Chapter 1: Work Conditions

Reas was going to be late again. His heart raced as he glanced at his watch: 5:22. Eight minutes left.

"I can work with that," he muttered to himself, determined to make it in time.

The grand hallway of the palace stretched endlessly before him, its marble floors gleaming under the light filtering through the stained glass windows. House Illsum’s banners, with their vivid blue and red colors, hung majestically along the corridor, mirroring the hues of Reas’s impeccably tailored suit. He had spent the last hour training the newest maid in her duties, and now time had slipped through his fingers. The king awaited him in the throne room at the far end of the castle for the weekly report on palace affairs.

As Reas picked up speed, he realized his polished dress shoes were hindering him. Without breaking stride, he reached down and, with an awkward hop, slipped them off. Holding the shiny black shoes in one hand, he bolted around a corner, his feet now making barely a sound on the cool marble. Running through the palace was nothing new to him. Despite his strong build, Reas was agile and fit, his cardio honed by years of similar sprints. His bright red hair—dyed to match the family’s colors—contrasted sharply with his light blue eyes, a trait passed down through generations of the Perant line. Kept short to avoid distraction, his hair caught the last rays of the evening sun streaming through the wide windows.

He checked his watch again: 5:28. Two minutes left. He pushed himself harder, his heart pounding in his chest. The corridor blurred as he raced past, and then he nearly collided with an elderly maid balancing a precarious stack of letters. With a frantic leap, he dodged her, his broad shoulders just grazing her arm. She yelped in surprise but managed to keep her balance.

"Sorry!" Reas called out as he dashed past her. He recognized her as Eldrig, a fixture of the palace staff for over 25 years—longer than Reas had been alive. Eldrig’s voice, sharp with familiarity, rang out behind him.

"Not a problem, Master Perant! But hurry up! Tardiness is unbecoming of a butler!"

Reas couldn’t help but smile. Eldrig had teased him since he was a boy, and even now, as her superior, she hadn’t lost that playful edge.

One minute left.

The massive doors of the throne room loomed ahead.

Thirty seconds.

Reas skidded to a halt just before the entrance, hastily slipping his shoes back on. He took a deep breath, straightened his suit, and pushed open the heavy oak doors.

He had made it.

The throne room of Tulfun Palace was a breathtaking sight, even for someone as familiar with it as Reas. Massive marble pillars supported a ceiling that soared a hundred feet above, adorned with intricate carvings and frescoes. The stained glass chandeliers hanging from above were masterpieces of craftsmanship, their colors shifting in a mesmerizing dance as they reflected the artificial light created by the magical runes embedded in the walls. The floor, a polished expanse of purple resin, reflected the grandeur of the room, but it was treacherous; one misstep could send an unwary visitor sliding across the surface. A rich blue carpet, five feet wide, ran from the entrance to the foot of the king’s throne, climbing several levels of stairs.

Reas’s eyes followed the path of the carpet as it led up to the throne, an imposing structure dominating the room. The throne room was designed to impress and intimidate, a theater where power was displayed in every detail.

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Behind the throne, a thick red curtain descended from ceiling to floor, concealing numerous doors that led to servant quarters, guard rooms, kitchens, and storage areas. The ten towering pillars that lined the room each had five guards stationed between them, forming an immovable wall of protection. The royal guard stood at attention, their armor gleaming under the magical lights, and their eyes fixed straight ahead.

The thrones themselves were a study in hierarchy. The first level of stairs led to five smaller, identical thrones made of red crystal, each one meant for the king’s daughters. The next set of stairs brought one to three slightly larger thrones, equally red but more ornate, reserved for the king’s siblings and the queen’s brother. Higher still, a small platform on the left held a throne of exquisite red crystal, shot through with veins of blue in a shattered pattern—this was the queen’s seat. Opposite hers, a plain marble throne stood in stark contrast, significantly smaller and more modest. This was Reas’s seat, the advisor’s chair.

Finally, at the top, the king’s throne reigned supreme. A monstrous creation of black stone, shot through with veins of purple, its armrests carved into the shape of dragons with ruby eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light. King Huerald Illsum sat there, a figure of regal authority draped in a long red cape that flowed over the sides of the throne. His crown, crafted from black metal and studded with red and blue gems, rested on his head, contrasting with his blonde hair and pale skin. His dark red eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the room with an air of boredom. He yawned slightly, his chin resting on a fist adorned with rings of every conceivable metal and gem.

Seated a step below him was Queen Giseal, an ethereal beauty whose presence was both captivating and chilling. Her darker blonde hair, tucked neatly behind her sharply pointed ears, framed a face of cold perfection. Her stormy gray eyes seemed to see through everything, and her black dress, which clung to her every curve, only heightened her icy allure. As her gaze locked onto Reas, a shiver ran down his spine.

Creepy-ass woman, he thought, though he couldn't deny her beauty. Focus, Reas.

The princesses were absent, leaving the grand thrones above empty. Reas quickly, but with practiced grace, made his way to his place below the king’s left side. Though close enough to speak in a whisper, Reas held his tongue, awaiting the kings orders. The queen was out of sight to his right, past the stairs, but he knew she was always listening.

King Huerald looked down at Reas with a tired smile. “I hope you have good news for me, Reas. It’s been a long day.”

Taking this as his cue, Reas straightened up and began his report. “Of course, my lord. I have some excellent news, along with an inquiry I believe you’ll find particularly intriguing.”

“Oh?” The king raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“First, I’m pleased to inform you that the modifications to the ballroom have been completed. Both the new flooring and chandelier were installed without any issues. Second, the groundskeeper has retired, and his apprentice has taken over. I’m confident the young man will match, if not exceed, the skills of his former mentor. Third, the maids have—”

Reas continued with his extensive report, mentioning everything he thought the king would be interested in or need to know. While most of the palace’s daily happenings didn’t require the king’s attention, the ones that did were delivered with Reas’s characteristic efficiency. As he neared the end of his report, he came to the matter that required the king’s judgment.

“And finally, Your Majesty, I wanted to seek your perspective and advice. As you know, this year’s harvest has been particularly bountiful, resulting in a surplus of food. Two days ago, an embassy from Ariadia approached me. As you’re aware, Ariadia is a neighboring state that recently separated from the Kanitune Empire, which has been a staunch rival of Ceriphinam. They’ve requested assistance with food supplies for the coming winter, offering a significant payment in return. However, they’re not offering gold… but something far more exotic.”

The king’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Yes? What are they offering?”

“They must have caught wind of your fascination with the beasts of old, for they’ve proposed an ancient relic of the past—a complete skeleton of a giant sky turtle.”

King Huerald let out a sharp whistle, his eyes lighting up with greed. “The amount of food they’re requesting… would it harm our reserves or put our own people in danger?”

“Not in the slightest, my lord,” Reas assured him.

“That’s why you’re the best, Reas. Every day, you outshine your traitorous father. Accept the exchange and alert me of the skeletons arrival."

Reas’s smile faltered slightly, and he took a deep breath before responding. The mention of his father always carried a weight he struggled to ignore.

“Thank you, my lord,” Reas said, forcing his smile to return. “It is my duty and honor to serve.”

King Huerald gave a dismissive nod, and Reas turned to leave, the weight of his father's legacy heavy on his shoulders. As he walked away, his thoughts drifted back to his father, Alistair Perant.

Alistair had been the head butler before him, a position he had held with the same unwavering dedication Reas now strove to emulate. But five years ago, Alistair’s career—and life—came to a tragic end. Accused of treason under dubious circumstances, he was executed, leaving Reas to inherit the role. The rumors of his father’s supposed betrayal had always seemed more like a smokescreen to Reas. Even now, he couldn’t shake the sense that his father’s true fate had been shrouded in political machinations beyond his understanding.

As Reas descended the grand staircase, he could almost hear his father’s voice—a stern yet comforting presence in his memories. It was this memory that drove him to uphold the family’s legacy, despite the unjust shadow cast over it. The burden of living up to Alistair’s reputation was a constant reminder of the fine line Reas walked between duty and the lingering scars of past injustices.