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Simurg	By : Cynthermes Category: A through F > The Cronnex Series Views: 1283 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The Cronnex and its characters is explicitly owned by Trewin Greenaway and no profit has been made out of this fiction.

Chapter List
- 9
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Preparations for the funeral turned into a heated debate amongst the court officials. Katharine who was also one of the Head Mistresses in the Ishman Faith persuaded the neutral others to dissuade the king from this madness. She informed them that the man about to be given the honor of a funeral was a heretic.
Unfortunately for her, most of the court officials were loyal subjects of the king during the last war. And most of them didn’t approve of the disrespect for the dead. At the mention of Astral, the Absolute god of the dead, she quieted her shrieking banshee voice down to a cat-growling whine.
The funeral was going to be held at sunset at the dome annex of the open temple. The fate of the venue was sealed by past noon and the majority of the court officials left Katharine mumbling irately in her seat.

The king’s worry went up another notch when Cinder refused to eat even lunch saying he wasn’t hungry. Caelas apologized like he had offended his lover and tried to persuade him to eat anything the cooks could procure with their excellent culinary skills. And when he refused again, Elyn had to fill in the little detail of his dragon’s curse.
Heck, they didn’t even know the king for a day and vice versa. He treated them like the twin Nithaials of Gesryma and it was all thanks to his face. So he decided to use it to his full advantage. Cinder began with his miserable fate of incurring the wrath of the dragons by stealing a dragon egg and ended it with his adoption in Master Miermi’s custody. Well he assumed that end part anyway.
The king’s navy blue eyes visibly shone with recognition when he mentioned Alfrund’s name. Caelas told them that the master herbalist was a dear old friend and brother-in-arms. They both belonged to a resistance group, an outer circle of the Guardian Order. Together they helped the light Nithaial, Jessan to triumph against Maerdas, the fallen one.
The legendary account almost sounds familiar in Cinder’s ears but his memories remained mute. Yet his platonic relationship with Alfrund almost made the king blurt, ‘ironic’ and he had to laugh. It turns out that these two very different guardians were Jessan’s old lovers. Both of them also agreed that he looked just like Jessan fit enough to be his dark twin. The only difference they can find was his rich ruby eyes.
Perhaps their color radiated inhuman standards and scared the healer Olympia when he opened them this morning. But the king found them undoubtedly beautiful and unique.
They were alone in the king’s royal chambers. Elyn was sleeping in the adjacent prince room. The kid dozed off the moment he finished his meal and Cinder carried him to bed. One might suspect the king put the sleeper’s herb, Double Marjoram in the dish to put the boy to sleep.
“I find your eyes very attractive.” The king whispered in his ear when he gazed outside the arch-shaped window.
The hairs at the back of his neck stood up and he instinctively whirled around to face the king. Caelas’ hand crept out to caress his cheek. He reflexively takes a step back displaying that he took offense in the gesture. But the Corinthan monarch wasn’t deterred. In fact, his resistance spurred him further.
“I do not expect you to love me in return but if you would let me I will pleasure you beyond your imagination.” Caelas’ dominant hand trapped his upper arm and the other slides inside the vest to touch very firm but soft skin.
Cinder’s skin tingles but he suppressed a gasp. The hand climbs higher and a thumb brushes a soft flat nipple. He winces and prevented his powers from flaring up. All it takes is one glare and the king will be pitched across the room experiencing the same tossing he accidentally subjected his foster father one night. “Your Highness, please stop. Nothing good will come out of this and besides we do not share the same societal status.” He tried forcing himself to breathe calmly.
“I don’t care of the difference. I only see you amongst the crowd. Please… let me hold you.” The ebony-haired king resorted to begging. Damn. He was losing in their little verbal word play.
“No, Your Highness. It is Jessan you see, not me.” Cinder argues deploying the last weapon he has left to dispense. If the king doesn’t realize his half-crazed state he would have to give up protecting Elyn using his humanistic resources.
His carefully outlaid words seem to take their effect. Caelas withdraws his touch, stunned. He suddenly looks confused afterwards then shook his head. “I’m very sorry. I suppose it’s the lack of sleep making me deaf to reason. Could you… I know I have no right to ask for a favor but can you please, watch over me sleep?” The king searched for rejection with his imploring eyes and he found none.
Cinder used the time to meditate and gather more energy to preserve his current form just in case an unexpected dangerous situation presented itself on the funeral. He watched the king hesitantly turn away from him and walked cautiously towards the bed as if it could devour him any moment. But with a tired sigh and one last glance at his seated companion on the carpet, Caelas removed his modest form of a royal headdress and sank on the vast sea of a bed.
The godling decided to give him a little aid. A simple mind touch and the king drifted off peacefully. It wasn’t even an hour later when a strange sound permeated through the heavily closed gigantic door. Cinder was very accustomed to that quality and timbre of sound now.
The king started to toss and turn in bed. He groaned and whimpered confronted with the ghosts of his sleep.
The sound of the flute became louder and if Cinder were a mere mortal he too would have succumbed to the sway of the melody’s power. They were wearing down the king physically and mentally by robbing his sleep and giving him virtually realistic nightmares. And that was how they planned to overtake the throne from there. Well not if he has anything to say about it.
His ruby orbs narrowed into slits when he opened them. He seized the thread of the person concealing herself in the shadowy corner of the room where the bed separated from the indented closet. He tugged at the thread and the vile music instantly stopped accompanied by the dull thud of an object hitting the carpet.
He walked to the spot where a woman with a veil stumbled face first on the draped floor. She hastily picked herself up and proceeded to run away thinking she is still shrouded with invisibility.
“Halt! Don’t even attempt to run away Olympia.” Cinder called out even before she can bolt through the door. She froze in her tracks and turned to face him with her mouth hanging open. The veil fell to the ground and her tousled blonde hair like her mother’s fell all over her heart-shaped pretty face.
“Who are you and how did you manage to see through my magical illusion?” She demanded and her body was poised to fight. Sparks of magical power crackled in her fingertips.
“Why are you giving the king nightmares? Is that how you treat your ruler?” Cinder answered back not the least bit disconcerted.
Her amber eyes widened further if it could. “You better back down ferry boy before I turn you into a toad.” Olympia hissed and raised her glowing hand demonstratively.
The brunet looked down at his frayed sailor’s trousers and winced. “Do you witches hate sailors too much?” He immediately cast his flippancy aside and narrowed his eyes. “What did the king do to you to submerge his consciousness into a series of nightmares?”
Her face swelled with anger. “I would have slept with you if you stayed naïve and oblivious to everything!”
He had to smirk at that. “Thanks but I prefer to be toad than to soil your witchery virtue my lady.”
Her lips mimed the spell and threw a ball of magic in his direction, which he effortlessly swatted away into oblivion like a buzzing fly to the garbage dump.
Flabbergasted she tried again and failed miserably. He took the opportunity of her next slip and tugged her thread forward causing her to yelp. Her voice woke the king and she struggled to get away from her invisible leash. “Your Highness, do you remember inviting Lady Olympia in your bed chambers just now?”
Caelas rose, still half-asleep but obviously his appearance improved than the last time. He raised a quizzical brow at the pair but his grey matter started to function again. “No Cinder, I don’t recall requesting for her company. Do you mind explaining to me why you are here, Olympia?”
She visibly tensed uneasily and looked away. Cinder picked the fallen demon flute and held it for the king to see. “Do you recognize this musical piece, Your Highness?”
Olympia viewed the object like a raised snake poised to strike. Her amber eyes fleetingly watched the king’s reaction, hoping he didn’t know what it was.
“That’s a demon flute.” Unfortunately, Caelas wasn’t a respected and beloved king for no reason. He looked at the musical piece and Olympia alternately. His eyes lit up in dawning realization. “I was wondering why I keep hearing a strange ominous sound when I had my nightmares.”
“No! Your Highness this lad deceives you! He could be a heretic as well! He absorbed my magic like it was—” She bit her tongue silent realizing what she was confessing.
Caelas’ navy blue eyes narrowed further. “How dare you slander my guest in my presence! You are obviously the guilty one. Guards!” His roar of a command sent the posted guards hurtling inside his room. “Bring Olympia to the detention chamber. She is suspected of treason and I will personally interrogate her later.”
The guards seized the unmoving Olympia and dragged her beseeching form out the door. When they were left once again to themselves, Caelas appeared more relaxed but sober. “Is there anything else you need to tell me, Cinder?”
The brunet lad withdrew the crumpled piece of parchment from his trousers pocket. He wordlessly handed both the flute and the letter to the king. “Your Highness, I have delayed this far enough but the reason we truly came here was because of that indecipherable letter.”
“Who is this Aurella?” The ebony-haired monarch’s skimming eyes rested on the human name, which the letter seemed to be addressed to.
“She is Fei’s wife, our aunt waiting for his return in Scalene.” Cinder replied and watched the king’s face tighten at the contents below the human name.
“These words below… This is the demon language!” The king exclaimed and he squinted at one particular word. He put two and two together again and sharply faced him awestruck.
And as if that wasn’t enough, Cinder told the king the exact details before and why they were harshly unwelcome on the kingdom’s harbor.
Caelas blinked. This unspeakable cruelty that has been going around behind his back made him feel unworthy as protector of his kingdom. “You mean they will even go that far to young boys and girls just because they have different blood lines?”
“I’m very protective of my younger brother.” The brunet lad replied simply.
“I would have to have a conference with my ministers.” The king said in return and headed for the dresser to get ready.
“But Your Highness, you barely slept an hour!” Cinder immediately protested when the king looked over his shoulder.
“Young lad, this ‘old man’ is barely reaching fifty. And besides that ‘barely an hour’ sleep gave me the best rest I could ever hope for compared to my previous eight-hour nap with nightmares.” Caelas gave him a cheeky grin and simultaneously ignored him as he stripped and padded to the bath.
Barely fifty!? The king looked like a man in his early thirties at most! Well whom was he kidding? He was older than all of them combined for time flies in Pandaemonium like how the four seasons in this Earth consisted of a single day in Ra’asiel and Cind’rikh’s realm.
He was still in that same spot where the king left him when the latter poked his wet head from the bath. “Cinder, don’t tell me you’re sleeping standing up and with your eyes wide open! Why don’t you have a bath to relax you?” Caelas chuckled.
Cinder hastily snapped from his lovey-dovey daydream of Ra’asiel and hoped he didn’t look very daft or lovesick.
“I know that look too well and I’m afraid I’m going to have a rival soon for your affections.” He winked and dragged the brunet lad towards the bath.
The lad didn’t protest and let the king pamper him in the tub.

Deeply satisfied with his soak and dressed with another set of borrowed clothing, Cinder accompanied the king on his way to the throne room. They were barely out the door when a messenger informed the king of an alchemist seeking to have his audience. Caelas thought for a moment before giving his assent.
Cinder used that moment’s pause to check on Elyn.
The boy just apparently woke up from happy dreams and gave him a big smile when he approached. “Mama visited me in my dreams and told me she and uncle are happy in the Elysium Fields now.”
“We have the benevolent king to thank for that. He fought his way to the opposing ministers to give your uncle a funeral he deserves.” Cinder replied, relieved that Elyn was born to be an optimistic little lad.
“Did he succeed in taking you to bed?” The curly-haired boy asked with an impish grin.
There was that strange contrast between childish innocence and adult kinkiness. Sometimes he didn’t know if an older spirit was housed in this young and fragile-looking kid.
“Where do you get all that adult stuff? And the answer to your question is obviously no.” Cinder snorted grasping the pendant and waving it in front of Elyn’s aquamarine eyes.
“What does your beloved have more than a king? And you’ve willingly dragged yourself to our mess but we still haven’t seen even his shadow!” Elyn sat up demanding with arms crossed.
The older lad simply chuckled at his little attempt at love talk. “We’ll meet him soon enough.”
Elyn’s eyes lit up. “Really? I hope he’s as good-looking as you.”
The swift word exchange confirmed the fact that Cinder’s mysterious beloved was a man indeed. But Elyn doesn’t seem to mind if their little charade last night had anything to do about it. The kid was even bolder than he when they executed the deception.
“Don’t even try to steal him away little nymph.” Cinder chided and they both shared a laugh.
Cinder and Elyn followed the king to the direction of the courtyard where the alchemist was said to wait for an audience. The word ‘alchemist’ obviously heightened both of the lads’ alertness and suspicion. They hid behind a large marble pillar when they saw the king talking to a younger man. It wasn’t Porphoras as they both expected.
But even though they were a few good yards away from the pair they could hear the conversation quite well.
The younger man looked just a bit older than Cinder. He has chestnut-brown wavy hair reaching his shoulders, oval shaped not manly handsome but subtly attractive face, teal, unreadable eyes and thin pinkish lips. His fingertips were unmistakably tinted with the transmutation elements. And his thread of life radiated mercurial quality but lesser in intensity than Porphoras.
“Your Highness, allowing the corpse mangled during the funeral pyre won’t do well in the soul’s trip to the afterlife.” The young alchemist remarked suggestively.
“I am well aware of that but since he was placed in the rack and tortured resulting in the gory outcome, I don’t see how we can fix him.” The king spoke of the dead with respect and treated him like a person not a thing.
The young alchemist immediately got the message and rephrased his words and intentions a bit. “That is why I am here Your Highness. The minister for Ceremonies and Religious Rites requested for my assistance to restore the integrity of your unknown friend’s body.”
The king’s navy blue eyes narrowed at the word ‘religious’ and he remained quiet for a while.
His silence didn’t seem to bother his younger companion a bit. The chestnut-haired young man’s head unwittingly turned to their direction and both lads squeezed themselves chameleon-like against the pillar reflexively.
“I will think about your proposal. I should give my answer after I have my conference with the ministers. Would you care to wait for me in the guest tower? It’s in the west wing of the annex.” Caelas finally answered.
“No thank you, Your Highness. I can wait here and I’m sure your guests over there are willing to accompany me.” The young alchemist replied with an innocent smile.
Cinder and Elyn immediately stiffened.
The king however didn’t take offense at this revelation and beckoned the two lads to show themselves. The good pair hesitantly vacated their hiding place and walked towards the other mismatched pair.
The young alchemist’s eyes immediately widened and Cinder knew exactly what that meant. But like those few encounters he had, this one left his memory completely blank.
“This is Master Naedas, a young alchemist and once apprentice of the most-esteemed Grand Master Porphoras. Master Naedas, these are my guests, Cinder and Elyn. They are also the relatives of the deceased.” The king said the introductions quite oblivious of the covert tension between both parties.
Naedas didn’t seem to pay attention to the introduction and he remained transfixed on the raven-haired lad. Cinder pretended not to notice and offered his hand for a handshake. Elyn alternately looked between the two and hid a grin.
“Have we met before?” Puzzled, the young alchemist asked instead.
“No. It’s my first time here.” The brunet lad half-lied.
“Oh,” was the only syllable that left his semi-gaping mouth. He recovered and returned the mask of smiles and impenetrable eyes.
If the king noticed the same situation last night he didn’t comment, excused himself, and headed straight for the throne room leaving all three of them with the care of a servant.
The young alchemist spent their time discussing about the legalities and necessities of human transmutation. He politely asked both of their consent of the highly controversial issue of using alchemy against the human body. “We alchemists are very careful when fixing up the mangled bodies of the dead. If we do even one slip of the transmutation circle or the formula of the base elements, we’re going to produce a homunculus instead of a mended body ready for proper burial.”
“What’s a homunculus?” Elyn curiously inquired.
“It’s a bad imitation of a living human being or the process would equal raising a living dead.” Naedas technically answered.
“Would that be disastrous?” Cinder asked keeping a firm protective hold around Elyn.
“Yes. They would need to feed on living humans to sustain their imperfectly risen bodies. They have to kill to remain living dead and at the cost of others.” The chestnut-haired man informed them. His brows creased in concern, “I’m telling you the potential bad results now so you can thoroughly ponder about it. But in this kingdom’s history that incident has never occurred.”
The foster brothers looked at each other and Elyn mumbled, “If Grandfather was here…”
An uncomfortable silence filled the rest of their companionship. Fortunately the king arrived just in time to quell the building awkwardness between them. Naedas’ mask was immediately in place and he smiled greeting the king as he approached.
“I appreciate your patience Master Naedas. However the decision I have to make is not solely my own.” The king beckoned someone lagging behind the armed guards.
A fuzzy blur of bouncy blond curls darted towards that figure before anyone could react. “Grandfather!”
There, a man with ash-blond, straight, long hair, moss-green eyes and elf-like features: (white, wrinkle-free porcelain skin, straight pointed nose, feminine longish limbs and youthful lovely face) was tackled.
Cinder could hardly believe what he was seeing but apart from the physical appearance, the ancient bluish aura was blazing brightly and even mere mortals could trace if they tried hard enough. If he would push things too far, this man was the splitting image of Astral’s human form.
Miermi then turned to his petrified face, “Well, aren’t you going to give this man a hug, dear lad?”
Cinder felt mixed emotions at that warm invitation but happiness surfaced and the three of them shared a heartfelt hug.
When they pulled away two men lay in wait for an answer. “Yes, we consent to the alchemical fix.” The ash-blond said curtly.
The young alchemist excused himself and promised to return later for the final preparations for the funeral. Miermi watched Naedas’ retreating back with obvious suspicion.
King Caelas ushered them back to the private lounge and the armed guards he brought changed posts with the previous ones.
Miermi gave the first hand details starting from the night Jedah was attacked. And it became highly evident that the intentions of the attacker were consistent with the letter and the demon flute. The Daughters and the Order’s participation were only confirmed with Olympia’s performance and the spot where the king found the lads last night. They were fairly close to getting the right amount of evidence to put charges against the ones involved. However several puzzles were still not falling to their proper places.
If then for example, the Daughters and the Order sought to annihilate the so-called heretics and abominations then why would they employ demon tools and even write in the demon language?
“Perhaps they wanted someone else to take the blame. They could let the common folk presume that these attacks were done by the demons or half-bloods, further sullying their ill reputation to the narrow-minded.” Caelas said in theory.
“But Your Highness, which demon would willingly teach his aggressors about their ways?” Miermi however placed some valid point against the theory. “It’s very difficult to learn the jagged and rough tongue of the People of the Egg.”
“And even to play the demon flute is also tasking. Only a Nithaial can play that instrument without proper instruction.” The ebony-haired king agreed. But both older men knew that the time of the Nithaial was long past. None have ever replaced the ones involved in the last war. So who and why were the nagging questions in their heads.
Who was responsible for teaching these humans the ways of the Grazenfolk?
And lastly, why?
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