PART ONE: Cont'd
The making of mischief:
Xitus tapped his long hideous nails on the mirror laying on top the slab of brick that served as a flat plotting surface. While simultaneously and systematically regarding his fellow monitors. He had hoped this season would not come, especially not during his watch. Now through some strange infringement both unforseen and undetected, plans to usher in his master the fly-lord was growing fragile by the moment. The coming and the reign of the master, was the only way an enemy ingress could be forestalled. The reign of his master, meant his reign also. The promise of eternal power and adulation. Their plans had been airtight and succeded for most part or so they thought. Sometimes, they did not know what to think. Since the opposing kingdom moved like a rushing wind, virtually unseen, unrestrictable and absolutely unstoppable.
As they watched from the mirror, the all too familiar and irate figure could be seen sashaying down the palace hallway in a quest for a melee. Xitus shook his head. Some were made for mischief and reveled in it, others had to be coerced into it and the ones he hated the most, were the ones that pulled away completely. These latter ones were the ones they were really after and the former were always more than wiling to deliver.
Bivus the third monitor stood up. All that could be seen from his hooded face was an oppressive silhouette that seemed to shift as he spoke. "We have our first volunteer ever ready and set to go. We thought they may have retired after their last fatal feat. But the cry for blood has not been quenched...."
They all nodded in assent.
The eyes of the beholder:
The queen struggled to make sense of what her son Amil was saying. Though he was not much of a talker, she knew he would make an incredible communicator someday. But right now it appeared that all he had not said for a long time, he intended to spill to her that very moment. She could not tell if he was saying he wanted a girl's dress or a dress for a girl. For both their lives sake, she hoped he meant the latter. And if he did, then he was developing an amazing imagination. Since there was no girl for her to dress. Nonetheless since she had never seen him so elated and visibly excited, whatever it was would definitely score with her. As she watched his banter with raptness and a heart bursting with love, it was hard to ignore his soil smeared robe, dirt caked face and mud filled finger nails. Maybe this very day, he chose to ride the ground rather than his horse. She was fine with that, it showed her son had passion and she was glad. This was definitely a sight that might easily send the king his father to an early grave. The heir to his throne looking like a runaway peasant the queen mused.
She could have sent for his servant right away to take him for a wash, but she did not. She wanted to savor this first ever scenario of her son really living, really happy. She had always felt that the princely protocols for her son were so restrictive. She wanted him to be free to explore the world he lived in and owned, to explore the vast display of nature beholden to him. Maybe if he had a brother or a sister....
Debeh's entrance interrupted her rueful thoughts. "Your majesty my queen. It is time for the prince to be prepared for his dinner." "Yes indeed!" Agreed the queen with a playful chuckle. "He needs a through clean up I must say." "Tell me Debeh, do you know why the prince speaks of a dress for a girl all of a sudden?" Asked the queen earnestly. "Your majesty my queen," started Debeh somberly. "I beg your forgiveness. One of the slave girls stumbled upon the prince while he was riding his horse and the prince was pleased to amuse her...." The female servant waited, head bowed in dreaded anticipation. "Tell me Debeh," started the queen after what seemed like a deeply contemplative and infinite silence. "How does one stumble on a horse and its rider? Are not the slaves on the farther side of the field?"
Debeh froze... For the third time that day her heart would stop and this time she did not believe it would recover again. That is until she heard Amil's gentle voice.
"I called her mother," stated the often shy and quietly studios prince as two pairs of astonished eyes turned to him. "I saw her and I called her to me." Finished the prince matter-of-factly, while steadily holding his mothers gaze. "Oh..." began the queen, not sure if her voice was still audible. Without turning from her son's imploring face, she ordered her female servant. "Debeh find the girl and bring her to me."
Mind over matter:
Ethia the queen mother had known Methus since he was a child. His father had personally served her husband for thirty years before he died suddenly of a heart failure. His widowed mother and her three children of which Methus was the first became wards of the palace. When his mother died and his two siblings left the palace to marry and fend for themselves, Methus stayed on to serve the king at the time. When he too died of a mysterious illness, Methus remained to serve his son as a general overseer of the palace affairs. He never got married or intended to, he had found his peace in this place.
When the queen mother summoned him to her quarters, he had a familiar sense of foreboding wash all over him. Rumor had it that a summons from the queen mother was almost always a call to danger that everyone dreaded. The queen's reign had been nefarious and deadly to say the least. She snatched nursing babies from their mothers and the infants were never seen again. She was known to have been disruptive of every royal protocol set in place for centuries. And when her husband died, she fought to continue his reign by herself even with the existence of an heir to the throne. That was the one time the people opposed her and re-instated the reigning king, her son.
"You have turned out to be a spitting image of your father Methus," said Ethia with a disparaging smile. A smile that was definitely missed by Methus who had his head bowed. "I trust you are doing just as good a job as he did". "Yes your highness, it is an honor to try to fill his shoes." Replied Methus head still bowed. "Yes," continued Ethia. "Such big shoes they were indeed. If only his life was not cut short by that wicked slave...." Her feigned tone of regret hung menacingly in the air.
"The slave...? Your highness?" Methus sounded confused. "You mean you never knew that your father was poisoned by one of those people from across the river?" Continued the queen stubbornly. "Your highness, my father had a heart failure." "Yes he had a heart failure. But did you ever wonder who failed it? Methus wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he shuffled in discomfort. "The very people he was called to watch over took his life! I had warned him not to be too lenient with them. In the end they did what I had suspected. They destroyed a kind hardworking old man".
"Your highness, I have buried the past whatever the cause may have been." said Methus wearily as he shrugged helplessly. "Yes I believe you have. I also believe we might have to bury you soon along with the past, if you are not careful." Scolded the queen.
"Careful? Your highness...." Asked a still uncertain Methus. "Yes, very careful. In your midst roams a carefree clan that forgets who they are. They will align themselves with you, until they destroy you. Their intent has always been to reign over us, so we must be sure to keep them down and hidden where they belong. Seperate yourself from them, man, woman and child.... At all costs."
"Yes your highness," agreed Methus while bowing out with a newly found resolve.
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