Plight of an Empire

Chapter Nineteen: Audriel

Mynoa, Rundil

“My Queen, your mother requests an audience with you in her bedchamber at once,” the honey haired servant whispered into Audriel’s ear.  She recognized the girl’s face, but could not remember her name.  It was not uncommon that she could not remember the name of a servant, but something her father had said many years ago stuck out to her.  Try to know as many as you can, Audrey.  When the time comes that you need them, they will be more inclined to help if they trust you.  Her father was always kind to the servants and taught her to be the same.  Even when she was irritated as she was now.

She pressed her lips in a thin line as she listened to the bickering of Lord Thorin and Sir Dryfus.  They had not stopped since the meeting held weeks ago.  She sensed an unhealthy rivalry forming between the two.  She dared not leave them alone for more than a moment lest they declare a duel on each other.  Death to one will not solve the problems of the realm.  “Can it not wait?”

The nameless servant shook her head.  “No, milady.  She said that it was of utmost importance.”

With a heavy sigh of resignation, she stood, silencing the men of the council.  “An important matter that calls for my immediate attention as arisen,” she announced.  “The council is dismissed until further notice.  When I summon you, I expect each of you to have a solid plan about how to deal with these problems in Didaan.”  She left them, following the servant out of the solar.  Two Brothers, one a comely fair haired man with green eyes and the other a less than handsome man with a dark beard flecked with grey, flanked her sides as she made her way to the fourth level of the castle.  Lord Ronan swore to the gods that they were some of the best guardsmen the Brotherhood had to offer.

What was so important that my advisory had to be interrupted?  Her cheeks felt heated the closer she came to her mother’s bedchambers.  The servant girl opened the door to Elviva’s bedchambers, ushering Audriel inside.  Before entering, she posted her guards at the door.  They could do better work outside than eavesdropping on Audriel and her mother.  The servant closed the door quietly behind her, leaving Audriel and her mother alone.

Once alone, Elviva approached her daughter, a grim look etched on her pallor face.  The black widower’s gown looked especially black against the white of her skin.  Against it, her skin glowed.  “Audrey,” she said in a quivering voice.  She rang her hands together, looking for the next words to say.  “I’ve received a letter from my sister.  I think you should read it.”  She picked up the cream colored parchment from her table and handed it to Audriel.

She inspected the now broken seal—red wax with the imprint of the Haerich dragon.  She unfolded the parchment, careful not to tear the delicate material.  It looked worn, as if it had been read a hundred times.  The handwriting was shaky, but clearly that of her aunt’s.  She read each line, her eyes growing wider the further down she went.  Her once pink cheeks faded until they shared the same color as the snow outside.  Finished with the letter, she stared wide-eyed at her mother, who bore the same expression.  “Is this true?” she asked, breathless.

Elviva nodded.  “My sister would not lie about something like this.  We can only assume that it is true.  Baen Wicker discovered them together.  And so Dravin has fled the city with Yuleta Wicker and her daughter, Aubriette.”

Audriel skimmed over the material of the letter again, confirming that what she had just read had not changed.  It had not.  It was still the same as the first time she had read it.  “What has this world come to that the long sought after peace our ancestors built is just tossed away with reckless abandonment?”

“What are you to do about this?”

She stared at her mother, the shock with her momentarily overcoming her shock with the letter.  Her mother was asking her what she planned to do about this matter of great import, instead of issuing orders as she was prone to do.  Audriel paced the area in front of the fire, reading the letter for the third time, memorizing every word.  Then she tossed it into the fire.  “No one can know the truth,” she said, watching the flames lick the parchment, browning it and blackening it, until it was nothing but ash.  “Does anyone else know?”