Chapter Seventy Three: In Which Is A Tale Of Death, Disease, Disaster, and Prophecies, Again.

Back then, when historians were documenting the Kingdom War, they racked up the story to make it seem like legends of old.  They portrayed the Glacier Kingdom chief to be bold, brave, heroic, and maybe there were some magical powers mixed in.

He was the one who surrendered, in the end.

But of course the historians from that kingdom didn’t want to write that.  So they twisted the truth just a little.

Just a little.

So that’s the present history that stands today.  Two foes, along with their allies, fought in a battle that shook the lands.  One came out the victor, but the matter of who is debated to this day.  Sometimes it is through more wars.

One thing is clear.  None got what they wanted, in the end.   Such is the truth of a war.


Now, countless years later, it happens again.  And this time, the things the war was fought to gain is already lost.

And the chief of what used to be the Glacier Kingdom sat in his room.  No boldness or bravery.  No magic powers to save the day.  Maybe there was his daughter nervously pacing in the hallways, but nothing else.  Just a certain emptiness.  Something wasn’t there that should have.  It bothered the chief greatly.  But there was nothing that could be done.

The war didn’t last very long.  Not nearly as long as the previous.  Everything fell apart as soon as it began.  There was really no meaning to it all anyways.  Petty.  All so petty.

How would the historians recount all this?  Maybe as the story of the mysterious sorceror who stole the royal children and cursed all the land.  The man who caused the people to turn against each other in a war.  Who made the ‘crazy’ disease that ravaged the forest.  Who caused Flake to die, who caused Chief Ripple to go missing, who incited a rebellion in the Breeze Kingdom… all on that one person.

And sure, some of that may be the result of that what-his-name kidnapper guy, but it started much deeper.

Deeper.

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“Hey, Flint, the other boy is leaving,” Windy said to Flint, peeking into his room from the doorway.  He was huddling in the far corner, where it was shrouded in darkness, poring over a large book.

“Hello?” Windy squinted and stepped in the small place, kicking dust from the floor.  “This place is so old.  And dark.  And dusty.  When was the last time you made renovations?”  Her voice sent small echoes throughout the room.

Flint didn’t answer.  He merely turned the page of the book he was reading and continued looking over it.  The torches flickered, casting light for a brief moment on the pile of thick books next to him.  With the dim light and the tattered books and the lingering shadows, the whole place looked very ghostly.  Too ghostly.  Especially with Flint not responding.  Windy didn’t really want to try and talk to him anymore.  He would figure out the other boy was gone eventually.

Slowly, she took small steps out to the hallway.  The whole castle seemed to have gone eerily quiet- or was it just her?  There was a sense of calm in the silence, but it also felt creepy and suspenseful.  Something was going to happen.  Something big.  It was like the eye of a hurricane: the center of calm, but disaster coming straight ahead-

“Windy, what are you doing in my room?” asked Flint, finally looking up from his book.

She jumped and turned to face him, suddenly feeling the urge to scream.  Slowly, she tried to calm down.

“Flint… actually, I forgot what I was going to tell you about, but I’m sure you’ll find out soon.  I came in a while ago, actually, but you were so engrossed in that little book that apparently my entrance went overlooked,” Windy said, trying to sound as cavalier as possible.  “I mean, you would have thought someone coming into this little hovel of yours would at least-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Flint said.  “You want to know what I’m doing.”

“Well… yes.  Maybe.”

“Look, I’m undertaking an investigation of the utmost importance,” he explained.  “You see, this is a long forgotten volume of Brindle’s Legends and History , which was once chased out of local booksellers due to ‘unmistakable discrepancies’ and ‘inaccurate retellings’.  And they were mostly right: this does seem to be mostly filled of bogus, but it was the story of the Kingdom War that caught my eye.  So-”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with now?” Windy interrupted.  “Hate to tell you, but the war is practically already won.  Chief Frost has been absent from reality for a while now, and yesterday Chief Ripple seemed to have gone somewhere too.  What we need to focus on is getting the Breeze Kingdom back-”

“But there, in a chapter that has nothing to do with prophecies, I found a thing about prophecies-”

“-my kingdom is a vital point of trade-”

“-the one that Flake and Snow was a part of I think-”

“-and those rebellion people are going to-”

“-I need to tell Jack, I think he needs to know-”

“Jack!” Windy suddenly remembered.  “Oh, right, that’s his name.  That’s who I was coming to tell you about.  He’s leaving.  About now, I think.  He told me to tell you before he went, so either he’s still waiting for you or he went on his own.”

Flint shot up from his seated position, knocking the book out of his lap.  “Wait, I need to tell him about the prophecy thing-”

“What prophecy thing?  You didn’t tell my anything about that!  Why does only he get to know?” Windy exclaimed.

Flint ignored her, running out of the room moving faster than he ever had in his life.

“Why does he keep on ignoring me?” Windy muttered.

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It had been a long time since the Chief Frost went on his trip to the Crumbling Frozen Peak.  Maybe he should have.  Maybe with another Kingdom War, the sock puppet would regain fortune telling powers again.  Maybe.

He didn’t feel like it.  He never felt like anything, now.

The war was at a standby, the Coral, Breeze, and Forest lands were all in chaos.  The entirety of the Silver Snake Kingdom was shrouded in a fog of thoughts and and worries whispered under a cool layer of calm and nonchalance.  It was disturbing, the quiet.  Maybe even more disturbing that chaos.

At least, that’s what Jack thought when he descended deeper into the heart of the city.  Everything seemed still, and at peace, but at the same time not.  There was a sense of restlessness buried under the calm smiles of everyone he passed by, which wasn’t a lot.

The grand palace was over the ledge, far up high, looking down on the city.  Half of it was covered in clouds.  Jack wondered where Rose and Snow were doing in there.  Were they happy?  Probably not.

He suddenly wished to be at the Flame Kingdom with Flint and Windy.  They seemed to make him feel more cheery about everything.  Here, he would have to be the happy one, and who knows whether the happiness would be appreciated.  This place seemed to echo of sadness all around.

By the time Jack reached the door of the castle, the sky was pitch-black with the coming of a cold winter night.

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