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Kinguin’s rains cries a story
From a frown who once bathed in glory
Her face that the land holds to remember
In memories lost to fear and false pleasures
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Soaring high after delivering a resounding barbaric “COOOOOCK!” Success, Peacock sees the clear sunrise sky morphing gray. Large dark clouds curtain the sharp light of the horizon but there is still some sunlight blinding the bird in his flight back to the capital. It should be warm in the capital, knowing that every are jampacked together like ants in a colony. Gusts of hissing breeze push him from side to side and there is a strange tingle in the air. Maybe because it is his first time as a flying peacock or there really is something going on with the coming weather.
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He passes high above Fogsight fort where the bloody mess is being cleaned by soldiers in black smoke like leashes. A lady with a red wavy hair sits on top of a hunched child while drinking a champagne of crimson liquid—but with how pale her skin look, Peacock assumes them to be a vampire. ‘Do I have to report this?’, he thinks. Then comes screeching from behind. He looks over his wings and see gargoyles! Wretched bats with rat bodies and long chicken legs. But their wings are the scariest of all, large and thrice their size keeping them at a pace faster than Peacock. Angry winds pushing down any bird under them straight to the ground. Their hungry gazes lay on his body and Peacock can feel run up his spine.
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Diving and trying to tackle Peacock but he has masterfully flowed and flap around the air like a master agile swimmer. He quickly outflaps his pursuers, leaving them breathless and hungry. The three inner walls of Kinguin are shadowed and grim like the under wing of those gargoyles. The people below pull in their washing from lines strung between houses, shoppers scurrying about and stall owners opening umbrellas. Smokes from chimneys thicken with less billowing plumes. Perching on them would probably paint his feathers black so he flies to the higher plateaus—to the third plateau.
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A subtle tang mixed with the ugly scent of garlic abundance. Still, it is quite the freedom to be flying around anywhere, and…what a scandal he is seeing through the eldest princess’s room. At the golden desk is a female working on writing letters, completely focused but her eyes cannot help but gaze at where the rough and stoned moaning is coming from. The royal bed creaking and bobbing about with the blanket covering the debauchery happening. Oh, the horror in the female writer’s face—though Peacock commends her calligraphy works. Still, that’s a lot of letters and what an uncomfortable situation that must be for her.
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Peacock flies for the leftern towers, might see another scandal in Princess Thean’s chambers but alas. There is no one inside. But there are some in the left-wing library. Men in black robes with the familiar symbol of Yralla! Those men, are like the one that raided the bandit camp he visited yesterday and made a destructive mess. With the Princess Thean sitting in the middle of this cult like gathering. Speaking as if she is scolding them…is she using those cultists as her way to clear the barbarians around castle? Although, he has heard about some people talking about how Thean’s soldiers have been earning reputation by helping the neighboring villages and fields with strange magic…strange magic being the Heshapes they control!
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Goodness, it seems today really makes Kinguin cry for these rulers. Peacock hesitates and hates to do it but he has to check on that evil psycho who almost made him into roasted peacock. Where, oh where could she be? Not around the towers, not in her bedroom, not around the wings or courtyards. Maybe the underground…?
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“Have you seen Princess Rumen?” A maid asks a chamber guard, “The prince he invited asks an audience for her…”
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“And who is this prince?” raising his sword at her
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“Well, he is a dwarfized daemon and…just thinking about him gives me the shudders. His name is Naberius. And he just arrived at the basement just now and…and…he is eating all the dwarfs in Princess Rumen’s jars…” her legs fail her as the horror jitters her jaws and shake her eyes. Then the guards say that Princess Rumen is at the Second plateau holding an execution as well as an experiment. By which the Peacock quickly flies over to the said plateau without any delay. It is expected that Rumen would someone find a way to invite an unlikely guest. A demon for goodness sake. Why didn’t the magister even put-up restrictions on who they are allowed to invite.
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The second plateau is around at the second layer where the amaranth believing houses still remain. Rumen shows up and as expected, jeered and cursed at by the people around here. But instead of hating it, she loves it. Saying as she takes off all her bearings, “I love you~ I love you second plateau! ~ Your hate is my love and I cannot express how grateful I am! It is all because of your love~ That I am trying to keep your heads from being beheaded~” The guillotine drops on a poor elderly woman and the basket, suddenly comes alive with teeth, devouring the head. Terror shrieks the audience while the manic princess laughs at the successful experiment. “I have done it! I have made a head eating basket!”
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He did not know what to expect from this experiment of hers other than gruesome and gore. Truly, twisted. Peacock drops off the amaranth armor as well as the letter at the friendly old man gatekeeper before asking about where Ober is. Yes, even the guard and gatekeeper are surprised to hear this peacock, flying and talking. In which they respond, “Last have heard, the lord magister is somewhere down at the flat plateau inviting nobles who comes and go in the brothels.”
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Peacock gives his thanks and flies down to the flat plateau and to the area which is known for their brothel services. But two soldiers, standing in the shadows of a narrow alleyway, capture his attention. The air hangs heavy with the scent of stale ale and the distant chatter of the bustling marketplace. Bringing himself to perch on a balcony as he listens in,
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Soldier 1 leans against the rough stone wall, his eyes scanning the empty street. "Have you noticed how quiet it has been lately? It is as if all the criminals and slavers have vanished into thin air."
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Soldier 2 nods thoughtfully. "Aye, it is a blessing, I would say. Finally, we can catch our breath without constantly chasing after those scoundrels."
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Soldier 1 furrows his brow, "I am not so sure, Edric. This sudden calm... it feels like the quiet before a storm. Something's not right."
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"You think it has something to do with the upcoming Mægfæge festival?" asks soldier 2 who started scratching the ground
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Soldier 1 scoffs, waving his hand dismissively. "Bah, do not waste your thoughts on that nonsense. The festival is nothing more than a ploy to bring attention back to those nobles and royals, what with all the wars raging in the other kingdoms."
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Soldier 2 shifts uncomfortably, his armor clinking softly. "But what if the criminals use the festival as an opportunity to strike? They could sabotage the celebrations, cause chaos amidst the revelry."
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Soldier 1 raises his head to look up the grey sky, "Aye, you might be right. Those bastards are cunning. Remember that slippery thief, Raven? Or that ruthless slaver, Karn? I would love to see their faces when we clap them in irons."
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Soldier 2 nods, mischievously pushing two ants to fight against each other, "Speaking of faces, I would not mind seeing a few pretty ones at the brothel. This patrolling has grown tedious, and I could use a bit of an ease."
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Soldier 1 chuckles, pushing himself off the wall. "Now that is an idea I can get behind. Let us head over there, see if we can find some whores to help us forget about all this festival nonsense."
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And the two soldiers step out of the shadowed alleyway, making their way towards the brothel, their conversation turning to bawdy jests and laughter. Peacock duly flies onto the rooftop of another roof, and since they are heading for the brothels, he follows them.
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Peacock immediately hates the air of pink, sweat, and the odor of what humping bunnies smell like after their messy business. Although the streets are well paved with a line of bushes and brothel houses that looks like they belong to the third plateau. Wealthy clothed individuals walk around with harlots clinging to their arms. A thief, here and there, stealing pouches and wallets.
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The two soldiers shyly went on in a brothel that they think are new, soldier 1 pushing his friend in before the bare ladies come out and pull him in as well. ‘Now, where is the lord magister?’ Peacock thinks as he flies around the musk. Looking around the houses—not wanting to look at the humping shadows inside nor does he want to hear anyone moaning like there Is no tomorrow.
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Then, around a brothel where wagons of wine are set at its stables, Peacock sees lonely Merry peacefully asleep with the golden carriage behind her. Flapping himself down to his friend and greeting, “Merry, Merry, do you know where the lord magister is? I would like to see him.”
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And Merry blows her nose towards the brothel laced with vines and a signage that says ‘welcome to Havanna’ Peacock looks around the windows, seeing that the establishment seems closed with the unlit candles. Filling every corner with the dark greys of the clouds above. Peacock flies to the third floor where he hears a lady and certainly the lord magister.
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Arguing about the price of accommodation and entertainment. And the lord magister, strangely is not holding a cup of tea. His head Is bowed before the lady and his shoulders are uninterested with their talk, leaning back on the couch and trying to relax.
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“I will accept the offer,” The lady says and catching Ober’s sullen gaze, “But on one condition that is all the same with the rest of the lodging owners, we will not build housing around Fogsight fort. We are not trying to make a village and certainly not a branch near that foggy marsh. I am now sure that you will be much favored by the wenches if you actually go out your way with setting up the scene and everything but not the people. That venue alone is like throwing coin to the mud expecting for it to double the next day.”
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“Alright, I heard you.” Letting out a long, drawn-out sigh,
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She watches as Ober slump his disinterested head again, noticing how the lord magister’s hands are not taking any effort to gesture. Seemingly, tired already. “Why a festival all of sudden? In the midst of war, where the resources are already lacking.”
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And Ober says nothing, only that he stands and tell the lady that he will go.
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“You are just like those wenches” The lady says, “expending resources on the wrong things, and not even trying to better Kinguin.”
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Ober walks out of the establishment, sighing, before heading for another brothel. Peacock quickly flies after the old man, “Hey Tea sucker!” Touching down in front of Ober, “Stop and look at me~ The perfect bird has done what you said,”
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“Oh…” Blackened eyes showing a slight glint of life, his rumbling and raspy voice lilting with a glad smile. “Peacock, did not expect you to comeback.”
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“HAUGHH? As if I came back for you!? I only came back to tell you that I finished your job and maybe…work out these wings a bit more because I’m bored.”
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“You seem to like yourself now”
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“I have always loved myself thank you~ But indeed, this body you have given me is better than being a peasant in the barracks. Butttt, knowing my failure of assassinating you which reminded me now!!! That you be careful old man. Because the one who asked me might come back with more than ever.”
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“You are worried about me, even what I said to you…”
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“That--- well, I just found the trip enjoyable and truly better than being stuck in the barracks waiting to be killed…Where’s that brat?”
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“Isaac…” Ober’s head slowly drops and the grayness of the clouds shadows his entire wrinkly face. Lips bitten with clenched fist, “He is missing…I do not know where he is.”
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“Anddd what do you mean by that? He is your servant should not that be the other way around?”
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“I cannot ask the guards for a missing person request because the princesses have shut me off, using the task I gave to them as their excuse to leisure around. But I always have a tracking magic on his person, but I cannot track him. Somehow, I cannot”
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“Pathetic of you, knowing that you are the best mage in Cyndoryll.”
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“It is my fault…”
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“GAAAAAH! This sulky sky and mood just make me depressed instead of feeling proud of my very good job!”
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“Yes…you did a good job inviting the people Peacock”
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“Huhu, and maybe I can help you find this brat. I owe him for putting himself in-between me and that psycho princess back at the Servants hall.”
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“Alright…Then let me tell.” Ober utters silent words before the brothels and streets around them shift into air and they found themselves in a dark and quiet alley. “I cannot go there because I still have to invite many others for the festival.”
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“Do your due preparations old man, just tell me where I need to go.”
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“Fly for the foggy marsh.”
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“T-there? Hey, hey, that is like sending me to my grave—there is the lochness in there.”
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Ober ponders for a second before honestly telling him in a calm disclosure, “My magic won’t work in there and there is no lochness.”
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“W-wh-wait what!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE IS NO LOCHNESS?.”
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“That fog is someone else’s magic and the lochness is simply a shadow that they use to ‘play’ as a backdrop.”
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“I do not follow you, old man.”
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“Just head for the foggy marsh. That’s the only last place I think where Isaac is. And, carry these with you.” Bending the space in front of him for a black box to appear. “This contains magic nulling coats that I always ask Isaac to wear. Wear one yourself, though it might be a hassle. It will allow you to go in and out of the mist without going around in circles.”
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“That sounds good and horrifying at the same time.”
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“Be careful of the feral monsters that live there. And, if you encounter childlike figures, I am sure you have heard the myth of the four smaller lochness in the mist.”
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Peacock nods,
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“They are the Children of the marsh. Stay on their good side. That is all, find Isaac and bring him back.”
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“Gods, you make it sound so big when I am just finding one person.”
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“Hurry, you don’t want the princesses to start mobilizing and get caught in their clearing. Isaac will surely get caught as well.”
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“RIGHT! You said that those wenches will do a monster hunting competition. Ugh, still though. I just need to get Isaac out of that marsh and done.” Peacock wears one of the cloaks, overly oversized as he flies, carrying in its talons the black box. Flying and flying for the western Foggy marsh. With thunderclaps booming behind him.
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A veil of clouds that never rise. In he dives and instantly feel his feathers tingling and pulling as if something is trying to pluck him off. A giant dome of vines and mountain that he has never seen in the map before looms into view. The marshy pools below are ashen instead of muddy and there are floating white wraiths—no, Bryals! Why would there be Bryals in a marsh! He expects them to be in a forsaken undead forest, not in here where wraiths should be the only residents!
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He finds a tower with a lone window to perch into. Inside are countless bones of dead mice as well as dung almost as if someone has been living here. Could it be Isaac? Peacock dares not to make any noise. There is a torn off finger with a noble’s ring inside. Fairly new fresh too. Then suddenly, the living tendrils of roots and vines find their way into the tower and start wildly hacking it to rubble. “COOOOOCK!” Peacock flies with all his energy, trying to escape these living tendrils before finding a boy on a frozen ground. How is that part frozen when the rest is a marsh! The figure of the boy reminds him of what Ober mentioned about the children of the marsh. Wraiths suddenly charge for him but he does not look like he will block their attacks. Still feeling proud and brave, Peacock dives down, elongating his tail of feathers to sweep the undead squad, actually hitting the to his and the boy’s surprise.
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The brown-haired boy looks up at him before pulling Peacock close to his side and cutting tendrils of roots with wind slices—without even bending or needing to utter a single silent word. ‘T-this one is scary’ Peacock thinks
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“I-Ipos…M-my- nn-ame is” panting where his saliva slings from down his chin, “Well, w-whoever you are, gre--at U-U-Unyan beast. T-thaa-nk—than-k-kks fo-r sa-a-vving -m-mme.”
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“M-my PLEASURE! ALWAYS MY PLEASURE!” Peacock takes flight once more before quickly flying away to find one and only boy, Isaac. “Where are you, where are you brat? Ughh, this place makes me want to shed of my skin and actually burn myself into a rotisserie.
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