CROWNS I: Of Desolate Hope | ✔

18. Draken's Second Chance

Draken had been in Andris for quite a while. It was taking a very long time to process his request. Nevertheless, he had never lost hope. The outcome of the meetings looked promising. In the weeks of staying in the King's Palace, he had been able to enjoy the beautiful weather and explore the cities with deep cultural roots. Unfortunately, for him, it was becoming somewhat tiresome. Each day he would wake up, visit Anerion walk around, escorted by the Palace Guards. He had noticed that despite Andris nearly being as prosperous as Narantis, the citizens lived moderately. Everyone seemed to live in the same style of house and do jobs that paid similar to each other. Everything was very uniform.

Draken's usual pacing up and down the room was interrupted by a knock at the door. I bet I know who this is. As he ran over to it, he noticed that Ganan had a faint green glow. That's new...I can't wait to give this thing back. He hid the sword under his bed and swung the doors open. A woman stood in front of him. She was taller than most women and had long black hair that covered her ears, a pale complexion as well as very expensive clothing. Draken looked up at her and smiled, knowing exactly what she was about to say.

"This morning's meeting was great," she said, cheerfully. "I think you are starting to-"

"Win them over," finished Draken.

"Yes!" exclaimed the woman, "Soon-"

"I'll be able to return home with the gold and assume my place as the Prince of Anador," he said, grinning.  

"Exactly!" she said, "It's like you know what I'm going to say before I say it!"

"Almost," he replied, happily. 

Although she said the same sorts of things every day to him, Draken could not help but admire Arima's enthusiasm. Her joy was contagious and it spread to everyone she was around apart from Theoras. 

Theoras was one of the learned people in the palace. A while ago, Draken had asked him why he was always grumpy and Theoras had bluntly stated that it was because everyone else was stupid. Ever since that morning in the library, he and Draken had slowly but surely become friends over the weeks. They both shared the same views on the strange nature of Andris and its uniformity.

"Arima?" said Draken, inquisitively.

"Yes, my prince?"

"You really don't have to call me that. Draken is fine. Preferred actually." he replied, chuckling. "Are those paintings still up?"

"Yes but we're making progress," cheerfully, "I'm sure they'll do something about that soon."

Sure they will. When Draken had first arrived he had noticed that paintings of his family were everywhere. When he left the palace grounds and entered the city, he would be swarmed by awestruck citizens immediately. Progress is being made but nothing is happening...It's always the same thing. Draken turned and stared at the painting of his family behind him. It was commissioned when he and his sister were small children. I wonder how she's doing? Although he didn't like to admit it, Draken missed his sister and despite her attitude, he knew that wherever she was, she was probably missing him too. He tried very hard not to think about his mother. The people of Andris were friendly but they weren't family.

"Okay," said Draken, "thank you."

"You're very welcome, my prince," replied Arima, smiling awkwardly.

Draken ushered the serving-girl out of his room. "Do you know where Theoras is?"

Arima's smile turned sour. "No. No, I don't" she said, uninterestedly, looking around the corridor.