Misfortune

When Jon, Lona, Zairah and Mireanda got up in the morning, none of them had slept very well. They all were too agitated, too full of emotions that wouldn't allow them to rest. The plan was simple; Jon, Lona and Mireanda would go to the castle to confront Iohan. Lona and Mireanda had quickly agreed to leave the talking to Jon if at all possible, Mireanda because she didn't have anything to say, Lona because she was afraid that she might impulsively do something to make their situation a very bad one.

Zairah would follow them at a distance and keep an eye on them so she could step in if needed. The cold, rainy and windy day was an advantage for her, since nobody would even blink at her wearing a large cloak, the hood drawn low over her face, so she would most likely remain incognito. She didn't wear her bow and arrows open as she usually did, but hidden under her cloak.

The others had put on cloaks against the cold as well, but Jon had decided to go without his hood and the others didn't wear them nearly as low as Zairah did. While Zairah assumed her position on the bridge that connected the castle to the shore, the others were held up by a guard at the gate.

"What do you want?" the guard languidly asked.

"We would like to talk to you so-called Prince. We have a score to settle with him." Jon said calmly. The soldier laughed.

"And what kind of score would a bunch of peasants have to settle with a Prince?" he asked condescendingly.

"That's none of your concern." Jon replied coolly.

"He won't have any visitors." the guard said.

"Fine, he'll come out then." Jon said.

"That the Prince will certainly not do." the guard said. Jon sighed exasperatedly.

"Your Prince doesn't deserve that title." he said.

"You dare ..." the soldier began, but Jon interrupted him:

"Four years ago, he murdered his own brother, the King of Eleonis and was banished from Eleonis for it. That was the day he forfeited his name and title." The guard stared at him in disbelief, as if he couldn't believe that this young man might know something like that.

"He will want to talk to us." Jon concluded. Without further questions, the guard disappeared into the castle.

*

Soon, the gate opened and a dozen men, led by Iohan and Beodin, who stopped dead in their tracks when they saw their visitors. Even dripping wet from the rain and dressed in simple clothes, there was no mistaking the young man standing there flanked by two girls. Ionathar had grown up. He was no longer the pretty boy who had lost his father four years ago, but had grown into an athletic, handsome young man who looked Iohan in the eye, angry but composed.

"King Ionathar Angeleos of Eleonis, what an honour." Iohan said disdainfully. He'd spat out the word King as if it was the worst insult he could come up with.

"I heard what you're doing here. You have the people call you my Prince, you're conquering the north and you keep slaves, not only for your army, but also for your bed. And apparently I just found the part of my army that deserted after your banishment. From what I've heard you're planning to attack Eleonis." Jon answered coldly. For a moment, he looked at Beodin, then his eyes went back to Iohan.

"You're still not one to mince words, are you? Straight to the point. Some things never change. I respect that, seriously, but I'm not entirely sure what you might do about it here. This is not your kingdom" Iohan said.

"It's not your kingdom either." Jon replied. Iohan laughed.

"Maybe so, but Queen Thearida has given me leave to do as I please in her kingdom, which practically does make this my kingdom, and Eleonis will be mine soon too, and when I'm done with Eleonis, I'll go to Lupear and Aguilear. It's time those lands had a proper King once more, rather than some weakling. Riarcos would be sorely disappointed in his weak and cowardly descendants." he said.

"Says the man who killed his own brother. Makes you wonder in whom Riarcos would be disappointed in, doesn't it." Jon replied dryly.

"Just look at you, boy, you're in no way fit to be King. You have to rely on girls to get anywhere. You think to much of women, a mistake your father made as well. A boy like you shouldn't be King." Iohan taunted.

"And who's fault is it that I am?" Jon asked.

Iohan didn't respond to that. He'd come closer to the three of them as he was speaking and now turned his attention to Lona, but when he spoke, he still spoke to Jon.

"I didn't think it possible, but your sister got even more beautiful since the last time I saw her." He lifted his hand to touch Lona's face, but she grabbed his arm before he could.

"And deadlier." Lona hissed and dropped his arm in disgust.

"Like mother like daughter. That's a shame. It really is time for her to get married and learn her proper place in the world." Iohan said and turned his attention to Mireanda. He looked her up and down and walked around her.

"And who might this sweet girl be?" he asked when he stood infront of her again.

"Nobody a dirtbag such as you should be messing with." Mireanda replied. Iohan laughed and was about to touch her, when he froze with a surprised grunt. Both Mireanda's and Jon's dagger rested against his throat.

"Don't even think about it." Jon snarled. Iohan smiled at him sheepishly and layed his hand on her waist, but his smirk disappeared at once when Mireanda plunged her dagger into his side. She pulled the blade from the wound and Iohan stumbled backwards with a painful groan.

"Little bitch!" he screamed and tried to lunge at her, but Jon's fist landed right on his fresh wound and brought him to the ground.

"Bastard!" Iohan cursed before turning to his men, "And you sons of dogs didn't see anything? Are you completely useless? Finish them!"

The soldiers pointed their weapons at the three and Beodin was about to swing at Jon, when he froze and fell backwards, a green-feathered arrow protruding from his forehead. While the soldiers still tried to find the source of the arrow, Lona, Mireanda and Jon had already woven their way out of their ring and sped down the bridge.

"You morons! Don't let them get out of here. Crossbows!" Iohan ordered, but when the crosbows were loaded, the three were out of range already.

"Run, you cowards!" Iohan yelled after them. For an answer, an arrow struck his left leg. Green fletching.

"Zairah." he grumbled, and now he saw a fourth figure running away with the other three.

Completion Date
September 11th, 1217