Tale of Four

Tristan walked around the Palace, eventually finding himself in Dante’s ballroom, a grand room of opulence, shining with silver and gold, jewels embedded in the pillars supporting the ceiling, the grand Skyline allowing sunlight or moonlight to grace it. It was a room constructed during the reign of Dante ’the Old’ to celebrate the invention of new farming techniques under the three Great Kings.

Taking a seat at the edge of the room, he leaned against his fist and pretended to read a book whilst secretly watching as servants and courtiers walked through. The servants cleaned with a burning fever, competing with one another to see who could clean the best, occasionally chatting about things they had seen around the Palace or matters within the city of Everlight itself.

Although he sat silently, the servants and courtiers made sure to stay silent around him, only talking when he was at a distance away, but easily missing the white dove that sat atop a chandelier, blending in with the sunlight above. His actions weren’t out of place for the servants, who had seen the strange Princeling many times, always sitting in the dark corners of the Palace, lost in a world of his own.

’They don’t even bother to hide the looks they give me.’ Tristan smirked to himself, seeing one too many disrespectful looks, wondering how a servant could be brave enough to snub their nose at someone of Royal Blood. He didn’t mind it, pretending once again not to have seen, and studied those faces.

Years of watching these people, listening to their conversation and studying their schemes had given him a good understanding of who they truly served and seeing a few faces he recognised, he smiled. ’Brandon’s servants talking to...’ Looking at the maids who spoke to one another, he studied the faces he could barely see, groaning when he couldn’t recognise the woman. ’A new servant, maybe. Likely one of Brandon’s allies. His wife’s family, no, they wouldn’t need to be so hidden in how they talk.’

Grabbing his chin, he leaned closer to his book, ’A new ally perhaps. It’s pointless to guess if I don’t know how many new servants have arrived. Could all be me looking too deep, however.’ Tristan didn’t dismiss that last thought. New servants weren’t strange. Anton cleared house at the first chance he got, removing many of the Great Lords and their people when he got the chance, flooding them with his own.

Looking up at Annabell, the small dove understood and flew around the room, perching atop a door out of sight, before landing on Tristan’s shoulder as he walked past. "Did you hear anything?"

"They spoke about the Church of the Creator. Apparently, there’s a new priest popping up within the city." Annabell quickly said, leaning into Tristan’s neck, waiting to be stroked as a reward. Seeing her cute actions, Tristan indulged the bird, taking it into his hands and rubbing all the spots he knew Annabell liked, before letting go when she had had enough.

"Any specifics?" Tristan asked, returning to the topic. Annabell closed her eyes to think for a moment about what would be useful.

"They said he was a heretic." His step paused at Annabell’s words. Many of the clergy would be shut down for dangerous ideas or new interpretations of the faith, but claims of heresy were rarely thrown out, reserved only for teachings that strayed far from the Teachings of the Lord Creator and the other accepted Gods of the Pantheon.

Gulping, he held his head high and quickly returned to normal so as not to let anyone who passed him see his strange actions. "Why?"

"He preaches a New God. Lady Death." Tristan nearly froze up again and understood why heresy was thrown out. It was one thing to interpret the Creator in a different way or wish to depict his image as something else, but to bring about a new god whilst being a part of the church was dangerous and, more importantly, sacrilegious.

’This hasn’t happened in over four hundred years.’ Recalling his history, he remembered the last time such a heresy occurred, when a foreign God from the southern continent across the sea was brought over and tried to integrate into the Church with the help of some clergy, eventually failing and launching a crusade instead. ’But for them to be talking about it. This isn’t just a madman preaching but someone with influence in Everlight.’

Tristan changed his destination; instead of heading to the dining room to listen to more conversation, he walked to the balcony where Hank resided. The old man turned to the door, hearing it open as the caws of crows echoed, greeting Tristan. Annabell flew off his shoulder and flew over to one of the cages they were kept in, staring at the birds, tilting her head every few minutes.

With a polite nod to Hank, Tristan walked over to one of the cages and opened it, taking out a young crow, petting its head. The crow didn’t lash out, instead leaning into the stroke. It wasn’t easy to spot without spending time with the birds, but Tristan saw its clipped left wing, which was slightly smaller than the right. The bird now existed only to breed more, rather than send messages.

"She has grown well," Tristan said, returning the bird to its cage and taking a seat, his soft smile vanishing.

"You nursed her well when you found her. A good thing you did, she raised a few strong ones who can fly to Kript." Tristan smiled sweetly, hearing his words, and held out his hand. Hank understood and dropped a few of the seeds he ate into it. Looking around and seeing only Hank could see him, he shoved them into his mouth, enjoying the bitter taste. He had tried them once out of interest, unsure why Hank did so when he was younger, and ever since, it had become his hidden pleasure, one he could never let anyone see without making rumours.

"Why are you here, lad?" Out of sight from the court, Hank took a more relaxed tone, something Tristan appreciated.

"Can I not come and see the birds. Look, even Annabell is... enjoying herself." He forced out those last words, watching Annebell, unable to understand why she would always stare in a random cage and tilt her head side to side.

"She’s talking to them," Hank said with a deep laugh. Tristan looked at him and shook his head.

"Doubtful, otherwise she would brag about her conversations." Hank shrugged and threw a handful of seeds in his mouth, crushing them under his teeth before handing Tristan more.

"Why have you come, lad?" Hank asked again whilst standing up, going over to one of the cages and sprinkling some food for the birds.

"Boredom. I was reading the bible earlier and got curious." Tristan turned to Hank, "How is the church reacting to our new King? You know I don’t leave the Palace, so I haven’t heard any news."

Hank stretched his back and groaned, retaking a seat, "The usual. Always worming their way into power whilst claiming how the Creator hasn’t left, the proof is in our king." Hank said with a mocking voice filled with disgust. "Although they are a bit more tame this time. His Grace truly is a strong presence."

"I’m sure he is." Tristan said with a smile, "Although there must be mixed opinions within the clergy, I doubt they will do anything. If they did, the Magi would leap on the chance to chase them out." Hank laughed in response, nodding.

"Those guys are just as bad, but at least they are less hypocritical with their actions." Tristan smiled and nodded along. It was always like this with Hank. He would drip-feed him information under the guise of friendly talks. Not anything serious, but just enough to help him know how people were feeling.

Looking at him, Tristan took a deep breath and looked back over the balcony, "Despite that, Annabell has heard things. Within the city." Hank looked to Tristan and waited for him, "Heresy." His voice was grave as he leaned forward.

Hank stayed silent for a moment before reaching into the inner pocket of his dirty robe and pulling out a silver steel box. Opening it, he pulled out a herb wrapped in paper and walked over to a nearby torch, placing the tip into it.

"Dangerous things to hear, young Princeling." Hank finally spoke after letting out a deep exhale, blowing out a cloud of smoke that smelled of sweet. "Things you should not concern yourself with."

"A passing observation made by Annabell. Nothing more."

"Nothing more?" Hank asked with slight concern and suspicion. Giving him a nod, the old birdkeeper warmly smiled and smoked. "You should be running off. Messages will be coming soon and..."

Tristan stood up, wiping his clothes, "I know. I’m not privy to them." Giving a final nod, Tristan stepped into the Palace once more as Annabell landed on his shoulder. Grabbing his chin, he fell into deep thought.

’For Hank to warn me so seriously means that it’s real and not soemthing small enough to be swept away.’ Looking out the glass of the balcony door, he saw the city and wondered if he should step outside. The mere thought scared him. In his entire life, he could count on both his hands how many times he had gone out.

Even if he claimed his parents’ death didn’t affect him, he knew better than anyone when it came to ideas of leaving the Palace walls. It terrified him. Inside the walls, he could prepare and stay vigilant, but outside, it was a world he didn’t know. Everything he knew was meaningless out there, and just like how he survived by random chance as a babe, he could easily die by it as well. Maybe a passing mugger or food poisoning.

With a few deep breaths, he pushed the fears aside. ’I have to. I can’t just stay inside. I need to prove I’m useful. To survive.’ Even as he told himself, his legs struggled to move. Desperately trying to walk forward with the goal of going outside, he barely took two steps before stopping. Grabbing his head, he collapsed and bitterly chuckled. ’I’m such a coward.