Alabaster
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Waking up in cold sweat, gasping for air, I grasp at my stomach for a wound that is not there. Was all of that just a dream? But, it was so real-
“Prince Alabaster Ebestrine! Your highness, is everything ok?” One of the castle servants, I forgot his name, bursts through the door in a hurry, looking to all the world like the embodiment of worry.
“Do you not know how to knock? Yes, I am fine. I- I had a bad dream,” I mutter in response.
The boy’s face softens in relief for a moment before he turns back to his duties, “your father has called for a family meal in the grand hall.” He walks toward the door before pausing as if remembering something important, “do you need assistance in preparation?”
“I am perfectly alright with dressing myself, thank you very much,” I sigh, before shooing the servant out of the room and changing out of my nightgown.
I make sure to avoid the mirror as I change before putting on a layer of garnery. Garnery, nothing but a fancy name for a fancy clothing. The garnery comes in the shape of a loose fitting chemise tucked into layered trousers. I don a crimson cloak embroidered with archaic patterns before stepping out the door. Behind, dust floats through a ray of sun, onto my royal signet and coronet left sitting on an alabaster inlaid desk in a sun-lightened corner of the room.
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The palace walls lined in gold glimmer with ornate carvings in the morning sun as I pass through hallway after hallway, making my way towards the grand hall. A ten-minute walk takes me through golden statue lined rooms and painting filled hallways. As I approach the grand hall, stoic knights stand at the sides of the leading hallways as frantic servants rush about, back-and-forth from the grand hall.
I take nary a glance at the guards standing at each pillar marking the sides of the entrance. I do not need to, as I have many times, scrutinized them. Whether it be their taller-than-I halberds sharpened to perfection, their intimidating skirts - well, kilts - or their near perfectly unflinching expressions (seriously, not even the court jester can get a chuckle out of them), I’ve memorized it all.
The guards strike the floor with their halberds in salute as I pass, and the atmosphere changes entirely. The frantic rushing of servants morphs into a steady silence, calm yet tense. Knaves and wenches cross the room with platters laden with roasted meats and heavy soups and more, waiting on those seated at the long table.
I smoothly stride through the room and take my seat.
“It is good to see you out of bed, for once, boy,” a heavy voice rings out from the end of the table. His royal majesty, Emperor Loqtalios Ebestrine of the Ebestrinian Empire.
And, my father.
“Yes, while I may be sickly, I am apt enough for a short walk through these halls,” I respond with a strained smile. Matters such as my poor health are not preferable for table chatter, “how nice it is to see you not glued to your paperwork, dear father.”
“Such is why I have called this meeting. But let us not focus on such matters for the moment,” father says, “for such an uncommon chance as having a family meal, let us be merry, my dear family.”
Emperor Ebestrine raises a glass of wine, eliciting a chain reaction as the rest of the royal family sitting along the long table raise their own drinks in toast.
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I take a moment to look around the table. Mum, the Queen Consort, sits beside father discussing something. Something about… cake?
My brothers - both older than me - Laugh rambunctiously over horns of mead while elbowing each other.
The only person other than myself sitting alone, is my little sister, Laek, intently scribbling in a small book.
With everyone else so intently focused on their conversations, or in Laek’s case, their books, I space out and give up my mind to my thoughts.
Why did dear old dad call this meeting? Well, as he is almost always in his study doing some paperwork or other, it must be important. With the state of affairs of the empire, this family meal is not so merry at its core. Our economy has been in a landslide since the last crusade. Father can’t seem to solve the problems, no matter how much time he spends at the books. Mother just ignores them, hoping denial will make the rising ire of the populace disperse. My brothers are more interested in warfare than matters of the state, and Laek is too young to help out.
As for myself, there is nothing I can do. Even if I could fathom a solution, it would be written off instantly. After all, I have no say in courtly matters. I am just a sickly prince who sleeps all day.
With the empire facing wars all around us, a rebellion would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. And a rebellion is brewing without doubt. From the violent protests springing up all around to the treasonous whispering of the lower servants of the castle, it is only a matter of weeks. I must do something.
With that, I make up my mind. “Your Majesty, father, this is no time for a frivolous feast.”
Emperor Loqtalios’ eyes meet mine with tension before he relaxes and responds, “why, of course it is. We must celebrate this day! The beautiful sky, our dear family, the-”
“Now is not the time, father! You of all people should understand. Our empire, it’s falling apart at the seams.”
With that, his gaze turns serious as he sets down his wine glass with a deep sigh, “I had hoped it would not come to this.”
Laek’s face rises from her book as she blinks at father, “Come to what?”
The emperor’s hard gaze mollifies as he pauses, then continues, “I had hoped we could have one last happy meal as a happy family. But alas…” his hands rest on the edge of the table as he rises from the grand chair, “I am sorry. Truly.”
Mother gently reaches for his arm to stop him from rising, “please, don’t.”
“I am sorry, Laverna my dear wife, but this would have been broached eventually,” Loqtalios hesitates for a moment before taking her hand and squeezing it gently before rising his gaze to meet with mine. “My sons, my daughter, I have done all I can. All I possibly could to bring balance to our kingdom, our empire. I am but one man, though, and with not enough time. A rebellion is brewing. The vassals are no longer contented beneath my rule. The peasants find themselves starving in this war-induced depression. Our only option remaining is to flee. I have arranged for a transport to the Kingdom of Kivenn. In just one week’s time, we will leave with our wealth and lives.”
“That’s where Keri is,” blurts out Laek.
“Yes, that is the nation of your sister’s husband.”
Talioson, my eldest brother, stands up from the table, “can’t we just crush the revolts with our military? We have the forces.”
“Our forces are spread far and wide dealing with attacks from surrounding nations. It is my fault, I was too hungry for power, and I started wars I could not end.
I rest my head in my hands. Well, shit.
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On the way back from the grand hall, I feel eyes boring into me. The servant’s frantic rushing takes on an undertone, one not so positive. Perhaps it is just my imagination. Perhaps it is no more than paranoia, but I swear it feels like I’m a mouse surrounded by snakes.
As I make it back to my quarters, that servant from earlier (the one I couldn’t remember the name of) bows slightly, “how was the meeting, m’lord?”
“Not the time,” I mutter out as I shove past him and through the door.
I collapse on my bed, groaning in contention. With a revolution brewing, I can’t even trust my own attendants. I can’t trust the meals brought to me. And, if one of them chose to enter my room with a dagger, I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it! Since I was born, I’ve been sickly. I barely made it through my first years without dying of the most common of colds. My immune system is weak, my bones are brittle, my endurance fickle. The only thing I’ve been able to rely on is my brain, and now paranoia is degrading that as well.
I lay my head back, onto the goose down pillow. Maybe all of this is a dream. Maybe, if I just went to sleep, I would wake up to a stable kingdom. Maybe, some rest would be nice. Some rest… maybe…
And, with that, darkness envelops me.