Sare was beautiful in the afternoon light. Richard couldn’t take his eyes off the road, lest the sun sparkling off the lake blind him, but the town filled his vision nonetheless. The little village where King Ruben’s hunting lodge resided had exploded in population after the Night of Falling Crowns, and the kingdom had split in two. Sare had gone from sleepy fishing and logging town to new capital of a country, and the growing pains could still be felt decades later. 

Which is why the rather large traffic jam at the first intersection in town led to the small band of brothers going their separate ways; Baruch and Solomon to their father’s estate along the river, Henry and Nathaniel to their own family homes nestled in town, and Richard, Benjamin and Joseph up the long and winding road to the Lodge-turned-castle. 

There was a near constant stream of vehicles, motor-powered and not, driving along the road to the lodge. Rather than stop in the central plaza, they turned down a side alley and towards the barracks, hidden near the back of the gardens. The horse stables were still there, and still held horses; but not as many as there had been in older times, and so a stall had been converted to house the Prince’s motorcyle. 

There was already a retainer waiting for him. Richard fought to suppress a sigh as he pulled the bike to a stop, pulling off his helmet. “I suppose Lord Blackwood would like to see me?” He asked as the engines died. 

“At once, your highness.”

Dread filled his stomach. But there was no putting this off any longer. Joseph put an assuring hand on his shoulder before turning to tend to the bikes. Richard dismounted and followed the retainer into the lodge.

The building had just been expanded to accommodate the flood of courtiers, staff and council members after Dalreme fell. Richard walked with dirty boots along plush carpets and marble floors that far outshone anything in the original building. Men in soft silk hats and servants in rich black scurried along the hallways, all but ignoring the dust-covered man who was meant to be king. 

There was a new portrait of King Ruben hanging on the wall next to Blackwood’s office. Richard looked up at a stern face, lined with a thin black beard and deep-set grey eyes. Richard felt small, looking at it. How am I meant to fill those shoes? The last thing he felt like now was a king. 

His hand burned. Richard clenched his fist, looking down at the gloved hand. I can’t tell him. The mere thought of it made him nauseous again. It had been hard enough to keep breakfast down that morning. 

There was giggling from around the corner. Richard shook himself from his thoughts just in time to catch a small gaggle of schoolchildren from racing into an expensive Miric vase that had been placed on a stone plinth. “Woah now, slow down!” He called, catching the frontmost kid and using the momentum to lift them into the air, eliciting a fresh stream of giggles. “You all know better than to run in the hall!”

“Mr. Prince Richard!” The schoolchildren, all progeny of the Lords and Council members of the court, clustered around him eagerly. “You’re back!”

Richard lifted the child in his arms over his shoulder, letting their legs dangle. “Now where did Callum go?” He asked in a teasing tone, looking around. “I thought I just saw him!”

The child over his shoulder laughed. “I’m right here!” He protested, trying to peek under Richard’s arm.

“Maddie, have you seen Callum?” Richard asked, looking around with an exaggerated spin. “I’m going to have to eat his dessert if he’s late for dinner!”

“Nooooo!” Callum cried, desperately flailing. 

“Callum! There you are!” Richard gently put Callum back down. “What were you hiding up there for?” 

The schoolchildren giggled, clustering around Callum and Richard. “Mr. Prince, Mr. Prince!”

“We learned about the Night of Falling Crowns today!” one said, holding up a big picture book. They talk about it in picture books now?

“Mr. Ayvel said it was the biggest cala-cala-“ Callum crossed his eyes, focusing. “Cal-am-ity in known history!” He looked up, proud of himself for sounding out the word. 

“Mr. Prince Richard, did your parents really die in a fire?” Maddie asked, looking up with big eyes. “That’s so sad!”

“And did Mr. Lord Blackwood really carry you out of the burning castle?” Another child clung to his leg. “Like in the silent pictures?”

“But the jester guy pulled out another baby, and no one knows which one is the King and Queen’s son!” Someone else chimed in.

“So they gotta wait until the King’s Blessing develops, and then everyone can be friends again!” Callum grinned. “I think it’s you, Mr. Prince Richard!”

“Can we see your mark?” Maddie asked, pulling on his hand. “Is it really blurry like the book said?”

Richard froze. What do I say?

Thankfully, Mr. Ayvel came around the corner at that moment, sparing him from finding a hasty answer. “Now, now, you all know better than to bother Prince Richard.” The tutor chided, gently shooing the children towards the courtyard. The children giggled and scattered.

“They weren’t being a bother, Mr. Ayvel.” Richard said, shaking his head. But thank you for the rescue, regardless.”

“Still, it is time for them to start learning proper manners for interacting with Royalty.” The tutor responded. “Trust me, I have learned my lesson on that particular front.” “It only took fifteen years to get me to behave.” Richard gave a cheeky grin. “I’ll try to be more mindful in the future.”

“I hope the future is soon, if you’re waiting on Lord Blackwood.” Mr. Ayvel replied, before following the children out to the courtyard. Richard watched the group go with a fond smile, before turning his back to the study door. A memory from the morning echoed.

“Before we take to the road again,” He’d said, gathering his friends around as they had prepared to depart Joseph’s aunt and uncle’s house. “I... I need to ask a favor of you all.”

“What is it?” Henry had asked, looking up from the bundle he was tying on the back of his bike.

“What we did yesterday, with the farmhouse and the family...” Richard was downcast. “Please don’t speak of it to anyone.”

“What?!” Baruch looked up in surprise. “Why not?”

“Aren’t you proud of what we did?” Nate asked.

“I am, truly.” Richard was able to give a soft smile. “And normally I would be singing your praises down the hall. But... I do not think this news would be as welcomed as you would think.”

He’d looked at Joseph. “Do you remember that note I tried to pull out of the bandit’s campfire?”

Joseph had nodded. “You weren’t able to read the note before it disintegrated.”

“Lord Blackwood is ready for you, Prince Richard.” A servant said, shaking him out of the memory. Richard gave a quiet thanks and moved to stand in front of the door. His hand rested on the luxurious brass handle.

“I wasn’t. But it was in Lord Blackwood’s handwriting.”

He carefully opened the door. The Regent’s desk was large, in a rich dark oak with immaculate green felt on its face. Retainers and secretaries stood along the wall, waiting to be called upon. The room itself was a mix of deep reds and dark browns, accented by white marble along the windows. It was the room of a ruler. He hated every inch of it. 

Blackwood himself sat at the desk, reading over a report from some far-flung corner of the country. “Ah, the prodigal son returns.” He said, looking up with no small amount of irony in his voice. “Do you truly feel the need to go roving with the wind whenever you feel the slightest bit of adversity?”

Yes. Richard thought in the pit of his stomach. “My apologies, Lord Blackwood.” Richard said aloud, gently inclining his head. “I was not aware your appointments could be considered conflictive.”

Blackwood was not amused. “Someday it will be you sitting behind this desk, young man.” Blackwood said, glaring over the top of the report. “I cannot shield you from the drudgery of running a kingdom forever. It would behoove you to be mindful of your tongue.”

You never let me even look at a receipt that isn’t attached to the military. A dark thought in Richard scowled. “You shouldn’t have to.” He said aloud, the thought manifesting itself in a more polite manner. “If anything, I should become more involved in the workings of the kingdom.” His mind raced. “Such as... how our food is grown? Surely we aren’t as reliant on Cailsmarch as we used to be?”

“Agriculture is the last thing that should be on your mind.” Blackwood said sharply. “Your eighteenth birthday approaches, you highness, and if your King’s Blessing does not manifest the people are going to wonder if you are truly the heir to the throne.”

Richard’s hand burned again. He quickly folded his hands behind his back, let the mark burn through his gloves. “I cannot force the mark to develop, Lord Blackwood.” Richard said, fighting to keep his face neutral. “It will happen in the Creator’s timing, not mine.”

Blackwood scowled, deeper than Richard had seen in months. What had he said wrong?

“If it pleases you,” Richard said quickly, trying to steer the conversation to a different course. “I could spend some time in the library looking into the line of Kings. Perhaps there is a trigger that hasn’t been discovered yet?”

“You’d be better served speaking with General Conley.” Blackwood said, setting down the report. “He’s planning on building a new infantry training camp north of here. I understand there are already negotiations for land.”

Richard stilled. Is that what it’s called nowadays? “Near Gorey?” Richard asked. “That’s all farmland-it’s not near any major roads. Besides, we aren’t at war.”

“We aren’t at war, yet.” Blackwood empasized. “Rest assured Lazuli is watching you with just as keen an eye as your own people.”

“They would not be able to act unless they can definitively prove they have the Heir.” Richard pointed out. “If anything, establishing a training camp now, closer to the border, would only antagonize them.” And I have no desire to see war break out again.

“And what would you suggest, Your Highness?” Blackwood asked, exasperated. “The funds have already been allocated.”

And the farm conveniently cleared to be bought. Richard thought sourly. He turned to a large map of the twin kingdoms that hung on the leftmost wall, which had a large red line hastily drawn on it after the kingdoms had split. “Why not near Lorha?” He suggested, pointing to the upper left of the map. “Much of it is plains that are more easily converted to military use, and having it close to the northern border would dissuade the Northern Tribes from trying the defenses.”

Lord Blackwood leaned back, tapping his pen on the desk in thought. “I do not think the Northern Tribes are the nation’s greatest concern at the moment.” He closed his eyes. “I want you to speak with General Conley; He has a better understanding of the political climate, and he may be more able to dissuade you.”

Richard cocked an eyebrow, but kept his thoughts to himself. “I think I will.” He said, cordially bowing. “Do have a good afternoon.”

He waited until the study door closed behind him to let out a long, relieved sigh. At least he didn’t demand to see the mark again. He rubbed his left hand. I can’t keep this hidden forever.

What do I do?

Seek Me.

I need answers. Richard looked up and strode down the hall, towards the library. 

I need to know the truth.