AMBERGILL: What Lies Within

“You better not involve yourself in politics, Martha!” The disgruntled voice of my grandfather scolds pricked my ears. They were loud enough that the neighbors even added to his blaze. “You really shouldn’t, Martha! It’s dangerous. I hear the king might initiate a war,” his friend warns. “What isn’t dangerous in this land?” I chuckled, leaving my pop even more enraged. I guess the legality of the king’s only son, Prince Archer Florence Carter, heir of Ambergill, was one big of a deal that the palace opened for new sets of maids and workers. Yes, his name must be completely recited by law. Maybe he is that delighted having his only heir turn twenty-one without catching the flu or dying mysteriously like each of the other heirs before. I’m sure he waited so long for this moment, to announce that the official successor of his throne is not a girl. And it is quite funny, having to prepare a large banquet, the palace needing more laborers only for this “celebration” when the kingdom has been dead for over a hundred years now. He even had the guts to invite the royalties from the nearby countries when he could not even afford to feed his men. As I stood in front of my grandfather’s stool carrying my packed bag, I handed him a paper envelope my mother had given me before she passed. “This was Mother’s plan. Please don’t worry about me,” I say. My mum is very silly to think she can outsmart me. I was summoned to the kingdom in compliance to pay off my mother’s debts, they say. She worked as the late Queen’s maid, may her majesty’s soul rest in peace, and stayed in the palace after the Queen’s passing to work as a laundress all because of this said debt that my poor family can only afford to pay through labor. She is smart. But even if she can fool men, she can never fool me. How can she be a laundromat when she is allergic to lye? After her death, I was informed that I must work in her place. Still amusing. My mother was able to give me an envelope with cash almost as much as the king exploits, and she decided to send me off to work in the palace instead of paying the debt herself. There is something she wants me to accomplish there. I’m sure. I began my walk through the wounded alleys of the town being forcefully treated with colorful bandages. If his solution to make these streets stop being an eyesore from his balcony’s view by hanging chequered banners and flags, he must’ve lost his sanity. I hear men on each side of the street blissfully talking about their opportunities to work for the king, and how thankful they are that Prince Archer Florence Carter, heir of Ambergill was born in the world to create miracles for us commoners. Because, apparently, the king never hosted a celebration before. Knowing the king’s pride, he probably hosts parties once in a while. Just within the rich’s reach. I see a lot of familiar faces also on their way to the palace for the huge recruitment. Everyone believes that working as the royalties’ slaves is a lot better than working with crops and in blacksmiths that eventually get seized by the bandits. While a lot are busy spreading the news about the royal feast. Great heavens. Even the townspeople from Stockdale and Masefield are traveling here, to Westwood, hoping they can obtain some of the king’s “grace”. “Oh, my! Martha, dear, how long has it been?” I hear a woman’s voice from my side. Ugh. I knew who it was the second I heard her annoying voice spit my name. I turned gracefully to greet her, my father… err, my mother’s mother-in-law, Brenda. “Why, helloooo, grand-mothah!” I faked my bliss. “Ooooh, no, no. I told you not to call me that,” she asserts while attempting to caress my hair. “Well, where are you off to?” I truly would rather be wiping a horse’s dirty bottom than continue this chat with her. She disappeared right after my mother’s death along with lots of our family’s jewels and once again appears with such lustrous, lavish attire to hook everyone with her spurious wealth. She has been nothing but a thief to my mum, but would constantly humiliate us for working as servants. If there were a witch in our neighbourhood she would’ve been long paralyzed. “The palace, Madame.” She gives me a nod before looking at me with the boastful gaze she always does. “Mhmmm. I can hardly believe that you are invited to the royal feast-uhh. You’re seeking for a job, are you, dear?” “Oh. No, Madame! I was verily bidden to the party,” I spoke falsely. Hah. There was no point in lying, but I longed to see her irked face once again. “Well, the party is open even for mere slaves,” she laughs. “No, Madame. I am invited as a dignitary.” Her brows almost merged in annoyance. “Is it so? I know your mother to be a skillful deceiver, yet habitual lying does not suit a young lady like you, dear. Nevertheless, you may always prove me mistaken. For I shall be present at the royal party… also as a dignitary!” Oh God, what place did I put myself into? She turned her back to me after a smirk and continued on her way. What a peacock. How dare she call my mother a liar? I dream of shattering her pride someday. I boarded a carriage along with other passengers to get to the palace before noon. It took about an hour to reach such a nearby sight from the deprived outskirts of town. It was an unsettling sight, from the poor and filthy town to the grand castle. It did not sit right for me. The carriage was even instructed to go on a different path, and that we must only enter through the back gates not to be seen by the dignitaries and royalties arriving. And instead of joining the group of women vying for maid positions, I was directed to a separate chamber within the palace—the king’s throne hall. I had two armoured knights by my side showing me the way to the king. Am I going to get killed instead? I should have at least worn the fanciest dress I own rather than this rag. “Bow down,” the knight commanded me when we reached the hall. My heart quickens as I behold the secluded chamber, where none but the cruel King stands before me. What had my mother committed for me to face this man? “You’re Cecilia’s daughter?” his voice echoes through the halls, making my heart skip another beat. I gulped as I answered him with a nod. He signals his knights to leave us be, making it even harder for me to breathe. What does he want from my family? What did he do to my mother? “What’s your name?” “M… My name is Martha Eloise, Your Majesty,” I uttered. I dared not meet his gaze directly, so my eyes remained fixed upon his knees. He loomed before me, towering twice my size in both height and breadth. Truly, he was immense—larger than I expected, as the rumors had spoken. “Martha. Your mother has worked hard under my name longer than your existence. I value her loyalty to me. Therefore, I want to reward you at least, before you swear allegiance to serve me until thy final days. What is it that you want?” He wishes to… grant me a wish? You bastard. You bastard king, what did you do to my mother? Anger surged through me like a tidal wave, my chest tightening with each breath. Thoughts of what he might have done to my mother flashed through my mind, fueling the fire within. He must have done something awful that his conscience told him to grant me a wish in exchange. What does my mother want me to do here? What did he do to her? How did she die? You cruel bastard. I will end you! “Thank you for your grace, Your Majesty,” I try hard to keep my composure. “I would like to attend tonight’s feast as a dignitary.” I gazed steadfastly into his eyes, undaunted by his fearsome visage. Keep your calm, Martha. You can solve the mystery later on. He laughs. “Hah. Alright, if that’s what you want. Tonight, you may meet my son and join the feast as a royalty. I will have the maids serve you a gown. Tomorrow morning, you may start working.” “Where must I work, Your Majesty? The kitchen?” Tell me, bastard. What work did you make my mother do? “Your task is of utmost secrecy. You will serve the Duchess’ daughter, Lady Priscilla.” An unfamiliar royal name echoed through the back of my brain. Lady Priscilla? Who could that be? I know almost every noble that lives in the castle, yet that name has never reached my knowledge. “But today, you may rest to attend the royal feast later in the evening… Where you all will meet my son, for the first time,” his majesty states firmly. I’ll be meeting you, then. Prince Archer Florence Carter, heir of Ambergill.