Prince of Fog: Book One

Prince of Fog

Book One

By Y.M. Rinde

Prince of Fog

Copyright © Y.M. Rinde, 2015

Cover Art by Y.M. Rinde

Book One in the Prince of Fog Series

Prince of Fog is a work of fiction.

The events and names of all individuals and organisations that occur in this book are fictitious in origin. Any similarity to those in existence in the real world is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or used in any manner, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic and mechanical methods, without express written permission from the publisher.

This book contains material intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

Dedication

To books of the past

That have taught me so much

To books of the future

That will continue to teach me

And to books of new beginnings

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 1

“The Prince of Fog is coming!” A yell could be heard echoing through the murky streets of the city as each person took up the cry, passing the word along. Kids ran from graffitied homes, some accompanied with adults, some alone. No windows lit up despite the commotion. Electricity and candle-wax were far too expensive down here.

But free entertainment in the streets was not. People were soon thronging the trash-littered streets, jostling each other to get to the front. What was the Prince like? Was he handsome? The dirty ground could not hold them back. Puddles splashed and bracken water blended in with sullied clothes.

It was a natural parting for the Prince. People pushed forward to see, then pulled back as he strode onwards. The Prince wasn’t tall by any means, but against the night sky, he was imposing. People gave him space. He was blocked from view for those in the back, but even as he walked, his presence could be felt. The heat that radiated outwards from his body as he moved, creating tendrils of steam that licked at the ankles of those gathered, made it clear where he was in the growing crowd.

For a people shrouded in darkness, hidden away from the sun and beneath the floating world above, warmth was kissing their skin again. Heat was precious here. People gathered around him, but never in close proximity. Like the sun, if they stood too close, they would burn.

“Prince Charce.” One of his close retainers said from behind him, as close as he could get.  “The house is to the right. The one with dark sheets in the window.”

Prince Charce nodded, his black hair dipping forward a little. He made a straight line for the door, people parting way for him naturally. Charce’s green eyes concealed his inner turmoil as he went up to the door, lifting a pale hand to rap on it. His visits were never a good omen.

The door opened and a scared little boy peered up at Charce, his eyes wide like saucers. “Y-Yes? Are you… the Prince?” He blurted out, astonishment on his face. What was royalty doing here?

“I am.” Charce was smiling as he reached a hand forward, hovering it over the little boy’s head, just above his hair.

“Wow!” The little boy grinned, feeling warmth on the crown of his head for the first time in a never-ending cold. “Come in! Quick! We thought you would never come!”

The little boy ran off and Charce’s face returned to a mask of stone as he turned to speak to his retainers. They looked even more grim than him.

“Stay outside.”

It was a dark and disturbed house, the fetid air inside even worse than the streets. The windows had not been opened for many days. Rickety furniture lay on their last legs. Charce walked slowly around them, letting his eyes get used to the darker world here, following in the footsteps of the little boy.

“I was hoping you would come. They said you wouldn’t, but I believed, so I wrote you the letter. She hasn’t said a word since yesterday.” The boy’s voice trembled. He knelt down beside a bed, where a sheet that had more holes than fabric, covered a figure. “Please make her well again.”

Charce’s mouth was in a grim line. He couldn’t respond. He wanted to assuage the boy’s fears, but false hope was not something he wanted to give. He could only try. He reached forward to pull back the covers.

Beneath, lay a woman, though her face could barely be seen. All over her skin were tiny black boils, all unruptured, tight from the liquid within. Black liquid seeped from under her body, where the boils had burst from the pressure of her body. The smell of decay filled the air. The Black Crest, aptly named for the shape of the boils, and the rumours that came with it.

He might be too late.

“Stand back.” Charce said, looking to the boy, making sure he had reached the opposing wall of the room. An infection would occur if any of the black pus landed on him.

Charce pulled off his dark green cloak, setting it on a worn table. He carefully lifted a chair and sat down beside the bed. He pulled off the leather vest and the clean white shirt he was wearing, revealing a pale lithe body underneath. His skin had raised goosebumps, but he ignored the cold. He set his clothes haphazardly down over the cloak, then reached down to pull off his dark boots and socks, rolling up the bottom legs of his pants. The little boy couldn’t help but stare quietly. Charce still had the bearing of The Prince despite his disheveled state.

“I’m starting.” Charce nodded over his shoulder to the little boy who nodded back quietly, watching and waiting with rapt attention.

Charce lifted and placed both hands above the sickly woman’s head, closing his eyes and breathing in and out deeply. The steam that had been following him as he walked slowly coalesced into a tight ball between his fingertips. The ball of fog softly flowed down and encase the woman until she was wrapped in a grey cocoon.

Charce’s brow beaded with sweat. He was sweating profusely now, creating a small puddle on the ground beneath the chair. The cocoon continued to hold its form, though the fog shifted and swirled around. It was seeking for something.

Seconds bled into minutes which bled into hours. The boy sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. Charce continued to hold his position, though his arms were now shaking from being held up for so long. His eyes were still closed, a deep crease on his forehead as he concentrated on his breathing.

A loud scream came from within the cocoon three hours later. Charce started in shock. There was a thud behind him as the boy hit his head against the wall. Charce’s brows knitted even more and he brought his hands closer to the cocoon, as close as he could without touching the woman. He had to hold it back. The screaming intensified, like a banshee shrieking into the night.

“What’s happening?” The little boy cried out from behind, unable to bear the awful noise. Charce couldn’t answer as he fought for each breath. “Please make it stop! Mum sounds like she’s hurting.”

Charce took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists, so tight that his fingernails dug into his palm. Blood dripped out, crimson resting on the grey fog cocoon. He couldn’t give up now. The energy in the air tremored as more and more of his blood mingled with the cocoon. It seemed to take on a pulse of its own. Charce’s whole body was shaking and the thumping of the chair legs fought with the shrieking inside the cocoon.

“AHHHH-” The cry was cut off suddenly. The fog cocoon dissipated, going back to swirl around Charce, revealing the lady underneath. The black boils on her skin were gone, instead she was covered by Charce’s blood. Red rivulets flowing down to the black damp bedspread beneath.

Charce fell back against the chair, panting heavily, his eyes wearily opening, green hazed with exhaustion.

“Mom’s cured!” The little boy cried out, immediately rushing forwards to the bed.

“Wait.” Charce held out his arm.

“Ouch!” The little boy recoiled from the heat.

Charce leaned forward, bringing his face close to the lady, green eyes focusing in intensity, searching for that spark of life in them. But no matter how much his eyes darted from the woman’s eyes to her throat to her chest, there was no movement. His own eyes became hollow as the seconds ticked by, realisation dawning.

“She’s gone.” Charce whispered quietly, his body stiff as he looked down at the lady.

“W-What do you mean she’s gone?” The little boy frowned, stepping forward cautiously. “She’s there, isn’t she? And all those yucky boils are gone!”

“I was able to get rid of the illness, but I wasn’t able to save her.” Charce stood up, pulling on his clothes as fast as he could, and then shrugging his cloak on, lifting the hood over his face. “She tried her best. You should say goodbye to her, and then… come with me.”

“W-What?” The little boy blinked up at Charce, trying to see his face to decide if the Prince was kidding. About his mom being gone. About going with him. About not being able to see her again. Living here, he had seen other people dying from the same illness, but he never thought it would happen to him. The Prince was kidding, right? But he couldn’t see the Prince’s face from the hood shadowing him. Where was his smile?

“The illness. You might have it. I can cure you if you develop symptoms.” Charce’s voice was measured and steady, exerting as much control as he could. His chest rose and fell heavily, still exhausted. “It’s what your mother would want you to do.”

The little boy frowned, shaking his head, tears springing from his eyes. “W-What? No. No. How do you know that? You couldn’t save her. She was going to celebrate my birthday. By the river tomorrow. She can’t be dead. You’re lying. I wish you never came.”

The little boy wailed loudly, collapsing into a ball on the ground. Charce stooped down, his hand reaching out, hovering over the boy’s head as he continued to sob.

“You’re useless. You couldn’t even save her. You’re not a Prince. A real Prince could have saved her. You killed her. The rumours are true. You’re the cause of the Black Crest.”

Prince Charce’s hand recoiled briefly, then reached forward again. But he couldn’t touch the boy. Not just because of the heat from his hand, but because… the boy was right. He stood back up, then turned and left. Walking past the front door and seeing his retainers line the path made him feel like the messenger of death. They stood outside along with the earlier crowd, all of them looking towards him. He had no answers though. Without a word, he strode forwards. Two retainers ran inside the house to find out more.

He had always felt like a fraud. Today was no different.

The news of his failure spread even quicker than the news of his arrival. By the time Charce was back where the people had been the thickest, there was now an empty street. Without breaking stride, he entered the carriage, waiting there. It was a few minutes later that his oldest and most loyal retainer, Wilfred, entered with the little boy sobbing onto his shoulder.

“You’re going to be staying at the Prince’s castle from now on. We have an orphanage wing there.”

The boy started crying even louder.

It reminded Charce of when he had heard his parents had died. Wilfred had tried to comfort him then as well, but even knowing he would stay at the palace from then on was scarce comfort. The little boy wouldn’t stop crying tonight. Maybe not for the whole week.

Under his hood, Charce turned towards the outside streets as the carriage started moving, the slow clip clop of the horse hooves announcing his departure. Madness was repeating itself. So much for being a Prince.

Chapter 2

“It’s the King! It’s the King! King Aether!” High-pitched screams and manly yells pierced the air as the procession passed through town. The King sat in an open-air carriage, surveying his people. His wild blond hair was adorned with flower petals flung by the dancing maidens. Dressed in rich accoutrements, he was smiling and waving at the gathered populace. His piercing blue eyes surveyed his realm. All was well and so was he.

“Oh, look at her.” King Aether whispered to his most loyal attendant seated next to him. Aether locked eyes with a buxom blond on the street, smiling at her, and then winking. There was a loud sigh from the gathered crowd and a few of the women suddenly dropped out of sight from the crowd, fainting on the ground.

“Your Majesty, might I remind you that this is a public parade, and it is not kingly to flirt with the citizenry.” Guste sighed.

“I’m not flirting! I’m just spreading love and happiness.” Aether winked at another lady, a brunette this time. She blushed and started fanning herself.

Aether held his hand out. A small blue tornado appeared over his palm and with a flick of his wrist, it flew towards the lady, stopping just above her and then flowering out into a flurry of rainbow smoke. There were gasps of awe and surprise from the audience around her. She swooned and made a move towards the carriage. Aether grinned, and started to stand up to open the carriage door.

“Driver. Hurry.” Guste ordered. It wasn’t the first time he had to stop Aether from plucking someone that caught his eyes from the crowd.

The carriage sped up, and Aether fell back in his seat with a soft ‘oomph’. Dragged along by the clipping hooves of the horses, the carriage continued on the winding road. The castle of the Overworld loomed ahead, its white walls gleaming in the sunlight.

“That was a pointless expedition. You spoiled the fun.” Aether sighed.

“The point of that expedition was to greet the public, not to impregnate them.”

“But then how will I continue my royal lineage?”

“I’m sure you’ll find some way to do so. I can only stop you for so long from getting the wrong women pregnant.”

“There are no wrong women.”

“No, but there are angry ones.”

“They only get angry if I stop flirting with them. As long as I flirt with them, my expeditions all have a point. If I don’t, then they’re pointless.”

“I doubt your point will disappear if you stop flirting with them.” Guste wrinkled his nose, remembering Aether’s insatiable sexual escapades from when the King was younger. Only work stopped him from going as far as he did.

“Pointless expeditions just waste my time. Need to keep my sword sharp.” Aether laughed as he got down from the carriage.

“It wasn’t pointless. You greeted the people. That was the point.” Guste crossed his arms.

They were quickly moving from the antiquated facade to the modern castle within. Aether didn’t even have to climb the stairs in the foyer anymore. A quick trip up the elevator was all it took to be outside his quarters. Palace upgrades were high on his to-do list as King. He liked living in comfort.

Aether sat down on the large red couch inside his room, quickly loosening the cape from around his shoulders and the buttons on his shirt as he luxuriated on the couch, a hint of his broad chest showing through his undressed state.

Guste sniffed at how Aether was in such a messy state. Ordinarily, he would have asked the King to please straighten up, but since he had a small slot of time free now, Guste supposed it was alright to relax.

“I wanted to greet them more intimately.” Aether smiled, his blue eyes looking up at Guste and taking the man in now that they were in the privacy of his room. “I could greet you more intimately.”

Guste sighed, shaking his head. “How many times do I have to tell you? The answer is no. We both much prefer to dominate. It’s not going to work.”

“Won’t you bottom for your King?” Aether waggled his eyebrows.

“No, not even for the King. Especially not for this King.” Guste raised his eyebrows. “You won’t respect me after that.”

“Ah, so you’ll bottom for another King?” Aether smirked and Guste coughed quickly. “If you bottom for me, Guste, I will still respect the work you do around here. I have always respected the work you do around here.” Aether looked at Guste with a serious look in his eyes. Then, it disappeared, giving way to a wide grin. “Well, as long as your work doesn’t get in the way of me greeting my people. Thoroughly.”

Guste laughed. “Well, then I suppose you’re going to have to be angry at me for a while. Your next appointment in an hour is to greet someone who’s not of our kingdom. Prince Charce.”

“Prince Charce?” Aether frowned. The name was familiar. “Isn’t he the… gloomy little boy I had for a playmate when I was younger? You were there too, right? He was strange.”

“Maybe he was gloomy because you kept making fun of him. As I recall, you called him Princess multiple times. Until he cried.” Guste frowned down at Aether as the memory of  the social faux pas came back to him.

“Well, he did look like a girl! He had this beautiful long black hair and big green eyes. And his clothes were so flowy, and his face was so delicate, and-”

“If I didn’t know that you chase after anything remotely attractive, I would almost assume you were in love with him.” Guste raised an eyebrow, a small smirk on his lips.

“W-What? No, of course not! I was laughing at him, remember? He was just a cute Princess to me. It should be interesting to see how much girlier he’s gotten as he’s grown. So I can make fun of him again.”

“King Aether!” Guste crossed his arms. “Please refrain from doing that. I tolerated your ways when you were younger because you were still a child. But Prince Charce is here on official business today. It would be bad if relations were to sour between our two kingdoms.”

“Oh, really? Why is that? He’s from the land below anyway. It’s not like it’ll affect us. We’re above them.” Aether laughed, getting up from the couch to relax on his bed for a short nap.

“While I cannot deny that geographical fact, he is still from a neighbouring kingdom and may aid us one day in our time of need.”

“It wasn’t just a geographical fact. They’re also economically and socially beneath us. Have you seen the photos of that place? He’s not here to greet us. He’s coming to us for aid. I’ve heard the news, Guste. Things don’t look good down there.”

“Which is why we must help them before the Black Crest spreads here.”

“All we have to do for us, is to close travel between the two kingdoms. We’re self-sustaining anyway.”

“Surely I raised you to be better than this! You can’t so… uncompassionate. They’re people too.”

“Not my people. I don’t really see why I have to take on more responsibility when there’s nothing for me to gain from it.” King Aether yawned, closing his eyes and waving Guste away. “But I’ll see how the talk goes with Princess. Maybe if he cries in front of me, I’ll help him out. I really wonder what he looks like now.”

Guste could only sigh before bowing out of the room.