by Sever Bronny
Augum thought the flickering candle too dim. “Shyneo.” His hand crackled to life.
Ms. Grinds briefly stopped and gave him a disapproving look before gathering her dress and moving on in rapid step.
Mya gave him a roguish smile. His heart tripled its pace and he felt his cheeks grow hot.
Ms. Grinds inspected each room as if her life depended on it, testing some of the furniture and re-arranging it into a more “adequate countenance.”
“But what of the charred remains?” she asked, frowning. “Did you not feel it necessary to remove the detritus?”
“We didn’t have the time, Ms. Grinds,” Bridget said in a strained yet polite voice.
“It’s nothing we can’t handle, m’lady,” Mya quickly said. “I don’t mind getting my hands dirty with soot.”
“Nor should you, girl. Very well then, you can do it this evening with the others after we set the kitchen right, just be sure to find out where the torches are.” She glanced about, shaking her head. “I have yet to see a single sconce or brazier. What sort of castle is this?”
“It’s an arcane castle,” Augum said. “There’s a servant diagram with instructions in the cellar.”
Ms. Grinds turned to him, face paler than usual in the blue light of his palm. “A diagram, you say?”
“Yes, in the cellar. It has loads of symbols and stuff. We can take you there if you like.”
“That will not be necessary. You three are excused. Mya, come with me, girl.”
Mya curtsied and followed Ms. Grinds, giving them a disconsolate backwards glance.
“Down to the cellar with only one candle … how brave,” Bridget said with a concerned look. “Should we follow them to make sure they find it all right?”
Leera crinkled her nose, swatting the idea aside. “Bah, they’ll be fine. Let’s eat.”
Augum badly wanted to follow and be useful, to light Mya’s way, to show them exactly where the plaque was—instead he found himself mutely following the girls.
“I’d hate to be her servant,” Leera said while climbing the marble steps.
“We do have Mrs. Stone,” Bridget said.
“True. Who do you think is stricter though?”
Bridget skipped the top step to the landing. “Mrs. Stone for sure—”
Augum extinguished his palm. “Mrs. Stone—she’s got more experience with it.”
The Prince
The trio entered the great dining room only to find it empty—except for a large bowl of hard winter apples in the middle of the table. Leera reached for one the moment they sat down.
“Leera Jones—” Bridget whispered in a scandalized voice, “what if that’s for the knights—or the prince?”
“Nonsense, I’m hungry.” She took a greedy bite. “Mmm … so tasty.” She shook the bitten apple under Bridget’s nose. “Bite?”
Bridget scoffed, crossed her arms and looked away.
Augum hesitated then caved to his hollow stomach. Having skipped breakfast, all he had eaten today was a single egg. He reached into the bowl and fished out the largest apple.
“Really now—” Bridget shook her head, but her eyes lingered on the bowl.
The skinny blonde servant girl Augum recognized as Rafinda walked in with a basket of sliced bread. Feeling guilty, he snuck bites when she was not looking.
“Wow, where’s all this coming from?” Leera asked, eyeing the bread like a predator sizing up prey.
Rafinda placed the basket at the far end of the table and curtsied. “My lady, some is from the prince’s supply, the rest is thanks to Mrs. Stone’s … magic.” An anxious look crossed her face upon spotting Leera biting an apple; she quickly curtsied and trundled off.
“Arcanewy, you mean,” Leera absently said while chewing.
“See, I told you it isn’t for us,” Bridget said.
Leera shrugged. “Off with my head, I suppose …”
“Maybe we should put them back,” Augum said with a crooked grin.
“Ugh, don’t be silly.”
He was deliberating on how to deliver the core to the prince’s seat when Mandy, the youngest and shortest servant girl, quietly walked in holding a tray of cheeses and meats.
The trio gaped, salivating. Mandy placed the tray beside the bread and gave a shy curtsy. Just as she left, Rafinda waltzed back in with an armful of fine porcelain plates, each engraved with King Ridian’s royal emblem—a wise-looking owl perched on two crossed swords above a gilded crown.
The servants traded off like this, each bringing food, cutlery or fine china. With every trip, Augum’s stomach growled louder. Before long, the table overflowed with exquisite porcelain, silverware, cut crystal goblets, and plenty of food, including roasted pheasant; seasoned parsnip; steamed carrots and peas; buttered potatoes and chives; candied yam; and pumpkin pie with honeyed almond. This would be the most luxurious meal he had ever attended, and by the looks on Bridget and Leera’s faces, he suspected the same was true for them.
Conversation echoed from the hall as he realized he still had the apple core in his hand. Disposing of the evidence would simply have to wait.
“… your help with the wall would be greatly appreciated, Mrs. Stone. We can start this evening.”
“I am afraid that is out of the question, Eldric; I will be departing the castle for the night.”
“We shall begin the work nonetheless, Your Ladyship—”
“—Mrs. Stone will do.”
“Mrs. Stone—of course.” Sir Gallows sounded like a chided pupil. Augum pictured the shaggy-browed, distinguished knight sitting in a school desk at the academy, and stifled a laugh.
Five more knights entered the room still wearing their fur-padded armor, though helmless.
“Please sit, sirs,” Mrs. Stone said, extending her hands in invitation. The knights sat in the middle, three on each side of the table.
“Allow me to introduce my great-grandson Augum Stone, and his friends Leera Jones and Bridget Burns.”
The knights immediately stood back up and nodded their acquaintance. Augum, Bridget and Leera hastily stood as well, acknowledging with nods of their own. To Augum it all felt so formal. He squished the apple core in his fist, hoping he would not have to shake anyone’s hand. Meanwhile, Gallows made the introductions on behalf of the knights.
“This is Sir Fostian Red—”
A knight with bushy red hair and a big red nose bowed.
“And here we have Sir Edrian Castor—”
A skinny knight with sallow skin, hollow cheeks and a bald head bowed stiffly.
“Over here is Sir Wilbur Brack and his brother, Sir Wilfred Brack—”
The brother knights bowed with smiles. Each had short brown hair, brown eyes, and complexions ladies surely swooned for.
“And lastly, we have Sir Jayson Quick, also known as the Nightsword—”
A powerful-looking knight with dead eyes and a grizzled appearance brushed his mustache with his thumb. He stared at Augum without blinking.
“Alas, Sir Dollard Canes is lying wounded in his room. Therefore, his introduction will have to wait.”
Augum, tired of holding the core, quietly placed it on the edge of his plate. It was rude to start eating before everyone sat, even ruder to do it to royalty. The evidence was far from inconspicuous too. Luckily, the servants ignored the infraction. Bridget merely pursed her lips while Leera rubbed her nose to hide her smile.
Prince Sydo sauntered in followed by Lord Boron. Everyone remained standing until he sat on the throne, a sour expression on his face. The servants, now including Mya and Ms. Grinds, quietly walked back and forth retrieving hot food from who knew where. Augum thought there had to be some arcane way for them to get it so fast from the kitchen.
Sydo eyed the core on Augum’s plate and turned to Lord Boron. “I see courtesy is unknown to the peasants. I suppose we must be patient with their … low breeding.”
Lord Boron cleared his throat nervously whilst looking around the table. “Heh heh, my, th
e food looks delicious today!”
“Hear hear!” said Sir Gallows, raising a glass of ale and standing. Chairs creaked as everyone immediately joined him. “A toast to our distinguished host, Mrs. Anna Atticus Stone. Thank you for giving shelter.”
“Hear hear!” said the crowd.
Mrs. Stone surrendered a small bow as everyone took their places once again.
“Do we get to eat now?” Leera mouthed to Augum.
Sydo was the first to dig in, sending the signal the trio had been eagerly waiting for. The knights, Mrs. Stone, Augum, Bridget and Leera then began helping themselves, while Lord Boron and the prince had the servants fill their plates for them. Each time Mya passed near, Augum felt his body tingle.
“Ms. Grinds reported your repair work satisfactory,” Mrs. Stone said amongst the measured scraping of cutlery on china. The trio smiled sheepishly but did not reply. Augum thought “satisfactory” was likely high praise coming from Grinds.
“I have a new task for the three of you this evening,” she continued while herding peas onto her fork with her knife. “You are to help the prince repair his room on the fifth floor.”
Bridget smiled, Leera grimaced, while Augum felt his curiosity stir, as they had yet to explore the fifth floor.
“Can’t he do it himself—?” Leera said a little too loudly. A hush came over the table as she turned beet red.
“What did the little peasant rat say?” Sydo asked. “Lord Moron—?
Lord Boron cleared his throat. “Heh heh … I believe something to the effect that His Royal Highness has yet to learn the Repair spell so he could fix—”
“What—? How dare that gutter—”
Mrs. Stone sighed and stood. With much scraping of chairs and clanking of silverware, the knights and Lord Boron immediately rose as well, followed by a begrudging prince and a pensive trio.
She gestured in irritation for everyone to sit. Exchanging looks, they reluctantly did as she asked. A thick silence befell the room as she directed her gaze at the prince. “I had the privilege of briefly knowing your late father, the king.”
Augum, wondering where she was going with this, stiffened in his chair.
“He was wise in many things, though when it came to his children, I daresay he was a mighty fool.”
No one moved. Sydo looked like he had just been run over by an ox cart.
“He never could find time for them, choosing to hear the complaints of his people over the complaints of his children. Thus, when his first three sons died fighting Narsus—nobly, and with courage—he did not weep, for he did not know them. When his daughter died by Lividius’ hand, still King Ridian did not weep, for he barely knew the child. Anger and revenge carried his heart in those dark times. It is said only when my grandson was about to put King Ridian himself to death, that he finally wept, saying that neglecting his children was his greatest regret.”
Augum wished she had used Sparkstone in place of grandson; he wanted to distance himself from his father and his deeds.
“You, Prince Sydo Ridian,” Mrs. Stone continued, “are the last of his line; the last son and heir to the throne. Your father heeded life’s lesson with his dying breath, yet he left a son with a cold heart, a short temper, and little wisdom, wisdom that his wise father—the Lord of Owls and Protector of the Realm—had been known for. And so the question then becomes—will his son, the heir to the Kingdom of Solia, learn to love before it is too late?”
Her wrinkled face softened as she sat back down. Everyone turned to watch the prince. A few nodded in agreement, notably Sir Gallows, the brother knights, and Lord Boron, who lowered his eyes when Sydo looked upon him. The prince slumped in the throne. Suddenly he stifled a sob and bolted from the room. Lord Boron stood and made to follow but Gallows raised a hand.
“Let him go.” Gallows then turned to Mrs. Stone. “The young prince is not used to hearing such naked truths, Mrs. Stone.”
“Perhaps the boy would be better served if he heard it more often, especially from his council.” Her eyes flicked to Lord Boron, who mopped his brow. “If he ever hopes to sit the throne and lead, he will need to learn compassion, love, wisdom, and the ability to listen—all traits his father had in abundance.”
Many of the knights nodded.
Lord Boron adjusted his great body in his chair. “The boy does lack discipline, but the truth of the matter is that I do not have the skill to teach him the arcane arts, as his father desired. Perhaps … heh heh … perhaps Your Ladyship, the most esteemed sorceress of our age, would take on this task? For the kingdom, of course.”
Augum shared a look with Leera. The last thing he wanted was to train alongside Sydo.
“Lord Boron, we cannot possibly ask Mrs. Stone to undertake such a burden,” Gallows said, though there was a note of disappointment in his voice.
“I am honored by the request.” Mrs. Stone took a moment to organize her plate. “However, if I were to take on the training of the prince, it would have to be on my terms, and I fear them impossible for the child.”
Lord Boron leaned forward with a gleeful smile. “What kind of terms do we speak of … heh heh … gold?” The remark drew titters from some of the knights.
“I am afraid the price is substantially higher than gold; he would have to completely and utterly forsake his dress, his titles, and any pretense of the throne.” Mrs. Stone gave Boron a hard look. “If I were to train him, he would be treated as nothing more than a common boy.”
Lord Boron looked about for support. “Why, I am afraid that is quite impossible.”
The burly Sir Fostian Red cleared his throat. “Although the prince would benefit greatly from Mrs. Stone’s training, I cannot condone the stripping of His Grace’s title.”
“Hear, hear,” said the others.
Gallows thought it over. “Perhaps the prince should decide on the matter.”
“I will be sure to pass on the issue in private then,” Lord Boron said in a manner that suggested there was no chance of the prince accepting the idea. Augum and Leera relaxed with audible sighs while Bridget frowned. Too late, Augum noticed Mrs. Stone watching him, and instantly knew he was in trouble.
“Any word from our brothers in Antioc?” asked the bald Sir Edrian Castor.
“None I daresay; I shall make an enquiry tonight,” Mrs. Stone replied, still frowning at Augum. To his immense relief, the servants interrupted by clearing the plates for a second course. The prince did not return however, and conversation did not resume.
Augum tried to catch Mya’s attention by flashing an excessively grateful smile for the peppered stew she set before him, only to be disappointed when she missed it.
The servants stood near the door, ready to serve their fancies, though neither Augum, Bridget, Leera, nor Mrs. Stone called on them. The knights and Lord Boron, on the other hand, regularly summoned them with a look or idle flick of the finger.
As Augum finished his meal in the usual quick fashion, he only hoped Mrs. Stone would not lecture him in front of Mya.
Lessons
After supper, Mrs. Stone excused the trio from the table to repair the prince’s room. They scurried off, grateful for being spared a public reprimand, and gathered at the marble steps.
“So the prince has a tragic tale of his own,” Bridget said with a dramatic sigh. “He suffered from a lack of love …”
Leera scowled. “So did Augum; he seems a decent enough fellow though.”
Augum flushed.
“I’m just saying—oh never mind.” Bridget began marching up the steps.
With a wicked grin, Leera turned to Augum. “You know, I think she has a crush on the prince.”
Bridget whipped around, face purple. “I do not! I merely feel sorry for him, is that okay with you—?”
Leera took a step back. “Bridge … you know I was just kidding. No need to get upset …”
Bridget turned away, sniffing and raising a hand. “I’m sorry, it’s just that the prince reminds me of …
of my brother, Oswald.” Then she crumpled and began sobbing into her hands.
Leera glanced at Augum guiltily before hugging her. “I’m sorry too, Bridge.”
Augum just stood there until he realized all Bridget needed was for him to be her friend. Her wet face emerged from behind a curtain of tangled hair. He sat down beside her and gave a pained smile.
“He was the meanest brother, truly wicked,” Bridget said between sobs, wiping her eyes. “He used to make fun of me, calling me ‘Icky Bridgey’. He’d trip me and throw me to the mud. He’d even throw food at me. Sometimes, though, he’d do secret things to help me that he didn’t think I’d notice, like feeding my puppy, or cleaning my muddy shoes so the other girls wouldn’t make fun of me …” She sniffled, the hair sticking to her face. Leera brushed it away.
“… and he once said … he said I was the only one that listened to him … and now he’s … now he’s gone …”
“I’m sorry, Bridge, truly,” Leera said. “We’ll give the prince a chance, right Aug?”
“Right.”
Bridget nodded between sniffs, smoothing her burgundy robe in an effort to compose herself. “I suppose we should go up and see about this room of his then, eh?”
Leera wiped Bridget’s tears like a big sister. After another hug, the trio made their way to the fifth floor.
It was smaller than the other floors due to a terrace that circumvented the exterior of the castle. Gilded hawks, lions and wolves supported where the ceiling met the walls, guarding faded grandiose tapestries, most torn, one missing altogether. Gilt wall pockets held ornate candelabras, a few of them cracked. Plant pots, at least the ones not destroyed, sat empty in the corners. The remnants of a finely carved settle lay strewn against the base of a wall. The flooring was a checkered marble pattern of black and white squares, freshly swept. A hallway with double doors at the end opened on to the balcony. There were four rooms, two on each side of the stairs. Each room had an intricately carved black oaken door.
But the grandest were the two massive arched windows that let in the majority of the light to the lower floors. The leaded stained glass depicted a hairless man in a plain robe meditating in a desert. It reminded Augum of the fountain in the forest room.