(Morning after the coronation, His majesty's office)
It was a crack of dawn when the butler woke him up. Iyan was still sleepy, sitting in a chair in his father's office, waiting for him to come. Only Sullivan was there with him.
He is the one that called him, saying the emperor needed to meet him immediately.
Iyan didn't have much faith in those words, he thought that it would be impossible for his father to be awake at this hour, much less be able to do something important. He was probably still in his bed, half naked with some woman from the ball, hungover from all the wine he drank.
Sullivan placed a cup of warm black tea with milk in front of him. "How does it feel to wake up as the Crown Prince?" He asked, hoping to kill some time before the Emperor shows up.
Iyan rubbed his eyes and sat up straight. He cleared his throat and answered. "Not much different from yesterday."
"I guess becoming a Crown Prince doesn't make much difference to the body, Your Royal Highness."
"Are people going to call me that from now on?"
Sullivan fidgeted like he was uncomfortable, "Well, yes."
"I see." Iyan took the cup of tea and took a good look at the beige tea in it. He liked Sullivan, he was a good guy, always solving problems his father makes and perhaps the only person that truly knows him. Iyan, in some way, thought of him as a family member.
"The Emperor should be here any moment." Sullivan is not very good with small talk.
Iyan nodded his head, not moving his eyes from the cup, "What is he doing?"
"Ah, " He thought for a moment, "He should be on his way here by now."
"Ah," Iyan imitated him, "You can tell me he is with another woman, the whole empire knows about his affairs."
"Please don't think so little of your father, he just told me not to tell you anything and bring you here. I truly don't know much more than you."
Iyan liked Sullivan, he almost viewed him as an uncle since he had no other family to be close with. Sullivan was always by his fatherćs side, ever since he could remember, after all he is the most trusted advisor of the empire, regardless of his age.
Sullivan is young, the same age as his father, perhaps that is why they get along so well. Yet their personalities collide, Sullivan is a much more open and talkative person, unless the conversation is about something unimportant, someone who holds their opinion without being rude and offensive, he is not an aggressive kind. While his father is everything opposite of that, Sullivan was like his guard dog in some sense, or a protective and mature older brother.
"Ah." Iyan took a sip of his tea. Who knows what this day has prepared for him.
He had a strange dream last night, actually it was a memory, a very strange memory he never thought of as important. Truly he didn't even know why he remembered that day he and Neftali got lost in the forest.
Childish thing truly.
But who knows, lately he had all kinds of memories come back to him. Perhaps the stress of becoming the Crown prince and lack of sleep caused him to think about the past. About the times he didn't have to be next in line to the throne.
This very room brought many memories. Father used to bring him here to listen. He would sit on this very chair, while his father sat on his desk, his hands crossed over his chest. Sullivan would usually be next to him, standing and talking, sometimes placing papers that his father didn't even glance over. And on the chair across from Iyan, there would sit another person. A person he hadn't seen in a while, his uncle Marcus de Romante.
Dolores's husband, the same Dolores Neftali had mentioned to him not too long ago.
Sullivan was now sitting in his chair.
The three of them would meet often, to talk about all kinds of stuff, and Evan brought Iyan along every time to listen. Apparently to learn something from them.
He didn't learn anything, he was a child and did not spend a second listening to what they were talking about. But he remembered those moments well, the atmosphere of the room, the light in the air and almost relaxing atmosphere. It was very different from the usual meeting his father had with other officials, then he was cold and sharp, always speaking in a doubting tone. Like everyone around him was going to betray him.
But not these two, they were his friends, Marcus was the only family member his father kept in contact with, even visited on many occasions. He was a good man who did not deserve the destiny he got.
It has been a while since he saw his uncle.
Sullivan would probably know where he is, so Iyan decided to ask him.
"Sullivan?" Iyan looked at him.
"Your Highness."
"Do you perchance know where uncle Marcus is?"
Sullivan froze for a moment, the look on his face got stiff. It was like the room got quieter for a moment. "Marcus de Romante?" His voice echoed in the empty office.
Before Iyan could answer the door opened and his father walked in.
Sullivan jumped from his chair, almost startled, but remained calm and bowed to the Emperor. Iyan looked at him confused, this was very unusual behavior for him.
More unusual than that was his father.
His long dark hair was nearly tied, he had shaved his beard, the attire he usually wears looks brand new. His eyes are not tired and lost, and the dark circles under them are almost invisible.
The Emperor looked more put together now in the crack of dawn than he did yesterday on the ball.
Iyan pinched himself before standing up. He was for sure awake.
"Good morning," the emperor said to them, a small smile even appeared on his face.
"Good morning Your Majesty," Sullivan answered right away, like this was nothing unusual, but maybe he was just very good at hiding his surprise in front of the Emperor.
"Good morning," Iyan said under his breath, "Father," he added.
The Emperor looked at them for some time, he remained at the door not entering the office. "If everyone is ready, we shall go."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Sullivan answered right away and both of them stepped out of the office.
Iyan remained confused but still decided it would be best to follow them. He caught up to his father and started wondering where they were headed.
In the hallway of the King's palace, the curtains on all of the windows were opened, the morning sun slowly colored the walls in orange.
They passed his mother's office, the double door was wide open as well as all the windows in her office. The table was empty.
Iyan wasn't the only one looking inside, the emperor's head was also turned towards his wife's office. A small breeze of morning wind came in through the windows. It was still cold outside.
They kept walking in silence, only the steps of their shoes echoing behind them.
They walked all the way to the main entrance of the Imperial palace, the huge staircase where the enormous portrait of the imperial family hangs. It was overdue for a replacement, both Iyan and his sister were children when it was painted. Actually, the more accurate word is babies. Iyan was barely two years old and Neftali was still considered a newborn at the time. He is sitting by his mother's side, dressed in a small blue suit, clenching his firsts in order to remain still. His mother held Neftali in her hands, wrapped in a red blanket, the Empress wore a soft blue gown, the three of them were sitting on a golden sofa that now remains in the throne room as his mother's seat. The emperor is standing behind them, dressed in the same colored suit as his wife's gown, one of his hands resting on her shoulder. The look on his face was firm, the crown on his head looked like it was shining from the morning sun that got in through the tall window of the main entrance.
Neither one of them, except Iyan, glanced at it.
They went down the stairs but turned right in front of the tall door of the palace that still remained closed, and walked out through the servant door instead.
Morning dew could still be seen on the grass, it was a fresh morning scent. There was nobody outside except the two guards on duty in front of the entrance. The palace was still sleeping. In just a few hours this very place will be filled with carriages waiting to take their masters home. Only a few were staying in the palace longer than others.
They were headed towards the stable, northern wing of the imperial grounds was a home of the ranch where the stables and training grounds for horseback riding were located.
It took quite some time to get there by foot. If they had left through the back entrance they would have got there a lot faster.
However to Iyan that didn't really matter at the moment, he wasn't even sleepy anymore, just still, incredibly confused.
His father stopped for a moment, he looked to the side, Iyan copied him to see what caught his attention, it was the noise of a wooden sword being swung through the air. A very familiar sound to him.
Even from a distance he recognized the figure swinging the sword dressed in an unbuttoned shirt because someone forbade him from practicing shirtless years ago.
Sullivan spoke, "Lord Leonard of Vendrig, Your Majesty."
"So now all your teachers are here." His father said and continued walking. "Good."
Sir Leo arrived last, he came yesterday just in time for the ceremony in the temple, but except his golden head, among the crowd in the temple, Iyan saw him much later that night, while he was returning from the ball. He was lingering at the main foyer, sitting at the bottom of the stairs in the dark. Iyan's soul almost left his body when he saw a white figure dressed in white sitting at the bottom of the staircase.
He was very happy to see him.
Iyan very much liked training with Sir Leo, ever since he was little that was his favorite part of the day.
Father also approved of his training, even admitting one time he probably couldn't beat Sir Leo in a swordfight. That is just how strong he was. The strongest knight in the empire, yet never given the title of imperial knight.
While Iyan got lost in thoughts they were already close to the stables, they were just passing the Northern wing of the Queen's palace, where curtains and windows were slowly opened at each floor, you could see the maids walking through the hallways, quietly waking up the palace. On the second floor of the palace, where his mother's chambers were, Iyan recognized her personal maid walking away from her room carrying something like a big piece of fabric in her hands. She was walking fast.
Iyan got curious and slowed down a bit. He waited for her to appear in one of the windows covered in the sun so he could see what she was carrying.
It was indeed a fabric, a white fabric, probably a bed sheet, oddly covered in red.