Arcane frowned, pouting her lips at the insult. “It’s all your fault for not noticing me.”

“... Little Belle?” The king asked finally, looking to his daughter for an explanation.

“Oh, sorry papa.” Annabelle said, pulling herself together and waving her paws at Arcane. “This is Arcane, a girl from beyond the Great Desert. She has a pair of artifact swords only she can use and is skilled enough to match an eighth tier cultivator in battle. She’s also the reason I was able to return today; she somehow manipulated sand dragons into attacking the pirates who kidnapped me.”

“From beyond the great desert…” The king muttered, looking at Arcane appraisingly. “I see. Still, I owe you a great debt, young Arcane. What is your desire?”

“Very little, though there are a few questions I want answered.” Arcane said, before remembering one other thing she might as well try to grab. “Or anything similar to this.” She tossed an apple to the king, who caught it and looked at it strangely.

“Slave food, I do believe… This is your request?” The king asked with a grimace on his face.

“She prefers it to meat, papa. She’s something similar to the old elves, who only eat plants.” Annabelle explained, smiling at her father’s discomfort.

“Elves only ate plants? I see… I suppose the scribes would have something to say about that but I can see this girl looks far more like an elf than one of us. Still, that request shouldn’t be hard to fulfill. What of these questions of yours?” The king decided, turning back to Arcane.

“I doubt you can answer. Mostly I’d like to know the source of the technique to make the black liquid that burns hotter than fire. As well as why that technique is being used.” Arcane shrugged, shaking her head.

The king took a sudden breath, turning to Annabelle with a startled expression. “Black liquid that burns… The Boreal Empire’s faceless?” He asked, his eyes boring into Annabelle’s.

For her part, the princess twisted her ears slightly in unhappiness. “I didn’t want to worry you, papa, but we were attacked by bandits on our way back and encountered two of them. They were outside our borders, but still in this continent.”

“That scum dares…” The king growled angrily, his ears laying flat on his head and his tail stiffening behind him. “I’ll make him pay if it’s the last thing I do…”

“No, papa! You can’t beat him in your condition. Let’s wait until you recover before we do anything hasty.” Annabelle protested, holding her father as if trying to prevent him rushing off to battle. Arcane watched the proceedings idly, peeling the apple with her fingernails.

“Then you are sure this Black Prince is the source of the spell?” she asked in a low tone, which compelled the other two to look at her emotionless face. “I see…”

Annabelle opened and closed her mouth a few times before managing to say something. “We aren’t really, but those who use it only answer to him. Also, you’ve done enough for us. Let my father and I fight the Black Prince.”

Arcane looked at the two, then sighed and nodded. “So be it. I won’t directly fight this Black Prince. Still, I will have my answers one way or another.”

“Very well. If you desire to oppose the Prince, I would ask that you take care of yourself. I do not wish to add to my debt without a chance to repay it.” The king said, falling heavily onto the bed and sighing. Annabelle rushed to his side, and he continued speaking once she was close enough. “Annabelle, my lovely little girl, it is time for you to take the reigns of the kingdom. My condition requires focus to recover… I hope you can prepare us for the coming crisis. I fear that once this scheme of his fails, that nefarious prince will take more direct actions against our kingdom.”

As the king spoke, entrusting the rule of the kingdom to Annabelle (temporarily), Arcane backed out the door and into the hallway while concealing her presence. She had little interest in the failing health of the king nor the drama over the throne that would soon be coming. Yet by her very presence she knew the oncoming storm was not destined to be so simple as the denizens of this world so naively believed.

Idly, she reached behind her back to stroke the handle of the sword named ‘Elucidation’.

Literally, to throw light upon.

Of all those living today, Arcane believed she had the clearest idea of exactly how devastating that light could be. And how deep the darkness that followed it.

Within the bedroom Annabelle knelt at the bedside as her father, the once proud warrior King of Roses, lay weakly atop the sheets. His breath and voice were ragged, the toll taken by her kidnapping still fresh in the aged flesh. Even so, he fought to remain awake and continue his duties in service of his sect and nation.

“Little Belle, do you trust that child?” he asked finally, taking a break from instructions on the nature of the kingdom and the politics of the nobles after his daughter’s kidnapping. Outside the window, the sun began its descent below the horizon, illuminating the room with a warm orange glow.

Annabelle raised her head and nodded once, her eyes firm. “I do. She is not our enemy, I am sure of it.”

“That’s good.” The king said, closing his eyes briefly. “Tell me about her.”

“There really isn’t much to tell.” Annabelle said, after a brief moment of thought. “She appeared from the Great Desert, claiming to have come from beyond it. She does not fear the sand dragons, nor the power of cultivators up to the seventh tier. During our travels she mostly kept to herself, staying away from others and acting as if she was waiting for something. Until recently I could not tell what she wanted or why she was doing anything.”

“What of the food she requested?” The king asked once Annabelle paused, her face filled with uncertainty. But his daughter only shook her head.

“She likes it, I can tell, but she doesn’t seem to need to eat. The boat trip was ten days back to land; that entire time she never ate nor drank. I cannot imagine she obtained any food in the desert; not fearing the sand dragons does not make her foolish enough to hunt in their domain. I…” Annabelle stopped again, taking a deep breath. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think they’re something she acts like she wants simply because it makes us more at ease with her. But why she would do something like that…?”

The king shook his head at the partially formed question. “I could not say either. She shows neither concern for reward nor punishment, royalty or commoner, cultivator or mundane. Further, she sees without eyes… it is disconcerting.”

“She claimed she was blind, papa. She may not even have them anymore.” Annabelle explained.

Yet the King shook his head. “I have seen the blind before, Belle. I have seen those who see without eyes, and those who see with their ears or noses. She is none of those. I cannot tell why she has them closed, but I can say this for sure: that girl can see, as well as you or I.”

“Papa… How can you tell?” Annabelle asked, her ears perking up in curiosity.

“Because of how she moves her face, Little Belle. I am sure she is well aware of the effect those closed eyes would have, yet she still points them at everything she is interested in. That tells me she still needs them to see.” The King explained, causing Annabelle to nod.

“That’s amazing, Papa!” Annabelle said joyfully. “But why is that so concerning? So what if she chooses to act that way?”

The King laid in silence for a time, looking up at the ceiling. “My Darling… No, Princess Annabelle: that girl should not be trusted. Someone without desires, without limitations, is dangerous. I fear that whatever her aims are, they are not concerned with the rose kingdom nor with its people.”

“Papa! Arcane hasn’t done anything dangerous to me!” Annabelle protested, half rising to her feet before blushing and falling back to her knees. Looking down and lowering her voice, she continued, “She has been very helpful to me.”

“I know, daughter.” The King replied, sympathy in his eyes as he turned to look at the fiery princess next to his bed. “Even so, I must warn you: tread carefully. You don’t know anything about this girl, nor do you have any idea what sort of factions are behind her. I, too, doubt she is an ally of the Western Continent or the Black Prince. Still, if aiding them will benefit her goals, I cannot say she would not. Do not grow too attached to her, Annabelle; Do not let emotion blind you.”

“Yes, Papa.” Annabelle says in a hushed tone, looking at the ground.

“I know it’s hard, Little Belle.” the King said, weakly stretching a paw out to pat her on the head. “But that is the burden of rulership.”

“I understand, your majesty.” Annabelle said, bowing deeply and rising to her feet. “I will do my best until you recover, father. Rest assured that our kingdom will be safe.”

She turned on her heel and left, closing the door softly behind her. The king watched her leave and then sighed into the empty room.

“I hope this crisis will allow me that time, Belle. But I fear it is not to be.” He said to noone, then turned and looked towards one of the walls, trying to see past it towards the distant western continent and a certain nation among them. In his imagination he saw a black furred elfbeast wearing a set of pitch black armor glaring back at him from behind a full face mask of darkness, shining with the light of cultivation. “You won’t give us that time, will you?” He whispered, his voice vanishing as he fell into a troubled sleep.