Vengeance Through Passion

The soft sound of moans reverberated off the cold stone walls, growing louder and more numerous with every breath. The air was thick with the heady scent of sweat and flesh, a scent that clung to the senses like a veil, refusing to be lifted. The dim light from a few scattered candles flickered over the scene, casting wavering shadows over the entwined bodies. There were too many to count, women laying across the silk sheets in various states of undress, their bare skin glowing in the candlelight. At the center of them all, Ravenscar, the younger brother of Lord Blackwell, reclined like a sated lion in his den, his large hands lazily massaging his lower body as if he had just finished a particularly arduous task.

The door creaked open slightly, and a woman-eyes wild and hair disheveled-slipped through the gap, running out of the room as if fleeing a nightmare. She clutched a torn robe to her chest, disappearing down the corridor without a backward glance. The heavy wooden door swung wider, revealing the scene to Caelric and Arthur.

Arthur, his eyes still too untested for such a sight, froze in place. Caelric, ever quick on his feet, immediately covered Arthur's eyes with his hand, his lips pursed in an attempt to suppress a sigh.

"Art, stay back."

Arthur didn't move. Slowly, he reached up to remove Caelric's hand, his curiosity getting the better of him. Caelric shot him a warning glance, but Arthur's attention was already captured by the grotesque tableau before him.

In the center of the room, Ravenscar took a long, deliberate sip from a goblet as milky liquid dripped down the sides, staining the white furs beneath him. He let out a deep sigh of satisfaction, oblivious or uncaring to the men who had now entered his private quarters. Arthur's eyes widened at the sight, and his stomach turned violently. Unable to hold back, he staggered to the side and retched against the stone wall, his entire body heaving as his breakfast splattered on the floor.

Caelric grimaced, pulling a face that mirrored Arthur's revulsion. "Why didn't you warn me?" Arthur managed to gasp between retches, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

Caelric raised an eyebrow, shaking his head as he looked away from the mess. "It's not like you've never seen a naked woman in your life, Art... or anything of this nature." His voice held a faint amusement, though his eyes were already scanning the room for something less debauched to focus on.

Arthur stared at him, utterly confused, his face pale.

"You haven't?" Caelric continued, his lips curling into a smirk. "Why do I even ask?"

Ravenscar finally noticed the two men hovering just inside the doorway. He made no effort to cover himself, his tall, muscular frame on full display, the golden glow of candlelight illuminating his bronzed skin. He tipped his head back, letting out a loud, rumbling laugh that echoed around the chamber. Taking another sip from his goblet, he waved them forward lazily, his fingers twirling the goblet's stem like a toy.

"What is it, boys?" His voice was deep, the kind of voice that seemed to vibrate in the chest, making the listener feel small and insignificant.

Caelric cleared his throat, stepping forward while Arthur remained outside the threshold, still trying to gather his composure. "Uncle, Father has asked me to call you to the meeting room. It's about the missing women cases."

Ravenscar rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh, waving his hand dismissively. "A little privacy wouldn't hurt, boy. Can't you see I'm busy?"

Caelric gave a sharp nod, his tone unwavering as he continued. "Right, Uncle. I understand your plight-truly, I do. But you see, I don't think Father would." His voice carried a note of sarcasm, his eyes flicking toward the scattered women.

Ravenscar's brow furrowed in thought for a moment, his lips pursing in irritation. "Vincent? Where is he?"

"No idea," Caelric replied nonchalantly. "And what is Arthur doing behind the door?"

Arthur's complexion was ghostly pale. "Oh, Art... He is, um, well..." Caelric began, trailing off as he glanced back at Arthur with a wry smile.

Arthur strolled forward, his legs stiff, and bowed deeply. "Greetings, sire," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

Ravenscar waved him off with a lazy flick of his wrist, clearly uninterested in formalities. "Let's go," he said with a heavy sigh, pulling a deep crimson robe from the bedpost and wrapping it around himself in a swift, practiced motion. He made no further comment as he strode past the two younger men, his presence filling the room with an almost tangible weight. Together, they headed toward the main palace, the sound of Ravenscar's bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor the only sound in the otherwise silent corridor.

Meanwhile, across the bustling city of Zephyriion, Aricia strolled alone, her boots kicking up small clouds of dust as she wandered aimlessly through the narrow streets. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the marketplace. It was a familiar path, one she had taken many times before, but today it felt different-unsettling, even. The last time she had walked these streets, she had been fifteen, full of youthful innocence and dreams, before she had moved to Vireth. That seemed like a lifetime ago now.

"An engagement ceremony?" she muttered to herself, her lips twisting into a scowl. She could hear the faint sound of bells in the distance, signaling yet another grand event at one of the city's many noble estates. "Those barbaric people hope to hold an engagement ceremony while the whole world is under a state of emergency."

She hissed under her breath. Thoughts swirled in her mind, each one darker than the last. Whose engagement was it this time? There was always a wedding, a celebration, something to distract the people from the chaos around them. But to Aricia, it all felt like a mockery-a grotesque parody of joy in a world that was falling apart.

"Hello there!" A man's voice interrupted her brooding thoughts, startling her. She jumped slightly, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger hidden beneath her cloak. She glanced up to see a man waving at her from the gates of Xylaris, the capital city. His smile was wide, and his manner casual, as if he hadn't noticed the dark cloud hanging over her.

"Are you one of the workers?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he eyed her curiously. Aricia hesitated, unsure how to respond. Before she could answer, the man turned and called out over his shoulder. "Oi, Art! Do you have a record of the workers coming in today?"

Arthur appeared from behind a large wooden table, a scroll clutched in one hand. His outfit was modest-simple brown leather tunic, trousers, and a thick belt from which a dagger hung. His boots were dusty from travel, and his hair, a light brown, was tousled as if he had been running his hands through it repeatedly in frustration. His deep-set eyes, however, gave him an air of seriousness that did not quite match his disheveled appearance.

Aricia's heart skipped a beat when she saw him. She hadn't expected to see him here. Would he remember her? They had only met once before, briefly at that.

Arthur moved slowly toward her, his gaze focused on the scroll in his hand. "Name, please?" he asked, his voice formal, though there was a hint of weariness in his tone.

"A... ahh, Ricia. It's Ricia. Cia for short. Actually, no... It's just Ricia," she stammered, her nerves betraying her as she scratched the back of her neck awkwardly.

Arthur blinked, his eyes flicking up from the scroll to meet hers for a brief moment. Recognition flared in his gaze, but he quickly looked back down. "Oh," he muttered under his breath.

"Caelric," Arthur called out, turning slightly. "Could you get me the second scroll?"

Aricia's brow furrowed. She had never heard that name before-Caelric. Was he someone important? He seemed close to Arthur. She made a mental note to ask Freya about him when she returned from Vireth.

Caelric returned a moment later, carrying another scroll in his hand. Arthur unrolled it carefully, scanning the names with precision. "What's your name again?" he asked without looking up.

"Ricia," she repeated, her voice a little steadier this time.

"I see," Arthur replied. "I don't see your name on the list."

"Uhm, that might be because I did not register as per the due date. But I was referenced by Oswald, sir," she said quickly, hoping the name would carry some weight.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oswald?"

Aricia scratched the back of her hair, an unconscious gesture that betrayed her growing unease. It seemed nothing had gone smoothly for her lately, and the confusion surrounding her registration only added to her frustration. Her nerves were already frayed, and the weight of the current situation made her all the more anxious.

"Who might that be?" Arthur's voice cut through her thoughts, his tone as flat as ever. He didn't seem swayed by her nervousness.

Rick, on the other hand, rolled his eyes and scowled at Arthur's response. "Why are you so rigid, man? She must be telling the truth. Whoever this Wald person is, we can figure it out later. All this questioning is making me hungry."

Arthur didn't flinch. "No, it is part of the formalities," he replied, as he continued to scroll through the names on the parchment.

Just then, a sudden commotion erupted in the distance. A trail of horses skidded to a halt at the other gate, their hooves kicking up dust in the air. They were too far for Aricia to recognize the riders, but she had a feeling they were important.

At that very moment, Caelric jolted forward as if something had caught his attention. He peered into the distance, eyes narrowing as though trying to discern something the others couldn't see. Without a word, he vaulted over the rail and hurried off. "I'll be back," he called over his shoulder, leaving Aricia and Arthur behind.

Arthur remained focused, and Aricia's attention snapped back to him as her mind raced. Could Oswald have deceived her? What was there for him to gain by sending her here unregistered? She felt a cold sweat break out along her spine, but she shook the thought away.

"Give me a moment," Arthur said, his voice calm yet firm. "I need to check with the registrar who this Oswald might be." Arthur turned and walked off with surprising speed. Aricia had never seen him move that fast, as though some invisible force were driving him.

Before she could process everything, a girl suddenly appeared behind her, grabbing her hand. "You must be one of the new servants!" the girl exclaimed, tugging Aricia along without waiting for a reply.

Aricia, still in shock, barely registered what was happening. The girl moved swiftly, and Aricia struggled to keep up, her mind a blur. "Wait, excuse me, ma'am. You are... mistaken!" Aricia managed to call out, her voice shaky.

The girl slowed down slightly and turned to face her. "It's Lady Nyph," she corrected with a casual air. "Daughter of Lord Blackwell."

Aricia blinked, the name registering in her mind. Lady Nyph? She had heard the name before but never in person. And now she was being dragged into the palace without understanding why.

"What am I mistaken about?" Lady Nyph asked, stopping abruptly, her curious eyes locking on Aricia's face.

"Oh... never mind," Aricia muttered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

'Why did I say that?' The words had tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, and now she felt utterly foolish.

Lady Nyph raised an eyebrow but didn't pr

ess further. With a small huff, she led Aricia through the grand gates of Xylaris and into the palace.