The Prince

"Our colors are black and red. Black for us and the Urmen, and red for the blood of all else." Rodia Tallar II, 1201 AV

Sherton, The Sun Palace

Green-blue-yellow flames danced and twisted in the winds. The black iron brazier was fifteen meters wide, three feet tall, and the moon-pale sky around the flame shimmered with heat. Even through the yellow Manitou suit, Orith could feel the flame’s intensity. Even in its pitifully flickering state, the sun-lamp made for a beautiful sight.

Orith waved his hand, and a servant was by his side immediately. She came up to the prince almost silently, her caramel skin hugging sharp, slitted eyes. Her hair was a light blue that fell past her shoulders and was knotted with black ribbon. She wore an intricate Mursea lace over a black and red dress. Orith frowned. “I know you, right?” The girl lowered her gaze immediately. “Yes, you’re Char- no, Karla?” She gave a small nod. “You used to attend my sister. She spoke kindly of you.”

“Your Grace is too kind.” Karla didn’t deign to look up. “I am sorry for your loss.”

No, you aren’t. Orith grimaced. “Thank you.” He replied. “Who do you serve now?”

“The good lord Willos, my Grace.” She twisted the lace near her skirt with her left hand. She was fidgety. “I am to help him prepare for the introductory ball of your coronation, and serve him thereafter.”

The prince raised his eyebrows. “Straight from my sister to my brother? My, you poor thing.” He exclaimed, only half joking. “Come, walk with me for a bit.”

The servant was visibly uncomfortable, which was understandable. She squirmed a bit in her curtesy. “I would be honored, my Grace.” She said through a plastic face.

The two began to descend the marble staircase, feeling the direct warmth of the sun-lamp disappear behind them, although its warmth was retained in the walls of the castle. They passed three steel doors, which were already unbarred and manned by four guards apiece. Orith smiled at them as he passed. Some of the older guards gave him a wry smile when they saw the woman following at his heels, and the prince winked back.

The corridors of the Sun Palace were long and would have been wide if not for all of the artwork. Plundered and prescribed pieces lined the walls and ceilings, with rugs and tapestries and suits of armor clinging to any place that exposed the smoky marble the palace consists of. Some serving boys and chambermaids were darting between the many rooms of the hallway, but all stopped before the prince to give their small bow or “Good day, my Grace”. To Orith’s relief, he saw no politicians or family members in sight. It must be too early for them to wake up.

Orith turned his head back down to the servant. The prince was a tall and, by most measures, intimidating man. His deep brown skin and black eyes unnerved most Skyormen and hybrids, who never saw someone so touched by the sun. His figure was slender but strong, and his stride forced many have to jog to keep up. He kept his stride short now, so the girl had no problem staying by the man’s side. “I truly feel bad for you.” He finally spoke. If not for the artwork, his clear voice would have echoed down the entire length of the hallway. “To have to serve my brother at a time like this. He is difficult enough to handle on a normal day, but getting ready for a ball.” Orith shook his shaven head. “I can sympathize, if not empathize with you, Karla.”

“You give your brother too much shame, my Grace.” The woman’s eyes looked up at the prince. “Ser Willos is a very honorable man.”

“Is he?” Orith noted her change in tone. Her serving dress had a slit along the left leg, and she kept playing with her lace. “What is it that he has you do?” The prince asked. They pass an ambassador getting out of his bedroom, silk robes clutching his frail frame. The prince and him exchanged nods before continuing on their way.

“My lord has me polish his armor and run his clothes between the tailor.” She told the prince immediately. “He has also asked me to teach him some La’thrago.”

The two turned away from the corridor, and took a stairway out and into the inner gardens. Large fig trees and drooping lantern flowers covered the yard. “La’thrago?” Orith asked as he smiled towards the old master gardener. “Does Will intend to learn it in a week? He’d have better luck brewing wine with his spit.” Orith had been trying to learn the snake-kin’s tongue for years, but only managed to pick up a few phrases and conjugations.

The servant allowed him a mandatory giggle. They crossed the paved path and under the shade of a fig tree. Several fruits drooped down to their eye level. The prince sat on the grass, and beckoned the servant to do the same. She reluctantly lowered herself down, sitting on her right side. “Your brother wants to learn the language to converse with more of the guests who will attend your coronation, my Grace.”

“Or he means to woo a sorceress or two before the festival is over.” Orith smiled amiably at the servant. “It’s a shame. Its as though he cannot see the woman who is right before his eyes.” The prince locked his black eyes with the servant’s own, and realized she didn’t look away for a few seconds. Good. The prince leaned closer to the girl. “We are all alone here, Karla.” He whispered. “There is nobody to see us. Or you.”

The snake-kin girl fidgeted and tried to stand, but Orith grabbed her and pulled her back down. “My Grace-"

“Karla.” Orith ran his hand up the girl’s leg, then yanked out the dagger from beneath her dress. “What is this?” He asked with quiet venom.

The servant’s breath was caught in her throat. Her jaw trembled before she spoke. “M-my lord Willos needed his blade sharpened-"

“Sharpened?” Orith scoffed. “My bad. I’d thought, maybe, that you’d meant to harm me at my most vulnerable. But Will never wakes up this early. Let’s sit a while longer.” Every word was spoken through a black grin, and the girl had no choice but to comply.

The prince inspected the blade. It was a nondescript, double-edged knife, scarcely large enough to be a letter-opener. She had really intended to use this? Orith thought. “I find it hard to believe my brother would use a blade such as this.” The prince said. “Will always had a preference for the grand.”

“Perhaps his tastes have changed.” Karla suggested.

“Yes. Perhaps.” Orith looked around, and pulled down a ripe fig. “You’ve been a great servant, Karla.” Orith began. “First you served my late sister for- how long again?”

“Four years my lord.” Karla stated immediately. “Loyally, for four years.”

Orith just smiled as he used the knife to cut a piece of the brown fruit. Juice ran down the knife’s edge and dripped to the ground. “And then you stay to serve my brother after my sister’s tragic death.”

The girl tossed her blue hair back behind her neck. “I serve house Tallar, my Grace. And your sister willed it that I serve Ser Willos after her passing.” She looked up at the rising moon. “My Grace, I must go see my lord before he awakes. If he is without one to dress him-"

“My brother can dress himself, Karla.” Orith thought for a moment. “Well, maybe not. But there are plenty of competent servants who will be glad to dress him.” The black prince offered the snake-kin girl a piece of fig on the tip of the knife. “Loyal servants deserve a rest.”

The girl quivered at the fruit. “My lord, please.” She looked at him with her slitted eyes. They were reflective with unshed tears. “I must go.”

“I insist.” He put the knife closer to her, and she reluctantly pulled the fruit off. She scrunched up her face, and ate. 

Of course, both knew of the poison which coated the blade. In the diminished sunlight, and pale moonlight, Karla began to choke and shake, her face turning deep purple. She collapsed to her side, her arms crossed as her throat closed in on itself. She looked up and saw a dozen plump figs floating above her as she died. Orith smiled all the while.

When Karla had stopped convulsing, the black prince pulled an almost purple fig from the tree before leaving. He bit into it as he left the courtyard. It was perhaps a bit overripe, but perfectly sweet. He told the master gardener to send some to his brother when he awoke.

Author's Note

Once again, this is a rough draft. Do you like the character? It is difficult for me to design some, more malicious characters, so I'm not certain if he came out well. Leave any comments or reviews below, and thank you for reading!