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Sevyr's words struck my mind with absolute force, his voice echoing in my head as I fought to access the situation.
“What do you mean she was kidnapped?” My lips spilled out slowly as my mind fell into a stupor. Waves of darkness lapped at my mind, each torrent bringing physical and mental weakness. A mental fog settled in my mind, and I drowned in the abyss.
“Ken! Hey, are you alright?” Sevyr said quickly as he caught Kensada, saving him from the rude suddenness of hitting a wooden floor. “Kensada, are you okay?” Sullen orbs looked back at Sevyr, filled with darkness and emptiness. “Mog! I need some help here!” He cried out, starting to buckle under the additional weight. A half-awake moogle peered out through the kitchen, rubbing sleep from its eyes as it hovered toward him.
“Master Sevyr, what is the matter? What's happened to Kensada?” The uniquely high-pitched voice of Mog rang out as it stopped in front of Sevyr.
“He's passed out, I told him Zoey was kidnapped and he passed out. I didn't do a thing.” Mog looked over Kensada, picking up a limp arm and dropping it. He clasped his paws together, and murmured something quietly to himself, as if in prayer. Sevyr groaned slightly in relaxation as Ken's weight was shifted off of him. A pale-green light covered Kensada's body, as it levitated into the air slightly and drifted toward a bench near the fireplace. Mog slowly extended it's arms and lowered them, effectively lowering the young squire gently onto the bench.
“Mistress Zoey was kidnapped? By who?” Mog quirked out after a heavy sigh, releasing Kensada from his magical cradle.
“Orcs. The Cathedral sent a group out on a mission to try and make peace with them. Not long after they set foot outside the town they were ambushed, no word on where they're kept or if they're even alive.”
“I see... what do you intend to do, Master Sevyr?”
“That is a decision that Ken will need to make- when he regains his senses.” Sevyr declared as he took a seat at the table, turning the chair so it faced the bench toward the far side of the room. “I've never seen him crack like this before, Mog. She must really mean something to him.”
“Prince Trion!” A feminine voice rang out through the stonewalled chamber. “I have urgent news!” A red-haired Elvaan jogged up toward a large rosewood desk, her heavy footsteps slightly padded by the elegant carpet that ran to the door. A larger Elvaan turned in his chair to face the intruder of the silence, a azure-covered book in his hands as he glanced over the table to peer at her.
“What is it, Curilla.” The prince said rather uninterested as he lowered his eyes to the book once more.
“The Orcs took hostages today- from the Cathedral- and are demanding we give them our key to break the seal of the Waghroon Shrine for their safe return.” Curilla said, one eye staring intently at the prince, the other covered by her hair.
“Deny it. That key is worth more than a few lives.” Trion said sternly, his gaze not lifting from his book.
“What do you mean it isn't worth it? Our duty to the citizens of San d'Oria is to protect them! Not-”
“Silence, Curilla! This is my final decision on this matter.” Curilla lowered her head and kneeled before the table, eyes glaring at the ground.
“As you wish.” She got up and turned to walk out of the chamber, heavy plate boots colliding with carpet roughly.
“Curilla.” Trion's voice echoed throughout the chamber, She only a few feet from the door. “Our duty to our citizens is to do what is right for them. Not what they think is right.”
