Chapter 6

"Be wise to censure of friends: those that are yours when your wings command the air stand no chance to those by your side when you only, but, dreamt to fly."

~

The Royal Kitchen Quarters,

The Imperial Castle,

Kingdom of Tristendyre,

Night without moon,

The first Thursnight of the Second month,

XXI Year of Regency

Crescence placed the large porcelain tray upon the kitchen's counter. It had been oddly so for over half a month. She could not discern a worthy reason for why the Royal Princess would not greet any persons or even exit her bed-chamber. Her victuals and necessities would be delivered to her door and none permitted to meet her.

The maiden took a bowl from the tray and inspected it. In all her years of service to the princess, she had never seen such a hasty pattern of emptying the dinner served.

She could not perceive wherefore her royal majesty was expressing such strange behaviour. It was curious, for the maid had planted her experiment and the result thereof was uncertain to infer.

"Crescence!" came an exclamation from behind and the addressed damsel flinched. Nearly dropping the bowl in hand, she quickly placed it down on the tray and swivelled to find her friend Imogen standing at the threshold of the royal kitchen.

"You startled me", Crescence admitted, holding a hand against her hammering chest. A giggle escaped her recipient who invited herself into the kitchen. Imogen's eyes wandered to the pots and vessels for stray traces of food to take, as she walked towards her friend.

"I doubt my calling you would have such effect unless... you were guilty", she spoke before turning to meet her eyes.

"I have much to tell you. It regards the princess, of course", said Crescence, earning a spark from Imogen's dual-coloured eyes. "But before I commence, do tell me, how fared the visit to your friend on the pillory?"

"Ah, it was quite well, Cres", said she, raking a hand through her vivid orange locks of hair; "I felt rather drowsy and couldn't sustain long conversation this night."

Crescence nodded as she listened and granted her friend a smile. "Still sleepy?" she asked and received a dazed nod in response.

"I could spare the information I have for later, if that would interest you", said she, before Imogen resisted: "Dear, no! I am thrilled to hear them all right away, do tell me!"

Crescence gave her friend a grin before the damsels linked arms and walked out into the hallway. "I had Irwisch Almonds served for her Royal Highness this night and it was actually consumed", said she.

Imogen's brows knit pensively. "Does she not despise them and send them back untouched?", she asked, receiving a nod in response. "It tickles me to imagine what could have transpired to cause such a strange conduct. Do you per-haps think the princess is away abroad and we have been subjected to believe of a presence that is not?" reasoned Cresence.

~

Imogen stared at her perception, disbelieving. "Now, Cres-dear, you are getting ahead of yourself; how could something as such possibly be the case?" she responded, although the confidence of her stand began to decline as the words exited her lips. The vermillion-haired maiden's face lost colour as she considered, in horrific realisation, what her mind seemed to be processing.

"Did your letters receive correspondence?" asked Cresence and the girl mutely shook her head 'no'.

It had been a personal and amiable custom for Imogen to leave letters with sweet sayings to various persons. About a few months ago, she had left one such at the Princess' door and much to her perplexity, there was actually a response!

Ever since, Imogen had written little notes (of all things she knew or wanted to say) to her in secret, gaining some in return. There had even been times when she had heard the Princess' presence at the Balcony of her royal residence and had sent letters to reach her upon Noctyn, her large bird's flight.

And in remittance, about a few moments past, her winged pet would return with a message attached to his greyish talons. In recent days, however, there was no such received and that had struck odd with Imogen. She did not want to fold to Cresence's contention being correct, for it came with greater uncertainty than she would wish for.

"What if it means danger to the princess?" she asked, anxious, to see Cresence in a pleasant garden of thoughts.

The dark-haired damsel looked over and smiled, saying, "There isn't anything to be so bothered of, darling." Imogen's eyes searched hers and the maiden, in response, heaved a sigh.

~

Crescence could not discern why her friend would be as naive.

All their life, they had been destined to serve at the castle in exchange for meal and clothes and chamber; they were barely granted the pleasures of their heart that could be tasted in wild dreams alone. That was the one side of the coin.

Despite the fetter they bore, in the same castle as they, there was royal life where the Princess was bestowed all of life's choicest wealth and riches, in every flavour, at her slightest beck. That was the other side.

Now, consider: if this great Coin of Fate were tossed to dictate the destiny of a mortal, where it bears palatial magnificence and plenteous value on the one side and severe penury of famine and starvation on the other, would Life truly be decided by the irreversible and spiralling revolution of a bifacial coin? To demand of a human life to endure toils to pay the price of bare essentials whilst beholding, each day, the grandiose and lavish opulence gratuitously granted to another, who could have been herself if Fate had so required?

As precariously as it seemed, Cresence had felt precisely so: that life had caused her to be born to hold the end of a sickle, while the Princess was blessed with a diamond spoon.

The one attribute by which the Princess had differed from all her people was that she was decked in melanin and they, none. Cresence could never comprehend how diabolic the favour she held was, and had built her aversion to royalty on these grounds.

The Princess' absence had given her a savoury something to feed her satisfaction. She wasn't altogether terrible, but certainly pitied herself and her kind for being victims of injustice, for they had not the advantage of royalty on purely unfair circumstances.

The maiden turned to face Imogen with a smile and said, "I know you are perturbed– and for good reason, but we are not certain. Per-haps, the Princess is still safe."

~

Imogen nodded silently. Cresence always discerned what was right and she would always trust her friend against all odds. After all, she was the one who had come to find that something was amiss. Imogen tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she looked down.

"Oh!", she exclaimed gesturing to the basket still in hand, "I forgot to leave this at the kitchen." Cresence chuckled and took it from her. The maidens walked back inside and emptied the basket of its contents.

"It appears your criminal friend had no appetite", commented Cresence as she proceeded. Imogen gazed at her companion, heart flooding with pride. She could not believe what a strong woman she was.

"Despite how fierce the truth you just uncovered was, you seem to still be able to collect your bearings and stand nonchalant. I could only dream of being as strong-willed", said she.

Cresence laughed and before she could reply, a voice spoke from behind them: "Haven't you ladies retired to your dorms yet?"

The two jolted and turned to find Jaycob leaning against the frame of the kitchen's entrance.

"Sir! We were just on our way", said Cresence, with a smile. Jaycob nodded and turned his eyes (through their mask) to Imogen, "I thought you were fatigued?"

"I was, but then, I heard some chilling opinions from Cres and all of my drowse just fled", said Imogen, tying her boundless and lush orange tresses in a large bun as she spoke.

Despite the difference in power and position, Imogen had always found her way into people's hearts with the endearing culture of friendship and good-will that was etched upon her very bones. "It's about the princess, Jay", she continued, somehow earning his undivided attention at such mention.

Imogen felt a sharp nudge against her arm and quit what speech was to follow. Cresence forced a tight smile and nodded, interfering with: "The princess despises Irwisch Almonds and I was just telling her so."

Jaycob stared at Cresence, unconvinced. "That was 'chilling'?" he raised a brow and Cresence chuckled nervously, saying, "Imogen can be quite dramatic, sir."

The man gave them a blank expression that curtained his judgement. Although she had a fair argument, Imogen's profuse nodding was suspicious. "Interesting", said he, before pushing his weight off of the side. "Gen", he called, before he left.

Imogen turned to Cresence with a remorseful expression, whispering "I'm sorry." Cresence waved it away, "It's quite alright, dear, but please tell him no more."

The orange haired damsel nodded hastily before hurrying away behind the Royal Archer.

Keeping pace with his long strides was a difficult task. Imogen followed behind Jaycob Oreius till they reached the dorm of the Physician's maiden. "Go and rest", said the man and Imogen smiled. It had been considerate of him to lead her back to her room.

She nodded and gave him a smile, "Thank you, Jay, you did not have to."

The man leaned closer and lowered his voice to say: "I may have to embark on a journey this night, but let this remain between our breaths."

Imogen nodded quietly, feeling her heart begin to beat louder. She could not place why it was confidential or why she was feeling guilty in his stead. "I will tell no one", she gave word and he nodded.

"How is Jehu?" she asked, still in a whisper, as if the effect of his secrecy had not worn. Imogen watched as the man's gaze strayed, as one's eyes would before they lied.

"Fine enough to not rouse consideration", said he. The man reached a palm to rub his chin, beneath the scarf that was over his nose reaching down to his chest.

Imogen gave a gasp when she noticed the stains of blood on his hand. "Are you injured?", she asked, worry dripping from her voice.

"No, no-", began he before she left to her room to bring him a bandage from the Physician's stock. It took no longer than a moment before she returned and handed them to him.

Dressing his hand, he watched to see her anxiously watching the art of his wrapping the cloth over the blood. "I hope you will reconsider your travel for the sake of your bruise", said she before looking up to meet his eyes.

There was a curious expression in them that was unreadable; but if one with greater intuition had looked through her eyes, they would find the hues of tenderness, as one would have when they gazed upon an innocent lamb among ravenous wolves.

~

Imogen stretched as she walked into her room. It was dark and the damsel slowly lit a candle to shed light, lest she slipped and tumbled into the Physician.

"What is the reason for your tardiness?" sounded a voice and Imogen turned her lamp to see the elderly woman seated at the side of her bed, a shawl over her shoulders and a smile on her face.

"I was late visiting Jehu", said Imogen and the lady nodded. "You must be careful, my dear, I would prefer you attend to your sleep in proper time", said the Physician and Imogen nodded, "I am sorry, my lady, I will be faithful."

Placing the lamp of the candle by her bed, Imogen removed the shawl around her and placed it by, feeling the cold air touch her arms. The maiden took her place by the edge of the bed, wondering whether she should leave a note to the Princess.

After much consideration, she relieved the quill from its perch at the inkwell and drew a parchment out.

"I dearly hope you are safe and well. Do treat yourself delightfully, I wish for your contentment."

With those words written in cursive, Imogen returned the quill and folded the note. Willing to leave this for the Princess the following day, she unlit the candle's light and cast one last glance out the lattice of the window before she would relent to the beckons of slumber.

She would usually expect Noctyn to grant her a visit, but the bird's vision was fading mildly and darkening clouds were parading into the skies, heralding the insuing of continued rains, which birds as he would observe beforehand.

The view from the Physician's Wing of the Castle's Tower displayed the magnificent Cross-Fraught Bridge in mist and distance. The damsel smiled, imagining how great it was, as her eyes slowly began adapting to the tune of the darkness.

Just then, she blinked a couple and moved close to the window to discern if what she was seeing was true: there was a dusky silhouette standing at the crest of the fallen bridge, evanescing into the stillness of night.

~