Alabaster

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My mind races as I jog through the hallowed halls of the palace castle. Poison. The royal guard was poisoned. Is poisoned. From what though? That mead from the royal guard’s mess hall was awfully bitter.

It’s just a hypothesis, but it fits the situation. The royal guard must have been poisoned from the mead during breakfast in the mess hall. It would be easy for the common servants to avoid the poisoned mead, as they do not share the same mess hall. It fits.

At this rate, the guard would already be poisoned. Wouldn’t they have? By the time I arrived there last cycle, they had already began their meal. Maybe, just maybe though, if I could get there in time, I could save some. I could save just enough.

At the thought, I pick up the pace. As my jog turns into a full on sprint, I feel my coronet slip from my head, and fall to the floor. I ignore it in favor of increasing my speed, however, as it matters little in the grand scheme of these things. Even a second spent to pick it up could mean a dozen guards imbibing the poisoned drink. No, I must not waste time.

By the time I reach the first entrance to the servants’ halls, my sickness has already forced my breathing ragged, and my legs wobble like jelly beneath my weight - which, as my frame goes, isn’t particularly heavy.

I press on, still, shoving my way through startled servants doing their duties with frowns on their faces. I make it to the servant’s mess hall and shove the door open. I register the change in demeanor of the commoners within before shoving through the hall. I make it to the door to the royal guard’s mess hall, and throw my shoulder against it.

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The door slams open with a loud crash as a squire falls to the ground in surprise, spilling mead all over himself. I take a few steps into the room, slap the mead out of the closest guards hands and sputter out, “p- poison!” The next second, I cough several times before falling to hands and knees and retching out blood. This is why I don’t run. Another perk of my illness.

Captain Friederich rushes to my side, and helps me to a bench. “By the gods, Alabaster, are you alright?” He looks up and gestures to a squire, calling, “well don’t just stand there, get a handkerchief or something!”

“No, really, I’m fine,” I say, my voice raspy.

“You are clearly not fine.”

“That’s not the problem right now.” I clear my throat and wipe the blood from my mouth, only succeeding in smearing it across my face instead, before I take a breath, “tell me you haven’t drunk any mead today.”

“I could, but it would be a lie. Most of the guard drinks it daily. This day is no exception. Why do you ask?”

I sigh, “I- don’t feel so great.”

The squire arrives with a handkerchief. I take the napkin, and cough into it. I really shouldn’t have pushed myself so hard. One more cough, and I slump to the ground.

As my body shuts down, my mind only races faster. I didn’t arrive on time. I couldn’t arrive on time. They must have already taken the poison unknowingly before the cycle’s start point.

If I can’t save the guard, then what do I do? The guard is the only force here. The only force that can take on the revolutionaries. If they are dead no matter what, then how do I save everyone? How do I end this loop? This damned loop.

All I have are questions. Every answer only opens up more questions. Questions, questions, questions.

Those are the last words going through my head before I pass out.