The royal palace within the Kold district, the wealthiest district in the Kingdom of Crystal, was bustling in overdrive with media camera crews, civilians and fanatics falling over each other in their attempts to catch sight of their favorite royal family members or noblemen, touring visitors, and permissible palace visitors that were hard at work. Visitors and guests with official access came and went through the splendorous crystalline gate, receiving stares from gawkers as they passed those on the public street. Stoic security guards behind the gates did not bat an eye in the face of such obvious awe, curiosity, jealousy, and hostility.

The princes and royal family did not enter through the front gate when they returned; their entrance and exit was via two side gates at the back of the palace, on a small private road next to a massive decrepit forest of ice trees, pillars, and peaceful temples that remained open for noble families and not-so-well-off civilians. Third Prince Caspian enjoyed walking through those pillared temple pathways in his youth whenever he went to the royal palace, and he did nothing different in his adult years. The blooming season was upon them, making the trees vibrant with blue and azure blossoms and leaves, and pillars reflected mild morning sunlight off its glossy surfaces. Once in a while, it hit Caspian in the eyes, so he ducked his head and squinted with adaptability as he strolled along.

His guard of 10 years, Royal Officer Landon Rapello, followed from two feet behind him, his sword slapping his leg with each step. “It’s wonderful that the war has hardly touched nature here, right, Prince Caspian?”

Caspian glanced at him and nodded. 

“How is your military work coming along, Your Highness? I have heard that the recent battle was far more terrible than usual,” Landon asked, sighing. “The family and household hates you going out there, me included.”

“My weapon will not sit,” Caspian said. “It was terrible, but there’s good news.”

“Oh?” He puzzled over how there could be good news over the disastrous ravages and tragedies of the past battle. Certainly it was not worth the amount of damage wrecked to their country. He knew not to ask further; such sensitive information could not be divulged. He had asked many a time in the past, only to be ignored. “Whatever happens, we will keep security tight here at the palace and neighboring districts. Your cherished forest will be the same vision as ever. Our vigilant eyes are nothing to scoff at, even in times of war.”

Caspian smiled. “Yes, thank you. Please continue to protect our home and queen.” Although he requested this for reassurance, the queen alone was no easy prey, for she was trained, vigilant, and headstrong as well—without a doubt, a beatific bure[1] of a high caliber.

“Yes, Your Highness. You needn’t ask twice,” he said. “Her Majesty is as bored and lovely as ever. She entertains the press and council members rightfully to no end.”

He did not doubt that for a second.

“She is your mother, you know. Do you not miss her? If I may be so forward, well, do you know that Her Majesty misses you every day? There can be only so many hours she would willingly spend with people she does not adore. Surely you can take a break every so often to see her.”

Caspian could feel him poking accusing eyes into the back of his head. It was something more than a few people at the palace asked every time he came by. Of course he was weary of the question, but he was not without understanding.

“The work that goes into such an intense war like the one we are in the midst of is more pressing than feelings of yearning.” He stared ahead, unable to enjoy the wind, shade, and colors with the other man’s dreadful topic pushing into the fore of his mind. “16 years under the same roof is plenty. Ask no more.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Landon did not regret broaching the topic; of this, Caspian knew. By asking time and again, and reminding him of his mother’s wishes, they were ingrained in him. He may forget it sometimes, but now he felt a twinge of guilt. Landon did not regret it yet, but Caspian would make him. He already devised ways to use the palace maid on floor three, Gilda Malyn, Landon’s current infatuation, to tease the man’s fragile ego and swaying heart.

When they approached, a palace security guard opened the outer gate for him. The head butler bowed, saying, “Your Highness, welcome home. I hope your journey was nice and worthwhile.”

He nodded. “Good morning, Thomson.”

He was greeted at a back palace door by the head maid, Wendy. She had short, clean white hair, and bright gray eyes that exuded maturity. She smiled. “Your Highness, welcome home. I hope you have been doing well. Your room and early noon meal are as they should be, proper and fresh.”

“Thank you. Thomson will attend to my luggage.”

Caspian strode down a long expansive corridor with crystal glass windows, various white doors, and clean blue carpeting. At the end of the hall next to a large glass doorway, a round staircase led up to the second story. He went straight up to the third floor, where he knew his private quarters would be located. In the staircase lobby above, busy maids, palace servants, and guards bowed in greeting. As he continued down another hallway and passed the third floor kitchen, a cooking apprentice dashed out and chased after him.

“Your Highness, welcome back!” he called, beaming and grinning. “It’s me, Jerome. Do you remember, from your last visit? I prepared your noon meal and dessert today. I hope it’s to your liking. They’re all the favorites you mentioned to me last time.”

Caspian stopped in his tracks and eyed the spirited youth. He was the cooking apprentice he had met during his previous visit three weeks ago. “Jerome, good afternoon. It will be my pleasure to try it. I trust that you’ve improved.”

“Yes, Your Highness, of course! I am always training and practicing and cooking. The chef allowed me to take care of your noon meal today. For you and everyone at the palace, I will become the best apprentice you ever knew!”

Caspian was sure he had heard those statements from him before. He was a bit of a parrot, wasn’t he?

“Your Highness, it would be so good of you not to leave me in the dust,” Landon said, upset, from behind Jerome. “Jerome, let’s leave His Highness to rest and enjoy his meal, shall we? He’s had a long journey this morning, and no doubt he has been hard at work with military service this entire week as well. The war, you know. Chit chat later.”

Jerome bowed, still grinning, and hurried off. Landon shook his head as he watched. “I think he’s your fan. I don’t know where he gets all that energy. Could it be his age?”

Caspian had to agree.

He walked on when Landon turned his gaze on him. “Really, Your Highness, is it so hard to share more of how you feel? This past week couldn’t have been fun.”

He could picture Landon’s hands resting on his hips as he spoke in disapproval right behind him. He said, “No.”

 “Well, if you’re wondering about me, I’ve not had fun either.” He sighed. “Without your company, without you in my sight to reassure me that you are safe and well protected, I will never be comfortable. The pit of my stomach is in tangles every time I hear of that dreadful three letter word, and I wonder if you are well. Even knowing you are a powerful crystallizing soldier does me no good.”

Caspian paused at a door and looked into his eyes, which was affectionate and concerned. “Landon...I apologize for worrying you. I would tell you not to worry, but you wouldn’t listen.”

He shook his head. “No, Your Highness, I wouldn’t.” He smiled, opening the door for him. “Tell me, do you ever worry about your mother or brother?”

Caspian went inside the room, answering right away, “No. With you and Mr. Moorland alive and kicking, I have nothing to worry about.”

“It’s good you trust in us so keenly. We do know what we’re about.”

He moved aside to let Thomson in, who began to set out the belongings in Caspian’s luggage. Though he always had plenty left in the bedroom’s wardrobe, he had brought the luggage to wear what he preferred for the next occasions. Thomson put the top layers into the walk-in closet at the side of the room, knowing that those layers were Caspian’s prioritized wardrobe for the day ahead. He had no need to stow away the rest, as he would not be staying more than two days at the palace, much to Landon’s chagrin.

“Is the palace staff doing well these days?” Caspian asked of Thomson. “Any break in attempts?”

Thomson said, “No, Your Highness. Some of the press and fanatics near the front gate have been riled up and agitated for some reason or other, but there has been no success in breaking onto the grounds. If there were any fools, I’ve not heard because they must have been caught.”

They were likely riled up about the recent battle that had taken the television, news, and media by storm as the worst incident of devastation and brutality in recent years. There had been sightings of some kind of rod in the hands of the terrorists that had attacked the people of the Kingdom, a magic weapon never before seen in magic history. Some news covered the sightings with pictures to prove it, while other news tried to debunk the photographs and claimed they were forged. In this battle, innocent and hardworking lives were speculated to have been lost as high as into the thousands. The numbers did not fare so well in the military as well, in the high hundreds, which was costly to the family, country, and overall fight for peace.

It was devastating. Not an inspiring nationwide event in the least. The queen would make an empowering speech two days from then, advocating for justice and support, and many more in many days to come.

“Yes, well, with our hundreds of highly practiced knights and guards on and around the premises, it isn’t going to happen. I thought we had your undivided trust, Your Highness,” Landon said, crossing his arms.

Caspian raised his hand. “You’re right. But I had to ensure that everyone inside feels safe. Not just my mother.”

Thomson smiled. “I appreciate your asking, Your Highness. We are as privileged and blissful as we have always been. This city is more secure than the best museums and banks. If you will allow it, let us not jinx our good fortune with further talk of this.”

Landon’s lips twitched, probably at the implication that Thomson was asking Caspian to shut his mouth. As per usual, he pretended not to notice or care.

Security was indeed great at the palace and surrounding district, for they were so removed and untouched by war for many centuries. The terrorists, with their few numbers, would not have won against the regaled security details, trained guards, and powerful knights. It was also a possibility that they had not been purposefully targeted due to the International Union of Peace Enactment that had been formed many decades ago.

Removing the royal cloak from his shoulders, its aqua crystalline shoulder pauldron face up, Caspian handed it to Thomson, who set it on a chair in the closet. He removed his boots in the closet room, then sat on the comfortable sofa next to a corner fireplace, crossing a leg at the knee. There he stared out of the tall window beside him.

A mammoth of a tree, splendid with its thick limbs and teal and aquamarine shades, overlooked the opulent gardens and numerous patios. In the pillars and hedge-style maze next to the garden, a large group of the palace servant’s children played together. A farmhand working on a part of the garden watched over the frolicking children, a sweaty and tired look over his face.

Landon approached. “Watching the kiddos? They remind me of Jerome.” Clearly this was an attempt at humor, but Caspian glanced at him with a blank expression.

“Jerome is a hired cook.”

Landon sighed while Thomson coughed into his sleeve.

Caspian turned to the window. “The tree is balder.”

“It’s getting old, losing some leaves. But that’s still beautiful in its own way.”

As Thomson left, Caspian held a hand out. “The latest on Prophet’s Land, Landon.”

Poring over pages while he ate was a treasured routine of his since the age of 13. Landon, knowing this, already had the book sitting on a table. He handed it to him, then fetched the cart holding his meal, which he uncovered and set up for him. A potato beef stew with cabbage and salt sauce, a cinnamon cream pie, and sparkling mint tea with crystal ice. Jerome had done an excellent job with the choices. He did not care if the array seemed like commoner’s food, for they were some of his favorite dishes meant to replenish energy.

“Sherynn hasn’t read this one yet, so I would like to caution you to be wary of spoiling her this evening, Your Highness.”

He nodded. Sherynn, his family’s electrifying prophet for the past three decades, was his evening dinner guest and appointment. She had been employed by King Hamin, the ruling king before their previous one, for her powerfully accurate magic and devotion as a close friend to the royal family. She not only observed and shared her prophetic visions of future events and outcomes to help guide governing and war efforts, but she also acted as a private counselor for the family. He always accepted the counseling, knowing that they were a family tradition during the appointments, as well as being part of her nature. After he became a soldier, she shared visions about the military with him alone.

“I will leave you to your meal, Your Highness.” Landon bowed at the waist. “Please inform me if you are going to the library or study afterward.”

“Stay,” Caspian said as he began to read. “Sit.”

He halted in his tracks, then stood by the door. “Then I will. But I prefer to stand.”

The book, the tenth addition in its series, followed the true period of events and legacies of Lord Urane, the third ruling prophet of an isolated island in the northeastern coast known as Prophet’s Land. Throughout the series, Caspian discovered some embellishments and discrepancies in missing time, where definite significant events would have taken place, but overall it seemed to be consistent and true in most areas, according to the written and verbal testimonies of descendants of its early ancestors passed down to future generations, including Sherynn’s. He found the tales to be fascinating in his research of the origin and mechanism of the unique magic called electrical prophecy.