Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Five
My return to Lutece was accompanied with a glorious fanfare the likes of which I had never seen before. Needless to say, I rushed inside the palace faster than the people on the streets could as much as yell my name.
"Y-your highness!" one of the servants saw me rush and halted me, making me skid to a stop. "Your wife has changed rooms-she's in the lillac-"
"Placement?" I asked with a snap, receiving a reply of second floor, fourth room to the left from the stairway, and then rushing in that direction. My heart drummed a thousand miles per hour as I outright slammed the doors open, stepping inside with my breathing short.
Isabella was resting on the bed, breathing slowly and evenly. My entrance had barely disturbed her, probably because she was under the effects of this or that drug for pain relief. The wet nurses were nearby, and something like half a dozen guards were at attention with their hands on their rifles by the side of a crib. At my entrance, they all squared their shoulders and snapped a salute in the most silent way I had ever seen a salute be snapped.
I neared quietly the crib, and as I stared at the contents within, I exhaled in relief.
"Your highness wishes to hold him?" the wet nurse by my side asked, but I barely heard her. So...there he was.
Gosh darn it. Wasn't he just the cutest little thing? Don't worry - I will murder the whole world if it dares try to hurt you. Not that there will ever be anyone willing to hurt you, of course, because you're just going to be the perfect child that no one will ever wish to see hurt, and-and...
"What's his name?" I asked instead. "Did Isabella name him already?"
"His royal highness Pierre Joseph de Gallia," the wet nurse said as she gently lifted the baby up for me to hold in turn, "Your son, your highness."
I gingerly grabbed hold of him and stared at the half-closed eyes of the sleeping creature cradled in the crook of my arm. "He's healthy, right?" I asked.
"Healthy as healthy can be," the wet nurse said with a nod.
"And...there was only one, right?" I asked once more. "There wasn't a twin or-"
"No, her royal majesty did not have twins," the head of the wet nurses said most primly. "The birth happened quickly, and there were no complications."
I exhaled, and then gingerly passed the baby back to the wet nurse, who put him back in the crib. He was still soundly sleeping, which was good, right? Well, whatever. It was-whatever. I grabbed a chair and sat down with a hefty sigh by my wife's bedside, and then waited, grabbing hold of one of her hands.
The head of the royal healers was hovering on the other side, sighing and shaking his head all the time. "It's a waste time," he grumbled, "Her royal majesty's healthy too, still, until she wakes up I am not to leave her side-" he shook his head. "Your highness' return will do her good. It shames me to say it, but for a patient, she was quite the troublesome one."
I chuckled lightly. "Aren't all pregnancies like that?"
"Indeed, but it is the one sickness that women seem to enjoy taking upon themselves," the old man said with a grumbling tone. "Never understood it, but I am a male, so who knows?" he muttered a couple more chants, to check on the flow of water in Isabella's body, and then nodded before taking a seat on the opposite side, grabbing a book and beginning to read it without much of a care in the world.
Isabella's breathing remained calm, until there was a sudden change and her eyes blinked open as she groaned. "It hurts," she mumbled, and as her hand clenched around mine, she blinked and turned her head to the side to meet my gaze. "Ah-the...the child couldn't wait," she said in a soft whisper. "He really couldn't wait. He wanted to greet you too, I guess-"
"I did my best to arrive in time," I replied with a small nod. "He's beautiful."
"He's ours, so of course he's beautiful," Isabella said with a smile and all the pride in the world that she could muster in her voice. I nodded at that.
"Your majesty-you are as healthy as a woman who has just given birth can be-if I could be excused," the royal healer's words made Isabella sigh, but she nodded, shooing him away with barely another word.
Her back was gently propped by a few maids against half a dozen of pillows, and even as she winced from the pain, she still had the baby brought to her. "I had him named after our fathers, but since I did not want to call him Joseph, I went with Pierre." She sniffled as she clutched the sleeping boy to her chest. "He's beautiful," she mumbled once more. "So, so beautiful."
"That he is," I said once more.
Nothing more needed to be said.
Three days later, the whole of Gallia was announced the birth of His Emperorship, the imperial heir to both Albion and Gallia, Prince Pierre Joseph de Gallia.
The next day, a Prince met with an Elf with a Raven as witness.
The night was breezy, but otherwise warm. The stars lit up the firmament, the moons shining their glory on the dirt of the courtyard of the royal gardens. The area of the Western Parterre had delicate bushes of roses that emitted fragrant perfumes, but while there were guards, they were easily avoided. Near the bushes, sleeping peacefully, stood the nests of crows of various types and shapes. They crooned softly, and sometimes Raven would near with his beak one of them, and gingerly put him beneath a few more strands of grass to keep him or her warm.
"Your familiar is a demon that devours the hearts of children," Bidashal spoke plainly as he looked at me.
"Saint Anubis and the Gandalfr were the same elf named Sasha who gouged out the Founder's heart after he committed unspeakable atrocities," I replied as a matter of fact.
I swear, if he hadn't had a hat on his head, his hair would have probably exploded in a hundred of different directions.
He most aptly chose to use the flattest tone available to him to remark, "What."
"There are a lot of things that get lost in history," I pointed out. "Some things, like the story of the Hero Ivaldi, they are told countless times, change form, morph-you have the same stories with Saint Anubis-but at the end of the day, the root of it is perhaps the truth," I chuckled gently. "You seem surprised, Bidashal. My knowledge scares you?"
"No," Bidashal replied. "What scares me is how easily you say these things."
I laughed gingerly, and shook my head. "You can think I am mad, but the truth is such a terrifying thing that it will reveal itself, whether we wish for it or not. Had you come to me at first, I would have been able to solve many a problem," I glanced at him. "Why did you not choose Gallia?"
"Gallia had been my first choice," Bidashal acquiesced. "But news of its military prowess and arming up soon made me think another crusade was in the works. That is why I sought out another, more suitable person. Germania seemed viable, but I did not like their Emperor's way of dealing with things. However, Tristain's princess seemed the right type of ruler, and she proved herself to be a considerate sort."
"For a human," I pointed out. "Yes, Henrietta was a surprisingly soft-hearted young girl in love. She's a good girl, but being good girls and having what it takes to hold on to a crown are two different things."
"My deals with her are secret," Bidashal said.
"Rights to the Saharan, technology for the digging of windstones-I know Bidashal, I know," I smiled. "As I said before, the truth cannot be hidden," Raven cawed from my side. "So, Member of the Old Council of Nepthys, ah, no, only Bidashal right now, uh?" my smile grew wider. "I seek peace, Bidashal. That is my truth. I seek a peace the likes of which shall extend from one corner of the world to another. I seek a peace that will see no rivals, no threats, no stops-I seek a peace that shall last forever." I raised my right hand. "And I seek salvation for my people. What fault do we have for the sins of our ancestors? Is it right for the child to pay the price of the father's crime? Is punishment just, if it is brought down the whole family line to its youngest charge? I say it isn't," I held my hand up right in front of him. "Humans might have made, and might still make, lots of mistakes. But it is the duty of the wise to educate and teach, not to punish and whip."
"For a barbarian, you speak wise words," Bidashal muttered.
"For an elf who knows nothing of the past, you think you know lots," I replied quite calmly. "There are sins crawling on the backs of humans, that is true-but the elves' own backs aren't that squeaky clean themselves now, are they?" I smiled. "He who is without sin cast the first stone-and don't you dare do it, Raven, I'm watching you-"
Raven stopped mid-picking of a pebble nearby, huffed, and then dropped the pebble.
"What proof do you have?" Bidashal asked. "I have been hearing pleasant words-but without proof..."
"What you call demonic power, what you consider evil-I have intimate knowledge of it. I know the users, the objects, the familiars-I have gathered them. If I actually and honestly wished for it, tomorrow there would be no elves left in the whole world. But I do not want that," I stared straight at Bidashal. "We all have children. We all have sons, and daughters, and friends and people we cherish and love. I do not wish to use such a mean, but I know what is waiting deep below the surface of this land-and it must be averted." I stared at Bidashal. "I know you will say you will need to speak with your leader-and I want you to do that. No, honestly..."
I smiled.
"I want you to bring me to Chief Tariq, and your whole council of Nepthys, of Adiir, so that I may plead my case."
If the fly does not go to the parlor, then the parlor shall go to the fly.
And we will dance under the moonlight amidst crossroads at midnight.
