Prince

The Chief rushed into the royal chambers, and the Prince barely suppressed a groan. “What now, Gardric?”
“Sire, it’s a matter of grave importance! Is the King near?”
“He’s riding horseback in his forest. In the meantime, I’m listening.”
“Someone has attacked the port of Hantas! Nearly half of the docked boats burned, on the east end of the port. There was nothing my officials could do but cut the others on the west end loose. Some of those were lost, as well.”
“Hantas...” Taréz tried to picture the place in his mind, but remembered he hadn’t ever been there. “That’s a port town on the north shore, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“And it’s roughly half light and half dark?”
“Yes, Sire. It is noteworthy that the burned ships were nearly all owned by the dark citizens.”
“Ah. And so, the drifting boats were owned by light Vle?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“One might say that the tactic of cutting them loose was an unnecessary act of revenge.”
“Revenge is rarely unnecessary.”
“I thought you might say so.” Taréz paused. “How did your subordinates respond?”
“Well, they immediately declared martial law, of course. All light Vle were summarily rounded up and sent on their way.”
Taréz pursed his lips. On the face of it, it was the best response. Still...
The Librarian entered. “I understand there was another event today?”
Gardric rounded on him. “How did you know?”
“Chief, it’s written in your stance and stride when you arrive with big news. The servants notice things like that. Now, about that event?”
“The port of Hantas suffered arson. The boats owned by dark Vle were burned, while most of those owned by light Vle were saved.”
Furns scribbled it all down, and then paused, looking up. “How did it happen that light Vle boats remained safe?”
“Different side of the harbor.”
“Indeed?”
The prince perked up— it seemed the librarian didn’t quite believe the story.
The old Vle continued. “That’s very interesting. Why should a harmonious town segregate their boats?”
The Chief shrugged. “How should I know? I simply received the report from my subordinate. He didn’t comment on the sociology of the town.”
“Oh, it was a rhetorical question— I didn’t expect you to know. Now, I suppose that the light Vle may have preferred a different design, requiring different size docks... Yes, that would be possible... Very well. Thank you. Sire?”
“Dismissed,” Taréz said. Normally, it was with a smile, but this time he was too deep in thought to smile.

Taréz took his accustomed spot before the ball to watch the guests arrive. It was rather depressing, because a drastically reduced number of guests would be there that evening, according to Stecky. This was the one he’d been waiting for for a month, but now he dreaded it.
All were fashionably late, of course, and there was the usual sudden clump of coaches in the drive. The clump itself, however, was smaller, and he noted the lack of any southern or eastern nobles. Some may indeed have had the excuse of not being able to afford to come, but certainly not Varabia. It was a message of non-support.
The King’s sigh floated down from upstairs shortly before the first of the nobles entered. They received their greetings from Stecky, and filed into the ballroom. The chamber orchestra then struck up the music.
But it wasn’t the best music, Taréz noted as his parents came out onto the balcony. Some of the usual company were currently ‘camping’; others had quit in protest of the proclamation. They had been some of the best in the land.
“Welcome,” the King said to those assembled below (all dark-skinned, of course). “I know that we all have things weighing heavily on our minds. Some of us may feel that it is hardly right to have this ball at all. In part, that is precisely why I held it anyway. This is, after all, the season of Grange, when we celebrate our joys, and leave behind our worries. So let’s do exactly that! I now pronounce this ball— Granged!” He said it with a fervor which Taréz felt he probably did not have.
The chamber orchestra was supposed to hit a loud, high, triumphant note, but they missed their cue and came in late. Taréz could see a shadow of despair and disgust on his parents’ faces. But from that note, they went on into the first song, and a few began to dance. Taréz looked around for Pimber, but another young nobleman had already asked the favor of a dance. He had every right and power to cut in, but chose not to, and found another young noblewoman.
It was more than a little strange to be out on the dance floor this time, however. For one thing, there was plenty of room to spin his partner around. On the other hand, he felt everyone’s eyes on him. Oh, they always watched the Prince of the kingdom, but somehow the press of Vle on a busy dancefloor made the watching imperceptible. Now, he felt as if he was putting on a show, a show of festivity that no one else wanted to join.
After ten songs, (and before he could get around to Pimber) the chamber orchestra took their first break. It was normally the first opportunity for some to leave early if they so wished. Taréz watched as two left, followed by a few more, and then a whole group left. Finally, everyone was walking out before the chamber orchestra even came back.
“Pimber, a moment?”
She looked back at him, with an apologetic look. “Another time, Taréz.” And she stepped out the door, leaving the hall empty.

It wasn’t exactly a princely thing to do, but Taréz slumped in his chair. The royal chambers were quiet in the absence of his mother, who was away on vacation in Baldia. Yis was still at the camp with the rest of the light Vle; and so was Gardric, who had seemingly set up a permanent base there.
He stood up and went to the window. Outside, the South Hall sat waiting to be completed, its funds and constructors diverted to the camp. It was another beautiful, sunny day, and a number of his servants were outside in the gardens and enjoying the warm sun. Without guests, there wasn’t much to do; with the army on alert or guarding the camp, there was no one to train with.
In fact, the only thing he could think of to do was go to the camp and visit Yis again. At least the driver would have something to do. He looked over at his father, still slumped on his own chair. “I was thinking we should go visit the camp.”
“The camp? No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“I think you need to see it, Father. See what you’ve created.”
“How can I face Yis?”
“Like a Vle.”
“Ouch! You win. Call the driver.”
The servant was on the lawn below, so Taréz opened the window. “Driver! Ganning!”
The middle-aged Vle was startled, and it took a moment before he was looking in the right direction. “Yes, Sire!”
“I’m going to the camp.”
“Yes, Sire, I’ll have the coach ready in half an hour—”
“Ten minutes max, Driver.”
“Yes, Sire.” The man dashed toward the door, then back for his coat, and then inside.
Taréz felt a bit better, now that there was something to do, but he’d still have to wait the ten minutes before the coach was ready, and the time for the coach to get him there. In the meantime, would his father end up changing his mind about the proclamation? They continued to chat while waiting.
The driver himself appeared breathless at the door. “The coach is ready, Sires, though I cannot guarantee it will be to your complete satis—”
“Yes, yes, that’s fine,” Said the King. “This is not a long distance trip.”
Ganning led the way down to the front door, before which the coach was ready and waiting. He opened the door to the coach, and the King heaved himself in. Taréz followed carefully, folding his frame through the door. With a click, the driver closed the door and went up to the front. A lurch and they were off.

When the two arrived at the observation platform and looked out the window, Taréz was stunned. There had been some progress on building, but most of the light Vle still did not have a roof over their heads. There seemed to be almost no room to move around. The fence had not been extended, and the piles of household items were very, very tall now. And yet more light Vle arrived.
“Sire! I was not expecting you.”
Taréz turned when he heard Gardric’s voice. The Chief looked somewhat hurt and uncomfortable.
“Oh?” replied the King. “Is there some reason I must warn you before I go somewhere? Let you know, so you can adjust appearances? I think not. It’s my kingdom, Gardric.”
“Of course, Sire. It’s just that I would have prepared a reception for you, an inspection tour.”
“Well, the next time I’m in the mood for that, I shall warn you first. But for now, I wanted to see how things are coming.”
“Rough, Sire. Our lack of money is slowing things down. We cannot keep up with arrivals’ needs.”
“You can slow down the rate of arrivals.”
“For security reasons, I found it best to execute this plan as quickly as possible.”
“At the expense of the comfort of our guests, Gardric. Now, I know you don’t like light Vle, but at least humor me in this. Either slow down their arrivals, or triple— no, quadruple the construction speed. Oh, and extend the walls.”
“But, Sire, we don’t have the money—”
“I didn’t think we were paying them anything.”
“Of course not, Sire! But, materials—”
“I don’t care anymore. We’ll either print or mine or borrow the money. My concern is those below.”
Gardric didn’t reply to that, though he seemed about to. Taréz was about to ask him what was on his mind when he spoke. “Very well, Sire. I shall hire more workers in the morning.”
“Right now.”
“Very well, Sire.” The Chief of the Army snapped his fingers, and an aide appeared. “Tell Fesson to quadruple the workforce.”
“Fesson, sir?” asked the aide with a bewildered look.
“Yes, Fesson! Now, go!”
“Yessir.” The aide went off in a hurry.
“Now, Sire, if you would care to inspect my troops here? It would mean a lot to them.”
Taréz saw his father hesitate, as if he didn’t really want to. Of course, the soldiers would be glad to be inspected, to show off, to bask in the glory of their liege lord. So maybe the King didn’t feel like basking at the moment.
Yis appeared at the door. “Ah, Yis, please, I’ve been meaning to have a word with you. Gardric, you’re dismissed. You came up to say something?”
“Yes, Sire, actually I was hoping to make my daily beg with the Chief.”
“More money? More labor? More space?”
“Yes, all of the above. It’s inVle, Sire.”
“Oh, by the Great Master, did you have to say that? My conscience is already torturing me to no end.”
“It may be trying to tell you something.”
“Well... I know that! But sometimes the conscience is wrong. History has taught that all too well. An ounce of compassion becomes a ton of ruin. Can you imagine what would be happening if I was actually sending all of these people out of the country?”
“No, Sire. I cannot.”
Taréz realized he couldn’t either.
After a bit of a pause, Yis said, “You never sent the money I asked for.”
“No, I didn’t.” The King sighed. “I know I’m not a great accountant, but there isn’t any to send.”
“The taxes weren’t sufficient?”
“No. Receipts from the east and south were way down.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“I know. Still, I thought there would be enough. We’re a large, rich kingdom. We’ve got plenty, right? Apparently not.”
“It simply means, Your Majesty, that you’ll have to be more creative.”
The King looked at Yis and narrowed his eyes. “Creative? That sounds dishonest.”
“Not at all, Sire. I simply mean that you have to look for other sources of money. What funds do you have saved up, what other ways are there to gain income? No one ever said taxes were the only way.”
“You mean, my funds? My own personal income?!”
“Well, just as an example. You had a special fund for the South Hall, if I remember correctly, and—”
“And you already have used that.”
“Indeed.”
“My own personal income.” A long pause. “Well, I just told Gardric to quadruple the rate of construction and extend the fence. I’ll find the money for it somehow.”
“Thank you, Sire. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
After a moment, Yis dismissed himself.