The sun had risen a long time ago. But the sky is eerily black with cumulonimbus clouds falling over it like a bride's veil. The vultures and crows are flying over in the sky in search of their prey.
Amidst them all stands the grand castle like a tombstone in a graveyard. It is made in granite, giving itself a pitch-black texture which ironically has a beautiful architecture.
It is, perhaps, the formidable kingdom of Drakmore. Yielding the shadow ability users for over thousands of years, this kingdom is feared by many. But this fearfulness has also created an isolation of emotions and warmth.
The man hidden in black cloak approaches the castle doors only to be stopped by the knights.
"And who might you be?" One of the knights asks him.
The man doesn't say anything at first but looks up at his face. His own face wrapped in a bandana. Gray eyes holding death in them.
"Regis iussu. Mora mortem parit."
The words land low and final. The knights share glances with each other. And in no time, the huge castle-door opens.
The masked man wastes no time in sharing another word before stepping inside.
"Prey, tell. Which deer has been hunted?" A low-drawl of a velvety voice comes from the man sitting on the throne which was placed upon a fifty steps marble stair. Only the shadow of his silhouette is visible in the dimly lit throne room.
There was no doubt that he's the king and the question was directed at the man in black cloak and bandana.
The man places his fisted hand upon his chest and replies, "Hostid iam primum movit."
The silent room goes silent again. Then a burst of laughter comes out of the king's throat.
"The enemy has already moved first, you say?" He says and laughs more. Then—
Flick
His laughter dies and his eyes light up neon. A predator's eyes after smelling the scent of its prey.
"Tell me more. Velmora is quite the bold one. Taking steps before Drakmore—before me, the great Zarvon Vornhal.. tsktsk."
"They've offered an alliance to the king of Sylvaris, maiestastuas." The man said. "The crown prince has been personally sent to see the matter."
"Hmm. An alliance, huh?" Zarvon chuckles. "An alliance offered to the diplomatic kingdom? Suspicious move."
He stands up and paces around the throne. His face is still hidden in the dark.
"What do you say we should do?" He asks the man.
The man thinks for a while before answering. And when he does, Zarvon stops pacing.
"You should make a greater impact than the alliance, maiestastuas. Sylvaris has a princess."
Zarvon looks at the man for a moment, his eyes still glowing. Then slowly, he starts walking down the steps.
It takes him a full minute to come face to face with the man. His own face is now visible in the faint light.
A deadly handsome face with invincible features. Black hair and amber eyes that glow in the dark. His preternatural face was that of kind, where the more you stare, the more eerie it becomes.
"You never disappoint me, Lacrum." Zarvon speaks closer to his ear. "Go there with my word."
_____________________
At the Sylvaris Castle
King Edvan was holding an envelope in his hand. His expression is blank. Crown prince Alaric is sitting beside him, holding his head in his hands.
"What are you thinking further for, father?" He asks, impatient with Edvan's silence. The throne room was empty except for them.
"Just write a rejection letter and shut their mouth!" Alaric says again.
"You think they will stay put after getting a rejection?" Edvan speaks up after another minute of silence.
"What more can they do than declare a war? And you better know, father, whose knights are more than capable to win. Just reject this proposal already!"
"Don't lose your temper Alaric. We're still a diplomatic kingdom."
"You care about your diplomacy more than your daughter?" Alaric's voice drops to a degree. "The first news in the morning comes is that a letter has been sent from Drakmore. And about what—a marriage proposal between that mad king and my sister! All this because an alliance was offered by Velmora. Now who other than Velmora can we blame for this?!"
Alaric stands up. His adrenaline has badly taken over him this time.
Edvan stares in void. His aged up face has hardened. It has been decades since their diplomacy had fallen to a question. But never had it included his daughter. His strategies had become old. But he believes they are strong enough to protect both.
"Send a letter to Velmora." He says in an indifferent tone.
Alaric looks confused. "Why?"
"Propose a marriage between Aelira and crown prince Kael."
"...."
Alaric's eyes widened. He looks at his father with disbelief.
"What are you saying father! This won't do any help but make you the seeker for an ally! You can't—"
"Add one condition to this proposal." Edvan's voice drops to a degree, vapour could turn into ice. He looks at his son. And Alaric has never seen that deadly look on his usually soft father.
"Ask them to make it look like it were them who approached us with the proposal along with the alliance."
Alaric stands there still. He wants to believe it's not real, he wants to believe it's all just a nightmare. But the sunlight that spills through the window and falls onto face, adding a warm sensation to his rage, proves him wrong.