Six of Ruin (Heirs of Irenwell #1)

King Bernard dropped both of his fists on the table in a childish tantrum of anger, “You’re late! You’re late! Why are you always late?!”

Rixen glanced briefly at his father, “Your ale is dripping, father.”

“Do not call me that! Do not! Call me that!” King Bernard got up, his face turning scarily purple, slightly blueish, “And you’re drunk! This is important! Oh, you useless piece of Orathian garbage!”

Danilo jumped over to the king, lingering around him like he was worried he might collapse. An angry sneer grabbed his beautiful face.

I stared at them with my eyes open, grasping the strange relationship unfolding in front of me. Rixen said nothing: he plopped on the plush cushions on the sofa in the corner, crossed his legs and his head slumped down, like he was about to fall asleep.

Danilo’s voice pierced my ears, “How dare you behave like this? How dare you talk to a King like that? And how dare you come here wasted?! Do you truly care about nothing?”

Rixen raised his head, his hazy eyes rolling. A smile emerged on his upper lip, “He’s sending himself to an early grave, I’m just helping out along the way.”

Danilo leaped towards him, tension rising in the room.

Nickeltinker plopped on the chair next to me, boredom hanging off his pout, “How I love wasting my time watching petty men bicker over petty thrones.”

The brute, Torvald, extended his long, muscled arm and blocked Danilo’s way.

Torvald shook his head and grunted, “Ugh.”

Danilo backed away reluctantly.

My voice dropped to a whisper as I leaned towards Nickeltinker, “And I thought women stirred drama.”

The green-skinned boy chuckled.

The King coughed ungallantly and raised his arm, “Enough of this! We are here for a reason and I will not tolerate childish bickering.”

Danilo simmered down, but the anger still flickered in his icy blue eyes. Reluctantly, I gazed at Rixen and regretted it momentarily.

He dropped both his hands over the backrest of the chair and looked over me shamelessly, “Has the perfect climate been treating you so badly that you had to come here?”

I swallowed the sudden fear, fighting the urge to expose his sobriety to the rest of the room. But no one could ever know about this strange curse that allowed me the knowledge.

Danilo’s hand gently grazed my forearm, as if warning me not to say anything.

I bowed my head, escaping the yellow gaze from the other side of the room. I noticed Danilo’s other palm on the hilt of his sword in a feeble attempt to defend my honour.

King Bernard hit the table with his flat palm, “Enough! Let us get to the important things. The trip starts tomorrow night. We’re already behind schedule.”

Danilo stepped forward, “Why hasn’t the mage responded to our letter?”

Rixen cut in, “Because he doesn’t give a shit.”

“Watch how you speak in front of the Princess!” Danilo raised his calloused finger as a warning.

Nickeltinker palmed his face. Torvald moved closer to Rixen once more. And the King dropped both of his palms on the table, “Enough! Enough! Enough!”

No one said a word, but Rixen snickered, obviously wildly entertained.

The King cleared his throat, “We do not know why the mage hasn’t responded. The bird never returned. So, it either died on the way or the mage took it.”

“Why wouldn’t he just refuse?” I asked, finding difficulties speaking out loud in the room full of men who knew way more than me.

Rixen chuckled, “Oh, he refused, just not in the traditional sense.”

“He’s disrespecting our Kingdom.” Danilo shook his head.

“He has never respected any kingdom.” Rixen shrugged.

All this talk of a mage reminded me of my own tiny problem. Could a mage sense me? Would he know I, too, had magic in my blood? I plastered a disinterested look on my face, hoping no one would notice my sweaty hands and my flushed cheeks.

Nickeltinker waved away with his hand. “He is the only mage out there with a shred of decency. Believe me, if you were as powerful as he is, you would all be way worse.”

I leaned slightly towards the blondish green-skinned boy, finding him the least intense to talk to, “Who is he?”

King Bernard roared, “As Ypsilos Gis Magos tou Naz.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, “doesn’t ring a bell.”

Rixen looked at me with his hazy eyes, “As the High Earth Mage of Naz.”

“Wait, Naz?” I leaned forward, “Like the Kingdom of Naz?”

“Oh, who would have thought?” Rixen smirked. “They do teach something beside utter lies in Irenwell.”

A slight pang of anger awoke in my blood, but the rational part of my brain began to rethink the sentence. Utter lies? What was that supposed to mean?

King Bernard ran out of areas to palm, so he palmed his purple face. “Yes, the fallen Kingdom of Naz, which ceased existing when humans defeated the mages.”

“I thought mages from that time were gone.” My voice left my lips in hushed tones.

“You thought wrong, little girl.” Nickeltinker’s legs dangled off the chair, a mischievous smile decorating the corners of his lips. “Mages aren’t gone. Mages are everywhere. But they’re mad and evil and angry and bitter and I suppose one can understand them. After all, humans did wipe them out.”

Danilo’s lips thinned, “Humans were defending themselves.”

“That’s the human narrative.” Nickeltinker shrugged, not even a smidge of concern or doubt on his face.

Torvald nodded, “Uh-huh. Ugh.”

Well, he surely seemed like a talkative fellow.

A crease formed between my brows. The facts I’ve learned about the War of Men danced before my eyes. The narrative was quite clear, mages were a threat we’ve managed to defeat. We celebrated the war by counting the time since it happened in the honour of King Ronald the First, who united all humans against mages.

Danilo’s face distorted, an ugly sneer smudging his gorgeous mouth, “Humans were under massive threat, we were nearly wiped out-”

Rixen cut him off abruptly, “There were five hundred thousand of you against mere ten thousand pure mages!” His voice changed, it shifted from relaxed to angry in a second.

I swallowed the fear that tore at my throat. Danilo grunted something under his breath and Nickeltinker’s eyes narrowed towards the knight.

I whispered my next question, “Is he dangerous? The mage?”

Danilo’s hand gently grazed mine. “Do not worry about it, your Grace.”

“Oh, she should worry about it!” King Bernard shouted. “You should all worry about it! We lack a mage! A mage, you idiots! Hilda!” His head snapped to the door. “A boar! I want a roasted boar! Hilda.”

“But what do we do, your Grace?” Danilo asked.

“What do you do?” King’s palms dropped flatly on the table again, leaving sweat stains on the fine wood. “You fetch him! You will go to the Woods of Loria and fetch a mage!”

Rixen suddenly got up, stumbling over his own feet, and pushed a small tea-table to the middle of the room. Then, he took a scrolled map from the wall and opened it up in front of us. The map of the entire world, showing all three continents, Middle, Eastern and Western, but only the Middle Continent in its entirety. The rest of the world was still unexplored.

What surprised me the most was how detailed it seemed to be. Every mountaintop, forest, lake, village and road were neatly documented.

This was a map rarely seen in Irenwell, where we never bothered ourselves with anything insignificant for us. Lands of Bastia were the farthest lands of concern to us.

This map showed everything. Villages in Bastia I’ve never heard of, bordering with the mountains on the north and the sea on the west. Strange towns even further up, where no creature was human. Eastern shores, inapproachable in Irenwell because of the large cliffs blocking our way, were densely populated in the north. They even seemed to communicate with the Eastern Continent.

I located the Woods of Loria northeast of Bastian lands, a flat plateau surrounded by mountains.

“Why is it called that?” I asked, unable to stop the tiny bit of awe.

Rixen’s lips twisted upward, “There are stories that a fox-woman called Loria lives there.”

“Nonsense.” Danilo shook his head. “That is a myth.”

“Who is she?” My curiosity got the best of me.

“A demigoddess.” Rixen’s yellow eyes sparkled. “The northern god of nature fornicated with a fox-”

“Enough.” Danilo cut him off.

It took me a moment, but I figured it out. Danilo was the only legitimate heir to the throne of Bastia and Rixen was King Bernard’s bastard son. Even though a bastard couldn’t steal the throne of a rightful heir, Danilo seemed to hate the guy.

Perhaps he hated him because despite his sweet-talk, Danilo wanted the throne.

Or it was because Rixen was a dangerous man, as my brother had mentioned.

A renewed sense of fear gripped my muscles and led my legs away from the map, forgoing the ancient fox-related myths and my genuine curiosity.

“Sir Danilo of Danth is, as always, right.” Rixen smiled. “And why should anything concern a princess? After all, you most certainly wish to stay a clueless, pretty doll.”

Danilo gritted his teeth, “Do not talk to her that way.”

“Oh, fuck me.” Nickeltinker let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re not paying me enough, King Bernard.”

King Bernard wasn’t thrilled, “If you do not shut up, I will have you killed and have a mercenary deliver your blood to Orathia!”

“I thought blood had to be fresh.” I mumbled.

“I will risk it!” King Bernard roared. “Rixen, walk them through the journey. I need to have something to eat. That damned Hilda never brought my boar.”

The King got off the stool and waddled out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Danilo leaned towards me, “Be careful how you talk to him. He may seem tame, but he will have your head on a stake if you anger him.”

A very un-princess-like retort formed on my tongue.

Rixen cleared his throat before I could say anything, “This is the plan.” His wayward finger traced the map. “We will take horses to the Woods of Loria, which is on the eastern side of Bastia. The horses won’t enter the woods, so we will need someone to take care of them.”

Nickeltinker raised his hand, “I know a guy. He’ll do it for a Bastian copper coin and a flagon of ale.”

Danilo squinted, “But can you trust him?”

Nickeltinker scoffed, “Unlike men, florans are honest and honourable.” And then, he added. “But we need that coin and the ale.”

Rixen continued, “Assuming we manage to pass through the Woods of Loria unscathed and convince As of Naz to join us on this journey, we will take the horses all the way to the town of Balr, situated on the west bank of Bastian lands.”

My eyes followed the map as Rixen spoke. The road from the eastern to the western side of Bastia seemed alright enough. But Bastian lands were relatively safe and the real trouble would begin once we crossed the borders.

Sudden silence attracted my attention and I raised my head, realising solemnness had settled over our little fellowship.

To my surprise, Torvald finally spoke, “As, ugh, no.” Or, he tried to speak.

Danilo nodded, “I’m afraid the brute is right. As of Naz doesn’t care about humans, he doesn’t care about anything. He will refuse.”

Nickeltinker countered, “Do not be so quick to forget who came to aid the last time we faced the End of Days. When the debts were created, when the tome was locked in Orathia. It was As of Naz who helped, he was the one who found the way to save the world. Not the three kings. It was him.”

And this interesting little piece of information Irenwell books managed to leave out.

It was Rixen who agreed with him, suddenly sounding way too sober for someone who slurred and stumbled minutes ago, “The fact is, As of Naz is our best bet. Therefore, we must find a way to convince him. Does anyone know what that prick might want?”

Was the act there solely for the King of Bastia? Did he want his father to regard him as incompetent? If so, why drop the act in front of Danilo?

Nickeltinker pursed his thin, green lips, “There were mentions of an item that might be hidden somewhere in the ruins of Orathia that the mages were after. They said it shows you who you truly are. Perhaps it’s a mirror of some sort. But none of this was directly related to As, just the mages in general.”

Rixen briefly looked over me, making me feel exposed. I took a step back, letting Danilo’s body shield me from the protruding gaze.

“Nickeltinker,” Rixen spoke, “if you can find out anything, it would be of great help.”

The green-skinned boy shrugged, “I will send out letters. But you should try paying the mage, everyone knows money is the greatest desire in our age.”

“Alright.” Rixen returned to the map, his finger trailed across Bastia, all the way to the small town on the north-west coast, “Let us assume for the time being that As will join us, because without him, we might as well stay here. Once we reach the town of Balr, we will create a ruse.”

My eyes widened.

Nickeltinker rubbed his hands together, “Ah, a ruse. How can I be of use?”

Rixen leaned over the map once more, “A huge ceremony will be held in our honour in Balr. We want the entire world knowing where we are and the way we are headed. Which is to Orathia, across the Northern Ocean.”

I frowned, “I thought we were going by land?”

Danilo answered, “Common folk will believe we are crossing the Ocean.”

“I know a few people who would gladly sell our whereabouts to anyone.” Nickeltinker looked ahead, his gentle eyes narrowing. “No one can know the way we’re going.”

Torvald grunted, “Ugh, kill, hmm.”

Rixen looked at the brute, “Torvald will kill anyone who stands in our way. And we do not want to leave a trail of bodies behind.” His eyes went back to the map. “After Balr, we’ll be heading to the distant north.”

I looked at his finger, pointing to the distant north, a huge, vast place covered with either ice, mountains or dark woods. Here, our knowledge wavered. Some towns were marked, but nameless. Some places were left blank, undiscovered. At the northernmost point, there was nothing but ice. Frozen Sea was marked on the west, the narrowest passage between Middle and Western Continent. And there were the forgotten lands of Orathia.

Ruins of the old kingdom were marked.

Our destination.

Faint nervousness gnawed at my stomach, “So, what do we do now?”

Rixen let out a short laugh, “Pray to all the gods you know that As of Naz accepts our call.”

“Wonderful.”

“Well,” Nickeltinker pushed himself off the chair, his legs soundlessly landing on the floor, “I’m going to the great hall to enjoy the buffet.”

Torvald voiced himself again, his huge, round eyes widening, “Uh, boar?”

“Yes, my large friend,” Nickeltinker headed for the door, “there’s boar and ale.”

The brute grunted, nodded and followed the green-skinned boy.