Courage and Cowardice - Chapter 18
“You spoony bard! I’ve had it with you and that idiot prince!”
And while the hero, the son of Danaë, is relating these things in the midst of the company of the subjects of Cepheus, the royal courts are filled with a raging multitude; nor is the clamor such as celebrates a marriage-feast, but one which portends dreadful warfare. You might compare the banquet, changed into a sudden tumult, to the sea, which, when calm, the boisterous rage of the winds disturbs by raising its waves.
-The Metamorphoses of Ovid
“His Royal Highness, King Charles II!” the royal scrivener announced from the ballroom balcony, and a procession of trumpets introduced the royal ruler’s entrance. Though he still required a cane to carry himself, the king’s features remained proud, and he prompted a genuine chorus of claps from the lords and ladies within the ballroom.
“Her Royal Majesty, Queen Antoinette!” the royal scrivener announced, and as the queen entered, an equal applause arrived to greet her presence. When the queen instantly glided over to her husband’s side, the gallants and noblewomen all whispered and grinned in approval. What a good wife, what a perfect queen, they all thought.
After the queen, Prince Jourdain was called upon, then his bride-to-be, Princess Rosa. Neither felt at all up to a ball, but their training in royal etiquette allowed them to mask it effectively. When they clasped hands together upon their entrance, the gallants and noblewomen all murmured and beamed in elation. What a wonderful couple, what a charming young love, they all believed.
After the prince and princess, Queen Isabela was announced, then the dukes, then the noble heroes, Roland, Heroix, and Gigantix. Roland’s services in aiding the Antilian princess’ safe arrival would make him quite popular that night, and the many deeds the two indomitable Gauls had performed for their kingdom were the stuff of legends. And finally, after the heroes of the realm had taken their seats at the royal table, six new people were introduced.
“Morien, of the Songhay Empire!”
Morien stumbled stiffly into the spotlight, tugging uncomfortably at the tight neck of his outfit. Why had he agreed to wear such a gaudy costume? He knew it had been a royal request, and his commoner rags would not be proper for a royal ball, but still, as he felt the eyes of a thousand lords and ladies all focused on him, Morien felt terribly embarrassed.
“Julia Ventura, of Zarzuela!”
Julia floated elegantly across the ballroom floor, looking not at all out of place or uncomfortable in her opulent dress. Morien felt his heart turn up several hundred degrees at the sight of Julia in that dress, and he quickly averted his gaze, pretending not to notice. Judging from the reaction of the gallery of gallants, and the disapproving clucks of their female partners, it appeared Morien was not alone in his response, and Julia grinned slyly as she moved to her seat.
“Erin, of Hibernia!”
In comparison to the young sorceress who now stood in a ballroom gown, Morien looked downright relaxed. A wild, feral tenseness, like an anxious, caged animal, emanated from Erin’s twitching eyes, and the way she agitatedly played with her staff made several lords and ladies back away nervously. Kill me, Erin’s eyes seemed to say as they met Morien’s, but he was powerless to grant his friend’s request.
“Yann!”
Just as Julia had made every man forget what they had been doing, so did Yann make every noblewoman present briefly forget their station and simply stare hungrily at him. Even in the clothes of a simple bard, Yann had never been ugly. But after a royal makeover, his beauty had reached almost god-like levels. Even Morien felt a strange flutter within him, as he gazed up at the - was he sparkling? Morien peered more closely and saw that yes, yes Yann did appear to be emitting a golden aura of some sort. Merciful Ar-Rahman.
“And lastly, the Angelic Spheres, Hobie and Eva, servants to His mighty and awesome power, Lord Yehovah!”
While Hobie and Eva had not been given any sort of royal makeover, they did not need one. Their mere presence made every lord and lady in the room bow in reverence. While a few present were already familiar with Eva, for many, this was their first time meeting an Angelic Sphere, and simply meeting one was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. For two to be in the same place at the same time, it was nothing short of a miracle. Truly, Yehovah Himself must have approved of this marriage, of this crowning, of the future of this kingdom. As Hobie and Eva took their places, and King Charles rose from his seat, the ballroom fell silent, eagerly awaiting his words. Raising his glass into the air and signaling all those present to follow, Charles called for a royal toast.
“I hereby announce the beginning of the ball!” the king and his guests cheered as they downed their glasses and set the night’s festivities into motion.
Deep within the Aenon River, a presence began to wake. The fishes and frogs that swam about sensed danger, and quickly made their exit as the presence grew larger and louder. A series of red lights shone brightly, and burst forth from the presence’s hiding place, to torpedo through the river’s flow and make its way to the Aix coastline. Sailors stationed at the docks balked in fear, as they saw the water part for the glowing mass of red, and wondering whispers spread, all asking the nature of this mysterious monster. But just as soon as the lights had appeared, they disappeared with a crash against the shoreline. The momentous wave drenched the sailors and rocked their boats, but there seemed to be no impact made on the island itself. But where had the lights gone? Had they sunk within the coastal rock? Turned to dust or ghostly air? What had happened to those hellish glints of red?
“It’s come again!” a sailor cried, drawing the attention of Captain Cazador and his men, who were stationed there on their ship.
“What do you mean?” Cazador asked the Norman sailor. “What was that?”
“The Grindylow! It’s come again!” the sailor choked. “Ever since we started that blasted sewer project!”
“The what?” Cazador furrowed his brow.
“Grindylow, sir,” First Mate Usuff explained. “It’s a water spirit. They say it takes naughty children in the night and eats them.”
“And… you think this Grindylow exists?” Cazador asked the sailor.
“I knows it sir!” the sailor sputtered. “What else could explain all those men, gobbled up and disappeared-like?”
“I couldn’t say,” Cazador grunted. “When did you say the disappearances started?”
“Ever since we began that foul and beastly sewage construction!” the sailor shouted. “Oh, I knew it weren’t natural! And now the Grindylow’s taking revenge upon us for daring such blasphemy! Every week or so, since the beginning, a couple workers have been disappearing. Big, strong lads, all of them. Like, the Grindylow wants a lot of meat and such, you know? Oh, but that’s not all! Every time they disappear, the poor lads leave behind a foul, fishy stench, this kind of hellish, unnatural odor, that could only come from something like the Grindylow! Don’t you understand, sir? It must be a sign!”
“Hardly,” Cazador snorted. “I’ve seen plenty of sea monsters in my time, and from what I’ve seen they couldn’t care less about the sanitation policies of man.”
“Oh, I should’ve known you foreign types wouldn’t understand!” The sailor huffed.
“The timing is suspicious though, sir,” Usuff noted. “You don’t think it’s just a coincidence?”
“Perhaps not…” Cazador mulled. “But then why would something as trivial as a sewage system trigger the Grindylow’s wrath?”
Morien could only gawp at the swath of finished plates that lay before the dining partner who sat beside him. In one fell snort, the Gaul known as Gigantix had devoured three whole roast boars, and was currently inhaling his fourth.
“Gigantix,” Heroix sighed. “Please, this is a royal banquet. We have access to the finest delicacies in all Carolina! You can eat whatever you want!”
“I wonder if they have bananas,” Morien briefly mused aloud as he sipped his ale. It was remarkable. Though half a world away, this grain-based ale tasted just like the corn-based beer of Songhay, and as he drank it, Morien was filled with a warm remembrance of home.
“No thanks,” Gigantix slurped up the last of the grease with a childlike grin. “Nothing beats some good, old-fashioned, Gaulish, roasted, wild boar!”
“You’re incorrigible,” Heroix sighed. But it was a sigh mixed with laughter.
“Disgusting,” Roland tittered disapprovingly. “You’re just as bad as that Celtic witch!”
“Hm?” Morien, Gigantix, and Heroix all turned their heads to glance at where the female guests of honor sat, only to gawk as they noticed the stack of empty plates that had accumulated by Erin’s side.
“OMNOMNOM,” Erin was obviously taking out her frustrations on the food, and while Rosa stared in amazement at the steady flow of feeding, Julia carried on with her flirting as though nothing strange was going on. Naturally, the sight of Erin chugging down her food put rather a few gentlemen suitors off, but just as many were willing to ignore it in favor of the Iber friend who sat beside her.
“I must say…” a charming gallant began beside Julia, before a blaring belch from Erin interrupted him.
“More!” Erin fumed, as she continued to fidget uncomfortably in her dress.
“Er… anyways, as I was saying…” the gallant continued. “My darling lady, I must say, your beauty rivals even that of Princess Rosa.”
“Oh stop, really?” Julia giggled in feigned surprise.
“Really and truly, my lady,” the gallant’s grin gleamed. “Why, if I did not know any better, I should think the two of you were twins, separated at birth.”
For some strange reason, a sudden shadow fell upon Queen Isabela’s face at that remark.
“Go ply your parlor tricks somewhere else, grifter,” Isabela growled. “I can smell your schemes a mile away.”
“Yeah, sard off!” Erin howled.
“Mother!” Rosa gasped. “What was that for?”
Julia, her expression not the slightest bit changed, kicked Erin from beneath the table, though the young Celt simply kicked back in response.
“Very well then,” the gallant huffed. “My honor has been insulted. I shall see myself away.”
“Oh no!” Julia continued her act, even as her feet were in the midst of a great battle of kicks beneath the table. “Please, my noble gallant, stay with me? You must forgive the queen. Her Norman is still a little rusty. As is mine. I could do with a few lessons, if you might, er, help me out on that front?”
“Certainly not! My mind’s made up! Good day to you,” the gallant strutted sulkily away.
“Ugh,” Julia sighed once he had escaped her grasp for good. “Thanks a lot, your majesty.”
“Really mother, how could you be so cruel?” Rosa asked.
“How could you be so blind?” Isabela countered. “I thought I taught you better than that. You should have been able to smell that fellow out before he even reached the table. He was as crooked as they come.”
“I knew that!” Julia moaned. “But sard it all! I haven’t had it in weeks.”
“It’s overrated, anyway!” Erin began to scarf down the recently-deposited boar on her plate.
“I, uh, I’m afraid I don’t know much about it,” Rosa blushed.
“Well, it is what it is,” Isabela said.
From where the men sat, Gigantix’s heart was all atwitter.
“Wow,” he sighed. “She’s really something, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, I guess she is,” Morien chuckled.
“Are you two talking about the same girl?” Heroix wasn’t sure.
“Say, you know that girl, don’t you?” Gigantix turned excitedly to Morien. “Could you introduce me? I’ll happily share my boar with her.”
“Erin? Uh, s-sure, I guess,” Morien was slightly surprised by the Gaul’s request, but supposed it couldn’t hurt to comply. “D’you want to ask her to dance?”
“Oh yeah, I could totally do that! Thanks!” Gigantix’s eyes lit up, and he jolted from his seat to where Erin was eating.
“Say,” Heroix extended a hand to Morien. “You know, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Heroix.”
“Oh, uh, hi. I’m Morien,” Morien shook the Gaul’s hand and smiled.
“Pleasure to meet you Morien,” Heroix grinned. “So tell me, the scrivener said you were from Songhay. How’d you wind up all the way here?”
“Well,” Morien laughed. “It’s, uh, it’s a bit of a long story.”
After the guests had eaten their fill, one by one they began to join the dance. Prince Jourdain was the first to offer his hand to Princess Rosa, and as they danced just as a prince and princess ought to, the noble lords and ladies continued to whisper and chatter approvingly.
“Such grace, such poise.”
“Truly they are two lovers made for each other.”
“Indeed, I must say, even Prince Louis, Yehovah rest his soul, could not have chosen a finer man to take his bride.”
“Their love shall be remembered like the love of Tristan and Iseult.”
“Or Heloise and Abelard.”
“Or Romeo and Juliet.”
Morien heard those names and sighed, for unlike most people who quoted such famous love stories, he had actually read them, and knew how they ended; just like the story of Philip and Jeanne, in tragedy and heartache.
Gigantix came lumbering back to his seat, his broken heart on his sleeve.
“Aw, didn’t go well?” Heroix queried consolingly.
“Sh-she said I seemed really nice but she just didn’t feel like it with this stupid dress on,” Gigantix sniffled.
“I’m sorry,” Morien said. “She’s really nice once you get to know her, honest.”
“Yeah Gigantix,” Heroix smiled. “I’m sure you just caught her at the wrong time.”
“Just as well,” Roland tutted. “Such common stock is beneath you.”
“Hey, why don’t you shut up?” Heroix snapped.
“Y-yeah, buzz off!” Morien said.
“Very well then,” Roland sighed. “While you continue to gorge yourself on boar, I shall be wooing women befitting my proper station. Good day.”
“Man, what a jerk,” Heroix grumbled as the knight walked over to a crowd of cooing girls.
Indeed, Yann appeared behind Morien. However, the bard conceded that Roland was on to something when it came to the matter of wooing women.
“Ah, hey, you’re that guy!” Heroix said. “The bard guy our chief’s been so out-of-sorts over.”
“Yeah! What did you do to him?” Gigantix asked.
“You mean you don’t know?” Morien was surprised.
“Afraid not,” Heroix shrugged. “We remember this guy when he visited our village some time ago, but as for what went on between him and the chief, it’s been kept mum.”
“So, what did happen, Yann?” Morien turned to his bardic friend.
However, at that moment, Yann had more pressing concerns, as he pointed expectantly towards Julia, who still sat waiting patiently for some gallant to sweep her off her feet and take her to the dance floor.
“Wh-what?” Morien sputtered. “Come on, don’t try to change the subject!”
“Ohohohoh!” Heroix grinned. “Is that the lady you’ve set your sights on wooing?”
“Good luck with that,” Gigantix sighed.
“Hang on what about that big important secret thing that happened with your chief?” Morien shrieked. “Isn’t that more important? Haha! Hahaha!”
“Maybe, but this is more interesting,” Heroix chuckled.
Yann continued to point, with greater urgency now, but Morien continued to ignore him, as he instead turned his attention towards a potential source of help. Where was Hobie to defuse the situation? Oh, there he was, surrounded by clergymen and Eva discussing clerical matters. Curse that Hobie! Why did he have to have a personal connection with Ar-Rahman Himself? Finally, Morien was forced to deal with the situation at hand, as he was assailed by the vigorous shakings, pointings, and shoutings of his surrounding peers.
“You fool! Look!” Heroix pointed.
“She’s getting away!” Gigantix shouted.
Yann shook Morien vigorously as a strapping young gentleman took Julia’s hand and led her to dance.
“W-well, good for her. I’m happy she’s found someone to dance with,” Morien huffed as he began to die a little on the inside. His saphie was clutched so tightly then, he could feel its imprint in his hand.
Yann sighed in frustration. Obviously this would require a more direct approach.
“Come on Morien,” Heroix sighed.
“Didn’t you want to dance with her?” Gigantix asked.
“N-no,” Morien lied, before he was suddenly swept off his feet by a graceful bard.
“Wha- hey!” Morien cried, as Yann gracefully swept him away towards the ballroom floor. Morien had two left feet and no experience when it came to ballroom dancing, but with Yann’s elegant lead, even one as uncoordinated as Morien could easily keep in step.
“Haha! Hey, way to go!” Heroix called after the two boys.
“Yeah! You go get her!” Gigantix cried.
As the noble lords and ladies saw the beautiful bard lithely leap with his disgruntled dance partner, a buzz of whispers and chitters spread like wildfire amongst them all. Oh what fun, what farce! Surely these foreigners were having a delightful jest, for the amusement of both themselves and the landed gentry.
“I say,” an ancient Yeshuan clergyman adjusted his spectacles at the sight. “Is this some sort of Rahmanite practice?”
“I’m sure you’re giving it far too much thought, Father,” Hobie glowed. “No, merely a harmless bit of fun on my bardic companion’s part.”
“Yes, nothing more than a silly game,” Eva sighed.
“Well then,” an even-more-elderly deacon wheezed. “I suppose we ought to join in.”
Cries of “Jolly good!” and “Splendid!” erupted from the clergy, as they all took a partner and hobbled onto the dance floor, the creaking of joints and shortness of breath posing little obstacle to their fun.
“Oh dear,” Hobie sighed.
“Pardon me. May I cut in?” a charming gallant tapped a nobleman on the shoulder.
“You certainly may!” his partnered peeress cried, very obviously taken by the gallant’s beauty.
“Thank you,” he said, as he took the nobleman by the shoulder and began to dance in a manner most mirthful.
“Well, you know, boys will be boys,” a priest chuckled as he danced past the perturbed peeress.
“Allow me,” the Boss of Brittany took her for himself.
“Oh! Why thank you,” the peeress may have lost a noble hawk, but she had captured a majestic eagle.
“What! Are! You! Doing!?!” Morien cried as he was spun round and round and round in accordance with the music.
Yann kept mum, his twinkling eyes betraying no secrets.
“Tell me, milady,” Julia’s dance partner asked. “Aren’t those two friends of yours?”
“Hm?” Julia turned to glance at the dancing pair, and Yann spotted his chance. Casting his most ethereal aura, the kind no man or woman could resist, the bard slid skillfully towards his quarry, and made preparation for the trade-off.
But just as he had nearly pounced upon his prey, Yann was cut off by none other than Saint Joan and Chief Gastronomix! Laughing gaily and with the utmost of merriment, the two dukes stepped in before Yann could capture the prize that he sought!
“Mind if we swap?” Joan’s nose crinkled as she smiled.
“N-not at all!” the gallant grinned as he, ignoring the subtle protests of Julia, took the duchess in his arms, and left Julia with the well-upholstered chief.
“Er, my apologies madam,” Gastronomix coughed. “I know I’m not much of a replacement, and, er, now that I think about it, I probably shouldn’t be here anyhow. My wife is only several hundred miles away after all! Haha! Hahaha!”
“No, it’s fine,” Julia sighed forlornly as she watched a bottle of medicine dance farther and farther away.
Alas, Yann cursed his terrible luck! The one person in the ball he did not wish to dance with. Why had fate foisted such a frightful future upon him? Ah well, Yann cast a glance at his discombobulated partner, and steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation. If such was necessary for the sake of his friend, then Yann would take it with a smile.
Pardon me, Yann steeled his breath as he flung Morien upon the terribly surprised Julia and took the consternated Gastronomix in his arms.
“What! I! You! What is the meaning of this!?!” Gastronomix sputtered.
Farewell my friend, Yann wept. It was all up to Morien now.
“Morien!” Julia was surprised but not displeased. “Hey! Fancy winding up with you as a partner.”
“J-Julia!” Morien stammered. “I… uh… that is…”
Morien was now so close to Julia he could smell the perfume that she wore, touch the fabric that she sported, see every lovely detail of her grinning, somewhat confused but still enthusiastic face. And in that moment, the words his father had written on that saphie came to Morien, and he could think of nothing else. His mouth is sweet and true; he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, my friend, O daughters of Yerushalem. Oh merciful Ar-Rahman! Morien began to melt inside as he realized that he had fallen truly and deeply, madly and irrevocably in love with Julia. He wanted to dance with her forever and ever. He wanted to stay just like this, just the two of them, hand to hand, cheek to cheek, step to step, heart to heart, forever and always.
I love you, Julia, he thought. I love how you’re brave and you don’t care what the world says. I love how you can toss aside any insult, any taunt and any slander, and claim it as a mark of pride. I love how you care, even if you say you don’t, about doing the right thing and helping those who need it. I love how you take what you want, instead of idly sitting by, letting fear give way to inaction. I love how you’re strong, even after everything you’ve lost. I don’t know everything that has happened to you. I don’t know what pain and sadness you have experienced in your life, but I do know that I want to be there for you. I want you to know there is someone who believes in you, who will stick by you until the end. Because, in the end, the thing I love most about you is the fact that you believe in me. You know I’m not some knight from those fairy stories, dashing in on my white charger. You know I’m just a stupid, naïve kid. But you still believe in me. You still know what I all too often forget, that I can be a great person, when I really set my mind to it. Oh Julia, Morien’s heart cried out, I love you so much!
But though his heart swelled with a love so great that it threatened to burst, Morien’s lips remained sealed and unsure. How could he say such a foolish thing? Julia and he were friends, nothing more and nothing less. And besides, his thoughts took a darker turn, Julia had been with so many men before. How could he possibly measure up?
“So,” Julia’s awkward chuckle brought Morien back to reality. “I, uh, I guess you don’t have much experience?”
“Uh…” Morien stammered.
“With dancing, I mean,” Julia glanced at Morien’s two left feet.
“Oh!” Morien gulped. “I, uh, n-no… at least, not this sort of dancing.”
“Well, what sort of dancing do you have experience with?” Julia asked.
“I, well…” Morien thought back. “Sometimes… my mom and me… yeah, when there was a celebration in town, the imam would pull out an old drum, and we would dance together, just the three of us. We couldn’t join everybody else, so we would just dance on our own. And it wasn’t a fancy ballroom dance, just whatever sort of moves we felt best fit the music. But… it was nice.”
“Well, why don’t you start doing what moves you feel best fit the music now?” Julia chuckled. “Instead of getting all nervous and slowfooted.”
Morien blinked, as the suggestion began to register in his mind. As he thought it over again and again, he realized Julia was right. Slowly his shoulders stopped their stiffening, his knees ceased their shaking, and his eyes paused from their skittish darting about. Just enjoy yourself, a calm and gentle voice whispered in his ear, and Morien began to sway and turn just as it felt right to do.
“See?” Julia grinned. “Isn’t this way more fun?”
“Yeah!” Morien laughed. And then, purely on the spur of the moment, he cried out “Julia! I lo-”
“May I cut in?” a gorgeous gallant swept Julia up, leaving Morien all by himself on the dance floor. As Morien stared blankly at the sight of Julia dancing happily with her newfound partner, the young man felt a deep, overwhelming sadness swallow him whole.
“Yeah, I don’t have much experience,” Morien muttered miserably.
“Say, did you hear?”
Esmeralda looked up from her pot-scrubbing, as her ears perked up to the sound of kitchen maid gossip.
“No, what?” the other kitchen girl asked.
“Word round the castle is the prince has some radical agenda in store.”
“Oh no!” the girl gasped. “We’re not going to war again are we?”
“No no,” the maid whispered. “No, it seems the prince wants to issue abolition! Free the slaves!”
“You mean us?”
“Who else? I don’t see anybody else scrubbing these dishes!”
Esmeralda gulped as she hurriedly recommenced her cleaning.
“But… what are we supposed to do with freedom?” the kitchen girl asked.
“What else? See the world, settle down on a plot of land, find a husband or three!” the maid cackled.
“But then who’s going to clean these dishes?”
“I don’t care! They can get a servant for that! So long as I’m free, I won’t stick around here.”
“Servant or slave,” the kitchen girl sighed. “What’s the difference? In the end it still means we’re scrubbing dishes.”
“I’m not!” the maid cried. “I’ve had enough of this! Being beaten and abused, treated like I was some common animal! See these scars here?”
The kitchen girl gasped as she noticed the burn marks on the maid’s arm.
“Got them for messing up her royal majesty’s breakfast one morning. You know how she likes everything to be exact!”
“She scares me,” the kitchen girl shuddered.
“Well she can kiss my foot, soon as I get my freedom,” the maid grinned. “I’ll bet it’ll kill her, knowing she can’t loose her dogs on me for trying to escape. I’ll be able to leave and she won’t be able to do a thing about it!”
“But what if she just finds some other reason to loose her dogs on you?” the kitchen girl asked. “It’s not like we’d be able to challenge her in a court of law. She is the law, her and the rest of the royal family.”
“I don’t care!” the maid fumed. “I’d rather die free than live another minute like this.”
“I hope you get it then,” the kitchen girl smiled sadly. “I can’t see myself doing anything else though.”
“But the world! So long as you have your wits and your wiles about you, it can all be yours!”
“I don’t have much wits,” the kitchen girl said. “I can’t even read. And besides, even with wits and wiles, a girl my age, I couldn’t survive without a friend, and I don’t have any of those outside here. No family, no friends, no knowing how to do anything but scrub dishes.”
“Fine then!” the maid hissed, as she lugged a tray of clean dishes away. “Rot in this hole! See if I care!”
The kitchen girl started to say something, but as she saw the disgust etched into the maid’s features, she thought better of it. In mournful silence, the kitchen girl continued her scrubbing, alone and unknown to those who lived in the world of lords and ladies.
“I could be your friend,” Esmeralda spoke up.
“What?” the kitchen girl glanced at her in surprise.
“If you need a friend, I can be it,” Esmeralda said. “We have to stick together, after all.”
“Th-thank you,” the kitchen girl seemed almost taken aback by Esmeralda’s kindness, as though it were some alien concept.
“Do… do you really think the prince will free the slaves?” the girl asked.
Esmeralda stared into the pot that rested on her lap. She could see her face, staring back at her, the pot had been so thoroughly scrubbed. She still remembered the first time she had seen her own face. Jourdain had snuck her into his room, back when they both could not even reach the waists of the adults around them. Shuffling a chair, so that Esmeralda might climb upon it, Jourdain had shown her the mirror that stood on the desk in his chambers. Esmeralda had been amazed, had dipped and dove her head, had struck every funny face she could think of, had tied and twisted her hair just to see how it looked to do so, and in the end she and Jourdain had laughed and laughed and laughed. They hadn’t known any better back then, hadn’t realized the different classes in which they lived. And even as they had grown older, as Esmeralda’s proper place was more and more thoroughly drilled into her, Jourdain still had never caught on. He had never changed the way he saw things. Esmeralda was the girl he loved, and so he had never bothered to view her as anything else.
Silly boy, she sighed sadly.
“Yes,” Esmeralda replied. “I’m sure he will.”
“Do you think it’ll change anything though?”
To that question, Esmeralda had no sure answer.
“I don’t know. But I hope it will.”
For a while the two girls remained in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Then suddenly, Esmeralda remembered.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I never said. My name. I’m Esmeralda.”
“Ah, right,” the kitchen girl realized as well. “Sorry, my name’s Illyria.”
“Illyria,” Esmeralda smiled. “Well, now that we know each other’s names, I guess that makes us officially friends.”
“I guess so,” Illyria grinned.
“Don’t you want to join them?” Isabela asked a fat and happy Erin. “It looks like fun.”
“Naw thanks,” Erin grinned sleepily. “I feel foolish enough in this get-up. And besides, it’s best not to suddenly move too much after you’ve finished a meal.”
“I see,” Isabela glanced at the pile of plates in front of the young sorceress. “And you are… quite finished?”
“Oh yeah,” Erin said. “I don’t think I even have room for dessert!”
“Dessert, madam,” a slave placed a bowl of brightly-colored spheres before her. “Frozen snow; a royal prerogative, under normal circumstances.”
Erin stared dumbstruck at the tantalizing treat, just waiting to be devoured by her. The soft, creamy texture, the cold, yet stunningly sweet smell, the bits of fruit and drizzled honey mixed within. It was too much! Erin craved it, needed it, was consumed with a desire to gulp down every last, delectable drop.
But she was so full! It wasn’t fair!
“Frozen snow?” Isabela was amazed. “I thought it was a myth, a tale from far-off Jianghu.”
“Oh no, your highness,” the slave shook his head. “I assure you, it exists, and made its way to the East through the trials and tribulations of many a trader. Our royal family happens to possess the only surviving recipe in all Augusta, indeed in all the world outside of Jianghu. To be allowed to eat such a fine delicacy, it is perhaps the greatest honor our cooks could bestow upon you.”
“Gaaah!” Erin screeched as she stormed away from her seat. “Fine! I’ll go cast some magic! Burn some calories! Keep that snow chilled!”
“Of course, madam,” the slave bowed.
Meanwhile, Morien was mournfully making his way to the punch bowl. He needed a good punch right now, to counter the one dealt to his gut. Before he could drown his sorrows though, a hand slipped slyly onto his shoulder, and a crafty whisper wafted into his ear.
“My dear friend, such action is uncalled for,” the Boss of Brittany purred protectively. “Why not have a dance with me? It seems just the sort of thing to put your mind at ease.”
“Uh… okay,” Morien sighed. He didn’t see how it could hurt. And so, without any further ado, he let himself be led back into the ball.
“Might I inquire as to the source of your troubles?” Morgan asked as they began to waltz. “You seem truly out of sorts.”
“Just… stuff,” Morien mumbled.
“Stuff?” Morgan laughed. “Land, if we do not all have ‘stuff’ in our lives. But you yourself, I must say, seem particularly, er, stuffed, as it were. The source of this stuff, I can only assume, is the affections of a certain young lady. Am I mistaken, or have I struck upon the truth, eh?”
Morien tried to mask his emotions, but his instinctual flinch at the duke’s accusations gave him away, and Morgan grinned in a manner most conniving.
“It appears I have struck gold in my guess,” Morgan spun Morien around. “And, if I may go further, I would say the certain young lady in question is none other than Julia Ventura. Have I guessed fair?”
Morien sighed. There was little point in denying it.
“Yeah,” he chanced a glance at the merchant, dancing gaily with her newfound partner.
“My dear boy,” Morgan cooed. “Give no mind to such a girl. Why, she’s not exactly virgo intacta, if you’ll pardon my Aenean.”
“I know,” Morien moaned. “And I’m just… me.”
“Er,” Morgan grimaced ever-so-slightly. “My boy, I don’t believe I made myself clear. You seem like a fine enough lad. It would be a shame for you to get entangled with her sort.”
“…Huh?” Morien did not understand.
“Land, were you born slow, or must I speak in smaller words?” Morgan groaned. “Take it from me, boy, that girl is best left to rot.”
“What are you saying?” Morien started to get angry.
“Is it so indecipherable?” Morgan cried. “She’s a slattern! A wanton! When she dies, they shall have to bury her in a y-shaped coffin! My boy, Julia Ventura is a dirty woman.”
At the sound of those words, something deep and primal snapped inside Morien. He knew those words well. He had heard them all his life growing up. Every time Morien and his mother would be excluded from polite society, every time a disapproving husband or gossiping wife would glare at the pair of them, every time the bullies would beat Morien simply for existing, those two, ugly words would be tossed just as violently as one would throw a spear. And Pakeezah, Morien’s mother, she had borne those words with a pride and grace Morien could not possibly imagine, because she was his mother, and she was willing to put up with anything for the sake of her child. But still he knew how those words hurt her, still he rued and cursed those that so cruelly judged his mother, still he wished that there was something, anything, he could do to take that pain away. And now here Morgan was, just as smugly dismissing Morien’s dearest friend.
“You…” Morien’s voice began to quiver. “People like you…”
“Pardon?” Morgan cocked his brow.
“People like you…” Morien’s boiling rage began to bubble forth. “Who are you to judge her? Who are you to… to talk about how horrible she is, how she’s a… a… people like you are the reason my mother couldn’t leave the mosque! Why she was even there in the first place! What right do you have to judge her? You… I hate you! I hate all you stupid, superior idiots! You’re nothing but a bully! Do you hear me? A BULLY!”
The other guests were starting to take notice of Morien’s outburst, and Morgan quickly tried to calm the young man down.
“Er, now look,” Morgan laughed nervously. “There’s no need to get upset. I was merely thinking of your own best interests. Surely you can-”
“No! You’re a bully!” Morien stormed away, his face flushed with an equal mixture of loathing, sorrow, and timidity. How could he have blown up like that in front of all those people? They were probably still staring at him. As he heard their gossiping whispers, Morien fled for the safety of the outdoor balcony. This had turned into a terrible night.
After collapsing on the balcony railing, Morien began to mope. How dare Morgan spout such slander? How dare he talk about Julia as though she were some piece of trash? Morien fervently hoped that Julia danced with every single eligible bachelor in the ball that night. Every single one. That would make her happy, wouldn’t it? And if she was happy, Morien was happy.
Wasn’t he?
What a night. Morien stared forlornly at the starlit sky. Here he was, in none other than Carolina, the land from where so many of the Valiants had come. Arthur, Orlando, Beowulf, Amadix, they had all come from this land; a land of honor and chivalry. Morien had dreamed of coming to this land as a child, dreamed of becoming a knight just as brave and noble as those he had known from books. And now he had finally made it, and he felt miserable.
Morien wished the night would end soon.
Erin grumbled as she paced down the castle halls, swinging her staff fitfully all the while. How could she get away with using some magic? A powerful blast of energy ought to clear up enough room for that delectable treat that waited for her, but she could hardly do such a thing within the castle itself. She might tear down a wall on accident, or worse. Erin needed to find a way outside. Maybe she could shoot out some explosive blasts into the night sky, something bright and flashy to amuse and excite everyone. That would be fitting, considering the occasion, and it would certainly burn enough energy to make room for that frozen snow. Erin’s mouth began to water as she thought of that glistening, gleaming gourmet dessert. She’d best hurry, she thought, as she quickened her pace.
Suddenly though, Erin noticed a flash of black dart across the castle walls, some distance in front of her, and at once she was alert. Her staff poised at the ready, Erin pressed herself to the wall, paced slowly in the direction of the shadow’s source, and peered through the candlelit hall, trying to see if it was dangerous or not.
To her surprise, Erin saw that it was none other than the Chevalier Ténèbre, sprinting silently through the halls like a man possessed. Just what could he be up to? Erin wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it couldn’t hurt to find out. Making sure she was a safe distance behind the darting dark knight, Erin stealthily began to follow.
“Whew!” Julia collapsed on a chair, worn out from all her dancing. “That was fun!”
“I aim to please, milady,” the gallant whose tender, thewful arms had only just recently held her bowed politely.
“Well,” Julia grinned glazedly as she fanned herself with her hand. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate some punch. Then perhaps… a more private form of entertainment?”
“Your wish is my command,” the gallant smiled as he went to fulfill her request. As he walked over to the punch bowl, Julia took a moment to admire the shape of his moving figure from behind, before glancing round the ballroom in the hopes of spotting her friends.
Yann she saw dancing awkwardly with Gastronomix, Rosa with the prince beside her. Erin she had seen leave earlier, but as for Morien, where was that boy? Julia craned her neck, hoping to spot him, but to no avail. Had he wandered off somewhere? Yes, perhaps snuck out with Erin, to dance a more private type of dance. They suited each other. The thought of them together made Julia happy, and yet, it was less happy than she felt she should have been. She didn’t understand why. Morien and Erin were both so sweet, and Julia had given many an encouraging remark Morien’s way. So why was the happy thought of them together now laced with a tinge of melancholy? What could have brought about such a mood?
Julia cast her gaze out the window, to see clearly into the night sky and perhaps clear out her own cluttered thoughts. When she noticed Morien standing there all alone though, she found the clutter and confusion only growing deeper. What had happened to Morien? Why did he look so downcast and glum? All thoughts of thewful gallants suddenly left Julia’s mind, as she began to worry about the state of her friend.
When the gallant came back with the drinks, he found to his surprise that Julia was no longer there. She had left, but where had she gone?
“Uh… what’s that sound?”
Illyria glanced at the sink, where the scum from the recently-washed dishes now dribbled down. For some reason, the pipes were shaking and moaning, as though something was struggling to get out.
“This always happens,” Illyria sighed. “Gee, plumbing’s really made things easier, but it’s such a pain when this happens.”
“What should we do?” Esmeralda asked.
“We’ll have to ask for a charm. But then there’s a bunch of hoops to jump through of course.”
“True,” Esmeralda sighed. Slaves were not permitted to learn magic, or use charms without the supervision of a master.
“I guess I’d better get going,” Illyria made her way to the door.
“I’ll come with you,” Esmeralda said, before a geyser of filth erupted from the sink.
Esmeralda and Illyria screamed as the geyser spurted forth, frothing and swaying as though it were alive. The bubbling bile blasted across the whole kitchen, with a fury and a fervor that could only be the work of a malevolent force. Soon most of the kitchen’s cookery was coated in a cake of mud, and to make matters worse, a rolling mass of red-glowing eyes now came from the pipes as well. But the worst, the most horrifying thing of all, a dank, fishy smell had now descended upon the kitchen, threatening to suffocate the two girls in its intoxicating stench.
Illyria almost screamed before a quick hand from Esmeralda covered the girl’s mouth. Glancing at Esmeralda, Illyria saw her green eyes telegraph a plea to remain quiet, and she slowly led the kitchen girl towards the door. Whatever the mass of red lights was, it hadn’t yet noticed either of them, and if they could just keep it that way until they made their escape, they would be okay.
Slowly the mass began to melt and separate, until there stood three tiny figures in the sink, each with their own pair of glowing red eyes. Despite being just as caked in mud as the kitchen’s crockery, the two girls could tell one of the figures was the leader from the way it barked orders to the other two. They could also tell that whatever the creatures were, they were more focused on bickering with each other than they were on hunting prey. In a series of quick-paced and high-tempoed whistles and squeaks, the leader berated their companions over something, before hitting one of them upside the head. This prompted a series of slaps to the face, kicks to the shin, and pokes to the eye amongst the trio, until at last they settled down, hopped out of the sink, and examined one of the only pots left clean from their explosive entrance. More whistles, more squeaks, and an occasional chirrup now signaled that the figures had found something to their liking, but whatever it was, that hardly mattered to Esmeralda. She and Illyria were almost at the door now. If they could just make it out and warn someone, they’d be safe. Quietly, sneakily, they crept, until Esmeralda at last was close enough to whip her arm to the doorknob just in time to hear a deafening knock from the other side.
For a moment everyone stood stock-still in silence, frozen in surprise and disbelief. Then, the creatures noticed Illyria and Esmeralda standing there, and began to chirrup and chortle in glee. Quickly they ran up to the two girls, carrying the pot between themselves, and whistling in an inquisitive tone. Illyria screamed, as one might scream in the presence of an enormous cockroach, and Esmeralda cried out to whoever was on the other side of the door.
“Monsters! From the sink! Get help!” she called out, and at the sound of her voice, a razor-sharp blade hacked its way through the door, prompting a screech from the creatures, a scream from Illyria, and a disbelieving stare from Esmeralda.
With a series of hacks and slashes, the door soon came crashing down, and a black-armored figure plunged his blade towards a terrified Esmeralda, murder in his eyes. Just before his sword could pierce her heart though, another figure, clad in a frilly and unwieldy dress, leapt on top of the figure’s head with a warrior’s battle-cry, halting his homicide and planting his face to the ground.
“Hi. I’m Erin. Nice to meet you,” the figure grinned, before the Chevalier leapt back to his feet and swung his sword towards her.
Only the well-timed placement of Erin’s staff saved her, as the force from the blow sent her reeling. The dark knight did not halt his assault for a single moment though, and Erin barely found enough time for a chant and a sneeze as he continued to hack and slash at her. With the spell completed Erin let loose a blast that sent the Chevalier reeling across the room, but she knew that would only grant a moment’s respite. She needed to get his targets to safety.
“You!” Erin called out to Esmeralda and Illyria. “Both of you! Come with me!”
Just a minute, the trio garbled and howled. They had need of these two young ladies as well! They weren’t going to just let this young upstart slide in and take them away. Quickly one of the creatures began to cast a spell of some sort, aimed straight at Erin, before a blow from the sprinting Chevalier caused the magic to hit Illyria instead.
All at once the two other creatures cried out and rushed over to their injured companion, Erin moved to intercept the dark knight’s path, and Esmeralda ran over to her friend, who was now changing before everyone’s eyes. Before she could even speak, Illyria’s body had wriggled and shrunk to the shape and size of the creatures. But without the muck and grime on her, Esmeralda could see what the creatures were, what Illyria had become. Before her now stood a humanoid frog, staring down at its webby hands in shock and disbelief.
“What the-?” Erin cried as she crossed weapons with the Chevalier. With another chant, sneeze, and strike to the man’s head, Erin whipped her head towards the frogmen, who were now casting a healing spell on their whimpering and wounded brethren.
“You’re frogmen!” Erin shouted. “But what are you doing here?”
Before the frogmen answered, one of them cast a flashing hex, that flew over Erin’s head and hit the Chevalier with a tremendous force.
“Th-thanks!” Erin called out breathlessly. “But, wait! If you’re frogmen, then that means-”
Erin gasped as the Chevalier’s sword plunged deep into her stomach. How? Erin shuddered as she looked behind her, and saw the dark knight’s eyes gleaming without a hint of pain or exhaustion. But she and the frogmen had hit the Chevalier with enough force to kill an elephant! How could he even still be standing? How could he have tossed aside their offenses so easily? And how could she have let her guard down like that? Erin cursed herself for a fool as she fell to the floor. Before she could do anything, the frogmen had cast another spell, this time on Esmeralda, and before the Chevalier could reach them, the four of them had transformed into a writhing mass that plunged deep into the plumbing once more. With a howl and a curse, the knight kicked down a shelf of plates in anger before dashing out of the room, his mission still not complete.
The froggy Illyria waddled over to Erin, chirping out a cry of concern.
“D-don’t worry,” Erin grinned. “I’ll be fine. Just need to cast a healing spell.”
As the young sorceress sounded out a chant and a sneeze, her mind was ablaze with a million questions. How could frogmen still be in this world? What were they doing there tonight? Why had they taken that girl? Why had the Chevalier wanted to kill her? What was going on? Erin did not know, but she had a feeling that, before the night was over, she would soon find out.
“Hey.”
Morien turned around in surprise, to see Julia standing there, a smile on her lips.
“Uh… hi,” Morien gulped.
“So… what’s up?” Julia asked. “The dance is back inside, you know.”
“Uh, y-yeah, I know,” Morien mumbled. “J-just… uh…”
How exactly was he to explain what had happened with the Boss of Brittany? Without warning his thoughts erupted in a flare of fancy, and he saw himself as a strong-armed, barrel-chested brave, soft and tender words pouring from his lips.
Yes Julia, his fancy cooed coyly. I could not bear to hear that roguish boss besmirch your honorable name, for you see, I love you! I gave that Morgan what-for for his uncouth words.
Oh Morien! His fancy of Julia cried. How brave! How noble! How daring! Take me in your arms and kiss me!
No, no, no! Morien cleared his thoughts toot sweet. What sort of fantasy was that? Julia wouldn’t talk like that. If she had heard what Morgan had said, she’d probably just laugh. Words meant nothing to her. And besides, a knight in shining armor had even less chance of romancing Julia than Morien did. He was utterly pathetic.
“Morien?” Julia waved a hand in front of the boy who was lost in his thoughts. “Anybody in there?”
“Ah! Uh! Um! Uh…” Morien stammered.
“Did something happen?” Julia asked concernedly.
“Uh, n-no,” Morien mumbled. “Nothing happened. I just wanted some air, that’s all.”
“Something did happen, didn’t it?” Julia pressed on.
“N-no!” Morien insisted. “It really-”
“Morien,” Julia’s eyes glimmered as she cast a heartfelt gaze his way. “If something happens to you, you can come to me, to all of us. We’re friends, remember?”
“Friends,” Morien murmured. That was right. Julia was his friend; his first friend. Morien remembered all those years spent alone in his room, the only friends around being those he could find in a book. And now he was on a quest with not just one, but four wonderful friends. He couldn’t jeopardize that. He loved Julia. He knew it in his heart. But if he let that love loose, released it into the realm of speech and action, what would happen to that friendship he had made? He couldn’t chance it, couldn’t take such a risk. It hurt, to keep this feeling caged in, but taking a step back, Morien could see it was the best way, the only way. And who knew? Maybe one day he would forget this feeling. Maybe it would fade just as it had with Erin. He hoped so. He truly hoped so.
“Yeah,” Morien smiled. “Friends. Sorry.”
“So what happened?” Julia asked.
“Uh… just… that boss guy.”
“Morgan.”
“Yeah. He was being a jerk.”
“He usually is,” Julia groaned.
That was right, Morien remembered. Julia had known Morgan before all this. Wait! A terrible thought clutched at Morien’s throat. Had they…?
“Seriously, all I did was steal some of his technology!” Julia griped. “I thought I could get even after he swindled me with that stupid sword.”
“Wait,” Morien furrowed his brow. “The same sword you swindled me with?”
“Uh…” Julia blushed. “Oopsie.”
Morien stared blankly at Julia.
“…Oopsie?”
“I’m trying to be cute. It usually helps people forgive me.”
“Well stop it. It’s weird.”
“See? This is how things should be!” Julia tried to veer the subject in another direction. “You and me, bantering and bickering, just like old times!”
“I don’t know if I’d call it old really, I mean-”
“And then you get all pedantic…”
“Wh- hey!” Morien’s face flushed.
“And then flustered…”
“W-! I-! Y-!” Morien stammered.
“And then I make some quip that makes you even more flustered…”
“What like how I’m really cute when I get that way?”
Julia’s eyes widened as she froze in self-consciousness.
“I… you… I actually…”
“Yes, that was an actual thing that you actually said!” Morien cried. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten it!”
“Ha! Haha! Hahaha! So! Uh, why don’t we just forget about this completely and never discuss it ever again?” Julia gulped.
“Don’t think you’ll get out of this so easily!” Morien griped. “No ‘oopsie’ is going to work on me!”
“Then how about a dance?” Julia asked point-blank.
“Wh-what?” Morien blinked.
“Uh! As friends, I mean,” Julia quickly clarified.
“Oh,” Morien laughed lamely. “Uh, yeah. Friends. Haha. Ha…”
What was this? Julia had expected some countering quip, some huffing rebuttal. But instead of puffing up like he ought to have, it seemed as though Morien had simply deflated. Julia was caught off-guard by Morien’s sudden disappointment.
“Uh… I m-mean, I know you’d much rather be dancing with Erin after all,” Julia chuckled nervously. “B-but you’ll never woo her if you can’t… uh… dance! You know, a proper ballroom dance, that is. Women love that sort of thing.”
“W-would you cut that out?” Morien sighed.
“What?”
“That whole Erin business. Erin and I are friends. Just friends. Don’t you get that?”
As Morien stared earnestly back at Julia, she felt a strange awkwardness seize her. Why did she feel such relief at that statement? This was horrible! Erin and Morien were supposed to be together. They suited each other, for Yehovah’s sake! So why did she feel just as skittish and shy as when she had first gone to a ball? She had only been a girl then, barely been a proper lady, still more concerned over what clothes to wear and what games to play around her manor than how to survive a world without friends or family. But now as she saw Morien shakily stretch out his arm and stiffly ask for this dance, she remembered the face of the boy who had first asked her. It had been her first ball, her first dance with a boy. She had still been naïve and young enough to dream of shining knights and noble princes, and that boy, she could not even remember his name now, he had seemed just like the man of her dreams. She hadn’t known she still had that memory. She thought it had disappeared with all the other silly, childish fancies she’d had to throw away when she’d been forced to grow up. Why did the memory come back to her now? Why did she remember that face, that dance, that, no, this feeling?
With a nervous whisper of assent, Julia took Morien’s hand, and allowed herself to be led back to the ball.
Meanwhile, Yann was still in the midst of his vexatious waltz with Chief Gastronomix, who was himself in the midst of an uproarious outrage.
“Get your hands off me!” Gastronomix cried. “I command you! Do you hear me? I command you!”
Yes, Yann heard the duke loud and clear, but no matter how much he wanted to, the bard could not abide that request. There was too much at stake. Morien’s peace of mind depended on him and Julia working themselves out. If accomplishing that meant putting himself through such awkwardness, then that was simply the price Yann had to pay.
With a crane of his neck, the bard looked around and saw Morien leading Julia from the outdoor balcony to the ballroom floor. Though Yann was curious as to what the two had been doing outside, any questions he had disappeared the moment he saw the look on his friends’ faces. Both were stiff, awkward, and in complete dispossession of any right feet, but that look, that shy, nervous look, at once Yann saw it and knew he had succeeded. The trap had caught its quarry, the lovebirds had been caged, the romantic passions that no doubt stirred the breasts of both of them would soon burst forth and take hold of their bodies and souls! Yes, Yann wept tears of joy! It was done! It was complete! Cupid’s arrow had struck a bulls-eye, and nothing would
“Say, mind if we cut in?” two random dancers swept up beside the blushing couple, their grinning faces oblivious to the current situation.
“Oh! Uh…” Julia stammered.
“I mean, um…” Morien stuttered.
“Great!” they laughed as they ignored their newfound partners’ pitiful pleas.
Since Yann wore no form of headgear, he was forced to throw Gastronomix’s helmet down to the ground in vexation. By whatever forces that commanded the universe! How could his plan have failed so miserably? Did Julia and Morien not appreciate the sacrifice Yann had put himself through for their sakes?
“That’s it!” Gastronomix grabbed a nearby gallant’s glove and tossed it at Yann’s face. “I challenge you to a duel!”
“A duel!” Heroix and Gigantix instinctively cried in glee as they rushed to join their chieftain.
“Huh? Whuzzat?” an ancient abbot asked.
“A duel, Father,” Hobie explained.
“Oh. A duel. Huzzah!” the abbot exclaimed excitedly, before he became dizzy and had to be sat down.
Look, Yann shooed the chief away, it wasn’t as though he was undesiring of a fight, it was simply the fact that, at that particular moment, there were far more pressing matters he had to worry about, and furthermore
“No! Shut up! Don’t try to change the subject!” Gastronomix bellowed. “You spoony bard! I’ve had it with you and that idiot prince!”
The lords and ladies gasped as they glanced Jourdain’s way, and the young prince hung his head in shame and embarrassment. The way they stared at him! The confusion, the pity, but above all else, the sheer entertainment. Jourdain was a spectacle, a show for his court’s amusement. He was more suited to be a jester than a king.
“Huh?” Gigantix blinked in surprise.
“Chief!” Heroix exclaimed. “Come on now, I know the prince isn’t his brother, but you were only twelve when you became chief! Surely you of all people know how important it is to be supportive of-”
“Silence!” Gastronomix howled. “And know, lords and ladies of the Carolingian court, that Prince Jourdain, soon to be King Jourdain, plans to destroy our national institution of slavery! He plans to pass full-fledged abolition!”
The court was now in an uproar, and the hushed whispers, angry howls, joyful cheers, and shocked cries mixed and mingled together, until there was no way of telling which way the court was willing to swing. Morien himself could hardly believe his ears. Destroy slavery? Could you even do a thing like that? It sounded unreal.
Just then, a strange noise drew Morien’s attention, and he saw Julia standing there, her eyes gaping wide and her mouth slowly opening and closing, but no fully-formed words coming out.
“H-hey,” Morien asked. “Are you okay?”
Julia turned to him, her expression glazed, as though she were just coming out of a dream.
“What?” she asked.
“I said-”
“Is this true, Jourdain?” the booming bellow of the king silenced the cacophonous crowd at once.
Instinctively Jourdain flinched beneath his father’s glare, its power not the least bit diluted by the distance between them. What was he to say? How was he to explain himself? Should he perhaps give in? Forget the whole thing, pretend it was all a joke? Maybe, Jourdain thought, as the swarm of staring eyes bombarded him, that was for the best. Maybe this really was too great a dream, too high a risk to the realm. Maybe he should just do what everyone had told him, like he always had. Forget all this. Forget Esmeralda.
But at the thought of her, of the woman Jourdain loved more than anyone else in the world, the young prince was once more catalyzed into action. With steel-eyed resolve, he bellowed bravely through the ballroom floor.
“Yes!” he cried. “It’s true! And why shouldn’t it be? Look around you, all of you! Gauls, Bretons, Normans, peoples and tribes from all Augusta, all here tonight, under one banner, one nation, one king. Wasn’t this the very principle of our nation’s founding? What makes another person any less deserving of this legacy? We are all one in the eyes of Yehovah, are we not?”
“Hear hear!” Julia shouted, her eyes wild with a frenzy. “Hear hear!”
“W-what?” Gastronomix sputtered.
“Indeed! Hear hear!” Morgan clapped.
“You! You all…!” Gastronomix growled.
“It is as the prince says,” Hobie called out calmly. “All are one before Yehovah.”
“Well, not exa-” Eva began, before a glare from Hobie made her rephrase. “Well, alright, concerning the matter of eternal souls and such, no, there is no difference between the various classes or races of the earth.”
“There!” Jourdain gasped, unable to believe the support he had found. “You hear it from not one, but two of Yehovah’s own messengers! Who could contradict such a decree?”
“I… yes. Yes, you are right my prince,” Joan smiled gently.
At once a debate erupted from within the clergy’s ranks, but it was quickly settled. The defense could hardly muster a compelling argument when three figures of such rank had sided with the prosecution. However, even with the church’s stance largely decided, there was still the matter of the state’s.
“You boy!” King Charles howled. “Your brother has not been dead for a moment, and already you think you know better than he? Better than me? For generations our land has thrived thanks to the labor provided us by slavery. Would you rid us of that strength? Weaken the very foundations of our kingdom?”
“I…” Jourdain almost cowed under his father’s might. But only almost. “Yes! The very existence of slavery is an affront to that foundation! Our foundation is one of equality!”
Morien, caught amongst the sea of chanting, cheering, arguing, yelling lords and ladies of the noble court, did not know what to think. Was this a good thing? A bad thing? Even a possible thing? Morien simply did not know. The very idea of abolition, it simply eluded him. He had never even considered it before.
But just then, as the ball’s uproar reached its zenith, Erin and Illyria burst into the ballroom, their faces etched in fear and urgency.
“Everyone!” Erin cried. “A duke’s gone crazy, a girl’s gone missing, and a monster’s on the loose!”