Darkness has shrouded the Kingdom of Alvion, the wicked Serpent Queen, Malva Alderton, rules the kingdom with an iron fist of tyranny and oppression.
After the murder of her brother, King William Alderton, the Serpent Queen claimed the throne illegitimately from the King's daughter, Princess Cecilia Alderton, and immediately had the young princess jailed under false pretenses of plotting against the Queen.

The young Princess Cecilia has spent the last five years locked away in the dungeon of Proud Spire Castle, a prisoner in her own home, where she awaits the day of her execution, on her twentieth birthday.

For so long she has rotted away like a common criminal as the days and months turned to years, her young life passing her by in a dungeon. All while her cruel, scheming aunt has ruled and sat on a throne that was promised to Cecilia as a swaddling babe by her father as he looked upon her, eyes tearful.

And now the day has come, as the sun rises on a new day, it heralds the twentieth birthday of Princess Cecilia Alderton, the day she was born, and the day she will die by the headsman's axe.



It was the early days of summer, and yet the dungeon of Proud Spire Castle was still haunted by an unfriendly chill. The cold, wet, dank prison had held criminal elements of all sorts through the past decades; thieves, assassins, bandit leaders, corrupt politicians, spies, and so forth. This was the first time in recent memory had the stone belly of the prison held a princess of the noble Alderton bloodline, the rulers of Alvion for over two centuries now.

For five years now, Princess Cecilia Alderton had been locked away in a gloomy cell the size of a small bedroom. It had a small bed that resembled a large trough, which was filled with hay and ragged cloth. A large bucket sat near the window, a crude and unsanitary latrine. Then there was the window, covered by four thick iron bars. The quaint window looked out into the prison yard, where the Princess Cecilia would be executed in several hours, at noon exactly. The whole of the castle and all of Dalhorst city would be flocked around and about the prison yard to watch as the daughter of the late King William was publicly beheaded for treason against Queen Malva Alderton, her aunt, the Serpent Queen. A truly gruesome and tragic sight for many to behold.

One under serving for one such as Princess Cecilia, a young girl, trapped in the schemes of her power hungry aunt.

x

A sound suddenly echoed down the long prison hallway, the sound of of an iron door opening and closing; the latch turning, the door squeaking open, and the iron door slamming shut. One might say it was more of a brief chorus of sounds rather than a single sound. The opening and closing of the prison door was immediately followed by the clopping sound of boots on the stone floor, walking at a rather quick pace.

Cecelia was the only prisoner in her block currently, and the time of morning and the fact it was only one person approaching her cell indicated it was the jailer, more than likely bringing her food for the morning. But no, it was not he. As the footsteps drew near, a familiar yet unwelcome voice called out, the words echoing in the prison hallway.

"Good morning, little cousin."

No sooner had these words been spoken than the man behind the voice revealed himself, now standing before the iron door that sealed Princess Cecilia within her cell. It was Cecilia's cruel and twisted cousin, Malcolm Alderton, her aunts son, fathered by her late husband Ambrose, who perished when Malcolm was only two by the bite of a snake that had somehow entered the bed chambers of he and wife Malva. The snake mysteriously ignoring the now Queen and biting only her husband.

Malcolm stood before the imprisoned Cecilia arrogantly, as he had many times in the last five years, gloating and taunting her and mocking her misfortune.
He wore a simple red tunic with red and white striped sleeves, brown formal trousers, and shiny black boots with prominent gold buckles. At his side hung his sword, which was more of a decoration than a weapon, as he had never used or even practiced with it, using it as nothing more than a tool to cruelly stick into servants or peasants that got in his way.
His hair was combed over and neatly rested on his head. He smiled at Cecilia with that wretched, arrogant close-mouthed smile, one eyebrow arched dramatically and his cheeks riveted by deep dimples.

He spoke again,"Oh, and I nearly forgot; happy birthday as well."

x

Malcolm's smug smile widened slightly into a narrow grin, the dimples aside his mouth deepening as he leered at his cousin, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well," he said,"I came to bid my farewell to you, as I won't have the chance come this afternoon. Mother is looking to have your execution proceed swiftly and without unnecessary ceremony. I'm told it'll be a simple process, you'll walk to the block, hear your final sentence before the entire public of Dalhorst, and then, well..."

He made a downward hacking motion with his left hand, his cruel grin holding true as he did so. He raised his hand back upward, crossing his arms again as he gazed upon his cousin. The young girl whom he once envied as the heir to the throne of Alvion, whom he regularly bullied and tormented, mainly out of self-denied jealousy and bitterness, now stood behind bars before him. So many times he had looked upon her here in the dungeon, malnourished and frail, ragged and unwashed, and each time the vindictive joy seemed to grow within Malcolm, and today, it was at it's peak. Oh how he would savor watching her head roll across the block, an absolutely delicious sight to come.

"I must say Cecilia," Malcolm said,"in the end, everything will work out for the best. My mother will rule unchallenged as the rightful and deserving Queen of Alvion, and I will inherit from her a mighty nation, rivaled by none and respected by all. And as for you, you will get to join your father in The Void, as a plaything of Baraxis for all of eternity."

Malcolm snickered cruelly and obnoxiously before continuing,"I'm not sure where they'll bury you. As a dishonored member of the Alderton bloodline, probably in the lower depths of the royal crypt. Personally, I think they should grind you into chow for the royal hounds, but that's not my call."

x

Hmph, thought Malcolm,someone's rather resilient today.

Malcolm was rather disappointed at Cecilia's currently neutral disposition. He had hoped to get one final rouse out of her before her execution and passing on from this world. Over time, Cecilia had conditioned herself to withstand his bullying and wicked sense of humor, which had grown to annoy him in the later years. How he missed the way in days past that she would become fitful and angry, and even tearful at times, over some of his devious and sinister antics. Malcolm didn't let his disappointment show, he would not give her that final satisfaction of besting him in the end, of rising above his treatment of her.

Still, Malcolm knew there was no point in further pushing Cecilia. He had played his trump card too early it seemed, which was mocking her father. She undoubtedly knew that he was just seeking a reaction from her, and he saw little point in "hammering the wall" as the commoners said.

Still, might as well get in another jab or two before my departure. He thought.

"You know Cecilia," he began,"I do regret in a sense that you must die today. Notice that I said 'in a sense'. True, you are a treacherous, smug, homely, thrice-cursed harpy, conceived by union of a foolish codger and a shriveled strumpet of a woman. But, little cousin, I do think I'll miss you at times.
I'll miss pissing in your bathwater, beaning you with rocks, and burning your favorite books, just to name a few. Oh, the times we had, you overacting to my jokes and whining to your knock-kneed father, begging him to make your auntie thrash me when we were children. So many memories."

Satisfied with his final assault, Malcolm held back from departing, standing still, arms still crossed, grinning smugly as he awaited a reaction from Cecilia.

x

"Hmph," Malcolm grunted with a smirk,"your right, I suppose."

Malcolm had noticed the slight wavers in Cecilia's mostly stony expression, though for the most part she remained composed. And he was growing bored, to his slight disappointment, having wanted to see her crack just once more for him. Though he hadn't gotten the red-faced fit of a reaction that he desired, he knew he had somewhat cut her to the quick. He also knew that the forced composure was rather trying on her as well, which he could settle for.

Might as well head on up, he thought, I'll grant her a parting gift of a little peace prior to her death.

Malcolm uncrossed his arms and shuffled his feet slightly. With a slight though mocking nod and a partial bow, he said,"Well Cousin Cecilia, disgraced and former Princess of Alvion, I cannot say it has been a pleasure. May the headsman's axe be dull and jagged, and may you forever burn in the black fires of The Void. Farewell."

He turned to leave but caught himself just before leaving the view of the cell door,"Oh, by the way, the castle chef wished to serve you a final luncheon before your death. A grand feast of a variety of foods, sweet pastries, and fine wine. I of course denied his request. No sense in wasting good food on the dead, much less a traitor."

With a cold smile, Malcolm departed from Cecilia's presence, his fine boots clicking on the stone floor as he left. What sounded like a short chuckling could be heard as his footsteps faded away.

x

And so the morning passed. The sun cruised through the clear, blue sky above as every hour passed by, the time for the execution drawing near. The prison yard outside became busier throughout the morning. The guards began assembling throughout the yard and lining the castle walls above, their red tunics and silvery armor shining in the burning light of the sun. The people of Dalhorst began fluctuating into the crowded yard, peasant and commoner alike, all here to witness the former heir of Alvion, Princess Cecilia Alderton, beheaded for treason. A sort of temporary grandstand along the far right well had been constructed for the noble class, with a canopy for shade and wooden chairs, while the common-folk were forced to stand in the open yard, the golden sun above blazing down rays of heat, making many of them uncomfortably hot.

The chopping block had been placed on the large gallows at the far end of the yard, yet the headsman was yet to be seen. By an hour till noon, the normally desolate prison yard was bustling with people, rather overcrowded in fact. Voices filled the air, some loud and boisterous, some quiet and somber. The crowd held a mixed multitude of feelings regarding the execution to come. Where some saw it as a traitor's punishment and justice, others saw it as villainous and treachery in itself. Not all supported the ruling of Malva Alderton, the Serpent Queen of Alvion.

The silence of the dungeon was once more split by the clicking of boots on the stone floor. But these were not the polished fine leather boots of Malcolm Alderton, but rather the worn brown leather boots of a guardsman.

An Alvionish soldier rounded the corner and stood before the door of the Princess's cell. He was adorned in the standard uniform and equipment of Alvionish soldiers; a suit of linked chainmail armor, a blood red tunic worn over it, the front of which was emblazoned with a golden dragon breathing a spout of flame into the sky, the Alvionish coat-of-arms. He wore worn leather boots, hide bracers on his forearms, and on his head sat a dome shaped open faced helmet. He was an older man in his early forties roughly. A grizzly black beard on his face, skin already wrinkled with age and tanned by the sun.

No sooner had he arrived than he raised a small key from his left hand and inserted it into the rusty door lock. After a scraping rattle, the lock turned and the man opened the door wide, holding it open with his left hand.

"It's time, Your Majesty, let's go." The rugged soldier said, his voice deep and powerful.

x

The soldier reached out and gripped Cecilia's upper arm firmly, yet not harshly, as they advanced through the dungeon together. He smiled thinly at her questioning of him before turning to look at her with ocean blue eyes.

"Young lady," he said hoarsely, leaning toward her slightly as they walked,"betwixt you and I, I don't give a damned what that bitch likes."

He guided Cecilia on through to the end of the dungeon into the jailer's office, where prisoner's were logged and "admitted" into the dungeon.
The office was empty. Near the door that lead to the cells was a small desk, littered with papers, ledgers, and other oddities. On the far wall hung sets of shackles from a line of hooks. The office had three separate doors, one was the iron bar door that Cecilia and her escort passed through into the office, which the soldier was now closing and locking behind them. To the left of them stood a heavy wooden door that led out into the noisy prison yard outside. Directly ahead of them was another heavy wooden door liked with iron that lead to the castle's first floor.

After locking the door into the cell area, the soldier once more grasped Cecilia by her arm and lead her forward, past the door to the prison yard and through the door that lead to the castle's first floor. Before them lay a winding staircase that lead up into the castle itself. Without a word, the soldier pulled the door shut behind them and began guiding Cecilia up the stone staircase before them.

x

The man hesitated at her question, stopping for a mere second before continuing to steadily pull her behind him up the steps, though not ignoring her question.

"To the royal stables," he said softly and flatly,"there's a carriage waiting for you there."

They climbed the fourth and final flight of stairs and came to yet another oversized door, it's edges rimmed with heavy iron. The soldier pushed the door open slowly, peeking around it as he did, and pulled Cecilia through behind him and closed the door gently. They stood in a long and rather bland hallway. The stone floor and walls held no decoration of any sort, only lonesome tinder lanterns which hung down the length of the gray hallway on both sides. A single door stood at the hallway's end, a door of iron bars like those of the dungeon cells. This door led into the northeast section of the North Wing of the castle, the stables were just outside of the East Wing.

The man escorting Cecilia suddenly muffled a curse from his mouth as he saw a guard standing on the opposite side of the door, facing away from them fortunately.

Cecilia's escort released her and lowered into a half-crouching position, looking around to her with a finger over his lips, indicating silence.
He slowly and precisely crept down the hall, taking each step as carefully as possible, motioning for Cecilia to follow and do as he did.
He continued to stealthily approach the door, the oblivious guard never turning around.

As he finally close in, without hesitation nor warning, the man with Cecilia leapt forward and reached through the bars, wrapping his arms around the red-clad guards' neck and pulling him back hard against the iron door, rattling it slightly. The guard gagged and thrashed wildly, trying to break free from the grizzly soldier's iron grip.
Slowly he stopped his struggle, a ragged wheeze escaping from his mouth as he went limp in the arms of Cecilia's rescuer, who released him and let him drop to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud.

He then craned his neck through the bars and, after ensuring the hallway empty, turned the handle and oushed the door open, shoving the unconscious guardsman away from the door.

"Sorry lad," he mumbled,"wrong place wrong time."

x

"No," responded her rescuer,"just out cold for a while. Hopefully by the time he comes to we'll be long gone."

The man slowly closed the door behind them and looked down the hallway which they now stood in.



Both ways more or less looked the same, a large door at the far end.
Fortunately, the man knew which way to go, which was to the right. Mentally, he had their escape route mapped out perfectly. They would proceed through the door before them into another hallway, which had two directions from their point of advance, which was a right turn and a hallway directly ahead. They would proceed directly down the hallway down the length of the North Wing and exit the castle on the east side. From there, they would slip through the decorative hedge garden which ended just short of the stables, separated by a small wall with an accessible gate. They would proceed through the gate and into the stables. From that point, it was all about getting the carriage through the city and out into the countryside before the entire capital was put on high alert.

The man headed to the right, motioning for Cecilia to follow yet again, stepping past thd unconscious guard before them. He lead her through the great door into the adjacent hallway, which fortunately was empty. The hallway was elaborately decorated, unlike the prior hall. Decorative golden candle holders lines the wall which burned with yellow flame, a red silk rug extended the length of the long hall to the far door. Busts and small statues sat perfectly placed within small spaces in the walls on either side, crystal chandeliers lined the ceiling.

They proceeded at a cautious pace down the hall, the man slowing as he came to the right-side hallway they had to pass. He indicated for Cecilia to stop as he backed against the wall and peeked around the corner. A single guardsman patrolled that hallway, a tall man with a bulky wooden shield and a long sword at his left hip. Luckily, he was headed down the opposite direction, his back to them as he strolled along casually. Without hesitation, Cecilia's escort dropped low and darted past the hallway to the far side, quickly yet quietly.
Once he was clear, he looked back, still crouched, and motioned for her to follow suit.

x

The man looked at Cecilia, his face betraying no thought or emotion, holding a somewhat neutral expression. He sighed lightly and quietly said in his low voice,"I'm doing this because it's high time that true justice be delivered and what is right comes to be. Malva Alderton has no place on the throne.
You, Lady Cecilia, are the rightful Queen of Alvion. The tyranny of Malva the Serpent Queen must come to an end."

The man looked back down the hallway for assurance and quickly returned his attention to Cecilia, saying,"We haven't time for explanations right now, M'Lady, right now we must get out of here. All will be revealed once your to safety."

The man lead Cecilia out of the castle, through the wooden double door. The hedge garden lay before them, not so much a maze as a simple aligning of large well-trimmed hedge bushes that reverted back and forth between horizontal and vertical patterns. Nearby, just outside of the door, sat several wooden chairs and tables, casually placed around the open area just before the edge of the hedges. This area was more or less an area for casual outdoor relaxation.
Up above, the sun burned brightly down onto the earth, it's golden rays of summer warmth toasting the world below. It was nearly noon. The call for Cecilia's actual removal from her cell would be within the next several minutes, which meant there was little time left to spare. Within minutes of discovering her gone, the alarm would be raised, and the entire castle would be on high alert. It would take a short while after that for the city gates to be sealed. While not in total danger for time, they had to hurry and get to the stables.

"Let's go." The man said, rushing past the sitting area and turning right, walking at a very brisk pace, constantly looking around and back to Cecilia.
They soon had walked down the full outside perimeter of the hedge garden, avoiding passing through it, as it wasn't necessary to reach the gate.
Just as they reached the corner of the final hedge bush, the grizzled soldier muttered another curse and came to a ragged halt, extended his right hand backwards, indicating for Cecilia to stop.

Just around the corner of the hedge the gate could be seen, a small oak wood gate built into a large white limestone wall, which encircled the entire hedge garden. There was a guard milling around the inside of the gate, a wooden shield was strapped to his left arm and he carried a long spear in his right hand. He hadn't seen them yet, but there was too much distance between the hedge and where the guard now stood, he would see an attack coming easily.
They didn't have time to wait and see if he would move, time was against them.

The man with Cecilia reached back into the hedge bush with his right hand and began rapidly shaking a thick branch within the bush, causing the entire hedge to rustle loudly and shake uncontrollably behind them, he did this for several seconds before stopping. The guard heard it as intended, and began to quickly approach from his position, curious to the event. No sooner had he arrived at the hedge corner than to meet a powerful strike to his face, so hard it bloodied his nose with a sharp crack and sent his dome-like helmet tumbling from his head down onto the ground with a metal clattering. Cecilia's rescuer had nailed him with the point of his left elbow. No sooner had he dropped his spear and spear to grab his nose in pain before the grizzled soldier kneed him in the gut, bending him over, and then waylaying him over the head with his right fist, knocking him out.

x