Summoning America

Chapter 176: The Crown Prince

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January 17, 1641

Washington, D.C.

United States

The gentle hum of the guest house's air conditioning was the first thing Cabal noticed as he stirred from his sleep, a stark departure from the natural breezes of the Imperial Palace's windows left ajar. A soft melody filled the air, sounding nothing like the grand orchestras of Ragna. The 'alarm' was soothing; calming, even. Cabal took a deep breath, letting out a quiet sigh as the reality of his new surroundings seeped in with the morning light that peeked through the curtains.

Sitting up, he surveyed the room – functional, with a touch of elegance, but lacking the personal touches and history of his own chambers back home. It was another reminder, if he needed one, of how far they had come and how much they had left behind. Shaking the grogginess of sleep and rubbing his eyes, he reached for the plastic water bottle on the nightstand beside him and took a swig.

He rose, pushing away the fabric from his skin as he made his way to the window. Pulling back the curtains, he was met with the view of Washington D.C. coming to life. It was a scene so different from the sprawling skyscrapers and vistas of the Gra Valkas Empire, yet here he was, expected to navigate this foreign landscape as if it were his own.

As he dressed, selecting from the clothes provided – practical, devoid of the regal accouterments he was accustomed to – he couldn't help but reflect on the day ahead. The breakfast gathering with his father and the others would be the first of many such meetings, no doubt. A chance to discuss strategies, yes, but also an opportunity to gauge how everyone was adapting to this new chapter of their lives.

He caught his reflection in the mirror as he adjusted his collar and brushed his teeth. The face that looked back was familiar, yet unlike the youthful Crown Prince of the Empire that he once knew mere weeks ago. He offered himself a curt nod, a small attempt to motivate himself.

Stepping out of his room, Cabal braced himself for the day ahead. He walked downstairs, the hum of the air conditioning fading into the background, replaced by the soft murmur of voices as he made his way to join the others. The smell of bacon and freshly brewed coffee guided him toward the dining area. The familiar aroma was a small comfort in a world that had become anything but. As he entered the room, he found his father seated at the head of the table, his posture regal even in exile. Pastall and Kurtz were also there, looking like they had barely slept.

"Good morning," Cabal greeted, his voice steady as he took his seat. The table was laid out with a spread that, while lavish by most standards, felt foreign to them. They were used to the elaborate feasts of Ragna, where the clinking of fine silverware and the murmur of courtly conversations filled the air. Here, the atmosphere was subdued, the conversation more tentative.

His mother nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes meeting Cabal's. "I trust you slept well," she said.

Cabal offered a small, reassuring smile. "Well, it's not the royal chambers, but it's something." He reached for a piece of toast, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in the act

Lux stirred his coffee and looked up. "This quiet... it's unnerving. Back home, the mornings were filled with the city's life, the people. Here, it's just silence."

Pastall leaned back in his chair and glanced around the table. "Never thought I'd miss the sound of Ragna's morning bells," he mused, rare nostalgia seeping through his normally stoic demeanor. "The quiet here is indeed... different."