Somewhere Beyond This

Steps

Maden had been alive for little over sixteen years the day her dad was murdered. It happened in a heated morning, the clock marking 3AM as a stranger entered her home without bothering to close the door behind him. The almost putrid scent of Martin's sweat made the killer gag and reel against the closest wall, coming from the city meant ambiences such as these were nonexistent, and he of all people wasn't prepared to deal with whatever customs the disgusting commoners lived with. Mostly for personal reasons, vanity amongst them, he had steer clear of the countryside, where the air was hot and humid and the townsfolk consisted of a bunch of nobodies with no place amongst the respectable citizens in higher grounds, which immediately translated to no place in the schedule of A class assassins such as himself. To him dirt like Martin got smashed by other dirt, whilst the worthy got smashed by people with enough money to take care of business in an efficient manner. It all made the killer question the reasoning behind this job, and most importantly, the reasoning behind the amount of money he was making from doing it. His contract was of course expensive enough to forbid him of asking any questions, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious of his boss' ulterior motives, what in the world could the monarch of the whole regime gain by placing such a high price tag on the head of a poor and unimportant target. Martin, who slept without worrying about outsiders or thieves, would have probably wondered the same thing had he realised the situation, but at least his death passed him by quickly.

At that same moment and just a few streets away Maden had just gotten out of the deep waters of the town's river, putting back on her clothes and making sure her surroundings were clear she began strolling home.

Little did she know that from that day on she'd be cursed with unimaginable thirst for revenge as the image of Martin's lifeless body imprinted itself on every inch of her soul.

Chapter 1

The smell of fresh bread, cologne and grease passed Maden by like a whisper, her nostrils flared and she closed her eyes, not used to such nice things she permitted herself to relive the rapid moment in her mind, ignoring her cold hands and the look of hunger and despair that came from the people beside her. At least they were very close now, she could see it in the slight change of scenery, the carriage had passed about three open diners in the last five hours, each richer than the last. It had her belly rumbling and eyes open, there was no more dried meat to eat, she only had hope.

For how long could the human body survive without food in such a gelid place anyway?

Questions, or the lack of answers to them, those were dangerous. The mind could kill quicker than starvation, that much she knew. She'd seen it happen. Children with hunger left orphan by parents with fear, parents that had given up from the very core of their being. Expecting a body to survive when only the shell is left is for fools.

Maden lingered on those people a lot, it kept her sane and focused. The scars from training and obvious lack of fat in her body also kept her focused, she repeated her primary necessities in her head and counted with a steady rhythm. Images of food and warmth filling her with want.

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Quietness, it was all very quiet. He chanted by himself the rules of courtship and serenity, keeping the room calm and still very quiet. He couldn't risk screaming or laughing, his voice had to be tender, warm and steady, silliness would not be taken lightly. The caretaker saw to that, always staring at him from the narrow hallways just beside his room, the man walked with such control over his feet that if any noise was made it was sure to scare the prince out of his chanting.

Said prince stole kick glances at the wooden clock of his room, for soon it would be time for his tailoring. His uncle had brought with him many gifts from the arid lands by the far west of the country, and just for his tailor he had bought richly coloured cloths consisting of the rarest and most beautiful materials that this world had to offer. His tailor had sent him a letter full of rather graphic mentions of it, explaining how she had welcomed the rich fabric with the sweet caress of her fingers and how it made her gleeful to have 'the prince's lovely figure' to add to it. The prince used to dwell on the feeling those fingers left on his skin whenever the opportunity of touch arose, they were magical, if his mother knew she'd have his tailor hanged for witchcraft.

"Dear princeling, please come with, best not to keep the crazy waiting" Said the chubby caretaker as he showed his balding head through the door, his eyes wandering about the prince's figure for just a little longer than what anyone with manners would consider decent.

"I'm grateful for the offer Milo, but I know how to get there by myself"

Elisa's chambers where the cosiest ones in the whole castle, making up for her disorderly ways. There were pages and fabrics scattered about on the floor, just alongside the many cards from admirers and powerful men from every city of the kingdom. In a tiny corner by a table she stood, hands occupied -as always- by some redly tinted material of hefty price. The sound of a bell followed by a mumble that came from her door halted her from her work.

"And who may it be?" Elisa asked, half worried about any catastrophe that may have occurred while she cluelessly kept to her work.

"Whose appointment did you schedule for early in October because you need to make sure the gossip for this year's day of the death is valid?"

The prince heard a 'holy' followed by a swear, then another, quickly followed by the unlocking of a door as an embrace with a rather strong grip made him fear for the circulation of blood in his arms.

"LYTH! But when did you arrive? The queen hasn't said a word, I was beginning to think I'd have to give away my garments to the sons of Xian, and you know those youngsters haven't a clue about when to stop spoiling my dresses!"

"Funny that you call free publicity spoiling Elisa"

"I don't need publicity, I need those kids and their flamboyant arses out of my work, but enough of that, come in come in, I see you have filled out a bit. I'll have to take measurements again" She said and took Lyth by the shoulder towards her sofa, muttering about the liability of his mother and how boring it had been without his presence in the castle.

"It was strange out there without you Elisa, I'm used to existing inside these halls, but the outside is filled with odd glances and weird people. I'm glad to be home"

The tailor inspected Lyth with thoughtfulness, it was to be expected, the young boy wasn't ready for the suitors, not to mention the whole lot of mentors that were surely sent by witted baron's and madam's. They had fattened him up with delicacies and stares, all wishful for the crown. The kid had just turned sixteen last August, and in less than three months they already wanted him to take it all in. Savages.

"That's because all you've seen from the outside is castle after castle and lord after lord Lyth, you have yet to see the many other things the world has to offer. Never believe your only option is to stay here, there is adventure and excitement outside these cold walls"

The burning caress of Elisa's hands mixed with the soft of the cloth lost the prince into a world of wonder, he lusted for the experiences his tailor dared to mention whenever they were alone, tales of people, places, magic and many things that he could only dream about.