28. Nicholas
28
Nicholas
F or the fifth time, I scoured the port’s documents, searching for any sign of irregularities or inconsistent deliveries.
Nothing.
I desperately wanted to find something to report to Ella when we met tonight. Hopefully, she’d found something useful for us. As the prince, it wasn’t like I could go question the missing boy’s parents, like Ella had asked. The amount of attention that would bring would cause more upset and signal alarm bells. So I focused on what I could do.
Marco’s news had stunned me, and I hadn’t quite decided the best course of action. His camping trip had been a ruse. I should have suspected that the moment my luxury-loving cousin had said the words. Seemed I hadn’t been the only one inspired when Mira, The Coveted, addressed the throne room that day.
Turned out Windguard didn’t only seek increased trade from Highcrest, but from Duski as well. Given Windguard’s brutal history toward magic wielding folk, Marco felt inclined to deny. His council, however, hadn’t been entirely opposed to strengthening relations. Surprising, considering Marco’s kingdom openly accepted magic, as did most of the world beyond this continent’s shores.
What I originally thought had been a spontaneous visit to his favorite cousin’s kingdom had actually been his covert attempt to gain intel that would determine whether or not they sanctioned increased trade with the mountain-bordered land.
Another move he made that I chastised myself for not questioning was him arriving without heavier guard detail. I’d chalked it up to his comfort here. Instead, right under my nose, his guards entered my kingdom and laid low until they made their way across The Serpentine Line to infiltrate and report.
I wrestled with how I felt about it all. Angry that he’d lied, hurt that he didn’t confide in me sooner, embarrassed I hadn’t caught the irregularities of his routine. However, once he explained his true intentions, or at least, what I hoped was finally the truth, I couldn’t find reason to fault him.
When Marco’s men crossed the dividing river between our kingdoms near the base of the interior mountains, they’d stumbled upon a group of Windguardian refugees that rests along the Highcrest and Argora Vale border. I’d known about them for quite some time, and even though they technically established their base camp on my lands, they were isolated to an area my people never ventured.
Not even farmers wanted land so close to the cursed forest, so it’s not like they took up any valuable resources by squatting there. I had thought it fine to leave them alone.
Marco’s scouts had returned, giving him a full report on what they’d found. That’s when he chose to finally confess his dealings to me.
The state of magic suppression in Windguard was worse than either he or I imagined. Not only was magic outlawed, but the penalty was death. Had a member of Marco’s convoy not had shielding magic to conceal their physical tells, they wouldn’t have made it back.
Duski’s royal guard reported strict military patrol around Windguardian markets. They sent a stealth team to monitor Windguard Palace to gather more information. He promised to share his findings upon their return, more than willing to let me witness the report.
A part of me swelled with pride seeing Marco act so kingly. My confidence grew in him as a leader for his people, despite the trickery and lies. A true ruler never reveals all of their cards, keeping their game plan hidden until the most opportune of times. His intent toward me was never malicious. He simply saw an opportunity to scope out a potential ally without them knowing and acted on it.
In truth, I probably should have thanked him. After all, if it weren’t for his little covert operation, I wouldn’t have learned that members from Argora Vale had been forming an alliance with the refugee group from Windguard. Or that the camp, entirely populated by magic wielders, named Rahana, was led by a man named Radhak.
I raked my fingers through my hair, scratching at my skull. A burning shame nipped relentlessly at my insecurities for not paying attention to the moving parts in my kingdom. Within my own castle, no less, right before my eyes. My father’s scorn echoed in my mind, ridiculing my failure and lack of foresight. I would have taken a hand to the face if he were still alive.
“A good king will know the successes of his allies and foes, along with all their failures and hardships. Only then will he be able to truly move across the chessboard, conquering as he must.”
Shame continued to scald my spirit as I heard the words he’d spew at me when he was sickened by my actions. “This Kingdom deserves better than you.”
I squeezed my fists set upon my desk, whitening my knuckles. Ella had shared similar sentiments. And while I harbored no anger toward her, my blood began to boil. If it was clear to everyone, from a king to a woman in a small seaside village, perhaps the only one not seeing things clearly was me.
In a burst of rage, I screamed into the room, sending the documents flying into the air until they gently soared to the ground, settling around me and my lengthening list of shortcomings. Two guards posted outside the room moved quickly, standing in the doorway.
“I’m fine. Return to your posts,” I bit out.
No words, only the obedient movement of armor filled the space, leaving me to drown in the silence.
This was the first time since adapting to my role as prince that I felt unqualified. Too many things were happening at once, and by trying to fix one problem, I’d allowed the others to grow. Kidnappings, other kingdom relations, the search for a queen, starving citizens, on top of suspecting things were amiss within the castle finally hit me like a blow to the stomach. What was the right course of action? How could I start solving these problems instead of allowing them to multiply?
A gentle succession of raps at the door drew my attention. Ricks stood there with papers in hand, silently requesting an audience.
“Come in.” Ignoring whatever he wanted to speak about would only add to my daunting list of responsibilities to handle.
“Hello sire, I have a few updates for you,” he said.
I silently gestured for him to continue.
He approached my massive mahogany desk and cleared his throat. “The committee has finalized payments with all the vendors for the ball. Unless Your Highness would like to repeat those vendors, we will continue with sourcing from a variety of local businesses for the next event.”
“Yes, that’s fine.” I buried my face in my hands, dragging them down my face. Of all the pressing matters I had to attend to, worrying about which bakeries or chefs to hire was not on the list.
“Excellent, and as for, um.” Ricks shifted on his feet. The man rarely held back, and his hesitancy drew my attention. “Your Highness, I looked into the funds you requested for the lower village. It seems there’s a discrepancy in the disbursement.” He flipped through the booklet of pages in his hands and presented to me two sheets. “This one shows the outgoing from the Crown, but this one shows the allocation of the fund. You can see—”
“It’s less.” Fury boomed to life in my chest. In this moment, I tasted that same bitter anger Ella had been talking about. No wonder she’d been forced to witness her people suffering—they hadn’t received the proper funds. “How long has this been going on?”
Ricks fumbled with the stack in his hand, searching the pages until he presented me with more. “The first time appears to have occurred a few months ago. I’m afraid…” he hesitated, and I raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I may have had a part to play in the oversight, sire.” His throat bobbed, but I remained silent, letting the discomfort work the truth from him.
Would I be able to part with Ricks if I found him to be disrupting the kingdom’s welfare? Another disgraceful blunder under my rule. I’d relied too heavily on his talents and decades of experience in running the kingdom’s affairs. My teeth ground together in an aggravated clench.
“Of course, I already went to look into the issue. I confronted the treasurer, and, well…”
“Speak plainly,” I growled, my impatience thickening the tension between us.
“The treasurer claims he attempted to bring up the issue months ago, but that may have been the day I grew frustrated over the fund allotments you’d decided upon, and in my haste and irritation, apparently I’d snapped at him, claiming nothing should change.
“My childish outburst over not getting my way translated into a miscommunication between myself and the treasurer, to which he thought I was aware and compliant, and he did not pry further. That is why none of these discrepancies were brought to my attention. I beg Your Highness’s forgiveness.” His lips trembled, and he bowed before me.
I recollected the day he spoke of. He’d been trying to change my mind regarding the funds to the lower village in an attempt to try and offset some of the sinking businesses that wouldn’t survive another season. That was when Mira had been here, at a time when I naively thought she would bless this kingdom and solve all my problems. Before she was stolen away by that creature. Before her blessing had been broken.
My anger tore me in two different directions. I understood his explanation. It seemed rather reasonable, in fact. An admittance of human flaws. I’d never played my role as one to dole out punishments for not being blindly followed as my father had.
Ricks hadn’t agreed with me that day, but my say was final, and he had every right to be peeved about it. But suspecting there was a person, or persons, playing their own game within castle walls brought up the question of loyalty. Could he be playing against my good nature by fabricating a story that made it seem like a simple mistake? Or had the mistake been mine by ruling without instilling fear among my court.
He remained bowed in front of me, and I caught the tremble of his quaking knees. His old age started wearing out his body. My father would have made him hold the position until he collapsed, or simply sent him to the dungeons.
I was not, and would never be, my father. My mother’s heart in my chest wouldn’t allow it.
“Rise,” I whispered, heavy with defeat. It didn’t feel right to punish him. Not based on what I’d heard today. Maybe I just didn’t have what it takes to be the king Highcrest needed.
Ricks caught his stumbling rise on the edge of my desk and set himself upright. A sheen of sweat donned his forehead. So feeble a man couldn’t harbor a great level of deceit in his bones…could he? He removed a handkerchief from his chest pocket and dabbed along his brow.
“Also, Your Highness, the prisoner brought in for conspiracy of murder succumbed to his injuries, the healer confirmed it this morning.”
“What?” A steady beat drummed in my ears, drowning out Ricks’ ramblings on the subject. I’d wanted to question Heathson again, but with my business with Ella and gathering intel from Marco, I hadn’t made the time.
I slumped back in my chair. It felt like my head was being held under water. No matter how much I struggled against it, I could feel myself drowning, desperate for air, but finding none.
Ignoring what Ricks was saying, I ordered, “Retrieve the two guardsmen responsible for his capture and bring them to me with several of the on-duty royal escort.”
Ricks nodded, resting the stack of papers on my desk before swiftly heeding my command.
Exacting punishment on Ricks hadn’t seemed right, and instead of considering that my rising emotions could be clouding my judgment, I focused on how right it felt to bestow consequences for beating an elderly man so mercilessly that he died from it.