The young prince stood and walked to the nearby mirror in his chamber. He examined himself closely, but only noticed his tie, worn by time. With a grimace of disgust, he removed it, bringing to hand a pendant with a purple stone that he adjusted carefully.
"I never liked them much anyway," he thought.
"So..." a voice exclaimed behind him. "A mountain, many unfinished houses, a man who looked a lot like you... Do you remember anything else about your dream, Your Majesty?"
"That's all," the young man replied without taking his eyes off the mirror.
"Very well." The dreamkeeper continued writing and stood, walking toward the door. "Have a good day, Prince Mordred."
"Good day to you too, Don Norman," Mordred exclaimed as the dreamkeeper left.
He examined his dark skin, searching for imperfections. Finding none, he turned and returned to his seat. He sat upright, legs crossed, and picked up a newspaper from a nearby table. The same pages he had read dozens of times:
"Tierra Sagrada, seventh of Messidor. – Today marks the final trial of the 'Jousts for Glory,' in which the position of Grand Master of the Order of the Anointed will be contested."
"Mutiny in the Overseas Colonies: The Royal Army has been placed on alert."
"Ferris ravages a rural area of Vega de Tréboles."
"Ematia under curfew: new violent protests against the King."
"The City of Valoria reinforces the walls of the Holy See Castle: rumors speak of a security issue."
"Innovative cutting-edge device could revolutionize mail and air transport."
"Now that I think about it, I know only one little devil who might complain about this—though it was about time. Which reminds me... I haven't written the letter yet."
He took the cup from the table with his free hand, sipped, and returned it to its place.
He hadn't finished flipping to the next page when the door burst open.
"Oh! Prince Mordred," an older, well-dressed man exclaimed. "You're already awake."
"Good morning, Mr. Castel," Mordred replied calmly. "Yes, for a few hours now."
"With your permission," the man said, entering alongside a young assistant. "With this rain, I thought it would be the perfect day to sleep in."
Mordred nodded with a grimace. "Then why are you awake and coming to try to wake me? To bring me breakfast?"
The young woman accompanying him seemed to avoid the prince's gaze.
"Though some things never change—I'm not sure if I miss Lamora."
Castel set down a tray with bakery items wrapped in gold foil and desserts with gift tags.
"Courtesy of Don Guil Franco, Your Majesty," he exclaimed proudly.
Mordred nodded, watching the scene in silence.
"A counselor of the order..." Castel clarified.
"Yes, of course," the prince affirmed. "Does he think I don't know the Grand Master's counselors?"
The prince stood, carefully folded the newspaper, and removed his white gloves. With elegance, he took one of the desserts, revealing a tiny cake wrapped in fine cloth. He examined it for a few seconds and looked at Castel.
"Ah, it's called 'Enkythen'," Castel explained. "Very famous in Valoria. They also call it 'sponge bread' because of its texture. It's filled with honey..."
"I just wanted to know its name, but thanks."
"...Along with fine spices that we grow ourselves here in Tierra Sagrada."
"It looks very appetizing..." he murmured. "Tell me, Mr. Castel—will the tournament be canceled?"
"No, sir. The tournament does not stop under any circumstances. It's the way the most noble tests the competitors."
"Done, sir," the young woman interrupted.
Castel looked around, surprised by the impeccable cleanliness.
"Ha! You never disappoint, little Morgan. Excellent. Wait for me outside—we won't be here long," he exclaimed.
"You're welcome, 'Morgan'."
The young woman left with a subtle curtsy to the prince.
"Well?" Castel asked. "What do you think?"
"I think I'll try it later. Thank you very much."
"Oh, a pleasure, Your Majesty."
Mordred looked at Castel with visible confusion.
"By the way, tell me—how long until the event?"
"It's still very early—I think at least seven hours, Your Majesty."
"I'm not sure I have enough tea for that long," he thought, eyeing the nearly empty cup.
"Tell me, sir—has Viceroy Rosa de Plata arrived yet?"
"Hm... If I remember correctly, they reported the arrival of the Viceroys Espina de Valtor; they were the first, then Bradamante and Gudson, but not Don Rosa de Plata. Perhaps they had some delay on the road, Your Majesty."
"Always arriving late—like father, like son."
"Would you like me to have young Lorenzo look for him as soon as he arrives?"
Mordred lowered his gaze, avoiding eye contact with Mr. Castel.
"Yes... I mean... Keep me informed about..."
Castel turned upon hearing something behind him. Mordred looked up and saw an elderly man enter.
"Good morning—you must be the prince," the figure exclaimed cheerfully as he entered the room.
"My lord Franco," Castel murmured, bowing his head.
"This castle is full of old men," Mordred raised an eyebrow.
Don Franco entered the prince's room as if it were nothing, accompanied by a very small lackey.
"I've never seen one like this," Mordred thought upon seeing it. "Loren would go crazy if he saw it."
The lackey was smaller than a fist, black in color, with a smile that covered his entire face, yellow eyes, and pointed ears; his wings fluttered at full speed, making it seem as though he were hovering in the air.
"Good morning, Don Franco," the prince finally exclaimed.
"Welcome to Tierra Sagrada! At last I have the pleasure of meeting you. I almost didn't recognize you—it's been so long since I saw a Mountgarten with reddish hair, but of course, your eyes betray your royal blood."
"I'm sure with a little attention..."
"I see you've already received my humble gift. I truly hope you enjoy it. Everything here was made by local hands."
"Even the gold-trimmed edges of the king's bed? It seems Tierra Sagrada doesn't have as many problems as the capital," he thought. "I greatly appreciate the gesture, Don Franco."
"Please, call me Guil. It would be an honor."
"Very well, Guil..." the prince exclaimed. "First of all, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about the death of Grand Master Quercus. It's none of my business, but I know he was like a father to you."
Don Guil lowered his eyebrows, losing much of the happiness on his face; the small creature accompanying him perched on his shoulder.
"I'll take my leave, with your permission," Castel said hurriedly. "Sir. Your Majesty."
"I'll catch up with you later," Guil joked, recovering his smile. "Yes... We're all devastated by Asurion's... sudden departure, but he was already a very old man."
"Yes, about that—it's not that my father didn't want to come. He said he didn't feel strong enough to return to this island, not after what happened."
Guil looked at Mordred with interest. There was a brief silence.
"That shirt is a bit old, don't you think?"
"How sudden—and talking about things that aren't my problem."
"If you'd like," Guil continued, "I can gift you one of mine. I've had it for years and never worn it, and I think you, being much younger, could wear it better."
"Oh..." Mordred felt embarrassed. "Now I feel bad..." "Actually, this shirt is my favorite. It was given to me by..."
"I'll bring it in a moment. But first, something important."
"Of course..." the prince sighed. "What is it about?"
"This little friend arrived this morning with a message sealed by the king himself," Guil exclaimed, pointing to the small lackey on his shoulder. "He was exhausted, and he came in this weather, which can only mean urgency."
"Something about Mateo, for sure."
"That's why I sent for you, but I see it wasn't necessary. That speaks well of you."
"Thank you, sir. It means a lot coming from you. Though the dreamkeeper got ahead of you."
"It's nothing, Prince. The message is about Prince Mateo's wedding..."
"Of course."
"The message was sent by the king in person. The Sacrator of Valoria will attend the ceremony. He's already on his way."
"What? Didn't he confirm he wouldn't come? Now he's coming without notice?" Mordred frowned. "What a convenient way to avoid the king's excuses."
"Either way, they'll likely arrive tomorrow or the day after, depending on the weather. With this rain, they might be delayed—or perhaps not, if they take the fast route through Vega de Tréboles."
"Talking about political imprudence," he thought.
"Did my father tell you why the Sacrator is coming?"
"No, Your Majesty. I theorize it's possible he wants to stay and bless the wedding, if there is one."
"I understand, Counselor. Thank you very much."
"I'm happy to serve. Personally, I had already forgotten that Prince Mateo was getting married."
"Yes... My father announced it far too early."
"Oh..." Guil held back questions. "Tell me—are you happy for your brother? A royal wedding is a grand event."
"I suppose so... I truly hope it's a step in the right direction," Mordred's smile was faint but genuine. "Perhaps it will bring a smile back to Mateo's face—or so I hope."
Guil smiled.
"It shows that you care for him. You don't talk much, but when it comes to him..."
"He's my blood," Mordred said, turning his gaze back to the mirror, fixing on his bright pink eyes.
"And what about you?" Guil continued.
"About me? What do you mean?"
"You'll marry too. You'll continue your family's legacy someday."
Mordred turned his gaze, searching for an appropriate response.
"None of that," the prince exclaimed. "Once my father is no longer in this world and Mateo is king, I'll live my days exploring the world, far from all this."
"Like your uncle, Prince Mavernis?" Guil exclaimed with a disdainful tone.
"I'm sure he's doing very well, wherever he is."
"Well, even so, you'll need a traveling companion, don't you think?"
"Probably," he sighed.
Guil watched the prince for a few seconds, smiling, and concluded:
"Anyway, I'll leave you in peace, Your Majesty. I hope you enjoy your stay in Tierra Sagrada and the 'Enkythen'; our cooks prepared it with great care exclusively for you."
"Thank you again. A pleasure, Don Guil."
"I'm sure we'll see each other again."
"Yes... If it's not too much trouble..."
"Yes?" the counselor asked.
"Could you ask Don Castel for today's newspaper and a bottle of rosé wine? Any one is fine—I'll leave it to your discretion. I'll need them to pass the time," Mordred asked, slightly embarrassed. "And leave the lackey here; I'll need him."
Don Guil seemed slightly confused—or perhaps disappointed—but nodded.
"Of course, Your Majesty," he exclaimed.
With a bow, Don Guil Franco withdrew, leaving behind the small creature, which flew to a nearby table with a huge smile.
"Silence... At last," he thought as he sat back down. The bustle of voices was finally replaced by the sound of rain outside the castle. "Another morning identical to the thousand before it. Sometimes I wonder if this is living or simply waiting for something to kill me of boredom. I hope today's event is less boring than this."
The prince took a sheet of paper, along with a nearby quill, and began to write:
"Brother, I know you must still be angry with me over our talk, but I don't think it's healthy for us to be distant both physically and emotionally.
It wasn't my intention to downplay your concern, and believe me, I know what we're going through affects us both—not just me.
I'm not like you—I'm sorry. I don't know how to face problems the way you do, and now I understand that.
I'm truly regretful for what I said to you. I regret every word, and I promise I'll do my best to make up for it.
I've decided that our father shouldn't have the power to influence my emotions so much that I mistreat the person who loves me most in the world—and he won't.
We'll talk more about Marcos when I return. There are many things we need to work through, together, as brothers.
Thank you for everything. Take care of my ring.
Mordred."
With the letter finished, Mordred rolled it into a small wooden tube that the lackey wore around its neck.
"This letter is for Mateo Mountgarten. You've been to the palace in Lamora, right?" the prince asked.
The lackey nodded with a smile.
"In the second tallest tower is his chamber; if you smelled the scent coming from that place, you'll know how to find him."
Again, the lackey nodded excitedly. After preparing the letter, the prince took a small portion of the "Enkythen" that Don Franco had given him and offered it to the lackey as payment for delivering the letter.
Quickly, the lackey took flight into the rain, disappearing rapidly upon contact with daylight.
"Thank you."
Though the prince's thoughts were interrupted by knocks at his chamber door.