The Red Gulf

Prince Ferdinand’s request to enter the palace before sunrise was denied, so he remained in the cabin of his ship at the docks till eight. To protect himself when he finally had to walk outside to the carriage, he wore a hat with an oversized brim, a bandana covering his face from the nose down, a long poncho and gloves. There was no one at the pier except for guards. The carriages were unbefitting for royalty or any delegate. They creaked, rocked and smelled of mold. He was told it was for security purposes that no one was to know of his presence. There was no escort. He noticed the windows were freshly installed and tinted black. He kept one curtain open.
First time in the kingdom he spent the entire ride utterly repulsed. The sky was a clear blue. The air smelled like a horrible mix of sea and the countryside. There were no factories. No pillars of smoke. Streets and sidewalks were wide for ample room. The city stretched for miles. The only buildings to stand above two stories were churches, hospitals and the palace. He was horrified at the sight of the people. Unlike his own kingdom where there is only one color with a few specks, here there was an unhealthy blend of white, black, red, brown, yellow and mixed. Dwarves, amputees, battle scarred, and other genetic inferiorities were interacting with others like it was perfectly normal. Male waiters serving female customers. Female police talking to males. Unaccompanied civilian females. Several of both sexes were dressed liked the other. Children not on leashes. He closed the curtain in anger at seeing two men hugging and kissing.
In the middle of the city was the palace. A massive complex spanning for miles and penetrating the sky at over forty stories. It exuded raw power and dominance with its sculptures and architecture. He always imagined if one man ruled the world this is what his palace would look like.
The carriage veered away from the main entrance of the palace and stopped in front of the League of Nations, a twelve-sided building and the original site of the Senate. It was closed down four hundred years ago. Ferdinand will be the first foreigner through its doors. Not even Prince Edward from the Empire was given this honor three years ago. There was only one reason he was being given this honor. Ruiz proved his loyalty by passing along the message and Rosales agreed to the terms. This kingdom is welcoming its future king. Half past nine he chugged a fertility potion before exiting the carriage. Once he entered the foyer the massive doors to the outside were closed. At security he removed the hat, bandana, poncho and gloves. He spent five minutes in the lavatory grooming himself.
Doors to the main hall opened and he was taken back by the opulence. Floor tiles were polished white granite. White marble statues depicting truth, justice, liberty and decapitated dogs of war. White columns. White sculptures chiseled into white walls. Even the one hundred-foot arched ceiling was white. The two floors were connected by a white grand staircase in the middle revealing this section was only the entrance. There were traces of yellow gold, but it was never gaudy. The design was simple, which only made it more elegant. It was built to emanate purity, transparency and compared to the world everyone is small and insignificant. For six hundred years, after the Enlightenment, world leaders gathered here to solve international disputes and work towards a better future. Then the Second Global War happened, and the world fractured.
All the windows were shuttered. There was not a sliver of sunlight. Incredibly bright Illumination Seals were on. He had to leave his entourage at security and proceed alone. It was obvious where they wanted him to go. Guards outlined a rug running all the way towards the back of the grand staircase. Inside the tiny stateroom everything was covered in dust tarps except for two couches, a lounge table and a podium with a marble statue. Two lattice windows were open to help disperse the stale air and provide a view of a garden. Due to the design there was no direct sunlight. He sat in the middle of the couch opposite the podium. The marble statue was of a proud naked man throwing a javelin, but its genitals were chiseled off. The surprisingly tasteless intimidation trick didn’t work. He sat back in the couch with legs wide open. There was a decanter set with two glasses on the lounge table and served Madeiran wine. It was made of glass and polished pewter.
There was no ceremony to the regent’s arrival. He stood to be polite. The guards and servants left the stateroom. The doors closed. It was just the two of them.
“No interpreter? Good, we can forgo that ridiculous game.” He sat down. “I used to fantasize what it would be like in here. So many rumors and stories about this palace.” The prince glanced around the filthy room. “Guess imagination is always better than reality.”
“Surprised you arrived on time,” the regent said. “Thought you’d be four hours early.”
“Punctuality is key to good business. Not our fault your people can’t tell time.” He leaned forward with the intent of grabbing a glass. “Glad you didn’t grow up fat and ugly. You had that face back then that could have gone either way.”
The two glasses appeared to be identical. He went to grab one but right before touching it he recoiled. The trim was silver mixed with copper. The other glass had a trim of pewter. He glanced to see if there was a reaction, but her face remained stoic, so he went about as if nothing happened.
“Not going to demand we release your captain?” He smirked, “What’s the point, right?”
“Reparations,” she asked, “are they—”
“Talking about money is so classless,” he interrupted. “Glad you brought it up.” He poured a glass of wine. “My people decided on a reasonable number, three-point-two-million. What with the currency exchange rate, that’s our coin not yours. We can spread out the payments to make it easier. Just add it to the trade tax till you pay us back.”
"You want me to pay you three-point-two million for imprisoning my people for six months," she asked with a straight face.
"They stopped being your people after crossing the border with no visas. We didn't know what was going on. We're accustomed to granting citizenship to only twenty of your people per year. Forty-eight thousand in six months? That's an invasion. We have no military. We had to respond the way we did. What choice did we have?"
Again, she said with a straight face, "They were going to the Borini Continental. They were never on your land. You could have let them pass and embrace the liberty that everyone has the inalienable right to live wherever they choose."
"No," he was quick to respond, "they don't. That’s the whole point of visas, citizenship, and border checks. Little mad we only caught thirty-one thousand. No telling how the other realms are handling it. You don’t even know where the rest are, do you?” He made a noise of satisfaction as he drank from the glass and admired the contents. “How does an unsophisticated and savage land produce such an elegant wine. Guess that is the unsolvable puzzle. You took them back. You get the bill for their housing, feeding, sanitation requirements and healthcare. The total price is eight million, but we decided not to charge you for renting the ranch. It’s a bargain. We’re taking a loss.”
The stale air was finally dissipating and replaced with the fresh scent of the garden.
“If you refuse to pay, my prime minister will impose sanctions and halt all trade between our two kingdoms until you do. Our love for your wine is not enough to overlook this slight.”
“No request to lower the barrier?”
“No, we’re happy you raised it. In fact, we want it to stay up. Keep the garbage where it belongs. It’s why I’m here. We all know, as it stands now, your kingdom will bow under the weight of the Senate’s demands. Even King Aaron, whom I respect, would buckle. After everything you’ve done to repel the Empire, what little you could, is this really how you want it to end?”
“Am I to believe your kingdom is plotting against its greatest ally and the Senate?”
“Alliance is not ownership. It’s a lot of politics. Too complicated for a—” he swallowed to stop himself from completing the sentence. “It’s not your fault for not understanding. It’s too much responsibility for one such as yourself. It’s my fault for not coming sooner. That’s on me. You shouldn’t have to worry about that.”
The regent’s face remained stoic, never revealing an emotion.
The prince sat up on the edge of the couch to pour another glass of wine, “Now, I am not blind to your kingdom’s financial state. We will forgive all debts and agree to free trade if you tear down the land bridge and reopen the Greenbriar Canal. By reconnecting the two hemispheres our gulf will once again be the center of world trade. Attracting all manner of businesses. Property taxes alone.” He closed his eyes, pressed his lips together and made a small noise while tilting his head becoming aroused at the prospect of drastically increasing profit.
The regent noticed the decanter was already half empty. She never partook.
“It’s inside your barrier, everyone will want to use it, you can charge a toll. Pay off all your foreign debt in a year.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis. “Our economies will grow fat. You can even buy a surplus of food from Angoria and give your people more than they can ever eat in a lifetime. Healing Waters can build factories on your side, retail and others will be on ours.”
“You’re doing all this to secure a business deal with a company?”
“It’s not just any company. Healing Waters is an international multi-trillion conglomerate. For cheap labor, they go to dystopian realms destroyed by war or natural disasters. When labor costs get too high, they go to the next devastated land, leaving behind a thriving stable metropolis.”
“Ah,” the regent said with a nod to convey she understood.
“This is what I and others don’t understand: is why you keep asking for humanitarian aid. You don’t need the Senate or the Empire.” He glanced down at her lower abdomen. “If you open your canal your kingdom will go from dead to thriving. Healing Waters is desperate to build a new permanent distribution center. We,” he motioned to them both, “can demand anything.”
“If it’s so important,” she asked with a straight face, “why not build a canal of your own?”
He studied her stoic expression for a second. “You’re afraid you can’t do it. Politics too complicated? Can’t control your nobles? Too much responsibility? It’s okay. I understand. It’s difficult without a husband around helping to make decisions. And clearly, your Lord Chancellor is failing as a man. We’ll settle for just restoring the ocean currents. Surely, even you can do what your father did but in reverse.”
Elaina kept a straight face. She was sitting at the end of the couch adjacent to the one the guest was using. Her legs were together, and she kept her right hand across her lap like a proper lady but was slowly tapping her left fingers on the arm of the couch. Her hair was down and beautiful, but he didn’t like how she only wore simple eye makeup and plain lipstick. From the neck down she was covered in dark navy blue with a dress, long sleeve jacket and solid but nylon thin gloves. For a royal, the design of her jewelry was incredibly simplistic, which only added to the elegance. A necklace and belt made of white gold and encrusted with small white sapphires.
Middle of spring several flowers in the garden were beginning to bloom. The only noise was from their conversation.
“Yes,” he said, “my people were furious when the ocean currents suddenly changed, devastating our fisheries, bringing violent whales right to the gulf and making hurricane season infinitely worse.”
Both his arms were stretched along the back of the couch as he swirled the glass of wine haphazardly. At any moment it could spill and stain the ancient fabric. His hair was shiny from gel. He wore bright clothing. The large chain of his office bore the Dugall royal insignia and was made of real yellow gold encrusted with rubies and blue sapphires. He wore seven gaudy rings, four on his right hand and three on his left. His hands were well moisturized but thick from hard labor. It was well known every summer he would spend one month working in a factory, mine, fishery or any physically demanding job of the common people. To not embarrass himself during the one month of hard labor he kept himself in peak physical condition.
“I don’t blame your father. A true king will do anything for his people. Even make a great personal sacrifice like marrying someone they find grotesque. But it’s been forty years. There’s a universal belief when a person makes a mistake it’s their responsibility to correct it. Would you not agree? Now, I want to stress no matter what happens, the canal and ocean currents will always be on the table. That’s one less worry line for you.”
The regent didn’t want to but needed to say something, “The Conclave—”
“Will argue about the dangers of changing the climate,” he interrupted. “Yes, I know all about elementals. They love to spout that nonsense. Any excuse not to use their enigmatic gifts. They’re not lazy. Don’t get me wrong. They’re industrious workers. But intellectuals don’t like to be told what to do.” Ferdinand sat back in the couch with legs wide open. “Takes a strong man to make Conclaves obey. It’s not your fault they don’t respect you. You simply lack the ability to be as strong as your father. It’s why I’m here.”
“What do you mean,” she asked with piqued interest for the first time.
“Well, in not so many words Rosales and I had an understanding. You suck my cock now and I forget this whole mess. Grant me crown matrimonial and I’ll save your kingdom.”
“And you have that power?”
He smiled with pride, “Why yes I do. Thank you for noticing. I’m quite the powerful man. That’s, um, good wifing right there,” he winked. “A united gulf will be an economic powerhouse on the world stage.”
The regent calmly asked with a straight face, “You think an illegitimate nonroyal is suitable for marriage to me, the regent and heir to the throne?”
“Let me guess, you think your cunt’s worthy enough for my brother, Charles?” He laughed. “I mean, yeah sure, he’ll probably have his fun after I break you in.”
“So, all of this was a waste of time,” again she asked without revealing an emotion.
He laughed. “Come on. Why else bring me through the back way into part of the palace that hasn’t been used in four centuries and into a room outfitted so we, uh, don’t leave stains? Why else are we alone? No servants. No guards.” Wine drippled down the corners of his mouth as he took a large gulp. He gestured to the statue. “Is that not a message your kingdom has no cock and you want mine?” He placed the glass of wine down on the lounge table, wiped his mouth with a hand and rubbed it on his pants. “Why else would you wait till the day you’re most fertile to engage in ‘talks’?”
The regent’s straight face did not break. The crass speech and constant insults meant nothing neither did the reveal of a foreign government admitting to having spies in the palace.
“You’re desperate for an heir.” He stretched back into the couch while raising his left hip to readjust. “I’ll impregnate you today. We wait two weeks for confirmation and have a quick wedding. When I’m king, I’ll get the place running right. First thing I’ll do is turn this building into a tourist attraction. Honestly, your whole kingdom is a historical site. Entire economy can thrive on tourism alone. Are the springs still there in the snowy Ridge Mountains? Get some lodges up there and build a rail from here to there. And that whole thing with the Empire, I’ll end it. You’re not the only kingdom to use land as collateral for loans. You can spend all day denying it, but you got what three or four years left before defaulting? Instead of debt I’d change it so that they just bought the land, let them build on it and bring their people in.”
She continued to look at him.
“I know what you’re going to say. Don’t worry. I have proven fertility. Fathered Charles’ two sons.”
The regent casually glanced out the window. Ferdinand glanced to where she was looking. There was an inordinate number of blue jays and cardinals in the garden. The two species of fowl were the sigils of their kingdoms.
“If that’s not a sign of Divine approval, then I don’t know what is,” he chuckled.
She looked at the prince and back at the garden. She gave a quick smile as one does in awkward situations and stood to calmly walk behind the couch to the tarp covered chest of drawers where there was another decanter set serving water. She purposefully kept her back to him while pouring herself a glass of water.
The fertility potion was in full effect and as far as he could tell she submitted. Now was the time. He quickly put the glass of wine down, unfastened his pants and pulled out the stiff member.
“So, we’re doing this,” he asked.
She turned around and gagged on the water. “What is that,” she exclaimed.
“I know you’re a virgin but you’re not an idiot.”
Prince Ferdinand sat with arms stretched over the couch and legs wide open proudly displaying the naked member standing erect. There was a pulsing purple vein along the shaft from overdosing.
“What’s wrong with it,” she asked trying to stop her lip from curling in disgust.
“Oh,” he chuckled with pride. “Never seen one so erect before, have you?” He raised his hips again to readjust. “Either you come to me or I come to you.”
The corners of her mouth were trembling as she could no longer hold back the laughter. “Why is it so small,” she burst out laughing. “Thought they’re proportional to body size but it’s so…so,” she took a deep breath to calm down. “It’s so tiny,” she broke out into laughter again.
Try as she might she could not finish a sentence. The sincerity of emotion that she found the prince to be a subject of ridicule only served to stoke his rage. The couch legs screeched across the floor as he stood and hurriedly fastened his trousers. His brow furrowed, his eyes widened, nostrils flared, and lips pulled back to show teeth. He was seething with rage.
“You stupid cunt. If you cared at all about your people, you’d take this deal.”
“Your face is turning so red,” she snorted from laughing so hard.
“Few days you’re going to be begging to be my bitch just so I’ll call off the Senate.”
She tried regaining composure. “Suppose that did happen. Do you honestly believe you’ll be backing in the adulations of the Empire for succeeding where they failed in getting me to submit? They will destroy you. You should be grateful. My kingdom is once again saving your tiny realm from making yet another disastrous mistake. Oops, I said ‘tiny’.” She started laughing again.
“Undisciplined woman.” Ferdinand moved to strike. “I’ll teach you manners.”
He suddenly stopped three feet from her with his backhand in midair poised to strike. She didn’t even flinch but kept laughing hysterically and started holding onto the back of the couch for balance. Instead of white gold, like he believed, her necklace and belt were pure silver. She stopped laughing and suddenly stepped forward, which caused him to simultaneously step back. She stared into his eyes and intentionally laughed in a mocking tone. He snarled, briefly showing his fangs and stomped out of the stateroom.
High ranking officials filled the room and seconds later he heard them laughing at his expense. Windows remained shuttered. He hurriedly walked across the grand hall on the rug through the row of security guards. He saw one on his left touch his ear and began laughing. The one to the right touched her ear and started laughing. Information was moving like a ripple as he past them.
Inside the stateroom the regent was trying to regale them of the conversation but couldn’t stop laughing. It was his arrogance she found hilarious. Ferdinand revealed he knew her fertility cycle, meaning he has spies in the palace. By the way he spoke about the snow resort, rail and tourism he confessed his family was the silent backer in the Hardin Rebellion last year. The canal and the business with Healing Waters was a ruse, which she could not mention to the chancellors because the rare solidarity would shatter as they’d scramble towards false hope. She held her palms to display the prince’s small stature. Both men and women in the room exchanged quizzical expressions.
Penny, from Security Team Nine of Morning Shift, covered her mouth and asked in a whisper, “Isn’t that about average?”
“Uh, y-yeah,” Lucas, also from Team Nine, answered in a whisper. “Half a foot is, us, yeah definitely…average.”
“Dugall believes in the superiority of the masculine.” Lord Chancellor Talus warned. “There will be consequences for humiliating his manhood in this manner.”
Chancellor Rayne waved her fingers in a spooky manner and said, “Ooh, so scary.”
General Fields was looking down, her eyes darting back and forth a few seconds before she snapped her fingers. “Why did he leave? You remember yesterday? That bastard was sent here to be killed to justify the invasion in case the Senate backs down at the last second. He had the perfect opportunity. So, why did—”
“No witnesses,” Reginald, Captain of the Royal Guard, interrupted.
“Shit.”
Everyone was scrambling at the realization, “Get to the docks…Alert the guards…Don’t let him anywhere near his ship…Think it’s rigged to explode…Treaty forbids…We can’t inspect…But they’ll blame it on us…Contact the admiral…Get that bastard on one of our ships to take him back…”
The regent merely watched the panic with a bemused smile while sipping water after regaining full composure. Three chancellors and Commander Richard quickly left to chase down Ferdinand. The four should carry enough political clout to prevent the prince and his entourage from creating a scene.
The regent waited for the first lull in the conversation to reveal, “Dugall is demanding we pay them three million in their currency and will stop all trade until we do.”
“Three in their—that’s like a hundred million in ours.”
Chancellor Wallace said, “That,” shook his head, “doesn’t math.”
“Fine, but it’s a lot.”
“But not that much.”
“How are we paying this…We can’t…Can always ask Viceroy Ling…Yeah, I mean, why not her province will be effected more than…She doesn’t have it, none of the nobles have that much just lying around anymore…Raise taxes…Yeah, that’ll go over real well…There’s the Hardin Fortune…”
Wayne, Chancellor of the Treasury and lifelong accountant, was in the back and holding up his hand but no one called on him.
“We’re not paying it,” the regent declared. “Even if we had the money.”
“Your highness, all due respect, but we cannot lose trade with Dugall,” Chancellor Wallace said. “They make up the bulk of our economy. All the businesses that depend on that trade will go bankrupt and the businesses that depend on those businesses will close and the employees…the ripple effect will destroy us.”
“Instead of three million this could cost us billions. Or did I fail your precious math again?”
“No, no, you got it.”
“You price your dignity at three million,” Fields asked. “Didn’t realize you were so cheap.”
Chancellor Wayne was waving his hand and clearing his throat until the regent finally looked at him. Several rolled their eyes and shook their heads.
Chancellor Moore turned around and jumped a little at the sight. “Where the fuck did you come from,” he asked.
“I…I’ve been with you all, all day.” Wayne looked genuinely hurt by the question.
Moore glanced away and then back at Wayne a few times before sidestepping to the left.
When prompted to speak, Wayne spoke up, “It’s…it’s a bluff, your maj—highness. They stop trade, we stop providing them free healthcare.”
“‘Free’,” Chancellor Wallace asked. “Nothing’s free about it. We charge them.”
“Charge cosmetic health, nothing else. Reports I give you to work with are fake.”
“‘Fake’? I negotiate tariffs off those reports. Are you—”
“Shut up,” Chancellor Moore interrupted. “I do believe he would not admit to a crime that carries a twenty-year prison sentence without just cause.”
“Not a crime if it’s by order of the King.” Chancellor Wayne looked directly at the regent. “Dugall doesn’t regulate pollution and their healing magic is embarrassing. Populists wanted reformation, stronger unions, healthcare like ours and working conditions like Candala. Centralists wanted to stay the same. Growing more polarized than ever. Civil war would’ve devalued their currency, which would’ve brought ours down even further. Drops of blood were spilling.” He was talking extremely fast as if scared someone would stop him. “Deal was struck to stop them whining about the ocean currents, to secure a permanent trade agreement and guarantee tariffs never go over ten percent. It’s why their life expectancy went from fifty to eighty without changing anything.”
“What, tariffs never go past ten percent because of my negotiating skills.”
“Any of this was true, Rosales would have told us yesterday,” Lord Chancellor Talus said. “Or are you calling him a traitor?”
“He doesn’t know. No one does.” He stared at the floor and swayed a little. “Deal was made between monarchs to stop the blood from reaching the streets. Outwardly, Dugall is strong but internally strife with political turmoil.”
“Where is Rosales? He should be here.”
“Their monarchs are just figureheads. They don’t have the power to—”
“Royalty makes deals like this all the time. Only myself and the Council elders knew.”
“Real convenient neither King nor Council are here to confirm it.”
“I am no liar.”
“You just admitted to faking reports.”
“Wait, wait, wait. If that’s true, why send that bastard to be killed? I’d completely forgotten we give them healthcare. Free or not if we’re at war they’d lose it and have to buy holy magic from someone else. Compared to ours, the Empire’s sucks. Ferdinand has no royal blood but was legitimatized to show their monarchs are breaking the deal. Come on, if Ambassador Ruiz or anyone else threatened to stop trade we wouldn’t take it serious.”
“Credibility,” General Fields said. “They’ve been fangless for years. Maybe it’s a bluff, maybe it’s real. Doesn’t matter. You first commit an atrocity to make your next threat credible. It’s a standard tactic. One I hate—”
“Because you always fall for it,” Director Circio interrupted. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to remind everyone why you’re here and not with the King.”
General Fields stepped forward and tightened a fist while staring him down. “I will not be blamed for the decisions of my predecessors,” she growled. The general stepped back, raised her chin and glanced at the regent. “Is calling their bluff even an option? Would the Council agree to it? I know from personal experience on the frontlines how hard it is pulling holy mages from their patients.”
“You’re from artillery,” Director Circio snapped. “You were never on the frontlines.”
“Enough,” the regent said with a commanding voice. “Chancellor Wayne, thank you for having the courage to bring forward this information. It has certainly put things in a better perspective.”
Lord Chancellor Talus said, “A decision of this magnitude that will affect the entire kingdom cannot be made by just us here in this room. It must be brought before the entire Board of Chancellors where we can hold a true discussion.”
“You may inform the board we are not paying,” the regent said. “If Dugall stops trade, so be it. I will order the Council to withdraw our holy mages.”
“Your highness,” General Fields said, glancing at the director. “If Charles and Ferdinand really are staging a coup to takeover then denying Dugall healing magic is exactly what they want. Blaming the prime minister, parliament and the ineffectual current monarchs. It would speed things along.”
“It is not our place to get involved in their civil war. We must first look to ourselves. We will not beg for trade or grovel or sacrifice our dignity.”
Everyone was dismissed to prepare for the meeting with Senate Chairman Niles at two in the afternoon. The royal guards, recognizing the regent’s small gesture, also vacated the room leaving her alone with Director Circio.
“You stayed suspiciously quiet during that panic,” the regent said refilling the glass of water. “Some might believe you already knew Ferdinand’s ship was filled with explosives.”
Circio smiled. “Just as you stayed quiet about the Greenbriar Canal and a marriage that would’ve saved the realm?” He tapped his left ear to indicate he had bugged the room and was listening to everything while carrying on a conversation with the chancellors outside in the hall. “Some might think you don’t want the others learning there’s a peaceful alternative to war.”
“Wouldn’t that be a shame?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he smiled.
“So, Ambassador Rosales is…”
“He left early this morning.”
“There’s no going back is there?”
“I can always blow up the boat.”
She smiled. “And our captain?”
“Free as of two this morning. They’re coming in through the neutral land so it’s going to take a few days.”
“I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday.”
“Oh, it’s fine. I completely understand. It was a shock.”
“I really would like to talk to the Inquisitor assigned to Dugall, wherever you’ve hidden him.”
“Highness, I wasn’t lying to the chancellor. Failures get acid baths.”
The regent could no longer deny the truth that remnants of the forbidden Chaos Domain had survived the Domain War and became the Department of Central Intelligence. Like her father, King Aaron, it’s her responsibility to keep that truth hidden. Moments like these is when she wonders if Circio, by indulging his sadism, is turning into a demon, which could explain why he always bulky clothes and gloves no matter the weather.
“I know the whole truth about your department,” she admitted.
“Oh, really,” his face and voice suddenly became menacing.
“I know how father took away your department’s freewill. It wasn’t crown magic like we thought. It was a Chaos spell, but he used royal magic to cast. All that’s needed is for me to cast a Holy Dispel powered by royal magic. It’s a simple solution but I’m not powerful enough. Is there somewhere in the palace or kingdom I can train? My Holy will never be greater than my father’s Chaos, but I can surpass him in royal magic and break that spell.”
“Oracle Chamber, highest point in the palace. You can train without fear of hurting people.”
“Good. Just in case training causes the same coma effect, I’ll wait till we know for certain if the Senate will invade or not.”
He leaned on the chest of drawers on an elbow, interlocking his fingers, and asked with a softer tone, “Are you feeling okay?”
This is the first time he’s ever expressed concern for her safety and that includes the many assassination attempts where she came within moments of dying. “Yes,” she replied.
“That type of surgery, you shouldn’t be capable of getting out of bed for another month.”
When Director Circio left the stateroom, only five minutes after everyone else was dismissed, he tracked down General Fields. The two entered an empty room.
“We agreed you’d shut your mouth around her,” Circio growled.
“I remember you screaming like a stuck pig and me listening but no I agreed to nothing.”
He instantly slammed her up against the wall pressing his forearm into her neck. His brown eyes turned red as hers turned gold. “I will not allow cowardice to infect our last chance—”
“See you’re still mad I chose Richard over you,” she laughed. “How many times do you want me to say it? Letting him go off with the army was a safe deterrent. Better than all of us dying trying to assassinate him. How was Richard supposed to know the King would do the draft? If you had backed down like the rest of us, you’d still have your free—”
He pressed further into her neck. “You murdered three hundred thousand prisoners of war.”
“And you’re a torturer. Who’s done worse things than all the war criminals put together. First big case you exposed General McLaren. Don’t tell me after fifty years you’re still mad you didn’t get all his officers? Am I the one that got away,” she smiled, “with a king’s pardon?”
Meanwhile, the regent was talking with the Lord Chamberlain and a few members of his staff at the bottom of the grand staircase. The regent loved doting on servants for a job well done compared to her father who would never acknowledge their existence. It was the easiest way to cultivate loyalty without having to actually work for it. She went on for a few minutes making it seem their creative choice to display the mutilated Statue of Oram played a key part in undermining the prince’s confidence. The Lord Chamberlain and his staff were beaming with pride from the many compliments.
“Is it possible to serve the wine he didn’t drink to the Chairman,” it was a question, but her tone made it an order. “Not the bottle,” she clarified. “The decanter.”
“Highness, we took full steps to ensure the prince would taste the wine at its peak flavor. I was informed Chairman Niles is a world-renowned master sommelier. A wine left out for that long will taste foul on such a sophisticated palate.”
“I want it to taste foul.”
Being ordered to deliberately provide terrible service is not sitting well with him especially since there haven’t been foreign delegates in three years. “Your highness, the Madeiran bottle I chose is from the most superb vineyard, the most elegant of wines. Count Elwood personally sent a case to gift the Chairman.”
She didn’t know but pretended otherwise. “The Count is certainly a generous man. But we’re going to confiscate that case.”
“It’s tradition!” His eyes widened at his own outburst and immediately bowed his head while looking directly down at the floor, “Deepest apologies, your highness, I should never question—”
“No, no, it’s okay. I value blunt honestly, encourage it even.”
It’s been five years, but people still occasionally snap into the brow beaten abuse victim they were when the King was in the realm.
“It’s expected we try and impress her with our finest wine that has won multiple world competitions. Under different circumstances, if they weren’t threatening us with invasion, your unparalleled skills in hospitality could shine. Bluffs will need to be called. All manner of things could happen. That case could be the last to leave our kingdom for a long time or maybe our wine trade will grow in these talks. The Chairman’s personal greed could outweigh political interests. The more rare those bottles become, the higher their value. No one should make a fortune off our situation.”
Due to how adamant he was, she needed to explain to prevent the technicality of the case being confiscated but the Chairman leaving with individual bottles. King Aaron used to tell her to stop being so familiar with the servants but moments like this proves him wrong. If she hadn’t taken the time to thank the Lord Chamberlain, she never would have learned Count Peter Elwood is a traitor.
After Commander Richard left the stateroom with three other chancellors, he sent Deputy Commander Vincent to stop Prince Ferdinand from boarding his own vessel. “We need to talk.”
She snaps, “I have an invasion to stop. I don’t have time to…” She pressed her left temple, barely shook her head and asked with a more relaxed tone, “What do you want?”
“Wait, what? We just agreed yesterday the invasion needs to happen.”
She exhaled, “I don’t know what happens at the end of the twenty years when the barrier breaks, do you? Our current barrier is from the original barrier from the original relic. We’re only working with half a relic. It may not even have the capacity to create a new bloodline of royal magic. Survivors will be at the mercy of whoever’s been sharpening their knives. I will cast that spell but only after every other option has been exhausted. I will not leave my people defenseless!”
His lips tightened out of anger but had to move on, “My department has discovered new evidence in the bombing of the market. We bugged Representative Nahstrum’s office. Conversations with his deputy were inflammatory. He was ordering a Caden which explosive thread to use, Blue Odyssey or Purple Shimmer. He ordered Caden nobility to assassinate you. That’s how he got them to change their vote because they thought you’d be dead.”
This is infuriating. Chancellor of Justice Moore, Director of Central Intelligence Circio and Chosen Commander Richard have all told her multiple times how for fifty years King Aaron would shut down every investigation. For fifty years the people were forced to exchange liberty for safety except without any justice. It’s been five years; the Commander of the Bureau of Criminal Investigation should not have to be told to do his job. This is why Circio is conducting an Inquisition.
“Did you get a warrant signed by Moore to bug his office? Purple Shimmer would have obliterated the market, me included. At least that’s what Reginald told me. So, I’d say no, he wasn’t or maybe he’s color blind,” she smiled. “Until the moment he sticks a knife in my stomach with his own hand, I will never doubt Nahstrum’s loyalty.”
He stepped within inches and grabbed her arm, “You need to take this seriously. Your pet rat tried to kill you. We have recordings with audio of him personally torturing Lord Royce Elwood and his pregnant wife to change their vote in the House. He had a full discussion with Chancellor Wayne orchestrating a coup with Talus taking over. Wayne is not the stuttering weak accountant that’s been stuck in a windowless office his whole life. It’s a fake persona.”
She kept staring at his grip and slowly said with a harsh authoritative tone, “Remove your hand,” she looked him in the eyes, “or you’ll lose an arm.”
He let go. His eyes went wide. “You’ve never threatened—”
“I’ll watch the recordings,” she interrupted and then walked away to prepare for the meeting.