Rulers of Veistanlu

Ceasing Sentiments

“Your Majesty, I have a report against a man named Onyx.” She curtsied by putting her right foot on pointe. Her face was beautifully tanned with a tiny mole on both cheeks, and eyes as brown as her hair in a messy bun. She seemed to be in her twenties, and she radiated higher superiority than other daughters of Viscounts. She greeted, "Good morning, Prince Alvar. His Majesty does look too well-made by the majestic heavens! My name is Cal Portia, one of the actresses in the Grand Theatre of Veistanlu."

I know, Prince Alvar thought as he anticipated her even before the doors had opened. Ever since she was there, standing with a hand on her chest, the ambience felt momentous. Unbothered with his bored eyes as blue as the oceans, the Prince went back his massive locker, slender fingers traced each folder flaps to look for a specific folder under the label ‘crime’ without Cal or Duke Mejia knowing.

She continued, "It's nice to see you here too, Duke Mejia. I would love the help of one of the greatest problem solvers."

"You simply meant detective. Anyway, I'm listening," he said in his unusual tone, less cheerful. His ears weren’t listening at all. Duke Mejia’s attention remained on the caramel sheet from Onyx, letting his disinterest visible to her with his avoidant eyes, but she didn't seem to get the hint.

Renjiro came into the door that Cal had left open, panting. "You don't have any special appointment with Prince Alvar, Lady Cal! His Majesty is very busy, too!" 

Cal ignored the Knight as she clutched her teal tunic dress made from the finest materials as what the Prince had observed. She reported, "I was residing at Lord Dolian for a while, then his serf harassed me and he's currently running everywhere in the Kingdom. We have told the Nobles in this area, but he might be hiding in other regions by now.”

The Prince’s ring finger stilled, slightly bending a folder that had Lady Cal’s name. He was a bit glad that his conversation with Onyx earlier was only a few exchanges of weighty words, or because they just understood things much faster than the people he had conversed with daily, excluding Duke Mejia. Wanting more could be perilous; Onyx and Cal could’ve met thirty minutes ago in a place where it was swarming with chivalries, and Onyx would completely miss the chance of meeting the Prince.

“He is a threat to society that he isn't even ashamed of his own doing. In fact, he asked me to report this to you, Your Majesty," she said in the verge of tears as her hands clasped her chest.

He deceived her to do it so I could witness for myself. Prince Alvar slightly raised the folder as it stood out from all the files. Very compelling.

Renjiro panicked behind her. He said, "I will make sure that he'll be caught. Do you have the details of his appearance?"

“Does he have long black hair and a perpetually angry expression on his face, as well as a tall stature?” Duke Mejia asked, folding the letter in half before dropping it back to the Prince’s dark chestnut workspace. Renjiro’s face, unlike the other Noblemen, was very expressive, opened lips and wide eyes when he heard Duke Mejia’s familiar description.

“Yes!” Cal exclaimed, her brown eyes gleamed with surprise. “Did you happen to see him?”

Despite his surprise for the Duke encountering Onyx firsthand, the Prince's initial thought was of a klazomaniac in golden armor— Renjiro Wright. Duke Mejia, who claimed to have visited the mansion yesterday, was the only one who should have informed Cal that he had seen Onyx, so the Prince scowled at Renjiro, hoping for his silence.

Duke Mejia replied, "No."

Renjiro’s brows furrowed, lips shuddering that urged to speak up. Fortunately, he knew how to shut up.

“The last time I saw him was yesterday, coming back into Dolian’s residence,” Duke Mejia’s eyes finally landed on her disorganized look.

The Prince found his porcelain hands in another drawer, handing a sheet for Cal. “Kindly fill the information in this letter of complaint.”

The three men never took their eyes off her while she was writing. When Cal, relishing her glory, was escorted by a different Knight outside the room, Renjiro was left perplexed and silent.

“Your Royal Highness, can I speak on this matter?” The Grand Knight locks the door shut. When the Prince nodded, he opened his lips, but the Duke spoke first.

“Prince, may you share details? I wasn’t paying much attention to her, as you noticed.”

“Eyes repeatedly glancing on her left, tiny fidgeting on her fingers, superfluous headshakes,” Prince Alvar replied, and finally pulled off the folder that he raised earlier to leave a mark of attention, bringing it to his desk. 

“What boldness! Tongue as vile as a snake lying in front of us. In front of you.” Duke Mejia laughed his anger out, driving his palm over his scalp, and tugged his dark curls.  He was outraged by such despicable actions in front of His Royal Highness. The Prince tightened his grip on his forearm slightly, realizing what Dolian and Cal been wickedly scheming was so vile. His mind screamed to act immediately, lock them up, or better still— have them publicly executed.

However, Prince Alvar’s composure capped in the face of every temptation that he snapped away with ease.

Before it would further slide off his mind, Prince Alvar went to read the unlabeled letter, a letter addressed to him, only to find out that it was unlike the first one, which was about him and Onyx— this one was entirely about Dolian.

His lovely face that was supposed to show neutrality dropped slightly, furious about what he was reading. Whenever Prince Alvar, a Royalty who was taught that calmness was the greatest demeanor, showed emotion, it could only mean that the letter was that atrocious!

“Do you not believe her?” Renjro asked with a loud voice. 

“I would, if it was the truth and if Cal was not an accomplice of the real criminal. Kindly read these letters,” he presented two letters from Onyx that were slowly being grasped by the Grand Knight.

Renjiro, while reading, asked, “Isn’t she supposed to be looking on her right to indicate if she’s lying, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, that was why I let her write on the paper,” the Prince said, looking from Renjiro to the file he was holding. “She was left-handed. People who lie prefer to gaze at their dominant side, hence her dominant side is to the left. It is, however, not a sufficient indicator. Take a look at this,” he handed the Grand Knight a file about Lady Cal Portia.

Cal's number of dismissed but recorded cases involving framing men to take anything from them was discovered by Renjiro in those papers. She gets away with it for targeting men who can't afford to go to court— or in other words, the lower classes. Who would’ve thought an innocent looking lady was a puterelle? Nobles used to get away with their crimes against people lower on the social ladder, but that was no longer the case for it was now punishable.

Onyx had exposed the Knights' incompetence, and proven that there were still aristocrats who got away with their atrocities. The only difference was Duke Mejia couldn’t take legal actions due to lack of evidence, even if he was the one who believed for the longest time that Dolian was the worst.

Perhaps, worse than the worst.

“Sia Clayton, a woman residing on the first street of Velemau, was pushed on the river and her body wasn’t found. This case was three years ago, and everyone residing under the bridge claims that they didn’t see who pushed her. When I flashed a painting of Dolian, they were dismayed and defensive compared to the other pictures I showed them. That time that I visited, they were preparing to flee to a better home.” While the Prince sat down at his desk, picking up his fountain pen and a fresh sheet of caramel paper, Duke Mejia began to explain, and Renjiro continued to finish reading both letters. The Duke didn’t appear to be finished.

“Nelson Parker, a farmer who formerly resided on the sixth street of Velemau, was charged of s****l assault by Zoe Wisel, Dolian’s ex-wife that already deceased. They had no evidence, just the woman’s voice. A commoner versus a Baroness; in that battle, one automatically claims victory. Nelson was sent to jail and his possession all went to Dolian. Do you see the pattern?”

"Onyx is facing a combination of those two cases involving bribery and defamation," clasping his pen that Onyx once held with great pressure, Prince Alvar concluded. He started writing on a sheet. "The thing that sets him apart from the others is that he is far too cunning for Dolian to catch him."

“What he had done was good. Even if the box did not reach you right away, the letters held everything,” Renjiro exclaimed. “I apologize for doubting, Your Grace and Your Majesty!”

Stopping his writing midway, he looked at Renjiro who was frowning after reading both letters. The Prince explained further, "Lady Cal Portia, second daughter of the Portia Family, is an outstanding opera singer. If you have no knowledge behind the scenes, you will fall for her words, since acting is part of her training. Onyx made her report here on purpose to test the legitimacy of his letter."

"Now that we have a list of Dolian's crimes, you may now strip away his title after we get his workmates as witnesses!" Duke Mejia leaned with a menacing grin against the edge of the desk. He looked so satisfied, his smile scary and frank. Who wouldn’t be, when there was now straight answers for everything?

However, Prince Alvar felt unsatisfied with Duke Mejia’s statement.

“Not yet.” Gently, the Prince placed down his fountain pen to sit by the polished wood, and inserted the folded letter inside a lavender envelope, sealing it with a purple sticker. Now that blue eyes met the Duke’s hazel ones, the envelope on his fingers crossed between their faces.

Amidst all the stressed atmosphere, Prince Alvar, thirsting for revenge, had finally found the right moment to declare, “While we take out Dolian, we will provide cover for Onyx. I have devised a strategy.”

**

If Prince Alvar could blush, he was scarlet-faced the entire day.

Sun had set into the last orangey horizon when their meeting adjourned; Renjiro was sent out for a mission, while Duke Mejia went into his own path. The office was almost vacant, with the Prince as the last remaining person. He was taken aback by how passionately he had schemed his elaborative strategy to apprehend a criminal and save an innocent stranger.

Prince Alvar’s knees weakened, dropping himself slowly on his throne.

He let himself be vulnerable now that he's alone, and when Onyx knocked on the door of his mind, his body heated up again when he allowed him in. During the humming of his emotions from someone who had saved him when he couldn't do it himself, his slender hands cradled his overwhelmed face, even if it was simply a coincidence. When he expelled hot breaths with his hammering heart, his lips shifted slightly on his palms as free as they could after concealing his reactions for hours under his guarded exterior. This is quite inconvenient.

If his hand had not avoided mine, what more?

“Disgraceful thoughts do not do well.” He pulled the collar that embraced his warm neck using his index finger. When there were more pressing matters to consider, Prince Alvar sought to distract himself from thinking about Onyx— yet he hadn’t stopped, he couldn’t stop. His welcoming thoughts wouldn’t want to make Onyx step outside his door.

Uncrossing his leg to stand away from his throne and his meddlesome head, the Prince decided to take a short break. When he went out his door to go into his chamber, Prince Alvar came face to face with Sir Marshall, who was pushing a dining trolley, ordering him to put his supper by his office and then lock the door afterwards. 

His face was direct and lifted, threatening and tender, as leather pattens drifted by the crimson carpets. The hallway was simple; floral vases as tall as him sitting with exact feet apart, landscapes that he had no opportunity of travelling into were painted in large canvases adhered by the cream-yellow walls.

But despite the simplicity, the memories were quite sophisticated. He had reminisced small chattering and chuckles from maids with same uniforms, wrist dancing with fluffy dust brushes in hand, and chivalries that held decorative spears instead of those that could s***h into one’s flesh, welcoming each aristocrat who came to visit and tour the palace. That's the moment he'd like to go back to if he could just turn back the clock.

Those noises were the ones he longed for, usual noises for grand, spacious places. It had been long— too long— that his ears heard nothing but the sound of silence that he resented his whole life. He was forced to be unhappily contented in this, even if he knew that it was for the best.

Entering his room that used to be opened for him, his drowsy eyes landed on the coat hanger stand made out of dark wood, causing him to notice that his denim blue robe remained sitting by his shoulders. Neither of his allies had reminded him to take it off, nor was it their job to do it. As he untied the tiny ribbon by his chest and hung the fabric by the stand, he felt heaviness on his chest that he struggled to stand tall and firm.

Prince Alvar was greatly overwhelmed.

Write. He hurried into a locked drawer by his desk. A soft click echoed when it was unlocked by a small key, and Prince Alvar eyed a brown notebook; the amount of scratches its leather covers had as his fingertips traced over its texture would mean that a huge amount of time passed from the time it had existed and had been used. 

After cushioning himself in a wooden mini chair in front of the bedside table, the leather strips that bowed the notebook together were carefully unknotted, and a huge spill of unpleasant memories played in his mind like a live-action film in a theater—but it was him as the sole audience when he opened to the first page. He passed through the years-old pages, printed and smudged with his own pen’s ink and hand, reading not a single word.

It took plenty of written papers to find a plain, welcoming one. Taking out his fountain pen, he dipped it in black ink, tiny drops had fallen back when he took the nib away.

Light blonde eyelids remained its curls when Prince Alvar had closed his eyes. In times where he needed to vent to himself, silence was very favorable to focus on earlier yet significant events. One warm exhale made him feel ready to see and write.

He wrote, I have been saved, and was supposed to be defended this morning.

His heart thudded, his gaze softened. The theater show changed from the scars of the past events to the man with kind, green eyes that stepped on the forestage. Instead of being downhearted, that one audience by the hundred theater vacant seats was delighted for a short moment, applauding softly. He remembered Onyx’s face deep with concern, holding back the spear away his chest. It still staggered Prince Alvar.

His given name was Onyx, and I am yet to know what his surname is. He is a tall man with a strong physique who is also clever. His hair was black as an onyx gem, incredibly long and lustrous, and it attracted my utmost attention since it was so distinctive.

“I am not supposed to think like this.” As an underlying shame surged into the depths of his heart, prompting him to cross out all the profound sentences written, the fountain pen remained still between his delicate fingertips. Compared to all the other pages, this specific page he noticed was beautifully penned. No smudges, no erasures, no scribbles. The paper was clean from any impetuous mess that he wouldn’t want to touch it further.

Not just that, it was the only entry in his diary where it was about him being glad about his day.

The theme of his notes were never this lighthearted, so he proceeded to write, However, these feelings shall die. It suddenly changed the mood of the page, and it was no different than the rest. His emotions went elsewhere, went unfelt. The letters continued to form, I am just feeling lonely as of the moment, and my only intention was to compliment his appearance.

The Prince’s hand froze, hesitating to write the following weighty words, something too sensitive of a topic that he wouldn’t even let it escape his lips. He returned his gaze to the page, and seeing that it was already gloomy, he was left to ponder. He frowned and thought to himself, This is illegal.

When Onyx's condition suddenly appeared in his head, his small body shuddered slightly out of worry.

Illegal, but I do want to see him.

His shaking left palm swam into his blue pocket after rolling the pen barrel away to retrieve the letter that the Prince wouldn't dare leave in his office. Every syllable engrossed him sufficiently that he remembered every line, sparking a slew of questions all at once.

When there were questions, there were also opinions. Onyx was quite capable of physical activities, as seen by his ability to go out alive and healthy without sustaining any injuries. Not only that, but as the Prince recalled Onyx holding back the spear at the last second, he realized that every action of Onyx was swift and effortless. 

Onyx, he believed, was not only surprisingly intelligent, but also a good strategist. The Prince wasn't given the full story, but he made a rough guess, since he was able to escape Knights and a hostage situation without any injury. All that was all over Onyx’s biceps that Prince Alvar recalled were dirty residues, possibly from running away in the forest.

Such abilities could easily secure the butler's post without further examinations.

He looked at his glimmering pocket watch, eight sixteen. Before he decided to stand up and let the denim blue robe embrace his petite figure again, he wrote one final sentence, and made his first erasure on the once pristine page.

He will be someone I will (want) utilize.

**

Prince Alvar arrived at his office, unable to relax— until his stomach growled, that was. For the continuous turn of events, the Prince took care of everything, except for himself. 

The pink packet with nothing but breadcrumbs remained on his desk as he also advised Sir Marshall not to place a fingertip.

Over Renjiro’s lambasting words, he wasn’t lying when he told the Prince to not receive anything outside the palace without the guards checking the package, or at all. It was likely to be drenched with hazardous chemicals, or local killers united with the bribers who wanted him dead to curse the materials inside with magic— but the Prince couldn’t help getting excited over a box of bread, and of course, with the bigger case he had predicted inside.

In the end, he was glad from the little risk he took. 

He ate the stale food after placing the wooden plate from the dining trolley to his desk right away: grilled meat with rice and corn, as well as a teacup filled with oregano tea that the Prince could smell right away. It was intended to be a lavish dinner, but all he ever had was himself, and he always had a plausible justification for refusing the King's every invitation. Before Renjiro and Duke Mejia returned, he pushed through his stomach with little hunger in the dark room.

Three slow knocks on the door echoed in his office after a few minutes. 

Swallowing his last bite, Prince Alvar finished his meal and answered, “You may enter.”

He expected that they would be back when the moon was at its peak; the plan was long but the night was longer. His blue eyes expected two or more people entering when the huge door opened, but only a man with a maroon surcoat entered with his casual, friendly smile.

“Onyx got away from the chivalries?” Prince Alvar asked as he organized the plates back to the trolley, so Sir Marshall wouldn’t be so bothered for much longer. After all, he was not his butler.

Duke Mejia drifted a palm on his dark brown locks, his hazel eyes mollified. He said in a calm voice, “Second Prison in Velemau, first hallway, first cell.”

If that was the case, Renjiro should be the one who came back, Prince Alvar thought as he stood still as though he was a thin curtain surrounded by the least breeze. He then realized, Perhaps he escorted the other serfs of Dolian.

It was impressive how soon the two understood each other. Duke Mejia recognized that the Prince would prefer to see everything with his own eyes rather than having someone describe it to him, resulting in inaccurate visualizations. Even though they were expected to meet tomorrow, he was too keen to see how Onyx was doing in prison for some inexplicable reason.

Patience was his finest control, yet the Prince's temptations were already overwhelming him all day long— so what was stopping him from succumbing to impatience just this once?

Prince Alvar responded with his slim fingers pulling the robe’s hood over his fluffs of light blonde hair and his serene face behind the moonlight that slipped through the glassed embrasure. His robe bottom swayed with the turning of his body to meet the crescent moon. Through his blue-berry wall, he gazed.

Do not fall.

“Hey,” Duke Mejia called as he watched Prince Alvar levitate, and his robe flowed continuous waves. In a half-banter statement, he said, “Don’t die, Prince Floris.”

“You are not Sir Renjiro to be schmaltzy.” Floris disappeared from Duke Mejia’s eyesight; he was prepared to enter the walls that could not ever contain him. 

Do not fall for Onyx.

Before he flew down the highest tower to meet the grassland washed with dim moonlight whilst flowing through the night-time chilling air, Floris demanded delicately, “Do not tell, Duke Etheniel, to Sir Renjiro or to my father."