Hide Your Fires - ONC 2023

Chapter Two- Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown

TW- blood, drinking, mentions of explosions (please let me know if I miss any)

Cyrus

"If we let magic pests have any freedom, they will destroy the way the world is as we know it! It is better to stamp them out than let them take the world!" Duke- something Cyrus couldn't be bothered to remember- was ranting again, which only meant one of two things; Cyrus was going to die of boredom, or the meeting would conclude early.

"Yes,' Cyrus began, smoothing his features into the perfect mask of calmness, "the world would change. But what's to say that's a bad thing? Hundreds of years ago, we worked in harmony with mages. Why could we not return to that mutualistic relationship now- work with them for a better world instead of solely focussing on killing them?"

"You know nothing of the past, boy," another insignificant noble began, "they have been our enemies from the day of our creation. You must not forget what they have done to cities like Aros. By working with them, you would be killing your people."

Well, that was all a load of shit. Firstly, Cyrus knew something of the past; history and politics were his best subjects after he had learned them out of spite due to a noble calling his progress in maths and science pathetic and useless. Secondly, the explosion in Aros could not be attributed to mages definitively. There was evidence that a factory had been the centre of the blast, so discounting the fact it could have been an accident was stupid. Unfortunately, royal etiquette frowned on the language Cyrus would have liked to use to describe those blustering old fools. So, he had to fumble for a response, picking at his face whilst he struggled.

"Well-"

"The meeting is adjourned. We will get no work done if we continue to entertain this ridiculous discussion." The King spoke, his voice reverberating off of the marble walls.

Thank God for that. Cyrus bowed, turning to leave his dark oak chair behind.

"Prince Cyrus, a word, please." The King called. Shit. There went his happiness.

"Yes, my King." He pulled his face into that perfect smile he was supposed to hold, fingers running through his golden hair as he let the others leave. If that was what his father wanted, he had no choice but to stay, even if it meant he couldn't rush back to his rooms or the library. What could he have done this time? He had tried to balance between being too loud and too quiet. Maybe it was his tone of voice? Cyrus always got tired or bored around the end of the meetings- perhaps he had let that become too evident?

All of the dark chairs had found themself empty except one. The King's throne glittered under the morning sun, reflecting rays of light around the curved walls from the platform it sat on. One day, Cyrus thought, that would be him there. Well, that was if he didn't manage to mess everything up before then, of course.

"Your face is bleeding. Fix it."

"Yes, Father," Cyrus responded, wiping at the warm liquid slowly drying on his face. But the King still barely bothered to look at him, instead acting very interested in his notes on the session or whatever he had written on that piece of paper in front of him. This minor issue surely could not be why his father wanted to meet with him privately.

"Son," he began like every lecture, "You need to stop fighting for the removal of the magic ban."

"What? Why?"

"Watch your manners. There are forces at play that you are too young to comprehend. All you must know is that no matter what you believe, the ban must remain for eternity. Understood?"

"Yes, my King."

"You are dismissed."

And so, with a sweeping bow, Cyrus turned and left through one of the countless archways that took him to his room fastest. Despite the palace's design creating spacious corridors, he had to push through the bustling crowd of people that had gathered.