Her Rightful Place

43: The Encryption

"Glad to see you have survived, Prince Xavier," Jerôme greets his friend in a satirically formal manner as they meet by chance in a deserted hallway near the Queen's torture chambers. The Prince has spent the day there with the Queen, a mostly silent witness to her interrogation of the Khandazarian captives. "It is unlike you to attend the Queen's usual activities, let alone for the entire day."

"The victims in this case merit my attention and presence, and shall continue to do so until their Grand Chancellor sees fit to reply to our letter," Xavier replies wearily as they begin to make their way back to their own chambers using the secret passages they both prefer. "I trust the rest of the palace has been relatively peaceful while I was occupied with our unwelcome guests?"

"Miraculously quiet and productive, actually. Quite a welcome change of pace. It has felt almost like a vacation."

The Duke's glib tone irritates Xavier, but he decides not to comment on it. What I would not do for a vacation of such kind for myself, he thinks mournfully.

"I am glad you had an opportunity for that kind of rest."

"Would that you could have the same," Jerôme responds, noting the Prince's countenance and demeanor. He would give anything to be almost anywhere but here, I think, he observes. "Did you learn anything valuable from our distinguished, unorthodox visitors?"

"Sending them here at all was ill-considered by the Grand Chancellor, but he could not have chosen better candidates to be our captives, at least to suit his own interests. They either truly know nothing of his plans, or they have been trained to withstand all kinds of mind games and torture." The Prince sighs, running a hand through his already quite mussed hair. "Having observed today's proceedings, I am inclined to believe the former. The Queen, however, will not be satisfied except by breaking them or by their deaths."

"I would wager that she would prefer both, in truth."

"I would not take that wager against you. But to answer your question forthrightly, we have gleaned no useful information. What else the Grand Chancellor might have planned, or even why the Grand Chancellor has taken such a keen interest in allying himself with Vyrunia through marriage to the Princess Mireille, remains a mystery, as does all other potentially useful information."

"A pity, that. I wonder if Her Majesty's patience will last long enough for the Grand Chancellor to provide a response to your inquiries."

"Your guess is as good as mine. For the sake of the peace, however, I hope it does." They emerge from the passageways into the Prince's study and immediately hear voices in his antechamber.

"Surely you can just leave the messages here?" Jerôme's valet questions wearily.

"Instructions I have, give to Pelanshire Duke only, no other," a vaguely familiar voice answers insistently. From the sound of their voices, they have had this conversation a few times before the arrival of the Prince and the Duke.

"Then fret no more, for the Pelanshire Duke has arrived," Jerôme announces ironically.

"I God give my thanks!" the vaguely familiar voice, a Vyrunian courier who has brought messages to them once or twice before, exclaims fervently. He is young and his Mordalcean is poor, but, as Christelle explained to Jerôme in one of her letters, he is loyal and too light to be much burden to a horse, making him one of the fastest and most reliable messengers at her disposal. In light of recent events, the Duke of Pelanshire has no doubt that the tidings brought by this courier's hand are urgent.

"As do we, for your safe arrival. The messages, without delay, good lad."

The courier bows deeply to the Duke and the Prince and presents the former with a small bundle of parchment, tied up with a long pink ribbon that kisses the air with a hint of Vyrunian perfume.