Creating Gold

nine

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The Harborer of Amaranth Flames
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Eleutherius stumbled out of Elias's room, his cheeks the colour of roses, and his eyes glowing enchantedly at the thought of the captivating prince. Their conversation lingering in his mind, forcing his heart to beat erratically as he fumbled with the buttons of the shirt.

The grandeur of the palace hallways stretched before him, adorned with intricate tapestries and polished marble floors that reflected the soft glow of the sultry morning sun streaming through tall windows.

Lost in thought, Eleutherius ambled dazedly, each step echoing faintly in the spacious corridor. As he moved further along, he noticed maids and servants going about their morning routines—some dusting ornate vases, others carrying trays of food towards the dining hall.

"Good morning, Eleutherius," greeted an elderly maid with a warm smile as he passed by, her wizened hands busy adjusting a portrait on the wall.

"Good morning," he replied with a polite nod, his tone polite and sincere.

Further down the hallway, a servant boy scurried past with a bundle of fresh linens, his face breaking into a wide grin when he spotted Eleutherius.

"Morning, Luther!" the boy called out cheerfully, receiving a nod and a shocked smile in return.

As Eleutherius continued his solitary walk through the palace, more greetings and nods followed. It became clear that despite his memory and awkward tumble into their lives, Eleutherius had forged a friendly rapport with the palace staff. Each interaction, was proof of that. The kind smiles and warm words eased the subtle burn of his heart, the feeling of not belonging.

Another maid paused her working hands, her eyes softening as she watched Eleutherius pass. "You're looking well today," she remarked kindly, her tone sincere.

"Thank you, Dorothy," Eleutherius replied with a genuine smile. He was deeply touched by the concern shown by the people of the palace.

Eleutherius reflected on the fleeting glimpses of familiarity he found in the palace's bustling life. Despite the mysteries that sprouted from his murky past, he knew he was not alone. The friendly greetings and genuine kindness of the palace staff offered him the idea of belonging--a comforting gold thread in the tapestry that surrounded him.

He journeyed through the grand corridors, lost in his thoughts and the comforting greetings of the palace staff, when suddenly something collided with his side.

A young servant boy, carrying a tray of polished silverware, had bumped into him, causing the contents of the tray to jostle dangerously. Some clattering to the red carpet as the boy tumbles to the floor.

Instinctively, Eleutherius stepped back, his heart racing with an unfamiliar surge of panic. His mind flashed with fragments of a memory he couldn't grasp—a sense of danger, of urgency.

A sharp edge crept into his voice as he turned towards the boy.

"Watch where you're going!" Eleutherius snapped, his tone harsh and cold. The boy froze in place, his eyes widening in fear as he looked up at the looming man above him.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," the boy stammered, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Eleutherius's violet eyes glowed with an intensity that startled the onlookers—the servants who had grown accustomed to his gentle demeanor and friendly interactions watched in stunned silence as he continued to berate the young boy, his words cutting like daggers through the air.

"You're a clumsy fool," Eleutherius continued, his voice laced with a toxic frustration that seemed out of place in the silence that now surrounded the scene. "Clean up this mess and be more careful."

The boy nodded frantically, his lower lip trembling as he hastily began to gather the scattered silverware. The other servants exchanged worried glances, unsure of how to react to this sudden change in Eleutherius's behavior. They had come to appreciate his kindness and humility, his willingness to engage with them as equals despite his elusive past.

As the commotion drew more attention, a maid stepped forward cautiously, her expression a mixture of concern and disbelief. "Eleutherius, are you alright?" she asked gently, her voice reserved with apprehension, a pin prick of fear stabbing her heart.

Eleutherius turned towards her, his features taut with tension, his eyes the harborers amaranth flames. "I...am fine," he replied curtly, though his voice betrayed the turmoil within. Without another word, he turned on his heel and continued down the hallway, leaving behind a palpable tension among the small number of gathered workers.

The maid sighed softly, exchanging troubled glances with a couple of her colleagues. "That's not like him at all," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the hushed murmurs of the other servants. "Something must be troubling him."

With a sense of concern for Eleutherius, the servants returned to their duties, their thoughts sojourned at the sudden and unsettling change they had witnessed in their usually gentle and compassionate friend.

"Are you alright, Francis?" the maid asks the younger boy kindly, kneeling down beside him to help collect the silverware as his hands trembled.

"Y- yes, Miss Clara. I'll be alright." He says quietly, his voice betraying him as a single tear fell to his pale cheek.

And around the corner, a tall man cried all the same tears.

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