[ P ] The relentless

why be a king—

Walking the streets of Rionna was not something I normally did. But here I was. My one good eye scanned my surroundings, most of the masses making way for a soldier of the army. A lowly lieutenant. My rank disgusted me. My part in it all disgusted me. But I kept along with it for now, not knowing my next steps, not knowing where my plan would take me. But the ambition burning rivers in my veins drove me onward, and so I would be that low ranking lieutenant.

I had a soldier on either side. I planned to train them well. They’d need to know how to fight properly in order to survive, army or not. I let them shadow me, two of my greatest prodigies in my ranks. Their eyes were alert, the one on the left even more alert due to my blindness there. I ordered for them to separate and observe the crowds and wolf-watch while I slinked away to a quieter spot, a slightly more secluded area.

I sat, but did not dare hang my head. Instead, my sight was leveled with the horizon line. Even though my mind warred and battled, raging inside - nothing but chiseled stoicism could be seen. Monochromatic aesthetics nothing short of regal perfection, wearing these scars proud. With the sun high, and the wind low, I soaked in the moment to attempt and offer peace to this unyielding mind.

—when you can be a god?

code // art by whiskey

note to self: before uncle's death

While Eleanor dutifully ignored the multitude of requests to return to Calyx house and apologize to Mutt for how she had treated him, the interloper made quick work of her uncle's reputation, picking it apart piece by rotten piece for the buzzards to feast upon. His enemies in court and the victims whose misery he paved his stairway to success with were all too eager to snatch up the uncovered truths of his treachery. It spread through Rionna faster than wildfire catching in dried bracken.

And their vitriol extended to the niece he must have been grooming to take his place. For seemingly the first time in her life, Eleanor's abrasive demeanor and haughty attitude weren't being excused out of pity for the poor orphan girl who'd lost her parents. They served only to paint a target on her back.

She was becoming accustomed to the negative attention following like the shadows extending from her feet. Wolves approached her more and more to demand she answer for her uncle's perceived crimes, but she resisted, staring them down until they backed off. This method served to deter most of these bitter wolves, except for one, a man whose debt to Cecil had resulted in his son being thrust into lifelong servitude.

"Go on and admit it." He leveraged his size to intimidate her but it was the fanatical look to him that cautioned Eleanor. "Or are you as cowardly as your bastard uncle? Can't speak the truth?"

"I don't know what you mean," came her honest answer as the noblewoman tried to unsuccessfully put distance between them. He advanced with every step she took to retreat, growing more uncomfortable by the minute.

art by ashon