Foxcall Tower

Prologue

Matteo and Anton stood either side of the double-doors, both bored out of their minds. They had been standing there for several hours, and were to stand there for several hours more. They were used to these great lengths of standing, but it was still difficult and tedious for mind and body. From where they stood, they could both see the palace garden just outside the open window, more specifically, the tops of the fruit trees.

The capital was built in a warm climate, though was not too hot. It was a place that rained often, but never too heavily, and there were very rarely any droughts. The forests around the capital were healthy, green, beautiful, and thriving with wildlife. Just like within the palace gardens.

’Oh look’ Matteo whispered, craning his head. ’Did you see that butterfly?’

’No, I missed it’ Anton whispered back. ’What was it?’

’It was a Poplar Admiral’ Matteo replied.

’Ah’ Anton nodded. ’They are lovely. Lovely blue…and the orange border…very pretty.’

’Mh-hm.’

Another hour of silence passed.

’How’s your aunt? Anton spoke quietly.

’She’s doing alright’ Matteo said, ‘I can’t say anything to my wife but…’ he fell silent for a few moments, Anton said nothing, waiting for him to continue. ‘She still hasn’t shut up.’

‘Who? Your wife or aunt?’

‘Well.’ Matteo chuckled quietly, ’they’re both giving me grief.’

Anton smiled.

’Good thing I moved away’ Anton said. ’I don’t have to deal with such grief.’

’You miss your family?’ Matteo turned his head towards Anton, keeping his body completely still.

’Of course I do’ Anton replied, staring at the leaves of the trees through the window, hoping for a glimpse of another butterfly. ’It’s just nice to get some freedom. Maybe this is sort of like having a glimpse of what its like to be um…you know…an only child.’

’Oh yeah. I forgot you had a thousand siblings.’

’I have seven’ Anton replied patiently. ’All sisters’ he sighed painfully.

Another pause.

’Your eldest sister is getting married isn’t she-?’

There was an abrupt sound from the room behind them, muffled through the wooden door.

Anton and Matteo became suddenly tense, eyes wide.

They both glanced to each other, then glanced to the door between them.

’What was that?’ Anton whispered.

’How should I know?’ Matteo hissed back.

They both looked back to the door between them, waiting, listening silently. But no more sounds came.

’It…’ Anton spoke slowly, ’sounded like glass…breaking’

Matteo said nothing, but continued to glare at the door.

’Should we go in?’ Anton asked quietly.

’Are you insane?’ Matteo snapped, though continued to keep his voice quiet.

’I’m sorry I…’

’Just hush’ Matteo interrupted, facing ahead again. ’Say nothing.’

They both faced ahead again, falling back into the silent statues.

The day grew late, night came, and went, and the guards switched several times. As their shifts came to an end, different men would come to replace the ones before, and the incident with sound of breaking glass was forgotten.

However, come morning, when the maid arrived to give breakfast to the queen, a shocking discovery was made.

The queen was dead. The sound of breaking glass had been her knocking over several cut-glass decanters when she collapsed, suffering from a stroke.

Her body was cold by the time it was discovered.

The news spread quickly; calls rang down the corridors of the palace.

‘The queen is dead! The queen is dead! Free the Prince from the tower!’

****

Born to a poor family in a small town, Brunhilde grew up as an only child, her father was a shoemaker, her mother a laundress. She excelled in school and grew interested in politics.

As she matured in age, she organised strikes and protests for revolutionary movements, joining political parties, and running several newspapers. A civil war followed, and she used her role to manipulate her way into a position of power, eventually becoming queen, removing, and exiling her opponents.

In her youth she wanted to make her country a better place for the working poor, eventually however, she became a dictator, who ruled with absolute and unwavering control, working people to death and seizing land. Millions died through starvation, not even her closest supporters were safe. She became more paranoid over the years, creating a cult of obedience around her.

She executed her enemies using The Red Army, sending others to working camps. After an assassination attempt, she became suspicious of even her own doctors. Eventually dying of a stroke, unable to receive any help as everyone was too scared to enter her room.

She was found the next morning by the maid who entered to give the queen her breakfast.

Had she received help immediately, she may have been saved. Her early death was brought on by years of an unhealthy lifestyle, but doctors were too scared to treat her, for fear of being accused of trying to harm her in some way. And so, they all told her for the longest time, that her symptoms were nothing to be worried of.

Despite the atrocities she had committed in her shortened life, she was revered by many as a great ally, to an even more formidable and evil force elsewhere in the world.

War was a complicated thing, and life was not so black and white.

She was a hard worker, working up to fifteen hours a day. When she drew deeply from her pipe, it meant she was in a good mood.

Brunhilde rarely slept, suffering from insomnia. She would spend many nights instead staying awake, caring for the sick animals that were bought to her. She had an animal sanctuary within her palace home, and would care for animals of all kinds. From small rodents to horses, and was unwaveringly patient towards them. She refused to eat any animal product, and loved her dog very much. Moreso it seemed, than her own children, of which she had one left.

At the end of the day, she read books on poetry, and nature, and the stars.

Brunhilde was given a grand funeral once it was all over. Her body preserved and put on display.

She looked truly magnificent, beautiful, angelic even.

As for her son, her last remaining child, he was nowhere to be found.

****

Chapter One

The Patchwork Girl

It was a hot and stuffy day. The tall figure easily made a path for himself through the crowd. Towering over the heads of the others, people would move back to allow him space, mostly out of fear, for it was clear at a glance that this was no ordinary being.

The tall figure had his face covered by a large piece of black cloth, which concealed nearly his entire head.

The figure was dressed in incredibly fine clothing. The materials he wore were of velvet and silk, black and red in colour and lined in gold. The cuffs of his shirt were made of fine jewels, glistening in the bright light of the sun.

It was noisy here, very noisy, and clustered. The constant murmur of the crowd was a little unsettling for the tall man. He would usually walk in fields of tulips, or the singing forests near his cottage home, or simply sit quietly inside, perhaps in his greenhouse, or in his rocking chair by the fire.

He was a recluse by nature, and loved the peace of nature undisturbed. But every once in a blue moon, he would venture out into civilisation.

Today was one of these rare days. Today, he was drawn to the market, in search of a very specific item. A flower seed for his garden, of a type that was rare in these regions, but common in lands oversea.

He found something else in its stead.

The tall man slowed to a stop, turning his head to the side towards the low wooden bench beside him, upon which sat a line of women.

Their wrists were bound in leather, and each of them wore thick leather collars, a heavy metal hoop hanging from the front. Running through this hoop were chains, holding them in place.

Slaves. They were to be sold soon at auction.

One of the women caught the attention of the tall man, the one at the end of the line, and he could not look away.

‘My gosh…’ the tall man breathed, ‘you’re…’

‘Ugly’ the woman finished; head bowed. ‘I know.’

‘No’ the tall man shook his head. ‘You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen…’

She raised her head then, eyes wide in disbelief. At that moment, a gust of wind lifted the cloth that covered the tall man, and she was able to get a glimpse of his head.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she let out a slight gasp. What she saw beneath the cloth was not what she had expected.

Beneath the black fabric was the skull of an animal, with curved horns and eyes that glowed gold in dark sockets.

The girl knew instantly then what he was. He was a mage, a rare creature, and one both greatly feared and revered.

The girl never thought she would ever see one in her life.

Foxcall Tower

The mage sat back in the carriage, letting out a slow breath.

He turned his head to the side, looking outwards through the open carriage door. From where he sat, he could see the girl a short distance away. She stood with her back to him now, leaning forwards over a little patch of flowers, watching the bees hovering around.

She seemed to be mesmerized by them.

‘Beatrice?’ the mage called out. ‘Would you come over here please?’

The girl straightened then, turning away from the flowers, and moving over towards the carriage.

She slowed when she came closer to the open door, hesitating a little.

‘Come’ the mage said, his face and head forever expressionless.

His eyes were glowing in their sockets, and the bone was warmed from the light of the sun, from the time he had spent outside.

‘You do not need to be afraid’ he spoke kindly to her.

Beatrice pursed her lips, something she did when she was unsure, silent for a moment longer before speaking.

‘I am not afraid.’

‘Oh?’

Beatrice dipped her head, brushing a strand of black hair behind an ear.

‘Your skin is so beautiful’ the mage said to her.

‘You’re the only one to have ever said that to me’ Beatrice spoke quietly. ‘Perhaps the only one to even have thought it.’

‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ the mage responded. ‘And I think you are utterly beautiful, a truly living masterpiece.’

‘Why do you think that?’ Beatrice uttered, unconsciously touching her patchwork skin. ‘I… uh.’

‘What were you looking at over there?’ the mage asked.

‘What was I…? Oh. Just the flowers.’

‘You like flowers?’

‘I do.’

‘Why?’

Beatrice thought for a moment.

‘Because they are beautiful’ she replied.

‘And what makes them beautiful?’

‘I don’t really know.’ Beatrice said, ‘I guess the bright colours?’

‘So, you don’t like flowers that are black or dark colours?’

Beatrice fell silent. She said nothing for a time, but the mage continued to watch her expectantly. He was waiting for an answer from her it seemed. It was hard for Beatrice to tell. He was a difficult being to read, it was something she would have to get used to.

‘I think I would like dark coloured flowers’ Beatrice replied at last.

‘So it’s not the colour,’ the mage said leaning forwards. ‘If it’s not the colour, then what is it?’

‘I don’t know.’

The mage leant back into his seat.

‘We are leaving this place’ he told her. ‘We are going home.’

Beatrice pursed her lips again, making herself move.

She stepped forwards, taking the mage’s hand as he offered it to her. She climbed into the carriage. Once she sat opposite him, she drew away, shrinking back into herself.

She gave a slight start when the carriage began to move.

‘Who… who is driving?’ Beatrice asked.

‘Nobody’ the mage replied.

Beatrice blinked uncertainly at this. She leaned to the side, trying to catch a glimpse through the narrow window behind the mage.

Through this window she saw the front of the carriage. She saw no one sitting in the driving seat, but she saw a large creature that resembled an ox, pulling the carriage. It was a heavyset creature, its fur shaggy, is head slung-low.

Beatrice sat back again, feeling very uncertain. Whatever was out there, was a creature she had not seen before, but it must have been something of high intelligence to direct itself like that, either that, or it was relying on instinct and knew its way home.

Beatrice looked towards the mage. This being was her master now, her owner. He had bought her at the auction. She had not expected to see him again after he left her on the bench, chained with the other women, but he had returned, and had purchased her when no others had placed a bid.

No one else wanted her, because of her skin.

Her chains had been removed now, and she was able to move freely and without restriction.

Beatrice watched her master, opening her mouth to speak.

’You…. said your name was Vladislav.’

‘Speak up child. There is no need to be so meek. You are a free person now.’

‘Do I not belong to you?’

Vladislav shifted in his seat, avoiding eye contact. It was almost as if the topic made him uncomfortable.

‘Well…legally yes but…I um…...’ he reached into his coat, pulling from one of the deeper pockets a folded slip of paper. It was the contract he had to sign before the slave had been handed over to him, it was the buyer’s agreement from the original buyer. The one who had owned the girl before him. ‘Here’ Vladislav said.

Beatrice watched mutely as Vladislav tore the contract up into several pieces, before tossing them out of the open window of the carriage. They were carried away on the warm winds, to become lost in time.

‘There’ Vladislav said with satisfaction. ‘Now there is no evidence of your enslavement.’

‘The seller still has a copy.’

Vladislav gave a snort; he appeared to be irritated.

‘Ok, so the seller has a copy. What if I go back and burn it?’

Beatrice’s eyes lowered to the floor of the carriage.

‘I suppose…that would remove all evidence of ownership.’

Vladislav nodded then, seemingly pleased with this, letting out a slow breath.

‘So’ he began, tilting his head towards the outside world as the carriage trundled on, ‘tell me, where you come from? Do you have family?’

Beatrice’s expression saddened then, clearly reluctant to answer.

She only replied after a long while, all the time Vladislav simply watching her, giving her no choice but to speak.

‘I have no home to go back to, if that’s what you’re asking’ Beatrice whispered, head down. ‘And I won’t run away either, if that’s what you were getting at.’

‘Haha.’ Vladislav let out a hiss. ‘Even if you tried, you could never escape from me. I will always find you.’ He bowed his head. ‘Don’t look so worried. I won’t treat you cruelly like your previous masters did.’ Vladislav leant forwards in his seat, reaching a gloved hand out to touch Beatrice. She flinched only slightly as he touched her arm. Upon her patchwork skin, could be seen there, nasty red lashes made by a whip, alongside several bruises. ‘I want you to consider yourself my equal’ Vladislav said to her. ‘You have nothing to fear from me.’

‘I…. could never’ Beatrice shook her head. ‘You are a mage. Even if I wasn’t born tainted like this….’

‘Your differences are what make you unique’ Vladislav told her. ‘Do not hide it or be ashamed. Wear it like amour, for it is beautiful.’

Beatrice listened to his words silently, choosing not to speak once Vladislav had finished.

After a time however, as Vladislav continued to watch her, Beatrice broke the silence.

‘Why did you buy me?’

‘Because I wanted to. It’s as simple as that.’ There was a pause. ‘I think you will fit in just wonderfully in my home. I live alone. Well…. I don’t. I mean…’ Vladislav seemed to ponder over what he wanted to say for a moment. ‘There are no other people where I live, but I have an assortment of different creatures. They are I find…. far more enjoyable company than humans.’

Beatrice bowed her head.

‘I look forward to getting to know you’ Vladislav said. ‘I want to see your true personality. I want to make you feel safe, enough for you to come out of your shell.’

Beatrice said nothing to this.

‘The journey will be long.’ Vladislav said to her. ‘I live far away from here.’ He paused. ’Are you hungry?

Beatrice shook her head.

Vladislav let out a hiss.

‘Ok’ he said. ‘I will ask you again in about an hour.’

Vladislav fell silent then, saying no more.

Beatrice lifted her eyes, turning to gaze through the window.

The countryside beyond was beautiful.