The Portal

I 1.3 Don't go near her

Palatials, 1133

Noa Rariff woke up hours after dawn. When he was in Palatials, he had no right time to wake up. What a pity there were only a few days left there. He didn't want to go back. He was fed up with Shailaja. Why did he need to go anyway? Was he not already going to be the Kral? He remembered that it was the year of the Ceremony and enjoyed a few more minutes in bed, pulling on the dark blue sheets, in the same tone as the long curtains that prevented the light from entering. With his eyes still heavy, he looked at his room in Palatials and thought, once again, how nothing seemed right. The curtains, the sheets and the upholstery on the chairs were the only dark things in that room surrounded by light walls on the white, green and gold marble floor. In front of him, a rich hand-painted dresser sported fine details that mimicked the branches of a gold vine. On top of it there was a small mirror, surrounded by dozens of long strips filled with precious stones that shone cheerfully, spilling colored bundles all over the place. Noa looked up at the ceiling, where, with a very small brush, some skilled artist had drawn the old inscriptions. The letters were far-fetched and continuous, like small waves of the sea, forming a large circle of words that could be seen from all over the room. But Noa, like everyone else who lived there, did not know what they meant.

Sitting on the bed, he leaned against the pillows and watched as the colored bundles reflected strangely in the long silver candlestick that was on the nightstand. One more item placed there that didn't match Palatials at all. Blue and silver were the colors of the Rariffs, an ancient and prosperous family, of which Noa was the only descendant. Her uncle Ür had been Kral since Noa was only eleven, since the day his parents died.

There was a knock at the door.

- Rariff, wake up.

Without hesitating, Liam Roparzh opened the double anteroom door of his quarters and dropped into a large soft leather chair. He tossed his long blond hair back and placed his legs on the coffee table.

- Shall we have coffee? I brought your mail - he announced.

- I'm just going to fix this beard - Noa replied, as he headed for the bathroom. He left the door ajar, because he knew that Liam was unable to wait without making his usual comments...

- You won't believe how the night ended yesterday ...

- Why don't you tell me?

- How about a guess?

- I can guess you didn't sleep alone ...

- That was a safe guess! I received a visit from the widowed countess...

- You are hopeless, Roparzh.

- Me? You are hopeless, Rariff, staying here all locked up, while a lot of women are out there wanting to meet the future Kral!

- The future Kral! My uncle will still reign for a long time, I don't even want to think about it.

While working with the razor, Noa took the time to think about Liam's criticism. In fact, he always attended balls. Liam was being so unfair. He had even been there last night. But really, whenever he met someone, he felt that her manners were not original. His position intimidated most people, and he noticed the affected air, the rehearsed conduct ... Besides, his interest did not last more than one night. Liam, on the contrary, was too interested.

- Rariff, did you see this story in The Weekly news? About you?

Noa sighed. Once a week, they received The Weekly news. It was written by hand and did not contain much detail, but it was a good form of communication between the clans. Often, the Weekly was late, as its delivery was made by messengers. On second thought, Noa realized that this time it had taken well over a week to arrive. For this reason, most of the time, the news was old and irrelevant, which meant that it became, more and more, just a source of silly gossip between the courts. He asked the gods for patience to deal with yet another flood of slander.