The Land Below our Feet III (Legacy)

GONE

-Ugh, I know you can’t do anything about his presence, Mother, but does he also have to walk so close to us? – Dahro complained to his mother with visible annoyance as the foggy outline of his birth city appeared on the horizon, and he stole yet another contemptuous glance towards the young stranger that had been persistently following their steps throughout the muddy road.

-Oh, please! That poor kid has been a mile away the entire time! – Yarinthza replied, dismissively rolling her eyes – Why are you being such an insufferable brat?

-Because I don’t understand why you let those people step all over you with their arbitrary impositions time after time! – The boy angrily responded – And now you are welcoming their filthy spy even when they treat us like trash!

-Un-f*****g-believable! – The monarch furiously barked, briefly stopping her march to grab her son by the hand and discreetly lean towards his ear – You should be thankful that they still included us in this deal, considering what you did! So, drop the conspiracy theories, would you? That young man is not a spy!

-Then why did they specifically choose to send a Nevarehan when they could have sent anybody else? – Dahro boldly retorted – Don’t you dare to tell me that this isn’t Favena´s way of keeping you in check!

-And rightfully so! – Yarinthza spat out – You can’t seriously blame her for wanting to secure the success of our business transaction, can you?

-Why him, though? – The prince arrogantly puffed out. Eyeing the oblivious foreigner up and down – why does he get to be in charge when he is clearly a child?

-Well… Maybe his mother does trust him enough to handle something as important as this – The Xiblenean bitterly remarked, quickening her pace a bit, and putting some distance between her and her son.

-He doesn’t even look like a Nevarehan at all! – Dahro continued saying, keeping up with his progenitor and deliberately ignoring her snide implications – He is as hairy as a wolf!

-Must be his Cahenean roots… They say he is his father's spitting image – Yarinthza carelessly shrugged off.

-Which is just another euphemism for “bastard prince” – The Xiblenean boy acridly commented. But the venom oozing from his voice couldn’t quite disguise the underlying jealousy in his tone.

-Don’t let him hear you – The ruler advised him as she eagerly advanced to the city gates, leaving him behind again – Cause I’m in no mood to save your ass today.

Despite the Xiblenean´s claims, their guest’s appearance was far from being childlike. In fact, even when he was indeed a couple of years younger than him, the Nevarehan's large, muscled frame and his fully bearded face made him seem like a grown adult… a very intimidating one.

Because if Dahro was right about something, it was that the boy was incredibly hairy, and also, extremely buff. So, it was not surprising that he felt such aversion and envy about the evident contrast with his lanky looks and glabrous skin every time he found his sight being magnetically pulled towards the Nevarehan prince.

But Prince Kholut´s annoying presence was the least of the many issues that kept him in the sourest of moods and plotting his next scheme these days, as he strongly disagreed with the way his mother had been handling things.

“We have an entire arsenal at our disposal and all you want to do is head back home and sit tight, following the orders of that slut and her arrogant man!” – He had repeatedly urged her in disbelief the morning they started marching towards Xiblen to no avail – “We should be taking advantage of those guns now that we can! Don´t you see! We own a load of firearms!”

“But so does everyone else, you genius!” – Yarinthza had loudly mocked him – “And that arrogant man is right about something. Those guns are completely useless unless you know how to fire them. You should have at least learned that by now!”

“Exactly!” – Dahro had growled offendedly in response – “So, why sending just a handful of pricks and a clueless kid to instruct us on such a vital affair? It is awfully disrespectful, and it makes me feel like they don’t even care!”

“Oh, I’m sorry you feel that way, Your Grace” – His mother had scoffed that day – “If you wish to be treated with respect, maybe you should think twice before taking a crap all over what’s left of our dignity next time.”

Yet Dahro didn’t share his mother’s opinion, and certainly didn’t feel guilty about what he had done back at Lowland’s gate at all. He was angry about being left out. Yes. But he didn’t think that what the rebels had done was wrong, not one bit. In fact, he was the strongest believer in the cause… if not the only one at that point.

Something in that compelling discourse of theirs had resonated so deep within him and kept on ringing inside his mind since that fateful night, that despite the blatant treason, he still was unable to resist the need to go looking for those ungrateful renegades.

After the rebellion’s failed coup attempt, the group had quickly disbanded and dispersed, but he had little trouble finding Kaionte sitting in the back of the rickety tavern as he licked his wounds hidden in the shadows, alone and half-drunk.

“I didn’t know that they served alcohol to minors in here” – Dahro had commented as his casual greeting while he heavily slumped on the wooden bench before him.

“They serve whoever has the coin to pay, Your Grace” – Kai had boredly replied after recovering from his initial astonishment, raising his pint invitingly at him – “Do you wish to try some? It is f*****g disgusting, but it gets the job done.”

“Where's Elhyna?” – The Xiblenean prince had wondered out aloud instead. Ignoring the local boy’s suggestion and drumming his fingers on the filthy table between them.

“She’s gone” – Kaionte had bitterly sniffled, avidly chugging the rest of his ale while his eyes were clouded partially by the momentary lack of air – “She went to Midland’s gate a few weeks ago. They say there’s an Argantean settlement there, whose members started out as slaves, but their descendants are now living among the rest”.

“So, she figured that was the best place for her to continue to stir the pot and sow some dissidence” – Dahro had deduced with a knowing smirk – “Why didn’t you go with her then?”

“Because I don’t hate those people as much as she does” – Kai indifferently shrugged off – “And because I don’t believe they are the real problem here either, I never did”.

“So, eliminating them would have been just a means to an end for you, just like I was… You never really cared.” – Dahro amusedly chuckled – “May I ask who you truly hate?”

“Oh, HATE is a very strong word” – The Lowlander calmly responded, waving his hand – “A very passionate one as well! I wouldn’t call it that… But you don’t need to hate something to want it gone, do you?”

“I agree” – The Prince had acknowledged with genuine amusement and a malicious grin – “And perhaps you and I can figure out a way to deal with the inconveniences that have been vexing our lives so far”.

Sadly, even if Ashrae´s presence had never tainted her son’s heart, his ideology somehow had, and no matter how hard Yarinthza had tried to keep him away from it, it had inevitably found its way into his mind.

She had spent all those years trying to rebuild Xiblen and undo the harm her husband had once done, but while some viewed that as a virtue, others perceived it as a simple lack of spine.

No matter how badly they had suffered, and how hungry they had all been when under the tyrant’s regime, memory has a strange way of misremembering things, and nowadays, there was a crescent unspoken yearn for the times when the sole mention of their realm was a synonym of fear.

Regardless of the queen’s best efforts, those whispered opinions had gradually grown into a deafening roar, and there was little that she could have done to shelter her son from them at that point.

Yarinthza had been running away from her past for so long, trying to leave it all behind, but ironically, the past has a funny way to always come back.

And now, as she obliviously headed to tend to her royal duties, her offspring and the guest that had been secretly smuggled right under her nose hid in his chambers behind closed doors, brushing the dust off the metallic souvenir that the prince had unearthed without her knowledge before they had started marching home.

Because as much as she had done her best to raise a loving son, there was an undeniable and painful truth behind the rebel's words... He didn’t need to hate her to want her gone.