Chapter Seventeen: The Palace

What was he thinking? Teller still didn’t know what overcame him. The Palace of the King was the last place anyone would want to go to. Teller knew very well the dangers inside. Hearing about both Finneas and Kenelm’s encounter with the guards, especially Kenelm’s interrogation from a Sensor, getting caught was the last thing he wanted. Getting caught back in the orphanage the only punishment he’d receive was a stern warning, and maybe the cane. This, however, was completely different. The palace was going to be swarming with Sensors. He had heard rumours the Governor was a member of the Order. And Malakos had apprentices – young people training to become Sensors. Teller had already crossed paths with a Sensor before, back in the orphanage. What if that person was there now residing in the palace? Would he recognise him? His spine prickled at the thought.

Teller spent the entire night worrying about the task ahead of him. He wished his friend Kenelm could go with him. Teller, however, realised his friend would only get in the way, and cause even more suspicion. It didn’t help that Kenelm looked similar in appearance to the Governor looked alike if reports were to be believed. Teller had come to the terms he would have to do this by himself. He wished he had the same courage as his sister – Mollie wouldn’t even flinch at doing something like this.

The boy waited at the table. He nervously played with the buckles on his overalls. Usually, this was something Kenelm would do. Teller was still in mid-through when Brother Hextor sat down on the other side of the table. He had briefly talked to the scholar before – the man walked into the room while Teller was sorting out the king’s library. For once in his entire life, he had found someone as enthusiastic over books as he. Teller could imagine talking to the man about all his favourite tomes for hours. He found it difficult to find other people in reading books. Not even the librarians back in Angluem enjoyed reading.

“So, you know what book we need to find,” the man asked.

“The History of the Goblin Tongue… first edition,” Teller answered. “It’s in Palatinian – the language of the Imperials.”

“You know how to read it?”

“A bit,” Teller replied. “The actual title should say Lupitos Linga Historia.”

“Good, good,” Brother Hextor. “And you say you’re from… what was…”

“Angluem,” Teller answered. “There were a few books written in Palatinian. It’s quite easy to pick up.”

“As Staphan has already told you, we’ve found a pair of servant clothes. That shouldn’t draw any suspicion.”

“What if someone asks me?” Teller asked. “What do I do then?”

“Try not to get in a situation in which you have to talk,” the man explained. Brother Hextor rolled out a large map onto the table. It was the blueprint for the Palace of Kings, showing every room. "You should enter from the east – reports say there are fewer guards. You should be able to sneak in without drawing too much attention.”

“Sounds easy.”

“Sadly, there’s no way to directly enter the governor’s quarters, where his own personal library resides,” Brother Hextor continued to explain. “You will have to go to the palace’s foyer first, make your way down the Hallway of the Hammers, and then into the throne room. Pretend to be cleaning. No one will question you.”

“Again… what if they do.”

"Just nod and continue your tasks," the man responded. "Sweep the floor. Again, they won’t question the presence of a servant.”

Teller was still nervous about the prospect of being questioned. He wondered if his Estmere accent would give him away. He knew the guards were on the lookout for any kids from Angluem. Hopefully, the scholar was right, and acting the part of a servant would avoid all suspicion.

“There is a passageway off the throne room that should take you to the governor’s quarter,” Brother Hextor pointed to the map. “The library is on the third door to the left.”

Teller studied the map, making sure to remember exactly where to go. He was pretty good at remembering things. Teller quickly got changed into the servant’s uniform. They were a far cry from the dungarees he usually wore. The clothes seemed fairly new. Teller rarely got new clothes. Most often he would be given hand-me-downs – Teller was wearing Kistoph’s old overalls.

Staphan’s son Jasher helped direct Teller to the Palace of Kings. The older boy was only able to take Teller as far as the market district. The palace was a massive structure, it could be seen from all across the city. Brother Hextor was right, there was no way he was going to get through the front entrance, even with a servant’s uniform. Guard lined up again the two large metal doors. Instead, he was going to have to go around the building and find one of the servant entrances, as the scholar had instructed. While the left side of the building was highly guarded, the other side – the side facing the temple district – had far fewer guards. Positioned between the Palace of Kings and the Eternal River was a reasonable-sized garden. Teller had read about this garden before – the Riverland’s only queen regent Alacia planted it during her short reign. At the south end of the garden was a hedge maze, which Teller could use as a shortcut.

Teller looked around to see if he could see any guards. Satisfied he wasn’t being watched, Teller crawled through a bush and into the hedge maze. Wiping off the dirt and soil that had gotten on him, he wandered through the maze. He was expecting the maze a confusing labyrinth. Luckily, however, it was rather easy to navigate. He quickly made his way to the exit.

Using a pathway, passing through the small field of flowers, Teller approached one of the side entrances. Much to his relief, no one was waiting around the entrance. No one was going to notice him slip into the building. Teller was not too keen, nor prepared, to explain why he was wandering around the garden. Not only was he still unsure about his accent, and whether someone would pick up on Teller being from Estmere, he still hadn’t come up with an excuse in case he was approached. Teller wished he was more like his friends – Kenelm was better at coming up with excuses. Even his sister was better at lying.

Teller walked promptly down what seemed like endless hallways. Although he had remembered the layout of the building, he could understand how someone could get lost. Wandering through Angleum was no different, Teller was used to it. He quickly glanced into one of the rooms, the Palace’s kitchen. The food smelled delicious.

Before he could even turn around and leave the room, someone tapped him on his shoulder. He turned around, somewhat stunned. A young man, perhaps in his late teens or early twenties, stared intensely at Teller. He could sense the person’s bewilderment. He could tell the young servant was trying to work out who he was.

“Are you lost?” the older boy asked.

“No…” Teller answered, trying to keep it simple. The older boy, however, probed further.

“What task have you been instructed to do?”

Teller wasn’t sure how to answer this. He remembered seeing some sweepers outside. That was the first that came to his head.

“Sweeping…” Teller explained. “I’ve been tasked to sweep the throne room.” Teller knew he would have to eventually walk through the building’s main hall.

“And you don’t have a broom?” the older boy said, disbelieving.

“I was looking for it.”

“In the Governor’s private library?”

“I think I left it here.” Teller turned around to look back into the room. To his luck, there was a broomstick leaning against one of the bookshelves. Teller thanked the Maker. “See! There it is.” He rushed to pick it up.

“Hurry up,” the older boy warned. “You don’t want to keep the Governor waiting.”

Teller decided it was best not to take another peek at another room, no matter how interesting it seemed. With the broomstick in hand, he made his way to the throne room. While he could have easily walked through the main hall, he realised he would look suspicious if he didn’t do any work. He began sweeping the hall. No one besides a few guards was in the large room, who were standing post at all the entrances and exits. Since Teller was dressed as a servant, no one bothered questioning his presence. he wondered just how lax the security here was anyway.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The boy had swept a good portion of the room. He was about to leave, making his way to the governor’s quarters when two people walked into the room. Teller didn’t look at them immediately. He kept his head low, hoping no one would pay attention. Once the two figures began talking, Teller was able to get a good glance at them. One of them was an older man. The man had a receding hairline. Remembering Finneas’s description, Teller quickly realised it was the Governor. The figure had his back turned to Teller. But Teller recognised the blond hair and the voice. It was Lucian, the boy who knocked Teller back against the wall in the orphanage. Teller could still feel the ache in his spine.

“Are you sure he’s your nephew?” Lucian asked. “When I met the boy… what was his name… Kennel, I didn’t see any resemblance.”

“No, he’s certainly my brother’s son,” the governor snapped. “The news my father had two sons… it is frightening the Order never found these two children.”

“I interview… er… your nephew, the younger boy,” Lucian explained. “He was, let’s just say, headstrong. Constantly getting in trouble with the authorities.”

“That sounds very much like my brother,” Governor Malakos remarked. “Is the younger boy still in Angluem.”

Lucian shook his head.

“The boy, along with a bunch of other children, went missing not long after interviewing him,” Lucian explained. “There have been sightings… no pun intended.”

“Sightings?”

“A smuggler claims to be blinded by the boy,” Lucian further clarified. “But you know what these outlaws are like. He even claims the boy killed one of his accomplices.”

“Good riddance,” the governor said. “The fewer criminals the better.”

“I have a question to ask,” Lucian asked. “With reports of this exiled king living in your city, why haven’t you flushed him out yet.”

“When you reach my age,” Governor Malakos explained, “Patience becomes your greatest virtue.”

“Virtues?”

For a moment, Malakos turned his eyes towards Teller. The boy quickly stared at the floor submissively. He continued sweeping the dirt into one pile, pretending to not hear what the Governor was saying.

“Let me tell you about the rise and fall of Crassi,” the governor said.

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“Of course, you haven’t,” the man laughed. “This was even before my time. Crassi lived almost a hundred years ago. He had recently defeated an invading force of savages from the northeast – a rebellious tribe. As the victor, he was rewarded with a triumph. This gave Crassi the confidence to take on bigger threats.”

“Shouldn’t we be prepared for threats,” Lucian asked.

“Yes… but the tribesmen were a threat, I know,” the governor continued. “But a free city close to our borders was not.”

“Free city? This close?”

“As surprising as it sounds, one city seemed allusive to Imperial control. Fiore, the city was called. You may have heard of it.”

“I think I do. Was Crassi the one to conquer it?”

“Yes… yes indeed,” Governor Malakos continued. “He took the city in the fortnight. This rewarded him with a rare second triumph. Crassi had enough wealth to leave a man comfortable. No man would ever have to work again.”

“He retired?”

The governor laughed.

“Of course not,” he continued. “Greed… greed happened. Crassi decided to take on the San people. With his own wealth, he mustered an army. He planned to invade the Sanland. The blessing of the ancestors was on his side. No one thought he could be defeated.”

“What happened?”

“At first, he made a dent into the Sanland, taking towns along the way. But before he could do anything meaningful, an army of San people descended upon him. He lost a battle and was forced to retreat. For a month his army was besieged in a town they had recently taken. When all was lost, the coward thought he could sneak out in the cover of darkness. A fool. His fellow soldiers caught him. They made a deal with the enemy, to trade their general for their safety. As a form of mockery, the San people forced Crassi to drink molten gold. The San princes watched as the man suffered.”

“Wouldn’t he be a sacrifice, then?” Lucian asked. “His death allowed his soldiers to return home.”

“The San princes saw an opportunity. He had made the deal,” the Sensor simply laughed, “but he wasn’t going to honour the deal. As Crassi’s former soldiers retreated, they were ambushed by the San people. Most men were slaughtered on sight. Those unlucky to die in the chaos were impaled along the San people’s city walls. Very few managed to escape. Very few know the story. We’re very good at avoiding our own history – a fatal flaw I must say.”

“What purpose of this story?” Lucian asked. Teller thought the same thing.

“The greatest victories are never won quickly,” the governor explained. “This exiled king… this Joses… he is but a flea to the mutt. In due time we will crush him and his cohorts. I will let him strike first. It will only be but a small nibble. Once he’s shown his true colours, we will crush him with the might of the Republic and of the Order. But until then, we must wait, or face the same fate as Crassi.”

“But Crassi went up against a foreign enemy?" Lucian retorted. "These are rebels in our own land."

“We are foreigners here,” Governor Malakos snapped. “Don’t you ever forget that?”

Again, Malakos turned his focus towards Teller, who was still sweeping the floors.

“Boy! Come here,” the governor instructed. With the broom still in his hand, Teller approached Malakos. “I have not seen you before.”

“I’m new,” Teller said simply.

“You are from Estmere?”

“Yeah… you can tell?”

“I am familiar with the Estmere’s accent.”

Teller’s heart began beating faster and faster. He was sure he was going to get caught. This was the last situation he wanted to be in. He had to quickly come up with an excuse and hope the man wouldn’t pick up on his lies.

“Been here for two years,” Teller fibbed. “My uncle got me a job here. He owns a catering business, you know.”

“I think I know who you are talking about. I will make sure to tell him you have done a great service,” the governor seemed to believe Teller’s lie.

Teller was shocked he had even succeeded. Surely, the Governor could’ve put two things together and realised who Teller was. He decided not to try his luck any further.

“Once you have finished sweeping the hall, make sure you also sweep my quarters,” the Governor continued.

Teller nodded obediently. The Governor and his apprentice continued talking as they left the main hall, making their way down the long corridor to the foyer. Teller quickly finished sweeping the throne room, before going to the governor’s quarters. The guards were happy enough to let the Teller pass. One less hurdle to jump over, he thought.

The boy swiftly walked down the hallway, avoiding the other servants. Teller didn’t want to risk any of them realising he wasn’t one of them. He noticed at least one maid – a native – carefully polishing a large vase. Another servant was sweeping the floor, just like Teller had been doing earlier.

As he made his way down the hallway, Teller quickly realised the layout of the Palace presented on the map wasn't exactly accurate. Clearly, rooms had been changed around since the map had been drawn. The room which was meant to be the library was simply a storage room. This forced Teller to glance into each room. To his dismay, there were no signs stating which rooms were what. Most of the rooms were empty bedrooms, although at least one of the rooms was an office. The Governor’s secretary briefly looked up as Teller quickly closed the door.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

The man didn’t respond, nor check who the boy was, so Teller guessed he was still safe and hadn’t been caught. He continued wandering down the hallway. He soon came upon the room he was looking for.

Teller had never seen so many books before. The library must have had at least fifty or so bookshelves, each being at least ten feet high. There were so many books, Teller felt he was in literary heaven. Although he wished he could spend many hours, browsing the numerous tomes, Teller was in a hurry. He had to find this book quickly before anyone noticed. Perhaps once King Joses had retaken the city, he could get a chance to look through the books, Teller pondered.

The boy quickly checked the reference book. At the front of the room was a book which gave an overall of what was contained in the library. This should help find this book quicker, Teller thought. Teller glanced down the list. Languages were on the bookshelf fourteen. He looked up, examining the numbers on each bookshelf, each written in Imperial numerals – a tally-like numbering system used all across the Republic.

Since the library was practically deserted, Teller was able to quickly look at each book without causing suspicion. Some of the books were rather old – they were falling apart at the seams. Other books were much newer. A few of the books were even hand-written – they were usually the older tomes. Teller eventually came across a book he had been tasked to find. Lupitos Linga Historia. It was a rather old book, bound in green leather. It was neatly hand-written. Teller gently placed the book under his shirt. Hopefully, he hoped, no one notices.

Having found the book, Teller didn’t need to be in the library any longer. While he would’ve loved to stay a bit longer, he knew he had to leave. Picking the broomstick that he’d left in the corner of the room; Teller carefully closed the door and hastily made his way back to the main hall. None of the guards bother interrupting Teller as traced his steps back to the servant’s quarter. However, as he was about to open the door to the kitchen, someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him aside. The sudden shock made Teller drop the broom.

It was Lucien.

“You may have fooled my master,” the sensor’s apprentice remarked, “but you won’t fool me.”

Teller tried to wiggle a way out of the older boy’s grip, but Lucian was too strong. Teller decided not to respond. He knew from his friend's first-hand experience that sensors weren’t someone to mess with. It was best not to say anything at all.

“You were the kid back in the orphanage,” Lucian observed. “You and your friends are playing a dangerous game.”

Again, Teller chose to say nothing. Teller kind of wished reading books would’ve prepared him for this. He felt a sickening feeling go down his gut. He hoped Lucian wouldn’t notice the book under his shirt.

“Return to your friend,” the older boy warned, “and tell them to leave Revitea City.”

“You’re letting me go?”

“It may sound strange, but I have no choice but to let you go,” Lucian explained. “Don’t take this as kindness. The Governor, nor the Order will be as forgiving.”

Lucien let go of Teller. The boy wasn’t sure how to exactly react. He stood still, shaking nervously.

“Go!” the sensor’s apprentice ordered.

Teller was too sure how to react. He sure didn’t want to suffer the wrath of the Order. Teller had no choice but to leave as instructed. What was he going to tell his friends? Were they really going to leave? And even if they didn’t, wouldn’t the order hunt them down anyway?

The boy walked through the kitchen, past the servant’s quarters, and finally out of the palace, sneaking out using the garden maze. He soon found Jasher waiting for him, leaning against one of the brick walls in a back alleyway. As they walked back, Teller recounted his experience.