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Stone walls encapsulated and amplified the echoes, sourced from a lord of decades dead. Humming, whispering- whimsical indeed was the tone. Gliding almost as if there were no ground beneath, the lord wavered around each nick that were set in front. Some of rotting debris, others of fallen items. The place, old and forgotten as the pendulum of time, rid of its existence from the memory of those descended from workers and the ones housed. A manor, larger than that, maybe a castle or conjoined palace. Surely, it would fix itself as the swaying of clocks- closed, locked- ticked the rust in broken pieces of shattered remark.
“Build it up with iron and stone, iron and stone, iron and stone~” came the voice of silk rasp. As the command was given, sung in matter, the scenery behind the owner began falling into perfect shape once more. Seemingly, as if the process wasn’t going fast enough, the lord sang once more again. “Build it up with iron and stone, my fair lady~”, the hallway- more so the entire wing- was shown untouched by the hands of nature and her plans of ridding of the horrid place.
Amused, happy with the palace, the lord started again. “Decorate with silver and gold, silver and gold, silver and gold,” was his voice of rose thorns, ice, “Decorate with silver and gold, my fair lady~”. As expected, everything fell into place. The lord continued on with the song until the land was almost perfect again.
The sound of stone chipping away caught the attention of the lord, breaking his melodic song of control, swiftly turning to the source. Hissing underneath glacier winds, heels clacked against the stone of the floor and too many feet away from the dusk view.
One..
Two….
Three……
Stone tore and shattered, iron and silk in differing directions from the source of the blow. When the smoke had cleared, with dust and ash, there stood a man of exotic nature. There was no question if he was royalty, more so just a son of a wealthy noble. The lord smirked and shifted gaze to the man, for he was not annoyed nor angry with what had occurred right then- he could fix it easily. “It is getting quite late,” was his voice, “so, say, you should spend your nights here until you are fit to retu-”
The lord was cut off by the annoyed tone of grasp from the other, leaning back with a frustrated look. “I’m not here to play dolls with you, nor will I carry out the duties of a guest for I don’t plan on staying long.” he spat, sounding as if he had rather drunk old venom than be in the presence of one centuries gone. Placing a jeweled band up to his crown and placing it on such. “Orion Westaria Michaelis VII, earl of the land of the first march. Your castle stays and rebuilds on the land of my people, people with the drive to explore without restraint yet you seem to have a dome of terrible aura around your dead land.”
Funny were the words spoken by the entitled prince in front of the lord, how he wished to wipe a look off of a young man’s face. He couldn’t do so, however much he wanted and wanted, for he was too focused on the true matter at hand. “Land of your people, Earl Michaelis?” he questioned. The lord hadn’t a memory or document saying the vast lands were ever to be sold, nonetheless even let it to be conquered. Why, he had spent his eternity inside the palace and once not anyone come to claim the land. As far as the lord were to be concerned with the topic, the land was his.
The earl, otherwise Orion, scoffed and turned up his nose at the question. “I command of you not to play mouse with me, haven’t you no brain?”. A more rhetorical question, surely, as the prince had no hint of pity or explanation readied in his voice. Rather annoyed, on the contrary. “My father’s father and his father claimed the land you grossly inhabit many moons before my time! Clearly they are not to be as upheld as they missed the pretentious masses of your, so called, ‘palace’.”
During this point of time, the clock fitted in the corner’s hands tuned to a time of the moon’s rising. This had caught the attention belonging to Earl Michaelis, as he hadn’t noted of how long he’d overstayed his intrusion. “I surely had not been in this place for more than half of the hour…” pondered the entitled man, if you can call him that. Orion let his pose of authority drop as he looked the area around, a scent of unidentifiable emotion emitting from his soul as his face was lit by now arriving night. The sword, one of beauty and grace, had its blade tipped to the floor as the owner looked in stupid awe at the facets of passing time. “You’re using magic, you are? The moon and her grace are not to rise at this hour I-” Orion cut himself off, he knew that the lord in front of him wasn’t to blame. Then what was? Earl Michaelis was correct in how long he spent in the walls of the ancient palace, it was evident that it was something other than ignorance to passing hour.
The lord took his steps closer to the confused earl, echoing seemingly not the onomatopoeia used to describe the sound. More so gentle winds accompanied by the full moon, a harvest moon or so. As he lay himself behind the other, gentle hands took hold of rough, young ones. “Earl Michaelis, my dear, the palace you have so despairingly broken into is stuck in the time it last belonged to,” the lord sang in lullaby tune, “a time where the day needn’t to last, the night to have reign.”.
The one of mystery, a lord forgotten to time and burned from history, made the strange earl turn to face him. Locked in each other’s eyes, each for a different reason. For the lord, it was to study someone from what he was to consider the future far past his descendants. The earl, who was in a dazed trance at the figure in front of him.
Earl Orion Wisteria Michealis never thought to analyze the features of those presented before him. Rather, he erases their pleading and desperate looks from his line of sight and only seeks out his own benefits. At the moment, though he wished to rid of the face presenting to him, he couldn’t pull away from its allure. One to never fancy nor fascinate, finding himself wrong. “What..” he started, yet the words were walled off as old mausoleums no one cared to glance at. Though, as like the dead in front of him, the walls hiding his words were being chipped away at. The second, minute, other enternities that pass have one brick by one eroded away. But as the dead were meant to stay rotting, the chipping stopped. The Earl Michealis let himself sink into the moment, his sword dropping to the ground.
“Let me speak to you a story,” the lord’s soft, raspy voice hummed, “one you hadn’t heard, one never taught.”
Guiding the now vulnerable earl in his step, the two made calmly on the floor as the walls repaired itself. With every movement, with every sway, the walls and decor came to be once more. It was noticeable to see how the earl fascinates at the performance before him, the lord made sure he was to pay attention, and how- as everything was to be repaired- the earl grew a fondness of the place.
Orion, busy-minded and caught up, did not take notice to him falling down into a fantasy with the old lord. No word was spoken as they took grace and poise with their surroundings, the scenery telling a story of a once powerful kingdom falling to ashes.
The Kingdom of Life, never spoken about to any other name, once harbored the heart of the land and souls belonging to such. However, as times grew dark, the kingdom was found by people not pleasant. The people, more so monsters in question, were that of the Michaelis family. Centuries and centuries, more than than to be counted in a yearly span, ago they had become wealthy and prosperous. How, is unsure. It’s thought they captured cities and towns, from the richest to the poorest, and stole all they proclaimed to need.
And to that they found The Kingdom of Life, the wealthiest kingdom so far. The demon of greed cast down and fully consumed their souls and minds, hearts blackened by the deeds they have done. They took capture of the kingdom, in no time they had the royal family killed off and bodies sent to their mainland. Wheat was set aflame and tossed to the villagers' homes. Fathers, mothers, parents alike all kept the salted water in their eyes from falling as they watched despair inflame what they had called a haven. They controlled vulnerability as their children and animals succumbed to the smoke and flames. Those left of the live children screamed, rasping their voices to tears in their vocals as belongings so treasured became fertilizer for the soil.
The flames weren’t ever the only culprit, the people who proclaimed themselves to be of peaceful and sound mind took great pleasures in ripping the souls out from anyone they could find. Even if a girl were to present a flower in her naivety, she was to be shunned and tossed around as if she herself were a toy to be played with and broken. They would tear dogs and cats open, as if they too hadn’t cried when a bear tore their loved fur-child apart. Women weren’t spared in any department as men had their own share in violation. The terrorists made sure no one was to be alive at the end.
A palace residing in the woods had nearly escaped if it weren’t for the pointed ends of the top shining bright in the moon’s unforgiving light. With the kingdom once loved by all in flames, they set out for the family in the beautiful palace. A kind house it was, servants always pleased by the lord’s order and beautiful by the lady’s- there was a question of doubt in authenticity never to be asked. For because of the distance that lay between them and the ruined kingdom, they hadn’t the news to prepare for what was to come.
The children were being put to bed in the moment’s time. The lady, already sleeping peacefully in the shared room with her husband, left the lord to sing the five offspring to rest. They had always favored the My Fair Lady lullaby, for more reasons than one- however, it brought a ray of hope to them mostly. In their small eyes, they saw the lullaby as something of hope. Every time the fabled London’s bridge had fallen, they were to rebuild it with better material. It was well known in the kingdom, as it matched its development. While the lord was midverse, screams of agony and fear were echoed throughout the hallways and rooms of the palace. The lord stood quickly, demanding the children to stay in bed as he made a run for the scene of action. As he arrived, his walls became painted in red and decor items broken.
What he had found was a sight to never be forgotten, people from a strange land had decimated the wall for entrance and had the structure falling to pieces. The lord knew nothing of what he could do, they were stronger than what he had on hand. As he hated to run, he did his best to stand ground. Weaker and weaker he got, forcing him to run back to his wife and children as to try and at least save them. The lord’s running was no use, the strange people had already made way to rid of any evidence of the kingdom’s existence and survival. It truly was a sight to witness, his wife mutilated and one her last breaths and his children all presenting with twisted and swapped limbs. He knew he was to be next if he didn’t run from the scene.
And run he did. Into the forests surrounding his once beautiful home to maybe seek out help. No use running, it became clear as morning dew at that time. He tripped and fell into the wet ground, not able to react nor process the event occurring just five miles away. The lord couldn’t dream to fight the terrorists off, he would never dream to revive a stolen and lost kingdom, he knew his family- oh his family- was to be lost to time.
The story ended there, a cliffhanger unsatisfactory. Earl Michaelis could only stay frozen in silent stance. He wanted to believe anything but what had been shown to him, desperate for an indicator of it being a lie. There was no hope for his wishes, nothing to give into his demands. Orion took to look the lord holding onto him in the dreadfully longing eyes and wallow in self-pity. “I’m..” he started, unknowing if he were to ever finish that sentence. There wasn’t anything he could say to that. Was he supposed to apologize, run, cry, be angered- it left a taste of bitter almonds on his lips as he nervously bit the bottom one.
“Burned and charred, unknown and unidentifiable to history and his neglectful disciples.” the lord said. As a surprise to Orion, the malice imagined in the lord’s voice wasn’t present. Instead, it was sorrow and pain. “You aren’t responsible for the actions of your ancestors. However, you have shown that their dark blood runs cold through your veins and pierces into others. Unless you, Orion Wisteria Michaelis VII, can atone for the sins you so willingly carry in prideful stance..” the lord paused, backing away from the other’s desperate grasps to leave a three-foot distance, “I’m afraid you won’t ever leave this place.”