The Royal Palace

The Royal Palace is as opulent and magnificent as she imagined. Built out of shiny white stones, it glistens in the sun. Tall, slender towers rise to the skies, bright banners flapping merrily in the wind. An old-fashioned moat with swanlike birds gracefully gliding across clear water surrounds it. A proper fairytale castle.

Once inside, Diane finds the throne room as splendid as the outside, if not more. Raised on a low podium stand four golden thrones. Her eyes are immediately drawn to the tallest and most imposing person seated in them: King Caelric of the House Virelion. With his stylishly fair hair and beard -- and the heavy crown on his head -- he certainly looks the part.

The king gives their company a small but polite nod and Diane’s eyes travel to his left. Ugh, instead of the queen, Princess Aurelia sits there, as smug and superior as ever. Trying not to make a face, Diane quickly looks away. Next to Aurelia is a young man, perhaps a little older than Alder. He gives her a curious wink and hides a grin behind a hand before reaching up to straighten his decidedly lopsided crown. Diane winks back, feeling better about the situation already.

The third royal sibling is a younger girl, probably in her early to mid-teens, in a pretty purple dress and with a golden tiara resting on her slightly untamed blonde locks. She gives Diane a shy but sweet smile. It seems Aurelia’s vile personality isn’t representative of her entire family. Thank god.

The speeches carry on forever, but fortunately, nobody is expecting her to say anything. So, she just stands there, uncomfortably self-conscious about the glances and whispers, letting Aster and Tenna do the talking when there’s a need for words. Even here in court, the master healer is well-respected.

A soft gasp makes Diane turn. Alder is staring at the young princess, mouth slightly open, oblivious to all others. And she keeps looking his way too, a rosy blush on her cheeks and a small smile on her lips. Diane smiles as she watches them, wondering if prophecies have an expiry date. If not, there might be an enthusiastic and loving joining of ‘beast and crown’ in a couple of years. She’s so engulfed in the budding romance playing out in front of her that she misses the fact that the audience is over, and people are slowly emptying the room.

“Come, child.” Tenna places a hand on Diane’s shoulder, breaking her thoughts. “The two of us will be sharing quarters. And as luck has it, we won’t be far from the library."

“Oh, that’s great. I guess we’ll keep busy.”

“As always.”

*

The royal library is a surprisingly bright and sunny room. The walls are covered with shelves, floor to ceiling, and additional shelves create neat rows and nooks where small desks and puffy armchairs invite quiet reading or study time.

Since Aster is constantly busy with his duties as Champion and reluctant Prince Consort, and Tenna only slightly so, Diane is spending a lot of time with Alder. And since he immediately hit it off with Crown Prince Kaelen and his younger sister, she often finds herself in their company too. They are just as sweet and fun as her first impression of them, and they have enthusiastically joined her search for information. Kaelen slams a couple of books down on their table, earning them some icy glares as well as shushing from the head librarian.

“Here we are. I can’t believe this stuff actually turned out to be useful.” He looks astonished at the thought. “After the present prophecy was announced, my tutors made me read a lot about the previous champions.”

“Does it say where they come from? What they did here? If they all succeeded in their task? And…” Diane bites her lip. “...how did they go back home?”

“Well, from what I remember, most of the Chosen succeeded, having great adventures and then staying here, often living together with the champion that found them. There are mentions of some that died, but none of them left our world.”

“Oh.” Some died… some failed… none left… The cold lump in her stomach tightens its grip. Some things are definitely better read in adventure stories, rather than living them firsthand.

“My favorite story is the one about champion Gael and his chosen Lucas,” Mirelle exclaims. “They were both great warriors, saving the kingdom when a species of sea creatures attacked all the coastal settlements.” She sighs happily, looking at Diane with dreamy eyes. “There are pictures in one of the books, and they were so brave and handsome.” She starts leafing through one of the volumes.

“That’s the most famous one,” Kaelen agrees. “They were rewarded an island of their own, living happily ever after while still keeping a watchful eye on the sea.”

“Here they are,” Mirelle holds the book up, and Diane stares at the painted image of two young men: both in chainmail armor, one holding a great sword, the other a tall staff with a glowing jewel on top. With their arms around each other’s shoulders, they look happy, competent, close. Having a special bond and living happily ever after. Together. Like a proper fairytale happy ending.

“I can see why you like them,” Diane smiles, but Alder gives the image a surprisingly hostile look, causing her smile to widen.

“Here. I’m sure you’ll love them as much as I do,” the young princess enthusiastically shoves the book into Diane’s hands before getting up. “Unfortunately, I have duties to attend to,” she sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” She addresses the question to Diane, though her eyes move to Alder, who leaps to his feet.

“Allow me to escort you.”

The princess gracefully accepts, both of their cheeks rosy as they leave together.

“Those two seem to have taken a liking to each other,” Diane says, leafing through the book, skimming through the tale of the great heroes slaying incredibly strong, cartoonish monsters.

“They do. It seems Alder has better taste in princesses than his brother.” Kaelen laughs, then sighs. “Though to be fair, Aster doesn’t really have a choice. Nor does my elder sister.”

“She sure seems to make the most of it.” Diane’s voice is sharper than she intended, and Kaelen nods.

“Aurelia is used to getting what she wants.”

“I can imagine. Though she doesn’t seem to like him, or care for him, at all.”

“Yeah. She doesn’t want to miss out. Being part of the Prophecy is a big deal. Bigger than ‘just’ being a princess. She loves all the extra attention. And the dresses, and the fuss.” He groans and shakes his head. “At least this will give her a young and fairly handsome husband, on top of the added status.” Fairly handsome?

“I suppose she’s got many disappointed suitors? She’s very beautiful, after all.”

He snorts as disdainfully as only a younger sibling can. “And she knows it. She’s been using it to get her way and blame stuff on others since she was like, ten or so.” He makes a disgusted face, then sighs. “I know what living with her is like, and I like Aster, so I feel a bit bad for him.”

“Yeah, you and me both. Is there any chance we can get the mystics to, I don’t know… reinterpret the prophecy?"

He thinks about it, then shakes his head.

“I doubt it. They’re very stubborn, and that would force them to admit they were wrong. I think they’d rather set themselves on fire.”

Diane sighs. Religious fanatics? Just what she needs.

“But, since you’re the Chosen and all that, they might listen to you,” he says optimistically. “One of them is my tutor in history, so you can join my next class and try to talk to him, if you don't want to wait for a formal meeting. He’s not all that bad, as far as the mystics go.”

“That’s a great idea, thank you.”

*

Damned, dumb, stupid… mystics. Diane emphasizes each word by letting an arrow fly to the practice target on the other side of the field. At least there’s one skill she’s improving at.

Her meeting with Kaelen’s history teacher had gone about as badly as it could. The man had gone from being all starry-eyed, calling her 'Holy Chosen One' – while she tried not to sink through the floor in embarrassment – to being politely cold and tight-lipped. At first, he’d gladly answered her questions about the prophecy and how they interpreted it. At least as long as she seemed to agree with what he said.

‘Yes, Aster is the only male Arakiba of a suitable age who shifts into a beastlike shape, and when he was marked by the curse, there could be no doubt. He's also the main heir, descending straight from the bloodline of the first Arakiba shifter. Yes, they had made the correct interpretation. No, there can be no doubts.’

Diane had pressed him on what other candidates had been considered, both as the Champion, but especially for the fated marriage, only to be met by ramblings about ‘the wisdom of the ancients and their spokesmen, the Order of the Mystics’. Somehow succeeding to neither strangle the man, nor roll her eyes too noticably, she had then asked the fatal question:

“What if a part of the prophecy is left unfulfilled? What happens then?”

His eyes widened, hands pressed to his chest in shock.

“Blasphemy,” he had gasped before storming off, muttering, arms waving in the air, probably wishing they’d never brought this particular Chosen to this world.

Damned, dumb… mystics. Three more arrows hit the target and she reaches for another when soft steps approach. Aster.

“Hey. I didn’t think I’d get to see you today. I’m glad you got away.”

“Me too.” He drags his fingers through his hair and looks closely at her. “Who upset you? Aurelia?”

“No. Your precious mystics.”

“Ah, yes. They can be… stubborn. Always being right does things to their minds, and not in a good way.”

“I refuse to believe that they’re right about this.”

“Trust me. Nobody will be happier than me if that’s the case. But the fact is that they’ve never been wrong. Every line of every prophecy recorded has been fulfilled. Unless those involved died trying.”

“How very fatalistic of you,” Diane snorts, unfairly taking out some of her anger on him, and he holds up his hands in mock fear. Smiling.

“At least we may get some respite.” He smoothly changes the subject. “The king has sent messengers to Kagemure, asking for a meeting. Hoping that diplomacy can stop the war, if they’re willing to tell us what wrong they’re trying to right.”

“That’s something.” It won’t solve the marriage issue, but if it can prevent bloodshed, it’s a blessing. Though from what she saw, she doubts the Mokushi will be open to logic and reasoning.

“How’s your practice going? Any news on your new spells? Especially the Dark ones?”

“Not really. I can make out two spell names, but they don’t respond, and I have no idea what they’re supposed to do.”

“But you will. When the time is right.” He sounds so confident, briefly placing a hand on her shoulder. “Just think of how long it took for me to figure mine out. And I still can’t do it at will.”

“That’s really not all that comforting, you know.”

Neither are the ominous spell-names: Black Mercy and Soul Siphon. The Dark Spells, as Aster had dramatically named them, remain a mystery. Since she suspects they stem from the still blackened corner of her soulbook, it’s perhaps better if they remain silent.

“There must be some condition tied to them that has not yet been fulfilled. Worrying isn’t going to change that. You need to have faith.”

She scowls at him, reluctantly admitting that he’s right. Better to focus on other things. Things she can make work.

“I don’t believe in faith. Or fate. I believe in hard work.”

“I still have faith in you,” he says as if it’s the most natural and obvious thing in the world. No sighing, not even an eyeroll, just confidence. “Show me the result of your hard work then.”

“Okay, so, I’ve been focusing on an idea for healing at a distance, but it still needs more work.”

He nods, watching closely as Diane lets mana pour out through her fingers. Molding it for its new purpose. She looks at the blue fireball obediently hovering over her palm. So far, so good.

“Hey, you finally learned how to do that.”

Diane scowls at him, then aims for a tree not that far away and throws the ball as hard as she can. It doesn’t even make it halfway, rolling a bit on the ground before dissolving in a pathetic, undramatic way. Diane swears. The theory is sound, it should work, if only…

“There’s no way I’ll be able to throw these things far enough or accurately enough to make a difference.”

“Then don’t.”

“What? I need to…”

He smirks, nods to her bow.

“You have that. It should give you all the range and accuracy you need.”

Wait, what? What does he think she can…

Oh… now that's an idea...