Chapter 2

  Bernyce made her way through a sea of well-dressed attendees to exit the grand palace’s foyer. She scaled the carpeted marble staircase in front of her, which led to the Palace’s front entrance, exiting out of two large, dark wood doors. She came out to the palace’s portico veering to the right to avoid the incoming crowds of fashionably late attendees.

  Bernyce passed by six massive marble columns that stood at the precipice of the portico’s foundation, meeting the edge of the foundation to lower her legs and sit. She reached into her coat pocket to pull out a cigarette, striking a match to light it. She took a breath of the smoke, feeling her choked lungs naturally resist the smoke, quickly exhaling the cloud of smoke into the evening air.

  The capital city around her glowed with light, making the sea of darkness above her feel much less imposing. Several carriages passed by on the wide avenue ahead, as well as a few steam-driven automobiles. She looked over to the far right, catching sight of a row of massive triband banners straddling the fa?ade of the palace’s south wing, an imposing tower in one corner of the palace’s extent standing high above her, proudly donning another flag.

  She returned her gaze to the street in front of the palace, beyond a towering wrought-iron fence to see a man waving at her, a familiar face, Oscar. She took another breath of smoke before climbing back up onto the portico’s foundation, aiming for the staircase that lead down to the ground.

  Bernyce made her way past topiary and bushes of the palace’s front gardens, thick collections of red and white tulips arranged to mimic the Asphydyyl flag, as well as well-manicured branched asphodels, a precious member of the palace’s gardens, given the empire’s namesake. She trotted along a gravel path interwoven into the garden, leading up to the fence. She approached her friend, a young man with dark skin and a shaved head.

  “Aye, Bernyce! How’s it going?” Oscar greeted with a gravelly voice,

  “Not too rough, I’m still here. I managed to speak to the princess and I’ve got a meeting arranged, not for three hours still, though.”

  “That’s perfect, right before the presses start up. Just remember, come in the back door.”

  “The one in that courtyard by the loading dock?” Bernyce asked with a sarcastically piqued tone,

  “No, no. That one down Leiten Street, behind the offices.” Oscar clarified, his voice progressively becoming smoother with a few coughs. “I’ll leave a block of wood in the door or something, just don’t talk to anyone and come straight to my office, alright?” Oscar put stress on every word.

  Bernyce rolled her eyes, laughing, “I’ve got it.”

  “Alright.” Oscar said smirking, his eyes moving to his right to look down the road at the Palace’s front gate, “Well. I would say I’d stick around but, honestly, I really don’t want to, plus these guards keep staring at me.”

  “I wonder why…You’re a gleaming example of the model citizen.” Bernyce said sarcastically, taking another breath from her cigarette.

  “I take offense to that.” Oscar replied, “Aye, listen, if you can get an interview with ‘His Royal Majesty’ – ”

  Bernyce cut him off, “Not likely, I’m lucky the princess is na?ve enough to let me interview her, I’d probably get hanged for insulting His Majesty with my presence.”

  “Imagine the headlines though?” Oscar countered.

  “My head for a headline? Mm, although enticing I think I’m going to have to pass up that offer.” Bernyce said, taking another puff from her cigarette.

  “Haha, alright. Well, make us proud and get some dirt on our perfect princess.” Oscar replied.

  “Will do, see you later.” Bernyce said.

  Oscar gave Bernyce an ironic salute before turning around to amble down the sidewalk.

  Bernyce turned around to, briefly, take in the full extent of the palace before her. To her, it stood as a monument to opulence and oppression. The monster of a building was flanked on the corners of both sides by large five-story towers only slightly taller than the main wings. The six columns of the portico marked the center face of it, and further back stood a dominating tower whose height rivaled most buildings in the modern day, except for the truly massive Imperial Aerodrome, a towering port for military airships in the eastern extent of the Imperial City of Canton.

  The palace was clad in white marble and gray stone bricks, windows covering every space on the two main wings, divided into sections by marble pillars. The roof was topped with green copper sheets interleaved by white stone ribs.

  She curled her nose in disgust and took one more puff from her cigarette before pushing herself off the iron fence. She licked the tips of her thumb and index finger and squeezed the end of her cigarette, extinguishing it, flicking the remainder of it into the bushes before heading back towards the palace.

  Bernyce scaled back up the staircase alongside a dapper man, dressed in an understated black suit and top hat, with a well-groomed handlebar moustache and beard that protruded straight out of his chin for a few inches. He held a cane in his left hand and a young orange haired mistress on his right arm, the lone blue stripe of the flag of Elysium adorned the metal pin on his lapel. An Elysian ambassador perhaps, her blood rushed at the thought, the opportunity. As they reached the staircase landing, Bernyce reached out her hand to grab the Elysian man’s shoulder, making sure to be gentle.

  “Excuse me sir? Could I trouble you for a minute?” Bernyce said.

  The man turned around with an affronted reaction to Bernyce’s introduction. He gave a disgruntled look to his consort, before saying in as polite of a tone as he could manage, “What can I help you with?”

  “My name is Bernyce Allencía. I’m a reporter with the Canton Free Press Association. I’m covering the princess’s party, but alas, you have come along to catch my attention. You’re Elysian, no?”

  “Yes, I am, but I really don’t have anything to add to this event I’m afraid, young miss.”

  “Oh, but you do. See, I’m an opportunist, and as it happens an Elysian national, I was born in West Satthan and when I saw the flag on your lapel, I knew I could have an interesting story on my hand. I know a good lead when I see one, and sir if you don’t mind I’d just like to ask you a few questions.”

  He bobbed his head with discernable annoyance, saying, “Yes, very well.”

  “Excellent!” Bernyce drew her notepad and ink pen, “First of all I’d like to note your business in the capital. Do you work at the embassy?”

  “I do.”

  “An ambassador then?”

  “Clarence Dermot, Secretary of Communications.”

  “Oh, very intriguing. Let me ask you Mr. Dermot, have you noticed any odd communications as of late? Anything you’d consider worrying?” Bernyce asked.

  “I shouldn’t think so, what exactly are you reporting on Miss…?”

  “Allencía, and nothing specific, I’m just always on the lookout for interesting stories.”

  “Right…Well what I can tell you is that communications have been very regular, what with the World’s Fair we’ve mainly been receiving commercial telegraphs, requests for information of the exhibition.”

  “Mm, mhmm.” Bernyce wrote misplaced quotes, partial lyrics to folk songs, anything brought to her mind as she pretended to note his comments. She looked back up to him with a somber expression, saying, “What happened in Rilyn?”

  The Secretary's face turned harsh as he furrowed his eyebrows.

  “I beg your pardon? What’s going on where?” he blurted out impetuously,

  “Rilyn City sir, I’ve heard reports that the Elysium Empire had an agent killed in Rilyn city.” Bernyce persisted.

  Mr. Dermot straightened his coat, his face flushed with easily identifiable concern.

  “I’m an attaché to the Elysian ambassador Miss Allencía, not an intelligence minister. I would know nothing of spies or agents, least of all any whom had died. Now if you do not mind I have had quite enough of this. It’s bloody chilly out here and I don’t much care for your questions young lady. Good evening.”

  “Pardon me sir, have a good night.”

  Bernyce sighed; though slightly upset no real information could be attained, at least now thanks to a successful psychological extortion she could be confident that Asphydyyl and Elysium had a conflict of interest in Rilyn as reports suggested, a conflict surely reported back to the Elysian capital through their embassy.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Bernyce stood motionless on the windswept portico for a few seconds, jotting down a few notes before reentering the warmth of the palace.

  The evening had gone by slowly at first, a lavish multicourse feast in the palace’s grand Central Dining Hall followed by an hour of elaborate dancing in the Southern Ballroom, the guests had now made their way back to the foyer to await a precession of gifts for the young princess. As Amelia began to ease into the celebrations she found her niche among Christopher’s colleagues, soldiers of various ranks who attended his cadet school and who shared his unit in the Kingdom Defense Army, she found solace in an otherwise unpleasant evening and hid herself away from the rest of the party’s attendees.

  The conversations went on, going from the daily happenings, national and world news, to jokes and anecdotes, tales of past adventures and misadventures, Amelia’s mind had managed to disconnect. Amongst the merriment she found herself in a state of longing, a desperate desire for the lives lived by the people around her, not tied down by any convictions or birthright duties. Before she could allow herself to be consumed too far she looked up at the longcase clock in front of her. The time read 9:44; only a short while before her and Bernyce’s meeting. She saw this as her opportunity to sneak away for a moment.

  “Christopher, I’m going to go get some air, clear my head before meeting with the reporter.”

  “Of course my love.” Christopher said with a smile.

  “I’ll meet you back here later.”

  Amelia departed and made her way across the foyer to exit into a courtyard, encircled by the towering walls of the palace's southern wing. She passed the threshold of the foyer and found herself in the cool spring evening. Above her, the palace’s central tower stood ominously and a field of stars partially dimmed by the city lights.

  Amelia's gaze traced a path of stars down to the walls of the courtyard, and then further down to the ground to see a stone bench. Amelia began to walk towards it slowly, swaying her arms. She took a deep breath and grabbed her shoulders, beginning to knead her neck, relieving some of the tension in her muscles. Amelia turned her gaze to the left and noticed a petite young woman walking towards her, Oenna.

  “Fancy seeing you here.” Oenna said.

  Amelia lowered her gaze bashfully, saying, “I’m sorry I’m late, I lost track of time.”

  “That’s alright.” Oenna replied.

  Amelia smiled and began to walk towards her with a quickened pace. Oenna dashed towards Amelia, colliding softly with her and meeting with a heavy embrace. Amelia laughed and wrapped her arms around Oenna’s thin waist, breathing in the scent of her proletariat perfume, clenching her eyes shut hoping to savor this moment completely. Amelia let go of Oenna’s body slightly, her hands moving down to her hips.

  She glanced around the courtyard, confirming that no one else was present. She looked back to Oenna to see her watching with loving intent, an excited smirk spreading across her face.

  With their arms still wrapped around one another, Amelia began to lean her head towards Oenna’s with a slight tilt. Oenna reciprocated and they kissed. Their lips separated as they paused briefly, before kissing once more. Amelia pushed herself onto Oenna in a vain attempt to, somehow, enjoy this moment more before disengaging.

  Oenna only slightly lessened her grip before totally releasing her. Their faces’ lingered next to each other briefly as they stared into one another’s eyes. Amelia broke eye contact, bashfully fluttered her eyelashes, lowering her gaze as she backed away. They stood quiet and motionless for a few moments.

  “Happy Birthday, again.” Oenna said, breaking the silence.

  “Thank you. This alone has made the night so much more memorable.” Amelia replied.

  “I’m glad to have helped.” Oenna preened her hair while smiling widely, “We haven’t kissed in so long, I almost forgot what it was like…but it’s just as I remembered, perfect.”

  Amelia took a seat on the bench, inviting Oenna to sit with a swayed arm. Oenna joined her and interlocked her arm with Amelia’s, tilting her head to rest on Amelia’s shoulder.

  A brief moment of silence followed, interrupted by Oenna letting out a small sigh, saying, “I wish there was some way…”

  “I know.” Amelia said gripping Oenna’s hand,

  Amelia adjusted her position to be sitting closer to Oenna. She draped her arm over Oenna’s shoulders.

  “It’s alright.” Amelia said in an attempt to comfort Oenna.

  Amelia began to ponder her actions, automatically justifying her transgressions, despite a slew of internal scoldings. It was nothing more than a kiss, and a kiss among friends is hardly adultery. Still, she tried exceptionally hard to come to terms with, what in her mind, was a betrayal of trust, even if ever so minor.

  Amelia and Oenna remained motionless on the stone bench, savoring each other’s company, no discussion or need to speak, simply the two being with one another. That reassurance that sits with you, regardless of if you can recognize it. To Amelia, it felt like freedom, a freedom from her anxieties and the freedom to be herself without reservations, something that she failed to find in anyone else.

  “When Christopher and I come back from the Fane tomorrow, you and I will have the day together.” Amelia said.

  “Do you promise?” Oenna asked.

  “Of course.” Amelia said softly, tightening her hold on Oenna, “Christopher will be gone for lunch at the Ministry of Defense, we won’t be interrupted. Meet me in the sunroom at the top of the tower.”

  Before she could even realize it, the clock from the nearby Royal Strand Palace began chiming her familiar tune, alerting everyone that the hour had passed. Amelia sighed, unwrapping her arms from Oenna.

  “I need to go now.” Amelia said standing up.

  Oenna nodded her head in approval. “Alright. I love you Amelia.”

  They hugged once more before parting. Amelia gave Oenna one last smile before turning around to head back into the palace.

  Amelia reentered the bright, wide-open space of the Palace’s foyer, ambient music lofting through the room, guests chatting amongst themselves, laughing and smiling.

  As Amelia passed, some turned to her, giving her a smile and a quick nod, one middle-aged woman wearing a bright golden-yellow gown even gave her a full curtsey. This laid some of her anxiety to rest; surely, none of them saw her and Oenna, definitely not.

  Amelia arrived at the bottom of the winding staircase where she met Bernyce just hours before, spotting the rough brown leather coat through the bannister. She walked over into Bernyce’s view. Bernyce’s arms were crossed, a notepad and pen held in her hand, obviously eager to start the interview.

  Bernyce looked over and noticed Amelia, saying, “Mrs. Tragen!”

  She took a step forward and held out her hand, which Amelia then took to shake delicately.

  “Shall we sit?” Bernyce asked, motioning towards a collection of variously sized vacant couches, all arranged to face each other.

  “Of course, after you.” Amelia replied.

  Bernyce smiled, straightened her stance, and began walking over to a chair on the far side of the formation. She walked in a manner that was crudely reminiscent of the aristocracy that surrounded her, no doubt in an attempt to mock them.

  Amelia started towards a couch on the left. Amelia glided her hands along her backside to flatten her crinolette before sitting. In contrast, Bernyce quickly plopped down into the chair, reclining back, earning a quick scowl from a woman who stood behind her. Bernyce flipped open her notebook and readied her pen, beginning by marking the notepad, most likely correcting a mistake or jotting down a quick memorandum. She sat up in her chair, placing her elbows just above her knees and looked to Amelia.

  Bernyce began, “So, Mrs. Tragen, let’s start.”

  Amelia nodded.

  “May I first start by saying Happy Birthday.”

  Amelia grinned, “Thank you for the consideration.”

  “Think nothing of it.” Bernyce replied, “Now let’s get straight into it. With the world’s fair coming up, I’d like to ask what you think of the increased rumors that the World’s Fair is just an exercise of military might, or a power play between the empires.”

  Amelia thought for a brief second, before saying, “Well, this is honestly the first I’m hearing of the fair postured in such a manner, but I think there could be some credence to them. Not a ‘power play’ as much as a demonstration of our empires’ economic power and industrial innovation. It’s a perfectly friendly way to spark competition.”

  “Would the War Museum the emperor constructed be considered ‘a friendly way to spark competition’?” Bernyce retorted.

  “My father constructed the War Museum to honor all those who have died honorably for the good of the empire. After he heard about the slaughter of an entire legion at the hands of Penthoūs natives and seeing a disregard for our historical heroes, he simply couldn’t let their sacrifice remain unheard.”

  “They display weapons; that does not honor the dead, that glorifies war.” Bernyce changed her tone, “That’s simply my opinion, though.”

  Amelia breathed in deeply before retorting, “The public seems to be quite interested in how wars are waged, how they're won, and how they're being protected by their government. Rates of conflict have been reduced dramatically since my father became emperor, and so most men never see fighting, let alone a war. We haven’t been at war for nearly twenty years, and even then, that was only one war against an oppressive dictator that broke a previous twenty year stride of peace. It’s my opinion that forty years of peace is worth celebrating.”

  “Yes, well besides the colonial surrogate wars fought with Elysium, right?”

  Amelia scoffed, looking down at the rug below her. She raised her view up to meet Bernyce, who was waiting patiently for an answer.

  “The politics surrounding the colonies are far too complex for me to discuss in a single sitting.” Amelia said in an attempt to deflect the question.

  Bernyce submitted to the answer, “Alright. On the subject of foreign affairs, can I ask you your opinion on what happened in Rilyn City last night?”

  Amelia’s eyes darted around the room briefly, coming back to meet Bernyce’s with a strained expression.

  Amelia said, “I’m sorry, I…I’m not quite sure I understand what you’re referring to, more recent news doesn't usually come to me until the week's end.”

  Bernyce forced a tired smile, “No one seems to know.” She explained, “Yesterday, an Elysian spy was murdered. Some people claim he was killed by a Firefly, an agent of Chancellor Irasc of Rilyn, and others say he was killed by an Imperial man, or at the very least, they say Asphydyyl ordered his death.”

  Amelia cocked her head, surprised by Bernyce’s claims.

  “I’m sorry Ms. Allencía, but I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Bernyce gave a frustrated expression, adjusting in her seat.

  “Don’t you think it’s odd,” Bernyce started, “A journalist for a niche magazine is more knowledgeable about current affairs than you, the princess, heir to the throne? How can the people of Asphydyyl be confident that you’re prepared to take on the challenges of being empress?”

  Amelia was stunned by the criticism. She considered what to say next, her heart beat picking up as she became aware of her potential mistake.

  Amelia started, “I would say to my people, that I’m being fully prepared by the best tutors on matters of the state and governance, so much so that I’m not always able to keep up with current events.”

  “Perhaps you should take less leisure time for yourself, or involve yourself less in theory and philosophy so you can remain wise with the happenings of the world.” Bernyce rebutted.

  Amelia’s calm disposition went quickly at Bernyce’s insult. She replied in a shocked tone, “Miss Allencía, I agreed to this meeting out of courtesy and respect for the press, took time away from my birthday celebration to speak to you, and you insult me? Insinuate that I’m unprepared to rule? I do not appreciate your baseless attacks! I want you to – ”

  Her scolding was cut short by a firm hand to her shoulder. She swung her head around to see her father, grinning widely at Bernyce. He looked down to Amelia, his gray beard being bent out of shape after colliding with his chest.

  “My dear, your gifts will be presented in a few minutes.” He looked back to Bernyce, saying “Excuse me madam, I’ll have to steal Amelia away from you.”

  Bernyce stood up quickly, “Yes, of course Your Majesty.” Her stare returned to Amelia, “And thank you for your time, Your Highness. I’ll be on my way now.”

  Bernyce bowed slightly before walking away, passing behind the couch Amelia was still sat on.

  “She seemed like a nice girl.” Amelia’s father commented sarcastically, turning his tone darker, “Who was that?”

  Amelia peered through the crowd, watching Bernyce blend into the sea of people.

  “Not a nice girl at all.” Amelia replied.