#dgmana | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xaz-fr · 6 years ago

Photo

First - Previous - Next

Set in a fantasy world of the semi socialist society Fey Alliance with magic, dick head dragon riders, benevolent necromancers, and even bigger dick head gods of mischief. The Zealous Servant is the story about a guy named Spayar who, has to keep his crown prince of a bff from being murdered by his entire family by murdering them first. Though Spayar just wants to take a nap and find a cute boy to kiss and not have to worry about his corpse potentially being dragged through the street after a war. Better win that shit then.

I will only ping this particular list once and if you want to be pinged for future posts a like or reblog will get you on the next pinglist. Reblogs (especially with a dumb comment but not required) are way more appreciated as it allows other people to see the work

@deadpool-scar-bro @starry-ampelope @golden-lionsnake @aw-some-musics @fullbearauthorclam @ragirl243 @redlion-fr @purple-forget-me-nots @unburdened-billy @trashcano08 @typefulls @slighteyewing @incel-tears @dgmana @genonehell @frxemriss

My favorite thing about Spayar is that no matter how cool he is or becomes this chapter still happens and shows he’a fucking idiot lols.

On the few clear days in the Meltong Basin during the wet season Assarus came to life like an ant hive. Most people tried to stay indoors as often as possible in the autumn because it rained nearly every day, so when the sky was clear and the weather warlockd predicted no rain everyone made sure to make the most of it. Spayar was on his mare in traffic, Duren sitting in front of him, sitting straight up and looking all around. Thankfully Spayar still had several inches on him or it would be a problem.

His mare barely noticed the extra weight. She had a deep brown coat, thick legs, and great big hooves with great feathering. She was a horse who's ancestors had once worked the fields and now were the mounts of royalty and their favored. Von had gifted her to Spayar three years ago when Spayar complained about always having different horses wherever they went. Now she was his, he couldn't even begin to think of how expensive a horse like Spayar's was, trained for battle and didn't even flinch when her rider used magic. Not to mention the size, she was massive, and everyone got out of her way.

"Where are we going?" Duren asked, turning around to look at Spayar, holding onto the pommel to keep from falling off.

"You'll see," though of course Duren knew why. He'd begged and begged Spayar over breakfast to show him how to ride and Spayar had given in if only to just make him shut up. By now they were leaving Bellringer and into South Garden which looked like it was trying very hard to mimic the style of Nedrag and the Garden with it's clean, boxy, buildings and covered in fauna. The city of Assarus or Surassa themselves had no one culture. They were a melting pot of all the provinces, and thus all the kingdoms the Alliance had conquered in its two thousand year being. Parts of South Garden looked like Nedalia or Dalican, there were motifs from the Yellow Hills in South Garden and he saw symbols from the city Peonia painted on the sides of buildings. People from the west of the Alliance had settled South Garden, much like the east had settled in Bellringer with it's gray stone buildings and clocks and its focus on craft rather than aesthetic.

"Shouldn't we be going outside the city?" Duren asked since South Garden was further in and really Spayar just wanted to get to Tradesmens as quickly as possible since unlike Peonia it sometimes mimicked itself after South Garden was one of the most twisting and confusing districts in the capital other than perhaps Cat's Cradle, even the Mire and Downriver were more organized than this.

"You'll see," Spayar just said again pushing his mare through a busy intersection full of people. When they saw his big war horse they jumped out of the way. Spayar was trying to be nice but he was getting annoyed with how busy this damn city was and he had a big horse. Big horses won over busy pedestrians.

"I can see Swan Island from here," Duren pointed once they finally got through South Garden and into Tradesmens. Spayar looked and indeed they could see the holy island from here over the low buildings and warehouses of Tradesmens, meaning Spayar was way off course. "Are we going to Swan Island?" Duren asked, confused.

"No," even as he made his mare head for the river. They came up to the walled bank of the Meltong and could see Swan Island easily. A small lake had formed here in the Meltong river in a low part of the land before it continued its journey south to the Break and the Fea’staal Sea. behind. Swan Island sat in the middle of the lake and it was a large, beautiful park, filled with temples. From here they could see people going in and out of them and people on horses or people enjoying the sunlight on the grass or under the trees.

"Can we go to Swan Island?" Duren asked.

"I thought you wanted to learn to ride," Spayar said.

"Yeah I know, but we rarely go to Swan Island."

"Another time. I'll take you and the girls on Asumsest if you want," and he turned his horse to start down the road, running parallel to the river, towards the Winter Palace at the top of the hill in the distance. Tradesmens was full of canals that went into warehouses from the river and looked more like something from the country of Tipin or even Joti than anything else. Bridges spanned every canal for horses and pedestrians, though they were too steep and high to allow bigger boats through, so carriages had to take other routes. Few people were on the River Road but there were a lot of boats in the river. The Meltong was always full of boats and today was especially bad since it was full of trade ships and barges as well as personal boats with brightly colored sails or sides. At the very least both the river and the river road were orderly.

The River Road wound north and east, through parts of South Garden, where Spayar didn’t let anyone get in his way lest they get trampled by war horse hooves, and then through the entire length of Uptown. The Hillsman children all went to school in Uptown. Mostly because their father could afford the cabby ride there and back every day and Anora’s private secondary schooling there. It was a wealthy neighborhood and it seemed like the was a bank on every street from every major city in the Alliance. At the last everyone moved with purpose here, no dawdling or frolicking about like in South Garden. Here people were all business and people stayed on the side walks and out of the traffic of horses, carriages, and some strange two wheeled contraption Spayar had never seen but flew down the street as quick as any horse. It looked like a buggy but wasn't pulled by a horse. He have to look into that.

When the River Road finally dumped them into Fey's Shadow Duren turned to Spayar accusingly. Spayar just rose his brows at his brother. Duren frowned the Hillsman frown at Spayar and turned back around. In Fey's Shadow the roads were wide and well kept, the manses behind their tall, thick, walls, were every style in the Alliance. The wealthiest people lived in Fey's Shadow and most nobles had houses here as well, and built their mansions in the style of their home province. You could see the entire gambit of architectural styles in Fey's Shadow from the low, spider web-like dwellings of the Wren-Kel, to the tall, low eaved, state house of the Peony. Spayar kept his horse on still and Duren's head kept moving, looking all around, trying to see everything. A lot of the houses were out of sight behind the walls but he tried, to caught glimpses of them through the gates.

At some point they came to the Twin Switches bridges, where the Meltong looped back around to itself and were only a few hundred feet apart. Two identical bridges built in a northern style spanned both parts of the Meltong and as they crossed the first bridge you could sort of see over the thick, protective, wall of the North estate. Duren raised himself up in the saddle a bit as though to see better before sitting back down. The North estate was the most heavily fortified estate they’d seen thus far, and the largest. Spayar knew there were bigger ones than the North’s, but it was up there.

“Who lives there?” Duren asked Spayar.

“The Norths,” Spayar said.

“Wow,” he said, “Do you know them?”

“By reputation, now sit down I can’t see,” and Duren turned right way round and sat properly as they started to cross the second Switch. Very shortly after they’d passed the North estate the road started to slant upwards to the Palace which gleamed like a snow capped mountain from the peak.

There were no walls around the grounds of the Winter Palace, just like the rest of Assarus. There hadn't been an attack on the capital in two thousand years when neighboring nations had thought the young Alliance weak. Even the Federation wasn't stupid enough to attack their northern capital. You touched Assarus and a wrath that couldn't be imagined was unleashed. Not since Sinou's death had anyone tried to take Assarus or rather, Surassa, with any serious intent. The first Asuras had made sure the fear of what the Le'Acard could do would be felt through the ages until the end of time.

No one stopped Spayar as he rode up to the palace and Duren started to shift in front of him in wonder. It was above Duren to ever think of coming to the Winter Palace. His brother had been born and raised in Bellringer and he wasn't a knight, or a courtier or anyone of importance really.

Spayar didn't get too close to the Palace, instead he went around to the side where the stables were, where his own horse had been bred. A stable hand came out to see him when he got closer. "Sir," he bowed when he saw Spayar. Spayar recognized him.

"Oh stand up Jill," Spayar said, unimpressed. The stable hand, Jill, looked up, a rueful smile on his face like what Spayar did to Von Jill bowed to Spayar to annoy him.

The oldest son of a talented seamstress Jill was a spry young man Spayar's age with a gap in his front teeth, large ears, big green eyes, and hair the color of a carrot that stuck out wildly from any hat he tried to wear. They'd been sort of friends before Spayar had met Von, more friends because their mothers were friends. After Jill had finished his mandatory schooling in Bellringer he’d begged Spayar to get him a job in the Palace. So Spayar had and now he worked in the stables, right where Jill wanted to be with his love of animals. "You ain't impression' no one,” casually taking on the low born drawl of those in Middleton where he knew Jill lived, across the river from Bellringer.

Jill laughed and stood up straight, walking over to take the mare's bridle as Spayar dismounted with a grunt. Damn horse sometimes felt too big for him, even with his long legs. "Wha'cha here for?" Jill asked.

"Riding lessons, c'mon Duren," he held his arms up for his little brother. Duren dragged one leg over the saddle so he was sitting with both on the same side and then slid down into Spayar's arms. He wasn't strong enough to catch Duren anymore, his brother too big for that, but he could make sure he got to the ground safely.

"For who? You? You’re one of the best riders I know," and Jill sucked on his gap.

"No no, for my brother," Duren stood behind Spayar. He didn't know Jill, Spayar wasn't surprised, the damn guy slept with the horses now and rarely went home to Middleton despite talking like he'd lived there his entire life. Spayar also didn’t see or mention Jill like he did his actual friends. They’d been boys together but had nothing in common anymore and didn’t really interact except for times like these. "I need an easy horse, lower to the ground than her," he patted his mare's neck fondly.

"Wan’a pony?" he asked, "We have a few of ‘em marshy geldings.”

"Yeah, that sounds fine."

"You got it," and then he turned back towards the stables, leading Spayar's horse away. As he did Jill yelled, "Mavok, get one of the ponies saddled up!"

"Who was that?" Duren asked him.

"A friend," Spayar said, Duren just looked confused. "What?" he asked.

"You have other friends other than the prince?" Duren asked.

"Of course I do," Spayar said irritably. Spayar had a lot of friends, though few good ones, and countless acquaintances he knew more about than he had any right to. "Vondugard isn't my only friend."

"Seems like," Duren said, making a face, "dooim says so a least."

"Dad doesn't know half the things I do," thank the gods for that. “Don’t listen to everything dad says, he’s not always right.”

Duren frowned, not liking Spayar talking about their dad in any negative light. “Why do I have to ride a pony? I want to ride a horse," Duren decided to complain about that instead.

"A pony is fine to start with and probably as much as a horse as you'll ever ride," he patted Duren's shoulder. Duren looked at him sourly. "You're a smith brother, not a knight, you got no need for a horse."

"What about you then? Are you a knight?"

"No," Spayar agreed. Gods no he wasn't a knight.

"Then why do you have a horse?"

Spayar laughed, "More than just knights own horses, Duren. You see people not knights on horses don't you?" Duren nodded slowly. "A horse is just expensive. Expensive to buy, expensive to care for, expensive to house. I'm really lucky to have a horse like mine. But you," he tapped his brother's nose, "will be fine with a pony for today. Once you get better we'll move you to a horse."

"Okay," Duren said, Spayar could see the wheels of Duren's mind turning. But before he could figure it all out Jill was back leading a pony, fully saddled. It was a fairly tall pony, rather thin, with long, narrow, legs, but still many hands shorter than Spayar’s mare.

"Here w’are, one of them marshy ponies of LoHanJo'in," meaning it was a Adoshade horse. They'd bred them from the water ponies who lived in and around the Boggart swamps that took up most of LoHanJo'in province. They were just tall enough to stand above the water line most places and short enough to stay out of the way of the lower branches of the trees in the swamps and small enough to squeeze between trees to escape predators.

"Thanks," Spayar said and Jill handed him the lead.

"His name's Ollie, ‘e's a good boy," and Jill patted the pony's rump, Ollie swished his tail.

"We'll have him back before lunch probably," Spayar said.

"No rush. Hillsman can take him out as long as he wants, Stablemaster said that."

“Really?’ Spayar asked, raising his brows at Jill.

“Aaaah, not in so many words,” Jill said, grinning a gap toothed grin.

“Great,” Spayar said, half laughing, “Take care of my horse while I'm out."

Jill laughed, "She'll be a princess while she's here," he promised.

Spayar grinned and motioned to his brother to follow him as he led him and the pony away from the stables. "Spayar," Duren asked as they went to a field. Unlike most of the land around the capital the hill the palace sat on was hard ground. It was why Spayar had picked up here and not just anywhere, Duren wouldn't have to worry about potholes or wetland.

"Yeah?" Spayar asked.

"Does your horse have a name?"

Spayar looked up from where he was checking the pony's bridal, "Uh... no," he realized. He'd never named his horse. Three years and his horse didn't have a name. It had honestly never occurred to him.

Duren hadn’t been expecting Spayar to actually agree with him that his horse didn’t have a name. "It doesn't?"

"I guess not," Spayar admitted and looked back on his life choices where he hadn’t named his own horse.

"You should name her," Duren insisted.

"I wouldn't even know what to call her," Spayar said, "I always just call her girl."

"That's a terrible name." Spayar frowned, now he felt weird about it. How had he not noticed he'd never named his own horse? He’d had her for three years. How hadn't anyone noticed? Or what if they had but had felt like it wasn’t their place to point it out? Maybe everyone knew Spayar’s horse didn’t have a name and wondered what was wrong with him. It made Spayar feel self conscious about the entire thing. He couldn’t just go around asking people if they knew his horse’s name either because then if they didn’t know then they would. "You should think of a name for her," Duren said.

"I guess," Spayar said, though honestly giving his horse a name now would be more weird since he was so used to her not having one. "I'll think about it, now lets get you up.” Mainly he just wanted to get off the subject of his horse not having a name. Hopefully Duren would forget that they’d ever had this conversation.

He showed Duren how to mount a horse. Duren climbed onto Ollie's back with only a bit of trouble. Spayar handed Duren the reigns and saw that Jill had also given him a long lead line as well. Thanks Jill. "Marshy ponies are really well trained," Spayar told his brother to continue to stay off the subject of his own horse. “So you just need to give it a little nudge to get him going. With your heel... yeah like that," and Duren got the pony to start to walk. "Not so tight on the reins," he said as he let the lead rope out.

"How do I turn?" Duren asked.

"Pull them the direction you want them to go. Not too hard," and Duren did so. The pony started to moved in an arc with Spayar as it's center point. Spayar turned as the pony walked and Duren was so focused on the pony it was like he’d forgotten his brother was an absolute idiot.

"Spayar," Duren said after he'd walked the pony around Spayar in a circle a few times "what's a gelding?"

"It's a boy horse that can't have children."

Duren was paying attention to the pony when he asked, "Like you?"

"What! No. I'm not a gelding," thank the gods he wasn't. He rather enjoyed all his equipment, and all their functions.

"But you can't have children," Duren looked at Spayar.

"I am fully capable," Spayar said, trying not to be irritated. Duren was only eight, he was allowed to be stupid. It was surprisingly difficult to not be angry though. "I just won't."

"Cause boys can't have babies?"

"Exactly," Spayar said, "And a gelding is a horse who's been castrated. It's different."

"Well what's castrated mean?"

"It means they cut the balls off." Spayar laughed at Duren's horrified face. His brother looked down at his lap like to assure himself he was still in one piece. "They only do it to horses,” he assured Duren. That didn't mean Spayar couldn't think of at least a dozen reasons or crimes that would get a man castrated, and not just the balls either.

"Why do they do that?"

"To make them calmer."

"But what about making more horses?"

"They don't geld all the stallions Duren," Spayar sighed, "and the Adoshade only gift out or sell gelded marshy ponies, so other places can't breed them."

"Why?"

"Politics, don't worry about it," yeah only Spayar had to worry about that sort of stuff. "Try and make your pony go faster," Spayar encouraged to get them off the talk of horse balls. First making Spayar come to the realization his horse didn’t have a name and now horse balls. Something was wrong with his little brother. Duren tapped the pony again and Ollie started to go faster.

They were out there for a while until Duren said his legs hurt. "Owww," he complained as he got off Ollie. "Why does that hurt so much?"

"You aren't used to it," Spayar said, patting Ollie who looked ready for a rest and to not go in circles anymore. Duren was rubbing the inside of his thighs, looking pained. "Lets head back to the stable, I'm sure Ollie wants his lunch," and he started to walk, Duren rubbed for a few more seconds before following.

"You rode all the way to Peonia and back in like two weeks,” Duren said, looking at Spayar with something like awe.

"I did," he agreed.

"Didn't it hurt?"

Spayar shrugged, "It's just uncomfortable. You get used to it honestly, from being in the saddle so much."

"Doesn't your dick hurt though?"

Spayar snorted, "Usually the whole area just goes numb before it starts to hurt."

"You've ridden a horse with a numb butt?" Duren cried, eyes wide.

"Yeap," Spayar said. "But I ride all the time. The more you do the less it hurts."

"Oh," Duren looked contemplative a moment. "You're not a knight, right Spayar?"

"Nope."

"Then what are you? You can fight and do magic like a knight and a warlock, but you aren't are you?"

"I'm not a knight," Spayar said, "all magic users are warlocks, you know that."

"Then what are you?" Spayar thought about that a moment. What was he? "Spayar?"

"I'm thinkin'," Spayar said as they approached the stables. Jill didn't meet them this time and they entered the building. "Hello," he called. The royal stables were huge and each stall had a name plaque beside the door. Despite that it was easy to get lost and it wasn’t best to wander without a stablehand to guide you. "Hello," he called again. It'd take them forever to find Ollie's stall on their own. He sighed and started down the stall lined corridor, at the very least he could find Ollie's stall. Though he also needed to find his horse. This was probably a horrible idea. Where was everyone?

They walked through the stables to the other side where there was a covered area that led to one of the two large courtyards that stood guard next to the large looping drive at the front of the palace. There they found seemingly all the stable hands, standing back and out of the way. In front of them was a gilt carriage pulled by a team of four, black, horses of the same sick as his own made and standing beside it was a fair haired woman who was yelling at the holsters. Spayar recognized her by voice alone, it was Von's second oldest sister; Obi.

"What's going on?" Spayar asked one of the stable hands quietly, thankfully Duren had enough sense to be silent.

"Her highness keeps changing her mind about what she wants," they said, frowning. "First she wanted white horses, than brown horses, now black horses, and only females. Something' wrong with the carriage, this or that uhg.”

"Well... I have a pony that needs to be put away," Spayar said.

"At least it's something to do, what's his name?"

"Ollie."

"Right, I'll take him. You got a horse, sir?” they said and took Ollie’s lead. Meanwhile Obi was still yelling, irritated something wasn't happening fast enough. Spayar hated Obi. Spayar genuinely hated few people, but Obi was one of them. She was a handful.

“Yes, she’s a royal breed, dark brown coat, white hairs, Jill put her away for me.”

“Ah, I know that one. I’ll bring her here, sir,” and they left with Ollie.

Spayar turned around when he heard Obi crack one stable hand across the face. "Do not talk back to me," she yelled at the man who was now on the ground, hand over one side of their face.

"Apologizes your highness, I was merely-

She stepped on him, stomped was more a correct term honestly. The stable hand cried out, his sound of pain startling the horses. "I said do not talk back to me!"

"I'm sorry," the stable hand stammered. Spayar knew he shouldn’t intervene. He didn’t really have much to do with the other royals unless they put themselves in front of him. It was less messy and he wouldn’t get to know them and feel bad when he plotted their murder. He was about to turn away and take Duren with him when he recognized the stablehand. He cursed to himself. Of course it had to be Jill. Of course it had to be because Can’dhe liked to torment him. Liked to put things in his way and test his character.

He looked down at his brother and saw his brother recognized Jill as well. What would it look like if Spayar just turned a blind eye? How could he explain to his baby brother that it was better if he didn’t get involved? He couldn’t. Not after Spayar had called Jill his friend. What sort of person left their ‘friend’ to be beat over nothing. He sighed a little. He was about to do something stupid and reckless and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

"Learn to listen when your betters speak," Obi spat made to stomp on Jill again. This time Spayar flicked his hand to cast a spell and caught her heeled foot in mid air with a messy weave that clung to the air on spider silk connections. It did hold her though. She whirled on the stable hands accusingly, fire in her cerulean blue eyes. "Who's doing that?" she demanded.

Nothing for it. He’d started this, he had to finish it. Spayar stepped forward, leaving Duren with another stable hand who didn't need to be told to hold his brother back. "Hello your highness," he bowed to her neatly, extending his arms a bit and wishing he was wearing a bit nicer clothes. Anyone watching saw it as mocking but Obi, unobservant as always, saw it as respectful. What she did see was that he didn’t bow nearly as low as he would to Von or even the king. The king. Her nostrils flared angrily.

Obi was the prettiest of Von’s siblings and loved the gut, emulating all the most popular styles from there. Obi had long, delicate, golden locks she wore in immaculate ringlets of the Dalicites. Her nails were always freshly manicured and painted like a Nedalian. Today they were apple red with yellow tips. Her bright blue eyes were ringed in Aldashi style liner, the wings conservative like she’d done them herself and was intimidated by them. They weren’t nearly as long or elegant as Tassa’s. Even her clothes were western Alliance with a high hem on her skirt over a pair of lace tights and a bodice that showed off her flat, golden, stomach and pushed her breasts together while keeping her shoulders bare. For the aesthetics she was lovely. Under that gilded facade she was a miasma of stupidity and temper made of methane that just needed the slightest spark to erupt in either spouting off something so ignorant it actually gave you pause, or she’d turn you inside out with a temper tantrum.

"Spayar," she said his name like he was a piece of shit on her shoe, "what do you think you're doing?"

"Keeping you from hurting an innocent man," Spayar said calmly, standing up again. He didn't avert his eyes when he spoke to Obi either, he didn't know how to anymore. Von demanded that Spayar looked at him on level when they spoke and he did it out of habit to all people of standing.

Obi looked down and sneered at Jill who swallowed. "If I want to it's my prerogative," she said and snapped Spayar's weave holding her leg like he knew she would. This time when Obi made to stomp on Jill Spayar uttered one word and Obi lost her footing and fell ass up on her back. There was a stunned silence in the courtyard. Here Spayar had to play carefully or he’d have a fire on his hands. He wasn’t a pyromacer either and Von want here.

"That man is under your mother's employ and thus under the protection of the Le'Acard," Spayar said, hands behind his back so no one could see how hard they were trembling. He wasn't angry. He was afraid. He wasn't afraid of much but pissing off someone who could kill him effortlessly was one of them. Von wasn't around to protect him from his sister like sometimes. It was one thing to kill your brother’s best friend when he was alone, it was quite another to do it in front of him. Especially a d’aelar. Normally that would make him immune from most attacks by the Le’Acard. Not from Obi. Obi didn’t care. When she was angry or insulted and not handled carefully she’d take on anyone.

Obi stared at him like she couldn't believe he'd really just done that. He'd just humiliated her in front of a bunch of stable hands. "What are you looking at?" she snarled at Jill who was also staring, slightly slack jawed.

"Nothing, your highness," he looked away quickly

She got to her feet and marched over to Spayar. Obi was shorter than him, but it didn't matter, she was like fire. Literally she was fire and was a pyromacer like her brother Von. For a second Spayar thought the tips of her coiled hair sparked and became flame. Not unheard of for a powerful pyromacer. "You would do such a thing?" she hissed.

Spayar kept very calm. Obi won when you talked back, when you got angry. He'd seen enough of her fighting with Teldin, Tallalsala and Dellin to know how she was, what she did, and how temperamental she was. When Obi started to smolder if you struck back in anger like she did she’d just ignite and you’d lose. It was something that happened often enough and only staying perfectly calm in the face of her wrath would see her be handled out of that spark of rage. “I would," he said.

"I am a Le'Acard, you would lay a hand on me?" she demanded, fire in her eyes, her breath as hot as a forge on his face.

"I did no such thing-

"You still-

"I simply stopped you from making a mistake," he just talked right over her. The only way for Obi to hear you was to just talk over her.

"Me? A mistake?" she laughed.

"So you would rather me tell the stable master you beat one of his best stable boys and then he would tell your mother?" Spayar asked her curiously.

Obi froze. She hadn't thought of that. Of course she hadn't. Obi was an idiot of the first degree. Of Von's siblings she was the least he was worried about because Obi didn't have the patience or brain power to plan a coup, let alone the temperament to see it through to completion. She might know Tallalsala was meeting with the Clan and Teldin had the White Foot and Wren-Kal in his pocket, but that meant nothing to Obi. It was like telling her there was a particular bad thunderstorm outside. It would pass, as it always did. "My mother?" she asked and it was like Spayar had dropped a block of ice on white hot iron.

"Yes," Spayar said, "Asuras Virilia takes great pride in the horses her stable breeds, and thus those who work there. You wouldn't want her to know you were abusing them would you?" Spayar was talking out of his ass of course. Obi was too dumb to know differently. She believed everything people told her. A temper with gullibility did not make a good match and was how you threw sand over the tinder of her temper. He looked at the carriage, "Didn't you have somewhere to be, my lady?" he asked her rather innocently, switching topics and confusing her by now being worried for her well being and her time table.

"I do," she said slowly, unsure what he was doing or how to react appropriately since just a moment ago she’d been ready to burn him alive.

"I would hate for you to be late," there was a driver already sitting in the seat up front, staring at Spayar like he was crazy. "Since I'm sure it's terribly important if you need to go."

"It is," she said and pursed her lips at him. She hadn't even realized what he was doing. How did Von have a sibling like Obi?

"I'm sure they're waiting for you," he moved his fingers and the carriage door opened, beckoning Obi.

"This idiot-

"Had the best intentions your highness. You really shouldn't worry about such trvilalries," and already Obi had gone from being mad at him for humiliating her to complacent and ready to do what he said. If you didn’t set her off Obi was actually very easy to deal with. It was just she was easily set off. You just had to use a certain tone with her and she cooled down and did what you said once you showed her that yes; you were the boss here, not her. Honestly she was a bit like a horse. If the rumors were true she was ridden about as much as the common use horses in the stables too. "Driver," he called, "where are you going?"

"We're going to Mirin, my lord," the driver said. The capital of Kou. That made Spayar slightly uneasy. A million possibilities ran through his head about why Obi would be going to the capital of Kou. She had to have a handler, behind the scenes, trying to put her on the throne. If only so she’d be a figurehead.

"That's a long way," Spayar said, “Who are you going to see?”

“The Lady Lenni,” she said. Spayar wracked his brain. Who was the Lady Lenni?

“Well if you don’t leave soon it’ll be too late in the day to make any way down the Westernlance. You wouldn’t want to put off seeing her another day would you?”

“No,” Obi said adamantly.

“Then we should get you on your way,” he said, barely even in the moment with Obi. He was thinking of who the Lady Lenni was. He helped her into the carriage and Spayar closed the door with a pleasant smile. He waved to the driver once he stepped back and the driver, who finally had to look away from his stupefied amazement at Spayar, flicked the reins to put the horses into a trot. Obi would be out of the city before she realized Spayar had manipulated her and she’d told him where she was going and who she was seeing.

"That was amazing," Jill said from the ground. "How'd you do that?"

"I have a lot of practice dealing with Le'Acard," Spayar offered Jill his hand. Jill took it and Spayar hauled him to his feet. Jill wasn't really wounded, but he was a bit battered. "Go to the palace healer, get healed up, if they throw a fuss say I sent you."

"You're right amazing Spayar," Jill said.

Spayar just shrugged, "Go on, me and Duren are for home."

"Right right," Jill said, and dusted himself off a bit. "Thanks," he said again, grinning his gap toothed grin at Spayar. Spayar went back to find his brother, "What you lot standing around for?" Jill cried at the other stable hands, "You gots stuff to do, so go do it!" and they scattered.

Duren was standing with his mare and another man that made Spayar stop dead, the warm feeling of victory over Obi leeching away instantly.

Teldin was holding onto Spayar's horse’s reins and standing next to Duren like it was the most natural thing he could do. "Your highness," he bowed to Teldin much lower than he had for Obi. Unlike her Teldin actually garnered real respect.

As with the rest of the past few generations of Le’Acard Teldin was fair and blonde, his hair in last decade’s style of long and slicked back. Unlike some of his siblings his skin was the color of flour and his eyes were such a brown they were practically black. He had mean eyes like an owl's and a long, proud looking face. He was well built and filled his autumn coat well. This was the man who threatened Von's life, and thus Spayar's own life; the oldest son of the Asuras.

"What can I do for you, your highness?" Spayar asked, straightening. As he did he noticed that twined around Teldin’s neck was a long, leaf green, snake with eyes too smart to be an animal. A shapeshifter. Spayar knew who it was instantly and it put him on more edge than he already was with Teldin’s appearance. Sade was a powerful warlock and shifter and practically Teldin’s second in command. She was practically another Spayar. Why would she be here with Teldin now?

"That was very impressive," Teldin said, he had the voice of a singer, the type you could listen to forever. "Not many people can so expertly manipulate Obi out of a rage," he said it thoughtfully but also like he didn’t actually care.

"You're too kind, your highness," Spayar said.

"Where's my brother?" he asked.

"Vondugard, your highness?"

"Who else would I ask you about?" though they both knew realistically Spayar probably knew the whereabouts of all the Le'Acard children despite only having been in Assarus a few days since his trip to the gut.

"I don't know. I just came home from serving time a few days ago. He wasn't here when I arrived,” he lied.

Teldin put a mean stare onto Spayar but he didn't flinch, didn't move a single inch. "You're a good d'alaer," Teldin said and cocked his head at Spayar in a very predatory fashion. "But you're wasted on my brother." Teldin knew Spayar was lying. He knew and knew Spayar knew he knew but pushing Spayar to answer would get him no where nor would it actually help him. He was just testing Spayar, like he always did, to see what he could get out of him.

"Your brother takes very good care of me," Spayar swallowed. This wasn't the first time Teldin had approached Spayar about changing his alliances. Teldin and Tallalsala had both done it, since they were the two better players on the field. They knew what it meant that Von had a d'alaer and they didn't. Sinou had had a famous d'alaer who helped him conquer the first realms of the Alliance. It was the opinion of most of the Alliance and especially the Le'Acard that Asuras who had a d'alaer on their sides were more competent rulers, better in every way. That they could instill such zealous devotion in someone meant they knew what they were doing. Teldin, Tallalsala and Dellin all hated Von in equal measure they were jealous of him because he had Spayar; his d'alaer.

Spayar was the d'aelar of this generation, the first one since since the early eighteen hundreds. His kind weren’t common and there was only ever one at a time. If there were more they’d constantly be compared until one was proclaimed the true d'aelar in the style of the d'aelar of old. The only way to get the benefit of a d'aelar now was to either kill Spayar and get your own or convince him that it was in his best interest to side with them. He’d been on the end of enough threats to himself and his family and promises of the world, stars and everything in between to know that it was serious for the Le’Acard. They knew the importance of his title, what it meant for them and the nobles, commoners and soldiers of the Alliance in the coming Conflict. The greatest Asuri had d’aelar. They wanted one too. Unfortunately there was only one Spayar.

"I would do better," Teldin said, "whatever he does for you I can do better.” Not the first promise Teldin had ever given him. “Or whatever he doesn’t do for you,” and Spayar did his best not to just grab his brother and bolt. It sounded like he was being courted and not asked to betray his best friend. Knowing Teldin there was all sorts of meaning behind those words and promises he’d follow up on to get the advantage over his siblings. Spayar did his best to not think about Von like that, let alone his viper of a brother.

"I'm not interested," Spayar said instead, once again putting his hands behind his back so Teldin wouldn’t see how they trembled. He just wanted Teldin to leave him alone. "I am Vondugard's d’aelar. His d'aelar I shall stay. As I’ve said before, I want nothing from you, Teldin,” he said. Sade’s body extended out towards Spayar a bit and the human eyes in a snake’s head were reproachful.

Teldin frowned, “You’re sure? Now’s the time to pick sides, d’aelar. Do you really want to be one of those who visits a temple of Lemp?” All the hair stood up on Spayar’s body. Most of the time just the presence of a d'aelar by a Le’Acard’s side was enough to rally most of the nation to them and they’d come through and sit on the throne. But sometimes, it wasn’t. The crown heir in question was killed. D’aelar knew they wouldn’t be spared after a Conflict’s close like their donalim. The only way out was to leave the Alliance and never return, leaving behind everything and one you’d ever known, or kill yourself. Since suicide was against their religion and the will of Lemp necromancers would assist people in their suicides. The d'aelar who went to temples of Lemp were a select few, and they all did so out of shame and grief when their best friends, or - in one case - their lover, had lost the Conflict.

“Careful,” Spayar said slowly, to not betray the hard beating of his heart. “Your dread is showing, your highness,” he said and bowed a little. Sade flicked her tongue at Spayar hatefully and he wondered what the hell had just gotten into him to say that to Teldin’s face. The prince wasn’t the least bit amused.

Teldin dropped his mare's lead and walked away without goodbye. Spayar's heart was all the way up in his throat as he walked away. He lurched forward, grabbed his horse’s lead and his brother’s hand and dragged them away.

"Spayar-

"Later," and Spayar said and stopped long enough to help Duren onto his horse. He scrambled up after his brother.

"But who was that-

"Duren," Spayar said sharply and kicked his mare into a canter to get away from the stables. “Not. Now.” He looked over his shoulder but didn’t see Teldin. Thankfully Duren didn’t ask any more questions and Spayar could focus on putting as much distance between them and the Palace as humanely possible. It was of course this time, when Spayar felt the stress of Teldin and the Conflict on his shoulders, that he remembered that Lady Lenni was the name of a the High Priestess of Belladha, goddess of wisdom. What a stupid thing he’d think of now and what a pointless person Obi was going to see. Spayar didn’t know if he was more annoyed with himself for knowing who Lenni even was, or for thinking about that instead of the fact that Teldin had just promised him if he didn’t join him that he’d make sure Spayar visited a temple of Lemp.

He really hated the royals.

#Writeblr #Writblr #original fantasy #original story #Horse #zs

13 notes · View notes