Long Live the ..........? [ONC 2024]

Chapter Two: The Beige Palace

Three months later......

The Beige Palace was just that, beige. From the walls to the drapes, carpets and soft furnishings. Everything was exactly the same shade. Even the palace livery was so beige, the guards and servants almost melted into the walls. The whole place gave off a feeling of hands off and one of the servants quickly attended to any speck of dirt or stain that appeared.

The palace had not always looked this way. Roz remembered as she swiftly traversed the off-white wilderness. That the palace was once a more vibrant and colourful place. But in the five years since her father had married Lady Elspeth Starbouqet. The Queen had updated the palace to her unique taste and so the Beige Palace came to be. Queen Elspeth had removed the tapestries and paintings from the walls, leaving only carefully placed mirrors for her to check herself at every angle.

Even the Palace Gardens had not been spared from her improvements. Roz thought that the eldest daughter of the largest florist chain in the Kingdom would have some eye for colour. But this did not extend any further than herself. Queen Elspeth had always dressed in the most colourful and outlandish gowns. Her make-up was always perfect and her golden curls were never out of place beneath her crown. When she had declared she wanted to be the brightest jewel in the kingdom. She had meant it, literally.

Roz frowned as she caught herself in one mirror. Her straight brown hair was tied neatly in a loose bun. She wore a white mutton-sleeved blouse with black pinstripes, and her black velvet waistcoat matched her long velvet skirt. Hardly the brightest jewel in the kingdom. One of the first proclamations Roz planned to make at her coronation was a complete refit of the palace and certainly no more beige.

She then heard a pair of light footsteps running up behind her. "Your Grace! Your Grace! A moment please!" called a soft male voice.

Roz grinned, but maintained her stride. "What is it Arlon?"

Arlon was almost out of breath as he tried to match Roz's steps while handing her a scroll. "The agenda, for today's Privy Council!"

Roz continued her pace while she browsed through it. "You should have delivered this to my chamber last night," she scolded.

Arlon apologised profusely for the delay as he jogged beside her. But informed her there had been some last minute adjustments. He was a small young man with thick, curly brown hair. His people were known as Halflings. Who mostly lived at the foot of Mount Spark, the Kingdom's smallest volcano. Roz had inherited his services from her father. Although he was quite young for an assistant, he had proved to be very resourceful.

As they approached the doors of the privy chamber, Roz stopped abruptly, causing Arlon to trip over his feet and fall flat on his face into the deep pile runner. "Why have the arrangements for my coronation been put back to the next meeting when it should be top of today's agenda?"

Arlon peeled himself up from the floor. "Your Grace, information has come to light that requires the council's urgent attention."

The hairs stood up on the back of Roz's neck. "She isn't. Is she?"

"If you mean, are the Queen Dowager and the official mistresses with child? Then no, they will be moving to the Palace of Matrons with your sisters upon their return for the Tower of Solitude."

Roz sniggered at the thought of Queen Elspeth spending the rest of her life in the Palace of Matrons and having to be nice to Roz in case she cut off her allowance. Oh, how the tide had turned.

"If that is the case, everything should proceed as planned."

Arlon's eyes surveyed the corridor, and he lowered his voice. "That matter should perhaps be discussed in the privy chamber, Your Grace. Walls have ears, especially beige ones." He gave her a reassuring smile before reaching up for the door handle. "Shall we, Your Grace?"

Roz beamed down at the neat little man in his beige shirt, trousers and waistcoat, where a little silver watch chain hung from his pocket. The only thing that seemed out of place was his rather large hairy feet, which were always bare. It was a mystery to her why Halflings never wore shoes, but Arlon explained it was a cultural thing.

Arlon had informed her extensively about his people, who were mostly regarded as an odd or quirky group that rarely interacted with civilised society. Yet Arlon had succeeded in blending in very well in the palace. No one was quite sure when he came into her late father's service. He just seemed to turn up while Roz was away at school and no one questioned it.

The Halfling grinned as he ushered Roz into the Privy chamber. It was an oasis in the desert of off-white beyond. Its dark oak, panelled walls hung with the shield arms of the most powerful families of the Kingdom. Including the Starbouquet shield which hung prominently behind the king's chair, which now in all but name belonged to Roz.

A large oval table surrounded by a variety of chairs with the king's at its head dominated the chamber. It was one of only two rooms the former queen had not been able to get her hands on. The other being the Grand Library on the second floor, a place the queen had no desire to frequent and so it was preserved from her improvements.

The rest of the Privy Council all stood as Roz entered and made herself comfortable while Arlon closed the door and moved to the adapted chair beside her. From her position, Roz surveyed the assortment of advisers and courtiers assembled. Many were getting on in years and perhaps could do with retirement. They all stood looking at Roz expectantly,  Lord Chancellor Beregold grumbling under his breath as he leaned against his staff. "Good morning Gentleman," said Roz.

They all continued to stand, muttering a good morning in reply. Roz then felt a tug at her skirt. She looked down to see Arlon standing beside her. "Your Grace, they are waiting for you to permit them to sit," he whispered.

Roz gave him a crafty smirk before addressing the council. "Of course, gentlemen, please be seated." There was a collective sigh of relief as the seven wizened old men took their seats. Roz gave Arlon a few moments to climb into his before addressing the council again. "Right Gentlemen, shall we begin?" 

(w/c 1091)