Note: Chapter marked NSFW for graphic gore. Viewer discretion is advised.
Chapter 76:
Dum vivimus, vivamus – While we live, let us live
Having been sent to rest by Emmeline, Silas stepped inside his childhood home, feeling a sense of loss as he stared at the familiar surroundings, all intact. Silas felt sudden nostalgia as he stared at his familiar surroundings. The walls, the rugs, the furniture. He was home. Everything was as it should be. The memories of his burning home were just an illusion, a startling nightmare. Though he felt odd, Silas felt the walls and smelled the air. The warmth of the home was just the same, filled with a cozy air of family and the fresh smell of summer lilies. If he could touch the things around him, did they not make them real? The eerie sensation he felt was just a feeling. A symptom of his fatigue.
Silas looked around the small sitting room before he grasped the wooden railing of the stairs and walked up, feeling the strength slowly draining from his legs. The wooden steps creaked and groaned just as they always did as he stepped up each one, reaching the top before he staggered into his small bedroom, walking through his open doorway before he fell face first onto his bed.
I never want to leave. Silas thought to himself weakly, closing his eyes as he laid his forehead on the soft quilt on his bed. As the exhaustion of the day overwhelmed him, he eventually fell asleep, listening to the sounds of the forest quiet lull him into a restful, peaceful sleep.
…
Waking up from his short nap, Silas’s nose was full of the scent of fresh food and the sound of clattering plates and silverware. Blurry, he sat up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, momentarily forgetting where he was as he asked himself, Where am I? Staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, there was a startling shock passing through him. As Silas sat up, he then woke up completely, his face turning red slightly as the embarrassment in his chest grew, quickly realizing, That’s right. I’m back in my room. Looking at his hands, Silas shook his head and threw the quilt partially covering him away and stood up.
The sky was already tinted red, and the soft light poured in through the window next to Silas’s bed, lighting up part of Silas’s figure as he stood by the door, looking back at his old bedroom with one last melancholic stare before he stepped out of the room and began to make his way down the stairs to the kitchen, following the smell of food.
“Finally awake, sleepy head?” Emmeline asked as Silas stepped into the kitchen, a large smile on her face. Silas wordlessly smiled in response, bending his head slightly as Emmeline reached up to smooth the messy hair on top of his head with gentle brushes of her fingers. Once the cowlick in his hair was smoothed, she lowered her hand and then grabbed Silas’s arm and led him to the table, seating him between her and Maeir. “Why don’t you sit here? We’ve already prepared a plate for you. And the firewood you cut earlier is already being used.” A plate of bread, cheese, and a steaming slice of vegetable pie had already been prepared and placed on the table in front of Silas, bursting with the rich aroma of freshness. In the corner, a warm fire was roaring in the fireplace, warming the small, cozy room.
Silas picked up his silverware as the others began to sit, serving out food to the others around the table, not beginning to eat until everyone had been served. The dinner was rowdy and loud, but it brought back the feeling of warmth Silas had missed the past few years, when he ate his meals alone. Now, he was chatting and eating with his family like normal, as if nothing had changed.
Changed? Silas thought to himself with a quizzical expression, What’s changed? It’s always been like this. Silas forced the uneasy feelings that persisted to bother him away and listened to Aurelia and Cirdan poke fun at each other.
The meal was quick to finish, and soon after Silas had cleared the table and put the dishes in the wash basin, he was grabbed at the arm by Emmeline and dragged towards the door with an impatient smile. “There’s no time to waste! The celebration is about to start!”
“Wait, Emmeline! We can’t just go!” Silas said with a laugh as he stumbled, attempting to keep up with her quick steps, “The dishes!” He pleaded, glancing back at his family.
“We’ll take care of these, Silas! Go have fun!” Maeir said with a wave of her hand, watching the couple with a smile, “This is all for you, afterall!”
“What?” Silas tried to ask, pulling back against Emmeline’s surprisingly strong grip. As Emmeline continued to pull him towards the entrance with a laugh, Silas desperately shouted, “Just make sure to come once you’re all done, okay?! I don’t-” Silas paused momentarily, almost to the entrance, “I don’t want us to get separated again!”
Silas was then pulled through the front door, which promptly closed behind them as Emmeline dragged him towards the center of the town. Silas kept his eyes on his family home, taking it in with a sudden sense of longing and panic. He tried to pull back against Emmeline, to protest going forward, but she gently yanked his arm and kept walking, speaking over his mumbled protests.
“There’s no time, Silas!” Emmeline said with a shake of her head, “Everyone’s waiting for you!” Silas felt anxiety funneling through his body like lightning, and his breath became ragged and faint, but he could not get his lips to move to protest. His legs and arms moved on their own, guiding him, and his lips remained frozen shut, as if his mind refused to let him speak.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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“Silas is here!” The villagers cheered, and a familiar face approached Silas with his arms open wide, the smile on his face large as he laughed aloud and patted Silas’s shoulder with a proud slap.
“I can’t believe it! You did it, Silas!” Jacob, his mission partner, spoke to Silas with the high-energy demeanor he always had. “I didn’t think you had it in you!”
Silas felt tears come to his eyes as he saw all the familiar, excited faces around him, but he was unsure why. Instead he went through and hugged all the familiar faces, taking extra time to thank the gods he was back with everyone. Everyone laughed and sang and crowded around Silas, celebrating his presence. With everyone around him, Silas could not remember what he was so anxious about.
I’m home. That’s what’s most important. He thought with a confident smile as he saw Emmeline in the bustling crowd, who stepped out to grab a drink. As she made her way through the crowd, two mugs in her hands, Silas excused himself from the group and made his way to her. She smiled brilliantly, lowering the mugs to her sides, as Silas slipped an arm around her waist, giving her a quick kiss on her lips.
“I knew seeing everyone would lighten your mood!” Emmeline said, passing Silas a mug as he pulled away from her, still keeping a hand on her waist, “But I didn’t know it would lighten it this much!”
“I can’t believe he’s not happier about his success!” Jacob said, coming to Silas’s free side with a friendly nudge of his arm, “You’re a hero, Silas! You did it! I think that’s enough for a drink!” Jacob lifted his mug high into the sky, and everyone followed suit with a shout. As everyone threw their drinks back, Silas sipped happily at his drink, embarrassed by all the attention.
“I’m glad I’m a hero, but what did I do?” Silas asked Jacob, his mug gripped tightly in his hand.
As the crowd suddenly became silent, Maeir and the twins burst through the crowd and hurried towards Silas. The twins ran towards Silas to grab his hands like always as Jacob laughed aloud, slapping Silas’s shoulder as he responded, “Listen to this fierce elven warrior! You humble hero!” The crowd began to cheer and shout gleefully, which spurned Jacob on as he spoke loudly to the crowd, “You saved us all! You killed the crown prince of the Yursear Kingdom during the raid of their palace!”
A chill coursed through Silas’s body at Jacob’s words. A ringing sensation rumbled in his ears, silencing the music and singing around him as his eyes widened, his mind freezing on the words that Jacob had just uttered. The crown prince… Clarence? But… isn’t he just a child? The words spun in his mind again and again, holding his attention. There was no doubt in his mind, the crown prince of the Yursear kingdom was the same age as Cirdan and Aurelia, so he would have only been eight years old. While Silas felt he could kill the prince if he was an adult, killing a child was out of the question. They were too young to fight back, too young to defend themselves properly. Their brains were not even developed, yet he had killed a child, with his own two hands? Silas stared at his calloused hands, hiding his disgust. He thought he would be more excited about killing the prince and ending the war, but he could feel nothing but sorrow.
Jacob continued to laugh gleefully and smack his shoulder again, adding, “It takes a lot of guts to kill a child, Silas, but you really did it. Take some pride in yourself!”
Silas’s stomach was churning, the acid inside threatening to trail up his throat. Should I feel proud of myself? I don’t even remember what happened. Silas swallowed the dry saliva in his mouth and nodded, reining in his expression as he said a quiet, “Yeah, thanks, Jacob.” His words were short, but to those around him, it made him sound humble, nervous to be the center of attention. Silas was always shy, after all.
As Jacob walked away, various elven villagers came up to Silas and congratulated him, even telling Emmeline, still standing by his side, that she was a lucky woman. Many toasted Silas with their glasses, one even toasting his mug full of wine into Silas’s, gesturing for him to drink it. Feeling nauseous as he was, Silas could only smile and wet his lips, masking the despair deep inside his chest. Emmeline stood by his side, holding a mug of water in her hand and toasting the passerby with her mug as they congratulated Silas.
“It’s time, everyone!” The village chief announced, his voice carrying throughout the open clearing of the center of the village as the sounds of voices and instruments slowly came to a stop. Once the surrounding area had fallen quiet, the chief announced,“Soldiers, bring forth the trophy!”
Rings of cheers rang out in the area, and the bright lights of mana were quickly dimmed, causing even the fireflies to vacate the area as large torches were lit with tall red flames, brightening the center of the village with a dark, burning light. As the sound of footsteps emerged from the side of the forest, the other villagers began to cheer as Silas stood next to his family, his hand held in Emmeline’s as he lowered his wine mug, holding it to the side as he prepared himself for the next part of the festival.
The sounds of drums began to beat at a steady rhythm, thumping along as the sound grew in volume, growing closer and closer as the sounds of footsteps followed suit. As the torches in the forest neared, Silas could make out a few figures stepping forward in military uniforms, walking with their backs high, holding two torches in the front. More soldiers were behind them, marching in a square-like formation. The captain of the guards stood in the middle of the group, holding a tall spear with a round object pierced at the top. From where he was standing, Silas could not make out the object, even squinting. However, as the soldiers got closer, the item became startlingly clear.
Dear gods. Silas thought to himself, unconsciously loosening his grip on the wine mug in his hand, dropping it to the grass beneath his feet. The red wine splashed out of the mug and stained his shoes and ankles in red.
The group of elves marched forward towards the large group of villagers, chanting aloud an elven victory song as they continued forward, the soldiers marched with pride on their faces as the villagers cheered and chanted along with them. Silas could not speak. His eyes were fixed on the object in the captain’s hand.
The object was a head, and not just any head, but the young prince Clarence’s head. The dark blue hair was scattered on his head, his bangs clinging to his pale, clammy skin that had long lost its color, now dressed in the pale purple-white pallor of death. His hair had been pulled and tugged hard, leaving some patches of missing hair, showing parts of his white scalp, and the place where his neck had been detached by the sword was still dripping blood. The neck itself was bruised and red, leaving only a gaping hole, showing where parts of Clarence’s hair had been roughly cut by the sword. Flies had already begun to settle around the head, but due to the cooling power of the mana, the head had yet to show signs of rot, appearing like a piece of frozen flesh to be enjoyed later.
His face was distorted in pain and terror, his eyes open with fear, the dampness of tears still lining his soft cheeks still full of baby fat. His mouth was distorted in a large frown, his eyebrows still knitted as the body had lost its soul. Even attached to the spike, the hair swayed in the wind as the captain carried the spear like a trophy of war, displaying the young boy’s head for all the village to see.
As the group traveled through the center of the village, they began to parade through the town, chanting and singing as villagers began to follow the procession, laughing and smiling as they drank and cheered. Silas watched them pass by, many of them singing praises for him, cheering his name excitedly as they passed him and his family. Maeir, holding the twins’ shoulders, smiled and waved to them, looking proud of her son. The villagers around Silas cheered, some crying with happy tears in their eyes.
Silas’s shoulders shook as tears came to his eyes. The once beautiful scenery of the village, his childhood home, suddenly disgusted him. He slowly looked around him as his neighbors and friends, who were just kindly smiling and laughing with Silas, spit and threw things at the prince’s severed head, cheering at the decapitated head. Even Emmeline, the kind, gentle Emmeline, smirked with pride as the head was paraded past them.
Silas’s head began to spin as he looked at the soulless eyes of the once crying child, a spike through their bloodied neck. He let go of Emmeline and broke from the crowd, a sob rising from him as he ran to a nearby tree, leaning to the side and puking up all the wine and food he had consumed. Silas panted heavily as he huddled next to the tree, squeezing his eyes shut as his heart and mind raced.
…
The day of the hunt had finally arrived, bringing together all of the bridal candidates in a disordered fashion as they all prepared their best dresses and attire to wear during the final event, the hunt, prepared by Prince Clarence himself to select the final candidate to rule at his side as the future queen of the Yursear Kingdom. The weight of the event weighed heavily on everyone’s shoulders, even the candidates that had considered themselves out of the running. With only seven girls left, the stakes were raised even higher as the final chance to make a good impression came.
Standing tall in a wool, dark brown riding dress, Charlotte walked down the hall with Philomena at her side, dressed in a plum, lace dress with an embellished coat collar, appearing sweet and refined with her riding hat. The pair walked side by side in harmony, speaking softly between them as they walked down the hall to greet Sagara and Olicia, who had already been ready and were waiting in front of their rooms, ready to walk together to the palace gardens to spectate.
Sagara’s hair was tied to the side, showing off the decorative jewelry in her hair as she adjusted the juniper-colored, corseted jacket around her waist. The skirt was long and draping, gathered at the back with a small bustier attached to the back, but on the tall Sagara, it flattered her figure and did not impede her movements in the slightest. Standing next to Sagara was Olicia, who had already been dressed for the occasion, but as Charlotte and Philomena approached, they were surprised by Olicia’s attire.
Unlike the dresses worn by her companions, Olicia was dressed in a red and black riding jacket and dress pants, embellished with gold buttons and modest amounts of lace. Her hair had been tied back behind her head in a tall ponytail, and the jacket fell just below her hips, covering her figure with the thick fabric and ruffles on edge of the garment. The riding boots reached just below her knees, making her appear taller as she stood with her arms crossed, the makeup on her face light.
While the servants surrounding the small group were silent, Philomena could not help but ask aloud to Olicia, “Why are you wearing such a thing?” Though her words carried surprise at the oddity of Olicia’s dress. Women in the Yursear and Bethellian kingdoms would not wear pants of any style, except for women working in the fields. However, it was known that pants were not an uncommon fashion item in the Faelfier Kingdom, though wearing them so openly at the selection was a statement of its own.
“After what’s been happening in the palace, I need to be able to move quickly. A hunting dress would only weigh me down.” Olicia stated in a quiet voice, patting the sides of her dress pants as she looked up at the two princesses and said, “Aren’t you two worried that something will happen during the event?”
As Philomena prepared to respond, Charlotte stopped her and said in an equally quiet tone, “Acting out so obviously will only draw attention to yourself.” She paused before she continued, “We’re all worried about the hunt, however we must behave as though nothing is on our minds except the selection. If we behave strangely, that traitor might notice and act on it.”
Olicia, after discussing it thoroughly with Alywin and Beau, had decided to tell Charlotte, Philomena, and Sagara about what she had heard. Though Beau had had his doubts about discussing it with them, in case the other traitor was among them, Alywin heavily encouraged Olicia to tell them, though he would not say why. So, though Olicia was unsure, she decided to tell them only the most important facts, though she did not say who or where she had heard it, and they had not pushed the issue. Their reactions were all underwhelming to Olicia’s surprise. Unlike Olicia, all three women had prepared for many types of betrayal and backstabbing. Again, Olicia felt out of her depth compared to the three women around her.
Who was working with the traitor was still unknown, but all of the candidate’s actions had changed, making them more reserved and cautious than before with the fear of death haunting at their heels. The only candidate who maintained her haughty, strict air was Cordelia. After her indecent actions towards the prince, she humiliated herself and had almost taken herself out of the running to be the next Yursinean queen, however her position as Vartien Duchess was the only thing that saved her, so she was not sent away like the many candidates before her. Even so, her two close companions, Countess Annmaria and Duchess Ophira, had created some distance between them in order to avoid sullying their own family names. Their futures were on the line, and bringing disgrace to their family in the Yursear palace would be irreparable to their reputation as future high-standing nobles.
Even though the relationship between the three had somewhat soured, Annmaria and Ophira were quick to stand by Cordelia’s side as the trio walked by the small group of four, dressed in embellished, Yursinean-styled dresses. Their trains had been styled short enough to walk on their own, only decorating the lower back of their dresses with embroidered patterns, partially covered by their heavy fall jackets.
It was strange for Cordelia to be dressed so formally, as she had already been disallowed from participating in the hunt, however her attitude made her appear as if she were the guest of honor. “Hello, ladies.” Cordelia bowed shallowly before she straightened her back, pushing back a loose strand of hair with her hand as she smiled at the women, the anxiety hidden in her eyes.
“Good afternoon.” Charlotte was the first to bow, followed by the other three ladies, who greeted Cordelia and her entourage with a formal bow. There was no warmth in their words, only formalities. Olicia swallowed the fear rising in her throat, watching Cordelia closely,
Act normal. Olicia thought to herself, Captain Laurent told me that’s the most important thing to do. If she finds out that I’m the one who overheard her conversation, she will have me killed.
Olicia, repeating her calm mantra in her mind, said with an awkward pause, “The weather is nice today, isn’t it?”
The group of seven fell silent once again. Charlotte quietly turned to Olicia, as did the other candidates with a questioning gaze. Behind her smile, Cordelia’s eyebrows twitched, feeling the young Faelfierian marchioness truly was not bright. Feeling the strange atmosphere grow awkward, Olicia smiled tightly, holding back her temptation to smack herself on the head, that wasn’t natural at all! She hid the blush on her cheeks by turning her head slightly.
In order to salvage the room, one of the candidates spoke. “The hunt will begin soon. We should hurry to the pavilion outside.” Sagara said, holding her fan in front of her face as she spoke, speaking loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear, preparing to leave the castle for the event.
Cordelia’s face did not change as the four left, but instead she tightened her grip on her lace fan and sent Annmarie and Ophira away with a smile, asking them to enjoy the hunt as she quickly returned to her room, sending away her servants outside before she closed the door to her sitting room, clutching her fan tightly in her right hand as she strode towards the side of the room, where a chair was occupied with a shadowy figure, resting with their legs crossed.
“You’re here. Has the plan been canceled?” Cordelia asked in a hushed tone, stepping her way over to the figure in at a frenzied pace, clutching the side of a nearby chair with her left hand as she stood only feet away from the familiar nobleman. “They’ve already caught us once. If we continue this through, I may get in more trouble.”
Willis, the king’s advisor, sat with his back tall in the luxurious sitting chair, his eyes narrowed with impatience as he responded cooly, “If we suddenly stop the plan now, they will become more suspicious and weed you out as the perpetrator. Rather, it’s best we continue our plan as it is.” Willis stopped momentarily before he continued, “You’re already barred from participating in the hunt. This leaves you in the perfect position to act without being noticed. Security has been lax in the past days, and no one is paying attention to you now. You can kill that bastard Bethellian princess and take hold of the throne for yourself. Once you do that, you can put the blame on that imcompetent Faelfierian marchioness. There is no chance of failure, so long as you do as I say.” Willis’s snake-like eyes glittered in the light, making the older man appear dangerous.
Cordelia, however, could only think of salvaging her position in the prince’s heart as she said, “By some chance anything goes wrong, you will protect me, won’t you?” Nervousness was dripping from her face, behind her haughty demeanor.
This girl is a fool. I should have never helped her. Willis thought to himself, maintaining his placid expression as he responded, “Of course, Duchess Bernard. Everything will go according to plan.” Willis’s words were laced with honey as he thought inwardly, Foolish, lovestruck girl, if anything does go wrong, you will be the perfect scapegoat.
Cordelia bowed her head, thanking Willis with her usual disregarding demeanor. Before she could speak to him more, the man uttered a quick, “The hunt will begin soon. Prepare yourself.” Once he spoke, he moved towards the door to the sitting room, knocking twice on the door with his knuckle in a short pattern. After a short moment, the door was cracked open by an unknown servant.
“The hall is clear, Sir Willis.”
Willis waved his hand towards the servant and adjusted his suit coat before he turned once more to Cordelia and smiled, a flash of venom hidden in his gaze as he bid the young Vartien duchess a farewell, calculating the odds of her failure.
…
Thank you all for your patience! I keep typing too much for one chapter, so I have to keep editing where I cut with Hunny…. This caused us to be a little late, missing our Christmas update…. Sorry ;; I also had something else prepared, but I ended up losing most of my data on that drawing file, got mad, and gave up for now =v=; I still plan to get a sketch done to post with next chapter, but I will have to see if I have time!
Silas’s dream state still has me super anxious, especially writing it. I felt a little sick writing Clare’s part, but I think it really represents what Silas sees in his head regarding Clare as a child. The graphic details are important, because it’s what Silas is seeing, and it is not reality.
Thank you all for reading! Happy holidays~!! See you next week ♥
Y el bl? Cuando?