The buzz of early morning invitations and rushed afternoon replies of Hess Manor’s annual tea party filled the marble halls of the White Palace.
Yet, silence reverberated through the throne room as King Richard eyed the parchment in his hands. His eyes floated over the words in a noncommittal manner. King Richard’s hardened look evaporated and was replaced with a mournful one.
Elias watched the sudden change as he held in a smirk. The aging old man was in no hurry to address the matter at hand and Elias was not one to speak first. Until their gaze locked with one another. A fading cerulean blue meets with vibrant emerald irises.
“It seems that this year’s monsoon in the periphery took more lives than last.” The King’s weary tone beckoned sadness from an audience. But it was just Elias standing alone in the empty hall. And he was not one to indulge in the theatrics of others. The King placed his report to the side, no longer glancing at the report.
“Beloved Grand Duke, ensure that you will add a few more candles at this year’s vigil ceremony.” Said King Richard, as he placed the report to the side, no longer glancing at the parchment. His finger stroked under his bagged eye, wiping a nonexistent tear away.
“Their lives were not taken by the Monsoon, Sire—” Before Elias could finish a sharp glare was pointed at him. Urging the youth to hold his tongue, Elias' expression did not change but his eyes were unrelenting and riddled with anger.
Elias stared into King Richard’s eyes, swallowing a scoff that crawled up his throat. If the King wasn’t going to allow him a word he would stare in utter disgust. None was the wiser as Elias’ lips pulled in a languid smile.
King Richard stared back at the youth, Narrowing his eyes to catch a glimmer of defiance but none was found. Elias just stared until King Richard used a moment to cast his eyes away before straightening himself without hesitation.
“I will open my personal warehouse to your effort, My Dearest Grand Duke.” King Richard’s words were as light as air. As he found a bone to throw to appease the Young Grand Duke. “Medicines and grain can be taken to aid in the aftermath of the monsoon. Especially the families that have been affected.” The King’s tone of somber was layered under an authoritative edge.
Feigning a grateful smile Elias’ heart tripled in beats. His blood turned cold and hot simultaneously. “Sire, if I may speak.” Elias’ eyes did not turn away nor did he bend his back.
King Richard sneered at the arrogance. Looking so much like his father and as a result, akin to his late sister. Emeralds for eye and the pitch of the night for hair.
“You may.” King Richard huffed, letting the crude manner in the Grand Duke's address slide.
“High Priest Cunningham must be linked to the deaths of the children. The only common thread being layman Granderford.” Elias’ direct drawl revealed slight frustration but was quickly buried by a face of indifference. “A public investigation will let the church’s influence wane.” Elias watched for a moment to catch a reaction from the King but none appeared.
A slight twitch in Elias’ right eye as he stared at Vicon’s sovereign.
“Sire, this is the opening that we needed in order to rein in the Church’s power,” Elias claimed. “The defamation will force High Priest Cunningham to think carefully before moving to support Prince Alexander.” The Youth's words were well crafted but fell on deaf ears.
King Richard’s unmoving expression of the Grand Duke’s argument. Not a ripple of concern could be perceived. The Grand Duke put a great deal of restraint forward to not sneer openly at the crotchety elder.
“Sire, please!” Elias continued. “I implore you to see reason…” A slam of a hammer-like fist shook the hall that was encased in silence. Contempt filled King Richard’s eyes as he glared at the youth.
“Reason?” The King’s voice mocked. “You intend for me to announce that there is a slew of murders on periphery orphans.” The old man hissed. “Just to get a rein on the Church?” King Richard no longer showcased an unperturbed air, his tone coated thick with sarcasm.
“I have invited emissaries to participate in this year’s debutant season. How would I look if Vicon had an open investigation on the church?” The King spoke as he wore his aristocratic indignation on his sleeve.
“The throne is a symbol of power, righteousness, but most of all, authority.” The old sovereign monologued. “Now, let me pose you a question, My Dearest Grand Duke.” King Richard’s upper-crust upbringing was melded into his tone as he cast his eyes down toward his subject. “As a ruler, what is the one resource, once lost, you cannot obtain again, no matter how hard you try?” The King asked the Grand Duke.
“I haven’t the faintest idea, Your Eminence,” Elias responded in kind.
“Trust. The trust of a people.” King Richard spoke as he squared his shoulders. “Illegal gambling dens, child trafficking." The King ticked off shaking his head. "What type of security would that leave for the people in an era who knows no strife?”
“So the children must be laid in unmarked graves as their parents are fed lies on the circumstances of their disappearance?” Elias rebuked.
“In a Kingdom as vast as Vicon, sacrifices must be made to ensure the era will prosper.” King Richard’s naturally warm and concerning tone was a stark contrast to the words he uttered.
“A foundation that is based on lies–” The Grand Duke of Devoncourt refused to relent but was stopped with a cold stare.
The King although old was not one to watch a youth criticize his rule. Scorning the Grand Duke’s inability to grasp any sense of propriety. A deep growl reverberated from King Richard’s chest.
“I will allow you to continue the investigation.” The King spoke in compromise.
“Privately– Elias.” The dropping of titles were the King’s way of manhandling the situation purely by rank. Treating Elias no better than a child that needs to be put in his place.
It was enough for any lasting respect Elias held for the King to wither away.
Without responding, Elias turned on his heel and promptly departed. The clicking of his shoes resounded off of the walls. The long white tiled floors made Elias’ face contort.
Nobles that scattered the halls tried their best to move toward the influential youth but their nerves gave out at Elias’ ashen expression. The need of wanting to scream bubbled in Elias’ throat. The face of King Richard pooled blood onto Elias’ tongue.
Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. He thought.
Elias’ breath was ragged, unable to vanquish the images of the children out of his mind’s eye. The dirt the King refused to look at was encapsulating himself. The huge hallway felt smaller as if the walls were seconds away from caving around him.
“Grand Duke Devoncourt.” The voice snapped Elias out of his thoughts. His eyes moved to the burly figure who was clutching scrolls of parchment. Marquis De Costa’s figure seemed ill-fit for scrolls as a sword or an ax were more befitting. The greeting held no intentions as the Marquis nor Elias did not bother to stop for a conversation.
“Marquis De Costa,” Elias spoke as he passed. The smell of Osmanthus found its way to his nose.
Did the De Costa manor walls decorated with Osmanthus for the aroma to stick to the skin of those who dwelled there? Or was she in the palace? Elias questioned.
Marquis De Costa nodded as his large and steady strides made his way from where Elias came. The youth paused as he eyed the Marquis's back entering the lion’s den.
The Grand Duke’s eyes finally glanced around his surroundings to find himself near the main entrance to the royal garden. His head turned a bit to search for a female figure that belonged to that aroma.
He stayed for a second longer but eventually rescinded his efforts. Straightening his shoulders, Elias made his way out of the palace.
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