Six of Ruin (Heirs of Irenwell #1)
Chapter 9: Meet the Men

The journey from Irenwell to Bastia took eight whole days. We arrived during night. And I was done with journeys, carriages and bad food for the rest of my life.

Still, there was a way longer trip ahead. Even colder, even tougher.

The door of the carriage opened and a gush of cold air immediately scratched my skin. I clutched the fur coat tighter, let out the most exasperated sigh to prove a point and put my tiny silver shoes on the stony pathway.

Danilo eyed my pretty heels, “You have to wear something warmer.”

“Why?” I giggled. “Did you want to help pick my outfit?”

“Irina.” He warned. “We’re here. Behave.”

“Boring.” I mumbled, grabbed the hem of my dress and stepped out of the carriage.

The sight that appeared in front of me was magnificent. A huge block of stone, with houses carved into the edges, stood on a hill in the middle of the mountain area. Balconies and terraces circled the entire thing and in between, thousands of stony stairs climbed all the way to the top. And there, a tall, proud castle stood right under the cloud-covered sky. Dark blue banners with a white reindeer waved from each level.

Stone walls circled the entire massive block, with huge wooden doors as the gate, guarded by fully armed men. The door opened for us and Danilo led me through. He didn’t particularly stand out here, just another strong, brooding man.

But I stood out. My dress was way too colourful and way too revealing. I was the only one with flowers in my hair, decorating my silver crown. Women here wore a lot of fur and leather. Women in Irenwell wore silk and satin. This colour palate included black, brown and grey. Their faces were rougher and edgier, their hands weren’t as soft as mine and their eyes were meaner and full of some unfamiliar anger.

People around here have seen dangers looming outside of palaces, away from mesmerizing fruits and gorgeous ladies. If life were a person, they would have seen its dark side.

And they were prepared to face it at all times. Their tense muscles proved their strength, their posture shouted perseverance and their weapons promised death.

People gathered in front of their houses as we walked ahead. Their looks fell on me, but there was no respect in their dark eyes. Suddenly, I was way too self-aware for a princess.

I moved closer to Danilo and let him lead me down the pathway to the first set of stairs.

“Are we going all the way up?”

He nodded.

I looked up. The castle was so far away I could barely see the top from where I was standing. A couple of clouds passed next to it, blocking the view.

Wonderful.

The stairs seemed endless and I was not in good shape. I had to stop twice just to breathe in the air so cold it burned my lungs. By the time we reached the top, I was completely out of breath, squeezing Danilo’s hand and in desperate need of water.

Danilo and his men looked at me with concern. Probably wondering how would I ever survive the trip to Orathia. I was wondering the same thing.

And then I glanced around.

A landscape spread out in front of me. Mountains covered the entire area, some reaching the clouds, some breaking through the white puffs in the sky, others looming underneath. The mountaintops were bare, nothing but solid rock dipped in snow, but the lower hills cultivated pines, firs and spruces. Bare rock intertwined with evergreen leaves.

I glanced down. Dozens of houses came into view, impossibly small in the distance. It was a long way down.

Some clouds were at the same level as the castle, others underneath, partially blocking my view. I spread out my hand, trying to touch a cloud, which made Danilo laugh.

“King Bernard the First built the castle up in the sky, above the cloud limit, because his wife complained Bastia didn’t get enough sunshine.” He said.

I smiled, “The only kind of king I would tolerate.”

“Come on,” he cocked his head towards the entrance to the castle, “they’re expecting us.”

The entrance was open, leading to an open square, with a fountain and a statue in the middle and stone benches around.

Fear coursed through my veins and once again, I thought they should have taken my brother in my stead. I barely climbed up the stairs, how would I ever make it even further north?

I swallowed the nervousness, kept close to Danilo, and made my way through the double door which led to the great hall of Bastia.

Despite my reluctance, I had to admit whoever did their interior design, did an amazing job. The throne was carved out of black marble. Moonlight spilled all over it, creating an illusion of sparkling. The entire hall was white and grey. And the ceiling was decorated with pictures chiselled in all shades of grey, depicting some sort of story.

Danilo pointed up, “It’s a story of Bastia. Right above the throne is a picture of Bastians defeating the mages, as you make your way to the door, you will see all the major wars, including the Firiyan War and the Silver and White War against Irenwell.”

I stared in awe at the pictures. Men in battle, depictions of reindeers, weapons and, of course, the Bastian god, Is, the god of ice.

A deep, guttural voice startled me, “Danilo, my favourite nephew!”

The man that appeared next to the throne was obese. His face was puffed and huge, his belly dropped over his leather belt and when he moved, he rocked from side to side. A massive crown sat on top of his head. A white thing, covered in diamonds, larger than any crown I’ve ever seen.

Two heavily armoured men stood next to him, seemingly smaller than the large king.

King Bernard’s expression was jolly, but it may have been due to roundness. His entire head looked like a huge ball. His dark eyes were wide open, staring over his puffy cheek. There seemed to be no malice in his grin.

Danilo dropped on his knee and I curtsied.

“And what’s this little thing?” He laughed in my general direction. “Of all the Irenwell offspring, you bring a female? What, Rodrig decided he was too green for a place covered with ice?” Another short laugh, “Oh, well, nothing we can do about it now. Come, meet the men.”

And that was it, he waddled away, barely passing through the doors left of the throne. I looked at Danilo, my eyes gleaming with questions.

Danilo shook his head, “Do not worry about him. He’s... peculiar.”

I was nervous all over as we walked out again and passed over the stone bridge that spread over the cliffy pit. I could barely see the bottom, and a sudden fear made me lift my head up. And there, in the sky, was the Star of Orath. The brightest star in the northern sky, but apparently, still quite distant.

Mountaintops covered in ice extended its peaks towards the star.

And I realised, he was here. This was the sky he was staring at.

Turmoil turned my stomach upside down. The cold suddenly burned through my fur robe and my thin dress. I gripped the fence, feeling dizzy and sluggish.

Danilo was by my side in a second, “Your Grace?”

I breathed in the cold air, trying to prepare myself for whatever lands of Bastia might offer. There was nothing I could do about it now.

I nodded, “Let’s go.”

The door we reached revealed a warmer, cosier room, but almost as large as the great hall, full of wood and pillows. Depictions of battle and reindeers and mountains were either carved or embroidered into every piece of furniture. The stone fireplace was lit. King Bernard managed to hop into the large, comfortable chair behind the massive oak table.

“Sit, have some ale.” The king put both his hands around his mouth and roared, “Hilda, bring some ale! Quick! Ale! Hilda!”

The king unclasped his belt and let out a sound of relief.

An equally obese lady appeared on the other end of the room, with a grin circling her head and a large platter full of wooden flagons resting in her hand. Quickly, she hopped over and dropped the platter before the king, fixed her brown curls and turned around. Before she left, however, the king slapped her behind.

I let out a chuckle, which, of course, ran into Danilo’s disapproval.

“Now,” the king grabbed the flagon, “Let us meet the boys.” And he shouted again, “Hilda, the boys! Hilda!”

I glanced towards Danilo and witnessed the sharp intake of breath and the crease between his brows. Sweat began to protrude under my armpits through the thin dress. The room was way too warm for a fur coat, but if I took it off, I’d feel too exposed.

A small figure appeared at the frame of the open door. My eyebrows rose at the sight of the tiny, child-like boy with large, round eyes and green skin. The hair around his scalp was also green, but transformed into a blondish shade nearing the roots.

Danilo slightly leaned towards me, “He’s a floran. From the Isles of Shira.”

The green-skinned boy wore a beige linen shirt and pants, and there seemed to be something hidden beneath the fabric of his arms and legs. A large, heavy belt sat around his waist, full of all kinds of stuff. Knives, potions, a carrot peeking out, piece of scroll, and small round objects whose function I didn’t know. When he moved, he clanked and jingled.

Florans weren’t human, they were a different species; small, quick and green-skinned. Legends said they blossomed out of flowers in the fertile jungles of Shira.

“Hello, hello!” The green-skinned boy chirped. “Ah, if I’d known springs in Bastia were clothed in ice, I would have thought about joining you twice.”

King Bernard chuckled, “Do not lie, you little rascal!”

“I shan’t.” The boy approached. “I’m here for the money.”

I turned to Danilo, “We get paid?”

“Not you, Princess.” The green-skinned boy kneeled in front of me, took my hand and placed a kiss on the top, mischief glinting in his round, innocent eyes. “You are here because of the debt. My name is Nick the Deathbringer, at your service.”

I smiled, “Isn’t that a little bit on the nose?”

“His name is Nick the Nickeltinker!” King Bernard let out a laugh. “I like him the best.”

Nickeltinker rolled his eyes and pulled himself off the floor.

Danilo eyed the little guy, “And what is his role?”

“Oh, I’ve many skills, Sir.” The mock in his voice made me smile. “Princess, are you missing something?”

My head snapped at him and my eyes widened. On instinct, I touched my head. The crown wasn’t there. Nickeltinker smiled and pulled the silver crown from behind his back.

I gasped, Danilo stepped forward and King Bernard let out a throaty laugh, “Give the crown back to the girl, you devilish imp.”

Nickeltinker placed the jewel in my waiting hands.

The king took in a sharp breath and put both of his hands around his mouth again, “Hilda! Hilda, where is Rixen? Hilda!”

Nickeltinker turned towards the door, a sudden frown framing his face. Danilo’s expression distorted, as well, and I knew the name King Bernard uttered meant trouble.

Rixen of Orathia, King Bernard’s bastard son was joining us on this journey. My brother’s warnings resonated through my mind and my sweat turned cold.

A few moments later, a large figure appeared in front of the open door. I gasped despite myself when the man had to duck down to pass through the frame. His legs were large and muscled, veins spreading underneath the skin, as well as scars, some fresh, some old, some deeper and some shallow. Leather boots were on his feet, twice as large as mine, and a piece of leather covered his loins.

“Is that Rixen?” The words left my mouth in whispers.

“Him?” King Bernard shook his head. “No, this is Torvald, Rixen’s bodyguard.” His voice was filled with disgust.

The large man’s torso was naked, except for the gauntlets on his massive hands and the strap across his chest, which held the double axe in place on his back. It was pitch black, even the edges were made out of black steel, and it stuck to the door when he tried to pass.

Each time he made a step, a tremor reverberated through the stony floor. His entire body was covered in scars, including his face, which was fierce and large and sharp.

His eyes were dark and empty.

A guttural voice shook the room as he spoke, “Hmm, Torvald. Uh.”

“He should be useful,” The king mumbled, pouring the contents of his flagon in his mouth, “There is nothing this guy cannot lift or move.” And he put his hand to his lips, like he was whispering a secret. “Apparently, he’s half-giant.”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded, my wide eyes still taking in Torvald’s mere proportions.

The brute eyed all of us as he came even closer, not bothering to kneel or introduce himself properly. In the corner of my eye, I noticed Danilo’s hand looming over his sword.

I turned to Danilo and whispered, “This brute is the King’s son’s bodyguard?”

“Bastard son.” Danilo corrected me. “Yes.”

Thankfully, the king was too busy shouting and getting disproportionally angry to bother paying attention to me, “Where is Rixen? Why is he always late? Damn him to hell!”

Torvald grunted.

King Bernard lifted his huge figure off the puffy chair, his cheeks turning red and purple, and began walking back and forth.

That was when a figure, hidden in shadow, stumbled through the door, hitting it in the process, almost tripping over his own feet, “Excuse me.” He spoke to the door.

Danilo shook his head in dissatisfaction and growled something under his breath.

My eyes, however, were fixated on the tall, lean figure, dressed in a dark grey satin tunic and pants, so unlike anything people wore in Bastia. His hair was onyx-black. There was something boyish in his thin lips, his taunting smile and his golden-yellow eyes. A cloud of blackness surrounded him; almost like he carried the shadows with him wherever he went.

It was him. The man through whose eyes I sometimes watched the world.

And he was drunk off his ass.

He barely held himself upright as he staggered towards the middle of the room.

Danilo turned towards King Bernard, distraught in his eyes, “He’s wasted?!”

“Calm your tits,” The man slurred, “Distress does not become you.”

Finally, he looked at me. And through the haze and the shadows, I saw recognition flicker in his yellow eyes. A barely audible gasp escaped my lips.

He was beautiful; in a wildish, unrefined sort of way. My vision blurred, pain burst through my temples and as I opened my eyes, I saw myself through his eyes. I gripped the armchair, my heartbeat accelerating, making me both nervous and afraid.

His thoughts ran through my mind. Goddamn, why does she have to be so beautiful?

Through his eyes, I looked good, really good. I wasn’t like the other Bastian ladies. I was far gentler and more elegant.

The same sort of fear coursed through our veins.

Before my own body pulled me out, I learned something else. He wasn’t drunk, no, he was acting.

I blinked a couple of times, replaceing myself back where I belonged, watching the world from my own eyes.

Rixen smiled, letting me know we were, as of now, sharing a secret.