Alabaster

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As I wake, I smile. A hysterical kind of smile. I let out a quiet chuckle. Then another. Soon, that chuckle turns into a cackle, and finally it becomes full on hysterical laughter.

“-aha ha ha,” I sigh. “Baudouin! I know you are there. Come in.”

The door swings open to the confused face of Baudouin.

“M’lord, are you ok? That laughter…”

“No time to talk. Go to the royal guard’s mess hall and stop them from drinking mead. The drink is poisoned.”

“Er, yes, m’lord. But I have to tell you, your father-”

“Yes, my father called a meeting. I know. Well, go on. Run. As fast as you can,” I say. Baudouin turns and exits, sprinting at full pace.

I get up from my bedside, and walk over to my desk. I grab the coronet and walk to the mirror. I brush my hair back with my hand, and place the coronet upon my head.

Time to end this. Once and for all.

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I walk through the halls toward the physician’s office. My eyes fall on every single servant along the way. The enemies. They walk through the halls, crossing my path here and there, doing their due diligence. All in wait for tonight.

Tonight, the roles are set to reverse. The servants will wipe the nobles out. Wipe me out. I plan to prevent that from happening. I plan to reverse the roles reversed.

I push the physician’s office’s door open, startling the old man.

“Oh- oh! Your Highness, Prince Alabaster, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Dr. Caelum attempts to bow in his chair. It does not pan out so well.

“You owe the pleasure to my need for a walking stick.”

“Why? I’ve cleared you myself. You need no cane to move. Just don’t run, and you should be fine.”

“I have the feeling I may need to run tonight. So, cane?”

“Yes, your highness.”

He picks up a cane from the same stash I got mine from yesterday, and bangs it against the wall.

“Why are you…?” A look of confusion flits past my face.

“Just making sure it’s sturdy.”

He hands the stick over.

“Here you go, m’lord. Though I really don’t see the need for it.”

“You don’t need to see the need for it, Caelum.”

I turn to leave before turning back to look at the good doctor.

“And go to the royal guard’s mess hall post-haste. I need you to check the guards for poison and treat them as best you can. They need to be in fighting shape tonight.”

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“But, why-”

“The mead is poisoned,” I interrupt, not having the patience to hear him through.

I turn, not waiting for his reaction before closing the door behind me. I walk through the halls again, cane in hand, heading for the grand hall.

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As I approach the pillared arch to the grand hall, I turn my attention to the royal guardsmen standing in wait. I stop in front of the entrance, and face the two.

“Don’t drink any mead, today.”

I continue into the grand hall, only after I see their nods of recognition.

Before I make my way to the table where the rest of the royal family sits, enjoying their meals, I stop by one of the royal guards lining the walls. I whisper to him the same warning I told the previous two, and tell him to pass along the message to all royal guards currently on duty.

As I approach the long table, father bellows out, “it is good to see you out of bed, for once, boy.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“Oh, and you are wearing your coronet. You never leave the room with it on.”

“Yeah, well, I’m taking a shine to it, I suppose.”

I take a seat at the table, and steel my words.

“Father, we need to talk.”

“I agree. That is why I called the family meeting, but let’s eat first,” the Emperor smiles heartily.

“To that!” Talioson says, raising his cup of wine.

“No. There is no time. We are in a crisis, father,” I frown, impatience talking.

“How so?” Mother questions.

“We are facing a revolution.”

“That’s not a concern for another week or two,” Albrit says in his condescending tone.

I sigh, looking at father in the eyes, “tonight, the commoners and servants plan to rebel. The uprising is not in a week or two, it is now.”

“What proof is there?” Father’s brow furrows.

“You need more proof than my word? Fine,” I look around the table, “but let’s have the servants leave for this. Not the guard, though.”

After father orders the servants to leave, I continue.

“One, I heard the servants discussing it,” blatant lie. “Two, there have been accounts of the royal guard’s mess hall mead tasting awfully bitter today. The court physician has confirmed it is poisoned,” another lie. The court physician hasn’t yet confirmed that. “Three, I have confirmation it is taking place today during the banquet you have planned,” less of a lie.

“How do you know about the banquet?”

“Not important. If you need further proof, just ask the court jester. He is one of the leaders, " to be fair that is mostly a guess on my part. “a little torture under threat of death should provoke some answers,” I say.

The table is speechless, as it should be. It is just a table, after all. But my family sitting around the table is not so lacking of words.

The meeting erupts in debe and arguments over what should or shouldn’t be done to combat this.

I slam my fist on the table, and raise my voice to be heard, “Stop squabbling like animals. I have a plan.”

Albrit frowns, “and why should we listen to you?”

Maybe because I have lived this day five times. Maybe because I know the ins and outs of the uprising by now.

But I don’t get a chance to say anything as father shuts Albrit down, “Stop it, Albrit. Let’s hear your brother out.”

Albrit is not happy about that, but he doesn’t speak out of turn again.

“Back to what I was saying. Tonight, the guards are going to be poisoned. They are going to die at the banquet, and the servants will take that chance and begin a slaughter upon us defenseless royalty and nobility. The revolution’s militia plans to join in on this. We wouldn’t have any way to fight back. Those not killed will be executed in front of a crowd.” I take a breath, and continue, “that is how it is supposed to go down. I will change that. I have already spread the message that the mead is poisoned to the royal guardsmen. For those who have already imbibed today’s batch, the doctor has been sent to treat them. I cannot say if he will save them or not, but either way the guard will not be down for the count. We will, as well, not hold the banquet as planned. Instead, I propose we imprison the servants before hand —not my personal servant, though. I am confident he is loyal— and prepare to hold off the revolutionary militia. We should ensure the castle gates are closed, and prepare for siege defense.”

Father takes a moment to find his words, before answering, “that… is not a bad plan. When did my boy become such a strategist?” He smiles with pride before his face grows serious, “alright. We shall do as you said. This will not be easy, though. Our guard is not such a large force. They will be spread thin, especially if we lose some to poison.”

The rest debate on tactics for some time. I don’t care for it so much, and get up to leave the room.

I go to seek Baudouin out, my thoughts on tonight.