Haunted Castle/Prologue

This is the prologue to Haunted Castle. It briefly introduces both Charlemagne and The Duke to the story. It was released on October 18th, 2014.

Prologue
Crimson skies may fill the air this blooming night, a color of death it might be, but a color of beauty it also is. Violet also presents itself in the atmosphere, with the thunder claiming nearby mountains or trees, the ones it chooses. An enchanting of land only for those beings who have magic flow through their veins, oh so innocent from the life that exists where other beings lie. The twinkle in her eyes as she views this magnificent, beautiful display of atmosphere, provides her with glee, even if a smile is absent from her face.

This young teenage girl, not by any means burly, keeps her gaze out the window and her imagination lingering. She knows of what's beyond those mountains, as she is part of such magic. All her life, it's been magic. A place unadulterated and pure, such a place cannot be said to exist in our battered reality. Though for Charlemagne, the radiant young lass of vibrant fibers, it's all reality is.

At least, it used to be until this very moment. She stands on a pebble floor, next to a bed of comfort and a desk. Tall is this castle tower, tall and lonesome. This ancient relic may be pretty, but that is all it is to Charlemagne, just a structure to gaze at for a moment. Her reality, as stated before, was another.

However, her reality now is this. Unwillingly she finds herself in this medieval gem that should've long collapsed, but endured through centuries of abuse. Charlemagne does not want to be here, but alas, here she is. All she can is hope that it is not for good. Her attention is shifted from the window to the desk, where a letter lies. Charlemagne returns to it, wraps up the writing process with ink from a feather. Eloquent, beautiful handwriting, endows the delicate letter. Charlemagne eyes the letter proudly, content with the finished product.

"''Dear Mother and Father,

''I must apologize for my delay in sending you this letter. I'd like to begin that my 'problems', the visions and such, have stopped for now. However, lately I have found myself in disdain, as I am forced to lay here until my uncle withers away and I get this 'magnificent keep' of his. Kind of a misnomer, but that is just my sarcasm writing this letter for me. I am frustrated to the bone of laying here. This bloke comes strutting into my home claiming to be my uncle and the next thing I know I am taken to this castle. The worse part? I can't leave the bloody place because I am next in line for the throne. Who wants to be the ruler of such a depressing structure anyway? Who knows. Maybe by the time you receive this letter I will be free once more, and back to the place I belong. Though still I wonder, who exactly is this character? Is he really my bloody uncle? This situation is making me go bonkers, but all I can do for myself is figure it out. A bloody marvelous task that will be, would you not agree?

Love, your precious daughter ~Charlemagne "

Charlemagne rolls the letter into a neat little cylinder and with a flick of her magic little finger, it flies off the window, past those beautiful mountains we saw earlier, eventually lost among the clouds. Charlemagne smiles having just given freedom to the feeble little letter. May she find freedom of her own sooner than not. Hope is all she can do.

"Still writing those...letters to your parents, Charlemagne?" a grizzly, older voice calls to Charlemagne. The young woman turns to face the source, whom she knows as her uncle, but in reality, he is "The Duke" of the castle.

"Blimey, it's you again. Came to speak to your 'favorite niece' again?" Charlemagne asks. The Duke, whose face is shrouded in a brown hood, much like the rest of his feeble old body, maintains his expression a straight line

"Your tone tells me you still are not accustomed to life 'round these parts, hmm Charlemagne?" he comments.

"Gee ace, you think? I didn't ask to be taken here, I bloody hate it here." Charlemagne replies, but The Duke ignores this reply in its entirety. Instead, he shifts his vision to Charlemagne's desk, where the ink and feather Charlemagne used to write her letter still remain.

"You are still writing those 'letters' to your parents, are you? It is to be expected from such an impish, ignorant child, anywho." Charlemagne scoffs at The Duke's comment.

"I didn't ask for your bloody opinion, as I never do, uncle." The Duke is amused by this response.

"Your 'parents', Charlemagne...you've never even met them, seen them in the flesh or even gotten so much as a sliver of comment from them your whole life, yet you remain convinced that they receive these letters…"

"You see it as something rather daft, right? Yet I still preach to you that I care not about it, your wank opinion. So I can't be fagged with it."

"So naive and pure you are, Charlemagne. Maybe raising yourself wasn't the best choice we could've made. A damn shame."

They have had this conversation time after time, over and over again, and each time it ended the same. Charlemagne fought to express why she cared not for The Duke's opinion, but as dickish as The Duke is, he spoke anyway.

"Get some rest, Charlemagne. Tomorrow will be a fresh day, and I shall require your assistance." The Duke says, before turning away from Charlemagne and pacing towards the exit of her room.

Assistance? Since when has The Duke ever needed her help for anything. All Charlemagne has done since arriving in the keep is wonder the eerie halls of the immense castle, practically wasting her valuable life.

"Really? And why, may I ask, do you cherish my assistance tomorrow?" Charlemagne asks, intrigued by it all.

The Duke simply smiles, turning back to face Charlemagne.

"We will be having guests." he finishes, before disappearing down the hall.

Guests?". That's what The Duke needs her help for?

A surge of excitement began to flow inside of Charlemagne at that moment. With a smile on her face, Charlemagne will be receiving company, and the castle more life.

Without further ado, Charlemagne allows herself to fall back on her bed, arms and legs free of strain, allowing her to relax. Plastering a soft smile on her face, she relaxes, and closes her eyes.