by Tina Silvens
He laughed at his own appearance. In the struggle to improve his mood, he threw cold water on his face a few times, then looked again into the mirror. Nothing changed. I still don’t look good. These dark circles make me look tired and sick. Oh well, it’s better so. May the people get scared of me rather than poke fun at me.
He changed into an elegant day-time costume: a white shirt with silver buttons, an elbow-sleeved black jacket, and black trousers with diverse fine decorations, and for his feet, simple black boots. On his chest, at the right, he attached a golden rhombus-shaped badge that marked his rank in the palace.
He quickly combed his hair, dragging it to make it look tidy, took an overall look at himself, straightened his spine and pulled his shoulders back, then took a heroic approach to the door and hurriedly made his way to the small conference room.
*
In the hall that led to that specific room, he had already observed two servants from a distance: a man and woman, ears stuck to the door in an assiduous attempt to eavesdrop on the conversation inside. From time to time, they talked to each other.
“Say ya Brenda, do ya hear anything?” asked the man. “Why are they fighting?”
“Shut ya mouth! I think I’ve just started to figure out something...” whispered the maid.
“What?” insisted the servant.
“They’re cursing each other for sure!”
“Ugh! I got that too, ya! But why, ya? What the hell—oh!” gasped the man in the end, seeing that the prince was already near them.
“May I know what you two are doing here? Are you perhaps... eavesdropping?” asked Soris, playing dumb.
The two hesitated and blabbered in a chorus, “Oh, no, Your Highness! We wouldn’t dar—”
“Wait for me in front of my office! I must have a talk with you two” He menacingly cut off their words.
“Yes, of course, of course!” they consented in a stuttering chorus, bending respectfully.
Finding himself alone in the hall, Soris put his hand on the the doorknob, behind which, now and again, his parents’ blown-up words could be heard. They were having a fierce discussion, with the clear tones of a quarrel.
He sighed a little, knowing very well what was to be seen inside. Those quarrels weren’t too rare, especially since the official end of the war, and this wasn’t his first day to go cool them down. It seemed to him as if he was following a role in a play.
He took a deep breath, summoned his courage, and sneaked inside.
The queen—a medium-brown-haired and hazel-eyed woman, elegantly dressed—yelled at the king, “You wretch! You’ve almost destroyed the entire palace! My life itself wasn’t enough! Since you married me, all you’ve done was play around. You’ve turned my life into hell! You’re irresponsible! If only you knew how much I’ve suffered because of your escapades, how many times I nearly died because of the poisons sent as gifts by your mistresses!”
The king—a dark-haired, green-eyed, fancily-dressed man, beside himself at his wife’s words, said ironically, “Shut your mouth, dear queen. Why do you say I’ve destroyed the palace? Have you gone with me on the battlefield? Have you fought so many armies of savages like I did? Do you think it’s my fault the war took so long? Had you been me, it wouldn’t even be ended today! And don’t pick on my personal matters anymore! You’d better think about what should be done in this palace! Show some contribution!”
The queen pursed her lips with anger. She kept silent for a few seconds, barely refraining from slapping him.
Soris, seeing a good opportunity in this moment of their silence, shyly interfered, “Mother! Father! Could you please calm...”
They both turned their angered eyes to him, as if they had only now noticed his presence in the room. Soris took a step back, stricken by their greatly hate-fueled looks. Now I think they’ll aim at me. Ugh, I guess even by now I haven’t got used to this kind of look from them. They always scare me...
The queen, just like Soris had expected, pointed her finger at him. She turned to the king and said in an affected, taunting tone, “Take a look at your son! Look at him for at least a second! How can I not pick on your so-called ‘personal matters’ when Soris, our own son, was about to die at the hands of one of your attendants?”
Oh, no, not this discussion again... Soris sighed in his mind, exasperated, knowing already the monotonous and repetitive ritual their quarrel was following. He watched them with indifference, as if he was waiting for something.
The king dashed into his defense: “Why must you always remind me of that event? That happened only once and—and she wasn’t exactly my attendant! It was another situation... Cut it out! What matters is that he’s alive. Be pleased with this, ‘cause anyway he’s a dullard, a bighead who always thinks he’s smarter than me!”
“How dare you call him a dullard, you bastard! Why dullard, when he went with you in war? He helped you win, you ungrateful man!” said the queen spitefully, resting her hands on her hips.
“Anyone can do that! Anybody can learn to fight!” the king shouted back, irritated. “He wasn’t the only one who went to war, but an entire army, you ignorant woman! The war didn’t end thanks to him. And he, this haggard boy, isn’t able to lead an army, therefore he can’t take up the throne!”
This was the sentence that Soris had awaited. He knew, from great experience, that after this a moment of rest followed, which gave him the chance to interfere and be conciliatory. “Mom, please, cool down. You don’t have to let the whole palace know that you’re fighting with dad. I’ve already found some servants eavesdropping by the door. Please, don’t fight with dad in these rooms anymore.”
The queen replied with a very indignant face.
That’s it! the boy triumphantly exclaimed in his mind. You’d better talk to me, mom; you’d better take me as your target...
Rashly scrutinizing him, the queen yelled at him, “What? You’re siding with the king? Have you forgotten how uncaring he was to you? Have you forgotten how he shamelessly implied that you weren’t his son? Have you forgotten all I did for you as a mother?”
With a cold face, Soris stared into space at the floor. He knew that he shouldn’t say anything now, shouldn’t reply to any question, shouldn’t let himself get dragged into this talk by any means; otherwise the quarrel would stretch considerably, without changing its ending—that of no agreement—in any way.
The queen, seeing how he kept quiet, sighed, disappointed. She watched him closely and told him with reprehension, “Very well, Soris. It seems I was all wrong about you. All my efforts to educate and bring you up to become an honorable, respectable man were in vain. It’s all up to you if you want to follow your dad and become this sort of a man: a crook, a womanizer, a great sham who thinks he’s high and mighty!”
She threw her eyes at the ceiling to cool her indignation down a bit, then added in a low tone, as if she thought aloud, “What a cursed destiny I have... I thought that if I educated you myself, you’d be different than your father. But this is it: like father, like son. It’s useless to struggle. Men are all the same!”
Then she hastily passed by him and left the room, almost crying.
The first part is done, Soris noted to himself. Now I should say something quickly before father gets his chance to scold and lecture me for who knows how long. I know what to tell him.
He put on a resigned face and asked the king, “Why do you upset mother this much?”
This expression brought up many memories for Soris. He could see himself asking this question when he was little—with much anger, rage, and emotional implication—compared to how he put it now, in a pathetic tone that masked boredom and lack of interest. This scene had been repeating way too many times in his life.
The king turned to him and, agitated by the queen’s words, rattled at him, venting all his anger upon him. “What is it, you good-for-nothing? Are you being smart with me again? Are you picking on my life again? You t
hink that just because you helped me a bit in war, you can be a king? Get lost! Haven’t I seen you on the battlefield? Bah, you’ve no tact at all; you act without thinking... therefore you’re unable to lead an army! You’re a wastrel who doesn’t have anything better to do than criticize me for... for what I do. Out with you! From my point of view, you’re not a real man! I’m ashamed to be your father! Had you resembled me, it’d have been a lot better! You oaf! Mind your own life!”
The king left the room, shutting the door loudly behind him.
Soris sighed and told himself, somewhat contentedly: That’s it. It’s over. I’ve succeeded in calming them down again. My magical solution worked again. If I take on all of their complaints, everything finishes quickly. Man, they’ve got so many things to say, and to think how nice they were to me during wartime... But there’s no time for melancholy now. I’ve got to go to my office and have a talk with the two gossipers from a while ago. Let’s see what formal punishment I choose to give them...
Chapter 5
Shortly after finishing with the small office matters, Soris went to one of his favorite places in the palace: the superior terrace. It was a large terrace situated on the third level. He liked it for the panoramic view it offered, and because it was a secluded zone, away from the indiscreet eyes of the servants concentrated inside the building.
Stepping on the decorative stone pavement of the terrace, Soris raised his hands and gazed at the high clear sky, which cooled down his thoughts. He deeply inhaled the fresh and slightly perfumed air of the ornamental plants, which were placed on the side margins in big pots of stone.
He lazily advanced towards the simplistically-sculptured marble balustrade. Through its gaps, the green tops of the trees from the royal garden could be seen. Reaching close enough to rest his hands on it, he looked fascinated at the great landscape before his eyes, as if he saw it for the first time.
How good that the war is over. Now nothing threatening can be seen from afar. In fact, I can’t believe it’s been quiet for so many days...
He continued to watch, absorbed by the vast territory dominated by forests and human settlements alike and bordered at the horizon by a row of hills.
A gentle breeze fondled his face, moving the strands of hair on his forehead. It was at last peace, peace that gave him a bit of joy. But more often than not, this happiness sounded hollow in his soul, like a falling drop of water in a big glass, water that was going to evaporate quite soon. He couldn’t explain it to himself, but the ending of the war, which he’d awaited with so much enthusiasm and impatience, in fact didn’t make him very happy.
He felt empty inside and rigid on the outside, as if the many battles had destroyed all of his senses, making him feel any emotion or joy only faintly. He’d had enough resting days, but he was still tired. He had the sensation that his whole body had been trampled over by a mass of people.
He propped himself on his elbows on the balustrade’s edge. He exhaled as he thought: The doctor told me I was suffering from post-traumatic stress after so much war. I was only sixteen when I went along with my father on the battlefield. It’s been five years since then... I’ve been a witness to so many killings, and I myself, in my turn, killed so many people, whether I wanted to or not.
He remembered the old woman from the morning nightmare. It hadn’t been just a figment from the dream world. I didn’t want her son to die. That only happened because he’d chosen to be my personal guard.
He went into a state of contraction, of sorrow. He had dropped into a mind trap that surrounded him with a hurricane of dark past images.
Suddenly he shuddered, to push away the regret and feelings of guilt that often blew over him like the heavy waves against a sea wall. He still found it hard to get over the violent memories acquired during the military clashes.
The doctor told me to forget all I’d seen in war, and to focus only on the present and future, Soris repeated to himself in the hope of getting over that state more quickly. He looked again at the sky. How I wish I could fly, float like a cloud in the air... Each time he told himself this, he had a habit that he had been following from early childhood: getting up on the balustrade to create the illusion that he was flying.
Thus, although he hesitated a little because of the weakness he felt deep in his bones, he tried again, cautiously, to get on the balustrade, putting up his right leg first. I can’t wait to see myself up there...
Right at that moment Daniel, at a calm and joyous pace, appeared on the terrace. Knowing from before that he would find the prince here, he said, “Soris, I’m so glad that...”
But seeing how the prince ominously got up on the balustrade, he gasped, terrified. He opened his eyes wide, threw up his hands and screamed, “Soris! For God’s sake, don’t kill yourself!”
Daniel ran to him, grabbed him by the hand, then dragged him off the marble margin, begging him plaintively, “Soris, I beg you, don’t kill yourself! You can’t do this! I know your life is hard, but please don’t do this! The people need you!”
Soris landed back on his feet, wobbling, unbalanced by Daniel’s tug. For a fair amount of time, the prince struggled in vain to explain that he didn’t wish to take his life.
Daniel was hard to convince. He knew Soris’ health condition; therefore now, as he had been advised by the doctor, he overwhelmed the prince with encouragements and compliments.
“Enough, Daniel! This discussion is over now!” exclaimed Soris, exasperated to some point. “Tell me why you were looking for me!”
“Well, umm... I don’t think this is the best moment...” Soris urged him with riled eyes. “But, fine. I wanted... I wanted to bid you farewell before I leave. I know I’ve been your guard for only a short time, but I wanted to tell you that I was... I was more than honored to do that. Today I’ve received His Majesty’s permission to leave this job, now that the war is over. I must go home to my own family... I hope there won’t be a problem.”
Soris watched him silently for a couple of seconds. He couldn’t deny that Daniel’s departure saddened him a little. He had seen in the man quite a good friend, despite that Daniel had been his personal guard for only three months. Soris appreciated that he was unobtrusive, serious, and respectful, for which reason he allowed him to talk without honorifics. He knew, though, that Daniel, just like all others before him, didn’t wish to take on such a dangerous job.
“No, of course it’s no problem, Daniel. You’re free to go. You deserve to live a happy life for all the work you’ve done lately,” he answered with automatic politeness.
“Good... then... Farewell, Soris.”
Daniel made to leave, but then quickly changed his mind. He turned and added, “A-And, please don’t try to kill yourself again. There are pretty things to see in life too, believe me... I’d feel very guilty if something happened to you after I’d left.”
“Rest assured; I won’t commit suicide,” answered the prince with a sighing smile. He barely refrained himself from rolling his eyes, watching how Daniel looked at him warily. Why must you have come right now to get it all wrong?
Daniel respectfully bent before him, saluted him for the last time, then left the terrace, and in the end the palace, in a hurry.
Soris watched his departure. Daniel seemed really happy to leave. No regrets. He hadn’t grown fond of the palace at all, or at least a bit fond of the prince, whom he’d fought alongside, cheek by jowl. He simply ran away from the palace as if he had escaped from prison, without looking back even once.
Soris raised his eyes again to the distant horizon. He smiled, reconciled with himself. After the end of the battles, I feel lonelier than ever. My guard left me; my parents see only flaws and problems in me...
He took a deep breath, brightened up a little by the pleasant gust of wind on his face, and encouraged himself: But it’s a new day. From now on, I’ll take on a new life; therefore it’s normal for everything to change around me.
He tu
rned in place, looked everywhere to make sure no one from the palace saw him, then stretched his arms carelessly, yawning loudly. He had no idea that, actually, someone was really watching him and saw even that free behavior, that minor deviation from the royal family’s conduct rules...
His face was projected on a magical screen, sustained and charged by a frame of multicolored sharp crystals that was placed on a stone wall inside an underground cavern from the desert zone, far away from the palace.
Eight people were watching him in real time, how he was carelessly yawning.
Between them there was a young woman with straight red hair, shoulder-length, kept to one side by some floral-decorated pins. Her dark eyes followed the face of the prince with much interest.
The rest was a group of men with barbaric faces, dressed in war costumes improvised from diverse pieces of old armor and adorned with pistols and knives. Most of them were sitting on wooden barrels, looking at the prince with hostility. From time to time, some were turning faces full of disgust or disappointment toward the young redhead, who was blatantly fascinated by the prince’s appearance.
Her armor was also improvised, but in such a manner as to make her look fancy. She was wearing a tight knee-length scarlet dress, over which she’d attached a wide metallic belt to underline her figure; she also wore vambraces, and tall boots with metallic decorations. The purpose of this equipment was more aesthetical than practical.
Vittria was her name and, although she looked undeniably seductive, not a single man around her dared to touch her; that was because she was very skilled in wielding the magical scepter on which she was now leaning—a long mace made from light metal, with a great shining black crystal at the top.
“Oh, the prince is so... so adorable!” she chirped excitedly, getting on the nerves of those around her. “Too bad he’ll have to die,” she added, curving her red lips in an evil smile.