The storm came and went, leaving about glistening puddles and dew. With such placidity, it was as if the day before never happened.
Near dawn, inaudible footsteps made their way to the third floor. Eyes sharp and eagle-like with a bun slicked back to showcase the freckles of white at his temples. He dressed in stiff linen; the man had a dignified air despite having come from the humblest of origins.
Chief steward Samel reached the top of the stairs without a hint of shortness in breath.
A man that upheld more diligence than a superior officer in the army, he took his duties seriously, which also included keeping a disciplined schedule.
An hour and a half before the sun rose in the east, he would rise from his bed and take a quarter wick's time to change and prepare himself for the day. Afterward, the steward would head to the servant's courtyard to perform a few exercises to stretch his limbs, following a rigorous routine that allowed a man nearing his forties to keep the physique of one in his twenties.
Once finished, steward Samel would again wipe himself and change to a similar, yet more ornate, robe that was more fitting for a principal servant of His Highness. Without a wrinkle in fabric or hair out of place, the man would then make sure everything was prepared before the Prince awoke from sleep and readied himself for morning classes.
Today, however, things were off schedule. Steward Samel had stayed up all night, tossing in turning from what he believed was his dereliction of duty. How could he have allowed for His Highness to catch a cold?
Under the nanny's care, the Prince had only fallen ill a handful of times. Yet, not even a full month into his management of the East Palace, the Prince fainted from a fever.
In swift strides, he power-walked through the halls and was greeted by the standing guards. Quietly, he inquired about the Prince's condition.
The one to answer was Sir Sephan Kavesh , the nephew of General Khanzi. "Fullerton reported that the Prince had last taken medicine a little after midnight. A quarter hour after that, the maids said that his temperature had lowered significantly. Lastly, the doctor should be coming over as we speak."
The steward nodded and twisted the knob to the bedchamber. The room was significantly warmer than the outside as the fire crackled lowly. Steathily, Samel made his way to the bed with mute steps. Unlike a typical day, there was no need to wake his highness. He set down the luminary on the nightstand and quietly opened the canopy.
Steward Samel wasn't sure if it had been because the lack of sleep or if he was dreaming. Closing the curtain, he opened it once more. The scene did not change.
Why were there two Highnesses on the bed?
Like a impish monkey, Lyfette sprawled on top of his Cousin brother, his head buried in the crook of his neck and short limbs spread in every direction. Underneath, the Prince slept with a wrinkled brow. If it had not been for the mild tranquilizing affect of the medicine, he surely would have woken up.
The steward slowly shut the curtain with a vein pulsating on his temple. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea skipping his regular morning routine because clearly, he needed some meditation at this moment.
Stepping out of the room, he softly shut the door and pointedly glared at the two guards. "Bring me the imbeciles who worked last night."
~
Like every other morning, little Lyfette's body was dragged out of bed. And as usual, the child bit and scratched whoever dared to wake him. The act was habitual at this point - every day starting with an ugly battle.
In the General's mansion, who didn't know that the second son of the King - and reluctantly, their young master - was a vicious tiger cub who should not be bothered when his eyes were closed? Doing so would warrant death, or at the very least, a visit to the medical hall.
How many times had the bite of the child required a plaster? If the expenses of the doctor had not been provided by the mansion, who would want to pay a pretty silver coin just to do their duties?
Unfortunately, the servants of the East Palace did not know this tidbit about the little second prince. The Prince's bedchamber was chaotic as the tiger cub maimed his opponents in a fitful rage. The boy's half-lidded eyes were red with aggravated unrest.
As the boy servants screamed in pain, running away from the wolfish boy in fear, the Chief Steward pushed Fullerton and Uriah, the two guards who had barely closed their eyes after a long night of keeping watch, to the front-line.
Aggrievedly, they looked toward their colleagues. Both thought, 'This must be their doing!'
Kavesh and Netter did not know what these men were looking at them for. It wasn't them who fucked up.
Resigned to their fates, the two entered the fray, unarmed and un-armored. There wasn't anything quite like watching two grown men having their asses beaten by a half-pint child. The guards, chief steward, and boy servants looked on with a simper on their lips.
Maybe the only one who could understand their pain was Netter who had been subjected to the Second Prince's ruthless strikes the previous afternoon in the dining hall. It wasn't as if they could injure the little prince, unless they had a death wish. Not even a bruise should form on the tender skin or the Prince would chastise them to no end.
Luckily for them, the Chief Steward thought they had enough punishment for the day and called out, "Your Highness, if you cause such a ruckus, Prince Ulfstead won't be able to rest well."
Like the change from night to day, the boy's frenzy ceased. His chubby paws removed themselves from Joan Fullerton's head and slowly, the four-year-old climbed down the tree trunk that was Heilin Uriah.
Lyfette's eyes were still a little red from just waking up. If one didn't know what had just occurred, it would seem like the child had been bullied by these unruly men. He looked over to Ulfstead who somehow, didn't stir during the entire affair.
The boy moved closer to the bed, fully intending to go back to sleep, but the Chief Steward once again foiled his plans. "Your Highness, surely you have not forgotten that you have classes? It would be more difficult to go back to sleep only to wake up in a short while. Why don't you accompany me to change?"
Tsk. The eyes of a lethal snake, a snarl of an angry lion, and the face of a little angel. This is what the child looked like.
"If Prince Ulfstead finds out that you skipped because of him, wouldn't he be sad?"
Lyfette broke his gaze and turned to the sly Steward in undisguised disgust. The man really had a guileful mouth.
When everyone left the bedchambers, the room finally returned to tranquility.
~~~
The King had just left morning court when a report from the East Palace came.
"He did what?"
"The guards said that the second prince did come out in the middle of the night, however, he returned to his room after a bit of convincing. In the morning, he was found in the Prince's bed."
The King's head ache seemed to grow. "And if he did not go through the door, how in the world did he break in?"
The servant bowed his head as he narrated the incident. "The Chief Steward stated that the prince said he 'climbed through the window'."
A full on migraine. That was what the King had. Was this the same stupid child that would drool while eating and fall asleep while sitting up? Where in the world did he get the courage?
Standing from his desk, he looked out the window to see the ledge that was no bigger than his foot and still damp from the night prior. A series of curses flowed through the King's mind and straight out his mouth. As conscientious servants, no one present dared to comment or remind the King that his demeanor was in no way 'majestic' at the moment.
Let these poor servants keep their eyes and tongues, please.
The King grinded his teeth wishing to beat the child to death for nearly killing himself. But just when he was about to call for his golden cane, he remembered the scene from the day prior. The burning hands and anger returned to a pallid simmer. "Make sure his attendants send him back today. No Excuses."
The east palace servant nodded and left the study leaving the King, the Old Eunuch and two palace boys.
The King massaged his forehead while he sat back in his seat. Upon his desk sat a pile of scrolls that all contained one or both of two things, embellished garbage and urgent information pertaining to the country.
The Old Eunuch waved one child to tell the kitchen to bring lunch to the study and had the other child tell the ministers that the King will not be meeting with anyone else for another hour.
The King looked at the two leaving children and waited for the door to close before asking. "Which of these is the one you are choosing as your heir?"
The Old Eunuch smiled, but refuted, "Neither. The one that I've chosen is still being trained. He might be ready soon."
The King lazed in the wing-back chair; the idle conversation was more of a way to distraction than one of concern. "Might? It had been more than a year since you said that you found someone. Aren't you ready to rest in peace?"
The Eunuch maintained a cool composure. "I certainly am, My King. But the boy still requires tempering."
With this, the King's interests actually piqued. "Hmm... someone even you can't tame? Seems interesting? Aren't the boys usually more docile once they go through the process?"
The Eunuch's cloudy eyes crinkled at the edges, the crows feet becoming more prominent. "The child hadn't gone through the process... and I don't intend for him to. I believe there won't be a need to do so."
The languid sneer slowly fell. "What do you mean?" A light breeze flowed from the window creating a sudden chill.
The old man infuriatingly replied, "You shall see, Your Majesty."