- - -
"What is wrong with our son?"
King Henry winced at the icy voice of his wife. He really wished that she would stop barging into his office unannounced, but he certainly wasn't going to bring it up with her.
"What do you mean, my dear?"
Queen Josephine stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest, with a natural regality that made the king shrink on his throne. The beauty of her auburn hair and green eyes had not faded with age since when they were wed, in fact, the years of power had only made her more magnificent, intimidating his love for her into obedience.
"He left a meeting early yesterday, and his servants said he seemed faint," the queen strode across the room to his desk, leaning over him. "This has never happened since… he was old enough to attend meetings of matter. Not that he was never sick, but that our physicians and priests, and his own strength, have always been able to carry him through."
King Henry gulped. "I don't know, my dear. He is-"
"Of course you wouldn't," Queen Josephine snapped. "You're too busy avoiding your responsibilities to spare a care in the world for your own children. Alas, it's too peculiar; there must be something. Are you sure you haven't let anyone into the castle, or made any enemies that you haven't told me about?"
"No," King Henry shook his head, desolate. "You know I tell you everything. Perhaps he is just distressed, with the upcoming demon subjugation and the almost assassination of Lady Valentina. He's strong, but he's still young."
"He's handled more than this before," Queen Josephine frowned. She sighed and sat across from him, and the king let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. They were on the same side now, against a common, unknown opponent. However, her next words made him stiffen again.
"I think it's been going on for a while now, and do you know what I've resorted to?" she leaned in. The motherly desperation in her eyes was a rare look on her. "I've summoned Lady Valentina's apprentice 'doctor' from Zeryn."
King Henry's blood ran cold as he mechanically reached out to grip his wife's hands. "You've done what?"
"I don't know what else to do," Queen Josephine confessed frantically. "We've had our best physicians and priests. Perhaps it is something only the technology of Zeryn would pick up, and I couldn't have a foreigner examine Oscar. We should've stood up to the temple and established formal relations with Zeryn to send our own students. The Avington girl was smart for that."
King Henry didn't know how to process this information, so he went along the only line he could think of as he awkwardly patted his teary wife on the head. "I thought you hated the Avington girl."
"Well, I never liked her, but half of that was a show for Oscar," she admitted. "I didn't want him getting too comfortable, and you have to be harsh with children to get the message across. Nevertheless, the rumours about him and the Bryant girl disgusted me to such an extent that I decided she's not really that awful in comparison."
King Henry swallowed. "You don't like the Bryant girl, then?"
"Goodness, no!" Queen Josephine rolled her eyes. "Even before the murder attempt, she's too weak. A king needs a queen with a strong will, so he will not have to shoulder everything alone, but Valentina is too willful. Indeed, it's difficult to find a balance, but it is likely easier for Oscar to manage a wife than to bear the weight of a kingdom by himself. Not to mention the Bryant girl's history!"
King Henry nodded emphatically, wishing more and more that his wife was king instead of him. In what he tried to justify as saving his son from a fate similar to his, had he condemned him to one even worse? He couldn't think about that.
"I have to get going," Queen Josephine checked her pocket watch and stood, but the king didn't let go of her hand. She took a look at his pleading expression, smiled slightly, and leaned to kiss him on the forehead. It gave King Henry a surge of bravery.
"Don't worry about Oscar, dear," he kissed the back of her hand. "I'll make sure everything is fine."
- - -
"What is wrong with my son?"
"Hm, how about the fact that my daughter is imprisoned based on false accusations, and Your Majesty hasn't done anything about it?"
The baron tapped his foot on the marble floors of the king's office, annoyed. The king had turned down all his urgent demands for a meeting after the ordeal, only to summon him after he took matters into his own hands. What could he want now that he didn't already know?
"It's having noticeable effects on him," the king bristled, his chest all puffed up. "You can't keep doing this however you want. They're starting to catch on."
"Then deal with it," Baron Bryant sneered. "As you should've done long ago. Do you want my further reassurance that he'll recover once this is over? Do you want me to simply sit back and watch while they execute my daughter? We've come too far for it to all go to waste now! I did a little trick, that's all. As I've told you, the side effects are expected, but his body will overcome them eventually. In fact, even sooner if you just give me what you've promised."
"How?" the king cried. "We've waited too long, thanks to you, and now it's too late! There is nothing more we can do. Call it off, and I'll find a way to spare your daughter."
"No," the baron said calmly as he stood up, straightening his overcoat. "Your Majesty will find a way to carry out everything that we've planned, for over a decade. After all, in my humble opinion, it's better to go down in history as a blasphemer than to be persecuted and dethroned for regicide."
King Henry's confident air deflated as the baron walked out without another glance.
- - -
"What is wrong with His Highness?"
Lady Sophia muttered to herself as she readied the vials of strange concoctions. A private drawing room reserved exclusively for the monarchs had been granted as her temporary laboratory, where the samples she took from the prince would finish testing overnight. She made sure the vials were properly labelled and documented, locked up, and left for the night. Guards stood outside the door, ensuring that there would be no external tampering of any kind.
A bookshelf shifted soundlessly inside the empty room, revealing the doorway of a secret tunnel. The castle was filled with these from days of conflict, many long forgotten, but the jaded king had once been a boyish prince who longed for escape. Though never did he imagine he would use one for this purpose, dragging along an old prisoner on top of it all, who he now brought to the work station the young doctor had set up.
"Marvellous…" the ragged, shackled man breathed as he examined the notes the lady left behind. "To think technology has improved this much in just… how long has it been…?"
"Can you do it or not?" the king whispered.
The elderly scholar had been locked away in Orilon's dungeons for as long as the king could remember. He had been sent to Zeryn as one of Orilon's numerous failed attempts to establish relations, and imprisoned shortly after his return at the insistence of the temple for his apparently heretical activities.
"Yes, yes," the man waved a hand dismissively. "Do not worry, Your Majesty. They did not call me a prodigy back in my days for nothing. Your prince's panel will appear perfectly princely."
Watching him work meticulously with the foreign supplies, the king could see why the temple condemned him. The mesmerizingly cold precision was more reassuring than the mysterious holy powers of the temple or the natural herbs of Orilon's physicians. If Henry were a better king, he might've insisted this science be shared with the nation. Alas!
Indeed, if he were a better king, he would not be in such a tricky predicament. On one hand, he wanted to run to Josephine and confess his sin of concealment and beg her to fix everything. On the other hand, the thought of her wrath at discovering the plans he'd hidden for all these years was too terrifying. Though he preferred not to dwell on it, the idea of his queen removing him, should he be an obstacle, had more than crossed his mind. Besides, what little remained of his pride after the years of emasculation from his wife still strived to prove that he was capable of achieving something by himself.
Yes, this was necessary. He had to trust that Oscar would be strong enough and overcome while he planned his next steps. And what were those next steps? Well, the priority was that Josephine must not find out, which he was presently dealing with. Then what? Salvaging the situation and destroying House Avington seemed quite impossible. Unless…? He swallowed and twisted his signet ring. Had it come to that…? No, it was too grave a decision for him to make, affected too much. He would just have to take it one day at a time until a solution surfaced…
- - -
"There is nothing wrong with His Highness."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. His cortisol levels… There are indicators that he has been under a lot of stress for a prolonged period of time, but otherwise, he seems to be in perfect health except for a cold causing the headaches. I have some drugs for it, if Your Majesty would like, but even Orilon's treatment methods should be sufficient."
Lady Sophia judged that her answer had disappointed the queen. It had disappointed herself, too. Despite the numbers being perfectly reasonable, and her having been brought up on science, her intuition from her years of studying and shadowing had suggested some underlying condition with the prince.
"If Your Majesty would permit it, I would like to rerun some of the tests, along with several new ones."
"No, that won't be necessary," the queen said calmly. "Your so-called science is supposed to be known for being deterministic, and I have given it a chance. Thank you. You may take your leave."
Lady Sophia curtsied and left. Perhaps that was not the best introduction to technology for the sovereign, but that sounded more like a problem for Lady Valentina. She learned in Zeryn what had become of some of her predecessors from Orilon, so she knew not to push her luck.
Still, the results, if true, were unsatisfying to her, and if false, had implications beyond her scope. She just hoped that the health of the poor prince or anyone, for that matter, was not caught up in some political scheme. That would be quite silly, in her opinion.