It
began in the north.
There
was a man that didn’t live in Glacier’s Keep, but nobody knew
that. The man had a baby with dirty dishrag coloured hair, but it
wasn’t unusual for a father to carry his child through the streets.
This
child was not his. But nobody would know that.
It
was bitterly cold, and if the baby hadn’t been asleep, she might
have cried. It might have drawn attention – what’s a man doing
with a babe out in this cold anyway? – had the thrill of
celebration not been humming in the air. Candles lit the steps up to
the palace, where the king and queen of the Divine Tundra were
holding a feast for not only the beginning of the new year, but the
birth of the crown princess.
The
infant was hardly a day old and had long since fallen asleep as the
night of the first day of the joyous new year bled into the second
morning. Queen Aisha, of course, was busy with the merrymaking. She
did not have leniency to be attending a sleeping babe. That was the
wet nurse’s job.
Madam
Lina Maier, the royal wet nurse to the newborn princess, was as deep
in sleep as her charge.
With
the festivities and heavy leisure that lay over the keep, it was not
hard for the man with the baby that wasn’t his to enter. It wasn’t
hard for him to make his route through the palace, even.
After
all, who would suspect anyone had come to steal the infant princess?
And the truth was, nobody would.
There
were no guards outside the princess’ nursery. Madam Lina had snuck
herself a glass of the finest southern wine, brought out for the
occasion, and she was not known for holding her drink. Her snoring
masked the sound of the man taking the red-faced, swaddled baby and
replacing it with the child who was not his.
The
princess’ hair was brighter, more gold, and she was bigger than
other child, but Madam Lina wouldn’t notice when the babe kicked a
fuss several minutes later. In the cold sliver of moonlight from the
window and the flicker of candlelight, she was an infant just as
she’d been left. If her blanket wasn’t made from the same pelt as
the others? Nobody would think on it.
It
began in the north. It wasn’t meant to end in the north.
Summermount,
bright and proud in the Ruby Desert, was the next. Compared to the
north, it was much more dangerous. There was a celebration for the
new prince’s arrival, of course, but Queen Nayeli was much more
vigilant. Her baby boy was more important than gold, and she hardly
let him out of her sight.
Dangerous,
difficult, but not impossible. Soon, the babe in the prince’s crib
was not the queen’s child.
It
was the baby of the Saltwater Kingdom, the infant of the Viridian
Isles, that proved most difficult. As passage from the mainland to
the Isles to steal a baby were not as easy as one may believe. The
exchange of infants wasn’t nearly as difficult, but the
transportation and the angry Silken Sea made the journey an
unfavourable one.
The
prince of the sky was the next. Queen Juliette was an ambitious young
queen and knew how to perform, how to achieve what she wanted, but
not an overprotective mother. The babe was frequently left unattended
save for the maids who watched over him and cleaned his chambers.
Swapping
the princess of Chromium was intimidating, but achievable. The
horrible gargoyle statues were ever on the lookout, but if they could
tell the difference between the queen’s daughter and the imposter,
they did not react. It was the screams of the infant, wrapped in
blankets threaded with gold, that proved to be most troubling.
Despite
the setbacks, they had done what they achieved. All five trueblood
heirs of the great kingdoms were no longer in their parents’
houses. Not one of the current trueblooded ruler’s children would
pass their blood rituals.
The kingdoms
would, one day, fall into chaos.
“You’ve
achieved above and beyond what was expected of you.” The man who
spoke was a short man with round ears and sharp features, his black
hair beginning to grey, and stony eyes.
He
was also lying for diplomacy’s sake. Jax had done exactly what was
expected of him. He had stolen and replaced every trueblooded child
born in each kingdom. He hadn’t gone above standard at all.
The
woman who stood next to the short man said nothing. She watched Jax
with those cunning eyes she had. She knew Jax hadn’t done what this
man was claiming he had. Margaretta was smarter than Guildmaster
Salvador gave her credit for.
He’d
regret that one day.
The
man Jax was dismissed with more coin than he’d entered the room
with. This would not last.
It
was not long after the eight anniversary of that first exchange that
he was called back to the Guildmaster’s study.
“I
was assured
there would be only one
trueblooded child of each kingdom!” Salvador was uncommonly red in
the face, veins bulging from his skin like termites trying to burrow
out from his flesh. He was usually collected, even in his anger, and
it was what made him seem cold at times.
Margaretta,
his scribe, watched them. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him
in such a fit. Jax didn’t look fazed, but he was stiff, ready to
disengage should he be threatened.
“I
was not the one in charge of the spellwork,” Jax replied coolly.
“If you are asking what went wrong—”
“I
am.”
Salvador pressed white knuckles into his desk. “So why
is it that I hear of a second child of Glacier’s Keep?”
Jax
didn’t have an answer for that. He knew it, Margaretta knew it, and
Guildmaster Salvador was too furious to care who had an answer.
“Surely
one trueblooded child in the hands of their parents—”
“Finish
that sentence,” Salvador snarled. “What’s the point of
eradicating the necessity of trueblooded rulers if you leave one in a
crown?” He paced to his window, staring out over the forest
stretching towards the mountains. Behind his back, Jax and Margaretta
exchanged glances.
Jax
had been under the impression this was all because of the blood
theory the Council had discussed on trueblood acting as a protective
measure against whatever defences the Ruins scattered across
Stellarsyl had that kept swallowing all trace of those who adventured
there.
It
was Margaretta who cleared her throat, however. “So we must trade
another child out.” She tilted her chin, and if he hadn’t known
better, Jax might have instinctively deferred to her.
Salvador
turned, hands clasped behind his back. “No. We have no need of
this… inconvenience.” He returned to his desk and stared at Jax,
who shivered under the steely gaze. “You will journey to the Divine
Tundra. When the infant is born, no one will think twice if she is
too weak to survive.”
Margaretta
stiffened, but Jax stared at the Guildmaster with confusion. “I
don’t follow.”
“You’ll
kill it.” Salvador let out a long-suffering sigh, as if explaining
the intricacies of politics to a new apprentice. As if he’d
suggested an afternoon ride in an automated carriage.
It
did not sit so comfortably with Jax. “Guildmaster, I must protest—”
“Is
it your job to defy my orders?” Salvador’s eye bored into Jax
until his mouth snapped shut once more. “You will kill the child,
or I’ll find someone who can. You’re dismissed.”
It
was the night of his departure for Glacier’s Keep that Jax found
Margaretta in the stables, stroking the nose of the sleek-coated
Clydesdale he was tacking for the voyage.
“You
aren’t going to kill the baby,” she said, without pausing her
ministrations. The horse snuffed softly into her hand.
Jax
watched her, and she saw the way his eyes crinkled in the light of
the single lantern from the corner of her eyes. “Is that an order,
m’lady?”
It
didn’t make her laugh, but it made her turn. “Would you obey it
if it was?”
By
all accounts, Margaretta was far more equipped to lead the
Chronicler’s Guild than Salvador, than any member of the council.
She had a sharper mind, an even sharper tongue. Jax knew nobody who
would object were she to be the one at the head of their Council.
“The
northerners will attempt to track her down,” Jax said.
“Yes,”
Margaretta agreed.
He
ran a bristle brush over the silky coat of the Clydesdale. His name
with Justiciar. “If they discover what we’ve already accomplished
in the past eight years…” He ran his hand to catch the dirt he
may have missed. Justiciar didn’t deserve to have irritations under
his tack, rubbing against his skin.
“Everything
we’ve worked for would fall apart,” Margaretta finished.
Indeed.
Everything they had worked for would be for naught, and each of them
would likely face a royal punishment. Death would be a mercy for
most. He imagined, as the guilty one, he would endure far worse.
“What
would I do with the child even if I managed to spirit it away?”
Margaretta
leaned against the horse’s flank and watched him. She was
calculating, always calculating. “Bring her here. We have her
sister, she deserves to grow up with family.”
“The
girl’s young, not stupid. She knows how pregnancy works.”
“Why
don’t you leave the talking to me.” Margaretta handed him a hoof
pick. “All I ask is that you bring the child here. I will discuss
the matter with Isa’s parents. We’ll find a way.”
Jax
hummed as he picked Justiciar’s hooves out, freeing them of stray
rocks and muck. He slid the pick into its placeholder on the wall
outside the stall and grabbed the all-purpose saddle he’d set on a
saddle rack in the aisle.
“And
Salvador?” he called, approaching Justiciar to toss a blanket and
pad over his broad back.
“Like
I said, leave the talking to me. He’ll listen.”
“If
he doesn’t?”
Margaretta
didn’t respond. Jax didn’t need her to.
She
was gone by the time he had secured his saddlebags and mounted. He
didn’t spare a glance back as he turned Justiciar onto the road
that travelled north, to the Divine Tundra, and spurred him forward.
The
disappearance of the newborn princess nearly sparked a war between
Glacier’s Keep and Summermount, but with the looming menace of the
cold seasons fast coming, the north retreated. Frostbite was a more vicious killer than a whole army. They didn't need both at their doorstep.
Salvador
did not remain Guildmaster for much longer, and there were not many
tears shed over the loss. It was not remarkable news that Margaretta was chosen
to succeed him.
And
it was not hard to fool an eight-year-old into believing a fake
pregnancy.
It
ended, as it wasn’t meant to, in the north.
word count
1,830
And my thoughts about "the next" I mentioned before applies here for me as well xD
(also, it underlines in red "trueblooded" for me; the internet says it should be written as two words, "true blooded"
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