She was a changed woman. She knew she was in love for the first time. Certainly, she had loved her late husband, but she was so young when they got married, and he was much older than her; their marriage was based on mutual respect and security.
Now, however, her feelings were real and mature. She had no doubts that they were reciprocated. No man could read her like Tolzan. He had seemed to know what she wanted, even before she did.
If anything; she would have changed the date of her journey, and left for Pyonia together with Tolzan after the House of Houses meeting. It had taken him quite a while to convince her, that she would have to wait for the Academy Spring Break, so Mordan could accompany her.
That was the one thing she didn’t understand; his insistence on her being engaged to Mordan. She had done nothing else while being away from Tolzan but inspecting all the points of view of the matter. She always came to the same conclusion; Tolzan would be the perfect choice. She was convinced that Pyonians would feel the same. The fact that he had a Lazulian family name surely couldn’t be a problem; after all, based on his Throatmark, he was a Pyonian. He had been the Governor of the country for ten years. People loved and respected him. It was widely known how charitable he had been – without him ever even hinting at this. How could Mordan ever compete with all this?
‘He wants what’s best for me, for us. He loves me. He knows what he’s doing. We’ll be together, I just have to trust him,’ she kept telling herself over and over again.
Mordan was quite surprised that the visit to Pyonia was still on.
When he found out that Gloria had accepted his proposal of marriage, he thought that life couldn’t get better.
He was right; it got worse.
Apart from the one kiss during the Wintersky Festival, all he got from her was indifference. He had been summoned from time to time to escort his fiancée to various social events, but every time she had bade him farewell as if they were mere acquaintances.
Not once had they spent time alone. Over and over he kept telling himself that what he had felt for her was not love; just some pitiful obsession, but it didn’t help. Besides, every time he had to meet Noerelle – which was regrettably quite frequently, – she made him promise that he wouldn’t do anything that could jeopardise his engagement.
Now, here they were with Gloria’s entire household, which meant that not once during the entire boat-ride from the Capital to Stingray Harbour, he could catch her alone.
He had enough time to watch her. She was chatting and laughing with Dinah and Linka; she was mocking them for being infatuated with Mayor Bowman, while the three of them sipped on quite a few glasses of sparkle. Even though Mordan knew how Gloria felt about Pyonia, it seemed as if she was embarking on the holidays of her life-time.
She had a glow about her, and even though Mordan didn’t consider himself an expert in psychology, he was quite certain that she was happy. In fact, she was the happiest he had ever seen her. What or who made her feel this way, Mordan didn’t know, but he very much doubted that it was him.
She had asked him to accompany her, and was perfectly civil to him, but that was all.
“Will we really be staying in the Mayor’s manor?” Linka asked with sparkling eyes.
“That’s the plan,” Gloria smiled.
“Oh by the Gods; seven days and six nights in his house. Many things could happen,” Dinah sighed.
“Why, are you planning on slipping into his bedroom one night?” Linka glared at her. Dinah grimaced.
“Girls, girls, you will behave like ladies when we’re there,” Gloria wagged her finger at them.
“It’s so lucky that he isn’t married,” Linka giggled after a swig.
“Maybe he prefers his own gender,” Mordan remarked.
The two girls gasped.
“Certainly not!” Gloria exclaimed.
“Why the outrage? There’s nothing wrong with that,” Mordan replied.
“Of course not, but you’re crushing the girls’ hopes,” Gloria scolded him.
“You’re very cruel to us, Prince Mordan,” Dinah sniffed.
“Just making conversation. What do I know anyway? I’ve never met the man,” Mordan grinned.
“I just wish that we didn’t have to disembark at that ghastly Summer Residence. I’m sure that it’s haunted by the ghosts of our brave Sunflare Riders. I hope they have at least removed the gallows,” Gloria sighed to change the topic.
“Nevertheless, it’s your Summer Residence now. You will have to spend time there sooner or later,” Mordan said, which earned him an icy stare from Gloria.
To their surprise, they were greeted by Master Brightstar and Gloria’s son, Olivier when they arrived. They had gone ahead a few days ago.
Gloria gasped, as she took in the sight that greeted them. The infamous Summer Residence was nothing like she had imagined it. It was a brightly lit, elegant palace that would have made any Heliodorian Royal proud.
“A little surprise from Mayor Bowman,” Master Brightstar announced.
“It’s the best palace I’ve ever been to, mother. It even has its own zoo and a huge fishing pond,” Olivier enthused.
“The Mayor had a statue erected to commemorate our fallen Riders. He had a garden built around it,” the Master of House pointed.
“How magnanimous. Let’s hope the tax-payers feel the same way,” Mordan remarked. He’d just had enough of hearing about that marvel of a man by now.
“No, no, Prince Mordan. He had the whole place restored from his own funds. He presented me with a dossier containing all the bills.”
“To boast? “
“No, Your Majesty; to make sure that none of us felt badly about spending public funds on private expenses. From what I’ve learnt, the Mayor would never squander tax-payers’ money to appear generous,” Brightstar explained with a hint of annoyance.
“I can’t accept this!” Gloria gasped, but at the same time she feared she would burst with happiness.
“What a wonderful man,” Dinah pressed her hands against her chest.
“He’s brilliant. He taught me so much about Pyonia. He took us on trips and showed us everything there is to see in Stingray Harbour. And this morning he picked me up at the crack of dawn, and we went fishing,” Olivier said.
‘What a bloody saint,’ Mordan thought.
Gloria couldn’t believe her ears; Tolzan took the time to make friends with her son. What other proof did she need? His intentions were clear.
Servants appeared, and picked up their luggage to bring them into the palace.
“We’re not staying at the Mayor’s?” Gloria asked.
“There is no need, my Lady. You will find your Summer Residence more than satisfactory. Besides, we might offend him, if we refused to stay here. Then again, it’s your decision, naturally,” Brightstar looked at her questioningly.
“No, no, of course. Why would we go anywhere else? So the Mayor is not staying with us?” she asked, the disappointment in her voice was so apparent that Mordan couldn’t help but picking up on it.
“No, my Lady. He would never intrude on your privacy after such a strenuous journey. He will join us for breakfast tomorrow morning.”
That night, Gloria couldn’t sleep a wink. She was torn between happiness and misery. The Residence was even more splendid from the inside, than from the outside. It was proof that Tolzan knew exactly what she wanted, and how she wanted it. Nevertheless, he wasn’t there, which caused her almost physical pain. She thought the night would never end.
The following three days were spent with meeting Pyonian dignitaries, and being shown around the city and the nearby countryside to meet the adoring masses. There was no better term for them.
Even though Gloria had been suffering more and more from the realisation that she would not be able to have time alone with Tolzan, she was amazed by the reaction of the people to her. And to Mordan. There were cheers all around wherever they went.
“Long live ou
r Empress Gloria!”
“Gods bless our future King Mordan!”
People would queue up to see them from up close, bringing them flowers and presents. She could never have imagined a reception like this.
Mordan was better prepared, for he had experienced it before, during his last visit to Pyonia, but now it was even more intense. He understood that Pyonians wanted to see one of their own countrymen on the throne, but he still couldn’t explain the mass hysteria. He suspected some kind of manipulation. Noerelle’s image kept emerging in his mind.
He decided to have a private conversation with the Mayor before they left. He had tried to dislike Bowman; one had to be blind not to see what an effect he had on Gloria. Every time she looked at Tolzan, Mordan felt a jab to his chest. Nevertheless, he didn’t seem to treat her like anything rather than what she was; the Empress of the country. Whether the Mayor didn’t notice Gloria’s longing looks or whether he didn’t care, Mordan didn’t know. He never got the feeling from him that he was competition. Besides, he had treated him with utter respect; he was helpful and patient, always ready to give welcome advice.
Mordan had to admit to himself that he found a morbid pleasure in watching Tolzan being ever so slightly flirtatious with both Linka and Dinah, always making sure to pay the equal amount of attention and compliments to both of them. What he didn’t find amusing, was Gloria’s apparently mounting annoyance whenever it happened.
On the evening of the fourth day of their visit, Tolzan approached Mordan.
“Prince Mordan, I’m aware that the disappearance of Mistress Ruby Grimdor still hasn’t been resolved. I know that you have recently found out that she isn’t your mother, but I understand the bond that you have with her.
I had an investigation ordered in Moorfield months ago. I have compiled a file for you that contains reports and interviews. Please let me assure you that I’m inconsolable about the lack of results. I have arranged a meeting with the local Councillor. If you don’t want to go, I can have it cancelled, it’s not a problem at all.
If you want me to accompany you, I’d be more than happy to do so. Should you decide to go, I have arranged a carriage for tomorrow morning that will bring us back the next day, and I had two rooms booked for us in the best inn of Moorfield. If you prefer to go by yourself, I’ll have my room cancelled.”
Mordan was taken aback by this degree of consideration.
“Thank you, Mayor. I… yes, I think I’d like to go. I need to have at least a last stab at this. Your offer is very much appreciated, but I will go by myself. You have done so much for us; I couldn’t ask you to waste two days on a lost cause. Nevertheless, I’d like to discuss our visit with you once I’m back.”
“Certainly, Prince Mordan, I was about to suggest the same.”
By now Mordan was sure that if he preferred his own gender, Tolzan would be his first choice.
On the morning of the fifth day Gloria woke to birdsong. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but for some reason it sounded strange. Then she realised that the reason was the lack of the usual noises. She rang a bell. A minute later, there was a knock on the door.
“Enter,” she shouted, and then she gasped.
Tolzan stood in the door with a tray in his hands.
“Breakfast is served, Empress,” he announced.
The next day and night were utter bliss. Unbeknownst to Gloria, Tolzan had arranged a trip for her whole household to his beachside mansion, and Mordan had left for Moorfield. All the servants were given a day off. Nobody else would be around until the next evening. This had become the holiday of her life-time after all.
On the last evening of their visit, Mordan and Tolzan sat in a small salon. The trip to Moorfield was just as fruitless as Mordan had expected, nevertheless, he had decided not to mourn his mother unless he got proof that she was indeed gone for good. He tried to concentrate on the matter at hand.
“I don’t understand it… this euphoria… Why are the people reacting this way?” he asked the Mayor.
“Well, there are two major reasons for it. The less important being, that before your visit, the Pyonian people were granted a substantial tax-cut by their new Empress.”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware of her authorising that.”
“She didn’t; I did.”
“Without her knowledge?”
“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. It’s a common practice; whenever people need a bit of a morale-boost, you cut some taxes. Empress Gloria had been a member of the Heliodorian Royal Court for years. They had received our financial reports every month. Nobody had any objections. Besides, all countries do it,” Tolzan said.
“Where does the money come from that compensates for the loss of tax-income?” Mordan asked.
“We put up the taxes of the businesses; the inns, craftsmen, farmers, everybody who provides goods or services,” Tolzan replied nonchalantly.
“So those people have to pay for the morale-boost?”
“Not really. They raise their prices, thus passing it onto the people who have more money in their pockets and blame the government for the increase. It all balances out in the end. After a while, we gradually raise the taxes of the people – half a percent here, two percent there, – while we dramatically cut the taxes of the businesses. People rejoice, because the prices are going down. Within a few months we are back to from where we started from.”
“That’s… It’s just so cynical.”
“It’s politics, Prince Mordan.”
“So you just assume that people are idiots; that they won’t notice,” Mordan said with disgust. Tolzan sighed.
“People don’t care about politics, and even less about the economy. You’re from the Capital, but the majority live in small towns and villages. They rise at dawn, and go to bed in the early hours of the evening. All they care about is having a job to go to, some local gossip and the Sharknball results. I dare you to go to a village inn, and ask the patrons about the fiscal policies of the administration. Most likely they would beat you up, because they assumed that you were insulting them.”
Mordan shook his head in disbelief.
“Fine. What’s the other reason for our success?” he asked after he had tried to digest what he had heard.
“You’re a symbol; the pauper who turned into a Prince. I know, I know, you’ve never been really poor and you got the best education possible, but most will conveniently ignore the facts. For most Pyonians politics have become religion. Give them a Prince in shining armour, one they believe in; a saviour who can do no wrong. One they would die or kill for, even if he walks all over them.”
“So I got the support of the brainless masses,” Mordan summarised.
“Your words, not mine. Don’t underestimate them; they have the numbers. Of course you need some intellectual backing as well. Those you need to pay; offer them power, money and positions. They won’t buy the drivel reserved for the masses, but in order to justify doing what they know is wrong in exchange for privileges, they will learn to lie to themselves until they start believing it; thus increasing the number of your ardent believers. It works like a charm, especially if you have some leverage.
Let’s say in the form of the double-bladed blessing called bribe; on the one hand, you buy whoever you need, on the other hand you will always have something in your hand you can use against them if necessary.”
Mordan was shocked.
“Why would I want them doing something that’s wrong? I never said that I wanted any of this.”
“Not yet, Prince Mordan, but that might change in due time. Many who have tasted power can’t help but going down that road.”
“I don’t quite understand; we live in peaceful times on a peaceful continent. You talk as if we were on the brink of a revolution.”
“Pyonians have been making their own revolution for the past fifty years. I can't promise you to become the King of a harmonious country.”
“I might not becom
e King at all. My fiancée seems to have second thoughts about our marriage,” Mordan blurted out before he could stop himself.
“She will marry you. That I can promise you,” the Mayor replied with so much conviction, that Mordan’s doubts dispersed.
Month of the Bull, Late Spring
The Academy, Realm’s Heart Island
It was the first Loverday of the month. It was a special day and a very hot one for the Month of the Bull. Nessa decided to enjoy the sunshine on the Academy grounds for a while, before tracking down Gregorius in the Hidden City. She had decided months ago to get out of his way on the part of the Academy above ground, for she couldn’t stand the various groups of girls that seemed to eternally surround him.
‘Damn,’ she thought suddenly, as she spotted him casually leaning against a column and surely enough, there they were; Fabienne and Adoryan Peacock – the twin son and daughter of Count and Countess Peacock – as well as two noble Cadentian girls whose names Nessa didn’t bother to remember.
Gregorius must have come from the pools, as he was wearing his Sharker outfit and his hair was wet. He threw his head back laughing, and his little group broke out in fits of giggles.
‘How the hell doesn’t she burst out of her corset? I bet she needs two servants to lace her in,’ Nessa fumed, shooting a vicious look towards Fabienne.
She tried to hurry in the opposite direction, but it was too late.
“Nessa, wait!” Gregorius shouted after her. She rolled her eyes, took a deep breath and turned around. He bowed to the group and strolled towards her. To Nessa’s delight, she noticed the dirty look that Fabienne gave her.
“I didn’t want to deprive your courtiers of your company,” she muttered at him.
“Some pining will do them good,” he grinned. He sat down on the lawn and pulled her next to him.
“What do you channel on them to queue up for your attention?”
“There’s no need for that; I’m filling a niche – in more ways than one,” he winked. Nessa tutted.
“It’s simple. The Academy is brimming with men. Mostly nobles. And I’m sure I don’t need to explain to Your Majesty that almost all male aristocrats keep away from the unwed Ladies of their own class to avoid undesired Royal matches. There are enough commoners’ daughters and very willing Academy servant girls, who the offspring of our high society can have fun with. Most of those girls are even willing to risk a pregnancy if it means they can land themselves a Lord, a Count, a Duke or even a Prince.”
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