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2022-05-26 04:39:38Kingdom of Sargas, The Royal Palace;
A wine goblet almost smacked Atarah on the forehead. She ducked in time as it smashed against the glass door behind her. “Henry, control your liquor.” She yelled towards the table on the far right, just a foot away from the throne. Atarah walked down the aisle, her hair a tangled mess and her face covered in mud. The red cape was back in its place, as her rifle was nowhere to be seen. She stopped before the diamond steps leading to the throne and went on her knee. “Your Majesty,” she said, looking at the floor.
A middle-aged man, with a diamond crusted gold crown on his bald head, occupied the grand chair. He was holding a goblet in his hand and stood up when Atarah bowed to him. “Quiet down everyone.” He yelled in the hall, his cracked voice reaching every corner of the walls. Atarah straightened up and felt the room suddenly turning over. It was quiet, all eyes on her, all ears on the king. “Today, we sow our sorrows in the lands of Gliala. Today, my dear niece and your princess return victorious from yet another war. “He stopped, waiting for the court to erupt in a harmonious cheer. And so they did.
He raised his goblet towards the chandelier, and the court hushed again. “TODAY, WE FEAST ON OUR REVENGE AGAINST ANTARES.” This time, his voice bounced back from the corners, and the hall erupted again. The king took his chair and drank until the last drop. “Congratulations, niece. You have made us all proud. Enjoy.” He said with a toothy smile. Atarah noticed the chip in his front teeth and wondered if he ever forgave her for that. “Thank you, Your Majesty. “She bowed deep and turned around, leaving the hall. Her robe flailing behind her, the scenes from the war playing on a loop, the bruises on her limbs hurting, and the stab wound on her shoulder stinging.
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Her room was the same as she had left three days ago. Messy. Atarah had ordered the servants not to enter her room while she was away. She hated when she couldn’t find things on time. She hated when they made it a cleaner room, removing all traces of human life. She unhooked the robe, and it slid down on the marble floor. Astara was still on the battlefield, helping the soldiers with the dead. Stripping, she hopped inside the warm shower, draining out the images of the farmers laughing around the harvested crops. She wondered if the vision was a dream or a reality. A time when Gliala was a livable haven for everyone, including the Elvi.
Elvi was the witches, born with the Sun’s magic. They were the healers and helpers. The builders and bakers. They helped the kingdom progress a lot faster, but after the Great War, the Elvi were killed or forced out of Gliala, seeking shelter in Antares and Sargas, the Diamond kingdom. The Lura, evil witches, ravaged Gliala 22 years ago, screaming for revenge while trampling on humans. Lura was responsible for her parent's death. The Lura was the one revenge Atarah had never taken, the one revenge she planned every night before sleep.
Her thoughts were interpreted when someone knocked on the bathroom door. “Yes?” Atarah yelled over the sound of the shower. “Your highness, Delroy is here to see you.” Elaxai’s muffled voice came from behind the door. What does he want? Atarah thought, annoyance creeping in her mind at the mention of his name. “I’ll be right out.” She answered and turned off the shower.
Delroy, the king’s advisor and the most annoying person on earth, was gazing out the circular window. His hands behind his back, his light blue robes were old-fashioned, just as he likes. Over-sized sleeves and a long gown, hiding his shape. Atarah sometimes wondered what he hid underneath the robes. His weirdly shaped eyebrows always creeped her out.
Delroy turned around when he heard the bathroom door closing. Atarah was in her bathrobe, a white towel wrapped on her head. “My apologies, your highness. I know you must be exhausted from the battle. I only wish for a word with you.” He walked slowly towards the desk and took the velvet chair. Atarah sat at the head of the desk and let him continue.
“As you know, the memorial service is coming up, and with the crown prince’s sudden demise, you are the heir to the throne. There is talk among the court about the king remarrying, and- “
“If it just talks, leave it at that.” Atarah cut him off. She knew where he was going with this. Delroy was the longest-serving advisor of this kingdom. He had been serving her grandfather and now her uncle. She always wondered, for a man with vast knowledge, he had never taken a step towards the throne.
“You realize the king is marrying for an heir. I promised your father to look after you. I promised him your birthright.” He looked serious,
Atarah folded her arms and stared at the man who has served two kings. “Tell me, Delroy. Do you have greed for the throne?” Atarah asked bluntly, knowing it was treason to even bring up a coup as a subject. She wanted to see how he reacts, she wanted to know why her father trusted him and why she couldn’t.
“That is absurd. My loyalty is to the throne, no matter who sits upon it.” He got up, scraping the chair, hurrying for the door. Atarah smirked behind his back, getting the answer. Before he could exit her room, Atarah stopped him.
“Let me make this clear. The battleground is my kingdom. The King can keep his throne.”
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It was Elaxai who bandaged her after every battle, a short beautiful Elvi, with blond hair reaching her knees. “You were careful this time, your highness.” She said, wiping the crusted blood on the wound. Atarah flinched and bit her lips. “He stabbed me.” Elaxai smiled, and her pupils changed color. “I'm glad my pain makes you happy.” Atarah gripped the bedsheets when Elaxai placed her palm on the wound, and a rush of heat followed it. She was using magic. “Oh no, your highness. I just assumed your meeting went well with Prince Dragomir.” She looked Atarah in the eyes, her expression worried.“He stabbed me,” Atarah said, eyeing her shoulder. The Elvi removed her palm and got up. “All done. Get some sleep. You have to give a speech at the memorial tomorrow.” Elaxai lit up some honey-scented candles in her room and left, closing the door behind her, giving Atarah the peace and privacy she wished for. ^^^^^^^^^^^^It was past midn
Last Updated : 2022-05-26The Raging Diamond 4.
Given her relationship with the King, Margaret thought the princess would crumble to the ground and weep. The woman was ready to handle the broken heir. She was already clutching on the napkin in her left hand, waiting for the tears, but Atarah shocked her by pulling out her blade, lightning fast, and held it up to her throat. “Where are the soldiers?” Her voice was calm, and it scared Margeret to even come up with the thought that the brave warrior had her uncle murdered. “On the way,” she stuttered. Atarah threw the blade on her bed and sat on the edge, looking at the carpet. Margaret didn't know what to do. Should she console her? Should she question her? What was the princess feeling? It was hard to understand her expression. “Your highness, the soldiers will take you to the throne room, for your safety.” Margaret whispered. She was afraid the princess would throw a blade at her anytime, and she would meet the same fate as her King. But thankfully Atarah didn't flinch from her po
Last Updated : 2022-05-26The Raging Diamond 5.
Orantal, the capital of Sargas was alive at 1 am. The streets were filled with people walking in crowds, holding electric candles, and singing the funeral song. Atarah had sung herself in many funerals, but she had never witnessed the song reach her heart when sung by a thousand. She stopped running and stood on the dark rooftop watching her people grieve their beloved King. Something stung in her heart and in her nose. She tried to hold it in, but it was no use, and she released the emotions she was burying deep. Sure, the king was more like a fool than a father, but he did bring her up with love and affection. Taught her to protect herself because she couldn't trust the court, taught her to become the best of the best, so that when the time comes, it will be the people who fear her, and not the other way around. But most of all he was the only one besides Astara, whom she could joke about Delroy.Atarah sniffed. Dammit, she thought, wiping the tears with her sleeves. Why did they ha
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Luckily, the docks were not as busy as she had thought. Though it was 1am, the time when ships docked and cargo were unloaded. There were only a few ships docked and left unattended at the port. Atarah had her hood up. The blackout helped her face hidden from the few people who were already there. She spotted the white long ship with Antares’s flag on the head of it and walked towards it. There were four men attending the ship, their faces gloomy and empty bottles of whiskey kept neatly aside on the deck. Atarah stomped her feet on the deck, making as much noise as she could to wake them up. One man looked at the stranger, making a noise at 1 am. He put down the box and walked towards her. “Can i help you?” His voice was slurry. Atarah didn't take off her hood. “how much for Antares?” The stranger blinked his eyes twice and slapped himself awake. He yelled, “3000SAR” “When will the ship leave?”“When everyone is aboard.”“How much time?” “You running from something?” Atarah looked
Last Updated : 2022-05-26The Raging Diamond 7.
The walk back to the palace was quiet. Atarah’s head was covered again. She was walking in the middle with the three soldiers surrounding her. The streets were almost empty, and little by little the street lights were turning on. Richard stopped at the intersection, where a fountain had just turned on and water droplets flew from the splashes. Atarah took off her hood. “Are we there yet?” she asked, but Richard only put up his hand. Someone was hiding in the left alley. “Come out.” Richard said. Atarah already had her hand gripped on the handle of the blade, she knew her reflexes were faster than the bullet. “I COMMAND YOU TO COME OUT.” He yelled this time. Atarah heard a low growl in the shadows, and purple-blue pupils blinked at the group several times. She smirked, letting go of her grip and relaxing. “It’s alright, Richard. She means no harm.” Richard looked at his queen, confused, but got his answer when Astara walked out of the shadows. Her eyes threateningly settled on Richar
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Margaret was the first person who rushed towards the guards and fell on her knees. “It was my fault.” She cried. “I asked her to flee. Punish me, leave her be.” The guards exchanged a look. They were confused, and Atarah felt a powerful emotion towards the woman. “No one is punishing anyone, Margaret. Get up.” Atarah bent down and spoke to the woman in her ear. “You’re the head court lady. Compose yourself.” Margaret wiped away her tears. Her faded red locks had come undone from the braid, her eyes were a mess from the running eyeliner. She looked at Delroy and then at the princess. Getting up slowly, she dusted off her skirt and wiped away the tears. A soldier handed her a napkin with a smile, and she took it, clearing the eyeliner off her face. “Listen up everyone.” Delroy gathered us around in a group, hunched over, “The princess never left the palace. She wasn't seen at the port. She needed some time alone to grieve.” He then met eyes with the three guards and Margaret. “Are we
Last Updated : 2022-05-29The Raging Diamond 9.
Atarah was already having a bad day. She decided the council needed to see who was in charge. “Delroy can’t always get his way.” She mumbled. Delroy must've been her father and her uncle’s advisor, but her rule will have some changes. She walked far away from the council hall and stopped in front of a circular window, which overlooked the famous Sargas rose garden. The weather was beautiful, and she wished to run to the waterfalls, where her favorite place lay behind the cave. Atarah had everything there, her practice weapons, and hidden wine, which she stole whenever the king would open his exclusive wine collection. She discovered the cave when she was 7 and on a hunt with her father. “Who does it belong to?” she had asked her father, noticing every single detail in the damp cave with wide eyes and an open mouth. Her father had chuckled at her reaction. “To us. It belongs to Sargas, to the royal family, to the people of Sargas. To you.” He cupped her face with affection and picked h
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The next day, Atarah got ready for the funeral. She chose a simple black dress with her red velvet cape which adorned her house sigil. “Everyone’s ready to proceed, your highness.” Margaret informed her with a bow. “I’ll be right outside Margeret.” When Atarah stepped outside her room, beside her, Dragomir also stepped outside, wearing a black suit and bowtie. His silver hair was tied neatly in a bun. His kingdom and house sigil were stitched on his right breast. The memories of last night came back to her, and she turned away her head, hiding the blush which was forming. “Aren't you going?” he said, fixing his bowtie., Atarah nodded and led the way outside the palace, aware of Dragomir’s footsteps behind her. The funeral was held outside where the memorial burial house of the royal family was. Tulips grew in bushes surrounding the house, giving it a lively glow instead of a gloomy, dark place. The house itself was made of white marble, with hints of black and gray lines running thro
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Margeret was right, Delroy was punctual and Atarah was late 15 minutes, her hair dripping wet as she had slipped on whatever she could find first thing. “I apologize for my late arrival. Let’s begin.” She said once she entered the hall, huffing. Delroy gave a nod and then began the meeting. They had started off with the taxes and construction, which made her zone out 5 minutes into the meeting. “Your highness, do you agree?” Atarah rubbed her eyes and looked at the staring eyes of the four men. Agree? To what? She thought, she didn't want to look like a fool just before coronation, “Yes, I agree.” she smiled. Delroy’s eyes lit up with her agreement as he said, “well then, there will be a ball on the coronation weekend.” “Uh.” Atarah nodded with agreement. She had no idea what the ball will be for, most probably to gain favours with the allies. “And what do you think of Prince Jaswer of Hargon.” she really wanted to squeeze the life out of Delroy, who the fuck was that? Atarah quickl
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This wasn't the first time her birthday went so bloody. Atarah remembered her 14th birthday when her uncle had sent her to her first mission. It was to hunt a serial killer who had been kidnapping baby boys and eating their livers. She had found the man hunched over a fire, eating raw liver out of a dead baby boy. Atarah had vomited first at the brutal sight, and she wished for her parents to be there with her, to cover her eyes, and sing her back to sleep, saying it was all a dream. But she wasn't a 10-year-old anymore, so Atarah took a breath and took out her new sword. The man had watched her every move and then grinned. The blood dripped from his mouth, and his teeth were covered in little chunks of meat. He made a gurgling sound, as if calling her close to him. But Atarah knew best. She raised her sword just as the man stood up and brought it down, cutting his wrist off. The man screamed in agony; he ran forward, making those gurgling sound, and Atarah noticed he had no tongue.
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The night was young, and the streets were filled with people enjoying the summer bliss. Black banners and flags waved at her as she passed by the shops. The mourning period wasn't over yet, and her citizen acknowledged that. Her red cape was hiding her figure and the mask hiding her face, but the huge needlework on the cape projected her birth and upon seeing it, many people bowed to her, muttering the phrase, “long live the queen.” Atarah didn't stop to nod or smile. This wasn't a summer solstice festival where all she did was smile. And wave at her cheering people. She looked o her right here at the empty alleyways and saw a black figure of a wolf walking with her steps. Atarah smiled. She knew Astara would never leave her alone. The port side was empty. Because of the recent murder, she saw as royal soldiers held back the few sailors who were curiously trying to take a peek at the hidden bodies. One soldier identified her and bowed, walking towards her, “Your highness, what bring
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The next day, Atarah got ready for the funeral. She chose a simple black dress with her red velvet cape which adorned her house sigil. “Everyone’s ready to proceed, your highness.” Margaret informed her with a bow. “I’ll be right outside Margeret.” When Atarah stepped outside her room, beside her, Dragomir also stepped outside, wearing a black suit and bowtie. His silver hair was tied neatly in a bun. His kingdom and house sigil were stitched on his right breast. The memories of last night came back to her, and she turned away her head, hiding the blush which was forming. “Aren't you going?” he said, fixing his bowtie., Atarah nodded and led the way outside the palace, aware of Dragomir’s footsteps behind her. The funeral was held outside where the memorial burial house of the royal family was. Tulips grew in bushes surrounding the house, giving it a lively glow instead of a gloomy, dark place. The house itself was made of white marble, with hints of black and gray lines running thro
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Orantal, the capital of Sargas was alive at 1 am. The streets were filled with people walking in crowds, holding electric candles, and singing the funeral song. Atarah had sung herself in many funerals, but she had never witnessed the song reach her heart when sung by a thousand. She stopped running and stood on the dark rooftop watching her people grieve their beloved King. Something stung in her heart and in her nose. She tried to hold it in, but it was no use, and she released the emotions she was burying deep. Sure, the king was more like a fool than a father, but he did bring her up with love and affection. Taught her to protect herself because she couldn't trust the court, taught her to become the best of the best, so that when the time comes, it will be the people who fear her, and not the other way around. But most of all he was the only one besides Astara, whom she could joke about Delroy.Atarah sniffed. Dammit, she thought, wiping the tears with her sleeves. Why did they ha
