Lutti and Beni wave goodbye and disappear back down the way we came. Left with nothing else to do, I sit on my basket of laundry and wait. Seconds stretch into minutes, the only movement is the flickering of the nearby lamp, the shadows bouncing softly. Every so often I get up and peek out the peephole in the door. Finally, I hear the creak of a door and chattering voices. I jump to my feet, my sluggish boredom replaced with adrenaline. They are finally out of the meeting. I watch through the tiny hole in the door as first the King, and then his favored advisors and lords pass by. Seemingly endless parades of dwarves in fine, brightly colored fabrics parade past before I hear a door creak, and then shut with an almost imperceptible click. And then Yaluda appears, looking more tired than I’ve ever seen him.

His eyes are dull as he trails behind the King’s procession, his expression hinting that his mind is far away, and unsatisfied with something. Did he not like the outcome of the council meeting? Something inside me itches to burst out of my hiding place right then, to go and comfort him and talk about whatever is bugging him. I suppress it, waiting till he’s past my door to slip out and follow him, abandoning the basket of laundry.

I’m not the least bit stealthy, but I’m not trying to be. Why should a servant have to be stealthy after all? Instead I try to look purposeful as I sidle up next to Yaluda and tap him lightly on the shoulder.

Obviously startled at being disturbed from his musings, he straightens a little and turns to look at me. His golden eyes widen, and his lips form a perfect O as he immediately recognizes me.

“Bal–!” He starts, and then hesitates, glancing in front of us at the tail end of the procession of ministers. They’re already quite a few paces ahead and talking loudly, but it is clear Yaluda doesn’t want to take any chances.

“What do you think you’re doing here?!” He hisses. “You’ll be killed if you’re caught!”

“I kinda need your help.” I reply quietly. “Smedigan–, erm. Blix, snuck me out, but we both forgot tower servants have a different uniform than normal footmen. Basically, I need your help getting back to your study.”

Yaluda glances between me and the group in front of us. The nobles have all nearly rounded the corner ahead, either not realizing or just not caring that their Prince got held up by a suspiciously familiar looking servant. The prince in question flicks his attention back to me, and grabs my hand, quickly pulling me in the opposite direction.

His hands are distractingly soft, a sharp contrast to my rough ones. I suddenly realize again what different worlds we’re from. He’s probably never had to hoe a field in his life, much less push a plow. Likely the most strenuous thing he’s ever experienced has been sword drills, enough to train him but not enough to cause any callouses.

Yaluda shatters my musings by yanking me back into the room they were using for meetings just a few minutes ago. I have only half a second to take in my surroundings before he shoves me into a padded armchair and plops down in the one next to me.

“Blix put you up to this? I swear I’m going to kill that idiot someday!” he exclaims combing a hand through his loose long hair.

“Don’t blame him!” I quickly break in. “I was the one who suggested it, he was quite difficult to convince and only helped by procuring the uniform.” I fidget my hands self-consciously, even to me they feel rough. “Everything turned out fine, nobody noticed me and I got some interesting information out of spying like this. There was a man– probably a noble of horse joar –who confirmed your guard has a spy in it!”

Yaluda frowns, “The confirmation is good, but it’s not like we didn’t suspect that much before. What’s more important, are you completely sure no one noticed you?”

I can’t quite meet his eyes. “I wasn’t noticed really, not by anyone who’d wish me harm –so now all that’s left is to get me back to the tower so I can tell the group all the other things I overheard.” I finish, placatingly.

Yaluda’s frown doesn’t abate. “What do you mean ‘not by anybody who’d wish me harm’? Who exactly found you out?”

“Well, Blix said…” I explain how I ran into Beni and Lutti, and how they helped me out. “They seem like a rather nice pair, why did you cut them off so suddenly?”

Yaluda sighs, “It’s complicated.” He begins, looking uncomfortable.”

“If you don’t want to explain–” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“No, I should at least give you some sort of explanation. You deserve that much. After the failed attempt on my life, I was more than a little shocked. I no longer felt safe with anyone because I knew that, for them to get so close to me– into my very chambers! –without any of my spies hearing whispers in advance that something was going to happen, it meant someone had betrayed me.

“For over a week I cut off contact with everyone. I just stayed in my room and considered and reconsidered every action that I, that my friends, had taken over the last month. I only went out when it was strictly necessary. I was so reclusive that for the first couple of days, rumors went around that the assassination attempt had suceeded.” Yaluda’s face is twisted with some dark emotion I can’t quite name as he recollects that time. I can easily imagine him sitting quietly in his darkened study spending hours just staring into nothing, a cold, flat expression on his face as he tries to figure out what went wrong.

“That must have been a very difficult time for you.” I say gently. Yaluda blinks, as if suddenly remembering I’m there again.

“It was.” He admits. “Blix was the one who broke me out of it. He got me going again. After that, I cut down the number of people I trust significantly. Tell me, did Benkint and Lutti ever explain their reasoning for helping me to you?”

I think back to my conversation with them. “Not really.”

“Their motivator was excitement. Yes we were friends, and they believed in the same ideals I did, but when I first brought them in on my plans–” Yaluda lips flatten as he presses them together tightly, he looks like he just bit into something sour, and I realize this probably isn’t a pleasant memory for him. “Their reactions were,” He continues “instead of shock or worry, delight. Beni said, and I quote ‘ That’s so cool. It’s just like a story.’” Although it’s clear Beni had probably said the words excitedly, Yaluda says them flatly. No emotion, his face carefully expressionless. “When a person’s main reason for helping me is excitement, being on ‘the moral high ground’ is just a bonus. Who’s to say a better bonus won’t tempt them away? Or, when excitement turns to fear, if their families are under threat, when they could lose everything if they continue to take my side? I can’t risk widening my circle with people who aren’t as deeply invested as me. Excitement can be gotten in a rebellion, but it can just as easily be found as a double agent for my enemies.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“You really think they’d switch sides like that?” I ask doubtfully.

“If they’re families’ are at risk? Who knows?” Yaluda chuckles sourly.

“Wouldn’t you? Weren’t you guys close friends?” I press.

“Friends, yes. Close, not really.” Yaluda replies “It's hard to find people you can safely rely on here. Most of my better friends I’ve found have been from lower social standing and when I wasn’t looking for friends.”

“Well, there’s a lot more of us to choose from.” I joke. Yaluda takes me seriously though.

“Yes, the variety definitely helps. It’s easier to find good people when there’s more to choose from.”

We’re silent for a few seconds, staring around the large oval table surrounded by chairs and a throne at the head. Behind the throne are two massive pillars with long banners hanging from the ceiling all the way to the floor. In between the pillars is a window of colored glass drawing out the symbol of the royal family, the crown over the crossed spears, in a brilliant gold.

“Did you know,” Yaluda begins, staring at the window with me. “Blix was actually from the lower classes?”

“”No.” I answer, surprised. “I didn’t, how did he end up becoming your bodyguard?”

“It’s a rather funny story actually. It almost sounds like something out of the legends. He started as a stable boy who enjoyed watching the young nobles and squires spar, but he’d never carried anything more dangerous than a hot poker. Sometimes, if he was truly lucky, he’d be able to prepare the prince and princesses’ horses for an outing. Of course, he ever actually saw them in person, preparing their horses was the most exciting his life got.” Yaluda pauses.

“Until…” I prompt him, amused that he’s telling the story in third person.

“Until,” Yaluda continues, smiling briefly at me. “He met a strangely dressed servant boy who was determined to go to the city. He wouldn’t say why, or who– if anyone –was sending him. He just wanted to go, and for some reason he thought Blix would let him take a pony with him.”

I chuckled, seeing where this was going. “Of course.” Yaluda adds “Blix, being a good stable lad, refused. Next, the strangely clothed kid tried to bribe him, offering gold that was clearly too much for a simple servant boy to have. Blix refused again, and this time attempted to call out to a nearby guardsman so he could catch what was clearly a thief.

“The boy, completely freaked out by the idea of the guards coming to get him, jumped Blix, trying to fight him and knock him out. The two tussled, rolling around in the hay and spooking horses left and right while trading punches. In the end though, Blix was clearly the winner. The strangely clad boy had a broken nose, one of his eyes was swollen shut, and he was black and blue pretty much everywhere. Straddling him to make sure he didn’t escape, Blix called out for the guard.

“Triumphantly he presented his catch to the man who came running, and he was completely astonished when the guard clapped handcuffs on him instead. The next thing he knew, he was in jail awaiting his execution. Nobody even bothered to tell him why. However the reason behind it became rather obvious, when, a few days later, he was led into the execution pit in the castle grounds and he looked up at the royal box and saw the prince’s bandaged face. One of his eyes was still swollen shut, and he had a cold compress on his nose. At that point, Blix lost all hope of surviving. No one ever survived after assaulting a member of the royal family. Right before his head went on the chopping block, a clear commanding voice spoke out.

“‘Wait.’ it said. ‘Father, I would like to spend my yearly pardon on this boy.’

‘What?’ a second, deeper voice responded incredulously ‘What nonsense is this? He attacked you, a member of the royal family. The punishment for that should be death.’” I chuckle as Yaluda mimics the King's pompous voice. His face miming the emotions of the characters. He hesitates, and shoots another grin at me, breaking character for a moment before diving back into his story weaving.

“‘I agree with you, Father, however, he never realized he was attacking nobility, much less royalty. After all, I was in the guise of a servant. In the worst scenario, he probably thought I was at his own station of life. In the best scenario, he thought I was a thief or even an assassin making my escape and was trying to do his duty.’ The prince protested.

‘Regardless of intent, he injured a member of the royal family, he cannot go unpunished.’ The King countered. At that moment Blix looked up and his desperate eyes met the uninjured eye of the prince who smiled at him.

‘Of course.’ the prince agreed, ‘however, I suggest a severely reduced sentence. Have him become a semi-permanent squire to the worst knight you have– Sir Wogen. You know, the one whose squires keep leaving out of exhaustion and who has never yet declared any of his students ready for knighthood.’

‘What!’ the King exclaimed. ‘You know knighthood is the path to becoming a General in the army. Only nobles can become squires! You want a stable lad to achieve this honor!’

‘You think any noble would find slaving away under Sir Wogen’s training, always at his beck and call, an honor? If this young man can handle that for years on end, if he can actually manage to complete Sir Wogens’ training regime, he is more than deserving of knighthood!’ the Prince argued. The King however, remained unmoved.

‘Knighthood is for nobles, not stable boys.’ he claimed.

‘Not even for honest, hardworking, and just plain talented ones?’ The Prince asked. ‘Father, you know how long I’ve been in personal training. I’ve learned plenty of fancy unarmed combat tricks, yet he managed to beat me with no weapons, no practice, just talent. Nor did he budge on giving me the horse when I offered him more money than he earns in three years.’

‘You tried to bribe him?!’ The King exclaimed. Blix couldn’t tell if he was shocked, furious, or both. But the prince only shrugged.

“Doesn’t really matter.’ he claimed ‘what matters is, he rejected me instantly, and tried to call the guard. That’s when I jumped him. Really,’ he added on thoughtfully ‘It should be said that I assaulted him, since I started it. I thought he’d be easy to overpower and I could get out for my excursion with no further delay.’”

I chuckle again, Yaluda is a great storyteller. “You admitted it just like that?” I ask, grinning.

“Well, it wasn’t like I was going to get in trouble.” Yaluda says grinning “everyone except Blix knew that I snuck out a lot in my own.” he does the little finger quotes again “‘disguises’ I’m pretty sure the watchmen were specifically instructed to ignore me. Of course as a child I had no idea of that.”

“How old were you?” I ask.

“Well…” Yaluda pauses for a second. “Yeah, I think Blix and I were seven or eight. Blix might have been eight. He’s slightly older than I am.”

“Just seven years old and already a little rebel.”

“Pretty much.” Yaluda agrees. “But onto the end of the story. The King finally agreed to assign Blix to Sir Wogen after Prince Yaluda blatantly referenced the corruption running rampant through our generals at the time. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy at all, but Blix was alive and after that incident we quickly became friends. We would spar together in training, although he would always beat me and my– my sister.”

“Your sister trained in sword fighting?” I ask, more than a little surprised.

“”Well she always wanted some excuse to hand out with the big kids.” Yaluda answers blandly.

“Were you close?” I ask, and then hesitate. “Nevermind, you don’t have to answer that one. It's a little personal.”

“No! I–” Yaluda pauses, collecting his thoughts. “I don’t mind sharing stories of her. I want to tell them. Nobody ever talks about her anymore, and it feels like they’ve forgotten her completely. Sometimes,” he adds on softly, “I wonder if they would forget me that easily too if my dad had succeeded. If no one would talk about me. I know I’d hate that. So I want to remember her, tells tories of her whenever I can to show how she existed.” He chuckles ironically. “It's like the opposite of a sore spot for me, so,” he looks at me, his golden eyes almost vulnerable as we stare at each other. “Feel free to ask any questions you want.”