Theobroma: Child of Fire and Blood

FOUR

All of the Charis’colia was represented, when not by the ultimate leadership of each noble faction, at least by those close to it through blood or rank. Likewise, there were several representatives present from foreign governments who had been in Crown City conducting business. Though presented as a palace gala, there was far more afoot than merely the return of Alban’s prince or even the bounty of desperately needed foods he had brought to save the people from starvation. Even with hearts made light by the abatement of the food crisis, there still remained an oppressive weight on the minds of the people of Alban.

“Mak Tares, there you are,” Duchess Cella of the Fifth Tribe greeted the Ling Mountain clan’s High Lord. “I’ve just been talking with the trade envoy from Zadiasam, that Kent Haleen person.”

“Pleasant enough fellow,” Mak Tares said, “but was he able to give you a better answer to when we would receive full food shipments than he gave me?”

“Sadly, no. His government complains of terrorist bombings on land and pirates at sea. I continue to hear rumors that insist little is being done in Zadiasam rectify the loss of our promised shipments and some to suggest their government is the actual cause of our problems. Meanwhile, Alban starves and you and I are overdue for this year’s contract negotiation,” she told him, a glass of stout dark wine in one hand and a small plate of meats and fruits in the other. “Our commerce secretaries need to confer.”

“I would think you’d be more concerned about this plague that’s killing people off,” Mak Tares responded grimly. “I would think that that would hold a far higher priority than routine business issues, your grace.”

“The prices you charge for your transit routes may be routine to you, but--”

“What’s important to me right now is the safety of my loved ones,” Mak Tares insisted with no attempt to conceal his annoyance. “Holiday or no, there’s no need for my family to be here!”

“Stay calm, Mak,” Cella urged him as she gently drew his attention to the event recording team spread throughout the room. “You don’t want to get too loud and become noticed.”

Cella drew his attention to a small fire opal in her hand. She closed the gem in her fist as she concentrated and whispered a short incantation too low for him to understand. The stone began to glow a bright red.

“Alright,” she said, looking him in the eyes intently, “people will ignore us for a few seconds. Go ahead.”

“We’ve had absolutely no trace of this mystery illness in the Ling Mountains,” Mak Tares continued, drawing nearer to her, “yet it was for some reason deemed mandatory that my family and everyone else’s be trotted into the most densely populated part of the country for the Crimson Throne’s glorification of the Lost Prince.”

“We’re celebrating our hero,” Cella clarified. “He has saved us from piracy and famine and survived years away to return taller and more handsome than ever. A little tribute is a small price to pay, especially for one’s future king.”

“Seven hells, look at the empty space by her majesty’s side. Princess Treutelaar isn’t present for this circus and she lives here.”

“You know siblings,” Cella said. “At least pretend to look at the monitors occasionally.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

“I appreciate your concerns, but try to calm yourself,” Cella said in her most soothing tones. “I don’t pretend to know much, but we haven’t had any solid indication that the disease is spread through contact or even proximity. It has resisted the efforts of both magic and medicine. That’s why the King’s Pale Pox is still a mystery and why it’ll probably be months before anyone can get another piece of amber through the Shadow Market at any price. King Tural has assured me personally that the situation will be one of tonight’s chief topics--sometime after the prince has finished yet another retelling of his pirate battles, I would assume. The rumors making the rounds say that the prince himself may have brought a solution rid us of it.”