Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

Alvara frowned, stepping past sharp branches that stretched out against her leg. She was in the general area, that was for certain. Raphael had told her several times of what to keep an eye for, and this place seemed to be it.

Only, the person promised to find her, according to Soren, never arrived.

Or maybe, she thought quietly, they were already there.

If they were, she wished they'd hurry and kidnap her. Getting lost did her no good, and there was little time for delay or she might ruin Soren's entire plan.

"Hey, necromancer." A light voice greeted with careless politeness.

Alvara stopped in her tracks and raised her head, scrutinizing the identical branches that hung overhead. It was daytime, and the sun streamed through the gaps, illuminating everything in the forest.

It'd be hard to hide.

After searching for the voice and failing, Alvara sighed. "I'm guessing you're one of the fox tribe members that Soren mentioned?"

"...Soren?" asked the voice gently, before warmth seeped into their tone. "No wonder Leader sent me out today. If that prince sent you out here, then he probably needs something. Follow my voice."

A loud rustle jumped from branch to branch, tree to tree. Alvara couldn't see them, but she heard them clearly as they formed a path before her.

Useful, really.

The more she followed the sound, the more lost she felt, twisting and turning through the endless grooves of trees. Her sense of direction wasn't bad — brilliant if compared to Soren, in fact — but she didn't know where she was.

Nor was there time to find out when the sounds drifted further with no intention of stopping.

Alvara hurried after, stumbling through jutting out roots, or twisting vines which tangled together at her feet. She almost feared she wouldn't make it with her limited abilities, to this place, which seemed so mysterious.

Eventually, she did. 

 Tripping on a stretched out branch at the last moment, she fell forward into a clearing. Her eyes blurred and, for a moment, nothing was there. 

"Come on, step forward." encouraged the same voice from earlier.

And so Alvara did. 

Slowly standing to her feet, brushing the dirt off her legs, she took a step forward into nothing. Until the invisible wall dispersed, leaving a tall, old building before her.

A cloaked figure stood in front, their aura radiating off their body like tidal waves. Their hood was low, covering their face entirely as the ground seemed to be coloured in their presence.

"A simple human dares to venture into this land of mine?"

Inquisitive, the voice was, low and probing, as if trying to steal your most hidden secrets, deepest thoughts. 

Alvara swallowed, feeling numerous pairs of eyes fixated on her from the dark gaps in the building, hiding whatever moved in the shadows. The wind whistled in an ominous song, foretelling her death.

She was a normal teenager before she woke, putting aside the suffering she went through. Here, before these piercing stares, she was terrified. 

But she had promised.

"You won't kill me." remarked the necromancer with a casual smile, walking to the forward, stopping only meters away. 

The pale teenager glanced at her and raised his brow curiously. He hadn't expected such a direct confrontation, nor the confident words the girl spoke.

She was walking into the devil's layer without looking back.

He asked, "I won't?"

"You won't."

"Why?" wondered the boy as he gazed upon her firm stance through mystic forest eyes.

"I have a request from Soren."

"And that is supposed to save your life?"

"Nope." she shrugged, raising her chin. "I already know you respect them, but that's not enough to control you."

"Yet you're so confident?"

"Mhm. And I'm confident you'll accept their request too — if you want my help, that is."

The boy didn't question her words, tilting his head as a faint smile tainted his blood-red lips.

He turned his body slightly, gesturing to the door as he tugged down his hood, revealing a mass of dark hair that brushed against a striking emerald.

"Then," he spoke softly, but danger laced his tone. "Come in?"

It was less of an invitation, but more of a command, yet it contained a hint of curiosity and interest.

To her, it was a wondrous dare, daring to bet whether or not he'd kill her. But if he was a devil, then she could call herself the same.

He who killed without a glance; she who played with the dead.

If they fought, only death would await her. If this boy, Damien, so pleased, he could deny her request and force her to follow his own wishes.

He knew that, she knew that and yet—

—she stepped inside.

---xxx---

 

"I wonder how Alvy is doing." wondered Brioc loudly, swinging his legs in the carriage childishly. It made Soren regret agreeing to share one cabin, but it was too late to turn back.

"She'll survive, alright." said Raphael, carelessly resting his elbow on the ledge of the open window.

Soren sat in his seat quietly, eyes crossed in a barrier to stop others from talking to him.

It just so happened that his companions was a madman who knew well of his habits and did them anyway, and an irritating hero who seemed to purposely annoy him.

The idea of sitting with his brothers was almost tempting.

The carriage would stop soon, however. A little away from the guards, but close enough to reach the hidden passage.

Vendra sat in the other car with Atlas as her partner. Both were well-known by their titles, but unknown by appearance.

A rumbling noise finally called the carriage to a stop, shaking as it crossed a bump. Soren flinched, moved by the unfortunate existence of gravity which forced him to press against Raphael.

The shoulder was warm, thought Soren vaguely, accepting the situation.

It was undesirable, but there was also nothing to be done. If anything, this protagonist was always warm, as if the sun burned bright in his chest — a reasonable heater if nothing else.

"Are you thinking of strange things, little prince?" asked Raphael with a casual, lazy smile.

Soren stared ahead blankly. "Don't push your hobbies onto me."

"What thoughts do you think I'm thinking of?"

"Nothing I care for."

Brioc laughed loudly on the opposite side, leaning into the cushioned seats with a grin. "It's a shame I didn't meet you two earlier, you're so amusing~"

At his words, the strange bickering ceased.

Both Raphael and Soren had one thing they agreed on: Brioc was indeed an odd character. Annoying too, at times.

After another moment of silence, Brioc couldn't help but say in a sulking tone, "So quiet? How boring. Do bicker more."

"Let's go." was Soren's reply, ignoring the topic with habitual ease.

The door swung open and Vendra stepped forward, dressed in a gown that seemed to be sewn from waves, revealing the elegant simplicity of a noble without the stuffiness of typical dresses. If she needed to fight, she could do so.

Next to her, Atlas was dressed in a similar simple style, adorned with a jewel that matched her dress. For tonight, they were partners. 

"Are you ready, little brother?" asked Atlas with a tinge of caution. 

Soren stared at him slowly and nodded his head. He didn't like being referred to as 'little brother', but he seemed not to mind it at this time. Or perhaps his reluctance towards family had dulled a little. 

For whatever reason. 

And Soren had realized something in the short time he'd observed Atlas. No doubt, there were minor secrets and habits only those like Damien or Raphael could decipher, but Soren had formed his opinion. 

Atlas was not cruel, nor cold. He didn't harbour any hatred for this body, as the original had assumed so deeply, but rather, Atlas was the sort who avoided all his siblings. 

He wasn't a social person, despite his excelling skills in strategy, and chose avoidance rather than confrontation. It wasn't to say that he was in the right to ignore Soren, but there was also no need to despise the fourth prince.

Atlas smiled and fixed his collar with a sigh. "It'll be dangerous, it seems. I've managed to catch up with the recent news of the continent, and despite my previous situation, I think I should be well-informed of the current happenings."

"It'll be my pleasure to inform you of anything if necessary." smiled Vendra politely. 

"I might take you up on that offer, Miss Selis."

She smiled kindly before turning to Soren. "Your position in the most dangerous, Soren. Do take care of yourself, won't you?"

"I will."

"Lovely. Then, I suppose we'll be off."

She entered the previous carriage once again, with Atlas following behind. Near the guards, they would act as a couple that had a falling out, hence the two carriages. 

Vendra would insist that she brought along two in case he bothered her again, which he did and thus, she refused to bring along only one carriage. Despite her sweet demure, her demonstration of the acting was realistic and quite believable. 

Atlas had laughed lightly and said, "I'd almost have believed I upset my partner if I hadn't known it was an act."

On the other side, the three men lurked into the forest, slipping through without a sound, away from any prying eyes. 

Brioc had behaved seriously, carefully walking through the bushes and maze of trees without saying a word. As amusing as things were at times, he would not make lightly of a mission such as this.

There was a low overhang, covered with dust and grim, only dozens of meters away from the walls which had been long closed.

Those in the forest could see through the curves of leaves, but it was near impossible to be seen by the guards.

The guards flocked the entrance, their eyes lazy and uncaring. It wouldn't be difficult to pass them, according to Brioc. The issue was the sheer number that roamed the streets in the name of the King.

Corrupt this kingdom was, lawless and horrible. The citizens were less citizens and more like obedient servants, below the nobility. The collaboration between the Third Religion only worsened things.

Now, ducked under the leaves beneath dangling roots of trees, curved and coiled around rocks, they stood.

Brioc spoke seriously, only at this time. "Absolutely do not make your presence heard, regardless of what you see. This is mainly for you, Raphy."

"...alright."

A warning meant that there were things that may be displayed before his eyes, but he'd be unable to do anything. That was a problem for Raphael, who cared less for the world and more for the people. 

Soren's eyes grazed over the reluctant expression on his face. This justice-seeking protagonist whose empathy made him so compelling to read — his kindness was his weakness.

"Stay quiet and don't look." 

Raphael turned to him. "What?"

"Don't ruin the plan. No matter what."

"...I know."

Soren glanced at him one last time and turned, pushing past the swaying vines which hid the passage away. 

Only to hear a patter of footsteps as Brioc squeezed past Soren and stumbled into the front. "Wait, wait, Renren. No matter what sort of mood you're in, you can absolutely not walk in the front."

"....."

Before Soren could say anything, Brioc had already started explaining. "You'll get us all lost, won't you? Ah, that won't do. I'll walk in front, okay?"

"....."

"What? Do you think you're actually good at directions? I hate to break it to you, Renren, and injure your princely heart, but—"

"Quiet." said Soren coldly through gritted teeth. 

The first remark might've been an off-handed comment on Brioc's part, but by the third remark, it was clear that the magician's only intention was to irritate Soren. 

Brioc laughed loudly, his voice echoing off the walls. 

"Shouldn't we be more discreet?" wondered Raphael, stepping inside the dark passage as he brushed aside the vines. 

Brioc shrugged. "The sound remains here, and nowhere else. Now get ready to get down on your hands and knees~ it'll be a long crawl."

Soon, they had understood his words. 

The ceiling slanted, forcing them to lower themselves until they could only barely fit, their backs grazing the cold top. A person could barely fit through the passage, which reeked of dust and nature, swallowing all light. 

Once, Brioc had crawled through this passage alone. 

What determination must he have had in order to escape in such a manner, despite his royal upbringing? 

The question was an unanswered wonder that hung in the air. And Brioc felt it, he always did. A prince who'd run away from luxury to indulge in helpless fantasies — it was quite the conversation starter. 

A story he didn't mind telling, really. 

"Are you curious? About why I left?" 

Raphael was the one who answered from behind Soren, his deep voice rumbling off the passage walls. "If you'd like to share it, then go ahead."

Brioc smiled at the front, though his smile carried sardonic ridicule. "I've said before, the Haze King is a fool. Hungry for power, no matter what sacrifice that had to be made."

"He married many women, but don't you wonder why there are so few princes despite that? It's nothing incredible, I'd say."

"What did he do?"

The air seemed to grow chilly, ice bristling at their arms. Brioc's movements paused for a moment, before continuing as if nothing were wrong. 

"He'd kill them." said Brioc lightly. "Those who were weak, different, or hard to control. He'd kill them all, and then their mothers'. The Haze King wanted to create power, shape his child into a killing weapon that would only serve him. From the moment you were born, you'd be forced to undergo lessons."

"And if you disobeyed?"

"Then you'd pay the price. Starvation, lashings until you were black and blue, bleeding all over. A punishment would leave you weak -- but we were not allowed to be weak. If you fainted, cried or pleaded, only death would await."

"Those smart enough to understand that from the start were the ones who survived the longest." Brioc laughed bitterly, furrowing his brows in anger. "Or maybe the ones who died were the smartest."

For the entirety of Brioc's life, he'd been a puppet made to serve the King. It had been his explosive power which manifested after a punishment that kept him alive. It was his luck.

Brioc remembered it well, as if he were still a child.

His body, drowned in blood and scars that would never fade. He'd hardly been conscious, but he had seen it all. The fire that hungrily lapped against the ground, whirling around him. It seemed to call for him, wrap around him, and hold him. 

Charred bodies on the ground, and the slam of the metal door as the Haze King burst inside, guards surrounding. 

The flames seemed to burn bright in that man's greed filled eyes.

He'd finally created what he so desired.

But Brioc? That child had no intention of being used. The power which burned with such an intensity that none could approach was not a blessing, it was a curse. And as his eyes darkened, haze filtering through his vision, the boy cursed everything. 

That foolish, terrible King. He would personally drag him off his throne one day.

"When I said the King is a fool, do not take him lightly. A person that only had themselves in their eyes is the most dangerous sort."

There was a cold, sorrowful silence that seeped through the passage. Raphael sucked in a breath, closing his eyes lightly before he asked, "And what of your mother?"

"Dead. Not because I ran away, though." said Brioc with a mocking chuckle. "Because she tried to escape, impossible as it was."

Suddenly, a strange, foreboding thought flickered in Soren's mind. "How long has the King been working with the Third Religion?"

"I don't know." replied Brioc. "But it'd likely have been a long time. Something of this scale cannot be done overnight."

"He was obsessed with controlling you."

"Wow~ you were listening so closely to my story, Renren. I'm flattered~"

"Answer."

"Yes, he was. If I, one who showed promise of incredible power, was under his command, there was much he could've done."

"How did you escape?"

"Didn't I say? Through the passa—"

Raphael suddenly understood Soren's thoughts, eyes darkening as he asked, "How did you escape when the Haze King was so obsessed with you? If he's crazy like you said, he wouldn't have let you go so easily."

"I..." For once, Brioc was left speechless. 

A sharp edge from the ceiling jutted out, nicking through the back of Brioc's shirt as he hissed. 

Soren stopped in his tracks.

From the gaps above Soren's shoulder, Raphael stared ahead and continued. 

"That was an error in our judgement. The Haze King never let you escape, Brioc. Because there was always a way to find you, to get you back. You..."

And in the crook of Brioc's pale back, a pale, glowing tattoo pulsed with a promise of despair.

"...were never free to begin with."