In Huck's Hands

Chapter 6: The Less I Know The Better....

The moment of quietness allowed my sanity to saunter, stifling silence shattered as the ballroom's grand oak doors crashed open, transporting my mind back to that fateful night I first laid eyes on Yana. Though she had been living at the palace for months, I had paid her little mind until that moment. As the memory took hold, the bunker's harsh fluorescent lights seemed to morph into the warm glow of the ballroom's glittering crystal chandeliers.

I grimaced at the swarms of preening Svetlan nobles packing the cavernous Buriti ballroom of my home, their hollow laughter echoing off the soaring frescoed ceilings. "Fucking party...I don't even know why I'm here," I muttered, feeling disgustingly out of place among all the pale faces essentially laughing at how little the Buritians had access to such finery.

The grand hall's lavish trappings were a sickening reminder of the plundered wealth seized from my conquered nation and then redistributed to my family's holdings--From the intricately carved mauve walls to the golden inlaid designs in every nook, all products of the native Buritians forced labor. I swirled the vintage port sourly, my jaw clenched as I watched the aristocrats fawn over each ostentatious detail.

As heir to the Vascan throne, producing an heir was my "royal duty"--A prospect that withered my bitter soul. I had zero interest in courtship, a fact that branded me the black sheep, not that any Buriti lady gave me a second glance. My crimson eyes marked me as an uncivilized savage in their minds.

I watched annoyedly as my portly cousin Dennis shamelessly pawed at the new Svetlan chauffeur we'd hired, his gut straining his tailored white jacket. The blasted automobiles they invented were already demolishing storefronts and running over children in the cramped streets. I shuddered thinking how much worse the bloodshed would be once those metal battering rams were unleashed on the common folk.

My sister Kash drifted through the throngs with practiced grace, her lighter red eyes twinkling as she traded barbs with scheming nobles, her glossy braids nearly skimming the black marble floorings. Though lower than me in the line of succession, she had always been father's favorite--more refined, more political...A liar. She flashed me a pleading look, silently urging me to join the power playing. I simply raised my glass and flipped her off with my free hand to her obvious dismay.

She may have found it indulging to scope out the future ins and outs of the rest of our sheltered life but to me, it was merely just repeating the same failing method of ruling that got our people trapped in Izmar to begin with. Even if near prehistory the stories of our once proud people of Vascaria were peddled by any monk that could get your attention. A truly dreadful tale of how far a people will fall...At least my father still held power unlike any of the other withered lineages of my culture.

The string ensemble's jaunty melody suddenly crescendoed into a lively Svetlan dance as the foreign aristocrats took their positions, gliding into the pavane like a kaleidoscope of jewel tones and powdered wigs. I watched in reviled fascination as their footsteps marred the immaculate floors of the royal Vascan palace, feeling the weight of generations of conquerors encroaching.

The Old Guard of Vascan nobles studiously avoided each other's gazes, refusing to let the facade crack. They handled anything my father was deemed unfit to handle by way of tribunal...Thieving our funds to send themselves on lavish vacations to lands I would never see or hear about no doubt. They only served to do what they did then at the party--Stand around and allow terrors to unfold before our eyes, the natives deserved better.

A discordant clamor came from the refreshment tables, shattering the contrived ambiance. I turned to see a skittish brown-skinned Buriti servant girl scrambling to clean up a spilled goblet of ruby wine, the sticky puddle spreading across the inlaid parquet. The other servants averted their eyes as raucous laughter erupted from the aristocrats leering around the poor girl.