I remembered a conversation I'd had with Rastari a few nights prior while we were sitting by the fire. I had asked him why the beastmen brought so few of their soldiers into hostile land. It was something I couldn’t wrap my head around. Only a hundred soldiers had accompanied us, and only the six of us would enter the Golden Palace. If the humans meant us harm, wouldn’t a small group be in greater danger than a large one?
He had told me, “Because humans are cowards. If we bring a larger army, they'll take it as a show of hostility. In the same vein, if we insist on a larger delegation for the Palace, they’ll think we’re planning something. But more importantly, if they were to attack our small army, they can be sure that a larger army will invade in response. As it is, we don’t pose a threat, but attacking us does.”
I hadn’t realized the wisdom in his words until we were passing the lines of guards as we entered the Palace. It was as if they were waiting for us to do something aggressive, to give them an excuse. But they would wait for their excuse, and we wouldn’t be attacked out of turn. At least, I didn’t think we would be.
The last time I’d entered the Golden Palace, I’d been taken down a cobblestone path through the garden, and entered through a servants door in the back. This time we entered through the main entrance, following a pristine white stone road up to a courtyard in front of the grand stairway that led to the gilded front doors.
“Humans like to poke and prod, trying to get reactions. They want us to behave in a way that proves they're right about us. So when we enter the Palace, we have to be immune to those provocations,” Rastari had advised me. “It might be safer for you because you’re one of them, but it won’t be for Andrian, if he loses his temper for your sake.”
Rastari's words had their intended effect. Later that night, I’d talked to Andrian about it and made him promise that no matter what he saw or heard, as long as my life wasn’t in danger, he wouldn’t do anything about it. He’d grudgingly agreed, but I was still worried he might do something foolish on my behalf. I reminded myself that I had to stay strong for his sake.
We passed through the grand entrance and into a vast foyer with marble floors and murals of the previous golden eyed Kings adorning the walls. The ceiling was three stories above us, making the open space feel even larger. I was pretty sure our entire townhouse could have fit inside. It was overwhelming and it was crowded, though the clerks, knights, and nobles all gave us a wide berth as we walked straight through.
From there we walked a short distance, up a flight of stairs and down a long and overly spacious hallway that led to a set of jewel encrusted doors. The doors were opened for us by a pair of servants, and the Second Prince walked straight through without pausing.
“His Highness, Second Prince Eduard returns with the beast delegation!” a servant announced.
Following the Second Prince, we entered what I now realized was the throne room. Pillars lined a long red carpet that led to a dias with a throne of gold. Dozens of high ranking nobles watched us from the other sides of the pillars, and seated on the Golden Throne was a man who could only be His Majesty, King Everys de Vray. Golden eyes and silver sheened hair, with an aura that commanded obedience. I was surprised to discover that the Second Prince resembled his father far more closely than the First Prince, his golden eyed heir; he had a plain face and a dispassionate air.
“Your Majesty, father of mine, I have returned safely,” the Second Prince announced, dropping to one knee in front of the throne. He looked up reverently at the man he called father. The King glanced at him without saying anything, studying the beastmen instead.
“Welcome back brother,” the First Prince greeted him from beside their father, with a smile I didn't think was a lie. The First Prince knew what his brother was, but loved him regardless. He turned to the rest of us and said, “Generals, it is good to see you again. Please make yourselves welcome and comfortable in our land.”
“Enough pleasantries, Elantro. Now, where’s the Duke’s boy?” the King asked, looking at our group expectantly.
“Yes,” a voice off to the side agreed, “What have you done with my son?”
My heart caught in my throat. It felt like I’d fallen through ice into freezing waters as I recognized the voice of my father.
No, this was nothing. I wasn’t alone and he couldn’t hurt me this time.
Without looking in the direction of my father's voice, I stepped forward and knelt in front of the throne as the Second Prince had done.
“Your Majesty,” Shidah spoke up, “May I present the Duke’s son, Julien de Ramport, mate to General Andrian, apprentice shaman, and citizen of the Beastlands.” Shidah’s introduction further reminded me that I really wasn’t alone.
“Raise your head and stand,” the King commanded, “I want to take a proper look at you.”
I got to my feet and looked up at the King. Showing far more expression than I ever saw from the Second Prince, he looked me up and down, assessing me. I stood confidently before him, and he narrowed his eyes and asked, “You’re a mute, then?”
I nodded in answer to his question. Part of me balked at the idea of lying to the King, but the words “citizen of the Beastlands” were fresh in my mind, and I managed to avoid giving any tell to my lie.
“Duke of Ramport, you may approach the Golden Throne,” he announced and my father stepped forward. He approached and knelt before the throne. “Duke of Ramport, you have claimed a grievance with my son, the First Prince Elantro, claiming he sought to sell your daughter to the Beastlands out of spite and stole your son in her stead, forcing him to take her place.”
“Yes, your Majesty. First Prince Elantro targeted me, seeking to weaken my position and harm my daughter as punishment for my opposition to the treaty. My poor son did indeed volunteer, but only to save his sister and his house,” my father proclaimed, lying far more boldly than I ever could, “He thought I'd let it go because the boy is not legitimate, but I refuse to allow this insult to stand. I demand that my son be released from this obligation and returned to me.”
I looked at my father with a combination of shock and horror. The King, seeing my reaction, shook his head and said, “The Marquis’ face tells me more than enough, but let us follow the proper procedure anyway. Son of mine, how do you respond to the Duke's accusations?”
Rather than responding directly, the First Prince turned to me with a genuine smile and said, “Julien, you’re looking well. Surprisingly so, actually. When we first met, you were quite timid, weren’t you? Pale and much too thin as well. If I’m not mistaken, many of the nobles in the gallery could attest to your fragile state at your engagement banquet.” He spoke to me, but his words were for his father.
However, when he spoke again, he turned to face the King, “One of my knights infiltrated the party my brother brought to Ramport with him. Julien was taken in chains to the Palace in chains. Not only was he coerced into volunteering out of fear, he also showed signs of habitual abuse. He was sent, not to protect his sister, but to offend our guests. It is not my place to comment on how the Duke runs his duchy, and how he deals with his own flesh and blood is his business alone, but to pretend to be the victim in this? The Duke seems to have forgotten his place.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“I see,” the King considered both their words, “Duke of Ramport, I deny your grievance. I would also like to remind you that my son is your future King and it would be better to ingratiate yourself, rather than antagonizing him.”
“My apologies, your Majesty, but I am trying to protect my son,” my father persisted, “I may have imposed harsh discipline upon him, but it was for his own good. Please consider how you might feel if your son was held captive and violated by one of these creatures.”
“I'm certain I would be very upset if that were the case, but it is not. He is your son, not mine, and distasteful as it may be, I have no reason to believe that he wishes for this union to be dissolved. Julien de Ramport,” he returned his attention to me, “you may return to your home if you wish, and we will find someone else to fill this role. Will you choose to go home?”
I shook my head confidently. Satisfied with my answer, the King told my father, “I give you far too much leeway, Duke of Ramport. Never attempt to deceive me again.”
“But your Majesty–”
My father’s voice was interrupted by the First Prince, “Duke of Ramport, you have troubled my father enough. Whether you admit it or not, you have failed. This treaty will happen with your son at the center of it. Personally, I find it quite fitting that the hateful Duke bore a son who found love with the very people his father hates.”
Gritting his teeth in rage, my father retreated back into the crowd with a furtive glare in my direction. His eyes widened slightly when they met mine and I didn’t immediately avert my gaze. Fighting every instinct he’d instilled in me, I held his glare without flinching. This man had no power over me anymore.
“Now, which one of you is Andrian?” the King inquired, no longer interested in my father.
“I am, Your Majesty,” Andrian responded, stepping forward but not dropping to a knee. “General Andrian of the lion tribe and Julien de Ramport’s mate.”
The King frowned and muttered under his breath, “It certainly looks somewhat human…” A thick silence hung in the air after that comment, but he seemed unbothered by the uncomfortable atmosphere. “It is certainly unpleasant to think about, but if the Marquis is satisfied, there is no reason to be dissatisfied. Peace is simpler than war. You may proceed with the treaty and the marriage, I will not stand in the way. You are all dismissed.”
When I realized that I had passed a test I didn't even know I was taking, I felt a deep sense of relief. The First Prince had said before that his father, the King, didn't fully support the treaty, so not getting in the way was the best we could hope for. This was what passed for supporting his son, I suppose.
The nobles filed out, leaving only the Royal Family and the beastmen in the Throne Room.
“Eduard,” the King said in a cold voice, “the Duke of Ramport isn’t the only one who tried to deceive me about this, but I thought this discussion should be a private one.”
“Father, Your Majesty, I promise that I spoke only what I thought to be the truth. The Duke of Ramport has tricked both of us with his claims of grievance. I am ashamed to admit that I allowed myself to be deceived by the representative of a lesser house,” the Second Prince lamented. It was a surprisingly believable act.
The King smiled indulgently, “Of course my son, I expected as much. You’re a good boy and wouldn’t trouble your brother on purpose. This is just another example of why the Gods chose your brother as the next King. You lack his insight. He can see through the smokescreens and find the truth of matters. You did your best though, so don’t feel too bad.”
“Father, if it pleases you, I would like to take our guests to their rooms and explain the schedule for the next few days. May we have your leave?” the First Prince inquired, hurrying to get us out of the King’s sight now that the matter was settled.
“You have my leave, Elantro,” the King informed him with a wave of his hand, “take the beasts and the Marquis to their rooms. I've grown weary of this conversation.”
The First Prince led us out of the Throne Room and through the Golden Palace to the wing the beastmen had stayed in before. We moved in silence, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. We simply had nothing to say until we could be certain that no one would hear us.
Long and winding staircases and decadently decorated corridors blurred together as we walked through the oversized Palace toward our destination. Eventually, we found ourselves in front of a somewhat familiar looking set of white doors with golden handles; the same room where I’d originally met the First Prince.
The room looked pretty much the same as it had before, six armchairs surrounding a short wooden table, the room lacking the adornments that were inescapable elsewhere in the Golden Palace. Lord Erris and Amelie both awaited us in the room.
Without any preamble, the First Prince said, “Lord Erris, if you please?”
Lord Erris nodded and began chanting. A sparkling white barrier shimmered into existence around us, then disappeared in a burst of bright white. More familiar with magic than I was before, I noticed how different Lord Erris’ casting was from what I had heard Beastland shamans use. Clunkier, more awkward, and I was pretty sure he mispronounced a few words. Regardless, the barrier worked, so who was I to critique him?
Once the barrier was in place, the First Prince immediately asked, “How did the treatments go? Can he speak?”
“Ay,” Rastari answered, “he can. And what about your side of things? Have you found proof of the southern Duke’s involvement?”
“Sadly, very little. The Duke’s men were careful to leave no traces of their presence. Nothing that we could use to point this in their direction,” the First Prince admitted, “so it'll be Julien’s word against his.”
“Falyn,” I interrupted him, “My name is Falyn.”
The First Prince looked at me with surprise, but nodded and agreed, “Falyn then. It'll be Falyn's word against his.”
As if hearing my voice had crossed the line of her patience, Amelie jumped from her seat and hugged me, “Falyn, it is wonderful to hear your voice!” Then, as if remembering herself, she released me and apologized, “My Lord, I’m sorry for my presumption. Please forgive this humble servant for her rudeness.”
“No, I’m no Lord, I’m just Falyn. It is good to see you too, Amelie, and thank you for everything you’ve done for me until now,” I told her honestly. Truly, if it wasn't for Amelie, I would never have made it this far. I owed her far more than she knew. Or perhaps she did know. I couldn't be sure with that one.
“You’re doing much better now, aren’t you?” she asked, touching my arm, “You feel like a completely different person.” With a laugh, she added, “You look like one too. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“It’s amazing what simple things like access to food can do for a person,” Rastari commented. “I must say, Prince Elantro, I was sad to see your slums were looking no better than they did before. I had hoped you would consider my suggestions about how to improve the situation.”
“I addressed it with my father, the King, but he has advised me that we do not have the budget for such things,” the First Prince explained, looking abashed at the disheartened expression on Rastari’s face.
“I imagine the door frame of the Throne Room would be enough to feed the lot of em for a few years at least, so I don’t understand what the problem is.” Rastari shrugged and gestured around him, “You’re surrounded by riches you don’t need. Put them to good use.”
“Look, that's not what we came here to discuss, so let’s just forget about it. Besides, you should know it’s not that simple. This is my family’s legacy, not mere trinkets to be sold. Poverty isn’t something you can just fix,” he argued, immediately forgetting his own suggestion to forget about it.
“Excuse me, but, Prince Elantro,” I interrupted, surprising myself and everyone else. The First Prince looked at me in disbelief, and I realized my mistake. The beastmen could get away with calling him Prince Elantro because they were exactly that, beastmen. But I was still expected to call him Your Highness.
“I’m sorry. Your Highness,” I amended before continuing my thought, “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it really can be fixed. I’ve seen what a city without slums looks like, so I know it can be done. I can tell you for sure, that it’s the kind of city that doesn't have a wall to divide the people that matter from the people that don’t. Seeing firsthand how the noble and Royal families of Vrayna have utterly failed to protect the lower class from suffering, I’m ashamed to call myself human. Do better, Your Highness.”
Looking somewhat defeated, the First Prince muttered, “...I think I liked you better as a mute.”