Rain fell steadily, dripping from the spires of the castle and running along the aged roof tiles to go splattering a dozen miles down onto the pavement. Perched on a crowded table, watching as the streamlets washed down the thick glass windows was enough to send the cankey shivering and he soon yanked the curtains shut with a sigh. It was odd for a cankey to behave in this manner. He was squatting listlessly, on a large table thrust up against the stone wall, and sagging from the weight of numerous books and scrolls and papers that spilled onto the floor, covering almost every surface of the room. The air was thick with the scent of candle wax, fresh paper and ink. The perfect workspace, though no work was being done.
Sir Saddlepaw Diddymons Silverus had been the Queen's royal adviser and personal butler from the moment he could understand his letters and so had his father before him and his father's father. It was a family legacy that he tried to uphold to the best of his ability. If only he was allowed to. It had been three full days now since the disappearance of his Queen. Her Royal Highness Queen Jensari of Gauberhodgy and her twin daughters Princess Orpha and Dira. And He was terrified. There had been some amount of unrest among the citizens since the banishment of Lord Roland, now this fear of a revolt was doubled. He dared not even venture out into the castle gardens for his daily meditation! But the people would grow bold with this silence. How long would the battered iron gates of the castle keep the rioters out? His bones ached from fretting and his elegant whiskers drooped.
Silverus, as he was called by the Queen, was dark, a rusty black furred, middle aged cankey. A creature much like a cat in appearance only, he walked upright and his forelegs were much more like hands. And they had the habit of swinging from the tail just like a primitive primate especially when anxious or excited. He wore a fancy tail coat and a badge of honor a bit battered with age. And stood about three feet tall, the standard height for his kind. His eyes were bright firestones, though they appeared dull at the moment.
"Oh how I hope you are in good health my Queen but I'm utterly destroyed! What will I do?" he moaned rocking violently from side to side.
The Castle was built on solid rock, on the cliffs of Gauberhodgy and overlooked the rolling hills, valleys and the rivers which flowed freely. It was a rat trap! To the east, the cliff overlooked the Skeleton sea and to the west, beyond the farmland and untamed hillocks, were the Waking Willows, an ever shifting forest that seemed to creep closer. Down south, the rock gully of Hebran. The place where Roland had taken refuge along with his faithful followers. And North, Shira's Dunes, an uncrossable sea of sand. If ever the enemy should storm the castle, they would have no road to retreat. Already people were choosing sides. And it seemed they knew who the battle was in favor of. Only yesterday the finest blacksmith in the land had packed his belongings and started for Hebran. And though Silverus had made the castle his prison, others would not follow suit, especially with the absence of the Royal family.
Thump! Thump! A sudden rapping on the door sent the poor creature cowering beneath the table.
"Sir Saddlepaw...Mr Saddlepaw!" It was the voice of the cook's apprentice. Both were made of good stuff and he trusted deeply in their loyalty. They were among the few who knew of the Royal family's absence and had taken a vow of secrecy.
He fiddled with the lock mostly because of his sweaty palms and when he did get it open, he only held it wide enough so he could stuck his blunt nuzzle out.
"Yes?" He asked the perspiring, plump cheek youth before him. The boy was barely past ten yet he towered over the cat like creature.
Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, he began.
"Netly was wondering if he should heat the leftovers from last night, the streets only get more dangerous and he thinks we should conserve our food supply because... you know".
The fear of a siege was not just a shadow under Silverus's bed, it was an infectious disease, rendering weak every beating heart within the kingdom.
And it was just as Silverus had feared, hope, like a flames last flicker, had left them. Though whose fault was it but his, if the Queen's closest friend should shut himself away in his study right when she needed him the most, what should prevent the rest? His great grandfather Ervaldin must be flaring his ears in scorn. May his soul rest in peace.
Drawing himself up to his full height, he flung the door open.
"What nonsense! Tell him to prepare a feast fit for all the dukes in Delorel! And where are the maids to dust the halls. Why are we all mopping around like a herd without a shepherd? As long as our Queen lives, we will be at the ready to serve! Set the lanterns ablaze. And the Smithy to work. Come let us prepare ourselves for the Queen's return!"
It was an encouraging speech that left him trembling but did its work as the boy ran ahead with the message, a new light in his eyes.
Alone in the dimly lit hall, he found the Queen guarded by Ervaldin's old suit of armor. She was smiling ever so softly, down at him from the portrait mounted on the opposite wall. Her hair, soft black curls tied neatly on top of her head and her warm hazel eyes that seemed to sparkle though that would be very absurd as it was only a painting in a dusky hall. Still, it filled him with a new sense of pride and hope.
"We won't give up on you your highness, just do the same for us and please, come home".