Verita - The Guardian of Darkness

9 - The King's Mockery

A welcome committee of twenty or thirty servants bowed in unison, as their king and Elanthin appeared in the entrance hall. The front door made of glass and painted wood had stood wide open, allowing them to pass through without any inspection. Elanthin didn't doubt that such a luxurious palace, guarded by little more than a magic barrier, wouldn't survive for more than a few weeks on the Plains. The barrier and glass would be immediately shattered by the monsters attracted by the colors and the sweet smell of flowers – after which it would only be a matter of time until raiders took care of everything worth stealing inside.

While one of the servants took off Aetrian's fur-embellished riding cloak, Elanthin felt countless eyes resting on her. None of the servants dared to stare at her openly but she could feel the air brimming with curiosity.

Those Gratians are probably wondering about my worn-out attire, she guessed. There was no doubt that they'd been informed about her arrival but they must have expected something else. Something more akin to Gratian royalty. The little she'd seen of the kingdom's fashion was enough to tell her two things: Firstly, the Gratians prioritized useless glamour over practicality; and secondly, none of the women wore pants. Instead, their skirts were cut wide enough to serve a dozen soldiers as a bed on a night under the stars.

Elanthin couldn't help but glance at Aetrian, who was in the process of shooing away any servants that tried tending to him. His appearance fit the surroundings too perfectly, as if he'd been dressed in shades of blue with the palace's color scheme in mind. In contrast, she must look like a beggar wearing her dirty-white tunic and the riding pants made out of monster leather.

Thinking of her attire, Elanthin remembered that she was still in possession of both her swords and, following a reflex, her hands flew to check for them. A nervous murmur went through the servants, who were on stand-by, and Elanthin hurriedly took her hands off her weapons. Simultaneously, two figures stepped out of the servant crowd.

Now I've done it, thought Elanthin, but to her surprise she wasn't confronted with guards trying to confiscate her weapons. Instead, two middle-aged servants, dressed in immaculate night blue uniforms, posted themselves in front of her.

Aetrian had quietly slipped beside her and raised a hand to point at the woman. She had a calm air around her and grey strands were woven into her dark hair knot.

"Meet Laris, the head maid of the west palace. If you need to know anything connected to clothing, protocol or meals, she's the one you should look for." The women bowed deeply, while Elanthin grew more and more confused. Why was he introducing the staff to her?

"And the man next to her is our head butler, Stellan. Talk to him if you can't find me or need something that Laris isn't able to help with." Again, the short servant greeted her politely before moving to the side, where the other attendants had formed a long line.

„Oh, and most of the visible staff have received some degree of education in the Veritan language, so you'll be able to talk to them freely."

Elanthin felt absolutely lost – and she didn't like it at all. How long was the king planning for her to stay in this palace? Had she overlooked some way in which she could be of merit to him without status or land?

He must have noticed her wary gaze because Aetrian turned and smiled at her in the most innocent manner. But instead of explaining his actions, he started to hurriedly walk past the line of servants, who kept their eyes glued to the night blue carpet under his feet. Elanthin followed him, as there was no alternative. They didn't ascend the gold-railed stairs and instead followed the carpeted corridors of the ground floor further into the body of the palace.

Elanthin contemplated her current situation, while they left a row of marble-floored hallways behind them. Looks like he'll leave me alive for the moment and wait for the perfect timing to execute me, she concluded. What that perfect timing was, however, wasn't clear to her. Maybe there was a celebration of Gratia's victory over Verita, which he wanted to use, or a public trial, which needed some preparations beforehand.

If there'd been less confusion on her mind, Elanthin might have enjoyed the artistic statues and paintings that plastered the palace walls, but as things were, she payed them no mind. As foreign as they were to someone coming from the Forlorn Plains, she'd never been taught to appreciate art. All she felt, whenever she spared a painting depicting a lush forest or gold-adorned fairies a glance in passing, was humiliation. She didn't belong in this glittering world that was opening up in front of her eyes and everything about her stood in opposition to this place – from her dirty leather boots to the frustrated frown on her face. Even then, Elanthin knew that she should have belonged, if it hadn't been for the exiling of her people a millennia ago.

Finally, Aetrian slowed down in front of a double-winged door. At each side, a servant in immaculate uniform was posted. Elanthin noticed that the blue hue of their garments was brighter than those belonging to the head maid and butler. As Aetrian and her approached the servants, they hastened to open the door.

First the carriage step and now the door – the Gratians must see such unnecessary gestures as polite, concluded Elanthin, while she followed the king into a room which was flooded with sunlight but more comfortably sized than the overwhelmingly large corridors and halls. Its wallpaper depicted forest scenes of deer jumping around and beautiful people playing in a river. Their clothes looked neither Gratian nor Veritan as far as Elanthin could tell.

"Those are supposed to be magical beings who dwell in the woods; in ancient times they were known as nymphs and centaurs", explained Aetrian, when he noticed her curiosity.

Not in the mood for a history lecture, Elanthin turned away and sat down on one of the sea-green sofas. Its outrageous softness made her irritation resurface. "Why exactly am I here, Your Majesty?"

"Aren't we going to discuss the treaty?"

"Is there anything left to discuss?"

They looked at each other in frustration; at least Elanthin thought so, until she noticed the quivering of Aetrian's lips.

"I'm sorry", he said with a trembling voice. It was obvious to her that he was barely holding back his laughter. "I know it's impolite of me to–"

Elanthin sprung up, her hands closed into fists. How could he laugh at her current situation? She was ready to give up everything, including her own life, to save her people but he treated her like a joke. Was that all the Veritans were to him? Hadn't she made a mistake in entrusting her people to someone like him?

After a few more seconds of being glared at, Aetrian managed to get his expression under control but Elanthin was shaking with anger by then.

"If Your Majesty is thinking about changing the promises he's made, then –"

"On my honor", he interrupted her resolutely. The amusement had vanished from his face in a second. His words were followed by a low cough. "I might be behaving like a bastard right now but I would never touch the treaty we both agreed to. So, please calm down. Sit."

Elanthin counted to ten before she fulfilled his request. A bastard wasn't the worst description but it didn't quite meet her criteria for someone who would cut off her head and hang it over his fireplace as a trophy for house Gratia.

"First and foremost, there's something I need to make clear."