The Rose of Thorns

Burgundy?Mahogany?

"We must not say every mistake is a foolish one." - Cicero

         Cyrus Theohaven, the king’s chief mystic, was known for his perceptiveness and sharp senses...at least in his prime he was. Old age is kind to some and cruel to others and unfortunately Mr.Theohaven belonged to the latter.

        Most recently he spent his days either snoozing or battering Henry,his young assistant with a wooden cane. Only occasionally was he called on to perform his original duties, delivering prophecies.

       Today happened to be one of those rare occasions, the birth of Leo Stormstrung, the first child of Amaritzia and Calvin Stormstrung, the Crown Prince of Bodor. 

        Even with his bad back, Cyrus Theohaven swelled with pride. He had been chosen over all of the young up-and-coming  "whippersnappers" to deliver the young Prince's birth prophecy. He still had life in him yet! And he would prove it.

       "Henry! Fetch me my robes." Yelled the elderly man, as loud as his feeble voice could manage. 

        Moments later, a plucky looking teen with green eyes and a red tipped nose appeared in the doorway. "Do you mean this robe sir?" He said calmly, preparing himself for the test of patience that inevitably came with any conversation between Cyrus and himself.

     "I SAY speak up lad! Youth these days, always mumbling to themselves it will do you no good."

      "Do you mean this robe sir?" Repeated Henry much louder, as he held up a neatly hanged garment.

      The old mystic strained his eyes, peering intensely at the vivid blue robe. “Not that robe sunny boy," said Cyrus in vexation. "The ones I used to wear in the old days."

      "THAT robe." Replied Henry in astonishment, "B-but you haven’t worn it in years...and its so...outdated."

      "I say fetch me my robe Henry!" To prove his point, Mr.Theohaven's last comment was backed up with a swift movement of his wooden cane directly onto Henry's hindquarters.

     The poor boy quickly scuffled out of the chief mystics room in search of a severely old and out of fashion robe. Every step of the way he resisted the urge to comfort his sore bottom. 

    Being as flustered and preoccupied as he was, he failed to notice an equally flustered and preoccupied girl walking in the opposite direction...until he smacked right into her.

   "I am so sorry." 

   "No! I am so sorry."

   "Mr.Theohaven wants me to find his old robe."

   "Mrs.Eppletston wants me to find purple spiders' silk."

    "He smacks me with a cane."

     "She pinches my cheeks"

     "God! I--"

      "Hate my job!"

      They spoke simultaneously, eyes wide in astonishment and faces burning crimson. 

       "Are you going to the Prince's ceremony?" The girl asked sheepishly after a few awkward moments of silence. 

     "Yes wh--"

     "Then sit beside me. I'll be in the seamstress section. My name is Julia...by the way." Julia, the seamstress’s assistant lowered her eyes to the ground once more and swiftly walked away from the baffled Henry.