Crown Prince Quest

It is a cold wind that greets you when you exit the carriage, the footman in his formal red and greens closing the door behind you, securing it against the buffeting that whips the tails of his coat and flips at the ties on your jacket. The sun had been shining when you had gotten onto the train that morning, lighting up a glorious day in the country. But here it hid behind the ever present clouds heavy with rain, dusted black with the soot and the smog of the factories. Returning to the city felt like all the color was being drained from the world. A fitting visual metaphor for how you felt emotionally.

You look away from the sky and take in the people standing in front of you. Two rows of servants standing ready to greet you and do your bidding. A small unit of the household guard standing at attention. And at the very end of the small courtyard, your family.

Your sister was wearing what was possibly the most garish dress you had ever seen. It was made of some sort of almost reflective fabric, cut just high enough in the chest to be proper, but left her arms completely bare, despite the weather. It was also a brilliant pink. She could probably pull double duty as a lighthouse's reflector in a storm. Her dress was almost as bright as the smile on her face. It was likely that she would have rushed to hug you, decorum be damned, if not for the restraining hand of your mother on her shoulder.

She looked older than when you had last seen her. Per tradition, women were not allowed to step foot on the grounds of the Royal Military Academy Sonning, no matter how high her station. And since you had not returned in over a year, that was how long you had not seen her. The warmth in your heart proves that letters are a poor substitute. But you would not have sacrificed any of the moments it would have taken to return home to see her.

But if she looked older, it was perhaps only in comparison to your father. Six months ago he had inspected the academy, and if not for the change in clothes you would think it were that same day. His hair was the same length, his beard as neatly trimmed, and he even had the same lack of emotion he had worn as long as you could remember. Even the cane at his side was the same. Glossy black wood with a silvery head. A gift from the king of a country you could never remember.

Your feet carried you unconsciously to them, and you stop before your father. The other two seem to shrink back in his presence, and the servants and soldiers fade entirely from your focus. He always had that effect on people, a sense of being larger than life. He studied you up close for a few seconds, and you resisted the urge to squirm. You were seventeen years old now, a man. You would not squirm.

He looked you in the eyes, and a flicker of warmth seemed to melt the ice in them. He held his hand out to you, and you took it. His grip was firm as he shook your hand. "Congratulations on your graduation, son."

A flare of warm pride surged through at his words. Praise from him was rare, and you could tell from the look in his eyes that he was proud of you.

"Thank you sir."

Then his hand was gone, and he was turning away from you, striding back into the building. A coterie of advisers and servants swarmed around him. No doubt he had a lot of important work to do. You were used to it. But it still doused the warmth in you to see his back get smaller in the distance.

Then he turned the corner and Arthur IV, King of the Albian Union and Emperor of the greatest empire ever known, was gone. Behind you, the sound of horseshoes on cobblestones heralded the carriage leaving. It threatened to rain, and no one wanted something as expensive as a Royal Carriage getting wet. Likely, the servants would be returning to their duties, and the soldiers to their posts. But you couldn't wrench your eyes from the corner your father had vanished behind.

Six months, no letters, and only a single word in greeting.

How typical.

You felt a hand on your arm, like a warm brand against the chill you had felt ever since you had returned to this damn city. Your sister was still smiling at you, though that smile seemed brittle now.

"He'll see you again at dinner. He just has a lot of important work to get on with. You know how it is. Now, come on. Your bags arrived hours ago, since they didn't have to travel in that slow old carriage, and they've been taken to your room. I'll show you where that is, since you've no doubt forgotten."

You raise an eyebrow at her. It's been a long time since you've seen her too, but you find the banter return easily to you, as if you were never gone. "Mary, I think you'll find I am still perfectly capable of finding the way to my own room. I did live there for fifteen years after all."

"Yes, but that was before you went off and became a soldier. Everyone knows soldiers only know how to salute and fire guns. No doubt you've forgotten everything else at the academy. My friend Sarah, you remember Sarah Marshall?" "No-" "My friend Sarah, she was telling me about her brother Rupert. He went off to that academy of yours, and when he came back he could only say Yes Ma'am and Yes Sir. She figures it has to have been some sort of brainwashing, like in that novel that came out a few years ago. Now I told her that my brother wasn't like that, and she said that-"

She was trying to distract you. She was your sister, and she was annoying, so she did so by impugning the last two years of your life, but it was so familiar you were willing to overlook the deep insult. At least for today.


The windows are already open when you return to your rooms. No doubt left open by whoever had gotten this place ready for your arrival, when the sky had still been clear and rain a distant concern. The first thing you did was cross to them and close them, cutting off the cold wind and dropping the room into silence.

Your sister wandered over to your bed and sat upon it, creasing the precise folds in the deep blue duvet cover. Her babbling had lasted all the way through the palace to your rooms, and now it seems she had run out of things to say. You idly noted your bags had been unpacked, and someone had taken the time to place fresh cut flowers in a vase on your desk. Gardenias. Your favorite.

"So..." Your sister was looking around the room, clearly fishing for something to talk about. Eventually she settled on the unpacked travel case in the corner. "Glad to be back?"

Behind you, a strong gust of wind rattled the window in its ancient fittings. "'Course I am. Even if it means I have to put up with you again sis."

She threw back her head and laughed. She had always had a beautiful laugh, strong and clear. She settled back down after a few moments. "And I missed you too, big brother." Always the emphasis of the age with her, as if she didn't think the minute between your births wasn't the best thing that ever happened to her or anyone else. "Now you just need to go away so I can go back to missing you. I think I like you best when I am only left with fond, distant memories."

You snorted at that. Distant memories. Your sister had sent you so many letters she had probably personally deforested the nation. She had demanded information on every little thing you'd done. She could probably remember your education better than you could.

"So, what's next for you soldier boy?"

You wandered over to sit next to her, dropping down on the bed to make her bounce and tip over while you considered his answer. "Well. Normally I'd be given my assignment. Attached to a regiment and shipped off somewhere to serve King and Country."

"But?"

"But one day I'm going to be that King, so things are a little different. Can't exactly ship the heir to the throne off to some god forsaken hole somewhere in the colonies. He might get shot, and then where would everyone be?"

"Well, I don't know about everyone, but I believe I would be Crown Princess. So, instead of that lucky eventuality, what happens?"

"I'll probably officially be attached to some ceremonial unit and spend my time inspecting parades and listening to old men talk about the importance of making sure this crate of guns reach that colony or other. It'll be dreadfully boring honestly."

"Sounds it. So is that what's going to happen to your friend. What's his name? Forester?"

You feel your heart constrict in your chest, your body flush with ice water. Your face doesn't even twitch. You have had practice hiding your reactions. "Foster. Henry Foster."

"Yes, him. What's he going to be doing?"

Flashes ran through your mind. Sunlight glinting on red hair. Green eyes sparkling.

"I don't know. Everyone's given liberty after graduation, till their orders come in. With his scores I figure he'll probably be assigned to some foreign spot. Probably Ganjay. They're always looking for up and coming soldiers to snap up."

"That's unfortunate. He seemed like a good chap from your letters. I'd have liked to have meet him."

"Yeah..." Suddenly, you were very tired. Your sister must have sensed something, because she stood up suddenly and brushed down her terrible dress. "Well. I can't sit around chatting all day. I have important things to do, unlike you. So I'll be off. Dinner is at six, I'll see you then."

She strode towards the door, pulling it open with the same gusto she seemed to do everything with, but stopped and turned back around. Her face had softened back into that happy smile from earlier. "It really is good to have you back Eddy."

Then she was off out the room, the door swinging shut behind her. You let yourself sag down, resting your elbows on your knees. You sat like that for a few seconds, listening to the wind batter at the window. Then the first few raindrops spattered against it, followed by more. The rain that had been threatening ever since you had gotten off the train had finally come.

You stood up, deftly undoing the buttons on your jacket. You tossed it back on the bed and walked to the window, grabbing the ends of the curtains to close it.

You stopped at the sight out of the window. The palace grounds stretched out a short way, but beyond it, almost up to the ancient walls, the city sprawled. In the distance, the great chimney stacks of the factories belched smoke up into the sky. Through the water streaked glass, you could see cars and carriages intermingle on the road. Somewhere, just out of sight, you knew the brown expanse of the River Isis was flowing, stuffed almost to bursting by ships.

Your name is Edward Alexander Marcus, Duke of Wemyss and of Penzance, by the Grace of God Crown Prince of the Albian Union. And you were back in Artemis, the most important city in the world.

You hated it.

You closed the curtains.


You are Prince Edward, recently returned heir to the Albian Union. You have your entire life ahead of you. A life of privilege and leisure, of duty and responsibility.

However, you are not a child. As a newly minted seventeen year old graduate of the empire's premier military academy, you are a man. You have lived a life. And this life has granted you certain skills. Here, you shall be deciding young Edward's strengths and weaknesses.

As is only right for a royalty quest set in the Gayaverse, we shall be using the same stats as Castles of Steel. Please vote for One Strength and One Weakness representing what Edward has spent his time focuses on honing, and what he has let slide.

[ ] Diplomacy
[ ] Strategy
[ ] Tactics
[ ] Prowess
[ ] Subterfuge
[ ] Technical

Dramatis Personae: