Marcy Portia Alexander Tarrish

  2510.05.08

  Sola 0

  Portiosa

  Eastern Wing of the Alexander Palace

  The woman who had entered the room was not the same one who had left. This was very clear to the attendants who escorted Lady Marcy back to the main sitting room. The confidence that once radiated from her aura seemed to slightly falter. While still regal, she did not have the dominance and assertion she carried before. The rushed journey before was much more measured as she chewed upon her thoughts. Upon her return to the main living room, Marcy regained her seat on the familial chair.

  “My brother, I have made contact with your child,” Marcy said. Her face revealed nothing.

  “Made contact?” James asked. He was surprised by his sister's choice of words. “And what did you find? He actually made the decision?”

  “It was quite shocking, I do say.” Marcy continued. She smirked. “I actually spoke directly with the young man. He is not the spoiled vegetable I had imagined. I do admit, he's actually quite intelligent, that boy you have there.”

  “How can this be?” James asked. “He was stupefied.”

  While held out hope, for eighteen long years, that his son was still alive, never once did he assume nor even believe that he was a normal thinking child. They had, more out of love and tradition than anything, hired various tutors for the boy. A choice made in the hopes of maintaining mental support for himself and his wife.

  He held a fatherly love that carried him throughout these long years. To have all of his work been for something, rather than the regret he had possibly come to expect; to have everything he'd done not be for waste? He had no words.

  “And as for the decision, my brother,” Marcy said after she let the moment of silence pass. “He has agreed with my previous ideas. That you all must journey to the Isle of Gods, the city of miracles, the Tower of Heaven, which we see in the sky. You must seek assistance there if this place does exist.

  I do fear it is a dangerous suggestion, and it moves me to even have to suggest it. It is your only hope. And the young James who sits there in his bed, a doll of a boy, I will add, he agrees with me in this decision. This was his last request, or rather, first request, I might say.”

  Marcy chuckled with her last words. More for her own relief than any other reason. She let the room recover from the shock once more. During this time, she felt the air shift around her. The recognition from the palace that, once more, she held an authority there. Her aura resonated in earnest with the grounds and estate as she received the boons of the reading.

  “One last thing, my brother. Before I go to settle the affairs of the western branch of the palace. Your son had one more request of me.” Marcy said as she stood at the edge of the room. She smirked as she continued. “He wished to pass on his gratitude, most of all, his love for all that you have done for him these past 18 years. He loves you.”

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  With an elegance that returned to her, she exited the room. A tall, lanky man who was standing in the corner, Seval, the headmaster of the palace, followed her out. From now on, he was to report to her.

  James the XIV, once the head of the Alexander family, fell to a knee as he braced himself on a nearby chair. Dumbfounded, he placed his hand on his wife's leg. Their son was indeed alive. This was a day they dreamed of for eighteen long years. The boy they had visited nightly, the one they used to feel foolish for reading to each night, was in there. This whole time, he was there listening to them. Not a relic of their imagination, not something that held them back, not living a doll, but a person.

  “Andrea!” James said in an authoritative tone. “Ready the horses and ready their riders! I need fifty, no, make that one hundred soldiers, to go with us out into the beyond. We are going to the City of Miracles, we are going to the Tower of God's, and we will fix my boy if it is the last thing this family will do.”

  As if a storm was gathering on the horizon, every single servant took off. Quickly, news spread throughout the grounds. A vibrant life brewed within this palace. It was no longer a solemn place.

  Together, the couple stood up, and without a word, they headed in the same direction. James Portia Alexander XIV and his wife, Marjorie Louisa Alexander, walked towards the room of their son. As if no time passed, they stood outside its doors. As they entered, a deep roaring flame rooted itself within the spirit of the room. The room, which had served more as a memorial, was now vibrant. They walked across the room where he lay.

  “My son,” James said. They placed their hands on his. “Now that we know you are in there, and although we are unable to hear you, we have finally heard your voice of will. We will follow your plan. As we speak, the soldiers are gathering. The servants are organizing. And we are amassing the caravan that will take us across this entire world. Even if it's the last thing that I do, I will bring you into this world to truly leave your mark.

  "To give you a place where you can interact with us and everything around us. Whether it costs the lives of our servants, myself, or your mother, we shall pay it. It is a sacrifice I must make as a father. A sacrifice I choose to make for you because I love you. There is a lot that rides on this mission, this quest across our world. The journey will be arduous, but it will not be over until I hear those words from your own lips, as it means you are truly in this world."

  The young man did not make a move. The only sign of his life was the steady rise and fall of his chest. The only sound was the quiet breaths that echoed throughout the room. The servants stood around the room; half of the staff had gathered. Some sat in stooper, some drenched with sweat, but none dare spoke in the silence that followed these words.

  They all knew what this meant. They all knew exactly where they had to go. But at the same time, none knew exactly what was in store for them. It was to be a very difficult future. The Tower of Heaven, the Isle of Gods, the City of Miracles, things that exist only in legend, in the rumors spoken of by kings and queens of the world. It was a place made famous by the desperate.

  They did not know where their path would lead, not what lay in their future, but they did understand their duty. One to their kingdom and to their master. To the doll of a boy they have cared for long years. There was a brewing hope, but also a matching doubt.

  Soon, they would leave families; they would leave entire homes behind. All for the sake of one young man who had never spoken a word in this reality. He had never once shown gratitude towards them, as far as they knew, he was a husk of a man. That evening, dozens of scouts set out either airborne, on horseback, or by ship. They would scour the world, to major port cities, to the other continent, to the vast lands that lay between the city of Portiosa and the edges of the world.

  The next day, a bounty was posted in every town of the kingdom; any information on the whereabouts of the Isle of Gods would be awarded 500 gold coins. Enough to make any layman a noble.