Written in blood instead of ink

Chapter one

  

...And she died knowing that she had made a difference in the lives she touched with the little time she had with them.

A book slams into the top of my head snapping me out of my imagination almost causing me to hit the inkwell on the table next to me. I drop my quill and reach up to rub at the bump that was quickly forming.

"What was that for you senile old man!" I yell over my shoulder at the man standing behind me still holding onto the thick tome he hit me with. His brown hair was speckled with strands of grey. I always point it out to him since his age seems to be a sore topic for him.

"Have you even started your duties yet Sylvia, I hired you as my assistant not just because you are my niece but because you are intelligent and can follow commands better than the usual dunderheads the king sends to me. " As he is speaking I put the cork back on my inkwell and place my quill back in its stand.

" Sorry Uncle Fabian, I must have lost track of time, I was making notes and got lost in the book " I looked back over to the page that was supposed to have my notes on it. Only to find it completely covered in ink that had dripped off of my quill.

" I did manage to put the books you had requested back in their proper places before I got distracted"

" Well at least your not completely useless"

"Your one to talk uncle, If I wasn't here you would never be able to find anything, you used to just leave books on the floor or stacked high on the tables. I spent my first two weeks as your assistant cataloging the entire library and organizing the shelves. Only for you to never put any of the books back once you are done with them"

" Of course I don't have to put them back, that's a job my assistant handles quite well"

I glare at the back of Fabian's head as he makes his way to his desk by the doors. Looking down at the table at the mess I have made. I close my book and return it to its proper place beside the window overlooking the courtyard. I stare out the window at the ground below. A few servants are bustling about completing their tasks, I can count at least three guards making their rounds and in the center of the courtyard is the prince and his knights. They probably only share a single brain cell between the five of them. But I would never say that to their faces less they tell the King and have me thrown in the stocks.

I arrived here in Kerissia the capital of Eliria almost three months ago and I have never seen the prince or his knights set foot into the library. Makes me wonder how long it has been since they have last touched a book. Not that I would let them in the state I usually find them in. Covered in sweat tracing mud into the castle for the servants to spend hours getting it out of the stone floors. They could at least thank the servants for their work. But those men are too high and mighty for that.

Their swords clash together as the four knights spare in the center of the courtyard. The prince with a bow firing at the target set up only feet away. Knights are supposed to be chivalrous, kind and brave. But looking at them now all I can see is five children playing a game of make-believe. I suppose they would be children to me seeing that I'm possibly a hundred year their senior. Being an elf meant that my life span well exceeded one of a regular human. But that means I get stuck being treated like a child longer than they ever will. I don't come of age until I'm three hundred. I still have fifty more years to go. I turn away from the window and head over to Uncle Fabian's desk

His glasses are perched on the edge of his nose as he writes something down in one of his many books. He then looks up at me and motions for me to come closer. I take a seat on the edge of his desk which seems to be the cleanest with only a few pieces of crumpled up paper.

"So Sylvia, staring at the prince once again," Fabian says as he looks up at me from over the edge of his glasses.

"You mean the children playing make-believe, to think that he is a prince. Alastair has never seen a battle before in his life. I haven't even seen him leave the castle. He treats those he deems beneath him like they don't exist and only talks with his father and those idiotic knights of his." I know I'm going on a bit of a tangent and should most likely be holding my tongue. But it bothered me that he was going to rule this kingdom. But has no idea what his people were like outside of the reports he overhears from the king.

"Prince Alastair will learn and he will change, becoming a better man one suited for the title of king. Just like his father did before him. Humans mature and learn in a way we will never truly understand. You also need to remember that humans have such short lives and must make the most of every moment. I've worked in this library as its historian since King Dominic's father was on the throne and I plan to still be here when Alastair's son becomes king. I don't blame the king for letting his son have the childhood he never had"

"Why did the king have a childhood and what right does that give him to let his son treat people like dirt when the king has shown others nothing but kindness"

"Did you not pay attention when I was teaching you the history of this kingdom you daft girl!" He shakes his head and closes his book before taking his glasses off and placing them on his desk.

" Well then let me remind you. King Dominic grew up in a time of war, The kingdom of Helvir was attacking outlying villages in an attempt to gain more land for themselves. Which started up a five-year-long war between the two kingdoms. King Dominic's father died in the battle making his twelve-year-old son the king. The safety and wellbeing of thousands of people now fell on the shoulders of one child. King Dominic lost both his father and his childhood that day"

I feel a bit embarrassed that I had forgotten. Yes, the king had it rough and yes I don't blame him for letting his son experience the childhood he never had. But that in no way makes it okay for him to let his son go act like a spoilt child. When his son is almost an adult, he will be eighteen in just a few months.

"That still doesn't excuse him from being an as.." My response was cut off by the door opening. Standing in the halls just outside is a guard dressed in full plate armour, his helm held under his arm. Sword sheathed to his left.

"Apologies for interrupting, But the King Wishes to speak with the both of you"