Author Games: Castle

A Way

"Harold?" The voice was soft, coming from a petite woman in the doorway. She wove through piles of books and papers to her husband, rubbing his hunched back with a cool hand. "Harold, you've been up for hours. Can't you let it go?"

"Isobel," the man sighed, dropping the scroll in his hands. "Don't you want a way?"

"I want a heir, but that's not possible. Please, darling, you'll find a way eventually. You've spent enough time sifting through these old books. Aren't they all on the crown?" Isobel picked up a small remote and pointed it at the nearby blank wall - abnormal, considering all the others were covered with bookcases.

A single button lit up the stones, and a monotonous voice asked, "How may I help you, Queen Isobel?"

"Computer, tell my husband to go to bed, please," she ordered, though it was punctuated with a laugh at the end.

"Harold, Isobel wants you to go to bed," the dreamy voice informed the king. He smiled for the first time, cracking the lines on his face, and rolled up the papers in front of him.

"All right, all right, I've heard it enough. Come, Isobel, just help me put these away." The king gathered a pile of scrolls in his strong arms, while Isobel struggled to pick up two of the thick history books her husband had been studying.

"Those two go on that shelf, dearest," the King called absently, shelving his scrolls. He was about to pick up more when he heard a loud think from behind him, then a giggle.

He turned to find Isobel, sprawled on the floor, crown askew, surrounded by many more than the two books she had been carrying. He couldn't help but laugh as he lifted his wife gently off the floor.

"I ran into a pile!" she explained, almost wheezing. "It was taller than me!"

Harold laughed and brushed the dust of her dress before kneeling. "Perhaps I should carry the books, Isobel?"

"Perhaps," she admitted, leaning over to inspect the open pages of one of them. Her voice changed when she next spoke. "Harold? Have you looked at this one yet?"

The king glanced over the page, examining the title of the book. "It looks to be a history of Panem. 'Twas over two hundred years ago that Mare was called Panem."

"What does this mean?" Isobel pointed to a phrase on the page, her face creasing with confusion. "The Hunger Games? What were those? Who was Snow?"

Harold flipped to the previous page and started reading. "A contest. Twenty four children, from ages twelve to eighteen were sent into an arena to fight to the death. One survived and they were crowned Victor, given money, food..." He trailed off. "It ended right before the Capitol of Panem fell, to try and appease the Distrcts. It failed, and then the civil war started, and then after years of fighting, Mare was born from the seceded nation." 

Isobel clutched Harold's arm suddenly, her dark eyes wide. "Harold, this could be it."

"Could be what, darling?"

"The way! The heir."

"Explain, please, dearest, I'm not following."

Isobel stood, beginning to pace rapidly around the stacks. "We send twenty-four eligibles into an arena of sorts - say, the old castle - and have them prove their worth! The winner. . . the winner is the heir!"

Harold met his wife's eyes and flushed face, grinning. "Isobel, darling. . ."

"Yes?"

"You've found the way." Harold jumped up, spinning his wife around. "Isobel, it's the way!"

Welcome, everyone, to Castle! As described here, there will be twenty-four tributes competing for the crown of Mare, a small kingdom in what used to be North America. More on the history of Mare, the royal household, and the tribute information coming later! Reservations will open October 19th, at 5 PM EST.