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Victoria Leal THE HEALER OF THE SERPENT FIRST PART—CHAPTER 2—

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2. The memories behind the veil. The Royal Palace once had a name but it was forgotten by all who in unconscious agreement ended up calling it this simple way. But what escaped being simple was the construction of the building, not even the oldest of the servants knew the hidden passages behind shelves or sculptures, being a challenge for any memory including the rats that sneaked in in summer because many of them lost their lives trying to get out through some hole or elusive hallway. The common detail of all the rooms in this palace was the fine and delicate decoration that the High Ones inherited because, for them, only that which is capable of sublimating the spirit has to remain in our homes. Knowing this, all the palace servants agree that the finest beauty praising the spirit resided in the high room, where each person went there in search of relaxation, contemplation or mere amusement. Or, sometimes, to discuss important matters such as that day when the kings participated in a fragile moment with the healer and his assistant, who served cold drinks to their masters heated by the end of spring and the entrance to summer. Adalgisa was the first to drink the fruit juice, reviewing her memories in search of her dream, the nightmare that haunted her all night. —It's difficult for me to describe exactly what his face was like because everything was shrouded in mist, except myself. King Albert laid her hand on her wife's, looking at her tenderly. —You can comment on your dream once I do, you will have time to remember. —Do it, my dear. Albert cleared his throat without letting go of his wife, knowing that the healer and his always hooded and mute helper would be able to interpret the nightmare. —Äweldüile, beloved healer of our infinite trust, listen and tell me what you think without hesitation. Last night, your king made his way down a cracked staircase, reaching a light-filled bedroom where a child slept. That creature was thin, I wanted to squeeze his bones and break them but I was unable. His eyes were clean, so pure that I fell at his feet, asking forgiveness for my machinations ... but I never dropped the dagger in my hands. And I ... poor creature... —What did you do, Your Majesty ... —I undressed the boy. I threw his blue garb into a pit and pushed him out the window. Naked I threw him to his thorns. Then the mist enveloped me and I was there, alone with my bloody dagger not knowing how to get home. That was the dream, that is the torture that struck my rest last night. The healer drank the fruit juice, sitting in front of the couch where the kings held their hands, intertwining their fingers. —It distresses me because the nightmares have been repeated for weeks. I feel something calling out to them, a spirit in the air whispers in the sacred language ... I can hear the word "Breugash" every morning ... —You assert, Your Majesty, that the spirit in the air calls you a liar ... —Yes, my dear Äweldüile.

Adalgisa placed her empty glass on the table in the center, lodging in her chest the eternal chill that the language of the Highs caused, declared sacred and spoken by no one except the Queen, the King, her son the Heir, and their servants Benedikt and Fritz. . —My sweet lady—The healer pampered the queen's cheek—Would you be so kind as to tell us your story so that we can collate it and have a broader spectrum of the situation? The queen plunged into the deep brown gaze of the healer who remained serene. —Äweldüile, I have dreamed the same. —Amazing… —But only last night I saw that child with the crown of leaves and golden peonies, the one inherited for my beautiful creature, my little Wilhelm. The one in my nightmare was playing a melody on a musical instrument not yet created by men. I do not hear the spirit of the air whisper to me, it is my mind that tries to make me remember a name: the identity of that child whom we threw out the window to the thorns. Or maybe we did something different to him, I don't know, but my certainty is that we hurt him, a wound so big that it still can't heal. The healer bent his long, pointed, jeweled ear to the lips of his hooded aide who was spelling out silent words, as if his voice had been abducted centuries ago. Äweldüile gave back a confident smile before offering more fruit juice to the majesties. —My dear kings whom I serve with joy. My assistant and I agree on the interpretation of your nightmare. —Speak then, good man, free my wife and your king from the anguish. —Have you ever thought, my good sirs, that this repetitive dream is a memory? —Memories? —I would never harm a creature with an innocent heart! It's just a nightmare, Äweldüile, a nightmare ... —Oh, my sweet lady, no one knows the true nature of man. We have an image that we teach the world, a second that we teach to those who trust us, and a third, that which we show no one: our true self, my sweet lady. Maybe that nightmare is screaming at you what is in your heart, and I say "maybe" to maintain our friendship because, to be honest ... The healer's assistant pulled an item from the saddlebag on his hip, handing it to his master. The elongated object wrapped in rustic burlap was left on the coffee table and was released by the king's hands, who flinched. It was Adalgisa who held the letter opener in her hands, noting a touch of dried blood on the edge. —What do you see in the reflection, Your Majesty? —I see ... I see myself. The queen threw the letter opener on the table, hiding her face in the neck of her husband who hugged her without doubt. The aide wrapped the letter opener, returning it to his saddlebag. —Äweldüile, that golden letter opener ...

—It belonged to a child very dear to us, Your Majesty. A child whom you do not remember because some compassionate right-hander threw him into the Forest of Oblivion instead of murdering him. —Is it the same from our dream? —I don't know, you haven't told me what he was like. —Long copper hair to the knees, big eyes like forest leaves, spotty skin and ... and ... —And? —For heaven's sake, no ... —I see you've already remembered, Your Majesty—Äweldüile filled the glass with iced juice, offering it up—Drink, calm down. It is the Month of the Sun and we will celebrate the entrance of summer and the ancient arrival of the High Ones to this world. You must smile, you must look happy and firm, Your Majesty. Tonight I will give you the strongest variation of your medicine so that you can continue your work without the burden of your cough. —Thank you… Adalgisa squeezed the healer's delicate hand without looking at him, the fear of the memory of her haunting her. —I want Wilhelm to be watched. I want him to always be under the eyes of someone, not to leave the castle until the month of the Sun ends. —If that is your wish, my sweet lady, what else can this servant do? —Thank you Äweldüile. Thanks to you and your assistant ... —Our thanks to you for your trust—The King smiled— Know that this is a secret, our beloved secret. —About that child, was his name written in the chronicles? —Oh ma'am, strange questions you ask me. I wish I could answer you with certainty and not with more doubts. —His name, I need his name to erase him as we did with so many others… Älmandur is ours and a child will not come to take away our beloved kingdom. —The kingdom? Madam, I believed that his son was more valuable than all the riches in the world. —It is… Wilhelm is… is my flesh, my offspring my… no one will take it from me. The healers rose to their feet synchronizing a deep bow of great respect before leaving the High Room always adorned with porcelain and gold sculptures on the walls. They murmured among themselves but only Äweldüile's voice was audible. They disappeared between curtains and doors encrusted with pearls and words in Sgälagan. Albert and Adalgisa embraced, they sought to hide from the memories emerging against their wills. —Albert, my love ... —Tell me, Ada. —I still have that book we found in the child's bedroom ... —Did you remember him? —Now that I saw that letter opener, the pieces of the puzzle have been arranged. —What will you do with that book?

—It belongs to the only High One of the Royal Family, my love. I will give it to Wilhelm as proof of our repentance. —Ada, they say the Highs have memories from before they were born, do you think our little Wilhelm ...? —No, I know not. If he remembered back so much he… he would hate us. The kings tightened their embrace closing their eyes to try to erase the memory that came fierce like the wolf lurking behind the bushes. —My boy… it took us so long to have him that the idea of imagining him far away slowly kills me. The only consolation was to think of the parties and the food, the music and the dance, since the kings did not wish to receive the memories that Wilhelm did not possess. Perhaps he was ignoring them because the busy reading of old or new texts did not leave space for memories? The little prince held the sculpted sheet of fine gold foil, observing every tiny corner with a wide smile. Beside him was Benedikt, on his knees on the ground to keep up with his young master. —If Frauke has jewelry like this she might not be so bland. —Moderate your language on you, Your Highness. —Do you think I can return this to her without anyone ...? Fritz pulled Benedikt's curly hair to his feet, taking the delicate jewel like a piece of trash tucking it into a pocket at his chest, under his gray tunic. —Your Highness, preparations for the party have begun. I would beg you to meet the king at this time. He looks forward to your presence in the High Room. —Give me that jewel back! —I'll give it to you when you complete your daily duties. I promise you that at nightfall, this jewel will return to your hands and you will dispose of it however you want. Benedikt scratched his head before pointing down the hallway leading to the room mentioned by his colleague who closed the door fitted next to him, door leading to the room where Frauke was embroidering a cushion in the company of Lotus. They both heard the creak of the lock but did not see the man who left them completely hermetic, using a shutter to seal the area. With the gesture of his right forefinger, Fritz drew in a clumsy-walking youth guard, who paid his respects to the bony man with a stoic salute. His face remained covered by a blue scarf like the tunic over his chain mail. —Stay here. Don't let the master get near the maidens. Much less Miss Klotzbach. —Yes sir! —Where are the others? —In conversations with their Majesties, sir. —Very well ... why are you covering your face? —Sir, I have a slight cold, don't worry. —Nobody likes to trust a man who doesn't teach his identity. The boy lowered his woolen scarf, showing a face flushed with coughing and irritation. The beardless boy taught too much youth by Fritz's standards. However, his thick copper eyebrows made up for the lack of facial hair.

—The current Älmandur abuses their children. Finished his task, the man in gray and eyebrows that fell like a small eaves over his eyes quickened his pace, catching up with his colleague and the young heir who stopped in his tracks when they reached the white wooden portico. The figure of a man in a cloak and a staff with an emerald on top reminded of the healer who lived in the palace tower. The prince was tracing the texture of the jewels of the man carved on the portico when Benedikt pushed the timbers. With counted steps the young man entered, looking in all directions because the room was empty. A quick turn of the head moved the hair of the one who seemed confused. —Fritz, are you kidding me? —Just wait a moment. Benedikt backed slowly behind his colleague, closing the doors. The little prince dressed in blue was examining the decoration of the curtains, the stale smell of some manuscripts on a desk, the backlit fluff that floated near the window ... Wilhelm noticed that the large table in the center of the room had a heavy tablecloth trimmed with lead tassels. The gold tablecloth was slightly slid to the left, a fact that bothered the young man's eyesight, who came over to correct the misfit of the cloth. While trying to move the tablecloth, Wilhelm noticed that the table was very intricately carved and adorned with emeralds. Slender fingers, rosy at the tips, glided over the wooden sculpture, encountering gleaming gilt metal that closed the hood of the man with the cane, the same character carved on the door of the room. —It's the same leaf that Fritz took from me ... At that moment, a woman dressed in white linen ran up to the boy, who received an intense hug that took the air out of him. —Where is my beauty? —Mother!—The young man turned around, blushing to the point of burning on his cheeks—Aren't you supposed to be ...? —Dressed? —Um… yeah. The woman knelt on the ground, accommodating some wrinkles in her son's clothes and turning him to speak to his face, noticing that the little one showed nasal bleeding. —I have time, no problem. And look at me I'm not naked, it's just a white dress. —You have summoned me? Adalgisa used a hidden fold of her pale dress to stem the bleeding from her little one. —Yes, my love… for heaven's sake, your nose again, can't you blush like everyone else does when embarrassed? —Sorry, is not that I can control it—Wilhelm held the cloth against his nasal septum, looking at his mother intently—May I know why you have summoned me? —I want to give you something very important and I don't have another moment to give it to you. —A gift? —Yes, early birthday.

—Mother, if there were any way to compensate you for your care and dedication, believe me, it would pay off that commitment. But a three months early gift seems to me ... —Just take it! The boy received a book that could fit in the palm of his hand, wrapped in green silk and that smelled of almonds instead of old pages. The silk was put on the table. The covers were also green and very rigid, adorned with gold filaments and blank pages. —Oh my… is it a diary? —More or less. —I don't get it, could you be more explicit? I beg you because I already keep a journal and starting another would make me lose my mind. —Did Fritz and Benedikt tell you about our ancestors? —They've only given me little hints on the matter. I suppose the story last night was much more interesting than what they have taught me. —Oh, this pair… surely Benedikt said something to Fritz to dissuade him. Okay, never mind, I'll talk to them about reading the right book for you and then you'll understand this one. —Very well. —My love—The woman pampered the child's soft pink cheek—I have so much to tell you, I hope you understand one day. —I hear my father's footsteps ... —Yes, he has to talk to you but I told Fritz to bring you a little earlier—The woman kissed the young man's cheeks—Oh, but you're so cute, a miniature heartthrob. —Miniature? But if I am already a man ... —That's what people say around here but something tells me that it will take you a little while to grow up. —Are the High Ones slow to grow? I thought it was only related to the ears, that explains why I look like a baby next to my cousin ... Hey, but if the children of High Ones looks the same as the children of this world, how can they be differentiated? —Well… —We are supposed to be High Ones but… Helmut does not carry your blood and is taller than a High of his age and is very good in battle and does well with the maidens because they all sigh when they see him and… I don't even know what did I say. Excuse me. —You'll find out later, little cloud. —Mother, how do I tell a newborn that is a human? Do we High have any brand at birth? Why do you have ears that are round and small like mine if you should already show the long and pointed ones of the family? —Well I'm going, I have to get ready. —See you soon, dear mother. Quickly the woman wrapped her hair around her arm running towards the white door that was totally opposite to the one the king used to enter the hall. The little one shrugged and pursed his lips, watching his mother disappear laughing, holding her white dress.

Once the door was closed, the queen let go of her hair and her dresses, raising her head and looking contemptuously at Benedikt and Fritz, who had their eyes glued to the ground. —What are you waiting for, lazy couple? —Your warning, sweet lady ... —Hush, Benedikt. The years have made you soft and ridiculous. And you, Fritz, what is your excuse? —None, sweet lady. —You better. —It's actually a simple fact. The woman arranged the strands of hair that covered her ears, taking care of the hairstyle just done by her maid. Her dark brown eyes fixed on Fritz's gray eyes, who looked up from the floor. —What fact are you are talking about? —The young man is not ready, my sweet lady. He is still very young. It would be cruel to inform you of such atrocities and, if you allow me to give my opinion ... —What do you think, be honest. —Don't you think it's better to say it in person? My emotions can influence the story. The queen pressed her lips together, releasing the air that constricted her heart. —It's better that he knows it through all of us. When will you start? —Maybe… when he turns fifteen. If we are lucky and the prince manages to mature a little. —Fifteen years… —Yes, Your Majesty. —Fritz, do you really think Albert will last two years? —The king… —Yes, it is serious. —What pains afflict our sovereign? The woman sighed, showing a concern that constipated her heart. —If you only could see his handkerchiefs you would know that blood flows from his throat every time he coughs. The healer has made every effort but he cannot find a cure. Everything he has done has only served to alleviate ills and extend his life long enough. —For his Royal Highness Coronation Ceremony. —Wilhelm must assume his duty, whether he is very young or immature, you will there to assist him. How I would like to do more for him, I can only become his right hand and guide him in his duties as king. Benedikt looked up from the ground, stroking the queen's cheek. —Your Majesty, don't you think we can make Hagen sovereign for a while? The woman, whose hair barely expressed a pale almond; tightly held the hand of the one who was trying to comfort her. The thought of her brother-in-law stirred his insides. —No. Wilhelm is the chosen one by the Highs, a direct descendant of the Älmandur raid. This land is his ... leaving him this rightful crown is a way to atone for our crime.

Don't even think of hinting at Hagen as someone you can trust, don't dare propose Helmut as a good substitute, is that clear? —Excuse my boldness. —You must begin NOW with the instruction. My little Wilhelm's wedding will be celebrated in two months from today, is that clear? In unison and using the same tone in the tired voices, Benedikt and Fritz lowered their eyes, responding. —Yes, sweet lady. The regal woman came across the corridor swiftly. She was almost landing her feet in the next room when Fritz touched her shoulder, leaving the gold leaf in the hands of her lady, who reviewed the figure cautiously. —Do you recognize it? The queen analyzed the fine gold sculpture, raising her eyebrows as she remembered the owner of the jewel. —It belongs to that child, his mother has sculpted this wonder… that woman… Täioiane. —My lady? —Is he alive? No, it can't be. Take care of my son. I don't want undesirables in his way. —It will be so, my lady. —Fritz, I imagine you took care of that young man just as the king requested. —What young, sweet lady? —I don't remember his name. For some strange reason I can't even find the face of him. But I feel in my chest his youth, the desire to live from him. Something tells me that he is close. —My lady, don't worry. —I can not do it! Take care of Wilhelm, nothing and no one should take him away from us. Nothing and no one must get him out of the capital of Älmandur or that will be our downfall! And get him away from the south wing library, we haven't erased enough names yet. Stories remain to be modified and our scribes hardly have time. Wilhelm has to be away from those texts, is that clear? Benedikt and Fritz stood in the dark in the red-carpeted living room, watching the jewel reflect the scant light from the draperies. Fritz held the gold leaf between his fingers, slowly walking away from his friend. —Was this really the only viable option to protect Älmandur's throne? Benedikt, answer me from your heart: did our master deserve what we did to him? Do you think he'll ever forgive us? Benedikt had his hands crossed behind his back, taking slow, silent steps until he was next to Fritz, who gave him the fine shiny metalwork. —Knowing the master, he probably won't even deign to speak to us. If he is alive, of course. —Something tells me that our master is in this world. This jewel is the proof. He surely has come to enjoy the Festival, to eat and drink, to dance and play his music… he is like that. The sadder he is, the more he wants to laugh.

—Indeed, this jewel is the proof, my dear Örnthalas. Only he has the jewels of the right-handed Mrs. Täioiane. We are unworthy of his gaze, we have earned it. —But Fritz, you have told the sweet lady that you took care of the child. —And I did, I left him in the Forest of Oblivion. For this reason, no one remembers his name, not even we who were his servants from his luminous birth. But his face will always be in my memory, his fear, his anger at being betrayed, his harsh words nailed in my heart. —But your duty was not to leave him in the forest ... —My duty was to cut his throat—Fritz's deep, rough voice broke, but he kept his composure by refusing to accept himself as a weak man—Don't think I didn't try, his blood slid down my hands ... —My dear Älthidon, do you think we have been pretending to be who we are for a long time? —I ask you, Örnthalas, would you be able to take the life of a child who fixes his eyes on yours even knowing that a dagger slices his life? —Älthidon… —Tell me Fritz, I'm Fritz now. No more is said on the matter. The companions in crime left the corridor where doubts ate their hearts, they advanced with a heavy stride through the wings of the palace until they reached the place where they were required. Between their turns, they were forced to walk down the hall where family portraits adorned the ancestor gallery. The updated picture of the young master was ready but his presentation would take place at the coronation ceremony, at which point the painting of his young wife would be added to his side. Fritz and Benedikt noted the absence of several portraits under the guise of restoration or change of frame. The men noticed that four portraits lay in the darkness of the hallway being illuminated by a stream of playful light crossing the drapery. Fritz lifted the veil that covered the paintings, recognizing the faces of two couples formerly loved by their subjects, now forgetful, as if a spell had fallen on the lands. Under the finely beautiful faces the names of each were carved. —Äntalmärnen, Täioiane… Orophël, Lïnawel… —Fritz, leave the veil in his place—Benedikt lowered his friend's hand, covering the portraits again with the cloth made of winter sky stars—It's time to review the final preparations. Fritz obeyed the advice of his friend, lengthening his strides to get to the correct room as soon as possible, finding servants crowding between trays and delicacies running impatiently to finalize the arrangements in the room. Wilhelm entered wearing only a white shirt and battered greaves. He marveled with the floral decorations and the dashing men in chain mail arranged in the corners and doors. The boy was smiling with pleasure under the lights of the large candles when Benedikt put his hand on his shoulder. —Little Highness, why are you dressed as a beggar? —These are my training clothes, I doubt a beggar has a chance to get such a useful outfit.

—We're not going to rehearse with the sword today. You have dirt on your shoulders and the knees of your pants are torn, where have you been? You have wild hair and your nose bleeds. Are you going to confess to me that you were training with your cousin? He could kill you! —Beni, how nice everything is!—Wilhelm turned quickly, smiling, spreading his arms and ignoring his servant—I am pleased to be a spectator of such beauty. —Could you do me the HUGE favor to come with me and dress for the occasion? You need more than one bath. Little Highness, did you go with Helmut to get shaken on the ground? —Yes, I did. Helmut has left me bruises on my back because I fell incorrectly but nothing serious. Again, he let himself win, he feigned pain in his side but I know I didn't even tickle him. —My Little Highness, Master Helmut is convalescing from an ax wound, he should be resting in bed, not practicing with his sword. Oh, that boy wants to die young. The retinue of busy servants brought Fritz closer to his master as Wilhelm looked at him happily. —Fritz! Do you think that Squire of his has insisted? When I got to the area they were practicing a joint attack. —I would say it was the other way around, Nikola is a little smarter than Helmut— Fritz looked at the prince with his eyes without finding any significant injuries or blows— I will ask you not to insist on such activities, if you want the health of your relative. —Excuse me, I totally forgot! —You have to offer an apology to your injured cousin. —Damn, so he really felt pain when I hit him with my wooden sword, he wasn't acting... —Did you hit him even though he is convalescing? —Obviously, we were practicing, but he's very strong! I swear to you, he has let himself be won! —Oh, that explains the scrape on your arm, did you go to have Äweldüile clean up that mess of blood and dirt? Come with me, you have to change your clothes NOW. For the High Ones, you can't be neglected for a second. —Beni, there are grapes on the table and sweet cinnamon buns! Wilhelm mingled with the servants trying to find out what was going on. The moment he reached out to enjoy some grapes, Fritz grabbed his wrist. —These children of today who do not respect anyone—Fritz turned ignoring the whims of his master, secretly smiling while talking with his colleague—Benedikt, I need to refine some details with His Majesty, take charge of the procedure. —I'll take care of our Little Highness. —Here—The man in gray took out an espadrille hidden in one of the pockets of his long tunic—In case you need it. —At your command. —Again? I'm old enough to take espadrilles, after Helmut's shakes, I can take anything!

—Oh yes, you think so, Little Highness. Benedikt grabbed the boy, reaching for the table, leading him to the other end of the —Beni, I'm going to take a bath and change, why are you pulling me? —Because if you are not ready, we are the ones who receive the punishments, Little Highness. The boy laughed as he struggled with his servant to be dragged harder. Benedikt was pulling the arm insistently but it gave way when the child used a piece of furniture to pull in the opposite direction. The man in red laughed as the carpet began to buckle as he tugged on the arm of the heir who insisted on playing until Benedikt let go of him only to see him defeated on the ground. Wilhelm's smile disappeared as he saw himself flying down the corridor, hitting a person, who fell with a crash. The prince was on the ground clutching his belly laughing when Benedikt arrived to pick him up, watching the poor boy on the other side. —Young sir, excuse us. Wilhelm got to his feet and was trying to adjust his shirt when Benedikt helped the boy up. —Is it usual to have fun like this in the palace? —Am ... sir, excuse my ... —Excuse? I would love to live here if we will spend the days in this way. My palace is quite gloomy, the Lotus smile is the only light in our days. Wilhelm smiled, holding out his hand in greeting. Before him was Lotus's older brother, a young man with a kind expression and fine features, smooth hair always braided and tied with a bright purple ribbon, the same color used in his clothes. Frail in build, the young man made up for his effeminate appearance with the power of a sword chanted from a dangerous dagger. Wilhelm remembered that this man before him was also a Knight in his service. —My dearest Marquis Sebastian Klotzbach, it is an immense honor to receive you in my humble abode. I am sorry to greet you in such a way that is not worthy of your stamp. —Your Highness, the honor of being pushed by you has no name, the purple on my head will have its own name. The prince laughed, letting Benedikt grab him by the shoulders. —You have caught us in games that delay me in my work. Now I have to apologize for this moment, in which I must withdraw. —Take your time as you please, Your Highness. Sebastian bowed with a friendly smile before Wilhelm relaxed his back, taking a step forward. —Dear ... Marquis... —At your service, Your Highness. —Could we be less formal about our dealings outside of the party? It's just that I find it exhausting. The young man in purple robes jumped at the frail nature of a prince with wild hair and dirt stuck to his cheeks. Upon careful and sneaky examination, Sebastian found traces of blood on his left arm, evidence of poor defense against a swift enemy.

—How do I speak to you, my lord? —Just call me by my name." —Don't you want me to remind you that ...? —No, no, no ... I already know who I am, I don't need to be reminded all the time. Is that okay with you, Sebastian? —Um ... sure, whatever you want. So I'm just Seba. —Very good, and now that we are in confidence—Wilhelm rolled up his sleeves, placing his hands on his hips—May I know what the hell you're doing in this hall? Benedikt raised an eyebrow as he heard his master squeeze his right shoulder, whispering into the boy's ear. —Master, why so severe? —He is my wing of the palace and I have not invited him. Sebastian cleared his throat, sharpening his voice. —My dear sister has been talking to Miss Frauke and I suspect they are in your library. I'm looking for both. —You could have sent someone, right? The young man in purple maintained a firm position, admiring the change in the appearance of the boy in front of him, who despite being without dress and disheveled; exuded deserved authority. —Sorry for breaking into your abode in this way. —I gave permission for the ladies to be in my library. What's more, they can raffle the entire palace if they want to. Let them have fun for a bit. —Right, my lord. I mean, Wilhelm. —Now go away, please. Wilhelm waved his hand in the air, pointing to the door that led to a corridor connecting to the south wing. Sebastian repeated the bow, leaving in silence. Benedikt took a couple of steps back, admiring his master as he resumed his steps toward where the maids were waiting for him in the correct attire for the nightly celebration. —Beni, open those ears wide. —I hear you. —I don't want Sebastian under my roof. The man in red followed his master, smiling maliciously. —Your Highness, may I know his reason for the trouble? —I just don't want to see him. —Could it be that he is jealous because young Klotzbach sees Miss Lotus every day of his life? Wilhelm stopped short, using his long, slender forefinger to silence his servant. —Do not say that again. They are brothers. —I'm sure you would like to have such a deep bond with the young lady. —Of course! But not like his brother, precisely. —As a friend? —I'm not that stupid.

—Your Highness, if you want to get closer to the young lady, I recommend that you associate with Sebastian. If there is a border to cross, it is not Master Estuardo Klotzbach, father of our beloved Lotus ... —I got the message. —Glad to hear that, master. —Is that why the poor lady is still without a fiancée? —Dare I say… yes. —What crazy things you say, I was joking. —Sebastian is not one to be taken as a joke, Your Highness... and neither is your cousin. —Okay, I won't force Helmut to practice. —That was not what I meant, my young master. They are both lethal, keep good relations with them. You require them as allies, Little Highness. Wilhelm fixed his eyes on those of Benedikt, who smiled placidly, hiding the malice of knowledge. —Beni ... —You said you were “grown up”. Well, since you are designated as an adult, you know that your cousin is interested in Miss Klotzbach. And, according to my observations, that interest is perfectly reciprocated. It's only a matter of time before ... —Enough! I'll talk to them and check those rumors of yours. —Well, as you prefer, Little Highness. Just remember that your engagement is hot on your heels, and if you want to speak to Miss Klotzbach or your cousin, be quick. I only warn you that this will not change your situation, you will continue to be Miss Frauke Von Freiherr's fiancée even if a star falls from the sky. The boy clenched his fists, keeping his straight and firm spine won by practice. Confusing ideas flitted through his mind about protocols, parties, when to talk and what to talk, how to smile and to whom. He sighed without looking at Benedikt, who was hiding his hands between his sleeves, noticing that his little one was actually growing before his eyes. —Beni—Wilhelm stopped in his tracks, turning his back on his faithful friend in red—Did you choose this life? —Forgive my clumsiness, what do you mean? —From a very early age I have been taught composure, save my comments, measure my gestures, talk to this or that but deep down, I feel that I am not cut out for this. Lying, conspiring, listening to murmurs and assuming things is ... horrible, a very heavy load that I do not want to carry. —My dear— Benedikt wanted to pamper the boy's shoulder four strides away but he stopped, hesitant—That's part of being king. Indeed, it is a very great duty for only one shoulder, that is why we are here, we are the pillars that reinforce the roof of his future government, Little Highness. Guide us as you believe. —Deep down I know I wasn't made for that Crown— Benedikt raised his long ears hidden in the tangle of curly hair, swallowing his words—I don't know, it's like a distant whisper, the echo in a cavern without light. There is someone inside and that someone is ... is ... someone forgotten.

—Your Highness, I understand your discomfort and your doubt because you have been given many duties lately— Benedikt urged the boy to continue advancing through the corridors, holding his hand on the young master's elbow—One step at a time. Wilhelm nodded silently as he found himself reflected in jugs adorning the corner they had to advance through, gilt jugs decorated with rubies and emeralds that were also in the kitchen, clearly smaller but equally in beauty and brilliance. They were loaded with sweet wort, placed on trays, and carried to the counter where a man in sky blue poured some of the liquor into a glass. Each vase was inspected by the man who perceived the aromas with all his senses, throwing the content into a barrel when giving approval to it. However, one of the vases was pushed aside by the man. —Discard it. Behind him, a servant made notes in a minute book, admiring the tenacity of his master in inspecting even the delicacies about to be put on the table. The discarded vase was taken by a maid, who threw the wort down the drain. —Master, you are incredible. —Just my job. —For purposes of the record only, my lord, why have you discarded that liquor and not the others? —From that vase the Majesties drink. Someone added a portion of the No Eagerness mushroom. —Wow, I didn't know it could be detected so easily. —It's not—The man with sky blue and long, waist-length hair made sure the new wort in the vase was clean by observing the maid—I thank the High Ones for sharpening my senses. The servant wrote down the necessary items in the maroon cover book before his master inspected the roast meats arranged in perfect medallion cut on silver trays adorned with translucent jewels. The cook cut a piece of pork, holding it close to the sculpted nose of the man, who detested the aroma of meat. —Sir, please don't make faces at my food. —Excuse me, it's just that I hate the smell of a corpse. My nose has involuntarily wrinkled, I'm sure your blessed hands cooked a wonderful dinner. Ignore my gesture and do not worry, everything is in order. —Of course it is! —Don't be offended but one of your maids has No Eagerness in her pockets and she has dared to contaminate my dear King's drink. So, without further ado, I will ask you to gather all of your subordinates because my lackey will examine them to the last pocket. The cook left the steak knife on the counter clapping her hands in the air to summon all the women in charge of organizing the delicacies at the table, bringing them together in a perfect row shoulder to shoulder. The young women in pale yellow uniforms stood low in silence. From time to time someone would look at her partner

from the corner of her eye, making a suspicious gesture but nothing serious, it was a simple beginner curiosity. The Seneschal's servant reached out where he held his minute book, taking a deep breath and puffing out his chest to look more imposing or dashing, who knows. He stood in front of the servants, frightened by the cold gaze of the crossed arms Seneschal, who did not emit a voice. Finally, the servant cleared his throat, speaking in a great tone. —Ladies, my master, Seneschal Ritter zum Neuenthurm, faithful to the crown of Älmandur, has one mission: to protect the integrity of our Majesties. For this, he has been asked ... —Less pomp, please. To the point. —Um ... yes, sir. Excuse me. As he told you, Master zum Neuenthurm has the mission of ... —Someone seeks to create a deep sleep for our Majesties by using a large portion of No Eagerness in the drink— The servant shielded his chest with the book, stepping back behind his master—The maiden who confesses her crime will be pardoned and interrogated for know the mind behind the idea. If you decide to be silent at this time, your right hand will be cut off. The cook opened wide eyes, grabbing the wooden spoon from hers to beat it at the dull gaze of the Seneschal. —Poor of your ass if you do something like what you just said, you cocky little boy! —Ma'am, put down your weapon— Ritter took the spoon and gently settled it back on the counter—If you want to keep your hand, you should only urge your subordinates to behave like the good girls that they are. My lackey will take care of it, I have more noble tasks. —Typical of you, leaving the dirty dishes to others. —My dear cook, we know you are very skilled at your job. Your absence from the palace would cause us great pain. —Are you planning to cut off my girls hands? The Seneschal had his hands folded behind his back, he walked slowly towards the sideboard that kept the meat cleavers. The cabinet was opened, taking that knife with the greatest weight and edge. —You're wrong, no one will hurt anyone if there is a good disposition. My lackey will just record the incident and give me a report. I like to take care of my work as diligently as possible. If I did not love my work, I would not be in the kitchen, impregnating myself with the stenches of such a place. The line of servants remained silent and orderly, even as the Seneschal advanced toward a girl in a white apron. The man in sky blue grabbed the girl's right hand, analyzing the structure of her fine bones. —A delicacy of skin. It would be a shame. But do not fret, this will be so fast that you will not be able to feel it. The girl looked away from her to the opposite side, clenching her teeth as her friend hugged her. The Seneschal was sinking the edge of the knife when a maiden stepped forward, always with her head down.

The lackey looked at the maid's face, writing her name down in her minute book. —I am delighted by her honesty— Ritter handed the knife to the overwhelmed cook, who accepted the object silently—Please join us. Silently, the maid nodded, being led by the servant into a room downstairs. —I appreciate the immense cooperation, you are very kind. I will reward your honesty and fidelity. You have my word—The Seneschal bowed deeply, placing his hand on the center of his chest, smiling—At the end of this day you will receive an incentive that your families will appreciate. Until then, I hope your kind dexterity continues. Coordinated, the women in pale yellow uniforms responded with the same gesture. The women were gathered around an invisible point, whispering cruelties against the daring contaminating food and, at the same time, regretting not being skilled enough to obtain a fungus so effective that could freed them from the palace yoke. The group was dispersed when the cook slammed her wooden spoon against the counter, shouting the slowness to arrange the trays on the tables already adorned with tablecloths. The uproar allowed the Seneschal to follow a path down the stairs, hidden behind a closet full of silverware moved by the faithful servant who never neglected the treacherous maiden. The passageway was built in a snail, losing light as one advanced through the gnawed steps of damp stone and with a musty taste that not even the rats enjoyed, since they moved away for each step that the Seneschal took, wrinkling their noses at the sight so unpleasant to the senses. A brief march of about five unpleasant minutes culminated in front of a wooden door held by ancient iron bolts already blackened, a place where the servant affirmed herself, as if she knew the fate that awaited her behind that portico but she did not show fear. —Sir, you are formidable—We managed to get the traitor to give herself away on the first try, I congratulate you on her unexpected tactic. —Try to reward the little girl that she didn't cry when she felt the edge of that knife on her beautiful innocent skin. She is brave, record her name. —Yes sir, I will… and if you will allow me, I will reserve a special profit for the Head Chef, she always helps us but now she has shown excellent poise. —The lady is a good actress, I should hire her for my theater company. —Excuse my daring, my lord—The lackey opened the portico, rummaging through a bunch of copper and shredded keys, pushing the maiden in yellow inside—But have you ever thought of a possible failure? —Failure? Are you suggesting that, in some strange situation, a maiden would let her hand or tongue cut off? —Yes, sir, that's what I say. —Can be. Someone with such deep-rooted loyalty is understandable, I would let them do it to me myself if I can protect the king and the wife from him. If I was ever punished for treason I would accept it honorably, even if my life was taken as payment. —Sir, you surprise me but ...

—What is your doubt? —It is one thing to say what can be done and quite another is to do it. Now you tell me that you would accept death, but would you really do it, being under the edge of the sword? The lackey noted the hard expression of the silent master, swallowing hard at the honest response of a ruthless man. He lit the only available candle in the room where the maiden was shielded against a stone wall. Next to her hung iron implements and they seemed dirty with garnet crusts but no artifact managed to break her pale face, it seemed that a spell kept her stoic as the rock hit by the power of the waterfall. Stains on the wall evidenced a previous life in that cell, the stench showed the cruelty of a savage interrogator, this strange mixture of circumstances subdued the voice of the young lackey and his book, which was placed on the table. —My lord, I will speak to the maid, lose care. —Very well. It's up to me to get ready for the party, I know you'll do the right thing. Please let me know if you require my assistance. Notify me of everything. —I wouldn't dare interrupt your fun, my dear master ... trust me, please. —Well, what else to say? Success. —See you soon sir, enjoy your dinner—The servant reached out to stop his master from touching his shoulder subtly—One last question, sir. —Talk. —Are you sure the vase of poisoned wort belonged to the kings? I would swear by my newly formed family that it was our prince's vase. —I'm a custodian of the royal family. The prince is our future, I give my neck for that child. Now, I beg you to stop your questions or I will put you out of work, which would be a shame for your wife and daughter. —Yes sir. My apologies. The broad-shouldered man turned up the stairs as the lackey closed the portico, sitting in a chair facing the table that could be broken by the mere breeze that could sneak into that basement. On the other side of her was the maiden, between contained tears and eyes of fire, she tightened her skirts, fixing her gaze on the young servant. —Hey, I don't like this either. But it is better that I do it because my master is a little… clumsy. You speak and I assure you that he spares your life.

The Healer of the Serpent—Chapter 2—