Fallen One (Book three of Alfireán age)

- What Goes Up Must Come Down -

Drakovian stood there with his arms folded as he watched the others explain traverse wake to Valarinnia of all people. For the life of him, he couldn't believe this was happening. The very thought that they would turn around and go back from whence they'd come—when they were so close to where they needed to go—made him want to scream. By Eldrin's beard, it was like-

"Here," someone said quietly off to his side, breaking his train of thought while the distant sound of crashing waves echoed over the cliffside once more. Drake turned to see Zaphaniea holding out a black, leather-bound case.

The waning moon broke through the smoke-filled clouds and Drakovian frowned at the offered object, then raised an eyebrow at the grand champion.

"You seem upset," she said nonchalantly while the moist, chilly air tore at her long red hair. "Thought this might help you calm down," she added with a shrug.

Reaching out, he accepted the adorned case with thick red embroidery weaved along its seams. Running his finger along the edge of the soft leather box, he flipped it open to reveal six high-quality cigars: three held on either side in place by velcro straps. The prince didn't smoke, nor did he ever intend to, but the faint smell reminded him of one of the sitting rooms in the castle. A host of half-forgotten memories—quiet memories of him and his father having long conversations about the state of the Empire, God, and other various subjects, flooded his mind. They were... some of the finer memories of his father, he thought to himself.

Drakovian reached up and rubbed his right eye, wiping away a droplet of salty ocean water that had sprayed upwards from the wind, then turned back to the grand champion. "Where did you get this?" he asked as some of his earlier tension faded away.

"The spy's shop," she answered, watching while the princess followed Rex via traverse wake. "This is astonishing," the young woman exclaimed as she floated across the ground. "I did not realize that Alfireá was in possession of such a powerful skill."

The earlier sour feeling Drakovian had felt in his gut returned. Pulling his eyes away the spoiled princess, he once more looked at the grand champion's gift in his hand. "So essentially, you stole it?" he stated, his tone halfway between censure and wry amusement.

Zaphaniea shrugged. "I'd say it's more like spoils of war," she said, glancing at her ragged fingernails.

Something about the grand champion's nonchalant demeanor brought a smile to the prince's lips and helped ease the grating feeling in his stomach. "Thank you," he said softly, putting away the case in his pocket. "I'll pay Clavik for it the next time I meet him."

Suddenly, Valarinnia clapped her hands. "Let's be on our way," she called out to them as if she were ordering her soldiers into formation.

"Not so fast," Silver told the young woman as the head maid motioned for her sister to put away her scrying and catch up with Pony who was skipping joyfully down towards the city.

The young royal turned and raised a challenging eyebrow at the maid.

"We need to tend to our wounds first," Silver said smiling sweetly at the spoiled princess, then nodded at the angry, jagged burn marks traveling up the vice champion's arms. "We also need to scavenge what provisions we can from the city before we continue on our way," she added, indicating where Pony and Scarlet had headed off to.

"I see," Rinnia answered, grasping the hilt of her weapon and glancing at the wounded warriors. "Well, do what you must, " she said, turning away. "I can wait... but not too long."

Drakovian clenched his fists. Having her along for the trip was bound to be anything but pleasant.

"You really don't like her much do you?" Zaphaniea asked as Olivia tended to Rex's burns and Alf headed off to help the maids scavenge through the ruins for food and other provisions.