PART VI - A PRINCELY TALE

“Oh come on, Vanis. She’s going to hear it from somebody eventually. Wouldn’t you rather we tell her?”

“What?” Pixyl said, her curiosity creeping in.

“Ugh, fine,” Vanis said, throwing up his hands. “I’m the …”

“Oooo, let me, let me!” Callie said.

“Callie, stop it. It’s not your story to tell,” Lena said sharply.

Vanis smiled. “It’s alright. Go ahead Callie. I know you’ll just butt in anyways.”

“Okay. So you’ll never …. Hey! I don’t always butt in!”

Everyone’s eyes, save Pixyl’s, were fixated judgmentally on her.

“Yes you do,” Tazrok said matter-of-factly. “Always.”

“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Callie said, pretending to be insulted.

“Would you like examples, Little One?” Xin asked. “I can provide several.”

Callie gave Xin a harsh glare and growled, “Quiet you!” She turned back to Pixyl, pretending nothing had happened. “So, anyways, you’ll never guess who Vanis is?”

Pixyl just shrugged her shoulders, which elicited a slight wince of pain.

“Vanis is an honest-to-goodness prince! He’s the son of some King guy named … Feldwin was it? Del Monty? Del Matthew?”

“That’s correct,” Vanis said. “Feldwin del Montano.”

“Right, so he’s the firstborn son of this King guy!”

Pixyl turned to face Vanis, her eyes growing wide. The Prince?! This Elf was the Prince! She may hate her family, but the one thing she had been instilled with all her life was the importance of the three monarchies. Her mother. Her grandmother. Her great-grandmother. All practically worshiped the royalty. Instinctively she immediately started to curtsey and cast her eyes down.

“Oh dear. No no, stop, please,” Vanis said quickly.

“But…” Pixyl began.

“No, don’t,” Callie said. “He’s just here cuz he’s got the Curse and doesn’t want to be treated like a royal guy. Instead, just treat him like any other recruit.”

“But I can’t…” Pixyl started, looking briefly at Vanis before casting her eyes down again. “He’s the f-f-firstborn of the K-King. The Prince! He’ll be the n-n-next King!”

Vanis sighed and walked across the room to where the little Pixie was standing. He knelt down in front of her so he was close to her eye level and put his hand gently under her chin, raising her head. “Pixyl, look at me please.”

Reluctantly, the little Fae raised her eyes to look into his.

“First, Callie is correct. I must be treated just like any other recruit. Because if I wasn’t, none of us would get the training that we must have and that would be a disservice, and dangerous, to all recruits here. But, if that is not enough, also know that I will also not be the next King. I am not in line for the throne. You do not owe me any fealty.”

“Yeah ….” Callie started hesitantly, “Why exactly is that? Where I come from, the firstborn is the next ruler.”

“This is true,” Xin echoed. “The next Queen is always the daughter of the previous.”

“That is the way,” Tazrok added.

Without standing, Vanis quickly shifted his eyes to Callie and then back to Pixyl. “Please, young Miss Pixyl. You have no need to cast your eyes down to me. I am just … one of the team.”

Pixyl swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak, going against everything she had been taught to do since she was a little girl. The words couldn’t come out, and she quickly closed her lips and simply nodded in acknowledgement. Even now, her family could control her.

Vanis smiled in return and rose to return to his feet.

“So what gives?” Callie asked Vanis. “Why won’t you be King?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Vanis looked imploringly at Lena before letting out a sigh. “Politics.”

“That’s it? Politics? There’s got to be some kind of sinister intrigue or secret plot or something, then. Spill!” Callie demanded.

“Perhaps there is a little dark-room plotting and intrigue,” Vanis said. “Up until recently, I was in line for the throne, but the Parliament changed the rules of ascension, disqualifying me. My sister will take the throne when the time comes.”

“So what changed?” Xin asked.

Vanis sighed and sat on his bed. “My mother was a commoner when my father met her. At the time he was a young prince, younger than I am now, and she was part of the castle staff, in service to my grandmother, who was Queen at the time. My father and mother were madly in love, truly. When it was discovered she was with child, they were to be married quickly, before my birth. An elegant, yet muted, ceremony was planned with appropriate dignitaries invited to be in attendance. Alas, my arrival came prematurely, before the formal wedding could be held. My parents were married, at her bedside, while she was in active labor. I was born healthy, yet very small, and placed immediately into the care of Healers to stabilize me.”

“Something happened, didn’t it,” Callie said, reading the expression on the Warlock’s face.

“It did. After the delivery, she began to bleed heavily. Healers tried in vain, but nothing seemed to aid her, and she died ten minutes after I was born, never having a chance to even hold me. But, she was the wife of the Prince when she died.”

No one said anything as Vanis recounted his tale. There was a profound sadness in his eyes that spread to everyone else in the room.

“In time,” Vanis continued, “my father met and married his current wife, allowing him to assume the throne from my grandfather two years later. She is now the current Queen. I, myself, was fourteen when they were married and she treats me as her own. She may be my step-mother by blood, but she is my mother in all other ways.”

“Isn’t the King the King for life?” Callie asked, interrupting. “Why would your father assume the throne? Or did your grandfather die?”

Vanis shook his head. “Our tradition for generations has been that the King will abdicate after the heir has married and a few years have passed. It keeps the monarchy young. Were I still eligible, and I to marry, I would assume the throne in two or three years, and my father would become a King Regent, an honored advisor. My Grandfather and Great-grandfather still act in that role today.”

“So why can’t you be king?” Callie asked, wanting to get back to the story.

“Right,” Vanis said, getting back to the story. “My parents tried for many years, and eventually, a new child was born, my sister, Alena. I was twenty-three at the time. She’s a wonderful young lady, now eight herself. Some day, she will be a magnificent Queen.”

“So you’re not in line for the throne? You are a legitimate prince, and not born out of wedlock?” Callie asked.

“This is where politics comes in,” Vanis said with a sly smile. “The rules of succession were changed a year ago to say only the child of a wedded princess that actually had a coronation could be the heir, unless she was already nobility. And as my mother was a commoner, and a coronation could not be done before my mother passed, that marked me ineligible.”

“Okay, that is pretty lame,” Callie said flatly. “It sounds to me like someone specifically didn’t want you to become the King.”

“That’s my belief as well. In fact, the Conscription Curse that I bear was originally intended for my father, and I was able to intercept it. Had he been forced to war, the kingdom would have passed to my sister while he was away, and a regent of Parliament's choosing would have ruled in her stead.”

“So, you would have just acted as the Regent, then. Right? Or your grandfather could serve in that role.”

“I have a feeling I would have been removed from that role in some form. Perhaps another Parliamentary declaration choosing another. Perhaps a convenient accident. Or maybe just outright murdered. A similar fate would have likely befallen the other King Regents. No, this is a game someone is playing to take the kingdom from my father, and make it appear legitimate. They don’t dare try to Curse him now, lest they give themselves away. But I am sure something else is being plotted.”

“So what will you do?”

“Once I get rid of this Curse, I will find who set this game in motion and … have a very intense conversation with them. Very intense and very unpleasant. If I can reach Gold Tier as a Warlock, you can imagine how much more … intense that conversation will be.”

“I don’t envy the person on the receiving end of that talk,” Lena said.

“Nor should you,” Vanis confirmed, an angry ember burning briefly in his eyes.

Pixyl had enjoyed hearing the Prince’s story, even if it was sad. It would be hard to pretend he wasn’t royalty, but if that was what he commanded, then she would do the best that she could. So many strange people in this room and it somehow made her feel a little closer to them all to know they had some oddity in common. A strange or Army-ordered class, a secret past, a mystery to solve. It wouldn’t take long for them to hate her, but, for now, she was going to relish the tiny moment of feeling as odd as everyone else did.

“Is there anything you need?” Lena asked the Pixie again.

“Do any of you have a kn-kn-knife?” Pixyl asked, after pondering a moment.

“Yes,” both Lena and Vanis answered at the same time.

“May I bar-bar-bar- use it?”

Lena reached to the back of her head and pulled from her hair a small blade with a T-shaped handle. “Will this work?”

“Th-th-thank you,” Pixyl said, accepting the knife, flipping it deftly a few times in her hand to test its balance. She flipped it again, into the air this time, before expertly snatching the handle with her other hand. “Excuse me. I n-n-need to fix my robe.” With that, she walked to the door of the latrine and stepped inside, closing it behind her.