Chapter II

The Royal Palace was a pretty picture, a callback to the days of yore splashed with a sprinkle of the present years. Secluded, as it were, from the common folk as both a measure of security and exclusivity. In other words, they didn't just let anybody in there. The Royal Guardsmen at the gates halted everyone to check their credentials, even if they knew the person by sight. Konrad never it took it personally; in fact, he respected their thoroughness and discipline.

Fortunately, Konrad and Rake were among the privileged permitted to wander the gilded and marble halls of this great estate, though there were many of the high-born who'd rather it not be so. Respected as he was, Konrad was a sullied tradesman low and unclean in the eyes of polite society. But he was a favorite of the Prince-Regent and even the most tenderfooted cockwaffle knew when to toe the line and keep his mouth shut about his personal reservations.

It was never a straight shot to see His Royal Highness. Nope, there was a process and it was adhered to with fanatical devotion. Etiquette and appearances were everything in this den of snakes where one wrong move might not get you killed bodily, but it would kill you socially.

Konrad, with Rake in tow, passed through a number of rooms. First, the Guard Room, that was militaristic and not all stylish but grounded in practicality. Then, the Antechamber, that was well furnished and posh on the surface—felt cushions and all—but had a deliberate air of ‘you are being watched’. Then the Privy Chamber within which hung a painting of King Elric II.

Konrad looked up in silent reflection as he waited for the Chamberlain to inform the Prince-Regent of his presence. Elric was, of course, the Prince-Regent's mad father. Some years back he went cracked in the head and ran amok in a rage that saw him murder his own wife and three of his eldest sons. The whole ordeal was a shock to the kingdom, and Congress was quick to pass a resolution to have the king committed and his last remaining son appointed as Regent. He remains King in name only and once the cracked bastard gives up the ghost, the Prince-Regent will wear the crown.

The door to the Audience Chamber opened and the Chamberlain waved them in.

His Royal Highness, Prince Gideon, was a courtly creature. An articulate, poised and rather effeminate young man. He wore his curled raven hair long and untamed, his eyes bore a bright, inquisitive teal. His skin was pale and soft like new-fallen snow and he lit up when Konrad and Rake entered the room, dismissing his uh...ahem, 'fellow bachelors' who were gone at the flick of his wrist.

He didn't move but rather floated towards Konrad, who bowed his head in deference to his liege. The height difference between them was stark but the Prince didn't seem to mind looking up at the burly headsman with blinking eyes. Konrad always felt underdressed around him, as the Prince seemed to enjoy the silk varieties of courtly dress, that of pastel colored suits, pantaloons and stockings and gold-buckled shoes. Polar opposite to Konrad’s dark, conservative and utilitarian wardrobe.

"Master Konrad, so good to see you," Gideon greeted. "Sit, please."

There were two chairs by the fireplace on the east end of the room adorned in a sort of rosy-pink scheme. Observing the order of precedence Konrad waited for the Prince to be seated before he sat down himself. Rake was content to lean in a shadowy corner, doing his best not to oggle the pretty maid servant that entered to set down a tray of tea. Her gaze lingered a little longer than usual on the brooding headsman before her, a faint flicker of interest in her eyes. Gideon waved her away politely.

"I suppose we should get right down to business then," Gideon sighed aloud, dropping a few sugar cubes into his cup. "Know you the happenings in Nordemar?"

Konrad did not partake in the tea, he wasn't fond of it. "Yes, Your Highness."

Gideon took a sip, smacking his lips before reaching for another cube, "Dreadful sort of business and it appears to be getting worse by the day. The Count of Nordemar is a good friend of mine you see, he sends me regular reports."

Taking another sip, Gideon smiled satisfied that the beverage was now to his liking. "Which brings me to why you are here.”

Gideon gestured with his cup towards a document that lay on the tray between them. Konrad retrieved and looked it over.

"A warrant," Gideon explained. "For you to conduct your business on my behalf as an agent of the crown. Count Lucien will be expecting you though I caution you Master Mydlar—"

A warm yet sly smile parted the Prince's lips, "—he will not be as fond of you as I am."

"I am grateful for your patronage, Your Highness."

Gideon giggled at Konrad's deflection, his soft and musical voice an auditory ballet. They sat in silence for a while as the Prince drank his tea, which he did with practiced grace and precision.

Konrad knew that many—a great deal many—underestimated the Prince-Regent. But Konrad could see it in Gideon's eyes a killer instinct only another predator could recognize. For anyone with half a brain, it was plain to see that under the Prince-Regent's rule the kingdom had stabilized and was on the up-and-up, especially following his father's disastrous reign. The young Prince quite literally snatched the kingdom out of the jaws of ruin and re-established her preeminence on the continental stage. Still, one never rids themselves fully of detractors. Just a fact of life.

Gideon set down his tea and rested his folded hands on his lap.

“The Count has always been a loyal supporter of my family and I would see him rewarded for this service by giving him my full support in kind.”

He leaned into the side on the armrest of his chair, an index finger tracing a line along his cheek as he crossed his legs.

“By extension you will as well?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Konrad knew that wasn’t a question, but the Prince favoured the carrot first before the stick. Soft power to give a man dignity when you go ordering him around.

"Stop by my Factor's office and he will grant you the monies required for your expenses. Put an end to this madness in Nordemar, Master Mydlar."

Konrad rose from his chair. "Very well, Your Highness. Is there anything else?"

"No," he said finally, after his eyes danced up and down Konrad's frame. "No, that will be all...for now."

As soon as they left and Rake was confident he was out of earshot, he whispered to Konrad.

"Golly, you want to go to the Factor and I’ll get busy packing?"

"Yeah,” he breathed. “Make sure you bring a good arsenal.”

Konrad narrowed his eyes.

“I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”