I stared up at the ceiling.

It was a high-arched, gaudy thing with silver molding forged into ornate flowers and triquetrae. Behind it, the ceiling was white, painted in a way that left intentional brush strokes behind as a sort of pattern. I liked it, and it reminded me of the way Mother used to paint.

I banished away those memories for the moment. They would do nothing but bring me sadness, and this was not a time to fall into the blue. I dropped my eyes.

I tried to lean against the back of the chair I’d been relegated to, but was unable to. The seat was hard as a board, and very uncomfortable. A magical seal was drawn below the chair, just perceptible from my frozen position. It was what kept me from being able to move. I couldn't feel the pain of the gash on my leg anymore, and as I peered it, it appeared as though the wound had been healed over.

How could that have happened?

I sighed, dismissing the confusion from my mind. I had larger concerns at the moment. For the hundredth time tonight, I studied my prison.

The room itself was much the same as the ceiling. Austere furnishings decorated the space, while the garish adornments of station filled every nook and cranny. A deep-hued wooden desk stretched out in front of me, occupying the center of the room. It was the length of a man, and then some, and it supported a few baubles and scrolls on top of it. There was a single, large window on the other side of the room, with beautiful blue curtains framing the darkness it held back. It was still evening, and the room was filled with the amber glow of oil lamps, turned down to half, and bathing the walls in warmth. If I’d arrived under different circumstances, it might have been cozy, but it was unsettling. Whomever this room belonged to was wealthy, that was to be sure.

How long had it been? An hour? Two? My head was buzzing with a mild ache, and my strength had not yet returned from the fight. The man who’d accosted us in Heldrtown, had used some sort of transportation magic to bring us here, but the moment the light had faded, Nox and Captain Hyperion were gone, and I was sitting in this chair.

I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I didn’t think I was in danger of being killed. No, the mage who’d performed the magic could have killed us if he’d wanted to while we were paralyzed by his abilities.

I tried to move again, but the spell had bound me from doing anything other than blinking, and breathing. My side itched, and it was torture to have to endure the sensation.

How long am I going to be stuck like this?

As if to answer my question, there was a loud slam behind me. It startled me, and I think I may have jumped if I had been able to.

It was a door, I knew that much at least. Someone had entered the room with heavy footfalls, and from the edge of my vision a man emerged. A saw the mane of green hair and the golden-rimmed spectacles of the man who had appeared outside of the guard house to waylay us. His expression was still the same-- haughty and important. He smirked at me as I stared back, incapable of uttering a word.

“I hope you’ve been enjoying your respite,” he said, in his deep pitch, “but, it’s time to come with me.”

If I’d the ability, I may have swung my fist at him. I hated his manner. He had an arrogant air about him that made my blood boil practically to fever.

If Father were here, he’d knock that confident smirk right off of his irritating face.

The man lifted his hand in the air, and I felt myself yanked upward, chair and all. I was suddenly floating a foot from the ground, still seated. The man seemed to take joy in what was likely my slight widening of eye, and then spun his hand in a circle. Suddenly, I was whipped around, facing the side of the room that had formerly been at my back. Then I moved. I floated perfectly, as if carried, toward the closed door.

Was this some trick? Is he just here to slam my incapacitated body into the door?

However, the door suddenly opened, seemingly on its own, and I was whisked through it and before long, I was soaring down a lavish hallway filled with candelabras and portraits. I was moving too fast to get a good look, but this passage must have been in some sort of nobleman's manor. I was sent around a corner, and past a few connecting corridors before I stopped suddenly, in front of a large double door at a dead end.

Two men in armor stood stoically in my path, but with a nod, they quickly opened the doors to reveal the interior of the room on the other side.

My breath caught in my throat. The majesty of a glorious throne room filled my vision.

Polished braziers enclosed each of the ten blue-veined marble columns, lighting up the lower levels of the hall and allowing shadows to play and dance where the light could not reach. Vivid illustrations of long-forgotten battles were painted in loving detail on the bowed ceiling, and they seemed almost alive in the flickering light, while curious busts of aristocratic men forged of silvercraft looked down upon the white marble floor of the stretch. A ruby rug ran from a large, central throne made of the same veiny stone, and down through the center of the room, splitting into two paths leading out, while rectangular banners with burnished fringes covered parts of the walls.

Between each banner hung a small luster, many of them having been lit, and in turn illuminated the sculptures below them. Wide windows were concealed by curtains colored the same hue as the banners. Rams head tips and black leaves adorned the fabric with inspiring decoration.

The radiant throne of marble itself sat atop an elevated platform, adjoined by two smaller and less elaborate seats. The throne was covered in hallowed inscriptions, and fixed on each of the stubby legs was an ornate hoof. The broad pillows were crimson, and these too covered with ornate embroideries. Balustrades overlooked the throne, crimson flags hanging from them with the same symbol as the curtains.

Directly above the throne was a deep-red banner, the rams head of the Aries Nightsign emblazoned in black and white on its face, with a golden crown depicted beneath-- the symbol of the currently ruling family, House Zephyr.

I’m in the Royal Throne Room in Ingvald? How did this happen?

It was a lot to digest, but I did not have time to process the new stimulus as well as I would have liked were I to arrive under different circumstances. I floated forward, and could see two additional shapes holding council in front of the marble platform. They stood, and seemed to be conversing seriously. A tall form, encased in burnished and dented armor, and a much smaller figure with a tattered blue cloak and blond pageboy cut.

Hyperion and Nox!

I wanted to cry out to them, but as I floated forward, they turned. Nox scowled in my direction, and Hyperion’s expression was immutable.

Oh no, what happened?

However, I realized very quickly that the boy’s scowl was not directed at me, but behind me. As I came to a rest a dozen feet from the others, Nox began marching forward angrily, pointing a menacing finger at the green haired man behind me.

“I should blast you into bits, Garth!” the boy announced, his neck and face flushed with rage, “how dare you hassle my friends like this?”

Nox nodded in my direction.

“Release Hutch,” he said, and it was a command, “now.”

The deep voiced man behind me chuckled.

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

Your Highness?

There was a subtle sound, like glass breaking from an echoey hallway, and suddenly, I could move again. I shot out of the chair, my muscles tense and aching.

“Ah!” I exclaimed, and began feverishly massaging my sore pain points.

“Are you alright, Hutch?” Nox asked, his tone changing to concern. The boy seemed even more irregular now, his comfort in this place was remarkable.

But, what was this ‘Your Highness’ business?

“Yeah, I’m alright,” I said, and then shot a glance at the green haired thug. He was smirking at me, and slid his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

“I did not hurt him,” he said.

“Good,” Nox said, turning to face him again, “snatching me up is one thing, but how dare you go after Hutch and the captain. You cannot go kidnapping everyfolk of the Kingdom like that. It’s rude.”

“I was merely trying to assess your level of safety, Highness,” Garth said, his tone flat, “your security is my primary concern.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nox said, waving him away, “I should put you in the dungeon with Carlisle, see if you get a little less nosey.”

“Your Highness ran away from the castle,” Garth continued, bowing low in an almost sarcastic way, “I was terrified. When I saw you with these uncouth brigands, I assumed they had taken you against your will. So I acted in what I perceived as your best interest.”

“Save it,” Nox commanded, “you knew damn well what was going on. A Giant was attacking Heldrtown. I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.”

“A Giant that your brother has quelled,” Garth corrected, “and run off into the mountains again, protecting Heldrtown and Ingvald.”

Brother? My head was spinning. Nox seemed to catch that I was having a difficult time following, and smiled at me.

“Sorry, Hutch,” he said, “I should have said something before. I’m--”

“My son!” A voice shouted from the far-away doorway. I turned.

A portly man with a gigantic, untidy gray beard had emerged from the hallway beyond. He was tall, but the roundness of his frame was exaggerated by the fact that his entire body was wrapped in a fancy red blanket. He seemed disheveled, as if he had just woken up, but his demeanor was strange. He stood just inside the entrance to the throne room, smiling in an unhinged manner. Then he raced forward, his bare feet only just visible beneath the frock of the gathered fabric.

He reached us in a slow moment, and immediately dropped the blanket, revealing silk bedclothes, pristinely white, and wrapped Nox in a big hug.

I just stared. Hyperion shifted uncomfortably next to me, and Garth too seemed a bit off put by the interaction. Nox looked as though he was trying to escape, struggling against the man’s strength. Eventually he was able to slip out from beneath his arms, his face red with embarrassment, and straightened his clothing.

“I was worried!” the man bellowed. He had a peculiarly commanding voice, despite his appearance. Then, looking up, he seemed to notice us for the first time.

“Oh,” he said, his wide eyes studying our faces as he looked back and forth between the captain and myself, “we have guests. Nox, who are your friends?” He reached out and patted the boy’s blond head fondly.

Nox scowled, but then his expression relaxed and he smiled.

“Hutch, Captain Hyperion,” he said, sweeping his hand to the man at his side, “allow me to introduce my father…”

“King Procello Wirbelvint Zephyr the Second.”