V. Conclave

There were several rational explanations of Princess Salome's disappearance, but the fact that she was last seen with someone with a jaguar mask told otherwise.

A break-in, and a costume missing. The major lead I had as of the moment was the Opera House which I planned to visit.

Before the events of the day unfolded, I recalled the words of Princess Salome.

"I don't want to be here. There's this energy that I despise."

And she lived in the castle, surrounded by that energy. My head ached from attempting to connect the dots.

Princess Salome did mention being rebellious which led to her being sent away to India by her mother.

Perhaps, she ran away? But why? Why run away instead of solving the mystery that involved the death of your sister?

If she did run away, I was certain it would be somewhere in India.

Shoving out the thoughts of the Crown Heiress which induced pain in the head, I peered forward to the day with reluctance.

Rosalie, and Aunt Genevieve were downstairs, in the living room. In her wonted morning practice, Aunt Genevieve's eyes were stuck to the newspaper. Beside her was a table that carried a plate; it contained dead cigarette butts. They once were longer, with that sizzling ember light at the tip, billowing smoke. Then, when they were no longer with purpose, they were abandoned and laden with ash.

Vixen was the mere brand of cigarette that Aunt Genevieve would purchase. She described that it was different than other cigarettes she had used, or in her words, experienced. It sent her to a spiraling ecstasy; a psychedelic trance of temporary bliss, and satisfaction.

Rosalie, on the other hand, disliked the way her mother smoked around the manor, leaving behind wisps of odor. She rose from her seat, and greeted. "How's your sleep, Ara?"

"It was a dreamless sleep," I told her. "No nightmares whatsoever."

"Great! Because I have received another cordial invitation that we take ourselves to the Hall of Parliament." She announced.

"What is it about this time?"

Aunt Genevieve chimed in, putting down her newspaper. Her abrupt gesture caused Rosalie to scowl, in a way she made sure that she wasn't seen by her mother. "Governor Philipps has decided, with the approval of the other representatives, that the alternative course of action be taken. Usually, we'd do the traditional coronation but since we don't have any Royals, we are left with one option."

"And that option is a monarchy election," I completed.

"You've read your books well," Rosalie said with a smile on her face.

"According to the books I've read, a monarchy election has happened once in Helmburn history. King Alistair Ashworthe won the competition, which bred a new bloodline of Royals," I said.

"Which has now severed when Queen Amice, and Princess Salome disappeared." Aunt Genevieve put her newspaper up, obstructing her face from view. "Enjoy your day today, ladies."

* * *

We gathered around the table in the Hall of Parliament. The table was occupied by the Heads of House, and the representatives of the Parliament.

"You've called us in an hour before lunchtime, I expect you prove this meeting vital," Lady Adelaide stated. She flitted her gaze at Governor Philipps.

"It is vital. The reason we called you in is that you may be interested." Sir Carlos spoke. "All of you may have received news that the disappearance of the Crown Heiress has been confirmed by Sir Quint." He extended his arm to point at him, who stood awkwardly. All eyes went to him.

"There was no trace of Princess Salome, thus declaring her disappearance." Sir Quint swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Therefore, the Parliament has decided to take action," said Lady Deanne.

It was time for Governor Philipps to share what would happen to the throne. "In order to keep moving forward, and to ensure that the kingdom remains with a monarch to rule its land, is to commence an election."

"What qualities are you expecting, when selecting a monarch?" Rosalie asked.

"Good question." Sir Carlos nodded at Sir Quint.

Sir Quint took a step forward and addressed her question. "The throne needs a monarch who rules with mercy, and honesty. With stance in justice, and in fairness." He added. "I have worked for the Royals for a long time. Suffice to say, Queen Amice is an intelligent and wise woman whose creative mind helped Helmburn to victory in a war."

"Ah, the 1871 war with the land of the East," said Lord Erika in wonder. Then his tone shifted to a sullen timbre. "My father enlisted as one of the soldiers. He will be remembered as a hero."

"As well as Lord Ignestre, a noble man of House Ausleya," Lord Francis dropped an information.

That name sparked memories in my head... those nights when Aunt Genevieve would sob it out. Father was a hero.

Rosalie looked at me, checking to see if I was alright. I remained collected; I made sure that I wouldn't fall off on the brink of tears. I wish that I had met him. I wish that I had a childhood with both parents. They were gone and lost forever.

"They have made an ultimate sacrifice, and to that, we owe our thanks," Sir Carlos hung his head. The room went into collective silence.

Seconds later, the meeting resumed. Lady Deanne began explaining the monarchy election. "A candidate who chooses to run for the throne must gather votes from the Great Houses and the common Houses." She eyed each and every one of us. "Whosoever has collected the most votes will win. There will be a special rite conducted pre-coronation."

"What is the special rite?" Lord Adrian asked.

"It's a ceremonial act wherein the throne champion or championess will be presented in the style of a parade. After parading around the kingdom, the throne champion will be taken to the throne room to deliver his or her vows," Sir Carlos responded.

"Queen Amice hasn't gone through this since she is already apart of a royal bloodline. This special rite is only held when coronation does not follow the traditional path of heir inheritance," Sir Quint added.

"This sounds intriguing." Lord Jake leaned backwards with a remark that moved across the room.

Governor Philipps cleared his throat, demanding the attention be upon him. "Let us begin. Who wishes to run for the throne?"

He studied the room, and everyone glanced at each other. It wasn't long until someone made the first move. "I, Lord Jake Partridge, am willing to run for the throne." He gave everyone his trademark smile.

"We will require at least two candidates in order for a competition to occur," Lady Deanne informed. She secretly shot Lord Jake a look of disapproval. Then, she flicked her venomous gaze at Governor Philipps.

What was she up to?

I twisted to my right, to where Rosalie was. She peered into my eyes. There was a hint of expression in them, like faith. Faith in somebody. She bobbed her head, and a smile stretched across her face. It was crystal clear what she meant.

But I wasn't certain whether to act on it or not.

The choice was up to me.

"Anyone?" Governor Philipps lifted an eyebrow, creasing his forehead. He slowly travelled to hopelessness until I stood up. He perked up, following the source of the noise.

I swallowed, before casting my gaze upon the people who were watching me. "I, Lady Arabelle Ausleya, am willing to run for the throne."

"Very well. Anyone else who would like to put their foot forward?" Governor Philipps asked one more time.

The other Heads of House who sat around the table shook their heads, and denied.

"It seems that we have found two candidates who decided to take on the monarchy election." Lady Deanne grinned. "Lady Arabelle, and Lord Jake, the challenge is to secure votes, and show Helmburn why you must be the selected monarch."

Lord Erika shot up, clapping with a smile. "I cannot wait to see who will impress me more. Lady Arabelle, or Lord Jake?"

"As for the remaining Heads of House, it is up to your own criteria as to which of the two is worthy of the vote," said Sir Carlos.

"Give us today to prepare," Lord Francis suggested.

"Alright, that will be fine, but the competition is to be done in two weeks," Lady Deanne stated, burning us with her gaze.

"Two weeks? I can handle." Lord Jake unveiled, yet again, a smile that seemingly taunted me.

Rosalie leaned closer in a whisper, hushing her voice so that Lord Jake wouldn't hear us. "Don't let him get into your head. Focus on the competition."

I couldn't help but study Lord Jake's smile. There was a possibility of sabotage, in order for him to win. "It's not him I'm worried about. After this meeting, I'll meet up with you sometime later. There is a place I need to try checking." I whispered to her.

"Suit yourself."

* * *

Once the meeting had concluded, I mingled around the Hall of Parliament in search of an office.

"Where are you going, Lady Arabelle?" A voice made my head whirl around.

A few steps away, Lady Adelaide narrowed her eyes for a moment before leveling her gaze.

"I am on my way out," I responded. Hopefully the reply was enough to keep her away.

She breathed in a long exhale, then took herself forward, slowly. "Since you're running for candidacy, I'll have you know that my vote will remain undisclosed until the electoral conclave. In that day, all votes are revealed from the Great Houses."

A question formed. "What's your criteria?"

Lady Adelaide had an oddly pacific expression on her face. Her features lacked any radiating intensity. "You will see for yourself." She walked past me. A gust of air rushed by and grazed my shoulder. The rhythm of her heels stopped. "I bid you luck, Lady Arabelle, you'll need it. And for whatever other activities you employ yourself to." After emitting words in a tone unaltered, she receded from view.

Lady Adelaide was an interim delay to the inevitable; I was headed to the office of Governor Philipps. My eyes soared everywhere, desperately searching for his name.

A victorious sensation set itself when I espied a wood plate on the wall next to a door. Etched to the wood was Governor Keith Allan Philipps.

I allowed my eyes to dissect my surroundings, making sure I was in the clear. Then, I pressed my ear flat against the door. In the other side, there was the pulsating of complete silence. I was safe to go inside.

The stack of manila folders brushed to the side of his desk quickly caught my eye. I knew that among the many documents, and items in this office, were clues and evidences hidden from the naked eye. It could be anywhere.

Stored in his shelf were trophies, and relics that were reminiscent of achievements.

What came into my mind first was to dive into his drawers. I pulled out the top drawer which held assorted miscellaneous. The second drawer had papers, and documents about draft legislative proposals. One of them struck a wall of memory.

The voting rights.

Another was a self-written letter meant for nobody else but Governor Philipps. I took a peek.

Dear Keith,

You are a magnificent creation. No one else, not even Queen Amice, can be superior but you. A work of art. An intelligent man.

Although, you do need to work on grabbing yourself a wife.

And thus concluded that Governor Philipps was indeed unwed. I returned the self-written letter in its original place.

"-for a minute. I shall write the check." A muffled sound thumped from outside the office. Thin shadow slid through the bottom gap of the door. I had to hide. The best spot was under the desk. I prayed that no man or woman would find me down here.

As I adjusted under the desk, the door creaked open. Not a second after, there was a soft slam.

"I did not forget. That woman." The frustrated timbre echoed through the room. I knew that voice. It was Governor Philipps in the room. "Now where did I put the pad of check?"

I couldn't discern where he went. His footsteps had no fixed rhythm. Hopefully it wasn't towards me.

I shut my eyes when I hearkenened to approaching thuds of footfalls. Grasping onto dear life was the mere thing I was capable of right now. A few minutes later, the door swung open again then closed shut.

Certainly, he left the room. I crawled out of the darkness I hid in, then discovered that I was alone in the office again.

I had not checked the third drawer yet, therefore I did. Shrouded in piles and tangles of personal belongings was a weathered article. After taking it out, I revealed it under the glare of light to see better. It was torn from a newspaper. The headline was 'FIRE HITS ESTATE', published by The Herald. The Herald was not the name of the kingdom's newspaper company.

My eyes widened when I realized the article dated back to June 3, 1884.

The question was, why was some random article hidden in his drawer?

To cover up any trace of entering his office, I deftly slipped the weathered article where it belonged.

Peeling away from the desk, I had other places to hold under scrutiny.

I explored cabinets, then found a jewelry box with a locket that had initials, A.N., engraved in it. When I held it out, it was a beautiful accessory. Surely this was a gift for someone, but it was kept in the dust, in a jewelry box. Perhaps that person turned it down?

I decided that I had enough of this office. The possible clues I had were the locket, and the article.

* * *

Not long after leaving the Hall of Parliament, I arrived at the Opera House. Those outdoor buzz of people, and the day melted behind me as I pushed my way inside.

A pleasant greeting came. Suddenly, I was fixated to the performance on stage. There were three theatre actors acting dramatically, while the piano played on the far side.

There was a woman in sartorial beauty, captured in the muscular arms of a man who appeared to be in a soldier uniform. The two leaned their faces closer.

"Maria, forgive me for what I'm about to do." The man spoke out, manifesting a solemn tone. "I do not wish for this to happen, but it must. There is no other way for us to be together other than the next life."

Maria, a character being played, responded to the man. "O, Bastien, there are little strings attached to destiny."

There was a perplexed look on Bastien's face. Then, it dawned upon him, but he was too late when Maria pulled out a shiv. She drove it upwards before plunging it into the neck of Bastien. "A woman like me cannot be underestimated," she hisses. The scene raised the hairs on the back of my neck, and the music crested.

Bastien staggered backwards, dropping to the floor slowly.

"And cut!"

Immediately, the theatre actors snapped out of the trance. Bastien, and Maria were no longer on stage.

"I am impressed. You two have come a long way after the many rehearsals," a woman stated proudly.

"Thank you, Madam Desiree!"

"Take yourself backstage, and rest," Desiree instructed, allowing the theatre actors their recess.

When she rose up from her crimson velvet seat, which was one among many, I reached out to her in a way I tried was not too forward. "You must be the head of this Opera House, Madam Desiree?" Fortunately, the theatre actor dropped her name in five syllables. "It would be very inattentive of me not to notice and praise the laudable performance you directed."

Those were the most flattering words I could muster which generated at the back of my head.

Madam Desiree's eyes travelled up and down, drinking the sight of me in. Her solemn clenched face loosened to a smile. "That is truly an admirable thing for you to say, my Lady. I am glad you enjoyed the rehearsal performance." She flickered for a moment, a frown striking her. "I am quite sullen that her Majesty, and the Crown Heiress are not able to witness what we have been working on. Within the world of arts, it is a kingdom tradition to display cultural crafts to the Royals, the Parliament, the nobles, and the people."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Certainly, her Majesty will find your work delightful. After all, these performances divert us from the troubles of the real world. We are able to be entertained, and be freed from the withering grips of our personal problems."

Madam Desiree's eyes lit up, the trace of sadness fading behind her glinting iris. "Why don't I see you around these parts often? You draw me in with your magnetic allure."

I chuckled. "Oh, I rarely take myself out of the manor, but these days, I'd be quite remiss if I stayed within, and merely read books."

"Quite charming, I daresay." Madam Desiree took a step back in order for her hands to gesture at my body. "This is a beautiful sculpture."

There was a sensation of bliss from the compliment. Madam Desiree lifted my mood. Then, I asked her a question which strayed away from what we talked about. "May I know who funds the theatre? I have always been curious."

With glee sunken deep in her tone, she responded. "Thanks to Governor Philipps, and his generous funding offers, the Opera House continues to stand."

Governor Philipps had a lot of money. My mind wandered back to the scene wherein I was under his desk, and eavesdropped on him. He was grumbling about a woman, and a pad of cheque.

"I recall a break-in. I am terribly sorry for what happened," I frowned.

"Bah. Don't be. The break-in isn't your doing, my Lady. Fortunately, we are backed by a replacement ensemble for the jaguar costume," said Madam Desiree.

The mention of jaguar had my mind traversing back to Lord Adrian's words, when Princess Salome was last seen with someone who wore a jaguar mask.

"That's good news to hear." I told her, and carried my gaze to the draping red curtain. Then, I whirled my head at her, smiling. "May I take a peek backstage? I'd love to admire what goes behind the glamorous stage operas."

A grin strung her lips upward. Her lips curved to speak. "Of course! This way." She led me backstage where there were theatre actors, in their costumes, chatting with each other. Some were acting on their own rehearsals, and the others were memorizing their scripts.

There was a woman playing the piano, her fingers dancing on black, and white keys to produce histrionic tunes. Those sounds stayed as an authentic background to the portrayed storytelling of the play.

Mannequins lined on one side. There was a face I had recognized among the puddle of strangers. "Lord Erika?" I gaped in shock, to see him backstage.

"Oh, Lady Arabelle, fancy seeing you around here. I did not know you like paying the Opera House a visit," Lord Erika smiled.

"Well, it is time I try new things."

"Speaking of new things, I bid you luck on the competition," said Lord Erika. He sounded genuine, to say the least.

"Thank you, Lord Erika. I appreciate it." I tore my eyes away from him, and watched as a theatre actor belted out a sentimental line from the play. "What brings you to the Opera House, my Lord?"

Lord Erika analyzed the question, his face unreadable. He pored over, seemingly trawling through a web of thought in his mind to search for the best response. "I came to take notes of romanticism. These opera plays have remarkable taste in singing out the language of love."

"Right? But you still do want the jaguar costume?" A theatre actress barged in.

"I- uh..." Lord Erika appeared to twist his tongue, not able to rally perspicuous words. He cleared his throat. "Ahem. I wished to borrow. I'm a hapless case since the break-in."

"What was borrowing the costume for?" I smiled, and nudged. "To be a romantic jaguar?"

The theatre actress erupted into a howl of laughter, her form shrinking, and shaking in the raucous rhythm. "Romantic jaguars. Yes. That is hilarious."

Lord Erika was not able to cover up his jaw dropping to the floor, at the comment of the theatre actress, and probably mine. "At least I have the audacity to take risks. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a poem to write." He resigned from backstage in a huff.

"He most likely never told you that he goes to the Opera House to want to try theatre, right?" The theatre actress lifted an eyebrow.

"Lord Erika? Theatre? I don't see how."

"Let's say that he came in backstage once upon a time. He brought his poetic lyrics with him, and attempted to sing out loud." She stifled a laugh. "He has potential, but needs practice."

"That is interesting information to digest..." I trailed off. Sensing the awkward atmosphere setting in, the theatre actress bid farewell, and returned to rehearsing.

* * *

The next morning, I was ushered to Rosalie's bedchamber.

"Alright, what is supposed to happen today?" I asked Rosalie.

"Since I am more connected to the Hall of Parliament, I've received updates from Head of House Dupont, Lord Francis."

My heart fell to the pit of my stomach. "What's the event about?"

"Lord Francis invites you on a hunting retreat to the woodlands. Of course, you'll be joined by Lord Jake, your rival, and Sir Quint, who will assess the situation. I should also inform you that Sir Quint has the right to vote... since he has been the Queen's right-hand." Rosalie informed, and it was too much to process at the moment, especially at the early peak of dawn.

"Which means I'll have to secure the votes of not just the Heads of Houses, but the Parliament... the nobles... a lot of people." I said. The weight of this competition suddenly became heavy, and made it hard for my lungs to breathe.

"Not to worry, I have you backed up. What you need to remember is that Lord Francis Dupont is fond of talking about family, and keeping traditions. He also takes a liking to crossbows." She smiled. "Lucky for you, I'm generous enough to lend over mine."

"You had one? And you never told me?" I peered at her in surprise.

"It was a secret," Rosalie chuckled.

* * *

There was that loud pounding in my chest, almost painful. The hunting dress I was in was itchy. Whenever the sunlight took a glance at it, I glowed. The sun highlighted the marigold fabric, and the intricate patterns.

But because of the soothing presence of nature, I eased down a bit. Birds soared with a beautiful pastel sky behind them. Trees stretched upwards, reaching for wisps of clouds.

"Lady Arabelle, you have arrived. Right on time," Lord Jake made an approach with arms extended to the sides, as if presenting his green kingdom. "No matter who we impress today, I will be proud of you. Beautiful." With a lack of warning, he lifted his knuckles to graze them along my cheek. He lowered his voice to a whisper which set tingles on my stomach. "I never ignored your beauty. I just kept holding myself back."

"What are you talking–"

He cut me off when he pressed a finger to my lip. In a way, his eyes glinted with desire. He drew himself closer, holding my chin with his other hand. "You're so alluring. More beautiful up close." He continued. "I've been yearning your touch."

I ripped myself away from Lord Jake. The moment was unsettling. I wanted to scream, but my head, it felt like it was underwater. I kept distancing myself, until I slammed my back against the thick trunk of a tree. He closed in, his muscular frame trapping me between the tree, and him.

"Don't even think of touching me..." I warned him. He shrugged it off like a missed bullet. "I'm... warning... you..."

"I can see it in your eyes. You want me. You secretly do."

"The thing is, my Lord. I don't." I glared at him.

Slowly, he inched his face closer, his lips not far from mine. "Why deny the way you feel around me?" I was frozen, paralyzed. He tore me from the trunk of the tree, and pulled me into his embrace. I drank in the sweet smell of his cologne, his fragrance encompassing me in an odd sense of relief. "I care for you." He caressed the back of my head in soothing strokes. "Even if I'm not obvious."

His chest pressed to me, and mine pressed to his, he held me close for long, and languid seconds.

"Why are you acting like this?" I asked him.

"I can't hide it anymore. In this competition, I'm your enemy. But outside it, I can be something else."

I pushed him away, and shot a scowl. "No."

There was definitely an ulterior motive.