“I understand you want to please your people, Your Grace, but you have to consider the college as well.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t forget that Whitehaven University contributes handsomely to many official funds.”
Roann raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat, Dean?”
“No, of course not. Consider it more of a polite reminder that the relationship between the university and your family is one of prosperity and friendship. I would hate to see it sullied over something as trivial as student housing.”
The prince kept his emotions in check, realizing quickly that if he leapt over the desk and struck the man, it would look bad for his image. Inside, he was seething; absolutely shocked the dean would even so much as hint at a break in their ties. Yes, the university donated to several charities run by the Vrelin Empire, but it hardly gave them the right to make threats.
“Dean Ebbersley,” The prince’s voice was steady, his tone stern. “If you meet with the city planners—a conference which I am happy to arrange—perhaps they can assist you in utilizing your existing property better.”
“With all due respect, Sire…”
“This is my only offer. I suggest you take it before I change my mind and kick you out of this office.”
Ebbersley flinched at his tone and nodded curtly before packing his belongings back into his satchel. When he finally replied, his voice was submissive. “I would be honored if Your Grace would be so kind as to schedule a meeting with the city planners…” He lowered his eyes to his hands, nervously wringing them in his lap, before making eye contact once more with the prince. “…and I am terribly sorry if I have offended you in any way with my uncalled-for remarks. I never meant to threaten or posture in the manner that I did. It is extremely unbecoming of a man in my position. Please forgive me.”
Roann stood and extended his hand to the trembling dean. Ebbersley accepted the prince’s gesture with an embarrassed smile.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Josef?” The prince retracted his hand, fighting the urge to wipe the dean’s perspiration on his pants.
“No, Your Highness. You have been far too gracious with your time as it is.”
Roann sat, picked up his quill, and delved back into his paperwork. He didn’t look up at his guest again. “Then I trust you can see yourself out?”
“Of course, Grace. Thank you.” The stout man scurried away and was out the door in record time.
Only when the dean was out of sight did Roann grimace and look down at his palm, still glistening with Ebbersley’s sweat. Gagging slightly, he opened a drawer and took out a handkerchief, feverishly trying to remove the offending substance. After a few moments, his hand was sufficiently dry and he tossed the cloth into the trash can. He would never be using that one again, that was for sure. Looking back to the mountain of paperwork sitting on his desk, he sighed and stood, stretching his aching back muscles.
With a long audible breath, he turned to gaze out at the city sprawling below him. Quickly shedding the irritation the dean had bestowed upon him, he felt his shoulders relax. He loved the way Keld looked and moved. From his perch near the top of the Imperial Palace, he could see the entire metropolis. The buildings sparkled in the sunlight thanks to small inclusions of minerals within the stone. Colorful banners and flags fluttered on the breeze, the scent of pastries from the palace bakery wafted up from below. Streets radiated out from a central park, neighborhoods taking on their own identities and hallmarks. Artisans and entrepreneurs comingled with educators and families, bookstores and bakeries resided alongside blacksmiths and jewelers. The harbor glistened in the distance, merchant ships moored to the commercial docks, pleasure yachts setting sail for an afternoon adventure. Across the expanse sat Whitehaven University, its grand spire rising almost as high as the tower in which he now stood. The massive walls surrounding the grounds didn’t allow anyone on street level to peer in, but from his vantage point high above, Roann had an incredible view. The university’s gardens were ablaze with autumn color. He understood why Ebbersley and the other deans were reluctant to dip into their precious land to construct more dorms—the gardens were beautiful. But sacrifices had to be made, and Roann wasn’t about to force that sacrifice onto his subjects for the benefit of the college.
People surged through the streets beneath him, darting in and out of elegant shops, chasing children, and tossing coins into one of the many fountains that dotted the fine city. Pride swelled in his chest. Roann Vrelin loved Keld, and he felt honored to be its reigning sovereign.
Roann had been born as a late-in-life child to his parents, the emperor Artol and empress Eilith. Having suffered through several stillbirths and miscarriages before he entered the world, they had resigned to the fact they might never produce a viable heir. Deciding to live their lives the happiest they could without a child, they devoted themselves fully to charities, children’s activities, and ruling their empire. If they couldn’t have offspring of their own, they would find joy in the children of their subjects.
So when, just before Empress Eilith’s forty-third birthday, she found herself once again with child, she didn’t hold out much hope it would result in motherhood.
Prince Roann was born on a stormy summer night, lightning striking one of the towers of the palace just moments after he arrived. As the fire brigade swooped into action to contain the flames, the empress held her first live-born child in her arms. That night the palace may have lost a turret to fire—but it gained an emperor.
Fiercely protective of him as a child, the emperor and empress did absolutely everything they could think of to shield their precious son from the evils of the world, no matter the cost. But, as Roann grew, he demanded more freedoms and convinced his parents to let him spread his wings more. After all, he would one day rule the empire.
Under the guidance and watchful eye of several exemplary tutors, he had been sculpted into an intelligent and respected man. The young prince stood by his father’s side as he ruled, watching and listening so that one day he could emulate the emperor’s ways. He knew the importance of the position, the honor and duty that came with the name Vrelin.
Over the years, the prince had grown into a handsome young man with intelligence that surpassed even some of the most seasoned court scholars. No one doubted he would be a great ruler, and would be fair to his people. And when, at the young age of twenty-two, he had taken over the emperor’s duties after Artol suffered a massive stroke, the people of Keld—of the entire empire—never had any reservations.
Ten years in, and Roann had increased prosperity, authored peace treaties between squabbling villages, and ensured that every citizen had access to education and health care. If his father had been a beloved ruler—Roann was close to being revered as a god. Everyone loved him—and he reciprocated that affection tenfold. It had been centuries since war had threatened the empire, and there was no doubt that as long as Prince Roann ruled, all would be protected. The monarchy of Zaiterra, on an adjacent continent, respected the prince even more so than they had his father, with peace continuing between the two nations.
Sighing with contentment, he released the silken tie holding his blonde hair back and allowed it to cascade freely over his shoulders. Although he enjoyed the formal dress and posture of royalty, he cherished the times when he could, quite literally, let his hair down. He straightened the short black waistcoat he wore over a light purple cotton shirt. His black leather pants fit snugly, tucked into his black riding boots. It was modest dress for a quasi- emperor, yes, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, his father was still legally the ruler—he was just keeping the fires burning for him on the home front. Though hopes of his father’s health improving were nonexistent, he was still the emperor. Never once had Roann donned the crown or grand robes his father wore so regally—and he didn’t plan to until the day his father left the planet for whatever awaited him on the other side.
The prince’s stomach growled a
udibly, reminding him he had forgotten to eat breakfast. He turned from the window and headed toward a small side door in his office, one he knew would take him straight to the private quarters of his family—and a wonderful lunch with his mother. His emerald eyes sparkled in the sunlight one last time as he ducked into the dimly-lit, hidden hallway. The corridor ended at his mother’s sitting room, and he could smell the aroma of roasted ham before he even put his hand on the doorknob. Entering the comfortably furnished room, he was immediately greeted by the Empress’ attendant, who motioned him to the table, laid out with a grand luncheon.
“You’re late, darling.” A soft feminine voice filtered up and over a beautiful high-backed chair.
Roann rounded the table and sat next to his mother with an embarrassed smile. “Dean Ebbersley dropped by unexpectedly and I lost track of time. I’m sorry.”
“Still wanting to expand the university?”
“As always.” The prince leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek. “I hope you didn’t wait too long.”
Empress Eilith shook her head, her gray curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Not at all. I’ve started already, see?” She pointed to her porcelain plate, piled high with meat, cheese, and fruit.
Roann helped himself to the fabulous spread, taking a generous helping of smoked ham. As he buttered a slice of artisanal bread, he focused his attention on the staircase that led to his parents’ private apartments. “How’s father today?”
The Empress cast her eyes down to her plate. “He…couldn’t make eye contact with me this morning. I could tell he wanted to, but…” She sighed deeply.
The prince hated hearing his mother so upset. His father’s stroke had pulled the rug out from under the family—and the whole country. Roann had been thrust into the position to not only take over the empire, but to care for his mother as she, in turn, cared for his father. He had never been given proper time to grieve the loss of the father he once knew, and was instead forced to take over the emperor’s position while he watched Artol waste away. But, he knew he had to be a pillar for his mother—and his father. Roann needed to succeed not only for the honor of their family name, but for the well-being of the empire as a whole.
“I know, Mother.” Roann patted her hand. “Did you talk to Dr. Thal?”
“Of course, dear. I fear Artol’s beginning to fade. You should go see him, it would raise his spirits.”
“I have meetings with the commerce ministers this afternoon, but I’ll read to him after dinner.”
“I’m sure he’d enjoy that.” She nodded solemnly before changing her demeanor with a great sigh. “Now, what the devil do the commerce ministers want? Didn’t you just meet with them last week?”
It was obvious to Roann by the semi-forced smile on her face that she was finished talking about his father. He knew it was difficult for her to come to terms with her husband’s ill health, and it seemed to him that she welcomed her time with the prince—when she could allow herself a few moments of normality.
“You know as well as I, the commerce ministers would gladly follow me home at night and talk my ear off about money and politics as I sat in the bath.” Roann cracked a wry smile. “They just want to review the last council meeting. I can’t be everywhere at once, and Ministers Malgerius and Brymark were gracious enough to take notes.”
“Don’t spread yourself too thin, dear. You have the ministers because you trust their judgment when it comes to matters of state. No one will think any less of you if you don’t make every single decision. Your father certainly didn’t.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
“You’re never going to find a wife if you’ve got bags under your eyes, you know.” Eilith quirked a mischievous eyebrow.
“Mother…”
“Don’t ‘mother’ me. It’s my right as your birth-giver to want to know when you’re going to get married. I don’t want to see you devote all your time to your country and forget about your own personal happiness. Being the emperor doesn’t mean you have to leave behind the pursuit of a life of your own.”
“Believe me, if there was a woman in my life; you’d be the first to meet her.”
Thankfully for him, the empress accepted his reply and he didn’t have to explain his lack of love interests any further. It wasn’t that he didn’t want someone by his side, but all the young women who had been “recommended” had never suited his tastes. Had he lived a normal life, he could have pursued love on his own terms, but being the reigning monarch of the most powerful empire in the world left him little time for a personal life.
Roann relished in every moment he could spend with his mother, knowing that she was getting on in life. Yes, she was in good health, but the years had obviously started to take their toll. Empress Eilith spent most of her days caring for the ailing emperor, with almost no time left for herself. Seven years her senior, Emperor Artol had been an invalid for ten years and had become quite a burden. She and Roann would never say that out loud, of course, but his quality of life was definitely hard for everyone to witness.
Mother and son shared the rest of their meal engaged in quiet small talk, with the empress sharing her dislike for one of the new nurses caring for Artol. Knowing that his mother could, at times, be overly critical when it came to her husband’s care, the young prince assured her he could remedy the issue with diplomacy and no need for harsh words. The empress agreed, and the matter was closed.
Roann set his fork down on his now empty plate and dabbed at his lips with a linen napkin. “Wonderful lunch, thank you, Mother.”
“Thank the kitchen staff, not me.” Her eyes hid a yearning sadness for her old life.
The prince stood and extended his hand to the woman, who graciously accepted. Her delicate fingers curled around his strong ones as he helped her stand. She took a moment to look him up and down, before straightening his collar with a motherly smile.
“You’re a good man. Your father and I are very proud of you.”
“Everything I do, I do for the good of the people—and for you.” He kissed her cheek softly. “I just hope it’s enough.”
“It is, darling. It is.” Her hand moved to his face, and she gently tucked a lock of hair back behind his ear. “You’re the perfect son.”
“That’s what you think,” Roann said playfully.
His mother moved away, her long yellow gown ghosting across the rich wooden floor. The sunlight beaming in from the stained-glass windows in the empress’ sitting room cast a playful kaleidoscope on the floorboards. Eilith climbed the stairs to her private quarters, blowing a kiss to her son before disappearing down the hallway.
Leaving his mother to attend to his father, the prince turned heel and left the room, zigzagging down the warm and inviting corridors connecting his family’s apartments with the rest of the palace proper. Emerging into a grand central atrium, he glided down the majestic staircase and into the main corridor of the castle, bustling with activity. Workers dusted tapestries and washed floors, ministers darted in and out of small offices busy with the daily goings-on of running a country. A small group of Keld residents followed a tour guide as they wound their way around the main building, mouths gaping in awe of the sheer grand scale. As Roann passed, they all bowed with flushed faces and wide smiles, absolutely giddy that they had actually been in the presence of their sovereign.
Roann felt perfectly safe within the walls of the fortress—within Keld for that matter. If it were his choice, he would never be accompanied by bodyguards. But he understood the need for protection when he left the palace. After all, he was a monarch—and that position wasn’t without risk. So it was times like this, inside the castle, that he relished in the fact that he was allowed to roam free.
He walked past the palace chapel, the aroma of incense wafting out from the open door. The prince felt a tickle in his nostrils, and quickly brought his hand under his nose in an attempt to stifle it. His actions too late, he sneezed loudly, startling the cleric insid
e. The old house priest, Morigar, was on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor in front of the grand altar. A statue of the Goddess Oleana rested on top, staring out into the room. When Roann sneezed, he jumped up, putting his hand over his heart. At the ready to scold whomever it was that had disturbed the tranquility of the holy place, his grumpy scowl turned to a broad smile when he saw the prince standing in the doorway.
“Your Majesty!” Morigar dropped his sponge into a bucket of soapy water. The light streaming in through ornate windows bathed him in a heavenly aura as he walked through one of the light shafts. The smoke from the incense hung heavy in the air, visible even in the dim chapel as it moved on currents, ebbing and flowing across the shafts of light. Moving swiftly toward his sovereign, he held out both hands to greet the young man. “What a wonderful surprise, Highness.”
“I’m sorry I startled you.” Roann smiled apologetically as he grabbed the man’s hands firmly in greeting. “It’s that damn incense.”
“Language, Your Grace,” the friar scolded with a wry grin.
“Sorry…that darn incense.” Roann winked, then looked past him toward the front of the room. “Why are you washing the floors? Don’t you have acolytes to help you with that?”
“It helps keep me young—and in the good graces of the Goddess. Hard work and penance earn one a place at her side in the Gentle Reach.
“If that’s the case, your entrance into the Gentle Reach is certain.” The prince motioned to the door with a flick of his head. “I must be going, Father. The commerce ministers aren’t patient men.”
“Indeed they aren’t.” The cleric pointed to his bucket. “And duty calls. I trust I’ll see you at services tomorrow evening?”
The Alchemist: Dawn of Destiny Page 7