The Disinherited Prince

by Guy Antibes

  “I think I have been given a message about that, already,” Pol said.

  Farthia looked confused, and then she understood. “Oh. You have indeed. Vigilance. Always vigilance. Even in the Emperor’s city, one must stay on one’s toes. My own father knows that all too well.”

  “What is next?”

  “A treatise on the religions of the world.” She pulled a thick book from one of the shelves and put it on the map table. “I’ll be traveling to Yastan and will be gone for a month or two. I want you to read this book while I’m gone. Malden Gastoria has agreed to take my place, and he will be teaching you other subjects, and working on your mathematics and writing skills. I leave tonight.”

  Pol pursed his lips. He liked his tutor and would miss her, especially if the actions of his siblings were to get worse.

  “What’s interesting in here?” Pol said as he hefted the book. It was so dense that he wouldn’t bring it back to his rooms, since the book was much too heavy for a fourteen-year-old boy, healthy or not.

  “Get to know what others believe. There’s even a religion on the continent of Volia that claims its god is sleeping in their cathedral. Just read it. I don’t think you’ll find it quite as dry as one of your history books, but it may be close. Promise you’ll read it while I’m gone?”

  “I’m sure parts of it will be interesting,” Pol said to be polite. He knew he wouldn’t be able to generate the enthusiasm that his tutor did about their studies.

  “You are dismissed,” she said.

  Pol gave Farthia the customary bow and left.

  On his way back to his rooms, Pol’s thoughts turned to what Malden Gastoria might teach him. He had to admit that the man intimidated him. However, he’d rather be intimidated by the magician, if he continued to be friendly, than assaulted by his brothers and sister. Any time that he could justify away from them was time well spent.

  He laid down to rest in his room. Fatigue had caught up with him, as it did from time to time. He rang for his dinner, and when the servant came, Pol said he wanted to study, so the servant followed him as he made his way back to the classroom.

  The servant lit the lamps and set the meal on Mistress Farthia’s desk, while Pol dragged the heavy book on religion to the large table and began to read. The sooner he started reading, the sooner he could complete Farthia’s task. He examined the table of contents and decided to start with the chapter on the sleeping god that Farthia had mentioned.

  Pol pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down the chapter’s number. If he skipped around, he might as well record what chapters he had read. He soon found out that whoever wrote the book had no intention of making the descriptions of the religion entertaining.

  The sleeping god, called Demeron, really existed in a crystal dome, if this book was to be believed. The crystal was opaque except for a small oval that revealed part of the face, and that face was purportedly not quite human. The sleeping chamber itself was a wonder, built out of strange metal with designs that looked like writing that no one knew. The whole thing sounded like a prank to Pol, so he was a bit disappointed when he read the description.

  The religion itself wasn’t too far off some sects in Baccusol, the book pointed out. There were priests who preached the waking of the sleeping god that would usher in a new level of life. In the few temples and churches that Farthia had taken him to, priests or clerics of one kind or another preached a coming of their god that would change the world. Pol found that he wasn’t very interested in religion, but he felt he had to learn how others lived when the opportunity presented itself.

  Farthia admitted that with all the gods worshipped, none had actually changed society. There were plenty of miracles sprinkled around, but magicians could create a miracle with powers that mimicked what a god might do. He wondered what miracles Malden Gastoria had performed. Did he perform a miracle in bringing Pol back to life from the poisoning?

  Pol finished making notes of the sleeping god sect and pulled out a map the world of Phairoon and located the city of Fassia in the upper part of the Volian continent.

  One chapter down and forty-seven more to go. How could there be so many religions? Pol yawned and rose to look out the window. The room looked down on the central part of Borstall, revealing a number of spires and domes of the eleven religions practiced openly in his city. They were pretty, but Pol didn’t feel a desire to belong to any of them.

  ~~~

  Chapter Three

  ~

  AFTER A RESTLESS NIGHT FILLED WITH GODS AND PRIESTS chasing him, Pol awoke and decided he needed some exercise, so he went to the family dining room early for breakfast. He breathed a sigh of relief that his siblings hadn’t shown up yet, so his plan of going early had paid off.

  He finished his breakfast just as Landon entered with his older sister Honna. Pol endured sneers from both of them, and neither spoke to him, even though he had wished them a good morning. He exited the dining room, wishing that he had finished sooner, but it felt good to walk the castle’s corridors after scurrying about for the past weeks.

  Pol looked down at the courtyard from a tall window and saw Farthia just getting into a carriage. Malden Gastoria helped her in and closed the door. They had a few final words, and as the carriage left, Malden waved with a slight smile on his face. He turned around to re-enter the castle and looked up to spy Pol standing in the window. Malden gave another little wave to him, before moving out of sight.

  Honna walked up beside Pol. “Making nice with Malden, the mad magician?”

  Pol narrowed his eyes. “Malden’s not mad. Different, but not mad.”

  “Twit,” Honna said, turning her face into her characteristic sneer and pushed Pol backwards.

  He fell over something and landed on his shoulders, and his head slammed into the stone floor. He noticed Landon’s face leering before the pain in his head made him pass out.

  ~

  “Not again,” Pol said as he came to. Back in the infirmary, he looked up at Malden. “How long was I out this time?”

  Malden frowned. “An hour? I suppose they pulled this prank while you were at the window looking at Farthia leave.”

  Pol nodded, but that made his head ache. “This time it was a prank,” Pol said. “They’ve used that trick enough times in my life. I thought both of them had outgrown something like that.”

  “When you get older, pushing someone backwards gets more dangerous. Your lack of strength didn’t help you avoid hitting your head.”

  “I know. I tried to get to my breakfast early, but not early enough.”

  Malden took Pol’s pulse. He closed his eyes and whispered something. The magician’s eyes opened, but were unfocused. “I’ll be eating my meals with you, for now. Perhaps breakfast in your chambers and dinner in mine, unless King Colvin eats with his family.”

  “They will hate me even more if I do that.”

  Malden shook his head. “Do you really think they will change their minds? I don’t.”

  The magician’s frank opinion shocked Pol. “You should be defending them. Saying their anger will eventually go away. That’s what most people say. They will outgrow the pranks,” Pol said.

  “Oh, I’ll concede that their anger may end some day in the distant future, but they will never like you. Prince Poldon Fairfield is an unwelcome threat to them, especially Landon, since he has his heart set on ruling Listya.”

  Pol felt deflated. In a fair world, he would be the one in line to sit on the Listyan throne, but what was fair or honest in the world around him? He shook his head and made it ache.

  “Spend today in bed. I’ll send along Paki to cheer you up.” Malden stood up and left Pol alone in the same room he had used to recover from the poisoning.

  Amonna poked her head in the door an hour or so later. “Are you feeling any better?”

  “I felt just fine this morning before breakfast,” Pol said. He rubbed his forehead and the pain didn’t seem as bad. “My headache has improved, if that’s what
you mean.”

  She smiled. “It was. I’m sorry about Honna’s prank.”

  “Honna and Landon,” Pol said, correcting her. “I’m sure they aren’t sorry.

  Amonna just nodded. She gave him a weak smile. “Get better. Perhaps we can spend an afternoon in the classroom reading.”

  “I’d like that,” Pol said. At least she acted friendly. He didn’t expect her to actually take any time out with him. Amonna wasn’t filled with anger, but there were always a lot of ‘perhaps’ in their conversations that never came to pass.

  She patted his hand and said goodbye, leaving Pol alone in the room again. He looked out the window and let a healer check on his heartbeat and pulse. The healer didn’t say a word and left him alone.

  Pol began to get restless when Kelso Beastwell walked in. He was a tall, broad man who had served faithfully as his father’s Captain of the Guard. His father commissioned Kelso to train his brothers in the use of arms. All of the older siblings attended some kind of weapons classes, especially Landon and Grostin. The two sisters had learned basic defenses using whatever was at hand and knew how to carry and use small knives, at least Amonna had told him that. Pol had no reason to doubt her word.

  “It’s about time you commenced your training. The king told me to let you grow up a bit, but from what I heard today, it’s time for you to get started. You need to learn to defend yourself.”

  “I’m not interested in fighting my brothers,” Pol said. “They would only hit me harder.”

  “Not so,” Kelso said.

  Pol thought, what did he know? Kelso had never been poisoned or the object of such hate. Pol found himself too tired to fight back. Thoughts of doing so only made his head hurt worse.

  “I don’t want to learn. Perhaps if you can teach me some exercises that I can do in my rooms…” Pol offered an alternative, and that would be all Kelso would get out of him.

  Kelso had the look that told Pol that he had succeeded in avoiding any physical activity. It looked like he had won, this time.

  “It is my wish, Prince, that you improve and return to your studies. If you change your mind, I’m sure we can teach you something to improve your chances to survive in this life.” He gave Pol a short bow and left him alone with his thoughts.

  Malden Gastoria thought his siblings wouldn’t get any worse. Pol knew otherwise. He could see all kinds of nastier tricks they could play on him. It seemed that their actions took a turn for the worse, and Pol would have to find a way to make them hate him less. He could make that his goal. He nodded to himself, but he wracked his brain for some kind of solution to his dilemma.

  Maybe avoiding his siblings was the wrong approach. Perhaps his defensiveness made things worse. He snapped his fingers and thought he had found the answer. He would make more of an effort to be a friend to them all.

  Tomorrow he would show up for breakfast at their normal time and extend a hand of friendship. Pol wasn’t so naive as to think that he could let his guard down, but he would do what he could to show them that their intimidation efforts wouldn’t make him angry with them.

  ~

  Breakfast couldn’t come too soon for Pol. He had to wait, pacing the floor of his sitting room, waiting for the right time to bound into the dining room. Rain began to patter against the windows as the sky turned darker and darker.

  The time had come, so he walked quickly to the dining room, only to find his mother and father as sole occupants. Where were his siblings?

  “I am sorry to intrude,” Pol said. Bowing his head to the King and Queen of North Salvan.

  “You’re not intruding, my dear,” his mother said. “The other children poked their heads in the door and quickly left, just like you. Have a seat and tell us how you feel after yesterday’s accident.”

  Accident? Pol thought that it was more like assault. “How did you find out?”

  “Malden, as usual,” the King said. “Although I don’t think he termed it an accident.” He looked at his wife.

  Pol restrained a smile. So Malden had supported him while he described the incident. Good for the magician.

  She waved off her husband’s stare. “We need to all get along,” she said, uncomfortably.

  Their comments confused him. He thought his father would defend his children, and now his mother was…or was she? Perhaps she had come to the same conclusion that he had. He couldn’t help but nod his head while he looked over at the buffet table. “I’ll get something,” he said, hoping to change the subject and get out of their line of sight. Pol knew he didn’t hide his feelings very well. He sighed at the thought, because none of his siblings could either.

  “We haven’t really had the chance to chat, just the three of us,” King Colvin said. He looked at his wife. “It might be a good idea to get something out in the open.”

  Pol quickly began to eat. He didn’t want to be in the position of having to say anything about Landon’s claim to the Listyan throne, but if his father was obsessing on Listya, Pol would certainly be made uncomfortable. The King’s mind could be transparent sometimes.

  “I intend on placing Landon on your throne, Molissa.”

  Even though she knew it was inevitable, his mother turned red. “I know you will do what is best for my country.”

  “Our country,” his father corrected. “It remains my country, not Landon’s. He will serve as a vassal-king to me.”

  For how long? Pol thought. Listya was across the continent, and that would probably be far enough away from North Salvan for Landon to do whatever he wanted.

  His mother cleared her throat. “How will Hazett III accept the concept of a king having a vassal-king? It’s never been attempted during the Empire before. Dukes were the highest ranked vassals to kings, and there are none in the Empire that I know of now.”

  The king waved his fork around. “Details. Details that I have taken care of. The petition is already on its way to Yastan.”

  So that was one reason his tutor had left so abruptly. The petition had to be on the carriage with Farthia Wissingbel. So his teacher traveled all the way to the Imperial Capital as his father’s messenger? If she didn’t know Emperor Hazett III, her father certainly would. Did she know what his father had included in the petition? She might. That didn’t mean she supported it, since he felt that she didn’t like Landon all that much.

  “What about Pol?” his mother said.

  Pol nearly winced at her question. He didn’t want the King’s focus on him, and he couldn’t help but squirm in his chair. He quickly put another morsel in his mouth to keep from saying anything.

  “Pol? What about him? He is weak. Smarter than my other children, but weak, and who knows how long his health will hold up dealing with the stresses of ruling a kingdom?” The King spoke of him as if he wasn’t seated at the same table. What kind of a compliment did he just hear? Smarter than the others, but not up to the stress. His father might just be right. This conversation was already wearing him out.

  “It’s all right, Mother. I never have thought about ruling your country. All I’m really interested in right now is learning as much as I can about the world, and Mistress Wissingbel is teaching me to be a scholar, not a king.” Pol knew that wasn’t entirely true, but the fib would serve the purpose of hopefully avoiding his father’s attention. The last thing Pol wanted his father to do was join his siblings in disliking him.

  “See, Molly?”

  His mother shook her head at the King. “I told you not to use that nickname in front of the children.”

  “I don’t see what’s wrong,” the King shrugged. “Very well.”

  “If you want me to sign something to keep me from taking the Listyan throne, I’ll consider it, Father. If it will stop the ‘accidents,’ I may be willing,” Pol said.

  His mother shot him a warning glare.

  “In the future, when I’m closer to a proper age, of course.” Pol put his head down and took another bite, rather proud of himself for coming up with the offer.
He didn’t worry about his health lasting in the near term; at least as long as Malden was around, but his siblings might not wait for his health to fail; in fact, it appears that they had already stopped waiting.

  “Of course,” his father said, with an eye firmly on his wife. “Something to think about.” He straightened his tunic and stood. “I’m done, and I think we’ve talked enough. Are you finished, my queen?”

  “I’m not quite done. You go on ahead, if you wish, Husband.”

  The King nodded to the both of them and left.

  His mother took a drink of watered wine from a goblet and put it down on the table a bit more forcefully than called for, and that made Pol jump. He’d never seen such anger on her face, and it also showed how tightly her hands were fisted.

  “To mention that to you! I’m sorry, Poldon. I must apologize for the King.”

  Pol put his hand up. “No apology necessary, Mother. I’m serious about a letter of abdicating my right to the Listyan throne. It may be the only way I can survive for the next few years.”

  His mother looked shocked, and then after long moment, tears formed in her eyes. “Oh, my dear one. You are wiser than your years.”

  “The King did say I was smarter.”

  She narrowed her eyes, but Pol could see the playfulness in her face. “Smarter than your siblings doesn’t mean you are smart, just relatively so.”

  Pol nodded.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if the King is looking in the Imperial Codex and in the law books of North Salvan for the rules on abdication. It is horrible what Colvin’s three oldest children have done to you. Their meanness only gets worse.”

  “It might have stopped forever in the forest if Siggon hadn’t—” Pol said.

  “I know what Siggon did. You don’t have to describe it at breakfast,” she said.