Collaterals

When Tomorrow Came...

"And these sanctions—"

"Increased taxes," Leila corrected. Below the polished thick wooden table, she clutched what she could of the square armrest, gulping against the dryness of her throat. They spoke in Tainish, today.

Upon his seat, the King was not impressed. The King. Now, dressed in the formal attire of Tain's Hand, sat across her father with such...authority, that tittle suddenly held a proper weight. He gave a tight smile in acknowledgement, opening his mouth to speak before coughing. Again, and again, and again, the room buzzing with a tension that put Leila on the edge. She stifled the urge to glance at Captain, stood by the door as her official guard. Instead, she took a breath, watching her father cough into his handkerchief. He'd had the cough for now two weeks, and it'd only increased in vigour, practically shaking the table as they'd dined. Leila took the moment to mentally revise the laundry list of Royal Declarations she'd been made to memorize. Finally, the King took a shaky breath, putting his handkerchief down. He looked at her with the same neutrality she'd hoped to emulate, "And these increased tariffs come about due to..."

She knew what she had to say. It was only...she could feel Ali's eyes burning into her, seated as he was by father's right, squinted from below the shadow father cast...small as it was, what with the night having just settled, candles lighting the high council's room. There were eight seats around the square table: five Advisor seats, arranged on either side of the table, another seat for Ali. That left two, at the head of each table: one for the King, the other for the Hand of Tain, when present. Leila tried not to shift, now, on the marble chair that suddenly felt too large for her.  "I'm sure your majesty is aware the Great Empire of Tain has...matters to conduct."

"I see," The King replied.  The palm of his hand raised as he spoke, "Only Tain has conducted these matters just fine for quite a few years, no? I simply do not see the reason for this sudden increase."

"The reason?" Leila  raised her brows. Were they really going to make her say what they all knew?

The King sat back, teeth grit from behind a scowl as he looked away. The advisors shifted atop their chairs, glancing at the king before they glanced at one another. It was Ali who spoke, "Yes: the reason, sister."

Leila held back a cringe. Hand. She was no sister, now, she was Hand. Very well, then, if he insisted she spoke what they knew, then she would. Leila raised her chin, the words feeling like a venom she just had to spit out, "The Empire of Tain does not need a reason, brother."

He straightened, for a moment flabbergasted. Then his brows furrowed as he lowered his hand, as though to collect himself. His voice was barely reserved when he said, "An increase of the taxes would mean an increase on the prices of the most basic items, if we are to keep things in order."

She waved a hand despite the cold sweat she'd begun to break into, "Then raise them."

He leaned forward, an elbow on the table "I know you've seen first hand that the people are already at a brink, Leila, and—"

"Hand," she finally said, terrified at the words soon as they'd left her mouth.

"What?" his body practically flinched backward.

She gripped the chair, "You're to address me as Honorable Hand, here, Prince Ali. I am still at odds what your business is amidst the council."

He scoffed, "My business? You ask what my business is as you spew the demands of a foreign Parasite—!"

"Enough!" the King hissed sharply head turned to the side as he looked to Ali. If he had meant to further chastise his son, though, he couldn't get to it, suddenly coughing up a storm. Leila grit her teeth shut, hoping they could end this. It'd taken all evening to get through everything, and she couldn't help but feel the Hand's Lapel Pin, oh so heavy atop her chest. It was the first thing they'd looked at, the advisors, before standing up to greet her, and glancing to the dammed seat she was practically drowning atop. It was likely the first time it'd been occupied since she was...born. She glanced to her father, a hand now on his chest as he continued to cough. Leila looked about the room, each of the men's eyes set on the table, lips pursed in such a manner one would think them mute. Useless. Would no one fetch water?