It was not the most lavish party that Prince Tolké had ever thrown, but it was his favorite kind; half the guests were people he already knew and liked, and the other half were strangers. Or at least friends of friends. He didn’t often strike up conversations with those he had no prior connection, but he took great pleasure in meeting new people.
There was music, of course, played by a selection of the most popular and talented instrumentalists from court assembled in a corner of the centermost chamber, where they would be easily heard throughout the suite of rooms. The young prince himself even joined them with his own strings and flutes; at least early in the night, before he had drunk much. They played mostly peaceful, slow melodies fit for the background to conversation, but now and then they indulged in lively tunes that the guests could dance to, with quick hand drumming and small, high-toned cymbals.
Prince Tolké always put aside his instruments for the faster songs, as he loved to dance. As host, he decided which dances to call out, whether partnered, or in a circle, or even for each to do on their own. The people of Uspalar knew many dances of all kinds, especially in the royal city of Aldren. It was not considered a real party unless there was dancing. There were some whose steps everybody knew by heart since childhood, and even if you were at a wedding or some feast surrounded by strange faces, you could still join in and dance alongside them like old friends.
After one such spirited dance, Tolké let himself fall onto a nearby sofa to catch his breath, laughing merrily.
“You are in high spirits tonight, my lord,” his friend Pel remarked with a smirk on her red painted lips as he landed beside her. “What is the occasion? Are we celebrating something?”
“Quite the opposite,” Tolké shook his head with a bright sigh, plucking an unclaimed cup from a nearby table. “Tonight is a distraction. To forget.”
“Forget what?”
The young prince did not answer right away, as he was drinking the entire contents of the cup in one draught. Once it was empty, he placed it back where it was, already looking for another.
“I took the exam again today.”
“I will not ask you any further questions.”
“You are merciful,” Tolké chuckled and bowed his head gratefully. “I will face the consequences when it is time, and no sooner, heaven willing.”
“Heaven willing,” Pel echoed, lifting her cup a little as if toasting. “I do not envy your position. I may not even try to retake the exam at all.”
“Was your father satisfied with your results?”
“Be fair,” she scoffed, finishing her drink. “I did not interrogate you.”
“Very well,” the prince chuckled apologetically, handing her another full cup from the table. “Drink and enjoy.”
He got to his feet, but did so too quickly, and had to steady himself on the arm of the sofa until the floor stopped reeling back and forth. He scoffed at himself; was he this drunk already? He wasn’t even sure what “already” meant; he knew it was at least past midnight, but beyond that, he had no sense of what time it was. He had not counted cups or songs. Making his way back to the main room of his suite, he greeted guests as he passed, secretly collecting their smiles. Even if he hadn’t done well on the civil service exam, he knew he had other skills, such as entertaining. He prided himself on never forgetting names or faces, and usually knew at least one thing about each person he met. He comforted himself in the knowledge his brother could not say the same.
His elder brother; the king. There he stood now, in the middle of the room. He wore no crown upon his head, but the gold of his royal medallion gleamed from his chest, and those who caught sight of it moved to the side, bowing low and quieting. Soon the whole room was hushed, like a smothered candle, leaving only whispers and wisps of smoke. Word must have reached the other rooms as well, because it was only a moment before the music fell silent.
“My lord,” Tolké bowed as well, surprised to see his brother at one of his parties. “I am pleased that you have joined us tonight.” He began to look for a drink to offer, but the king’s voice cut his endeavor short.
“Tonight?” King Gaon repeated, a mocking edge to his voice. He strode over to the window, pulling aside the heavy drape and pushing the shutter open to spill bright sunlight into the room.
Many of the guests gasped and exclaimed softly at the sign of daylight; Prince Tolké was not the only one to have lost grasp of time. Some, whether by sleepiness or drunkenness, slowly ambled towards the door, while others hastily gathered their belongings and left the prince’s suite.
The king said nothing as they went, not even casting an eye towards them; he stood firmly with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on his younger brother. Tolké also said nothing for a moment. Gaon made him rather anxious, but he did his best to disguise his unease.
“I wish you had come earlier,” he began, smiling politely. “We could have had a drink together.”
“You’re drunk,” Gaon declared in a flat tone.
“I am not.”
The older brother gestured toward the younger with a look of disapproval, causing the young prince to turn toward one of his many carved lacquer mirrors. His reflection was not quite what he had expected; his dark brown hair was ruffled, his angular cheeks were pink, and his sleeveless summer tunic would have been entirely open in the front if not for the pair of sashes tied around his waist.
“I always look like this,” he laughed with ease, although he adjusted the hem of his shirt so it covered more of his bare chest.
Gaon did not waste any time to contradict him; he just let out a slow and steady sigh and stroked his beard. Now that they were alone, he got to the point of his visit.
“You took the civil service exam yesterday.”
“I did.” Prince Tolké meandered over to one of the tables of refreshments in search of breakfast. Sesame buns with apricot filling would do nicely.
“Well?”
“You know we do not hear about our scores for at least a few days.”
“That may be true for most people, but I already spoke to the ministers.”
Taking his time to eat the pastry, Tolké kept his back toward his brother. It seemed the consequences were upon him earlier than he had hoped.
“Well?” Gaon said again. Although the king did not raise his voice, the prince winced a little at his impatient tone.
“If you spoke to them, then surely you know how I fared.” Tolké rolled his eyes, only doing so because his face was hidden.
“Of course I know. How do you feel you did?”
“I’ve done worse,” the prince finally turned to face him, licking the sweet, sticky pastry filling off his fingers and hoping his smile would appear more amused than smug.
As usual, Gaon’s tired face was set into a grim expression. He stared at his younger brother for a moment, then set to opening the rest of the shutters in the large room. The light revealed the evidence of the long, late party that left the chamber in an untidy state. Cushions were strewn about the floor, and cups in varying states of emptiness sat on every surface, from the window sills to the prince’s many shelves.
Seeing the king doing a servant’s work, Tolké began to busy himself as well, gathering the floor cushions and stacking them off to one side. Gaon loved to play games like this to put him in unusual situations. It was not the first time he had begun a task with the sole purpose of forcing Tolké to do the same out of respect for the crown. Once all the windows were open, and the room began to warm with the summer sun, Gaon paused in front of one the book cases thoughtfully.
“You have many volumes,” he remarked. “Histories and philosophies… and no shortage of great stories and poems. Some are even in our mother’s tongue. Have you read them all?”
“Not all,” Tolké replied, lounging atop the pile of cushions he had just made. “But most.”
“And you were under the instruction of some of the finest tutors in the Holy Empire.”
The prince did not reply, sensing that a scolding was building up. He sat quietly, fiddling with a gold ring on his finger.
“Given your rather fine and… expensive education,” the king now left the shelf to near his younger brother. “How do you explain your failure?”
“Failure?” Tolké repeated, sitting up, his eyes wide. “On the exam? I couldn’t have done that badly-”
“Compared to the others, you failed.”
“That is hardly fair,” he stood to face Gaon. To his benefit, he was taller, so despite ten years between them, the older brother was forced to look up to the younger.
“Ah, fairness,” the king chuckled dryly, poking at the gold medallion on Tolké’s bare chest. “A system that benefits you in every way. An exam that any citizen may attempt in order to earn titles and offices; but perhaps their parents will have a difficult year or two while they study and prepare.” He paused very briefly, but when Tolké said nothing, he continued, his voice rising. “So you, born the son of a king, then brother of a king for the last twelve years, have been given every opportunity - the dedicated attention of legal experts, governors, ministers, and scholars. You have no fields to plow nor shop to keep. You have nothing but time and money and still-”
King Gaon stopped himself, as he was nearly shouting now. He took a step backward to compose himself. Tolké noticed that his hands were shaking, but he did not have anything to say in his own defense.
“So it comes to this,” Gaon went on, his voice more even now, but his brow was still lowered into a scowl. “Although you are no longer a child, you will not be a man for a few months still. If, by your twentieth birthday you have not made significant improvement-”
“Improvement?” Tolké was aghast. “In my exam results?”
“That is one measurable way to see. If you can show me in other ways that you have grown, then you certainly may.”
“Or what?”
“Or I will have no choice but to choose another as my heir.”
“A declared heir?” the prince scoffed, crossing his arms.
“I would rather have a well-prepared declared heir than a natural heir that doesn’t even know what day it is. My counselors would never approve of me declaring you as you are now.”
“Who would they approve of?”
“I don’t know yet,” the king shook his head. “I would have to consult with them. And of course the ministers, based on who has done well on the exam. That is essentially its purpose, after all.” He turned to leave, but Tolké grabbed his arm.
“Gaon, please. If you pass me over as heir…”
“You really want it?” the king raised an eyebrow. “You want the responsibility?”
“It would be embarrassing - no, shameful. For our family.”
“No,” Gaon corrected. “It would be shameful for you. To keep you as my heir as you are now would be shameful for the family.” As if to punctuate his point, he looked all around the room at the evidence of the previous night strewn about.
“You want to exchange my gold medallion for silver because of an exam? And parties?”
“If you think that is all there is to it, then I am only affirmed in my decision.” Without another word, the king turned and left the suite.
----------------------------------------
Captain Droln had only been in Aldren for a short while before managing to secure a post among the city guard. After a few days posted upon the city wall or at busy corners, he was instructed to stand at the royal palace gate with three others; two city guards and two palace guards in total.
Droln felt no need to hide his curiosity as he peered into the garden and the grand palace beyond. It was quite different from the white palace in the holy city of Iranása that he had once passed daily. This one was built out of golden-red sandstone, and several enormous domes crowned the structure. Precisely cut tiles of every color were arranged in patterns of flowers and stars along the borders of the countless arches and doorways.
The garden looked like the tapestry of Paradise that hung in the great hall of the temple - trees bearing fruit grew in abundance - oranges, plums, lemons, and dates; white peacocks wandered the garden and perched beside glittering fountains, and the gated enclosure of the elephants could be seen beyond the grove of palm trees that grew in rows like stately pillars. Those that lived in the palace strolled the pathways in pairs and groups, dressed in brightly colored silks.
The head of the knights of the king’s order, a man of great stature named Sir Emyal Usul, had just come into view within the garden. He was garbed in his sun crested armor as always, and strode from post to post, speaking to the royal guards under his command. Droln had met him when he was instated as a city guard, and he found him impressive; not only was he tall, but he had keen eyes that seemed to shine like wise stars from his dark, noble face. From his neat braids in rows to the scrupulously polished plate armor that suited his broad frame, he was every inch a knight, and commanded respectful bows from all who answered to him. Although now it was Sir Emyal that bowed, and Droln’s gaze flew to the one who approached the knight.
A youth with a bright smile neared him, and although any sign of an heir’s gold medallion was obscured by many large peony blossoms in his arms, Droln was certain that it was Prince Tolké.
“That is the king’s brother?” Droln asked one of the palace guards.
“You must be new to Aldren, Captain,” she observed. “And not only from your northern accent. Most people here would recognize Prince Tolké.”
“A true prince of the people,” the other city guard remarked. “He often ventures out into the streets to join the festivals.”
“He is young,” Droln mused.
“Not yet twenty,” the first palace guard agreed.
“Are you sure?” the other doubted.
“If Prince Tolké had come of age,” she reasoned. “There would have been a banquet so grand that every district in the city would make a holiday of it.”
Captain Droln was hardly listening, as he looked through the garden gates to observe the prince with curiosity, despite him being too far to hear what he and Sir Emyal were saying. Prince Tolké was tall and slender, with an upright, self-sure posture and an easy stance. Like the others that lived at court, he wore colorful silk in billowing robes; even at a distance they seemed to be embroidered with great detail, and he wore gold bracelets and earrings that glimmered in the southern sun. Droln wondered what the enormous pink flowers were for, guessing that perhaps he was bringing them from the gardens to adorn his private rooms.
Sir Emyal bowed again and the prince went merrily on his way. Watching him retreat, Droln wished that he could learn more, but without hearing him speak he was limited only to the prince’s appearance. His thoughts were interrupted as Sir Emyal neared them.
The four guards bowed as the knight stopped just on the other side of the gate to speak to them.
“My lord Prince Tolké is hosting a duel tournament here tomorrow,” he announced. “He wishes to extend the invitation to any palace or city guards who will be available. It will begin at noon in the west courtyard.”
They nodded their bows again as he went on his way.
“I will be posted at St. Mykos square then!” the other city guard lamented once Sir Emyal had left them. “Perhaps I can find someone to take my post.”
“I doubt it,” the short palace guard shook her head. “Most everyone will want to attend the tournament.”
“There is a prize?” Droln wondered, as they all seemed eager to participate.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Just a little money,” the city guard shrugged. “But that isn’t the point.”
“It is a chance to get noticed,” the skinny palace guard explained. “Either by Sir Emyal, to begin training in the hopes of becoming a knight-”
“Or by a member of the court,” the city guard finished, beaming. “The tournaments are a very popular spectacle.”
"It would certainly be cheaper than hiring a matchmaker anyway.”
Droln remained quiet, allowing them to chatter and boast among themselves as he contemplated the opportunity. Luckily, he was not due to any post until evening tomorrow, so he was free to at least attend, if not join in. It would be a chance to get a glimpse into life within the palace walls. And as Prince Tolké was hosting the event, it seemed he would be there as well.
“You graduated from that academy up north, didn’t you?” the city guard interrupted his thoughts. “Did you study swordplay there?”
Droln nodded, but they continued to stare at him as if he had failed to answer the question.
“Well?” the skinny palace guard prompted. “Are you any good?”
----------------------------------------
"He is quite good," Tolké remarked to Sir Emyal quietly, his eyes on the new city guard that had just won a duel against one of the knights. “What is his name?”
“Captain Droln Erapel. He just graduated from the academy in Iranása.”
“Very impressive. Is he from there?”
“From Yannua, my lord,” the knight shook his head.
Tolké continued to watch Droln, despite another duel having begun. He was intrigued by the newcomer and admired his skill in swordplay.
“I think I will challenge him,” the prince said at last, surprising Sir Emyal.
“You mean to face Droln Erapel?” The captain of the knights replied, raising an eyebrow but keeping his tone polite. “As part of the tournament?”
“Yes, I know he is far better than I,” Tolké chuckled. “I’m not trying to win. I want to see him up close.” With that, he made his way across the courtyard to where the captain waited patiently to be called again.
Droln had not expected that Prince Tolké would take notice of him so quickly, but he bowed respectfully as he was approached. Seeing how bright and friendly the prince was surprised him; Droln had assumed he would be aloof and haughty.
“Well done, Captain,” Tolké commended warmly. “Will you face me next?”
“With pleasure,” Droln replied, and the prince smiled, standing beside him to wait for their turn.
Droln looked him over sideways, to see what more there was to learn from when he had first seen him in the garden. The prince was just as well dressed as before, and seemed to favor gold jewelry and jasmine scented perfume.
It seemed that in many ways they were the opposite of one another. While Prince Tolké was tall, slender and fair, like the boughs of a willow, Droln was stocky and broad, with a deep bronze complexion. He wondered if the prince was incapable of growing a beard, or just preferred not to, but as for himself, even if he were to shave, his jaw would be shadowed by dusk. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t even picture facial hair of any kind on the youth beside him, as his features were delicate and soft. His playfully tousled hair was dark, but if one looked closely, many golden strands could be found, like secret kisses from the sun. Droln couldn’t help but feel there was more to him than a well-maintained public façade.
When it was their turn to duel, Sir Emyal beckoned to them and the prince removed his outer robe in preparation, revealing a sleeveless summer tunic beneath; Droln noted that upon the skin of the prince’s right shoulder was a tattoo in the image of the sun, with its long rays extending down his arm a ways. He knew it was both the emblem of the kingdom and the royal family, but he was not sure which of the two it was meant to represent in this case.
They took their positions to begin the duel, and at Sir Emyal’s signal, they began. Prince Tolké’s stance was well practiced and proper, as well as the way he held the practice sword, but it was clear to Droln that other than those starting elements and the prince’s natural grace, he was hardly a formidable opponent. Although Droln knew he could end the duel swiftly, he made a few moves after a brief delay in order to allow the prince time to react and block the attacks. However, he knew that Prince Tolké was watching him just as carefully, so he did not draw the match out much longer. As Droln made the final move, he wondered how easy it would be to achieve victory without mercy.
Upon his defeat, the prince laughed good-naturedly and offered a hand to Droln to congratulate him. Droln extended his own hand to shake, remembering that here in the south, it was three quick shakes, punctuated by a nod of the head.
Releasing their hold on one another, the two of them moved aside to make way for the next pair, and although Droln placed himself with enough distance between them that the prince could go on his way without causing any offense, Tolké remained nearby.
“Which island of Yannua are you from?” he wondered.
“Helon, my lord,” Droln replied.
“Ah, I have family there,” the prince smiled. “Well, I suppose I have family everywhere. Even outside the Holy Empire.”
“In Aris?”
“Yes, even in Aris. My elder sister Miriel married someone up there… the queen’s nephew, perhaps. I was very young then, and of course I have not seen her since.”
“Of course,” the captain replied softly. He could not imagine the king ever granting permission for the prince to cross that border; the marriage was evidently not successful in strengthening ties between the kingdoms. He wondered how Tolké felt about losing his sister that way, as the way he spoke about her was very matter-of-fact.
Droln was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his name, as another captain challenged him to a duel. The prince nodded to encourage him, even nudging him forward; he was already treating him like a friend of several months, if not years. Droln was barely engaged in the duel, allowing his countless hours of training to lead his body as he continued to keep an eye on the prince. This opponent was better than the others he had faced so far, so he was forced to concentrate for a moment to put an end to their match.
Upon his victory, Droln realized that more of the spectators were paying attention to him now. Other guards and captains watched him, likely plotting the course of their own matches against him, and lords and ladies of the court murmured praise of his skill from the mezzanine above.After several rounds and many matches, Droln was declared the winner of the tournament. Sir Emyal even nodded a sort of bow at his victory; perhaps there was a chance that Droln might begin the path to knighthood after all.
“Congratulations, Captain,” the prince approached with a bright smile, looking truly proud of Droln. “Well done.”
“Thank you, my lord,” the captain bowed deeply, pleased with his success. He had hoped to do well, of course, but he was not so proud that he assumed he would be the victor.
The prince looked as if he were going to say something else, but kept it to himself, silently ending their conversation by starting away. But he seemed to change his mind once more, turning back toward Droln.
“Where will you be posted tomorrow?”
“Upon the city wall,” he replied. “The eastern wall.”
Hearing this, Prince Tolké merely nodded, finally leaving the courtyard.
Droln thought nothing of this, and even forgot about it altogether until the next morning when he was stationed at his post and a figure approached him from the far tower. Although he did not know him well, it was easy to distinguish Prince Tolké by his carefree gait and confident bearing; the bright green and blue silk trimmed in glass beads that sparkled in the high sun only helped confirm his identity. When the prince could tell that Droln saw him, he waved to him in greeting, even hastening to a light run until he was near.
“Good day, my lord,” Droln bowed, surprised that he had come all this way just to see him.
“Captain!” the prince trotted to a stop. “I... May I use your familiar name?” He waited hopefully for confirmation, smiling when it was granted. “Mm. Droln. I spoke with Sir Emyal Usul; we both think you are an excellent candidate for knighthood. He is willing to take you on as a student! Well? Tell me your thoughts.”
It took Droln a moment to even understand what was being said, as Prince Tolké’s demeanor was so cheerful and enthusiastic that it was nearly distracting. Some might find his mannerisms irritating, Droln decided, but he found a refreshing charm in the way he spoke and carried himself.
“I am honored,” he said at last, and before he even tried to think of anything more, the prince had begun again.
“Excellent,” Tolké crossed his arms, pleased. “Now. I am hosting a small banquet this evening in my private suite. I would be delighted if you would attend. I just received a long expected order of ferasa.” Noticing the captain’s look of bewilderment, he quickly apologized. “Forgive me, I forgot you are new to Aldren. Ferasa, plum and pomegranate wine. A favorite here. I insist you try some, but I will be sure to provide some ale or other northern brew that you might be more used to.”
“You are very kind, my lord,” Captain Droln began, a little uneasy, but he pressed on. “But you must excuse me. I do not partake in drink.”
This reply gave Tolké pause, blinking a few times. Droln felt as if he were watching the words enter his mind; he couldn’t help but wonder if this might put some irreversible distance between them, but the prince shook his head a little, dismissing the excuse.
“You will be welcome anyway. You must come.”
“Very well,” Droln couldn’t help smiling at his kind insistence.
“Ah, I thought your eyes were brown,” Prince Tolké seemed to realize suddenly. “But now that I see them closer, I see they are more like amber. Nearly golden in the sunlight.”
The captain nodded, unsure of what to say in reply, but the prince was already on to the next topic.
“I imagine you’ll be knighted in a year or two. I will help in any way I can, of course.”
“Help me?” the captain lifted his chin, suspicious. “What for?”
“I like helping people,” the prince shrugged, but when he saw that his reason was too flimsy, he sighed. “You don’t trust too easily. That’s commendable.”
Droln waited for him to continue.
“Mm. In fact you just may be perfect,” Tolké narrowed his eyes, resting his chin on a hand that bore several gold and jeweled rings.
The captain let out an embarrassed chuckle at the bold statement, avoiding the young prince’s intent gaze.
“Truly,” he insisted. “Perfect for my plan against my brother.”
Droln was surprised to hear him declare any sentiment that would oppose the king; from what he had heard about him, Prince Tolké was supposedly neither politically minded nor scheming. He returned his attention back to the prince’s face to let him know he was listening.
“I ought to tell you what the plan is,” he began, taking a step nearer, his large, angular eyes alight with mischief. “Seeing that it involves you. My brother - the king, of course - has threatened to pass me over as his heir. He says I am too... well, a great many things, but he says I am not serious enough.”
“And the plan?”
“Well, you’re rather serious. I mean that as a sincere compliment, of course. You are older than me, that may help. I don’t know whether you are particularly scholarly or not, but judging by your lovely accent, you have at least learned a new language. You just finished a captain’s training at the best military academy in the Holy Empire. Soon to be a knight, as I said. And you don’t even drink! If Gaon notices you in my company, he’s bound to take me more seriously.”
Droln stroked his beard as he considered this proposal; it was a fairly ridiculous plan as far as he was concerned. From their little interaction so far, he judged that the prince was genuine in his suggestion, truly believing the mere presence of a respectable person in his social circle would change the king’s mind. Was such a thing even possible? Perhaps, but not very likely. And yet, it required very little effort on Droln’s part. He would be able to enjoy the benefits of a friendship with the center of high society without having to do anything other than continue his efforts toward knighthood, which of course he already had his sights set on. It was possible that some downside would present itself further down the line; perhaps Prince Tolké was more clever than he was letting on, and there was some catch, but Droln could not imagine anything unfavorable enough to warrant refusing such an offer. And if the plan failed and the king thought no better of his brother, Droln could not be held responsible; if Droln failed to rise in rank, he would be no worse off than without the prince’s aid. All in all, Droln felt that he was taking advantage of Tolké, and yet it had been the prince himself that had made the proposal.
“Alright,” Droln agreed. “Seems that we both win.”
“Something like that. Otherwise, I’ll have to take that wretched exam again.” As he spoke, he casually hoisted himself up to sit on the ledge of the wall. Without even thinking, Droln grabbed hold of him by the arm, fearfully glancing down to the rocky ground far below.
His movement seemed to startle the prince, who stared at him with wide eyes, unmoving. They remained still for a moment, the prince sitting upon the ledge and the captain standing on the wall, their arms clasped. Droln could feel Tolké’s quickened pulse where he held him at his inner elbow; his own heart was pounding as well. It was a foolish place to climb, but the prince was confident enough in his own balance that he didn’t even consider the danger. And it was dangerous enough that Droln failed to consider that they were not only strangers, but of different social levels. At last Tolké relented, hopping down from the ledge, looking only a little ashamed of himself.
“Forgive me, my lord,” Droln released him, bowing humbly. “I overstepped.”
“No,” Tolké dismissed his apology. “You have good and noble instincts. I will see you tonight.”
----------------------------------------
It was easy enough to find the prince’s private suite, as Droln had been instructed to find the door that was carved with the images of deer among birch trees. The many voices coming from the other side only affirmed that he had found the right place, so he let himself in. The main room was rather large, but very pleasant and cozy; it was in the same style as many of the other rooms in the royal palace that he had passed through so far, with red sandstone columns and high ceilings, but this room felt more personal. Small trinkets were to be found in every nook and cranny, indicating memories or perhaps souvenirs. There were seashells with gold painted edges, miniature statues of horses, and tiny boxes that held mysteries. It almost looked like the studio of a sorcerer or wizard, and it was easy to imagine that many of the items were indeed enchanted, but Droln caught a glimpse of a shrine in between some of the book cases and then decided that perhaps the prince was too religious to be interested in magic. The shrine was closed, but he guessed that perhaps it housed a statue of Orshin-Ki, the goddess of fortune; someone that had a fondness for gold was likely to pray to her.
Coming further inside, he looked around at the dozen or so other guests present, hoping to see a face that he at least recognized. Everyone there was dressed splendidly in southern style clothing that wrapped across the front, as well as the two sashes tied around the waist that all citizens of the Holy Empire wore. Droln himself owned mainly northern style shirts that fastened up the center, but he wore a nice enough garment now that he at least didn’t stand out too much; his sashes were fairly plain compared to the others, and he realized that if he were going to be spending more time among members of court, he would need some new clothes. Soon the prince noticed his arrival, coming to greet him gladly.
“Droln, you’re here,” he approached with open arms. He was somehow even more ornately dressed than any of the other times Droln had seen him so far, with elaborate dangling earrings and so much gold embroidery on his tunic that it looked like several necklaces upon his chest. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
“I said I would.”
“And you’re a man of your word, I see. Let me find you something to drink.”
“Tea is fine,” Droln said quickly, in case the prince had forgotten that he wouldn’t be drinking. “Chilled, if you have it.”
“I have everything,” the prince grinned. “I’ll just be a moment.”
He crossed the room to the extravagant tiered buffet covered in platters, punch bowls, and carafes, looking over the selection of pitchers nestled in a tub of snow until he found one containing a reddish brown liquid with lemon slices floating in it. He poured some into a ceramic cup with silver on the rim, bringing it to Droln.
“I hope you like it. Oh, Yurí!” he called to a well-dressed woman with short golden hair passing by, causing her and another to pause and join him. “I wanted to introduce you to Captain Droln Erapel.”
“Droln, this is my sister-in-law, Princess Yurí, and her attendant Lady Andra.”
Droln bowed to the ladies who returned the greeting. He of course knew that once he joined the prince’s social circle, he was sure to meet members of court, including royalty, but he was amazed that he had hardly been in Aldren for two weeks and he had already met two of the king’s closest relatives.
“We saw you at the duel tournament yesterday,” the princess remarked. “Congratulations on your victory.”
“Sir Emyal has agreed to take him on as a student,” Tolké announced proudly, even placing a hand on the captain’s shoulder.
“In pursuit of knighthood?” Lady Andra nodded a little, impressed. “I wish you the very best, Captain. It is a difficult path.”
“Having seen him at swordplay,” Princess Yurí countered. “I believe he’s capable enough for such a role. The real challenge would be to win over my husband.”
“Then perhaps my lord Prince Tolké could be of some help,” Droln suggested, but he was met with laughter from all three, as if he had told a clever joke.
“In that case,” the prince chuckled. “Then you would certainly have no choice but to join a lesser order of knighthood. Ah, my cup is empty; will anyone else be needing more to drink?”
“I’d rather something to eat,” the princess took a step as if to follow him, but her attendant volunteered instead.
“There is lamb stuffed with barley and olives, as well as vinegar and herb cucumbers,” she declared.
“Thank you, Andra,” Princess Yurí smiled. “That will do nicely. She knows just what I like,” she remarked to Droln as Lady Andra and the prince went off to the grand display of refreshments. “In fact, sometimes it seems like she knows just about everything. There is a lot to keep track of in court; I would never be able to do it on my own. Ah, don’t worry,” she encouraged, seeing Droln’s concerned face. “Tolké knows a little bit of something about everyone too. You’re lucky to be favored by him.”
“Does he do this often?” the captain wondered. “Choose someone and… help them?”
“He’s very generous,” she nodded. “Some of the people in this room found their place in court thanks to him. It can be difficult without help.”
“Then I am grateful,” Droln agreed. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a scholar; the civil service exam would be an insurmountable obstacle for me.”
“It is for many,” she looked toward the prince, who was now returning with a freshly filled glass and a plate, which he held out to Droln.
“This is one of my favorites,” he said of the flatbread and grayish-brown sort of pulp beside it.
“Thank you,” Droln took it, not wanting to be rude, but he hesitated. “What is it?”
“Mainly eggplant.”
“Ah, so it is a plant?” he inspected it, much to the amusement of the others. “I don’t eat meat,” he explained quickly, feeling foolish.
“You don’t have eggplant in the north?” Princess Yurí looked to her attendant.
“Not as far north as the captain is from,” Lady Andra smirked. “You might know it by its Kayuan name, oberjín.”
“Ah,” Droln nodded, feeling a little relieved now that the strange food had a name he had at least heard before. He ate some with the flatbread, and although the texture was just as foreign and mushy as it looked, he found that he quite liked the flavor, along with the herbs and spices it had been prepared with.
“You like it?” the prince had been watching his face for a reaction, and smiled when it seemed that his recommendation had been a success. “I’m so glad. Mm. Empty again.” He excused himself to refill his cup once more, and the princess looked to her attendant and sighed.
“There are a few people here I should greet,” she said to Droln. “Pleasure to meet you.”
He bowed to her and she went on her way, followed by Lady Andra.
“Good luck, Captain,” Lady Andra chuckled as she passed.
He found it odd that she seemed to be implying that the prince was in some way his responsibility, until Tolké returned, his cheeks now displaying a merry glow. It was early yet, and Droln decided it would be wise to steer the prince from the bountiful table of drinks that even now was being restocked by servants.
“What a lovely view,” he remarked, gesturing toward the open double doors.
“You should see it,” Tolké suggested, as if it were his idea, escorting the captain out onto the terrace. The private garden below was surrounded on all sides by wings of the palace, far from the eyes of those who passed by in the streets.
“It’s so quiet,” Droln remarked.
“The front garden is lovely, but I prefer this one myself,” the prince agreed, sipping his drink as he leaned on the rail. “It’s a good place for secrets.”
Droln tilted his head, not understanding what he meant until Tolké nodded toward a shadowy corner of the garden where it looked like a pair of lovers was meeting. Droln laughed and turned away, causing the prince to grin and shake his head. He finished his drink and set the now empty cup on the ledge; Droln decided to say something before he had a chance to go back inside for more.
“Is it heavy?” he asked, looking at the gold medallion that hung from Tolké’s neck.
“This?” he lifted it from his chest a little. “Not particularly. And I suppose I’m used to it anyway. I wear a lot of gold.”
This was all too true; even now his earrings, several rings, bangles, and other trinkets glimmered warm yellow. The captain shook his head with a smirk.
“I mean to ask if it is a burden.”
“Oh.” The prince hoisted himself upon the ledge, much like he had done upon the wall that afternoon. It was a far shorter height, so Droln did not stop him this time. “Being my brother’s heir, you mean. I don’t give it much thought, really.”
Droln said nothing at first, furrowing his brow a little at the remark. The prince had asked for his help to appear more serious in the eyes of the king, but he was not sure if it was quite his place to tell him what to do.
“Perhaps you should,” he suggested in as light a tone as he could manage, carefully lifting himself up to sit beside him. “What if something were to happen to your brother? He has no children, after all.”
“I don’t like to think about it,” Tolké retorted, in a sharper voice than Droln had heard from him yet. But when he looked at the prince’s face, he saw that it was fear in his eyes, rather than anger.
“Never mind,” Droln dismissed the topic. He thought it odd that the prince neither felt the burden of responsibility nor thought about what might happen if the crown should fall upon his head, and yet was determined not to be passed over by his brother.
“I need another drink,” he announced, hopping down from the ledge.
“Are you sure?” Droln tried, hoping he wasn’t being too forward.
“Yes,” the prince said, very seriously, before winking and going back inside.