There was a part of the palace that had been converted into a place specifically for the concubines to reside. As Elric led him through the wing, Illiam saw a garden courtyard through a window. Perhaps he could get away with planting some medicinal herbs there. He would probably have to request that to the groundskeeper. 

 “Is there something wrong, Illiam?” Elric asked his friend’s son.  

“No, I was simply musing on something.” Illiam started moving again, attempting to not fall as far behind as he was previously. 

 When they had reached the room reserved for Illiam, Elric opened the door but didn’t follow the younger man in. 

“This is as far as I can go, if I am to enter your quarters my head might be on the executioner's block.” 

“Really? We’re both men, aren't we, so there shouldn’t be too much of a scandal. And you’re my father’s friend aren’t you.” 

“Yes, but you are one of the king’s concubines. Even if there is no risk of a non-royal child being born it is still illegal for a man other than the royal to enter any of the quarters without being a blood relative of the concubine.” Elric bowed, “I wish you the utmost luck, Illiam.” 

 As Elric left, Illiam for the first time since he was a student felt truly alone. 

It took several days for Illiam to settle into the new life. The king rarely appeared in the concubines’ wing leaving all of them to entertain themselves since none of them were allowed to leave the wing without his permission. They were more political hostages than wives to the king. As long as they were residing in the palace then none of their families would turn against the new king. 

 Also within the few days he lived in the wing, Illiam discovered he was the oldest of the concubines. Most of them were closer in age to the king, that he learned was only about 22 years of age. The closest of the concubines in age to Illiam was the daughter of Duke Portsmith, who was 29. 

 Her name was Margaret Portsmith and like Illiam was incredibly confused about the reasons for being chosen. 

“You think the king will come by today?” Margaret asked Illiam while working on embroidery.  

“No clue,” Illiam responded, reading through one of the books he had brought from home. “Has he even taken a single one of the concubines? Whenever he comes by he never stays long enough to invite anyone to his chambers.” 

“I swear, some of the girls have been complaining about that.” Margaret laughed, “Poor girls, I don’t think they understand that we’re just glorified hostages. Although compared to the previous time I was a political hostage this is very pleasant. The king has far more manners than Marique Des Fleur and bothers me far less.” 

“I fear I might die of boredom, honestly.” Illiam muttered. “Once I run out of books I will have nothing to occupy myself with. And besides you I have very few people to talk to.” 

“Really?”

“Yes, even the other male concubines have no interest in engaging with me. And only a few of the female ones interact with me.” Illiam chuckled, “It seems like some believe that they are not allowed to talk to me.”

“I am quite shocked that we aren’t separated.” Margaret stated, “Perhaps, the king never intended on taking any of us to bed. Although if that was the case outside men would have been allowed in. He might simply be stupid.”  She had no fear in calling the king stupid or leveling any other insult towards him. Margaret knew, as long as she didn’t say any of it to his face she wouldn't face any repercussions for it.  

“He might just be,” Illiam laughed. “My father would say ‘T'eh ny slane ommidan’* if this man wasn’t the king.” 

 As the pair chatted a maid had come in and informed them of the king’s arrival, and that he had called for Illiam. 

*Translation - “He is the perfect idiot”