Tipping the Scale

Walking the Tightrope (Part 2)

He didn't have to pay attention to where he was going as his feet knew the way. Only too well as worries and simmering anger clouded his mind. Walking hurriedly, barely registering the steps of his guards behind him as he passed the once-familiar murals. They had been recently repainted, the depictions of old heroic legends and beasts of magic covered by sky-blue paint and images of the God Nostoc. The one true god according to the Pleberien faith.

It was as if they were determined to infiltrate every damn piece of this country, just to make sure that none could escape or forget the faith they were supposed to worship.

The church had pushed for the remodeling years ago, but Valerian had delayed the desecration by stating to his father how greatly it would upset him. It had worked as his father had taken pity on his son who had so recently lost his mother. That was until a year ago, at which the King had decided he was too old for caring about such frivolities. Simple as that, the murals which had covered the walls for centuries had been lost.

Valerian stopped in front of an oak door, behind which one of the many palace appartements lay. He didn't need to look at the gold plaque depicting a boar mid hunt, to know he was at the right place. Having been there so many times before, he recognized even the pattern of stone in the wall. Chasseurs.

Raising his fist, he hesitated before rapping on the door, receiving no response as usual. It was a futile protest as she had no real way of denying her prince entry, yet he considered turning away.

Only the frustration that had nearly boiled over during the meeting, made him stay and ignore her wishes.

"Wait here."

He spoke softly to the guards before entering the small sitting room. Decorated soberly in shades of brown and green, it was a far cry from the extravagant colors popular among the nobles currently. Valerian preferred it, finding it more timeless and tasteful than the current trends.

Maybe he just had an old soul.

He found the occupant of the room standing in front of one of the two ceiling-high windows, which allowed the midday sun to beam into the room. Dressed in an all-black gown with her long brown hair braided into a simple braid, Milena Valkyrea, or rather Milena Chasseur, looked as any noblewoman in mourning would. She had donned mourning clothes ever since her husband's incarceration. At least behind closed doors. To the outside world, she had sworn off her husband and lived as if he had never existed.

"Milena, it is me.. Valerian."

The woman that had been as a second mother to him, didn't even deign him worthy to turn around for. Her cold rejection hurt but it pained him even more that he had no one to blame but himself.

"I know you don't want to see me, but I need someone to just listen to me."

It wasn't the first time he had come to her. She had been his trusted confidant ever since he had started to take up his duties as the crown prince. Her sober mind and knowledge of the palace intrigues had made her advice invaluable to him. He had come to understand this better than ever after she had turned to silence. His punishment for ignoring her one request.

Not minding her stillness, he started pacing as he related all that was on his mind to her. Hoping that just saying the words out loud would help relieve some of his frustration.

"Father is falling ever deeper into the clutches of that wretched church. He doesn't listen to me anymore, and now that the mercenary army has arrived, he is planning to start his holy crusade south. Has he gone insane? A war with the southern states will only bring us misery. I know that he wants to please the faith but this is going too far!"