The Mast House, to Blaze, was a hideous building. 7 storeys high and made from an assortment of glass and bricks, it was ridiculously designed home. The glass reflected the remaining sunlight into Blaze's eyes and she shifted her position. The public library situated on the ground and first floor was closing; the remaining visitors leaving as the sky continued to darken. Blaze continued to wait for another hour, watching the upper 5 floors that were the home of the Mast family.
The owner of the Mast House, who was a tall man with an appearance that rivaled a model's, and his wife left the building through the private garage, driving off in an automobile. By their attire, it seemed that they would be attending a public event and would be gone for at least a few hours.
Still she waited.
Inside, Alisch Mast, sat comfortably, reading through a book. To him, this was a way someone who had lived through a dozen decades should spend his free time. Free time should not be spent mourning over the loss of the owner of the only other chair in his private library.
Besides, he had had over two decades to mourn.
Since resigning from his seat as a teacher, he had been left alone, spending the years roaming the fourth floor of the House or talking to non-existent ghosts. He enjoyed the solitude but at times, he wished his son would visit, would talk.
So when Blaze sat down in the chair opposite Alisch, she expected him to be surprised. But the old man, was not. Instead, he put down his book slowly and slid it away from him.
“I regret that I won’t be able to finish this book. I had been looking forward to the ending.” He turned to face Blaze, leaning back in his chair and then squinted in an attempt to recognise the face that was partially hidden behind the dark hood. Disappointed that he didn’t receive an answer or identified the woman in front of him, he asked a question. “How did you manage to get in? My son fitted in the best of Cameo technology.” Alisch waited again for an answer but was sceptical about whether he would receive one.
“For someone who’s living their last moments, you’re rather questioning.”
Alisch smiled, a smile that mirrored a young child’s. “My wife was rather annoyed at the amount of questions I ask.” He gave chuckled, more to himself, and then for a moment, he became lost in the memory of his love. He shook his head and spoke again. “Before I see her again, am I granted a wish?”
Blaze gave the smallest of nods to the old man. “I assume it’s a story.”
Alisch smiled again. “It is. As we know, this beautiful world was ruled by a monarchy. Now, the last of the Royal Family were two sisters. Other than the blood than ran through their veins they had little in common. Both were beautiful and both were born to be rulers. Both would have a line of suitors, wanting their hand. Both had enemies. Both had admirers. The younger of the sisters spent her time with the people, taking their problems as her own. She could love and she would’ve been a just ruler. But she had no fire. She could not defend her land if time came for it. She could not save her people against her enemies. The older sister, was less of a princess. She was a warrior. However strong she may have been, and as much as a saviour she was, she had no heart. To the citizens, she could not love. And so, when the King entrusted the throne to the younger of the sisters, she could not live. To her, the throne was her right for she was the elder of the two.
“It surprised the citizens as well. For, it had always been the oldest child who became the ruler. But the words of the King were what convinced the people. ‘A ruler who cannot love is no ruler, but instead a tyrant.’ And so, the daughter of the Royal Family became an enemy of her own kin. She brought down a wrath that can never be matched. She showed a war and she killed millions. All for a throne that never became hers.” Alisch paused, less for dramatic effect and more so he could have time to phrase his question carefully. “No one knows whether the Princess survived the war, but of course, centuries have passed since then, and not even a Guardian can survive that long. So, my question is – in the end, do you think the Princess found love?”
During Alisch’s story, Blaze had unsheathed a dagger and while she spoke, her gaze remained on the dagger. “Do I answer that the same way you phrased your little day? With cryptic messages told… poetically?”
Alisch laughed, but his eyes were on the dagger in Blaze’s hands. “A dagger won’t kill a Guardian. We’re immortal. Or are you not here to kill me after all?”
Blaze stood up, her right hand keeping hold of her weapon and the left pulling down her hood so her face could be revealed to the Duke. “I’ve had many say that. I do prefer to prove them wrong.”
Alisch’s eyes widened in recognition. “You. The rumours are tru-”
“In answer to your question, Duke Alisch Mast,” Blaze interrupted. “I like to think that the Princess found love. She found it in the art of weaponry and the death that follow.” With those words, she brought down a swift death to Duke Alisch Mast. “My question to you, Duke, is, how did you know that today was the day you’ll see your beloved Rima again?” While she spoke in mock sincerity, her gaze caught on the title of the book that the Duke had been reading. “It seems I have another question for you. Where did you acquire such an interesting collection of books?”
Her fingers brushed over the title as she read it aloud. “Blaze. The Princess Who Could Not Love.”