PART I - MASTERCRAFT
The entire kingdom of Imoria became subdued and quiet as the proclamation traveled at the ludicrous speed of the Network and rumor, tumbling like a torrent of news in all directions. The excitement for the upcoming holiday wasn’t quite completely killed, but it had been muted for the moment, set aside to deal with something more important. The King Regents were dead! That’s what the royal proclamation had said. Both Regents. Beloved former kings now gone. Across the land, hearts began to ache at the loss, feeling as if a small part of their own family was gone, too.
Quickly after the proclamation passed from Scryer to Scryer as relay, a rumor came. It was carefully leaked and allowed to spread as a follow-on whisper, answering the one curious question everyone had, namely ‘What happened?’ ‘The Regents stumbled upon a patch of overripe haver mushrooms as they walked together in the woods and the spores overtook them,’ was what the rumor said. That was it, a simple, understandable event that no one wished to dwell upon. It was an awful way to die after all, lungs filling with quickly growing fungi as slowly you took in less and less air, gasping for breath until it was finally over. “What a terrible way to go,” everyone said as they heard what had happened. “Simply awful,” they would add as a sad afterthought, trying to push the image from their head. Maybe they would hug a loved one, or even a stranger. Some might shake their head in disbelief that this had happened, but nobody actually questioned the truth of the story. It was an accident. Bad luck. Simply … chance.
At dinner tables, parents would use the opportunity, taking the hands of their children and explaining in careful words, wiping tears away as needed. They’d then turn it into a lesson, repeating the mantra everyone learned almost before they could walk, to drill it into the young ones’ heads again. ‘Green is clean, red is dead’ the saying went. Haver mushrooms were highly sought for many reasons, and if the tops were green they were safe. But if the mushrooms turned red, then … this could happen. ‘Green is clean, red is dead’ the children would chant back in a careful, wide-eyed monotone, confirming they had learned the lesson.
Still, the feelings quickly faded as everyone realized something. They had no reason to feel this way or to even really care. It wasn’t like the Legacy Kings had any power over anything. They weren’t really important. Nothing those rich people on high did actually mattered to a farmer toiling in a field or a merchant selling his wares. The King Regents were dead, but life would continue on unchanged for nearly everyone in Imoria. They could be sad for the King and the now-dowager Regent Queen, and for the little Princess Alena, but the fields still needed tilling and the wares still needed to be sold. It simply didn’t matter, and life soon went on as normal, perhaps with a little more concern about the color of mushrooms.
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At the training camp, the news played out in much the same way. Everyone gathered close to the Sergeant-Major as her sigil-amplified voice rang out from the shelter roof. Her words cracked as she repeated the proclamation, reciting it out slowly a total of three times as tradition called for, before it would be posted for all to see. As the final words echoed slightly over the now-stunned crowd, Natala climbed down and walked stiffly away, her face forced into an expression of no-emotion, even though she hurt like all the others.
But, unlike the rest of the kingdom, things were different here. After the shock wore off, there was no shrugging of shoulders and getting back to whatever needed to be done. To the officers, soldiers, staff and recruits, this mattered. It mattered because of one Elf, who some called a friend, and most at least called an acquaintance. He was pleasant, proper, always remembered a person’s name, and made you feel happy in the moment he might say hello. So, the death’s of the Regents mattered to those in the camp, because they knew it would matter to him. Slowly, all eyes turned to seek out Vanis, the Prince, the grandson and great-grandson of the now-gone former Kings. He was nowhere to be seen.
Callie’s face was emotionless. This wasn’t a surprise to her like it was to everyone else. Pixyl actually burst into weeping, and soon dragged Jesca and Ambria into tears along with her. The Pixie had grown up in a family that were rabid fans of the royalty, and that was too ingrained in her to not provoke an emotion of some kind. Add to that the fact Vanis was her cabinmate and friend, and Callie soon found herself holding her sniffling girlfriend, trying to tell her it would be alright.
Vanis had sworn Callie to secrecy, making her promise to say nothing until the official announcement came, and certainly nothing about the truth of the Regents' deaths, and Callie had upheld that request. Vanis had also told Lena, and even revealed the likely plot against the throne, possibly in a moment of weakness. Maybe it was simply because he just needed to talk to a peer that knew this world, and he knew Lena could keep a secret, too. Of the officers, only Xera and Galin had been informed of what had really happened.
Scryer Yulayla was made aware, but not of the suspicious details, so she knew the announcement would be coming, and she certainly told the other Scryers. They professionally kept secrets, so they had been safe until the word came. Vanis made a choice to not tell Juniper, because this was the kind of news that she could easily accidentally let slip. Finally, a small group of other people were told of the deaths, and Vanis was now on his way to see them. Quietly he walked into the Tannery office and cleared his throat.
“Yes?” Fullo called out, looking up from the table she was leaning over, apparently having missed the door being opened. Her eyes went wide as she saw Vanis and then the look on his face. She swallowed the lump suddenly growing in her throat. “Is it time?”
“It is,” Vanis said quietly. “The proclamation just arrived.”
“Okay. Come back here and I’ll go get it. They did an amazing job, I think. They wanted it to be perfect.”
Vanis walked around the counter as Fullo tried to give him a weak smile, although it was faltering. She bowed her head, and turned to walk through the doorway into the back. Vanis sighed, then took a deep breath. He was forcing himself to keep his emotions in check. He’d known this was coming for, what, six days or so? He shouldn’t need to feel anything. But the official proclamation somehow made it all the more real, and it was weighing on him much heavier than he’d expected, crashing into him, in fact. For now, he would put on a stoic public face, but he’d also need to be alone soon. Not for long. Maybe an hour. Time enough to grieve physically and clean himself up. Before and after that, he would have a part to play, and that required showing nothing but the strength of The Crown.
He didn’t really know he did, but in a daze Vanis found a chair and sat. He leaned forward, head over his knees and feeling light as he stared at the wooden floor. Maybe he stared past it; he really didn’t know what he looked at, he just stared. His grandfathers were gone. His father was in danger. His sister, the heir, was in danger. He was powerless to do anything, except wait and train and perform his role for now. He longed to be back home, even if for a short time, just to be with them. He probably could even make that request and receive permission, although he’d have to arrange to keep a proper officer close for the aura. He didn’t though. He’d have to abandon his friends here, and maybe Callie, or bring her along as her guardian. But, his father had ordered him to hide away in this remote nowhere, in a place where he could do nothing but would presumably be safe. It was the right choice, but still it hurt.
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A single tear fell from the Prince’s eye, rolling ever so slowly down his nose before dripping to the floor. It landed, making the tiniest of splashes, and leaving a wet circle of grief amongst the dust and grime.
The sound of Fullo clearing her throat snapped Vanis’s head up, and he quickly stood, clearing his own. He started to speak, but the Tigerkin held up her paw. Quietly, she laid something on the table and walked to the young Prince, before pulling him into a tight embrace. She didn’t say anything, and neither did Vanis, for several long seconds. As the hug broke, she brushed the back of her paw across his face to clear away the water, before giving him a light kiss on his cheek. It wasn’t a romantic gesture, just one of true caring, an attempt to pull away a bit of the pain for just a little while.
“Thank you,” Vanis said quietly, putting on a smile as he touched his cheek. It was forced, but it was also sincere.
“Much sad,” a tiny, male voice called, and Vanis looked to see five Brownies standing in a tight group, the master tailor at the front. The expressions on their faces matched Zyxengrisc’s words.
“Yes. Much sad,” Vanis said, working to continue holding the smile, but choking a bit on the words.
“Make good,” the Brownie said, gesturing up to Fullo. “Make … perfectness. Make …” his voice trailed off, and he turned to speak in Fae with one of the female Brownies behind him, before turning back. “Make fit for Prince.”
“I’m sure it is,” Vanis said, and he knew it was.
“This will suffice?” Fullo asked, gesturing to the item on the table.
Vanis walked over, seeing a black strip of cloth laid out. “It is perfect,” Vanis said, a hand instinctively wiping under an eye again.
“Make … not cloth,” Zyxengrisc said, frowning as he continued to be frustrated by his language skills. He clapped his hand to his chest a couple times, high, by his left shoulder. “Special?” he said with a questioning inflection, hoping it was close to the right word.
Vanis leaned close, seeing the two side-by-side symbols in red, shaped like eight-pointed stars. He had indeed requested the icons be made of simple cloth, but these weren’t. Instead, they were made up of hundreds, no, many many hundreds, of tiny red beads, each sewn in place so tightly as to look as one perfect symbol. The mourning sash did not need to be a work of art. It wasn’t complex; just a black sash with two red stars, one for each of his grandparents. But this … this was masterful, and not just in the beadwork. Every cut, every stitch, every line … perfect. Beyond perfect.
“I have never seen its equal,” Vanis said, running his hand over the symbols, the beading so tight as to nearly feel smooth. He looked up at the group of tailors. “I have no proper words, my friends.”
Zyxengrisc seemed to hesitantly beam at the praise, and behind him the other Brownies let out the collective breaths they were holding. You could sense how much it meant to them to get it right, and they had far surpassed that.
One of his assistants gave Zyxengrisc a push forward, and all of them gestured earnestly, encouraging him in Fae to do or say something. He tried to wave them off, but the tiny ladies growled and pointed forward, before one stomped a foot hard on the floor and pointed again.
“Make more,” the master Brownie finally said, looking up at Vanis. “For … unformal times. More strongness?” He shook his head, annoyed again with his speech skills. Looking up at Fullo, he rattled off a few native words. Then he held out a piece of leather.
“He said they made this for informal situations, and it is more rugged,” Fullo clarified.
Curious, Vanis walked over to the tiny Fae and knelt down. He took the item, finding a short piece of looped leather, with scufrow attached to the front and back of two longer strips.
Zyxengrisc patted his upper arm, and then pointed to the same spot on Vanis’s as well.
“Ah, for my arm?”
“Muchly!”
Vanis examined the armband. Its leather had been dyed midnight-black, as the sash was, with two red stars, as the sash had, although these stars were made of red-colored leather. It was designed to be worn on the upper arm and over the shoulder, but the extended strips at the top were confusing. “I don’t understand how …”
“May I?” Fullo asked.
Vanis nodded and stood, and Fullo removed his left shoulder armor, the Velcro-like ripping sound seeming out of place for some reason. The scufrow on the leather strips attached to its matching points on his armor, front and back, allowing the arm-and-shoulder mourning band to be secured in place. The armor then settled back over it, attaching to the outside scufrow of the armband’s straps. This would be to wear when in training or some other active setting, where the more-formal sash would get in the way or be inappropriate.
Turning, Vanis kneeled again, taking in all the Brownies. “Thank you, all of you. I’m afraid I have no more words than that, so I’ll simply say them again. Thank you.”
The little Brownies all bowed their heads as they each took a couple steps back. The younger ones were all blushing at the praise, and Zyxengrisc was trying hard not to look like he was taking the same pride in their work, given the reason for it. Then, in a chaotic-flitter of Brownie speed, all of them turned and ran off as one, disappearing around the corner. For a moment, one head poked back into view, getting one last look, before it disappeared again.
The Prince stood. “I’ll wear the sash for now,” he said. “For right now, that is, but this other piece is perfect for active times.”
Fullo lent a hand, detaching the armband to save Vanis needing to fumble a bit. Vanis, in turn, put the leather piece into his backpack, which he had removed and set aside. He was about to toss the sash over his shoulder, but Fullo actually smacked his hand away, picking it up herself. “Let me, please.”
Vanis did smile now. “You would so strike the Prince?” he asked, his voice obviously joking. He then bowed his head.
“Shut up,” Fullo said flatly, her whiskers quirking just slightly. She settled the sash over Vanis’s shoulder, before fussing and straightening it to fit it exactly. It wouldn’t stay perfect, but she needed him to at least leave the building perfect.
“Thank you again,” Vanis said after Fullo was satisfied with everything.
“Given the reason, I won’t say I was happy to help,” the Tigerkin said, straightening her posture to seem a little more formal. “I will instead say that it was an honor, Your Majesty. For me, and for the rest of my people. Should you have any need, we are at your service.”
Vanis stiffened himself, taking Fullo’s paw in one hand and cupping it with his other. “May the Stars shine upon you and yours.”
“And you as well.”
Taking a deep breath, Vanis turned. He paused for a moment, but just for a moment, working up the strength to move forward. He quickly found it, let out the held breath, and left the building. He may be Recruit Vanis while here, but for the moment, he was Prince Vanis del Montano, and he had no choice but to be strong.