Further drama in the Verdimond Palace...
Wing’s hand tightened around Ethan’s as Ariel’s piercing scream echoed from the adjoining room. Wing turned to Ethan, fell against him, and began to sob.
“This is all my fault,” he cried.
“Sh,” Ethan murmured, stroking his hair soothingly, “You did the right thing, they wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t done what you did.”
A very pale Aria came in from the hall, looking ill. Aria was the High Clerk’s bride, a shy, gentle young man, with long blonde hair he often used to hide behind. Wing liked Aria, there was nothing to dislike about him, he was quiet, kind, and soft spoken, and he never argued.
“Are they nearly finished in there?” Ethan asked, anxiously.
Aria shook his head and sat down in one of the chairs around the long dining table.
“Do they have to do that…?” Wing asked, looking up and sniffing, miserably.
“It’s the law,” Aria replied, “Slaves have to be branded.”
“Do you think I made a mistake?” Wing asked.
Aria was silent for a moment, not looking at either Wing or Ethan, just staring numbly ahead. When he spoke it was slowly, and with a lot of thought. “I believe you see those people in a different way to how we do, I would like to be able to understand your perception, but I don’t believe many others here will be as willing to try and change their minds.”
“I didn’t want them to die,” Wing mumbled.
“There are worse things than death,” Aria replied. Wing bit his lower lip and tried to suppress another sob. Aria finally turned and looked at him, he smiled softly and held out his hand. “Come.”
Wing walked over to him and Aria took the younger man’s hand and kissed the back of it softly. “You’re a kind person, Wing, and you love these people. I don’t doubt that you’re doing the right thing for them, and this will come right, I’m sure it will.”
Wing smiled and curtsied. “Thank you, your Majesty, that means a lot to me.”
The next evening Wing retired to his room to find Krayon stood there. The blonde bowed low to him and stayed bowed as Wing came in.
“Your bath is ready, your Highness,” he said, quietly.
“… please… don’t…” Wing murmured. “Please stand up, please don’t call me that…. I don’t want… I didn’t mean for this to…”
Krayon shook his head. “Excuse me sir, but that would not be proper. I am a slave now and must act as such.”
Wing looked Krayon over, his hair had been scraped up into a thick ponytail, his usually soft and unblemished hands were dirty and blistered, his skin was sickly pale and there were dark rings under his eyes. The worst thing was the red and angry looking brand that had been burned onto his wrist.
“Would you like me to help you undress, your Highness?” Krayon asked, still bowed.
“No, no I can do that myself,” Wing replied, feeling sick to his stomach.
“If there is nothing else then master… “ Krayon bowed lower once more and then turned to leave.
“No!” Wing called, “Don’t go, please… stay here.”
“There was something you needed, master?”
Wing was quiet for a moment, then replied very softly, “Just you, Lord Krayon, like always.”
“Circumstances change, your Highness, one day they may change yet again, but as it is we must accept this is how things are,” Krayon sighed, then nodded and left.
The next day Wing was walking in the palace grounds when he heard a commotion coming from over the hill. Somebody was screaming. Wing picked up his skirt and ran towards the noise to see what was going on.
When he came over the hill he saw what all the fuss was about. Two of the guards were stood by the well with Rigel, it was he who had been screaming, and he was crying now and pleading with them about something.
“What’s going on here?” Wing demanded, descending the hill and approaching the scene.
“Your Highness,” the guards greeted in unison, and they both bowed low before righting themselves again. One of them realised Rigel had not bowed and swore at him before pushing him to the ground, causing him to fall splayed on the grass. “Insolent brat.”
“There’s something wrong with the well, your Highness,” one of the guards said, “We were sending the slave boy down to see what the matter is.”
“Please! Please don’t make me!” Rigel begged, curling up on the ground and sobbing. “It’s dark, it’s cramped! I’m scared! Please!”
“Quiet boy! Before I have you whipped to within an inch of your life!” One of the guards snarled.
“There’ll be no whipping here!” Wing said, immediately, his voice so full of new found authority the guards stood to attention and nodded.
“The well does need to be seen to though, Highness, and the boy is small enough to fit down there,” one of the guards pressed.
Wing gave an agitated sigh, then walked over to the well and looked down into it, where a rope ladder had been prepared descending into blackness.
“Fine,” Wing muttered, “I’ll do it myself.”
And with that he began to tuck the hem of his dress into his underpants so it wouldn’t get in his way or trip him.
“No Highness!” a guard gasped.
“We really must object, sir, you may be hurt!” the other said.
Wing just tutted and climbed over the wall of the well and put his foot on the first rung of the ladder.
The guards continued to protest but Wing ignored them and was at the bottom of the well in no time.
“I found out your problem!” he called up, and the guards faces appeared at the top of the well. “The whole thing has dried up!” Wing laughed. “Mystery solved!”
Wing sat at dinner that evening like he had every evening since he’d come to live at the palace, the High Clerk and Aria sat on one side of the long table whilst Ethan and Wing sat on the other. Krayon came out of the kitchen, head bowed low as he carried a tray with bowels of soup on. Wing barely suppressed a gasp as he looked and saw Krayon’s hair had been hacked off just past his ears, the servants must have done that…
Krayon made his way around the table, placing soup bowels in front of the High Clerk and Aria, the High Clerk continuing to talk to Aria as though Krayon merely didn’t exist. When Krayon came to Wing, the bride looked up at him and smiled.
“Thank you,” he nodded.
The High Clerk stopped his conversation and looked up at Wing.
“What was that?” he demanded, his eyes squinted dangerously.
“I just said thank you,” Wing shrugged.
“How dare you,” the High Clerk growled. “Thanking a slave!”
“I was just showing my gratitude,” Wing argued, frowning at this bizarre reaction.
“I know what you were doing,” the High Clerk spat, “And I heard about your little trip down the well today too!”
“Darling…” Aria began, laying a hand on his arm, but the High Clerk pulled away and snapped at him.
“Be quiet!”
“I really don’t see the problem,” Wing muttered.
“That is no way for a bride to behave, that is no way for a slave to be treated! Are you trying to undermine me? To make a fool out of me? Is that it?” The Clerk fumed.
“Sir I…” Ethan began but the High Clerk roared him down.
“It is your job to teach your bride proper manners, boy, so be silent!”
Krayon, meanwhile, hadn’t moved. He was stood with his head bowed but now he tried to interject, “Your Majesty it was my f…”
“How dare you speak to me!” the Clerk fumed. “Bernard!”
The servant was quick to come to his master’s call and bowed to him as he approached. “Sir?”
“Take this slave and have him flogged until he learns his place,” the Clerk ordered.
“That might take some time, Majesty,” Bernard chuckled.
“As long as you like,” The High Clerk grinned.
“No!” Wing gasped.
“And as for you, you are to leave this table at once and go to your room, and only return for breakfast if you are going to be a civilised and honourable member of society,” the Clerk ordered.
Wing growled, then stood up furiously. “Fine!” he bellowed and turned to leave, but not before swiping his soup bowel off of the table so it hit the ground and smashed. He then marched out of the dining hall, closely followed by two of the guards who had been stationed there.
Once locked in his room Wing threw himself onto his bed and wept.
“This is all my fault,” he cried.
“Sh,” Ethan murmured, stroking his hair soothingly, “You did the right thing, they wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t done what you did.”
A very pale Aria came in from the hall, looking ill. Aria was the High Clerk’s bride, a shy, gentle young man, with long blonde hair he often used to hide behind. Wing liked Aria, there was nothing to dislike about him, he was quiet, kind, and soft spoken, and he never argued.
“Are they nearly finished in there?” Ethan asked, anxiously.
Aria shook his head and sat down in one of the chairs around the long dining table.
“Do they have to do that…?” Wing asked, looking up and sniffing, miserably.
“It’s the law,” Aria replied, “Slaves have to be branded.”
“Do you think I made a mistake?” Wing asked.
Aria was silent for a moment, not looking at either Wing or Ethan, just staring numbly ahead. When he spoke it was slowly, and with a lot of thought. “I believe you see those people in a different way to how we do, I would like to be able to understand your perception, but I don’t believe many others here will be as willing to try and change their minds.”
“I didn’t want them to die,” Wing mumbled.
“There are worse things than death,” Aria replied. Wing bit his lower lip and tried to suppress another sob. Aria finally turned and looked at him, he smiled softly and held out his hand. “Come.”
Wing walked over to him and Aria took the younger man’s hand and kissed the back of it softly. “You’re a kind person, Wing, and you love these people. I don’t doubt that you’re doing the right thing for them, and this will come right, I’m sure it will.”
Wing smiled and curtsied. “Thank you, your Majesty, that means a lot to me.”
The next evening Wing retired to his room to find Krayon stood there. The blonde bowed low to him and stayed bowed as Wing came in.
“Your bath is ready, your Highness,” he said, quietly.
“… please… don’t…” Wing murmured. “Please stand up, please don’t call me that…. I don’t want… I didn’t mean for this to…”
Krayon shook his head. “Excuse me sir, but that would not be proper. I am a slave now and must act as such.”
Wing looked Krayon over, his hair had been scraped up into a thick ponytail, his usually soft and unblemished hands were dirty and blistered, his skin was sickly pale and there were dark rings under his eyes. The worst thing was the red and angry looking brand that had been burned onto his wrist.
“Would you like me to help you undress, your Highness?” Krayon asked, still bowed.
“No, no I can do that myself,” Wing replied, feeling sick to his stomach.
“If there is nothing else then master… “ Krayon bowed lower once more and then turned to leave.
“No!” Wing called, “Don’t go, please… stay here.”
“There was something you needed, master?”
Wing was quiet for a moment, then replied very softly, “Just you, Lord Krayon, like always.”
“Circumstances change, your Highness, one day they may change yet again, but as it is we must accept this is how things are,” Krayon sighed, then nodded and left.
The next day Wing was walking in the palace grounds when he heard a commotion coming from over the hill. Somebody was screaming. Wing picked up his skirt and ran towards the noise to see what was going on.
When he came over the hill he saw what all the fuss was about. Two of the guards were stood by the well with Rigel, it was he who had been screaming, and he was crying now and pleading with them about something.
“What’s going on here?” Wing demanded, descending the hill and approaching the scene.
“Your Highness,” the guards greeted in unison, and they both bowed low before righting themselves again. One of them realised Rigel had not bowed and swore at him before pushing him to the ground, causing him to fall splayed on the grass. “Insolent brat.”
“There’s something wrong with the well, your Highness,” one of the guards said, “We were sending the slave boy down to see what the matter is.”
“Please! Please don’t make me!” Rigel begged, curling up on the ground and sobbing. “It’s dark, it’s cramped! I’m scared! Please!”
“Quiet boy! Before I have you whipped to within an inch of your life!” One of the guards snarled.
“There’ll be no whipping here!” Wing said, immediately, his voice so full of new found authority the guards stood to attention and nodded.
“The well does need to be seen to though, Highness, and the boy is small enough to fit down there,” one of the guards pressed.
Wing gave an agitated sigh, then walked over to the well and looked down into it, where a rope ladder had been prepared descending into blackness.
“Fine,” Wing muttered, “I’ll do it myself.”
And with that he began to tuck the hem of his dress into his underpants so it wouldn’t get in his way or trip him.
“No Highness!” a guard gasped.
“We really must object, sir, you may be hurt!” the other said.
Wing just tutted and climbed over the wall of the well and put his foot on the first rung of the ladder.
The guards continued to protest but Wing ignored them and was at the bottom of the well in no time.
“I found out your problem!” he called up, and the guards faces appeared at the top of the well. “The whole thing has dried up!” Wing laughed. “Mystery solved!”
Wing sat at dinner that evening like he had every evening since he’d come to live at the palace, the High Clerk and Aria sat on one side of the long table whilst Ethan and Wing sat on the other. Krayon came out of the kitchen, head bowed low as he carried a tray with bowels of soup on. Wing barely suppressed a gasp as he looked and saw Krayon’s hair had been hacked off just past his ears, the servants must have done that…
Krayon made his way around the table, placing soup bowels in front of the High Clerk and Aria, the High Clerk continuing to talk to Aria as though Krayon merely didn’t exist. When Krayon came to Wing, the bride looked up at him and smiled.
“Thank you,” he nodded.
The High Clerk stopped his conversation and looked up at Wing.
“What was that?” he demanded, his eyes squinted dangerously.
“I just said thank you,” Wing shrugged.
“How dare you,” the High Clerk growled. “Thanking a slave!”
“I was just showing my gratitude,” Wing argued, frowning at this bizarre reaction.
“I know what you were doing,” the High Clerk spat, “And I heard about your little trip down the well today too!”
“Darling…” Aria began, laying a hand on his arm, but the High Clerk pulled away and snapped at him.
“Be quiet!”
“I really don’t see the problem,” Wing muttered.
“That is no way for a bride to behave, that is no way for a slave to be treated! Are you trying to undermine me? To make a fool out of me? Is that it?” The Clerk fumed.
“Sir I…” Ethan began but the High Clerk roared him down.
“It is your job to teach your bride proper manners, boy, so be silent!”
Krayon, meanwhile, hadn’t moved. He was stood with his head bowed but now he tried to interject, “Your Majesty it was my f…”
“How dare you speak to me!” the Clerk fumed. “Bernard!”
The servant was quick to come to his master’s call and bowed to him as he approached. “Sir?”
“Take this slave and have him flogged until he learns his place,” the Clerk ordered.
“That might take some time, Majesty,” Bernard chuckled.
“As long as you like,” The High Clerk grinned.
“No!” Wing gasped.
“And as for you, you are to leave this table at once and go to your room, and only return for breakfast if you are going to be a civilised and honourable member of society,” the Clerk ordered.
Wing growled, then stood up furiously. “Fine!” he bellowed and turned to leave, but not before swiping his soup bowel off of the table so it hit the ground and smashed. He then marched out of the dining hall, closely followed by two of the guards who had been stationed there.
Once locked in his room Wing threw himself onto his bed and wept.