Chapter 59

"Was he so crafty in his cunningness that he had even poisoned himself?

Did you know that the Art of deception is alive and faithful to its own name only, for Deceit betrays its wielder first, Dear Iscariot?"

~

The Princess' Chambers,

Residence in the Imperial Castle,

Kingdom of Tristendyre,

The first Phrinight of the Second month,

XXI Year of Regency

"It is tradition that every royal heir be enthroned at the age of five and score years, if there is no competent and reigning Duvessa Ruler. Mercedes' coronation should have been expected since her very birth. It is strange that they hadn't quite completed all arrangements about months ago", said Jaycob Oreius.

Imogen, in reception, nodded slowly. "That is truly concerning", she admitted. "Even Lady Minerva and I had received our silks sewed into beautiful dresses for the Ceremony when it was only a couple of months ago."

The olive-haired man nodded pensively.

There were much happening that did not deal neatly with their perceptions; there were many secrets behind the passive facade of the Government.

At that hour of night, the moon and stars anointed their beams upon the earth till the light illuminated their countenances to appear ethereal.

Jaycob watched as Imogen's fingers did not pause with their constant fidgeting of the documents in her hand.

"Are you nervous?", asked the Archer and she nodded with a smile.

"I do not believe I can suffice perfectly to fill the part that Her Majesty should have played", said the damsel whose mis-mated eyes bore anxiousness.

"There is yet a day betwixt this night and the day of the Coronation. They will train you to perfect your demeanour. I assume they will alter your appearance to reflect Mercedes'. Don't fret about embarrassing yourself; the insults will not gather to your name", said he, eyes on the documents he had handed to her.

Imogen gave a blythe giggle. "Now if I do, in fact, clumsily act in my lack of stability, the people would know for certainty that I am an imposter and I am not she", the damsel reasoned.

"Ha!", Jaycob snorted. "You greatly overestimate Mercedes' poise. Although it is royally a professional forum I have addressed her in, that young lady's etiquettes and nobility are purely superficial; at least as far as concerns demeanour."

The fire-haired damsel seemed eased, as though information that regarded the daughter of the Kingdom's Crown seeming greatly incompetent and child at heart had put her to relax.

"But", Imogen began, "how shall I manage to wield the great Sword of Erdengaur? I am not of royal blood. It will be mandatory in the course of proceedings to hoist it as per decorum."

The tall man gave her a smile before saying, "The Sword that rests upon the template is as faked as the Government's powers. Even a child could wield it, but it remains untouched for the sake of sacredness."

There was shock in her eyes and much contemplation. "But where did we misplace it?" asked the damsel, nearly choked in fear.

"It is with the Princess. We are hoping she does keep it safely until she is retrieved", said Jaycob.

~

"Will we truly bring her back?" asked Imogen, tasting the mild and conflicted feelings, for as dearly as she wished to have the Princess home, she knew that the girl would desire against returning to the Kingdom.

She remembered the vial of message that Her Grace had left behind. It had not sounded very jubilant regarding her life in the Imperial Castle.

"It is necessary that she be brought back. After all there is much duty that she has abandoned", was his reply.

"But how would she be brought? Isn't her location undiscerned?" asked the damsel whose nose was mildly painted with freckles as if the bristles of a brush had splattered diluted ink upon the bridge of her nose.

"I am accurately aware of her position; it mustn't be a hassle bringing her hither", said he, as though he was resolved.

"Per-haps she had fair purpose in so levanting?", the damsel sought to rationally coax his opinion, for the use of feelings in persuasion would not find gains against the reckoning of Jaycob Oreius.

"And what would be as mighty as to require her escape?" asked the Archer, as if he found none worthy a reason.

"May-be she wished to find her mother for the ulterior good of the nation?", Imogen tried, mind foraging for whys and wherefores.

"News of Queen Sable Duvessa's being alive would not have reached her ears had I not bestowed Nathan's final article and brought it to her heed. I am aware that such notions as finding family could drive a person to great heights of reckless search, but she has been quite restless for a longer while than so", said the man of olive hair.

"It could be the lack of love or the hostility of her place", Imogen suggested, twisting a lock of orange hair in her finger as she spoke.

"Why must your understanding be as naive?", Jaycob sighed. "It would require the intellect of a child to infer that post her coronation, she would be Crown Queen; there is none that can waylay her plans of finding her family after such. She needed only to wait a half month. I don't believe the lack of love can suffocate one to such far extent."

The damsel in conversation yielded to his opinion, for it was sensible and the odds that she had not conceived such casual thoughts was only derogatory of her own wits.

"Would it, but, bother you if she is not recovered forth in timely hour?" the girl asked further.

"It would benefit my position to restore her into her native sojourn herein", said he. "I am aware my motives are selfish, but that is how I choose to run this course, in order to win my purpose."

"And what is your course leading to?", asked Imogen.

"To earn the favour of the Regent; thereby, I will keep my position. I may be killed if otherwise should happen", said he.

"Jaycob", the young maiden began, feeling rather conflicted of his principles, "You are much cleverer than to have one as unworldly as me to let you see this: you are making your path to please the Regent. Your grandfather will not have been delighted to hear of this notion."

"It is not entirely, Gen; I believe I am in line with an ulterior poise of revenge that requires this favour. Would not my grandfather be appeased in knowing I shall avenge my family after I have achieved the heart of the Regent?", the Archer leaned forward as he placed his words.

Imogen pursed her lips in hesitated pondering. He appeared like her words truly had shook his way of thought, but the man's intentions were firmly entitled to their opinions like it was his single course of action that had found deep roots in his mind, watered by various consideration.

"Naught of revenge would appease your grandfather; it will benefit him none. At most powerful, it would challenge your peace", said she, although the words she cast were rebounding from his powerful fortress of unbothered opinion.

"There is underlying advantage", was his final word.

Imogen thought long, for the prospect of the Princess' return felt unsettling; it felt wrong for the damsel may have good reason for running, even though Jaycob did not count them significant.

"And if I have a selfish reason of my own against your ways, would you listen?", asked she.

There was an expression of surprise where he nodded before watching her intently, for it had been without the realms of her character to post such abrupt contention.

"If the Kingdom repossesses the Princess, then my value here will be redundancy. Thus, I will be executed to my true Death for feigning this position; for unauthorised entry into the chambers of her Majesty, for the scandal of being crowned and enthroned and for much greater follies that even the Laws of Tristendyre could not have conceived! Would you then, refrain from seeking the Princess if it comes at the price of my life?"

Jaycob observed pensive silence as he considered her words. Then finally, he rendered his: "If I truly do find Mercedes, I will assure to take you to safety before she may enter these premises."

Imogen felt lost. There was no home, there was no family and there was no more the joy of surviving her death. What would her life be with all lost in the raging seas of Imperial thespianism and aristocratic spectacles where she was forced to live lies?

"Alright then", said she. "But all that life had given me will be wrenched of my grasp just as you fear yours will too."

The Archer threw his head back in ponderings before it was long enough and he returned his attention to her own. "If the Princess is reinstated, will you not find your position given you?"

The damsel seemed pensive before she asked, "But can that stand between me and the Law? Simply the Princess' behest to have a soul saved of the punishment assigned to her?"

The olive-haired man nodded, "Every one of Royal blood has the power of three chances to excusing mortals even against the Law and such rare privilege can be utilised only past enthronement. As the Princess has those of hers to use, I doubt she would not hesitate to spend like on your behalf."

Imogen nodded slowly, "Alright then, I will allow the risk, but you cannot bid her to come here-in against her own will."

Jaycob agreed as hesitantly that it was evident this command pleased him not.

The damsel looked up to see the benighted skies bring icy winds to touch her. "May we step inside? If you wish to leave, you may use the door as regular folks do, Sir Gentleman", said she with dual coloured eyes.

The Archer chuckled as he followed close behind her, saying, "Regular folks shall not enter your chambers through the door at free will. It is believed that the Princess resides here and that she is observing a fast against encountering persons. It would be slanderous if I be seen making way through the doors."

"But the men of black garments did visit me", said she.

"They are from the Regent. They will be aware that this is a ruse, most obviously", said the masked man.

"But how do you plan on leaving? By means of the balcony?", asked she.

"Eager to shed my company, I see", the tall man smirked before giving her his more proper answer: "In perfect honesty, I am in these chambers for further and more mysterious business."

"Has your wound healed well?" asked Imogen, eyes descending to the arm that had been gnashed by the pillory the previous night.

His eyes followed her gaze before he lifted his hand up to inspect the welt, pushing the sleeved of the cloak below. "I feel no pain. I assume it has healed quite. But fret not; this business does not require physical exhaustion."

"Are these documents, then, of relevance to you in the matter?", asked she, staring at the pages, which appeared as letters and invoices, that he had bestowed into her grasp.

"Kindly do keep them whiles I am away", he requested, applying the dark mask of Joab Xavier's ensemble to acquire the likeness of the men in ebony clothing.

Imogen nodded.

"And further", he began, shoving the hems of the black cloak aside until his suit was visible beneath. After rummaging, he produced a key and placed it in her palm.

"Please do hold this in your safe possession; it accesses the Secret Cell of my grandfather and his partner. There is a single candelabrum that will appear in the shape of a dragon's claws holding the sconce attached to a wall; inject the key into the hole at the bottom thereof and twist twice. Then, the doors shall be loosened of their grills penetrating into the heart of adjacent walls. At pushing, they will suffer openings", said Jaycob.

"You may enter therein and try your fortune at deciphering the writings of the walls, but be sure to be cautious."

Imogen nodded most sacredly and took the key into the safety of her grasp and asked: "Would you not need this more than I?"

"Nay, I will be leaving on my voyage this very night, after my present business. And further, I have a replica thereof of my own", said the olive haired man, gesturing to his possession.

The damsel nodded before asking more: "And where are you leaving to now?"

"The Under-Ground Dungeons"

~