Spectral Crown: Chapter Five

“Who’s counting the days anyway”

I’m going to be out of commission for the next couple of weeks, as I’ll be on socially-distanced vacation, visiting with my girlfriend’s family and then visiting my grandfather on the East Coast before he moves off his mountainside aviary abode and away from the world-famous Pizza Barn. Besides their pizza being pretty good, I think they use the same web-hosting service I do, so we’ve got that in common. Don’t worry, I won’t be staying in hotels or going to crowded places or really anything with other people; I’m not even staying in my grandfather’s house, I’m camping on his lawn. But as a way to pass the time between now and whenever I can get back to our regularly-scheduled programming, here’s the next four chapters of Spectral Crown, one each week. Or something like that.

Previous chapter here!

Spectral Crown, by Andy Sima: Chapter Five

All members of the Uradel family, and nearly all members of the castle as a whole, were now in attendance at the Royal Court of Uradel.  We were assembled inside what was the largest single room of the castle, and it was decorated much like any other room.  Stone floors and high ceilings, with walls coated in familial tapestries and depictions of past rulers of Stalpert valley.  Their eyes gazed down on the group situated in the room.  Whether their gaze was disapproving because the group contained non-nobles or because the current nobles had grown so depressing, I will never be sure.

            At the far end were the thrones of the royal court, silk-covered seats in which the King, Queen, Prince, and various other court members resided.  The King, of course, sat in the very middle, royal crown held on royal head held on weak royal neck held on royal sickly hued body, resting within royal garb of silk.  King Adalbert stroked a pale white beard attached to his face, with the Queen to his right and the Prince to his left.  At the center of the room was a stage where presentations and declarations could be made before the court.  Then there were the audience’s chairs at the back.  I sat with my mother and the other servants, butlers, and handmaidens in rows of wooden benches, watching the proceedings with interest. 

            “His majesty King Adalbert, her majesty Queen Annalise, his majesty Prince Maynard, ladies and gentlemen of the Uradel Royal Court, and assembled guests, I have gathered you all here today, on emergency notice, as the King’s Royal Attendant, to present before the court a most important proposition regarding the marriage of Prince Maynard,” Simon declared, voice shaking.  The hunched man removed his glasses and cleaned them on his tunic.  Then, upon finishing this task, he gestured to the stranger, who was standing next to him on the stage.  The stranger still wore his cloak, but the hood was down, so that the entire court could see his face.  “This man hails from the land of Umbra, to the east of here.  He is a member of the noble Blestemat family, bearing their crest,” there was a visible shudder in Simon’s frame.  “And he carries a message from the King and Queen of that land.”  Simon gestured again to the stranger.  “Would you care to introduce yourself?”

            The stranger stepped forward, edging Simon aside with his swishing cloak.  He took the center of the stage and postured to the nobles before him.  “My name,” he began, in a loud, clear voice, free of any fear or nervousness, “is Iacob Blestemat, prince to the nation of Umbra and son of King Titus and Queen Viorel.”  My mother and I gasped.  This stranger was no mere messenger; he was a prince!  Royalty from an unknown nation!  This made his actions all the more intriguing.

            “I appear before you today,” Iacob continued, “to propose a marriage of kingdoms.  My sister, Princess Sorina Blestemat, desires a husband from another nation.  My father, seeing it as a fair occasion to make diplomatic relations, agreed, and sent me out into the world to seek a prince that is worthy of my sister.  While stopping in this valley, I overheard one of your men,” I felt his eyes shift towards me, “speaking of Prince Maynard, who wants a wife.  Therefore, I find that here is an opportunity available to us to forge ties between countries.  Our position to the east is enviable to you, as we have access to the ocean.  Your position is enviable to us as a gateway to the west.  This marriage could provide better trade routes for both of our nations, and shared wealth and military expenditure.  It is a strategic meeting of forces that will benefit both families in years to come and settles immediate issues that face us today.  So, with that, what say you?”

            There was a murmur about the court room, both among the nobility and the servants.  My mother touched my arm lightly.

            “That man is a prince!” she whispered.  “And he is traveling alone!”

            “It is quite peculiar,” I agreed.  The royalty continued to murmur in their grand stands.  The Prince leaned over to say something to his father, and the King nodded in return.

            “We are pleased by your offer,” King Adalbert said.  “However, my son wishes to know the appearance of your sister, Princess Sorina.  Might you be able to describe her appearance?”

            “I can do better than that,” Prince Iacob said, and pulled a scroll of paper from somewhere in his cloak.  “I have a portrait of her, painted by the finest artist of Umbra.”  Iacob handed the scroll to Simon, who handed it in his turn to the king.  The king, holding the scroll before himself and his son, unrolled in carefully.  Upon seeing whatever it was that had been placed there, Prince Maynard gasped and his eyes lit up like sparks.

            “Father,” I heard him say.  “We must visit this wonderful woman.”

            “I agree,” said the King.  “A marriage would be most pleasant.”

            “So you are accepting of my offer?” Iacob asked aloud as the King passed the scroll to his wife, who gasped, too, and she passed it down the row of royals like a sacred object. 

            “We are accepting,” said Prince Maynard.

            “But,” his father said, touching the prince’s thin arm lightly, “We wish to see this nation for ourselves, first.  To meet Princess Sorina in person.”

            Iacob bowed before the king.  “All can be arranged.  If you find our nation, and my sister, to your liking, then perhaps we may be able to seal the deal while you are in Umbra?  Have a wedding there, and Sorina may return to Uradel with you.”

            “This would be most agreeable,” King Adalbert said.  “Yes, let us travel to Umbra and meet your family members.”  The prince nodded.  His head moved with such vigor that I thought his neck might snap in half.

            As the scroll was passed around the seats of the court, it eventually made its way down into the audience’s wooden rows, and after passing through many startled hands, it eventually reached my mother and me.  We, too, gulped at the sight of the portrait on the scroll.  The princess painted there was incredibly similar to her brother who stood before us, in that her skin was paper white, her lips a fleshy red of cherry wine, and hair a pitch black.  And, just like her brother, her face was perfect.  The portrait, I was sure, did not capture the shifting effect that she must have contained, much like Iacob had.

            My mother and I wordlessly examined the portrait before passing it down the line to others who became just as stunned as the rest of us.

            “The matter is settled, then,” Iacob said.  “You shall return to Umbra with me, and we shall finalize matters there.  I shall send a message to my family and let them know to expect visitors, and to prepare rooms.”

            “Yes, this plan is a good one,” the king said, stroking his wiry beard.  “Are there any other matters you must discuss?”

            “None at this time, your majesty.  I recommend that you gather whoever it is you will be bringing to Umbra in your entourage.  My word travels faster than you may expect,” Iacob said.

            “Wonderful,” the king said.  “In that case, court session is dismissed.  You may all go.”

            The hushed silence that sat itself in the court room lifted off its haunches and stalked away, leaving in its wake a loud round of whispering.  Everyone in attendance was abuzz with the news of a wedding.  There had not been a wedding in the Uradel family for almost thirty years, not since the current King was wedded to the Queen.  I had not been alive to remember it, and neither had Maynard.  My mother, however, was a different matter.

            “Weddings are always such wonderful events,” my mother said, “even when it’s royalty.  Just think, Saelac, you’ll have a chance to experience a real royal wedding first-hand.”

            “Only if we go to Umbra with them,” I said in response.

            “Of course we’ll be going with them,” my mother said.  “They couldn’t survive without us.”  And she was right, of course.  As we discussed matters further, Simon made his way past us, the Umbra prince following behind.

            “Now, Simon, I need your assistance in sending a message to my home country,” Iacob said.  He half-smiled at me as he passed.

            “What do you need, sir?” Simon asked as they walked away.  His fingers twitched at the ends of his hands.  Their voices were lost in the mumble of the crowd, but I very faintly heard Iacob’s reply.

            “I need access to your tallest tower,” he said.  And then they were out of my range of hearing.

            “Seems an odd way to contact his home,” I said.  “What could a tower do for him?”

            “I do not know,” my mother responded.  “I wish there was a way to find out.”

            “Perhaps there is,” I muttered.  Though I had been reassured by the man’s speech before the court, there were still many things that I did not understand about Iacob Blestemat.  He did not once mention curses in his dealings with the king, nor did he show the court his tattoo.  His calm nature unnerved me as much as it disarmed me and warranted further investigation.  I decided then that I would investigate Iacob’s climb to the tallest tower of Chateau Uradel.  I told my mother as much and followed Simon and Iacob at a distance for a moment.  I knew the castle well from exploring it at a child.

            I passed down the hall, ignoring the spiral staircase that Simon and Iacob had ascended, and instead entered a much smaller set of spiral staircases.  The worn-out stairs, sheathed in darkness and stale air like a forgotten blade, served as access to upper floors without disturbing the royalty.  It was only used by servants, and only on the rare occasions when the King had guests.  These events had grown fewer and fewer as the years went on.  Now servants almost only ever used the central staircase.  I would go unnoticed.

            And I flew, eager to be in the tallest tower before Simon and Iacob reached it.  I would be able to find a hiding place where I could watch Iacob without being discovered.  My curiosity had got the best of me.

            Upon reaching the top floor, with the King and Queen’s quarters, I passed down the hall, roaming beyond Simon’s quarters and to another set of stairs which lead only upward.  Behind me, I heard Simon and Iacob’s voices from the main stairs.

            Once I reached the summit of these new stairs, I found myself standing in a sparsely decorated round room, the one that was housed inside the castle’s tallest tower.  It held nothing but a single unlit torch, a worn-out carpet, and an empty table.  It had a door, leading to the tower’s balcony, which wrapped around the room.  I crossed the doorway, exiting the castle in favor of cold mountain air, and glanced around for a hiding place.

            The balcony, like the inside of the tower, was undecorated stone wall.  There was no way I could hide on the balcony and still see Iacob.  So I did the next best thing; carefully gripping the balcony’s wall, I lifted myself up until I stood on the stone railing and then, stretching out my arms, I was able to reach the roof of the tower.  I grabbed onto its slate shingles, sweating as I went, and pulled myself up onto the roof of the tower.  From here I would be able to see all points of the balcony, and unless Iacob looked up, I would go unnoticed.  No one ever looked up, anyway.

            From my perch atop the castle’s highest peak, I heard the heavy breathing of old Simon and the easy swish of Iacob’s cloak on the stairs.  They made their way up the steps until they stood in the room below me.  I could hear them faintly through the doorway.

            “This is it,” Simon said.  “The highest point in Chateau Uradel.  May I ask what you need it for?”

            “I am signaling to my compatriots in the valley, so that they know the message to carry to the home country,” Iacob.  Something about what he said told of a half-truth.  “May I have some privacy?”

            “Certainly.  I will be at the bottom of the steps, waiting to escort you to your room,” Simon said, and I heard him stumble his way down the stairs.  Iacob stepped onto the balcony.

            I peered over the edge, careful not to lose my precarious balance, and checked the man in the black cloak.  He stood at the edge, gripping the railing, and breathed in the cool air.  He sniffed once, twice, and then a third time, and looked around him.  I thought I saw him smile, but I could have been mistaken.

            Standing at the edge of the tower, he spread his arms out, as if he were about to leap from the tower and fly.  But it was not to be.  Instead, he made motions with his fingers that meant nothing to me.  Eventually he brought his hands together, clasped them, and laid them down on the railing.  Then he waited.

            There was a minute or so of silence before I heard the flapping of wings.  From below the tower, a small black shape shot up into the sky, all feathers and arrowhead.  Once it crested over the railing, it landed lightly on the stones next to Iacob, and I saw what it was.  It was a small raven, oiled black feathers matching the oiled black hair of the Blestemat man.  The bird eyed Iacob intelligently and squawked once.

            Iacob made some sort of cooing noise, and leaned down close to the bird.  He whispered something into its ear, picked it up, and flung it from the edge of the railing.  In mid-air, the bird unfolded its wings and took flight, spiraling up into the sky and across the mountain range to the east.  Iacob watched the bird as it flew away, and after a moment, stepped back into the tower.  I heard his steps receding.

            I tried to comprehend what I had seen, to discover if any of it made sense to me, but none of it did.  The only word that came to mind was witchcraft, but I knew better.  Witches were not real.  Curses and magic did not exist.  And yet, every interaction I had with this man seemed to prove otherwise.

To be continued for the next three weeks because I won’t have internet access for at least two of them…