King Heralla's carriage was a simple one, nothing too grand or extravagant, nothing that indicated much wealth or specialness. This had been a deliberate move on his part so that the people who would see him travelling would think that he was actually just like them, just as simple and just as normal. It was the small ways like this that made Heralla a strategic leader, always thinking how to become favorable to the eyes of Wontarians.
Now, King Heralla sat inside the green coach with glass windows and gold-colored curtains, perched atop a wooden wheeled wagon. In front, two brown horses pulled the vehicle into motion, led be Fredrin and Rodanka.
Inside the carriage, Heralla surveyed the fields and meadows through the windows. The sun glowed brightly above them, birds flew from tree to tree, and butterflies sailed through the wind and the grass.
Wontaria was beautiful, but why was Heralla certain that this was now all just a facade? Any second, he thought, this illusion would break and shatter into something. . . dark.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to banish his anxieties from his mind and body. He closed his eyes, put his hands on his lap, and inhaled through his nose, exhaled through his lips. This had been a technique he'd learned from a guru in Trelifax, the territory up north.
They had been travelling for an hour now; they would soon be driving through the front gates of Witcher Price. Not for the first time, he felt grateful that Khamene had chosen to study at a university in Oraphim, not too far from the castle.
This would be a surprise visit, yes, and everyone at Witcher Price would be glad to see him, but that was all a cover for King Heralla's true intentions: to know more about the attack on campus yesterday, to be able to decide once he'd gotten all the facts whether this was related to the crime in Larthas, or he was just overthinking things, the product of an overactive imagination.
"We're almost there, my lord," Fredrin said, which broke Heralla's meditation. That was no bother; he felt like he was getting close to something, at least. Genuinely, he was also getting excited to see his son once again.
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Witcher Price University was by no means the largest university in Wontaria, but it certainly looked the most striking. There were only five buildings that were built in a semicircle, two more behind these that served as the dormitories, all gothic-inspired, made with beige stone and had pointed arches and spires. The large windows were slightly tinted, and curving along the outer walls were intricate stonework that presented different flowers. Garneth Hall, the center building, was the largest of the seven, extending into two wings like an eagle about to take flight.
As the tall wrought-iron gates parted to open and the carriage entered, King Heralla was awed to see Witcher Price once more. He had graduated from a much smaller and simpler university back in his home-territory of Whitfields, closer to the countryside.
They rounded the garden in front of Garneth Hall, around the stone fountain in the center with two winged stone angels spouting water from their lips.
The carriage came to a stop. Fredrin got down from his horse and walked to the side of the coach to open it for the king.
By this point, students who had been milling about were looking over, turning their heads to the direction of this carriage, wondering who it was inside.
King Heralla stepped out of the vehicle. His red silk robe flowed around him, the neckline of his tunic adorned with vibrant rubies and emeralds.
Chancellor Kline walked out of the entrance of Garneth Hall. Upon seeing the king, he bowed his head and placed his right hand on the left side of his chest.
"My lord," Chanceller Kline greeted, still bowing his head.
Everyone who stood within ten feet of Heralla performed the same gesture as a sign of respect.
Heralla chuckled, then shook a hand in the air. "Please, no need for formal greetings."
Chancellor Kline looked up, his hand back on his side. "What brings you here to Witcher Price?"
"Well, I just wanted to pay a visit. Make sure that everything was going well," King Heralla replied. "And to see my son, of course."
He then realized that he didn't know whether Khamene was in a class right now or in his dorm room. In fact, he knew nothing about his son's schedule, while Yenchal had had it memorized. Not for the first time, a small pang of ache and sadness hit his heart as he thought just how much he and Khamene had drifted apart over the past few years.
But wasn't that only natural? Khamene had left home for college, and he was busy overseeing the land of Wontaria as a beloved king.
Still, a king should never forget to be a father to his son, a traitorous voice in his mind told him.
"Very well," Chancellor Kline was saying, bringing Heralla out of his thoughts. "The students and professors will be ecstatic to learn about this. Shall I give you a tour?"
King Heralla brought a hand up. "That won't be necessary. I would really just like to see Khamene now."
Chancellor Kline nodded. "I believe that he's not at a class at the moment."
"Really?"
"Yes, my lord. I don't know Khamene's schedule, but I am more familiar with his mischief of a friend Ron's class schedule. Ron's supposed to be at his horseback riding elective right now, but the professor has cancelled class. I know that Ron and Khamene share that class."
"Could you lead the way?" King Heralla couldn't stop his smile. He didn't realize how much he'd missed Khamene. It had been more than a month since he'd last seen him.
Chancellor Kline stepped aside and outstretched a hand towards Garneth Hall. "Certainly, my lord."
The two men walked side by side, entering the building. They stayed in silence for a few beats, Heralla inspecting the interior of Garneth Hall. The floors were marble, the walls white. The ceiling was made of glass, and Heralla watched as two birds glided past, their shadows forming on the marble floor.
Passing students ogled at him, some walking around him in a wide gait as if they were not allowed to come into any contact with him, others bowing their heads and putting their hand on their chest.
They passed classrooms filled with students, professors in robes and tunics. When they had reached the end of the wing that opened to the way to the dormitories, they were the only two people in sight.
They walked outside. The field on this side of the school was silent, tranquil. The grass was yellowish-green, and bushes with berries grew on the far side on their left. About a football field away ahead of them was the boys' dormitory.
King Heralla saw this as his opportunity. In a hushed voice, he said, "I believe that there was an incident here yesterday."
Chancellor Kline looked at him with narrowed eyes, as if trying to piece together how he could have heard about that. Crow's feet were etched on the corners of his eyes, his dark skin beginning to sag into jowls.
"Khamene told me last night," Heralla added. "How's the student?"
"She's recovering at the nearby hospital," Chancellor Kline said. "She's lost a lot of blood, but she's stable now."
Heralla nodded. "What attacked her exactly?"
Chancellor Kline shrugged and shook his head simultaneously. "We don't know. She said that it was a large creature, maybe an animal."
"Nobody saw whatever it was?"
"None that I know of. Of course, students are talking, throwing different words around."
"Words like?"
Another shrug. "A bear, a lion, a boar." Then Chancellor Kline chuckled. "The general consensus seems to be that it was a Skullor."
Goosebumps went down Heralla's skin at the name. In the deepest recesses of his mind, alarm bells went off.
"But, you know, it's just kids telling each other scary stories," the chancellor said. "I wouldn't worry about it, my lord. The student is safe and in recovery. She'll be fine."
Heralla nodded again, then, a rumble from a distance, somewhere just beyond the dormitory.
"What's that?" King Heralla asked, eyebrows up to his receding hairline.
Chancellor Kline did not respond. They stopped in their tracks and listened for the rumble that transformed into a quick clopping sound--clop, clop, clop. A moment passed, and a young man riding a horse appeared from the side of the dormitory. Another boy was running after the speeding horse.
"Slow down, Kham!" the boy with antlers coming out of his head yelled.
"I can't!" Khamene yelled back, his auburn hair bouncing rythmically with the horse's galloping.
The horse sped on, running closer and closer towards. . . towards King Heralla.
"My lord!" Chancellor Kline grabbed Heralla by the shoulders and pushed his whole body to him. They fell to the ground.
Heralla's teeth gritted as he braced for impact, a groan escaping his lips, his eyes closed so tight that his temples began to throb.
Four feet from the two men on the grass, Khamene pulled on the hair on the horse's mane. The horse whinnied in pain, but stopped. As he dismounted, Fredrin and Rodanka appeared, running from Garneth Hall.
"My lord!" Fredrin was immediately on his knees, one hand cradling the king's head, the other on his shoulder.
King Heralla swallowed, opening his eyes, then saw Khamene. Father and son stared at each other, surprised to see the other.
This was not the kind of welcome King Heralla had anticipated.