The Imperial j o s h l e r

Lion Heart

"Good morning, Sire!" The woman sang in a high tune, throwing apart the large curtains. Sunlight poured into the prince's room, rousing him from his sleep.

The prince, a young man 20 years of age, groaned and turned over on his bed. The intricate quilts followed his body as he twisted them about, pulling them over his head.

"You're attending court with your Father today. Your mother is visiting her sister in Rockbourne, and you must take her place."

Under the covers, the man did not move. If his hands had not been preoccupied with holding the quilts in place over his head, they would be over his ears.

"Your Highness, please," the woman sighed. "If I do not return to your father with you in my wake, he will not be happy."

"Then let him be disappointed," the prince muttered, his voice low and unenthusiastic. "It wouldn't be the first time that I have failed him as his son."

Another sigh from the woman. Her hands, knotted with arthritis, fell on the quilts delicately. As if taking in the feel of the threaded surface, she paused. A smile came to her age-worn face.

Whisking away the covers with a single heave of her arms, she let them flutter to the ground beside her. The white canopy that hung from above moved in time with her actions, settling as she looked upon the indolent prince.

"Leave me alone." Joshua griped. He rolled over, eyes pulled shut tightly as he placed his goose-feather pillow over his head.

"Perhaps if I promised you German chocolate?" Margery questioned, a hint of amusement behind her words.

Joshua's eyes opened momentarily, tempted, only to shut again as he shook his head. "No." He murmured.

"Shall I have the guards come and force you from your chambers?"

"No, Margery," the prince said. "They shall force you out."

"Not unless your Father ordered them to remove you."

A third voice joined them. Margery bowed her head in respect as Joshua scrambled to his feet, throwing away the pillow.

Standing in the doorway was King William, ruler of Redfall. His vest, made of brocaded silk, showed a bright grass-green with accents of orange. Draped around his shoulders was a floor-length emerald robe.

His beard, full and the color of a log darkened by rain, twitched as he talked. The bottom skirt of it grew past the medallions and jewelry that decorated his mighty chest.

"Good morning, Father." Joshua greeted the King. "I was just on my way to meet you for the court."

A small chuckle escaped Margery. If not for his father, Joshua would have given her a hard stare.

"So you were." said the King, giving his son an incredulous smile. "Hop to it, then."

Turning on his heel, his father left. The large oak door shut with a heavy thud, and Joshua turned to face Margery.

She was biting back a smile, obvious to the prince. He only rolled his eyes and allowed her to retrieve his wardrobe for the day.

Margery was the head maid in Castle Redfall, and had practically raised the royal family's children. When Joshua was the only Dun child to survive a deadly disease that had swept the kingdom, he had been the sole focus of her duties.

In a way, he was like her mother. His real one was always off conducting business with foreigners, traveling to far away lands and meeting all sorts of people.