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satohqbanana · 9 months

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Aveyond: The Prince and the Witch Chapter 4

Previously in the last chapter:

Nicolas and his bodyguards travel to Candar and break the bad news to Ella's mother, while Lars IV takes his chance to investigate the group who once defeated Heptitus, freed Shaenlir, and saved the world. Later in Thais, they rendezvous with certain expectations and the sorcerer fails to make a good impression on the healer. With tension this early in their journey, things are not exactly looking up for the group.

The trip towards Bogwood was suffocating.

On one hand, it was nice to see blades of green grass stop along formations of rock and stone - a trip worth two days on horseback. It was also nice to see those gray hills of pebble and ash become wet marshlands of murky green and dull orange, especially in the husky haze of the afternoon sun, after two days of hiking around the stony cliffs.

It wasn’t too nice to smell the stink of the mossy waters, though. And it definitely wasn’t nice to continue the trip with a know-it-all grasshead in the team. To boot, with Heptitus defeated, most fauna had gone more docile again, and there were no beasts for Nicolas to take his anger out on.

If only he could take that sorcerer's hair and rip it out like grass off a field.

Ava and Gavin led the team, with the Thaisian trouble trio - Rye, Jack, and Emma - on the rear, and Nicolas riding his horse in the middle, right behind the grasshead sorcerer who preferred to walk, or use his magic when he lagged behind. Lars Tenobor IV, a man of mystery. He'd rather be next to them when they travelled, but kept his distance once they settled for the night. He liked to invite himself into conversations, but he ate separately from them.

As such, Nicolas could never confront the sorcerer about their conversation in Thais.

What did that man even mean by not being sorry? No matter how Nicolas looked at it, it was his own fault that the sorcerer had been left in bandages, when strong healing spells could've easily sealed all his wounds. To boot, the council of light mages considered Nicolas the best healer in the mainland!

This was just salt to the wound, especially after his conversation with Queen Ella III. As much as the healer hated to admit it, he needed to get stronger, for Ella, and for others in the

future. And yet, the sorcerer implied that such a thing was not necessary, when he had almost died from the encounter with the witches, had Nicolas not been there to help him. Was he mad? Did he not fear death or the consequences thereof?

Now, truly, Nicolas could say that he hallucinated much of his first encounter with the sorcerer. The fumes from the witch's fires must have poisoned the healer's mind.

"Now, you, Lars IV was it? Do enlighten me," said Gavin, "You are a sorcerer?"

"Yes."

"And a prince?"

"Mm."

"...and a warlock?"

"Yes."

"That's crazy." Gavin clicked his tongue. "How do you even distinguish the boundary between sorcery and witchcraft?"

"One seeks to control vileness; the other embraces vileness to control."

"I wasn't really looking for the answer."

"Why do you ask, then?"

Dark energy emanated from Gavin, but Ava stopped him. "Lighten up, boys. We're almost there." She said that over an hour ago, and also the hour previous.

"And I'm almost at the end of my wits, wife!" complained Gavin, rightfully so.

Nicolas took a swift glance at the three companions behind him. At the least, those three seemed to enjoy each other's presences, and they were too engrossed in their own conversation to be concerned with other things.

Other things, such as the sorcerer slowing his pace to march next to Nicolas. Oh, no.

"Your friends are very lively, aren't they?" said the other prince. This was the first time they held a conversation after they left Thais.

"...what do you want?"

"Oh, don't be so cold, Nickles!"

"Don't call me that!"

"We're going to suffer each other's presence for this journey. Listen to your friend and lighten up a little! Misery loves company, and trouble is its guest of honor."

"Ugh, please, stop speaking in riddles."

"Oh, sooo demanding! Women must be sooo appalled to learn about this side of you!"

A rather embarrassing memory flashed in Nicolas' mind. Stupid beggar, stupid citizens, and stupid, stupid cheese! "...no?!"

The sorcerer shook his head with a mocking smile. "I feel sooo sorry for you."

"No, you don't?!"

The sorcerer merely cackled, a horrid noise that could not be muffled even with both his hands over his face. If Nicolas had to put up with more of this, he was going to explode.

Thankfully, they finally reached the mystic town of Bogwood in less than an hour.

Similar to the last time they visited, the witches were busy with their day-to-day lives acting on the stage, surprising each other with gifts, or trying to outdo each other in nefarious ways. The Thaisian trouble trio immediately left to find a place for the groups' steeds.

Upon hearing his voice - like usual - the witches came rushing to greet Gavin and adore him with hugs and kisses, saying things like how they missed him as they ran into his open arms. Ava was not pleased, and with her arms crossed, she was definitely thinking of tying him on the bowsprit of her ship. Har, har.

Things were rather going well, until one of the witches gasped rather loudly.

"Is that, i-is that… Lars?!"

She pointed to Lars IV, whose confident smile immediately dropped when he was singled out. The ground rumbled as Nicolas and friends tried to understand what the fuss was about, and then Gavin was shoved into Ava's arms as the witches left to gush and coo and faint over the grasshead.

This was not happening.

"A real warlock in the flesh! I can feel his supreme power emanating from his smooth skin!"

"He's so cuuute! Does he even age? What is his secret?!"

"Please make me your princess and take me to your kingdom!"

The more seconds that ticked by, the more witches covered the tiny sorcerer, the louder the squeals got. Nicolas could not believe his eyes and ears, nor Gavin and Ava. Even if the Bogwood witches were a bother, the couple had certain pride in knowing Gavin was someone who was admired by many ladies for both his charms and his abilities.

Finally, someone screeched.

"ENOOOOUUUUGH!"

It was the sorcerer, who shoved the witches away with a non-lethal blast of energy around himself. The witches yelped as they fell on top of each other, but they didn't seem to mind!

"This power… it's so overwhelming!"

"I'm never washing this cheek again!"

"He's so rough. How exciting!"

"Get away from me, you hags!" The shortie pointed his staff at the witches. "Where is Heptitus?!"

"Dunno~"

"She hasn't been home, yanno?"

"Awww, why her? Play with us instead!"

"Ugh, I don’t have time for this! I have urgent business!"

And a rather unfamiliar voice spoke out: "And what is your business with Lady Heptitus?"

The other witches quieted. The man was the professor from the witch academy, whose name Nicolas could not recall. But, it seemed like the sorcerer knew him, for the shortie grasshead sighed in relief and immediately walked up to the man.

"Professor Drake!"

"Your Imperial Highness."

The two exchanged curt bows, and immediately, the professor led the sorcerer away, with magical dark shields around them. The witches protested, in vain. With no other choice, everyone had to go back to their previous tasks.

Gavin, whose pride had taken a blow, skept his gaze towards the empty distance. Ava did not waste time hurling a rant in her sailor's tongue down Nicolas' ears. Everything was just much to take in.

It was then that a mint-haired witch plopped around to join them.

"Helga!" Gavin shouted, surprising everyone. He too seemed shaken, not knowing why he called out to her.

"Hey there, big guy," Helga said, "Welcome back. You and the Missus staying?"

Ava answered, "There's no way I'm staying in this wretched place!"

"Hm? Did something happen?"

Helga's gleeful warty face turned pale when Ava described the situation in very colorful language. Nicolas covered her mouth and summarized, "In short, it's Lars. Prince Lars Tenobor IV."

Helga cringed. "That Lars? Green hair, red eyes, so smart and annoying that you just wanna punch him so bad? That Lars?!"

"Yes. That would be him."

"Ahhh, I hate him so much that I love him… I mean! Oh, no! This is dreadful."

"Yes, yes." Nicolas shook his head in disapproval. "We know."

"I don't think you understand… oh, wait, where are my toads? They must've been caught in the commotion. Why don't you help me find them first? Then, I'll explain everything to you."

The extra chore was rather inconvenient, but Ava already stomped ahead to the swampy mangroves, no doubt eager to find something to take her feelings out on. Rye, Emma, and Jack had just returned, but seeing Ava walk away with Gavin in her shadow made them follow her too. With no other choice, Nicolas trudged along the rest of the party to seek a few toads off the marsh.

As expected, in pursuit of a nasty, smelly toad, he tripped over a large root and fell face first on the icky, stinky, mossy waters. Of course Gavin laughed at him for it, and so did Jack, and Rye and Emma, while their voices went silent, could not hide their stupid smiles and shaking shoulders.

Stupid witches. Why did Uthar agree to this plan?!

The moon was high up the horizon when they returned to Helga with nine toads in hand and slimy moss on their heads. She magicked the moss away (thank goodness) before leading them to the community building and sitting them with fresh bowls of (surprisingly) palatable soup of (still questionable) ingredients. She allowed them to eat and unwind a little before she started her tale.

"I don't know if you know this, and I know Gavin doesn't because this didn't really concern him until now, but the story's pretty famous in coven gossip. The Emperor of the Eastern Empire, Lars III, married the Queen of the Sea Witches."

So that's why their beloathed prince was also a sorcerer and a warlock. Nicolas nodded slowly.

"Apparently, he promised her the throne if she would help him graduate school, or something like that."

Rye asked, "But why would a king ask a witch to help him finish his studies?"

"If Thais runs the School of War and Magic, then the Eastern Empire runs the Shadwood Academy. The Academy has this weird culture where you have to present the proof of a 'good deed' to graduate. That's what the Sea Witch Queen helped the Emperor with.

"But that's not what I want to say. The point is, their son, Lars IV, is a genius. He graduated from the Academy at 13 years old. Then he mastered witchcraft at 16. And at 17, he began to take control of the majority of the Empire's affairs… and now, about a decade later, he comes barging in looking for Heptitus?"

Helga lowered her voice. "That guy is dangerous. Even his ordinal number, four, is such a powerful and auspicious number in their culture. Some even think he might even be a living incarnation of Heptitus herself, and even if that isn’t true, I, a bonafide witch of Bogwood, would not want to get close to this man no matter how much I desire his secrets. I have my boundaries, and I do not mess with big personalities such as Lars Tenobor IV."

Nicolas swallowed. Whatever "kindness" he saw that other night, it was definitely because he was intoxicated, confused, and half-suffocated. This story really aligned with how the sorcerer acted before them and how Uthar treated him.

Of course, Nicolas' friends are quick to gather information. They had Helga with them; she was as good a source as any right now that everyone else was too starstruck by the sorcerer.

"Helga," Gavin said, "Thanks for the tip. Your story is much appreciated, as is your hospitality. However, we're actually here to know if any of you or your friends had been, you know, visiting Shaenlir lately?"

The witch shrugged. "Never heard of it. I mean, we did know Heptitus was there last year. But that was last year, and we're still suffering that grand embarrassment. I don't think any of us had even left Bogwood ever since that incident! Besides, we don't wanna be associated with stealing whole kingdoms or something. That is so not a witchy thing to do!"

"Right?! I hate those kinds of people, really! They give us witches a bad name!"

"See?! You get it!"

The two shook hands and affirmed their shared beliefs. Ah, witches. Nicolas shook his head in distaste.

Then Rye asked, "But if Heptitus isn't here, who do you look to for guidance?"

Helga hummed for a moment before answering, "That would be the headmaster of Witch School: Master Zion!"

Inside the school, Lars IV followed Professor Drake around as he spoke of past events. The professor's explanation mirrored that of the other witches' - no one left the swamp for longer than two days at a time, and no one had seen Heptitus ever since the fiasco last year.

As Lars IV wondered how Bogwood fared, the professor opened the door to the headmaster's office.

"Good evening, Drake," an old, wrinkled warlock greeted from within the room. "What can I do for you?"

"Sir, his Imperial Highness Lars IV asks to see you."

"Oh?"

The old headmaster locked eyes with his guest. Immediately, the elder's smile weakened.

"Oh. Oh, hmm, yes… very well. Drake, leave us."

The young professor politely nodded and went on his way. The sorcerer meanwhile took the headmaster's words as an invitation to head inside and politely stand before his desk.

"Master Zion!" greeted the young prince. "You never work this late in the night!"

"Things change."

"So do people, don't they?"

"Sit, my dear."

The sorcerer gracefully tucked himself onto a chair as the old warlock sighed.

"I'm not as careless as I used to be, my good pupil. Now I run after the slivers of daylight in hopes of fixing the present that suffers from the past."

"So you can live a pleasant future - or whatever remains of it, yes?"

"Mm. Now, tell me, what brings you here? You never visit unless you're desperate for answers."

The sorcerer looked into the distance with somber eyes, for his former mentor was right. "I think that what I fear the most has come. I've no confirmation yet as that matter had never really been my priority, given my situation."

"Perhaps you should make it a priority this time. You cannot let this blow out of proportion."

"But I'm not ready yet. I'm not strong enough yet."

"And so you waste your time entertaining the monarchs and their cronies. Out with it. What is it that you truly seek?"

"Ah, I currently need the seal of the Bogwood coven on this document."

He pulled out a scroll from his bag. Magic spilled from its every edge and corner as he unfurled it. It was empty, save for the Pendragon insignia towards the end. Zion raised a bushy eyebrow.

"What would you use the seal for?"

"Some witches crossed Prince Uthar of Thais; now his bride is in a deep curse. The curse is a strong binding spell made with light magic. As I was the one who dealt with the fiends, I suggested investigating the witch covens to find the culprits in the name of Thais. If you agree to give me the seal, I'll swear your innocence to the prince."

The old warlock laughed. "Swear the innocence of Bogwood to a little prince of a long-standing regime that made its foundations by crushing its enemies under its heels? You are playing a very silly game, my good pupil. Don't tell me you plan to beg for the other covens' seals too?"

"I was ready to fight, but Uthar decided his brother should fulfill a role in my plans, and that changed a lot of things." The whole incident was not a very good sign of the things coming his way. Lars IV did not want to endanger the life of people he barely knew - but more than that, he did not want to endanger the life of Prince Nicolas Pendragon.

Zion gave a deep sigh once again. “My dear, your ways always worry me. You are one of the best witches I’ve ever taught, someone whose craft is almost akin to Lady Heptitus’ herself, and yet you so easily throw your life away in unnecessary atonement."

"Please, Master. I know it will come at a price, but I'm prepared."

“As is with the ways of the witches, my dear. Our aid is never without a price.”

The air stilled. The sorcerer bowed his head and cast his eyes onto the floor. He would not leave unsuccessful.

"...very well. I will help you."

“I owe you much, Master.”

“Oh, you might not say that once you’ve earned the seal. Now, go back to your companions, and meet me by the stage during the witching hour.”

“Thank you.”

The sorcerer took the old warlock’s hands and firmly pressed his own forehead against his master's bony knuckles. When he lifted his head, Zion only gave him a sad gaze. With that, Lars IV left.

Time to give the news.

On his way out, Lars IV heard loud voices coming from outside the school. It was his merry band of misfits and Professor Drake. It didn’t take much sleuthing to understand what was going on, really.

“We need to see this Master Zion,” insisted the pirate woman. “Let. Us. Through!”

“As I’ve said, he’s busy and he won't see you!”

On cue, Lars IV opened the door with arms spread wide. “Miss me, my lovelies?”

The warlock professor seemed to be both relieved and even more exasperated to see him, while the sorcerer’s precious charges showed astonishment and surprise on their faces. My, my, wasn’t Lars IV such a celebrity?

“Good news!” announced the sorcerer, “Master Z has agreed to help us! He’ll give us the rest of the details later, so we should get some rest first.”

Drake no longer had words to say, it seemed. He sputtered a few syllables before managing to say, “Please be on your way! Thank you!” and slamming the school door behind him. Ah, Zion’s protégé was such a treasure.

“And where have you been?”

And so were Lars IV’s charges, really. He turned to the pirate and grinned.

“Talking with Master Z, the guy Heptitus entrusted to lead the education for her young recruits here in Bogwood. He’s also kind of a big deal in witch society, though I don’t really expect you to understand–”

“We barely understand anything and you’re not making things easy for us,” interrupted Nicolas. “What makes you think we’re going to simply take your word for it?”

And really, he made a point. It was true that nothing the sorcerer did ever really made a positive impact on the group, but it wasn’t like he personally had a choice. Besides, he was still wearing this mask, and this mask had certain requirements to fulfill.

“In that case, why don’t I give a quick diagnostic on you and your friends, and tell you if there’s a curse on your shoulders?” Such as little games like this - not that the sorcerer actually expected something out of it.

Of course, the proud healer was not too convinced. “What good does that do us when we have a warlock–”

Luckily enough, the warlock in their group spoke up. "Aha! Right! We never really asked Dredel to take off that boot curse off you, Nicky, did we?"

Nicolas turned red, but no real word could escape his tongue. Was he really cursed by a Bogwood witch? A petty curse that their warlock companion never dared to lift? What an interesting turn of events!

"There's a curse on you?"

"No?!"

Lars IV rolled his eyes as he approached Nicolas, who backed away and eventually froze when his back hit a nearby tree. The healer looked rather terrified; poor thing!

Lars IV then clarified, “I’m not going to do anything to you. I legally promised your brother I’ll return you in one piece, you know?”

“Does that really matter?! I don’t trust you either way!”

“Oof, that hurts a lot, you know.” Even if Lars IV expected this reaction, it still did sting.

Nevertheless, he wanted to be a man of his word.

He took another step forward and raised his hand over Nicolas’ chest. Visibly, the younger prince trembled, and the sorcerer hesitated as a bitter memory surfaced.

"...I don't mean any harm," he murmured, and though he didn't know if Nicolas heard his words, Lars IV knew the younger prince didn't like his actions anyway.

“G-get away from me you rotten, good-for-nothing, fiendish monster–”

Then a slight and unseen wave of dark magic sparked. Nicolas yelped and jumped forward, clinging onto the tiny sorcerer for dear life.

“S-stupid boot!”

Seriously? A little pranking spell? Of course. Why would a proud warlock slap this little curse away? It was a prank, where the sensation of a kicking boot would touch one’s rump. Someone in the group wanted to have a little laugh at the prince, it seemed.

As Lars IV felt himself being shoved away, he focused on the disappearing trace of magic to feel for its caster. His senses passed through the hums and whispers of magic, searching for the familiar signature. Ah, yes. It was someone named Dorothy or Dew, whichever it was, yes? Where was she? There. There, near the swamp waters, with her little presents for pranking. The spells were weak in intensity, but binding enough to last a lifetime. It would be easy to dispel such a thing.

And whatever the name of that caster was, Lars IV would like to give her a piece of his mind. Later.

He refocused on Nicolas and his companions. The healer looked really frazzled, so a little help really would be nice, wouldn’t it?

“Don’t move,” warned the sorcerer before filling a hand with dark energy. “Dispel!”

As expected, the healer moved away. The dark magic hit one of Nicolas' companions, but of course, nothing happened.

“Y-you hurt Emma!” accused the healer as he hid behind the pirate. Really?

This ordeal became the longest chase Lars IV had to give another grown adult in a long, long while. How did the Thaisian castle survive with this pampered brat living in their halls?! His nanny must’ve had the time of her life serving this stubborn, energetic boy.

“Stay still!”

This time, the sorcerer used both of his hands. Fortunately, his spell finally reached Nicolas. Lars IV smirked as he felt the previous binding spell break… along with another. There were two petty binding spells on the guy???

It was not too petty, it seemed, as the second spell being broken made Nicolas wobble. Lars IV caught the healer in his arms.

“Are you okay?”

“I-I think so… What did you do? What was that?”

“I merely dispelled the curses you had on you.”

“Curse…s? Ugh, my head is spinning!”

The healer groaned again. Lars IV held a hand filled with magic to the healer’s forehead, in an attempt to soothe what pain Nicolas felt. The sorcerer then looked up to see their companions catching up with them.

“Is he okay?” asked the archer.

“Yes. He simply feels the effects of having the curse lifted, but… I felt two binding spells on him. I saw the first one earlier, the one with the boot. What about the second one?”

Lars IV’s five remaining charges tried to reach into their memories, and he watched them very carefully. The thief didn’t really care, so his words didn’t matter; the archer looked stupid, so his words didn’t matter; the swordswoman did not seem too concerned about her liege, so her words didn’t matter.

"Dunno 'bout that one…"

However, the pirate, whose eyes temporarily widened before darting to the warlock next to her, before she denied anything of the sort.

Aha!

“If you say so,” he said, carefully lacing his words with a not-too-revealing tone of voice, “Well, we should get some rest. We still need to be up by the witching hour.”

He’d also give the pirate a piece of his mind. Later.

#it's been a while since i touched this story haha #some of the technical lore (like the distances) might be vague?#i always love making characters have political banter #by the way there are two spells on Nic in canon one for the boot thing and one for you-know-what wink wink #forced character relationships belong to the same category as hypno for me. so. no to that. :(#the build up is exciting but the real deal with the witches is even better #i hope to write 3 more pairs of witch deals and witch tasks (quests) this year <3 #is that enough tags #aveyond the prince and the witch #annelaurant writing #anne's av2 au?#aveyond #av2

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