"I, Crespin Reverdin, son of Jacques Reverdin do solemnly swear that I will in the future be faithful to His Royal Highness Ventian Aurelius, never cause him harm and will observe my homage to him completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit as his personal scribe. I acknowledge this great privilege bestowed upon me and pledge that I will do my utmost best to record the deeds of His Royal Highness in their full glory." My heart pounded with excitement as I recited the brief oath. A quick glance at the wizened High Chancellor standing beside the Prince reassured me that I had not messed anything up, based on the small nod of satisfaction directed at me. I let out a small sigh of relief as I continued kneeling before the royal presence in front of me, trying to ignore the curious stares of the gentry and palace staff alike as I awaited His Royal Highnesses' command to rise and begin my duties.

The silence in the hall lengthened as I began to wonder if I'd somehow misinterpreted the chancellor's reaction. Had I messed up? Impossible. I'd been practicing constantly for this moment ever since the marvelous news of my new appointment had reached me via palace courier a week ago. My mind raced as I struggled to come up with ideas of what I had done wrong in the few mere moments I was given to present myself to my new employer.

"Ahem, Your Highness." Clearing his throat, the same chancellor who nodded at me prior directed at the Prince, after more than a few people in the hall began to shift uncomfortably due to the awkward silence filling the room.

"Mmm?"

"Ahh perhaps now would be a good time to finish the ceremony and dismiss your guests, Your Highness?" The elderly chancellor prompted gently.

"But of course Savos, everything will happen in due time. Just one more sip of this fine Corellian vintage red and I'll dismiss everyone." The Prince had a silky but strong voice, he spoke with a measured cadence and a tone slightly lilting but assertive nonetheless. The unmistakable accent of the aristocracy was evident, however, a few faintly stretched syllables indicated perhaps a childhood tutor of Endrassian decent. I admit that I usually am not this observant, however, when coming face to face with a living legend one cannot help but soak in the details. Risking a quick peek, I raise my head slightly from my bowed position. He certainly cuts a regal figure, legs crossed and in obvious comfort, the Prince leisurely takes yet another sip from the ostentatiously decorated gold chalice.

"Splendidly full-bodied and sweet, with just a hint of the floral aroma of asrane. Very well scribe, rise and commence your duties, the room is dismissed." The anticipated announcement was followed by the shuffling of feet and muted murmurs as both servants and nobility alike filed out of the room. I rose to my feet albeit slightly unsteadily having been on one knee for a longer time than I was used to. Bowing once more to the Prince who had once again turned his attention back to swirling the chalice of wine, I too started to make my way out of the room in search of my assigned attendant Harold, nodding as I attempted to interpret the Prince's reaction.

The blonde teen awaited me just beyond the doorway of the Prince's public chambers, a grin smeared on his freckled face. "Seems like His Royal Highness was more interested in his wine than his new scribe I see." Ever the critic, the young boy seemed to be able to find fault in any and everything it seemed. Sighing, I withdrew my handkerchief to wipe my forehead and chided him lightly,

"Please Harold, refrain from commenting on your Prince's behaviour if you do not understand its greater meaning. Although the manner in which his message was conveyed was somewhat convoluted, I do believe that he was making a political statement to the audience. If you had paid closer attention, would have noticed that His Highness was actually referring to the ongoing negotiations his father the King is currently holding with the Correllian ambassadors. His Highness described the wine as sweet with the aroma of asrane, and mentioned something about things happening in due time. Clearly, he means to show that despite the delays in the discussions being held regarding the trade treaties of the Eastern Sea, eventually, a 'sweet' outcome will be the result for us, simply because we have the stronger military presence in the area, as shown by his reference to the asrane flower, the insignia of our glorious navy!"

Instead of the enlightened reaction I was expecting, Harold merely looked at me with a bemused expression. Oh well, I thought to myself shrugging, he is just a simple servant, after all, I can't really expect him to be able to fully comprehend the nuances of situations such as these I guess.

A short while later, with Harold's help, I had gotten myself fairly acquainted with my new chambers. Situated in the Crown Prince's Wing of the Spring Palace, my suite was an appropriate representation of my new status in society, or so I believed. Although not as garishly outfitted with decorations as the Prince's public chambers had been, it still was definitely larger than both my house and my private quarters at the Academy combined.

Immediately after settling down, I quickly withdrew a medium-sized case from my chest of belongings and began to prepare my writing implements. Fountain pens are by no means cheap, as are bound grimoires. However, my new position did come with a few perks such as these, seeing as how important it was that I recorded and preserved all events involving the Prince. Water-proof, heat-resistant, and incredibly durable overall, the effort behind the creation of these enchanted items was no joke, to say the least.

Whilst most commoners would quite possibly have a hard time determining the arcane nature of my writing materials, I on the other hand, had spent two entire years at the Royal Academy earning my first ring of sorcery, and another four years after that at the College studying politics and general arcane theory. As such, upon opening the case, subtle vibrations tickled my senses, like gentle gusts created by the flapping of a butterflies wings, as well as... the faint ringing of bells?

Well. That was new. According to research, the way in which a sorcerer senses arcane energies is unique to the individual. Some claim to see it as a cacophony of vibrant colours flowing around in the air like liquid rainbows, others describe it as a feeling, similar to the sense of warmth on one's skin, lastly, others like myself, are able to hear the sorcery in a sense. What I found most peculiar however, was that usually, to me, arcane energies sound like minor vibrations that resonate within my skull, not sounds which I can easily associate with objects in real life.

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As I pondered this fact, yet another new sound worked its way into the range of my sense unexpectedly. I closed my eyes, straining to detect what it was. Confusion once again got the better of me, clashing metal and the indistinct sound of human voices? What manner of sorcery did the enchanter use when creating this grimoire? I chuckled to myself as I picked up both the pen and the empty tome, walking back to the main living room. No matter how much time one dedicates to studying the arcane arts, one can never fully understand it as a whole I guess.

Curiously, the chaotic sounds of more clashing metal and human voices over the clanging of a bell grew louder I as made my way towards the living room. Slightly concerned, I realised that the noises got louder the closer I brought the book to the doors of my quarters.

"Ah, perhaps that's what's happening! The wards along the door must be interfering with the enchantments on the grimoire, agitating them somehow!" I voiced out my realisation as I experimented a few times, bringing the book closer and farther away from the door and observing the volume of the noise.

Engrossed in my academic fascination and trying to puzzle out a hypothesis for this most enigmatic phenomenon, I only realised that there might perhaps be something wrong when the aged chancellor from earlier, Savos, if my memory served me right, barged into my living room, completely out of breath. The old man looked to be in a rather dreadful state, his priorly neatly combed white hair now was completely disheveled and it seemed as if he had ditched his court vestments for a bathrobe currently stained with soot and concerningly, a bit of blood.

"Can you not hear the bloody alarm bells you fool? Grab your writing materials we need to evacuate now!" The old man shouted at me with astounding vigorosity.

"I- " A single syllable was all I managed before the old codger grabbed me by the hem of my coat with surprising strength and practically dragged me along with him out of the room.

Safe to say, a single glance at the current situation outside put to bed the many postulations about fancy arcane theory I had previously entertained. It seemed as if the thick walls had played a good part in keeping out the racket because the level of noise multiplied manifold once I'd gotten out of my quarters. Sheepishly, I clutched the grimoire tightly to my chest and quickly slipped the pen into my inner coat pocket whilst taking in the entire scene. A rapidly thickening layer of smoke originating from further down was forming despite the high ceilings of the corridor, the small ventilation shafts unable to cope with the sheer volume. The frantic ringing of bells was combined with incoherent shouts and screams, harmonizing like a morbid symphony.

Luckily, the curving structure of the building denied me a direct line of sight to violence occurring. Nevertheless, my pulse had quickened significantly and my mouth was starting to feel dry. Growing up in a mid-sized town just outside the capital for the most part of my life, and having attended an institution with a maximum population of less than a thousand, I had quite frankly lived a rather sheltered life thus far. The sensory overload was simply put, overwhelming and I could already feel myself seizing up in fright.

Fortunately, a firm grip on my arm grounded me sufficiently. Almost in a literal sense actually, as Savos yanked me along with such force that I almost landed on the floor. Our flight through the elaborate layout of the palace went by surprisingly quickly given the size of the entire structure and despite my shock at the entire situation, I noticed that we were using the servants' pathways, heading towards what seemed to be the kitchens. My respect for the old man grew once again as he displayed astounding stamina and speed for one of his age, navigating our escape with efficiency and direction.

Gasping for breath, we burst through a heavy wooden backdoor in one of the kitchens storage rooms to be greeted with the sight of the Prince and a royal guardsman frantically trying to saddle three agitated-looking horses.

"Ahh Your Highness- " I stammered out, trying fervently to hold back a curse as I almost headbutted my new employer, attempting to stop my momentum whilst bowing at the same time. Fortunately, I was once again saved by Savos as he thrust me in the direction of one of the already saddled horses gesturing for me to mount the animal before going over to help the Prince up on his own mount.

Within seconds, the Prince and his two man entourage were out of the palace compound, racing toward some unknown locale with all the urgency that a human whose life was under threat could manage.

The next few hours passed by in a blur as we sped over the terrain, away from the city centre and into the countryside, stopping just once at an inconspicuous stable to change horses and continue our desperate flight. Although I did note that that pitstop could possibly have meant that this seemingly haphazard plan was perhaps not as unplanned as I'd initially thought.

My swearing-in ceremony had occured just after breakfast this morning, and by the time we'd finally reached our destination of sorts, the sun had already sunk halfway below the cover of a sheet of dark stormclouds, an ominous omen if one were to ask me. Savos had us slow down our pace to an even canter before entering the sleepy little town, guiding us hesitantly, looking around as if trying to spot someone or something.

I felt nothing but relief and gratitude when someone called out to us, took our horses and led us inside a nondescript inn. Despite being rather sure that I had somehow broken my back somewhere along the way, I still managed to make it through the door, barely taking note of the few customers as a man lead the three of us through the common room and into what looked to be a cellar of sorts.

Groaning as I rested my aching body on a chair provided, I immediately withdrew my grimoire and pen, ready to write down what had conspired these last few hours. Although I would have very much liked to rest my head and pass out for a few hours right there and then, my duty as a royal scribe came first I reminded myself.

"So... it's happened hasn't it." Prince Ventian sighed, his tone one of resignation.

Our mysterious ally shared a glance with Savos as I took a harder look at him whilst scribbling furiously. The man's eyes were sharp and intense, his heavyset frame garbed in what looked to be simple innkeeper's clothes. His arms, bulging slightly underneath the sleeves of his tunic hinted at a history perhaps less simple than that.

"Your Highness is... correct I'm afraid. My agents have informed me that your father has indeed passed on, and Ainar has seen fit to eliminate all rivals posthaste." I suppressed a soft gasp as the realisation dawned upon me, noting down all my thoughts as soon as they came to mind. In the Kingdom of Ardanum, succession has always been messy and tedious. Usually, the Crown Prince, the firstborn son of the King will be first in line to succeed the Amethyst Throne. However, in a case where he has yet to turn 18, a regent will be selected to rule in his stead, typically the closest relative to the King. Unfortunately, this means that if he so pleases the regent will be able to rule with absolute power until the Crown Prince is of age.