Azari walked down the cold stone hallway of the castle, his hands swaying back and forth, as it to expend more pent up energy that wasn’t simply expended by the act of walking.
He was on his way back from meeting with his father. A conversation that had left him frustrated, perplexed, and slightly angry. His hands were jammed in the pockets of his trousers, his shirt was untucked, and his jacket was in disarray, only pulled on at all because he’d be much colder otherwise.
He’d been in the right. And yet here he was, reprimanded anyways. It wasn’t much of a punishment-simply paying what his father considered ‘reparations’ and administering an apology to the ruling family for his supposed transgression. His father was a man rooted in decades of tradition of being in power in Kislev. Frustratingly so.
He’d been in trouble for something stupid, again. Conducting himself poorly in a meeting he’d sat in on, by remarking on how boring it was that they couldn’t even make it any different from the last one. It was why he hated nobility, and counting himself a part of its numbers.
He navigated through the hallway, reaching the door and opening it, the cold air whipping him full force, biting as he traversed through the bit of snowfall, and an ice covered path which led from the castle, back down to the town proper. He had something else to do today.
He traversed downwards, down the winding path, and through the town, a few of the townsfolk greeting the gloomy looking boy from the castle as he passed by. But most ignored him as he headed through and straight to the outskirts, the snow coated woods.
He’d been leaving the town more lately. A direction each day.
He’d just hoped he hadn’t missed his rendezvous.
Thankfully, after his hour or so walk to the city outskirts, he looked up at what little of the sun could be seen, and confirmed that he hadn’t missed it. And it looked like his compatriots hadn’t either. Three people awaited in a clearing ahead, two men and a woman. They were still dressed normally, if slightly more flamboyantly then a normal peasant might. Actual color in their clothes, and positivity in their demeanors. It was working.
“No one was followed? Or been discovered?”
He put that statement out first every time he’d met any number of his…he could call them disciples.
The woman, her name being Belle, spoke up first.
“Nothing…though I nearly got asked some odd questions after I got a glimpse. Shrieked like I’d seen a dragon-”
He nodded to her, a small smile forming on his face.
“As long as it wasn’t cause for alarm, then we’re fine. Anything else?”
They all shook their heads.
“We’re getting close. This is the last aligning ritual, then we should be alright to just wait. Speaking of that, are we all ready?”
Everyone nodded, including Azari, who grinned, withdrawing a small knife, and whipping it around, slicing his finger. Dripping with sanguine implement, he began drawing in the snow. His followers did the same, forming the symbol of the divine of his choice with it. An orb with a jutting half covering and a crescent moon tip.
The ritual didn’t actually do anything. But the belief in it…
He looked up.
“Everyones been doing as the Prince demands, yes?”
They all nodded.
“Good. That will be all.”
Without another word, he turned to walk off. Leaving his followers to disperse, and head back to town. To continue to express their excess, and free themselves from the monotony.
It was what he lived for, now that his life had grown dull. Bringing forth freedom.
He returned to the town after more walking, moving back to the castle. No one greeted him this time, as he moved through the town, and up the path, and within the cold walls. The quickest path to his chambers saw him walking through the courtyard, which he did, a few nobles lingering about, but none acknowledging him. He was halfway across, lost in his own world, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, a voice calling out.
“Brother! Where have you been?”
Azari turned his head over, to be greeted with the face of his brother Krul. A man built like a bear, a head taller than him, the only resemblance between the two was their hair and eyes matching, both black and brown. He was the most tolerable member of the family, by far. Mostly in that he gave Azari the time of day, and sympathized with him on a base level.
He was about to respond to Krul, when he felt his vision shift. The courtyard around him crumbling away into a new scene. The sky above turned from the sunset orange, to an unnatural purple and red.
The people around him were screaming, laughing, crying, crumbling to the ground in a cacophony of excessive madness.
His brother had maintained his position. Hand on his shoulder, but a gauntlet instead of flesh. Blood red armor donning his body, dotted with skulls and spikes. A helmet adorned on his head, an axe over his shoulder. His voice still came through, just distorted.
“Azari, are you alright?”
He looked down at himself. His form had changed. Rather than prim and formal attire, a set of leather armor, though cut to leave his stomach and most of his legs exposed to open air. A pair of finely crafted and coiled whips at his side. His form had changed too. More feminine, less masculine, but still a mix of the two. He liked it. A grin slowly formed on his face.
But a moment later, it snapped away. His vision whips back to the normal scene. But now, Azari was grinning, ear to ear.
His brother looked concerned. So Azari just shook his head.
“I’m alright.”
He broke off the shoulder clasp, and walked for his quarters.
His day made.
Kindling And Miscellany 