369Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ3jlhCrYUJ
Author's Note:369Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoGkU1x3B8P
This story is a completed book I have written over the past few years, I am at a point in writing that while the story is VERY imperfect, I would like to share it with people who are willing to read it. I've had a blast writing it and stories exist to be read, so I hope that those of you here oblige that existence for some time. I'll be posting the chapters every so often, it is a long story so it gets tedious after a bit lol. Enjoy! :D369Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWN4Mx8PxEl
-Will369Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGSixJftiOB
The Palace of Steel, despite its name, stood as a structure crafted from marble and slate. Its two spires pierced into the sky accompanied by the smoke of the many forges scattered throughout the city of Adenosse.
Aever contemplated the contents of the letter August had intercepted from those rebel messengers. The chance of capturing Poitha’s apprentice had fallen straight into their lap. The last place he wanted to be was Adenosse, but the fool son of their duke insisted he come at once.
He approached the palace's courtyard, its towering walls acting as ever watchful sentinels protecting the palace within.
Two guards stood at the gate; one of them, a portly man with a frightfully ugly beard, put his hand up to halt Aever and spoke, “State your name and business,”
Aever’s face crept into a smile, “Aever of Atheham, I’m here to see Lord Frederick,”
The second guard, a slenderer fellow, placed his hand on his comrade’s arm. “Let him in, that's the man Elliott told us about,”
“It is? I thought he’d be -”
“Just let him in!” The thin man turned, his hand dropping from the other’s shoulder.
"Very well," the ugly guard said, turning to open a small door that sat at the base of the gate.
Green archways and hedges sat mirrored on the left and right all littered with pink roses. The slight jostling of the guard’s armor added a rhythm to their walk to the palace door.
The perfume of blossoming roses hung like an invisible curtain in the air. As he passed through, his fingertips brushed against the velvety touch of a rose petal. Instinctively, he pinched his finger and mercilessly ripped it from the flower.
Standing before them was the imposing entrance adorned with floral patterns of metal that reflected the mountain sun. In no rush at all, the guard turned the ornate handle, allowing the door a steady reveal of the grandeur within. Large stairs ascended into a second floor that seemed to go on forever. Their polished shine reflecting the orange light of the candles all around.
Beneath the stairs sat several doors, hinting at a maze-like network of servants’ quarters, hidden away to the benefit of the aristocrats whose last desire is to see some filthy underling.
On either side of Aever, two hallways stretched out, their marble floors gleaming and their masterfully crafted stone walls rose to dizzying heights.
Several chandeliers hung from the ceiling, all with hundreds of candles dripping onto the ground. A scrawny servant sat below, constantly scrubbing at the endless candle wax dripping from above. Aever shook his head at the poor fool.
The guard, numb to the grand scene before them, took Aever through the right-hand hallway.
A small staircase sat at the end of the hallway. Atop the stairs appeared another grand door, an intricate depiction of the battle of Merth from the great war displayed on the wooden surface.
A soft glow crept out from the door while it swung open, candles cast their dull light, flickering all along the edges of the room. In the center of the room sat a large round table, its surface covered by a map of Forterre.
Frederick stood at the head of the table, his long shadow cast across the map. His orange eyebrows crinkled, his gaze shifting from one place to another on the map.
Next to the map sat little figurines, one a carriage, and two others: cavalry figures.
Beside Frederick stood the ever-frivolous Amon, dawned in a vile purple robe embroidered with gold stylized to look like flowers.
“Why the bloody hell would he want me there?” Frederick’s voice sneered. Aever had heard children with a more refined way of speaking than that brat. “Father told me to stay here, I have no intentions of attending that stupid gambit!”
“My esteemed lord, your family has played an indispensable role in creating the illustrious arena in Orlens. His majesty, in his sagacity, has expressed a fervent desire that Duke Frederick’s family be present during the first gambit. Moreover, Duke Frederick has graciously accepted.” Amon’s nasally voice scraped through the room, causing Aever’s sensitive ears to twitch with his annoying cadence.
“My lords, I’m sorry to interrupt, however you have a visitor,” the guard bowed his head slightly, as if mentioning Aever’s presence was a confession for some petty misdeed.
"Good heavens, is it that time already?" Frederick glanced at Aever, then quickly looked away while Aever gave him a contemptuous smile. "Amon, leave. I'll send for a carriage immediately. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of," Frederick said, flicking his hand at the man to dismiss him.
Amon’s miniscule eyes crossed Aever in a glare of disdain, as he pursed his already thin lips. It appeared the urge to say something was only barely repressed.
His gaze shifted to Frederick and he bowed. “Of course my lord,” he quickly scurried out of the room, leaving the scent of his filthy perfume. The guard quickly followed, shutting the door, leaving just Frederick and Aever in the room.
Frederick's red beard cast a slight shadow over his mouth, making it difficult to see his lips in the dim light. "I know you're a busy man, Aever," he said, "but I have a favor to ask."
“I must say I find it audacious to summon me here so suddenly, especially while I am this close to capturing Poitha’s apprentice,”
“It’s important, this will peak your interest,” Frederick contorted his face in thick contemplation, trying to choose his words carefully. A habit most men who conversed with Aever seemed to have. “My father and sister travel from Atheham to Orlens as we speak, as far as Amon has inclined they would have likely left some time this morning,”
“Frederick, I didn’t come here to act as your messenger,” Aever’s face morphed into a mask of skepticism. “If you’ve summoned me for a trivial task, I can happily teach you a lesson,”
“Just listen, please,” Frederick pleaded, raising his eyebrows. Aever rolled his eyes and with a slight sigh, he nodded. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me thus far, but if we want me in this throne, we must eliminate those who hold it.”
He grabbed the carriage and put it just east of Atheham, close to Coulver on his map. “If my father were to be attacked by the banditry near Coulver it would be beneficial to both of us.” Frederick took one of the horseman figures and swiped it at the chariot, knocking it to the ground with a muted tap.
Aever’s eyes followed the shape of the horse that had been set in its place. That wasn’t far from where that fat fool had summoned Poitha's apprentice. If he could orchestrate Frederick’s rise to power, and eliminate Leonard within a matter of days, it would be a masterstroke, one that would secure his father’s gratitude and tighten their grip on the realm for when he was to be summoned.
Aever licked his lips as his eyes followed the hind legs of the horse, its shadow dancing from the dull orange light. He could easily put August to his bidding, have Leonard arrested at the house of that fool who’s letter they intercepted. “Beneficial indeed,” Aever murmured, his words laced with the thrill of possibility. “I do not doubt my sister will enjoy this plan, but you know I must discuss it with her first,”
“Of course, Fava is your equal, my lord, I understand.” Frederick nodded. The candles of the room flickered as Aever fixed his gaze upon the shadow of the horse. It loomed over the village of Coulver, distorting with every movement of the candlelight.
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