Chapter 12

Cloaked in scarlet fabric and gilded in the finery that could only belong to the king's Right Hand, Exle hyr Dirk beheld the newest urchin to stumble in before the Red Clade. It had been Exle's idea to lure them here, the orphans and misfits that hid in the corners of the kingdom. They rarely came to the High Court willingly, but to build an army capable of taking Rodinia in its entirety, Exle knew that he could leave no stone unturned. As it was, his ploy had already earned the king several promising mages.

Beside him, King Morgan's voice boomed, echoing regally off of painted walls as he questioned the bony, mud covered boy that crouched on the scarlet carpet. The boy was in worse shape than most, his clothes little more than seen rags, and the exposed skin scraped, and bruised all over. To his credit, the boy did not cower or cry as others did, he simply stood, seemingly resigned to his fate. And then he finally lifted his head, and wild eyes met Exle's appraising ones. There was a thickness in the boy's lashes, and a slight pinkness to his lips. And his frame was slightly-

"Sire", Exle said, clearing his throat.

"What is it?" The king answered, not taking his eyes off of his new subject.

"That is no boy." And then Exle spoke the girl, exercising the power that his position afforded him.

"Am I correct?"

Wild green eyes opened even further, as fierce as they were afraid. The girl's movement was subtle, but still Exle noted as she gave him a shallow nod. Her features were stark and grim, and her skin void of color, as if she could see the black silhouettes of suffering and loss with great clarity. Exle could recall a time, long ago as it was, when he existed in a similar state. But he felt little sympathy, only a desire to do his job; to pick the girl's mind, to upend her secrets and determine whether she was any use to Calydon. Around him, a deeper silence had settled around the room, as the rest of the Clade, too, became anxious for this impromptu meeting to progress.

"You did not answer my question." The king spoke up with no shortage of authority. The girl held her ground, but Exle noticed the slight cringe as the king addressed her. "How did you survive the Harkscalen?"

"That beast", the girl said, her voice cracking, "killed my friends. And my horse."

Exle's eyes widened at the rawness in her tone.

"That doesn't answer the question", the king pried, fingers curing around the embellished arm wrests of his mighty throne.

"Only children of Dirk can take on a Harkscalen and survive", Exle supplied before the king's patience waned any further, "so what element can you wield?" The gods knew she was no daughter of Sŏnne. Such power was only gifted once every generation, if that.

"I have no magic. I assure you", the girl said. She dropped her gaze slightly, and a curtain of filthy, mousy hair shrouded her already bland and shadowy features.

Exle shifted in his seat, his fingers drumming pensively on the cool metal of his ceremonial staff. With a twist of scarlet fabric, he turned to one of his fellow Cladesman and motioned for the Flamecaller to accelerate the interrogation.

Edmund, the Flamecaller, nodded once beneath his thick scarlet hood, and a ring of flames exploded from the floor, surrounding the girl and casting eerie shadows that flickered on the muraled walls. In the luxury of his throne, the king leaned forward, Edmund's flames dancing in his curious eyes as the Flame and Star of Calydon shone ever brighter behind him. But as the flames grew and their heat became palpable throughout the throne room, the girl continued to hold her ground. Whether this was an act of bravery or stupidity, Exle had yet to sort out but still, her defiance continued to both frustrate and intrigue him.

Several times, Edmund quelled his magic from overtaking the girl, but the king only motioned for him to continue. No one defied King Morgan, his authority in his kingdom as hallowed as any prayer; this girl would certainly not be the exception. As it was, she did not cave until Edmund had nearly burnt her to a crisp.

Out of instinct, she lifted a hand to shield herself, causing filthy, torn fabric to fall towards her elbow and singe against the flames. Realizing this, she snatched her hand down as quickly as she'd raised it but still, Exle saw her secret, that gnarled Serpant and Blade that marked her as Arcodyte property, and served as proof that she had seen the isle of Drao'hain. At last, Edmund's flames vanished without a trace and for the first time, the girl truly cowered beneath the scrutiny of the Clade.

Slowly, the Knight of Dirk shifted back in his seat, a brief wave of satisfaction washing over him. Part of him believed that there was something deeper there, another layer of stubbornly buried secrets but for now, the girl had provided enough information to make the assembly worth the king's time.

From his position atop his throne, the king inclined his chin ever so slightly at his Right Hand, and Exle returned the gesture with a shallow nod. The girl still hadn't supplied how she survived the Harkscalen, but for now, she provided enough information to warrant her survival.

"You've been through an ordeal, it would seem." The king's voice boomed and his eyes shone like those of a cat playing with a mouse.

The girl's eyes shifted, the only sign that she was unsure how to navigate this particular situation.

"Today, you will keep your life", the king continued, drumming ringed fingers on the arm wrest of his throne. "But you are now under my direct command. You will train with the others so I can see exactly exactly how you survived the Harkscalen, and your continued survival depends on serving Calydon as I see fit. Do you object?"

"No, your majesty", the girl answered, the words hardly louder than a whisper.

"Very well", the king said with a small amount of satisfaction as he ran a hand through the cropped stubble of his beard. "Now hold out your hand."

"W-why?"

"Do not question your king", Exle hissed, unable to stop himself. He had always seen the Arcodytes as somewhat savage in nature but to commission this girl as a Skepmadyr? Either the position wasn't as important as he'd been led to believe, or her captors were as dim witted as she was.

Reluctantly, she pushed back a filthy, mud sodden sleeve, at least having enough sense to know it was the one bearing the Serpant and Blade that the king demanded to see. And then the king turned to face the one female member of the Clade, the motion unhurried.

"Ada, you may proceed."

Several years and many interrogations ago, the woman had successfully learned the delicate art of witch branding, making her the first non-Arcodyte to master the craft and solidifying her worthiness to the Red Clade.

Heads whipped in the girl's direction as she cried out, clutching one hand in the other as her knees wobbled before the king, and the painted gaze of Sŏnne where the deity had been illustrated ascending into the heavens upon the sun itself. Exle noticed as Ada exhaled beneath the shadow of her hood a few chairs away, content with her work. And then he let his eyes rest upon the reddened skin of the girl's hand, where the Serpent and Blade had been replaced by the Flame and Star of Calydon.

Regaining herself, the girl's expression remained grim but still her eyes searched the room, angry, terrified and curious all at the same time.

"Don't think you're the first one we've stolen away from the Arcodytes", the king supplied, already looking bored with his newest acquisition as the assembly of the Clade concluded.

Something shifted in the girl's expression but before anything more could come of it, the same pair of guards that hauled her in came to take her to another part of the castle. While her eyes objected, she had no strength to fight the others, let alone do much more than stand on her own two feet. Exle hadn't even bothered to learn her name, he realized as she stumbled out of the throne room. No matter, the information would be of little use until the girl proved otherwise.