Glow- Chapter Two

Arvind opened his eyes.

Daughter of Death! He was late! Damn it! The seventeen-year-old shot out of bed, dragging the sheets behind him like a lopsided wedding dress. Here he was, a civilised character, racing around his room trying to find proper attire. His mother would be ashamed. It hit him, momentarily, that his mother wasn't around to see him behave so vulgarly. This thought gave him a pang of sadness, but after a quick glance at the sun's position, it was gone. He hastily located some of his nicest clothes, and was out of the door, his half-dress flung behind him on the straw mattress.

People called to him on the street, waving. He waved back, declining offers to come inside. It was cold out- the chill bit his nose and his hands were numb. But he knew it would warm up later; it was still summer, after all. The scent of delicious, fresh baked bread wafted up the street, a hint of heat on the edges of frost. He was almost tempted to go into the bakery and get something to warm his stomach and his fingers. But now was not the time for his appetite, or rather anything, to get the better of him. He was late, and the least he could do was to suffer through the weather.

Horses and their riders walked amiably through the streets, hooves and cart wheels clattering on the cobblestones. The giant hill where the castle rested loomed over the small village.

"You're late, advisor!" a guard said when he had gotten to the castle. "Expect to be let in now? It's nearly over, though with your prince as smitten as he is, I doubt he would care if his precious peasant turned up late."

Arvind shoved his way through roughly. Even though he was smaller, he was bony and strong from working hard as a farmhand when he was much younger. And when a shoulder blade caught you in the face, well, let's just say you had it coming.

He peeked his head through the intricately carved mahogany double-doors leading into the newly-built Sanctuary. There was a large choir singing, and the music reverberated through the walls. He glanced at the high ceilings and marvelled at the detail put into the many paintings that covered the high arches that made up the dome of the ceiling. One depicted the willow of life, rumoured to be the first tree in Sarojin. Another depicted the first king, and another the sorcerer Chi surrounded by his four sons and only daughter.

Arvind snuck into the mahogany pews. To his relief, the bride was almost to the front of the aisle. He gave a small sigh of relief. He hadn't been late.

That's when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Advisor," a maid whispered in his ear. "you had better come with me. It is urgent."

"Can't it wait?" he asked impatiently. "I just got here."

"No, sir. You see, it is the prince. He's-"

Here the maid looked around and lowered her voice. It was barely higher than the beat of a butterfly's wings.

"He's having second thoughts."

Arvind looked around at the nobles gathered. Sentimental, the brutes, with no idea of the lives beyond their garden walls. He looked at the bride, standing in front of the priest with an innocent expression on her face. She expected to be married to the Prince of Sarojin. She was a princess from realm of Kunda, off to the west of Sarojin. Kunda and Sarojin had been bitter enemies for years, vying for a land in between them that had finally been settled over a marriage. This marriage. It was to call a truce, make the land neutral, for if Sarojin got the land, Kunda would fight, and vice versa. Yet, as Arvind thought, it was only a matter of time before tensions came to the surface and destroyed each realm from the inside out. Things were worse than anyone could fathom. He didn't suppose this marriage could cause things to get any better.

The princess stood there in her blue gown, a sign of life and newness and peace. Above her brow was a silver circlet, with one sapphire tear hanging against the bridge of her nose. She clutched a group of orange roses in her hands, and she waited in earnest for a man Arvind now had to persuade to come to his own wedding, so that the feud could be resolved. There was a lot resting on his shoulders.

He turned to the maid and said, "Take me to the Prince."

*

Arvind stepped into the chambers of his colleague. It was not lush or fabulous- there was simply a small bath and a few trinkets lying around. The prince stood in the corner near the window, back turned to the door. He wore a blue coat and blue trousers, a matching hat pinned on his head. Arvind closed the door gently and waited dispassionately by it before his advisee realised he was there.

"Lovely, isn't she?" The prince began with a roll of his eyes, gesturing to a portrait of his beloved hanging on the left wall, a portrait of the woman he was supposed to marry.

"Yes, sir," Arvind replied without emotion.

"Why are you so bland? Can you... I don't know, laugh or something? Whenever you are around me, you are almost always so stiff and formal. You almost never smile. You almost never do anything except say, 'Yes, sir'. Can you show some emotion?"

Arvind blinked. This outburst was so sudden he was caught off guard. Show some emotion? He thought the prince was far too busy to pay attention to his advisor, even his advisor's mood. Nevertheless, he forced a smile and said, "Yes, sir."

Lennox sighed. "You're hopeless, you. The smile was new, but..." he trailed off. Then, he looked back at Arvind. "How do I look?"

"Fantastic, but... if I had to make one improvement, I'd say there was far too much blue."

"What could I do to fix that?"

"I," Arvind began, crossing over to a vase filled with orange roses. "believe you should match your beloved." He selected a relatively thorn-free stem and tucked it into one of the button holes of his colleagues' jacket.

"Lovely." Lennox smiled grimly, sitting exhaustedly in a chair. "I suppose you were sent up here to cajole me into marrying this girl I do not even know, much less love?

Arvind nodded.

"And you're going to tell me how much this means between the fate of the two realms, how we can keep peace?"

"Yes."

Lennox crossed his arms like a stubborn child. "Well, I won't hear of it."

Arvind had much experience dealing with children- he was raising both his brother and sister, after all- but this was different. He couldn't hand Lennox a candy and tell him everything was going to be okay. Almost-adults like him were harder. But even though Lennox was a year older than him, Arvind was more mature, and he knew how to handle the situation.

"I could tell you you're being selfish, couldn't I? And I would be right."

"Yes, you would be."

"I could tell you you're doing a great thing for a noble cause."

"Yes."

"But I would be lying to you about my own thoughts and how I would react in a situation like this."

"How would you act?" the prince asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Exactly like you," Arvind answered in all truthfulness. "But I would marry her all the same."

"And why is that?"

"Because it'd be my choice. I'd eventually choose to marry her, even with everything I knew, because my guilt over my selfishness would finally be so great I'd do it in a heartbeat. But I'm not you. This is your choice. However you choose it to be is how it shall be, and you can't toss away that choice simply because of something that doesn't matter to you."

Lennox was silent for a moment, before saying, "But what should happen if no peace had been brought?"

"If you weren't the source of the conflict, there wouldn't be any weight on your mind. You couldn't be blamed, not really."

Lennox thought on this, and then stood from his chair, uncrossed his arms, and smoothed the front of his jacket.

"You have convinced me," he said to his advisor. "albeit begrudgingly, but you have convinced me nonetheless. I am glad you came, advisor."

Arvind waited by the door as the prince buttoned his jacket and followed him as he made his way to the Sanctuary.

Social classes were little of a barrier to them. Sure, Lennox was high and mighty, but he had a heart, and he used it to look into others, see them in a way no one thought possible. Arvind was lower class- always had been. He had always been cautious about people who were higher- they didn't seem to care about the people under them, just trampling heads on their way to the top. Even now, they were as cold hearted as ever, hosting a wedding with lavish trappings, including a full feast even though crops and livestock were poor. How far were these people willing to go?

Lennox and Arvind entered the Sanctuary- Lennox strode up the aisle, and Arvind ducked to the side. As he watched, the prince walked up to his lovely bride and took her hands. The wedding commenced, with the timeless traditions of dumping water on one another's heads to cleanse the soul, exchanging gifts from one realm to another, if it was an interrealm affair, and finally they placed their hands on one another's heads claiming their faith to one another. There was a blast of dust from the ancient organ, and then the hissing of air as it made it's way through the old, dusty pipes and belted out weak traditional tunes. The two walked back down the aisle, holding hands. Arvind stood and clapped monotonously with the rest of them, and shuffled outside to watch them go upstairs to their separate rooms. It was another stinking tradition. To make sure their love lasted forever, but they could be separated for a day or two.

Arvind ducked outside to avoid the onslaught of well-wishers, walking down the street and pulling off his amulet, which was meant for good luck in marriage. He only wore it because his mother had worn it before she had died, before The Sickness had ravaged Sarojin with its tendrils of hate. Even now, with all of the bodies stinking up street corners, it had been getting worse. He had noticed it when his cousin had stopped coming to see him. He enjoyed her company when days weren't going so bad, and when he found out she had died, it was a numbing blow. He realised his attachment to people could bring nothing but hurt, and so he had become more impassive to even his sister and brother. He didn't like what he was becoming.

This time, when someone called him into a pub, he obliged. But that was only because he needed to hear the news from the other realms. The pubs were filled with colourful characters. Dwarphs, most of all, who lived in the cliffs of the Unknown regions that surrounded the four realms. There were also wanderers, people who didn't have a designated realm, the local populous of thugs and drunkards, and the lone Archer, who belonged to Chi himself, ruler of the four sons, and therefore the four realms, Reshoc, Sarojin, Nore, and Kunda.

Arvind passed a table of locals teaching the dwarphs a drinking song. He watched as the pub owner threw out a few uglies with scars on their faces and too much to drink. Finally, he spotted the one person he had been looking for for weeks. An Archer, sitting in the middle of the room. Plain as day. But nothing could be more hidden. No one payed the slight, cloaked figure a second thought except for the boy who sought them out. Time was ticking. He needed information, and he needed it now.

"Hullo," Arvind started, pulling up a bench. "d'you have information from Reshoc?"

"I do not, unless you have a few coins."

Arvind handed him the money and the cloaked figure began telling the boy of Reshoc's state.

"There are armies heading southward, toward the Unknowne lands. We think it has to do with Kunda pairing up with Nore, but we're not sure. It is a colourful army, patched together with boys who are not yet men and men who are but elders. Dwarphs are sprinkled in the mix, and wind witches."

"Wind witches?" Arvind knew of them, with their white cloaks and their ability to ride clouds. "How did Reshoc get ahold of wind witches?"

"No one knows. It is rumored the king burned their camps and pointed it toward the enemy, proposing revenge. We think it will soon be war."

"War can't be coming. Too many people are sick or dying."

"Indeed. They drop like flies, the army, and the healthy just step over them along their way, carrying banners high."

Arvind nodded. "And what about Nore?"

"Sorry, what?"

The boy sighed. "I don't have any more coins."

"You get no more information, then," the Archer said, taking a long slurp from his mug of Ale. "but I can tell you this, since you've been such a loyal customer, coming every month to see me."

The Archer stood and Arvind waited until he heard the whisper in his ear.

"Sarojin, too, is preparing for war."

Arvind heard the door shut with a bang and stared at the table, eyes tracing the wood grain. If the prince heard of this, there would be death to pay. Innocent blood would be spilt. But he couldn't. Then whom? Not the new head-guard, he had become too unreliable after the King and the old head-guard died. Not the queen. No. There was only one person he could trust with something like this.

Himself.