Arrod rolled over and buried his head under the pillow, blocking out the man's voice. The royal servant was not to be outdone by this act of stubbornness, he had to find a way of getting the prince out of bed soon or risk losing his head, literally. The royal servant had once been accused of a crime which he did not commit-and would have been killed if he had not done that task for the Elites.
His name was Wenelaus, and he had apparently been caught putting something into the king's dinner. Wenelaus had just delivered the platter to the king's chambers when another servant, a common one, burst through the door. The silent Elite, Sydney, who looked almost like a shadow with the way he just stood there in his black robe, had accompanied the servant. King Timion asked what warranted this unscheduled appointment and was told by the common servant that his food had been poisoned. Wenelaus became uneasy, he had been delivering the king's food for over two decades, and not once has it been poisoned, he tasted every dish before delivering them.
The common servant was made to eat the king's food, and he died on the spot. Wenelaus would have died if the Lower-person servant had not been present. He had gone to jail after that and was later saved by Polymus, who had a task for him.
"My prince, we have an appointment at the clothier's store. If you remain asleep, we will miss it and; therefore, sabotage your own birthday." Wenelaus said to the body of Prince Arrod, whose head was no longer visible.
"Gah!" Arrod's muffled voice came from underneath the covers. "Why do we have to go there all the time? Couldn't you have just ordered him to come to the palace?"
"I'm afraid not, my prince. Not after what happened the last time. The last royal clothier attempted to kill your grandfather-"
"Yes, with a pair of scissors. Then grandfather cut off his testicles and let him bleed out. Just get everything ready, Wenelaus, I will need to take my bath first."
"I'm afraid that will not be possible. You have slept through almost all our time and the horses are ready to depart."
"I'm afraid of this, I'm afraid that! Let them bloody depart, Wenelaus. I don't care." Arrod pulled his head out and banged threw his pillows away. The soft rectangular mounds hit the carpet soundlessly.
"You dress is over there," Wenelaus pointed at the neatly folded pieces of clothing resting at the edge of the bed. "I will be downstairs waiting," Wenelaus said and departed.
Arrod walked down the stairs a few minutes later, he had changed his clothes in a hurry and had forgotten to put on his crown. Wenelaus saw this but said nothing, there was barely enough time left. There was no need for enforcer escorts in Vothland so they got on their horses and rode through Vothland's Upper-city market. The nobles and servants of the elite gave way for the prince and his butler to pass. They met the royal clothier at the door of his establishment and were politely ushered into the store.
"A minute later and you would have missed me." The clothier said, already sizing up Arrod with his drawn-out tape.
"Glad we did meet you," said Wenelaus.
Arrod was measured and given a scroll with the latest fashion designs. He chose a short-sleeved red shirt with gold embroidery and black trousers made from polished leather.
"I suggest you also purchase the tiger skin as a shoulder piece, it would go well with the trousers, my prince." The royal clothier smiled, pulling out a piece of tiger hide from a mahogany chest.
"That thing still stinks, how do you expect me to wear that horrible pelt?" Arrod pinched his nose.
"No, this is but a viewing sample. Yours would be brought from the curing rooms when it is ready. I can assure you it would smell most nicely." said the clothier, stuffing the tiger skin back into the chest and slamming it shut.
"We shall purchase all of them," Wenelaus said, leading Arrod out of the store. "Just make sure they are ready before the prince's birthday."
"Absolutely!"
As was the custom in the kingdom, the palace was packed with Vothlander's who brought gifts and precious items for the prince. The gifts were for his upcoming birthday which would take a whole day to celebrate without time for gift giving. Lower-people were not allowed to enter Vothland without permits so all the people bearing gifts were dressed in beautiful robes and tunics. All save for a certain old Babalawo.
Arrod and Wenelaus tied the horses at the back of the palace and the prince rushed upstairs to have his bath, he already had sweat stains around his armpits. He used the scented soap from Medoria's store and applied the perfume to his dark skin. Wenelaus brought him clothes to change into and he noticed his crown on the bed, he grabbed it and placed it on the head. That old crook must have known all along. Arrod strutted downstairs and walked into the throne room, the royal herald announcing his arrival.
"Behold, Prince Arrod!" The herald boomed. "The grandson of the almighty King Timion and heir to the throne!"
Arrod walked over to the seat beside his grandfather and gently lowered himself onto the cushioned throne. He was too young for all this, his father was supposed to be heir while he was out playing. He pushed the memory of his parents aside, like his grandfather always told him to. It would only make matters worse; make him cry in front of these people.
Arrod smiled and waved at the crowd in the throne room, they dropped their gifts at the bottom of the throne and walked out, only to be replaced by more nobles. Soon, the gifts made a large pile and the royal servants began to move them to the prince's chambers. Arrod smiled at the keeper of the silos and the wife of the keeper of the silos as they dropped their gift: A golden staff polished to a glossy shine. It was a common gift. Then the man and woman turned to leave and were replaced by an old man in a dirty grey tunic. The man dropped a dirty bag on the impeccable throne room floor, it was filled with leaves, shoots, and a few tree barks.
"Who let this Lower-person into the throne room?" Prince Arrod enquired.
The enforcers moved forward and King Timion raised his hand. "Identify yourself." The king said to the old man.
"I am a human and equal to everyone here. You and I have a hand and a head so do not call me a Lower-person again." The Babalawo said.
"Then why are you dressed in such filthy attire?" Arrod asked.
"My tunic is made of real cotton; I spun it myself and it, therefore, has more value than all you have ever purchased from the clothier. I have come to give my gift to the prince as a good Vothlander should." A laugh rang out in the throne rooms, the nobles were teary-eyed, pointing at the dirty old man claiming to be a Vothlander.
"To be a Vothlander, you must be an Upper-person or an elevated noble. I ask again, who are you?"
"I was your grandfather's herbalist, my king. And I served your father, teaching him medicine from the day he was born." Then the old man lifted the bag of leaves.
"I have brought this bag of mixed herbs for the prince, for his loud mouth would soon get him into trouble." The Babalawo said.
"You dare bring goat food on my birthday?" Arrod said. "And you even have the guts to insult the prince." said the king. The elite watched the spectacle from the shadows, none of them moved to join the farce or interfere.
King Timion ordered the enforcers to seize the blasphemer and whip him twelve times for his heresy. The bull-men flung their whips over the old man's back and he collapsed onto his knees.
"Search his bag to see if he has stolen any of my gifts!" Arrod shouted. The Babalawo's bag was upturned and all his totems and trinkets tumbled onto the throne room carpet.
"What is that?" King Timion pointed, and an enforcer moved to pick the small golden seal. "It is a golden seal of ownership, Your Majesty."
"Let me see." The enforcer handed king Timion the seal, and he inspected it thoroughly. "Where did you get this?" The king asked the kneeling old man.
"What do you see, Timion?" The Babalawo laughed. "It looks so real, doesn't it?"
"Put all his belongings in the bag and take him upstairs," The king got down from his throne and commanded the enforcers. "The rest of you are dismissed, go back to your respective houses, and bring your gifts some other time." Arrod watched as his grandfather lifted the old dirty man. He wondered who the hell the venerable stranger was.