The Poison Prince

THE last time Julius had been to Gildstrum it had been reluctantly accompanying the prince on his journey to visit the Countess. By morning she had taken ill and confined herself to her bedchambers where not even the maids were allowed to check on her. Taiden had promised Julius everything was fine, but no one had seen the Countess since. Even those who worked for her reported that she took her meals on a silver tray left outside her room, collecting it only once the halls were clear again. The prince had been the last person to dine with her, and the rumours said she hadn’t been the same since that fateful meal. Julius was a loyal captain, but he wondered sometimes if he was destined to fall because of how faithful he was to the prince. He entertained his mad ideas, and allowed him to pursue dark studies even when he himself thought better of it. He cautioned Taiden, offered warnings when he thought it best, but more often than not Julius reminded himself that it was not his place to tell the prince how to live his life; he was the heir to Lyris, after all, whereas Julius was just the royal guard.

It was unnerving when he reached the high gates of Gildstrum. Julius could only recall his last journey here and the hasty exits that had to be made when the townspeople were whispering about their Countess and the sudden illness that had befallen her. Gildstrum was the powerhouse of the north. If anyone had openly accused the prince of poisoning the Countess it could have been civil war in Lyris. Julius had still feared it now as he rode through the town in royal armour, the crest emblazoned on his chest plate. He had done his best to hide it while he searched out a healer for the dying Draca, ever worried about someone being enraged by it.

Julius was a worrier. He worried even when he located the man who was apparently the greatest healer in the north. His heart tightened more when the healer shook his head at the mention of The Draca.
“No good,” he started, pushing the royal sealed parchment back at Julius, “The Draca are dying no matter what we give to ‘em.”
“This one isn’t diseased. He was caught under debris in a fire. The whole village was attacked and he was a casualty.” Julius explained, blocking the path quickly before the man was lost to a crowd of pleading peasants.
“I ‘ave sick to attend to ‘ere.”
“And these orders are from your prince. Do you dare defy him?”
The healer sighed and snatched the rolled parchment from Julius’ hand once more. “The mad prince, eh? I suppose if I don’t go I’ll find meself counting down the last o’ me days. Fine. Give me ‘til morning an’ I’ll come with you.” He shoved the parchment back at the captain. “I ‘ope our prince pays well.”
“I have coin here for you. You’ll receive it once your job is done.” Julius did not like the healer one bit. Why was it that those who were considered the best always carried their arrogance like it was something to be proud of?
He huffed and sniffed as though clearing a bad scent. “Come back after breakfast tomorrow,” and with that the healer turned his back on Julius and ushered a coughing boy into his house.

He didn’t like being away from the prince. He didn’t like not knowing where he was or what he was up to. Julius was completely unaware of Taiden’s location or wellbeing. He could have fallen victim to another of Devanna’s attacks for all he knew and he wasn’t there to protect him. The girl Taiden was certain could be trusted – “because The Seer said so” – could have been a murderous psychopath. Julius thought up a million different scenarios in his mind, each more sickening than the last. He was not good when left in his own company. His thoughts were dark and worrisome and he fretted more than ever about the young prince. Left to wander Lyris without proper guidance there was no true way of knowing what mischief he might get up to, and it concerned Julius. He had cared for and trained Taiden since he was a young boy. It felt only natural to fret when they were apart now, wondering if he had done enough to teach the prince to make the right decisions.

Julius had sacrificed a great deal when he made his decision to join the royal guard. His sweetheart grew tired of waiting for him, accusing him of putting her second to the duties he carried out in armour. Eventually she married his friend and had four children with hair as red as the morning sky – just like her own. He had felt his heart break each time he saw them in the Capital’s marketplace, but he kept telling himself he had made the right choice. He knew his place was with the royal guard and he made Lyris history by being the youngest Captain of the Kingdom. Julius was just twenty-three when he took the position and from there he controlled the city guards, the royal guards and soon was teaching the little prince how to wield a blade and protect himself should he ever find himself in battle. He hoped it would never come to that though; it was what he kept so close by for. Julius would lay his life down for Prince Taiden. What he didn’t want to do though was run the length of Lyris on a wild goose chase for healers and dying breeds when he ought to be protecting the prince from his own foolishness.

He had until morning before he could even hope to start closing the distance between himself and the heir of Lyris. Time had never moved more slowly for the Captain of the Guard. He sighed, tossing a single golden coin into the rusty tankard of a beggar man huddled in a doorway and began to walk back through the streets of Gildstrum.
“Thank ye, sir.” Julius grunted a response and frowned up at the town clock, wishing the hands would move faster.
Wasting time was not something Julius was good at, but he was starting to wish he had taken notes when Taiden had slacked off.