Chapter Ten

A Royal Meeting

 

Prince Fennian was as charming as he was accommodating. After Vera and Clarus had been given some time to clean up, they had been presented with a meal that put the word ‘lavish’ to shame. Vera wasn’t particularly fond of boar, but she had to admit it presented well. As they sat around the large table in private quarters larger than most houses Vera had ever lived in, they made polite conversation. 

Once upon a time, these conversations would have been confusing to her. On the surface it seemed like nothing of substance was being said, but several years at court had taught her that every careful word can reveal or conceal what polite company will not allow one to say out loud. 

While casually talking about Prince Fennian’s upbringing and life in Raasland in general, Vera had already gathered that King Leonald was often away from court and society. He was determined, it seemed, to be remembered as progressive. The roads in his country were paved, and cities expanded rapidly due to public works. According to Galladio’s report, taxes were high in Raasland, but so was quality of life. People did not complain if they could see where the money went and it directly benefited them. 

“Do you think the King might know anything about magic? The kindly Prince here seems not to hold it in particularly high regard,” Aesling pondered. 

“Which is strange,” Vera said to her internally. “These are your homelands, after all.”

“I left to go South with our Clarus more than fifteen years ago,” Aesling said. “The noble Prince Fennian was still in his britches then.”

“If I might ask,” Vera said out loud during a lull in the conversation, “you said Raasland does not have strong magical traditions?” Fennian’s face, which had initially turned to Vera in curious attention, turned sour. 

“It is as I said, Queen Vera,” he said, and paused for a moment to sip his wine. “While we were spared the brunt of Caligon’s ravages, his infernal sorceries still laid waste to many a town and village. While some magecraft still exist here in Suddenne and other large cities, it is not a profession held in high esteem.” He put his cutlery aside and stood up, walking over to the window as he walked. From this room, Suddenne and its myriad of lights were clearly visible, and as the evening drew closer, more and more of them were being lit. 

“I believe my charming spouse,” Clarus said, “is referring to the long-standing worship and understanding your people have with the woodland spirits.” He was very careful with his words. Once upon a time, almost twenty years ago, a young Clarus had travelled far and wide. In the Raasland forests he had met and fallen in love with Aesling. She had resided in his mind and heart in both the literal and figurative senses, and it was she who had kept him in a dreamless, ageless sleep when they had tried to stop the Cavean, fifteen years ago. Nobody, other than Vera, had ever known. 

“Spiritualism is frowned upon,” Prince Fennian said. He turned around and smiled reassuringly. “Not that we do not respect the beliefs of other cultures, of course. But we have seen what magic and the supernatural can do, and we do not wish to see it repeated here. We are a nation of hard-working people. We put our faith in the strength of our hands and the clarity of our minds.”

Vera frowned. “But, these forest spirits, they have been known to exist. While they may not need to be worshipped—” there was a slightly offended (but playful) huff from Aesling in Vera’s head, “— surely they can not be ignored? These are living, intelligent beings.”

“Damned right,” Aesling mumbled. Vera felt her arms almost crossing of their own accord, though she resisted. 

Prince Fennian nodded and walked back over to his seat. “They are,” he said, “we assume. After all, we can not know for sure what their intentions are. At the end of the day, they only care about their woods, and do not — can not — empathise with humanity on the scales we exist on nowadays.” Clarus and Vera exchanged a quick glance, but let him speak. “They are, for all intents and purposes, alien to us. Dangerous as any wild animal, if not more, and can not be trained, chained or bargained with.”

“This isn’t right,” Aesling said. “I do not remember much, but I know there was an understanding with those living on the edges of the woods. This is not how I remember it.” Vera nodded, but realised she was treading on thin ice. 

“I apologise deeply if this is an upsetting topic of conversation, Prince Fennian—” she said, but the Prince held up his hand. 

“Firstly, no apologies are necessary. Secondly, call me Fennian,” he said, smiling. “Both of you, of course. Now, you were about to say more?”

“Uh, yes,” Vera said. “Has there been record of anyone born in your borders with some sort of inherent magic?” Now it was Fennian’s turn to frown. He looked mildly offended at the idea, as well as deeply confused.

“People who use magic without the use of a magecraft’s potions?” he said. He looked at her like she’d sprouted a pair of horns. “If it’d happened, I would have heard about it. No, such things are impossible.” He wiped his mouth. 

“Nothing of the sort,” Vera said, forcing herself to laugh softly. “Small things, like eyes changing colour…”

“You’ll have to forgive my beloved,” Clarus said, interrupting her. “She has been particularly taken with the subject, and she will sometimes lose herself in it, even when the time or place may not be perfectly suited to it.”

Vera felt her jaw clench, and she looked at him. Deep inside her, the Cavean chuckled. Aesling smothered it immediately. “Of course, dear. I apologise.”

“Neither of you has any apologies to make,” Fennian said, but the silence that hung in the air after the last syllable had left his mouth would have been able to cut stone. It was almost a relief when Galladio knocked and was let in. He was out of breath. 

“Your Highnesses,” he said, looking like someone who was secretly trying to restrain a rabbit behind his back, “I’m afraid a… situation has developed.” Galladio looked at Vera with a glance she was certain was meaningful to someone. It wasn’t to her. She nodded at him to proceed. “The, uh, the children, that is to say, your wards, have, uh, escaped.” 

Fennian choked on his wine, Clarus looked like he’d just seen a ghost, and Vera’s brain went into overdrive trying to figure out what the appropriate response even was. The Prince made the choice for her by throwing his head in his neck and laughing. Clarus stood up, nearly knocking his chair over. “Prince Fennian, may I request some of your soldiery to assemble a search party?” Vera appreciated his immediate reaction, and she stood up too. 

“They can not have gone far, surely? They do not know the city all that well…”

With a hearty chuckle, Fennian stood up and looked between them. “King Clarus, of course you will have your search party. Queen Vera, I assure you, Suddenne is not as big as it seems, though its rooftops have a long-standing history of hiding rapscallions.” He opened his hands to both of them. “They are children, as you say. There is a festival tonight. They will find their way back to the Cloth Hall when they have tired themselves out, and I will make sure every guardsman knows to allow them passage.”

Vera looked at Clarus. She was not sure if that was enough, but other than disrupting the entire city during a festival, she didn’t know what else she could do. She gave him a curt nod, and he nodded back. “That will be sufficient, Prince Fennian, I thank you,” Clarus said. The young Prince looked at them both, and squinted. 

“I sense that it will not,” Fennian said. “Then let them come to us when we are at the festival. We will be highly visible, and should the children be seen, then you can politely yet firmly put them back into your manservant’s care.” He nodded to Galladio. “You will have as many men as you need to restrain several

teenagers.” The smile that played on the edge of his lips was just barely on the edge of mockery. 

“Thank you, Prince Fennian,” Vera said, and she bowed her head. “When will that be?”

“Well, I believe we have whiled away most of the day,” the Prince said. “Night will fall in less than an hour. I had hoped my father would be here sooner so you could make your acquaintance, but then again, it’ll be good for the populace to see two monarchs meeting in public, yes?” 

They nodded, and Galladio made to leave with a deep bow, but Vera stopped him. He went over and she leaned in close, whispering. “If my contact is in the vicinity, any help is welcome,” she said. He looked at her for a moment, then nodded and left. If Prince Fennian was curious about what she’d just told the manservant, he didn’t show it. 

“Now,” he said, “shall we go prepare for the festival?” he said. Another round of nods, before Vera and Clarus were left alone to get changed. They didn’t talk much, both of them worried about the children while trying to sort out the repercussions of seemingly arresting them in the middle of a festival that was also a major diplomatic event… on top of the fact that Vera was trying her best not to be too mad at Clarus for cutting her off. He had been right, but then again, it had not felt good. 

“I’m sure more unspoken secrets will only strengthen the bond of your relationship,” the Cavean said, its voice like branches against a window at night. “Queen Vera, Queen of Lies.” It was abruptly cut off as Aesling overwhelmed it with her presence. 

“We will speak to Clarus later,” she said. 

“Yes, Vera said, “we will.” But for now, they had to sound in a light festival, whatever that meant. When they were ready, Prince Fennian led them down the winding hallways of the Palace again. In the time they’d been inside eating, the Cloth Hall had transformed dramatically. Only the centre gate was now open, and a long, white carpet ran from the gate all the way to the giant staircase they’d ascended when they’d arrived. They were immediately surrounded by officials, and clearly-wealthy people were gathered all over on benches to watch them. 

Prince Fennian leaned in close to Clarus and Vera. “Trading in the Cloth Hall goes on until the last possible minute,” he said, “as all trade stops for several days when the light festival starts.” He nodded with his head at a group of people, then waved. “The nobility gathers in the Cloth Hall to watch the procession — that’s us — until we go outside. Then they watch the start of the festival from the balconies of the Cloth Hall itself.”

“An elegant solution,” Clarus said. “How long is this procession?” He looked behind him. Several dozen servants had gathered behind them as they got ready to descend the stairs. Each of them was holding a brightly coloured lantern. 

“Oh, not far,” Fennian said. “It’s at the centre of the square in front of the Hall. I am sorry all of this is on such short notice,” he laughed. “A day sooner or later and this could have been avoided. I hope you’ll forgive the slight inconvenience.”

“Nonsense,” Clarus laughed. “We are the ones who inconvenienced you, after all. What would you have us do?” Vera, Clarus and Prince Fennian were all handed a paper lantern. Vera looked at hers, then at the one Clarus was holding and with a wordless smile, they quickly swapped them. When Fennian raised an eyebrow, Clarus just smirked. “She likes the colour green,” he said. 

“Like her eyes,” Prince Fennian said. “I see. Now we simply walk to the square, where I or my father will make a small speech, before we light the bonfire and the festivities begin. Your own guard as well as ours will be present, of course.” 

With a little nod to the side, a message was passed to a servant, who disappeared. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, music started to bounce off the walls of the Cloth Hall. When the Prince started to descend the staircase, Clarus and Vera took that as their signal to follow him. Around the galleries of the Cloth Hall, all eyes were on the royal procession. Vera hadn’t felt this looked at since her wedding day. They walked down the carpet, and there was a pang of guilt stepping on it. 

If her mind had been on the children still, then it was completely forced off its trajectory when she stepped through the large gates. The carpet was on a slightly elevated platform, flanked by guardsmen. It felt like the entire population of Suddenne was gathered in the city square. It was packed. Music rang out here, too, different tunes coming from different directions, and the people cheered as soon as they saw their Prince. 

As they walked down the platform, Vera noticed a portion of the population wasn’t cheering at them, however. There was a figure approaching the raised dais at the centre of the square as well, from the other direction. She only recognized the man from a single portrait the Palace of Coalis had received a replica of. It hadn’t done him justice. 

The man was closer to fifty than forty, and clearly in the prime of his life. Instead of a lantern, he was holding a torch, and he walked with the gait of a man who had places to be, and who liked to get there quickly. 

He stopped in front of them with a calm expression. “Your Highness,” he said. 

“Your Highness,” Clarus said. A servant came over and took his lantern. Clarus, not missing a beat, looked at the torch, which was held uncomfortably close between them, and then at the King in front of him. He grabbed the haft of the torch resolutely, and together they raised it to the sky. 

The crowd’s cheer was deafening.