Chapter Text
It was nearing midnight and there was a knock at the front door of the Ravenriver Apothecary. Inside the building, a lone dripping candlestick stood at a corner of the front counter, it filled the room with a soft orange glow and cast flickering shadows against the wall. The owner of the Apothecary, Emer curled into a corner of the room, among the shadows and though she roused slightly at the sound of the knock, she only made a grunt, burrowing further into the warmth of the rough blanket that wrapped around and wished for whatever visitor at the door to leave.
Who could it be at this hour? She wandered still in the thralls of an uncomfortable sleep, Had I been waiting for someone—Wait! Lord Jemmian must be here!
The knock sounded again and Emer jolted awake, suddenly remembering why she had stayed up at the shop past closing. She got up instantly, the blanket slid off her and onto the straw pellet she had been sitting on and with a drowsy gait came upon the front door. She quickly unlatched the bolt from the door and pried it opened.
Behind the door was the broad-shouldered figure of Lord Jemmian. He looked as he had in her childhood. A tall man with greying hair at the sides, long eyebrows that curled off his temple, under which were very kind-looking eyes. Even under these trying circumstances, his jovial spirit seemed intact. He stepped in through the threshold and embraced her.
“Emer, my dear.” He greeted, “I cannot thank you enough for the sanctuary you give us.”
“Please, please come in,” Emer invited graciously, closing the door as the two men entered
the house.
She froze momentarily as she turned and faced the younger man who accompanied Lord Jemmian. The poems and love songs did not lie, the Prince Alveric Holowyn was a handsome young man. Even now, dressed in commoner clothes and without his adornments, he exuded an air of regality. His hair was swept away from his angular face. He was haggard by the journey and likely from the terrible tragedy that had befallen him.
“Emer, I present to you, his royal highness, Prince Alveric Holowyn.” Lord Jemmian said.
“It is an honour, your highness,” Emer said bowing deeply. She may have been a small-town girl but she was also the daughter of a knight at the king’s court—or at least he had been --- and she knew etiquette worthy of royals. The prince barely noticed her, instead looking around the apothecary.
“My prince,” Lord Jemmian spoke, “This is Miss Evandro, yesterday you told me the name was familiar to you. You recall Sir Evandro- the Knight who took charge of your training when you were a child. Sir Evandro is Emer’s—”
“What is this place exactly?” The prince asked interrupting with a touch of annoyance in his voice. He cast another disappointed look around the interior of the apothecary. “I was told
that it was a sickhouse.”
“It is more of an apothecary at the front,” Emer answered uncertain if he was addressing her, “We have rooms at the back meant for patients.”
The prince looked at her properly for the first time. Emer felt a wave of self-consciousness. She must look a downright mess at the moment, she had not thought to take a look at a mirror to fix her hair and rub the drowsiness from her eyes. She looked down instantly.
“And where must I stay?” He asked again with that tinge of impatience in his voice. It was the commanding tone of one who was accustomed to having the world bend to their will. Emer was used to having such a tone directed her way often. After all, what was she? The abandoned daughter of a Knight, she was nobody. Especially to a Prince.
“Yes, right this way your highness,” she said picking up the candlestick and directing the men down the narrow hallway behind the counter of the apothecary. The hallway led to the sickrooms, but split off at the right leading to the kitchen, adjacent to it was a stairway leading up. They followed her up the stairway that went to the personal quarters. At the top of the stairs there was rather narrow loft enclosed by the wooden railing, that overlooked the front of the apothecary, to its left was a door that opened to a comfortable though small bedroom. The bedroom used to belong to the past matron to whom Emer had apprenticed. Now that Emer was the healer, the room ought to belong to her but she had grown accustomed to sleeping on a straw pellet beside the fire place of the infirmary.
“Are there any patients in the sickhouse?” Lord Jemmian asked
“Not at the moment,” Emer replied, “And they would not come up here.”
She opened the door to the room. The prince was looking over the railing, down at the store, with a critical look upon his face. She held the door open and set the candlestick on the nearby chest so that it illuminated the room. It was not a spacious room by any means, with the bed taking up most of the space. Emer had always taken care to keep it clean and replace the canopy curtains and bedding even though she never slept there. She had done these tasks even in her apprentice days and it was her habit. There was a window at the right with a well-worn arm chair beside it. In the corner, left of the bed was a wash stand with water Emer had freshly filled that evening. The room was perhaps a touch bit feminine for a man but Emer had not the time to redecorate it to suit to royal tastes. It was clean and discreet and it would have to do. Still, she was surprised to see the prince scowling. He noticed her looking at him.
“Tell me, are there many red cloaks in this area?” he inquired. ‘Red cloaks’ that was the name given to the personal guard of the Novenik House. It was them who had stormed the palace, killed the king and sent his sole son and heir fleeing into the night.
“None, as far as I know, your highness,” Emer answered, “Most people in this town tend to avoid talk of politics.”
“Then they will be easily won over by Novenik.” The prince muttered.
“Worry not, Alveric,” Lord Jemmian assured, “We are far from the Capital, you are safe here at least for a while. You need only stay here for two weeks at most.”
“Safe? nowhere is safe,” The Prince said, there was a growing madness in his voice; his brows lifting so she could see the blue-black of his eyes lit by the candlelight, “How can I trust anyone after what has happened?”
“You distrust me, your highness?” Emer found herself asking
“Alveric…” Lord Jemmian warned.
“Of course, I distrust you, healer!” The prince said, “You’re the daughter of a most trusted and loyal Knights to the House Holowyn – do you not think that they will come after you? And what will you do then?”
“I do not think anyone knew my father had a daughter,” Emer stated and turned to Lord Jemmian “In truth, I was surprised when you wrote to me,”
“Of course, I remember you, Emer.” He beamed at her, “But you are right, apart from me its unlikely that there were many others who knew of your existence,”
Emer tried to pretend that it meant nothing to her to hear those words. Would a loving father keep the existence of his daughter a secret from all except one of his friends? It must have been shame. It had to be. Why else would he saddle her with her grandmother and leave only to return every once in a while, and even then act like a stranger to her?
The prince did not seem convinced.
“I will settle for this…arrangement for now, but I hold you to the promise of two weeks.” The prince said, “But tell me, what of you? where will you go?”
“Eastward for now,” Lord Jemmian said, “I will write to Lord Doven there, they will offer us their aid – I hope.”
The prince sighed.
“What of our other plans?” The prince said. Lord Jemmian raised a brow, but then a slow realization dawned on him. He looked uncertainly to Emer, who realized they meant to discuss something they wished her not to hear.
“I will await you at the front door,” She said, “I hope you find your room well, your highness,” She gave a small bow and walked out the room.
Alveric observed the face of the healer girl as she took leave of the room. He could some resemblance to his previous sword teacher- master Evandro- it was in the arch of her brows and the serious gaze. He could easily believe this girl was Master Evandro's daughter for like Evandro, her demeanor betrayed nothing, neither discomfort or enthusiasm to be hosting a member of the Royal family. He could not read her and therefore he felt he ought not trust her. The door closed leaving the two men together.
"Alveric, you do not mean to be serious about this...this plan, as you call it?" Lord Jemmian turned to Alveric.
"You act like it's preposterous," Alveric scoffed, "but it seems the only logical action. I must seek aid from Vohar, it is the kingdom of my aunt."
"Vohar will not compromise the alliance between the kingdoms because of a civil conflict like this. And besides that, your aunt has never been on good terms with your parents. Do you even recall meeting her?"
"Once," Alveric offered rather uncertainly, for this was a glaring flaw in his plan that even he could not ignore. His Mother’s sister had always been a distant figure in his life, someone people knew to be cautious around. "For my 9th name day, she came to visit."
"It is not a wise course of action, your highness," Jemmian rejoined with a shake of his head,
"we want to prevent a war. That's why we need a swifter resolution to this, and the do this by uniting the members of the nobility who have always been allies of the Holowyns. There are countless citizens too who support your ascension to the throne. You have made yourself a favourite in many parts of the land. We will avenge your father Alveric and the flag of your family will fly again, but it will take some time."
In Alveric's mind, images from that cursed night flashed. Lord Novenik standing over the body of Alveric's father. Strange to think that it had been five days already since then. Whatever, riots began in the capitol to appose this sudden usurping were quickly snuffed out by the red cloaks. The House of Novenik were spreading their forces across the country, the squire that had been captured in Alveric's place might have fooled them for now but it would come to light soon enough and then what? They would seek him everywhere. They would not rest untill every Holowyn was dead. If this did not already signal a war, Alveric did not know what to think.
"It is clear to us that the House of Novenik are allied with some kind of supernatural force," Lord Jemmian reasoned, "we have discussed it before but it is essential to understand its nature before we plan anything else."
"Would Lord Doven known anything about this?" Alveric asked
"I hope." Lord Jemmian said, "ancient magics of this sort have long since been dealt with by the knights. Lord Doven and perhaps any of the other remaining knights might know something of the matter.”
Alveric knitted his brow. He knew with certainty that the Noveniks had made some deal with a supernatural entity. For a noble house that so piously preached of the evils of witch craft, they were not above resorting to it. And Alveric himself had seen those infernal creatures that came scaling up the walls of the Palace and killed every member there. There was something sinister at play, something beyond his capabilities.
"You must remain here for now, Alveric. " Lord Jemmian said, "you are the future of this kingdom and everything will be for naught if something happens to you."
Alveric looked up at Lord Jemmian, who had been his tutor and a most trusted advisor to his father all his reign. He felt closer to this man than he ever had to his own father.
"This will end, Alveric. Mark my words." Lord Jemmian said. Alveric nodded.
The older man embraced him and Alveric felt for just a moment, like he was a child again.
Do not leave me, he wanted to say, I feel so lost, so alone and this is too great a burden for me to bear. But then Jemmian released him from the embrace and gave a bow as if to reestablish their roles again. Alveric was a prince and by right, the future king. It would do him no good to admit to such a weakness. He gave a curt dismissive nod such as which he had seen his father do to his advisors. Lord Jemmian took leave of the room, the candle went out as the door shut and Alveric was left in the darkness.
Downstairs Emer hovered anxiously at the foot of the stairway. She had lit another candle and clenched it in her right hand. Lord Jemmian came down the stairs, still smiling in his gentle kindly way as if she could sense her anxiety.
“Is the room to his majesty’s liking?” Emer could not help but ask and felt like foolish eager child for doing so.
“Of course, it is,” Lord Jemmian decided as she came upon the bottom of the stairs to join her, “You run a fine establishment here, Emer, how proud your father would be.”
Emer really doubted her father would have cared. It didn’t matter anymore, he was long gone anyway. She felt compelled to change the subject.
“There have been some troubling tales floating around town, did the Lord Novenik really…kill the King?” Emer asked. Lord Jemmian’s expression darkened.
“It was an awful affair, Emer. If the Prince appears sullen and bitter, you must not think too much about it,” Lord Jemmian said, “He has had the worst days of his life.”
He gave a sigh and stepped into the apothecary, looking around deep in thought and went on speaking,
“We had warned the king that the House of Novenik would stir some kind of civil conflict, ever since they were exiled four years ago they have been gathering forces and support from beyond the border and it felt only a matter of time till they struck but no one could have expected that they would strike from within the heart of the kingdom, from the very place that the King ought to have felt the safest. They attacked the palace during the Harvest’s End feast, there were many noble houses who did not attend and I believe now it was because they were already in alliance with Novenik. The ones that did attend are held captive now till they declare their support for Lord Novenik. We only managed to get Alveric out of there by sneaking him through a secret passage way and disguising one of his squires to take his place—that poor, poor boy!”Lord Jemmian rubbed the bridge of his nose, “they are bound to notice though, if they have not already that it is not the real prince they captured. And when they do, they will search every fold of this kingdom to find him. I fear I have put you in danger by asking this favor of you, Emer.”
“Lord Jemmian I promise you I will make sure the Prince is kept safe and secret here,” Emer assured, she faltered a bit as she added rather sheepishly, “You were always kind to me. Even after my father…disappeared-” she would not say ‘dead’, it felt the wrong word to use “-you wrote to me and secured an inheritance for me, without that I could not have studied to be a healer. I am forever in your debt and you can call on me for any favor at all.”
He smiled at her with fondness and tousled her as he had done when she were a child.
“Your father did a great disservice to himself, pursuing the king’s command to hell and highwater when he could have retired and been a proper parent to you,” He said sadly, “But you have much of his loyalty and good nature, Emer. I know I can rely on you.”
Emer felt a swell of pride but tried not to show it
“I must leave before the morning comes,” He stated giving her one last pat on her shoulder,
“I will return in two weeks, watch out for my letter before then. Goodbye then, my dear.”
Emer nodded as she opened the door for him. He went out into the gravel, mounted his horse and with one look up to the room where the prince surely stood watching, he took off into the night.