The Beggar Alchemist

A crippled man was sitting near a window, a pensive look on his face. He was observing the inner court of the castle encircled by a high curtain wall, filled with young men somehow unaware of what was going to happen to them. They were laughing, talking as if what they were about to embark on was nothing more than a joke.

"Prince Raghnall," a butler called out in a soft voice. "Would you like to attend this ceremony?"

Raghnall stayed silent for a little while, pondering if it was worth taking time to look over at some men willing to do anything for a bit of food. As he was about to refuse, he caught a glimpse of a black haired man walking through the gates. He squinted his blue eyes to make sure he was not mistaken. Piercing grey eyes, dark hair and an annoyingly attractive face... No he was definitely not wrong; however he could not recognise who he was travelling with. Raghnall chuckled, and answered with a light tone.

"I'll attend. Please rearrange my hair for the occasion."

"Of course my prince."

As the butler slowly brushed his ginger hair, Raghnall thought about the reason why Rade would come back so late, considering his business undone. In truth, he knew very well why it had taken him so long, but he could not wait to see how everything was going to play out.

"Do some small braids today," he suggested to his butler.

The prince let his hair grow out of spite to his brother. Eóganán took the throne of his father when he turned five and twenty, and ruled with a rigid hand on the lands he inherited. He was a man rooted in old tradition, and loathed women more than anything else on earth, viewing them as simple tools bereft of emotions. And so, Raghnall decided to humiliate him by letting grow his hair to look like the women he despises so much; since now he was going to appear in public with him, and could not wait to see his reaction. They have never been close, and their relationship worsened the day Raghnall lost the use of his legs.

Long time no see Rade, thought Raghnall. My brother will be delighted to see you.

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Andrei was getting overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people converging in one place. The inner court was packed with men of different ages and ethnicities. Some were missing an eye while others had no arms at all; it felt like a circus gathering more than army recruits. The sound of laughter and chatter resonated in the air, to the point where it was necessary to raise your voice to have a normal conversation. It seemed that everyone knew each other, prattling on like old friends and embracing one another like family. Andrei envied them dearly.

He looked around, taking in how vast Dryfort was. Although it was nowhere near as massive as the imperial palace of Lolûne, it certainly was grand in height and meticulously carved. The remparts protecting Dryfort were made of heavy blocks of stones, sometimes higher than three adult men. A wooden and stone castle rose high behind stone buildings Andrei assumed to be the great halls. The inner court had various stalls providing for the army: smiths, saddlers, bowyers and many more. All worked in a great cacophony making Andrei almost begging for some silence.

Suddenly someone rang a high pitched bell, and the bailey ceased any conversation or activity it was doing. In a matter of seconds, a heavy silence fell where no one dared to utter a single word. Guards opened the doors of the great halls facing the court, making way for Lord Eóganán Hatchet. A small wooden stage stood before the malnourished men, and the Lord stepped on confidently looking down at the famished fellows who barely knew how to count.

"Lord Eóganán Hatchet," hurled a guard. "Bow!"

Everyone executed without questioning. As Andrei bowed he turned to look at Rade, who's expression hardened.

"Rise," commanded Lord Eóganán. He had a gravelly voice, imbued with a high self-esteem that made him take all the room. When he spoke, people listened.

A quick silence followed where everyone gazed at him, curious. Eóganán had inherited the flaming hair of his father, and his father before him, a symbol of courage and determination. The clothes he wore were already made for winter, as he was expecting autumn to not last very long. He wore very proudly the crest of his family on his chest: a red hawk. A silver crown rested on his head, its centre aboring a beautifully carved sapphire.

"Commarades," he continued. "We are here today-"

"A moment!"

A butler came out of the great hall pushing a wooden wheelchair. Murmurs scattered around the assembly, surprised and curious. Rade and Andrei observed the scene as Lord Eóganán's face turned red in anger, and Raghnall gazed back with a playful look on his face. The poor butler struggled to push the wheelchair up the stairs, making the event turn comical. Embarrassed, Lord Hatchet ordered a guard to help the butler carry the chair to the stage, and all lifted Raghnall's to the stage.

Andrei gazed at this new individual, amazed. The prince's flaming hair cascaded over his shoulders, tangled with skinny braids. Blue eyes shone like a clear spring sky, bright and filled with mischievousness. Light freckles covered his face, and he harboured a cheeky smile on his lips. He was relishing the humiliation he was giving to his brother.

Lord Eóganán looked at the crowd, not bothering to introduce his brother.

"Commarades," he continued, "We are here today because the Empire failed you."

He looked at each and every single one of these poor men, who were taking down every word coming out of his mouth.

"The Iron Crown is tarnished. A disease has taken its roots in this fair palace; an unworthy, unjust Emperor is ruling as we speak, looking down on you all. Gifting his daughters expensive dresses and jewellery and had the audacity to raise taxes? What for? To fund his offspring delicate meals and extensive travels? Your families, starving already by an awfully dry summer, forced to give the little food they had left?"

Some men in the crowd expressed their anger, raising their arms in protest.

"How much more is he going to take from us? As he comfortably sits on his throne eating roasted pheasant and exquisite food, what is left for his people? What is left for our children? For your wives? With what money will you be able to put some bread on the table for your families? "

More cheers. Lord Eóganán raised his hand signalling them to lower their voice.

"I hear you. All of you," he continued with an emotional voice. But Andrei noticed how his blue eyes were filled not with compassion, but greed. His heart ached.

Is there truly no one in this world that does not bear eyes filled with avidity? Andrei thought.

"Comrades, where the Emperor fails, I will give you all that I have. All that I own. Because I truly believe that you have the right to live like decent men-"

Cheers roared through the inner court, taking Andrei and Rade by surprise.

"I believe in you all. If Emperor Hayden Miramond refuses to lead its people, then I will. I shall lead you all to greatness, to freedom, to the lands that were once yours!"

The men screamed in encouragement, eyes glimmering with hope seeing in this Lord their path to greater days. Both Rade and Andrei kept quiet, observing around them the scene unfolding, as all began to chant Lord's Hatchet name in unison.

"Eóganán! Eóganán! Eóganán!"

A hail of applause roared the court again, and all acclaimed the Lord, radiant, who put his hand on his heart. It felt like he was savouring the chants of his name, a holy glory bestowed upon him by the heavens; or so he thought. Andrei was trying to get a glimpse of the wooden stage, trying to look at the crippled prince. When he did, he saw how the prince was putting his hand over his mouth, chuckling.