The morning found me awake. I hadn't closed my eyes all night; so many things were spinning in my head I felt like I'd drunk ten coffees spiked with energy drinks in a row.
My brain kept grinding over this whole interface thing, that encyclopedia. I had run a multitude of tests, read as much as I could. Even the nursery rhymes, just in case something was hidden there,but no… That had just been a waste of time.
I rolled onto my back, eyes fixed on the painted starry night covering the ceiling, faintly visible through the canopy's veil. Everything was so rich, so elegant, so foreign that it was almost suffocating.
At that moment, I pictured my student room again: four yellowed walls, the squeaky bed, and the leaking mini-fridge. It felt like a comforting cocoon.
Here, I had a canopy bed soft as a cloud, curtains heavier than my old monthly budget, and silk pillows I could literally disappear into. But it didn't feel like all this was mine. It was far too unreal.
I was still the fragile, sickly prince everyone thought half-dead. An ideal prey for the vultures. I could maybe let them have their way, not bother them, and just keep enjoying the luxury… But would that really be me?
I pushed myself upright, or rather, tried to. My body protested as if I were a two-hundred-kilo arthritic old man. But at least I was sitting up now.
I heard footsteps at the door. Out of reflex, I almost lay back down to play the comatose patient.
A maid entered, head bowed, bowing ceremoniously while holding a steaming tray with golden bread, clear soup, and fruit. She wore a long dark-blue cotton dress and a light-blue apron. She even had shoes.
She stayed frozen like that for long minutes, as if she were a robot that had suddenly broken down.
I dared to speak:
"Uh… Good morning."
"Good morning, Your Royal Highness. I am Elèrys, I have the humble honor of being your first maid."
She answered without moving or looking up, still bowed.
"The first? No, I already had one downstairs,"
I said back.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I don't have that information. Being now your first maid, perhaps your former maid is under my orders. I shall inquire if you wish."
"No, it's fine. Is that my breakfast?"
"Yes, would you like me to bring it to your bed, Your Highness?"
I nodded, and only then did she move. Still keeping her head lowered, never once looking at me. I know it's supposed to be respectful, but I find it disturbing, like I don't really exist.
She placed the covered tray at my bedside and told me to ring if I needed anything at all, then left the chamber walking backward, never turning her back to me, still with her head down…
So pompous!
My thoughts went back to the cat-girl. She seemed more human, less robotic. And seeing how the ministers treated her, I'm worried… She was the only one who really stood by me. I hope she visits me soon; her soft voice had the power to calm me.
Just then, someone knocked at the door. Heavy footsteps filled the room, along with foul perfume.
The ministers.
They entered like a flock of crows, all six this time. Faces masked with false smiles, hands weighed down by rings, eyes calculating.
Silence fell over the royal chamber as the Duke of Calistram stepped forward. Despite his venerable age, he stood straight. Each step carried the weight of an ancient ritual. His long gray cloak dragged behind him, and his fist pressed firmly to his chest radiated unshakable faith.
He bent the knee slowly but without trembling, and his deep voice rose:
"I, Duke of Calistram, servant of Almaris, elder among ministers, swear eternal fidelity and loyalty to Your Highness, Crowned Prince, heir of royal blood. May the Dragon Gods devour my soul if I break this oath."
He bowed his head, awaiting my response.
I struggled to keep a dignified face, lifted a trembling hand, exaggerating my weakness, and spoke as solemnly as I could, voice weak:
"I receive your oath, Duke of Calistram. May the Gods guide you in your duty."
He rose. My answer seemed to please him, though hidden behind the gravity of a monk at prayer. He stepped aside.
Next came the Duke of Veynard. Round, covered in flashy jewels, he looked more like a mix between a bling-bling rapper and a wedding cake than a noble. He bent very low in theatrical fashion, his flexibility impressive for his bulk, I thought he might tip over.
"I, Duke of Veynard… I swear my loyalty and devotion to Your Highness Prince Dragobert III. May the Gods grant us the best of understandings."
Hmm… Not very convincing. The understanding he wants only goes one way. He wants me as nothing but a puppet.
I raised my hand again.
"I receive your oath, Duke of Veynard."
Behind him, like a shadow, came the other minister I had seen in the dungeon-like chamber. Tall but bloated, chest puffed out servilely. His many rings clinked as he pressed a fist to his chest.
"I, Duke of Loras, swear loyalty to the Crowned Prince."
Short… but efficient.
I replied in the same tone than with others:
"I receive your oath, Duke of Loras."
Then came the Duke of Ervalion. Younger than the others, elegant, smile confident, wearing a cape with loud embroidery that defied convention. His bow was supple, theatrical without being ridiculous, and his voice charmed the assembly at once:
"I, Duke of Ervalion, faithful servant of the crown, pledge my oath to Your Majesty. May the heavens guide your steps."
This one… surprisingly seems thoughtful, unlike the rest.
"I receive your oath, Duke of Ervalion."
Then approached another. Blond curls, proud pointed moustache like a musketeer. Refined, his charming smile could have seduced a statue of a Goddess.
He bent on one knee, voice ringing like a tragic actor's aria:
"I, Duke of Malrecourt, swear loyalty to Your Highness, the Awakened Prince, blessed by the Gods, who shall raise our kingdom as he has himself."
Wow, he would have been a star in old tragic theater.
"I receive your oath, Duke of Malrecourt."
Finally… heavy dragging steps announced the last one.
A massive man, his cloak failing to hide a hunch, red beard sticky-looking, green eyes bloodshot like burning coals. He swayed slightly before kneeling, and the stench of sour wine hit my nose.
"I, Duke of Bellifort… hic… Lord of Feasts, swear… uh… loyalty to Your Majesty… for life! And… may wine flow in your honor!"
An awkward silence followed his oath, which he broke with a booming laugh.
Great… a drunkard as minister. This'll be fun.
After a moment of disbelief, I replied:
"I receive your oath, Duke of Bellifort."
The solemn moment ended, and the Duke of Calistram spoke again, raising his arms as if blessing the chamber:
"By the grace of the Gods, our Prince has awakened! To honor the Gods for this miracle, and the power of royal blood, a week of festivities has been proclaimed. Prayers, banquets, spectacles, so the people may see the heavens still watch over Almaris."
All the ministers nodded. Duke Bellifort smiled wider than the others…Surely at the thought of banquets, not prayers.
*Ding*
A chime rang inside my head. Immediately I wondered what it was, and the interface appeared before me. The ministers kept babbling; thankfully they seemed unable to see it. I willed it to close at once, and it vanished.
My heart was pounding in my temples after that surprise.
I coughed lightly, feigning exhaustion, to reinforce the image of a fragile prince, mostly so they'd leave me alone.
"Your Majesty…" added Malrecourt, his voice smooth
"...The people await only your appearance. But for now, rest. Your strength must return… and we shall pray you soon bless your subjects with your presence."
I thanked them with a nod, pretending to fight fatigue.
Inside, though, I was boiling:
Rest, yes… as if I had much choice physically. But more importantly, I need to prepare my cards. How am I going to play this game? And why did the interface open by itself?
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The Awakening of Prince Drago
Chapter 5: Morning Allegiance
Author: Léonardo de Deuille