Creating Gold

three

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The Prince
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Prince Elias James Ferdinand Wesley sat idle in a bustling room of Lords and Advocates. He sat in a standard black desk chair with padding that itched his bare thighs. In his fingers, an unassuming bronze telescope that he had seized from his father's bookshelf. He busied his fingers with the thing, pushing in buttons and latches, and collapsing it in on itself over and over. He pulled an irritated leg over an arm of the chair as his father finally entered the active room.

The King wore a navy suit, like the ocean. With gold lapels and matching gold aglets on his shoes, he wore his affluence on his person like a tiger wears his teeth.

The King motioned for the group to take their seats as he made his way to the head of the table with sufficient, mannered strides and a straight back which displayed his long, tan neck.

The prince had an idea as to why the meeting was called, but the rest of the room remained unknowing, some having the sense to look a small part anxious as they all quieted their chatter.

"I apologise to any of you whose schedule may have been disrupted this evening," the tall man begins to peel away his dark suit jacket and places it on the back of the large red velvet throne. "Despite what the royal family had previously understood about the Prince, circumstances have led us to believe that my son, Prince Elias, will be one of the few Electus in our lifetime."

The room remained quiet, the breathing and air conditioning stuffed the large room like cloth bound china, uniting in a collective hush.

Elias felt the weight of his father's words settle on his shoulders like heavy armour. He glanced around the room, noting the tincture of surprise and anticipation on the visage of every present body. Some exchanged curious gazes, while others leaned forward in their seats, eager to hear more from the King.

The King continued, his voice carrying authority and a hint of pride, "As such, it is imperative that he receives the proper training and guidance to fulfill his duties to the kingdom."

Elias further shifted, uncomfortable in his chair, his mind racing with thoughts of responsibility and expectation. This was not the first time he had heard talk of his future role, but the gravity of the moment made it feel all the more real. He felt like a frog in fresh water as the other frogs hopped in the grass under the sun.

"As his father and King, I will personally oversee his preparation," the King declared, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling on Elias with a look of determination.

Elias nodded, but inside he wondered if he really wanted this. To find a kindred soul is an astonishing privilege, but he was just nineteen, could there be more time?

Unknown to the handsome prince, less time was granted than he could have imagined.

As the meeting continued, the Prince's mind continued to race with thoughts of responsibility and expectation. His father's words hung heavy in his heart, weighing down his thoughts. He imagined his destiny like an anchor dragging him to the depths of duty and his father, and it gave him pause.

Was this what he really wanted? He was only nineteen, could there be more time?

The meeting dragged on, and the Prince grew increasingly restless. He grew tired of the words and the weight of duty, and he longed for freedom.

But freedom sometimes comes in the form of the most unexpected people.

It was twenty long arduous minutes later in the evening, when King James relaxed into his velvet throne and sighed a deep sigh of relief as the lords finally allowed he and his son reprieve.

Questions were thrown around the room like sharp paper planes;
"How can you be sure?!",
"What does this mean for the kingdom, my king?",

And the single utterance sniped from a far corner of the room. A man in a bright red service uniform, he was an Advocate for the Celestial military, "Unseemly boy like that doesn't half deserve Electus." The Prince didn't say anything to that, nobody else had heard, what does it matter the words that melted from the filthy mans mouth.

As the meeting battled upstream, Elias continued to slump even further into his itchy chair. As he was spoken to, or about, Elias just felt more and more dread burrow a nest in his stomach. He was not ready to be Electus, he hadn't even seen a fraction of the five realms yet, and now everybody is explaining to him how he should fight, how he should act, and how he should speak before whatever happens... happens.

He cant even think it.

Elias looks at his father heavily, "what if I'm not good enough, Father?" The trunk of the boys chair squeaks as he seeks out his beloved sponsor, his expensive sneakers gripping the harsh stone of the palace floor.

"You already are good enough, 'lias." His father tempted softly, gazing at the door. "You always have been good enough." He says into the boys marsh green eyes.

As the man rose from his throne, he walks towards his son and rests his calloused hands on his broad shoulders and says, "you just need to work on that attitude you have." And he walks out of the room, chuckling at his son's returning stare.

the sounds of the closing oak door echoed around the beautiful palace, and Elias cant help but feel like a grain of sand in the vast, blue ocean.

When will he not feel the weight of the tide?

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