<u>Chapter 44 - Fickle Hope</u>


    Clack, clack, clack.


    Footsteps from the far end of the dungeon.


    "I''ll kill you! I''ll Flaming kill you!" someone shouted.


    Scraping and rustling sounds followed by more clacking.


    Eildred raised his neck, dazed, straining his eyes to see what lay a few feet before him. It was like looking through a window that hadn''t been cleaned in decades. His head throbbed, lower lip and left cheek swollen, taste of iron in his mouth, blood and sweat staining his shirt. His cell reeked of his own odor. Something he''d come to not mind in the time he spent in the dungeons below the palace. He was locked in the cell opposite of the one where Idris Khan had been held.


    A flickering orange glow spread along the old stone floor. Elongated shadows accompanied. Three pointed heads stretched slowly as the light reached to the opposite end of the path. Three people, one of them carrying a torch. They weren''t here to beat Eildred. Only two came when he was to be beaten. There was another prisoner being brought.


    "Aargh!"


    One of the shadows disappeared, the person likely falling to their knees. Rustling and grunts echoed. The two remaining shadows shook. There was a loud thud followed by a groan. One pointed shadow remaining.


    Eildred felt his heart drum. He held his breath, overcome with a strange feeling.


    Hope.


    Who won the scramble? The prisoner or the jailers? Eildred opened his mouth to call out, stinging pain on his lips as they cracked. A second shadow grew.


    Hope died.


    If there were two shadow heads, then it was the guards that were still standing. The shadows grew larger. The prisoner was being dragged along the floor. The two guards —former Queen''s Guard— stopped before Eildred''s cell. One had blood running down his nose. They unlocked the cell opposite his, pulling the creaking door open, and threw a man in a red coat inside. They sealed the gate, glanced Eildred''s way, then stalked off.


    Clack, clack, clack.


    Natan and Lider. Dutiful guards, when they had been guards. Now, nothing more than traitors with their queen''s blood on their hands. They weren’t the ones Odain sent to beat Eildred every so often. None of the Lotus Knights were. The Vicegerent was thorough. Former acquaintances could be leveraged and guilt tripped into sympathizing, even if they''d betrayed. Men Eildred didn''t recognize were the ones sent down to beat him. Men that Odain had full loyalty of.


    "Who''d they bring now?" asked Finral. The grand chamberlain was locked in the cell to the left. A thick stone wall separated him from Eildred. Finral being alive made sense. He had knowledge of governance and finances and records of reports as well as experience in handling paperwork. Doubtful that he''d be reinstated, but he was a source of information.


    But why am I being kept alive? Flames, it hurts. Why not just kill me and be done with? I want to see her…


    But no. Torment awaited him in death also. An ache settled in his chest and made his eyes water. Eildred, defeated, felt like curling up, but even that wasn''t allowed of him. His arms were chained and pinned to the wall. He screamed, flexing his muscles and struggling against the binds around his wrists. Chains rattled, but the iron cuffs nailed to the walls didn''t budge.


    The mighty Thundersword whimpered.


    "Eildred," Finral said calmly, "You''ll scrape and cut your wrists if you keep doing that."


    Teardrops joined the dirty mess on Eildred''s shirt. Finral wasn''t chained like he was. He didn''t know how suffocating it was to be in this position. Good riddance if I slit my wrists and just bleed out. But did he really want that? Dahlia was probably happy somewhere with Madrivall now. He had no place in death and he was nothing but a failure in life.


    I still have a duty. Princess Emeria still lives.


    Hollow thoughts of a distant man. A man that Eildred was no longer. He was cursed. He really had outlived Dahlia as he said. But he wasn''t going to be serving a third generation of House Lakris. Odain had full control of the nation. Who was left to oppose him and that fairy woman at his side who blindly conducted massacres without question with just short sentences from him?


    "I loved her too, Eildred," Finral said. "I watched her grow since she was but a babe. Watched both Dahlia and Emeria in fact. We have to endure. There''s always relief at the end of hardships."


    "In stories maybe," Eildred responded, his voice haggard from all the phlegm and blood he''d swallowed. "Imagination is a weapon, isn''t it Finral? Can you imagine a way out of this predicament?"


    "I am but an old man. Wielding weapons is your task."


    A crass joke, but it alleviated some of the pain from the wound inside. A wound that was fresh every morning, whenever morning was. Eildred had begun fearing sleep. Nightmares accompanied. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her die, heard her cry and accuse him of being late.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Conversations with Finral were all that Eildred had to keep from going mad. His muscles had weakened due to their lack of use and his figure had shrunk from a lack of food. Now, after a month in the dungeon, his mental strength was waning as well. He wondered where Azurus and Elizia were. Could he dare to place his hopes on them? Or perhaps on Lord Serene. If anyone could find a way, it''d be the Silver Eagle. Right?


    Not likely. Kalin had his hands full with the Empire.


    Another odd hope occurred to Eildred then. "I met a prince a few months back," he found himself saying. He hadn''t shared this thought before. He was supposed to inform Dahlia of the matter. Of the Flame Bearer currently living as a pirate. The boy named Aaron.


    The new prisoner groaned as he sat up.


    "A prince eh?" Finral said. "From which natio—"


    "Flames and Ashes!" the new prisoner roared, standing up and gripping the bars of his cell as he stared Eildred in the eyes. "Flames and Trillia''s bloody period Ashes! Odain''s won, hasn''t he? To think I was counting on you when they brought me to the capital. The great Thundersword now but a prisoner. Guess we''re all Flaming stuck here, then. What of Dahlia, eh Eildred? Let me guess. Dead? Flames!" The man kicked at the lock on his cell. The mechanisms inside rattled but otherwise seemed unharmed. He continued to kick, putting all his back into it. His body shook with each strike, long and sweat drenched black hair sticking to the front of his face. The unkempt beard on his chin made his once handsome face look as if belonging to a vagabond. A vagabond that had found a once nice red coat that now had holes and dirt stains all around it. "Flames! You let Dahlia die! You useless dog! Some Flaming Queen''s Guard. Some Flaming hero. Absolute Flaming fail—"


    "Shut your mouth, Agrienne Caranel!" Eildred bellowed, again struggling against his binds. "I''ll—"


    "You''ll what?" Agrienne interrupted. "Kill me?" He spat in disgrace. "That''s Lord Caranel. Remember it, failed guard."


    Such petty insults shouldn''t have angered Eildred, but they did. He felt heat surround him. A sea of vulgar words entered his train of thought. A petty jealousy pricked at his skin as he recalled Dahlia''s expression when Agrienne had offered to take her hand in marriage. She''d actually considered it then and all because he was handsome. Eildred felt his mouth dry. He imagined himself strangling Agrienne. He was a failure, he knew that. But to hear it from a man who had ill intents towards his beloved was a heinous stab at his pride. "Piss on your mouth and your ''lord'' title, bastard." Eildred said, baring his teeth, spittle flying out.


    "Gentlemen, we''re all hapless prisoners here," Finral said, trying to mediate.


    Agrienne clicked his tongue and sat down, back to the bars. "What do they feed us down here?" he asked after a long while.


    "Piss and maggot soup," Eildred said, still hot with rage.


    "Gruel," Finral answered at the same time.


    A long moment passed. Eildred''s anger died down and the pain in his stiff muscles settled back in, his arms hurting most of all from being hung and pinned to the wall for so long. The cuffs were only ever unlocked when food was provided. Even then, only one arm was released and multiple armed men stood watch outside the cell.


    The grand chamberlain let out an audible yawn. "A prince, you were saying, Eildred."


    "What''s it matter?" he replied. "It''s a pointless hope. He''ll probably be killed before he manages anything."


    "Now now, we''ve little left but our imaginations and optimism," Finral said. He followed it with a long sigh, as if not believing his own words.


    "And despair," Agrienne muttered.


    A stretched and dark silence followed after that. Eildred couldn''t help but agree. The grand chamberlain''s silence signaled agreement as well.


    "So, why do you place your hopes on some foreign prince?" Finral finally asked.


    Agrienne suddenly banged his fist against the iron bars. There wasn''t much of a sound and his arm went rigid, suggesting that it had hurt him quite a bit. He breathed through his teeth by the sounds. "Here we are, the three of us locked together with nothing to do but indulge in pitiful imaginations of some fairytale escape. Except we aren''t quite the stereotypical damsels in distress.


    "Flames but I''ll probably go mad if I don''t do the same. Do explain, oh failed Queen''s Guard captain, for I too have nothing better to do than dream like a princess locked in a tower. Or would a sickly whore in a backwater brothel be the more proper analogy here? So what is this hope that you see yourself imagining, Sir Aegis?"


    "Shut up," Eildred said.


    Agrienne snorted. "Well, I''ll add to our despair then. Duke Serene won''t save us. Arcaeus Peak is under siege from what I overheard while being brought here. Lord Galadin can probably be branded a traitor. Or Odain seems to imply that he will be easily bought. Lord Coraine I hear is dead. Ah, I hear Queen Dahlia is dead too and the Captain of the Queen''s Guard has been imprisoned in the palace dungeons."


    The rage boiled inside Eildred again, but this time he kept his mouth shut, calming himself with deep breaths. Dozens of deep breaths. "Not foreign," he mumbled after a while.


    "Mm? You''re actually sharing?" Agrienne said, turning his head. For all his vitriol, he couldn''t hide the curiosity in his eyes. Even a man like him needed a string of hope to cling on to.


    "You say something, Eildred?" Finral asked. "My old ears don''t catch things as well as they used to."


    "I said not foreign," Eildred said louder.


    "Not foreign what?"


    "You asked why I placed my hopes on a foreign prince. He isn''t foreign. Not exactly." Agrienne turned completely at that, fingers curling around the bars. He seemed deeply interested all of a sudden. "He''s Xenarian," Eildred continued. "Our… king to be exact. A Flame Bearer of High House Zz''tai."


    The grand chamberlain stayed silent while Agrienne stared wide eyed. "How old was he?"


    Eildred narrowed his eyes. "Around my niece''s age. Maybe a year or two difference. Why does it matter to…" The boy had short black hair. A minor connection but it was more than enough. Agrienne was known to have lured dozens of women to his bed, and had spent the last few years searching for a lost lover. "Flames, Agrienne. The boy is yours?"


    He said nothing. He crawled to the end of his cell and tucked in his knees, burying his head within it. Eildred frowned. The proud Agrienne crawled and was now acting like a reprimanded child? Was he… feeling emotional attachments? That would suggest he loved this boy''s mother very much. Eildred found it hard to believe Agrienne was capable of that.


    Flame Bearers. High House Zz''tai, a ruined line and Xenaria''s former royalty. They''d ruled over a once great Xenarian Empire. But all that remained of them was a tainted legacy. Accused of having ties to the Tortured Throne and attempting to resurrect its ruler, they were deposed and destroyed a few centuries ago. Remnants of their line were still hunted to this day.


    Aaron Zz''tai. He had Artifacts and strange allies, among which was a Shadow Walker. Another race of people branded Darkspawn and hunted.


    Eildred rested the back of his head against the stone wall. He breathed out through his open mouth. Dare I place my hopes on the devils of our history?