Lost Ones - A False King

’My family lived in Treewich, a small village near the border of Londe. Treewich is surrounded by wide fields, some of them running inland, others giving way to the dense forests that mark the edge of our country. Deep within those forests is a stretch of land between our country, Londe, and that of our enemy, Rilgohin — the sun-scorched swamps. I remember the cracked ground and the shimmering air above the wetlands from back then, when I was still a small boy. But I had not been here for many years, since the swamps have long stood under our enemy’s control.

The Rilgohiners are dissidents from Londe who did not agree with the principles and structures that governed there. So they left Londe and founded a country of their own, one whose values stood against ours. The High Council, the highest authority in the world, seated in Londeeyeof, the capital of Londe, paid these rebels little attention at first. But as more and more people left Londe to settle in Rilgohin, the High Council no longer stood idle. The fear grew that the defectors might raise an army of their own and bring the Council down. This led to a conflict between the two, one that reached its peak when Rilgohin occupied the swamps — untouched for decades and held to be neutral, sacred ground. In Treewich, the tension was constantly palpable, and the fear of possible attacks before dawn was omnipresent.

It was strange when we reached the village. It seemed the place had stood still in time, and only I had changed. Would it be the same out in the sun-scorched swamps?

Harsh sunlight forced its way through leaves and branches, revealing veils of mist around us and lending the place something almost mystical. It was not easy to move through it — poor visibility, soft ground, damp air. The suffocating silence made our breathing, and even the fall of a leaf, sound unusually loud. What unsettled me was not the silence of our enemies, but our own. Nobody wanted to say it aloud, but we were all thinking the same thing. It hung in the air and sat in our stomachs. With every step deeper into the swamps, we looked over our shoulders more often, our hearts beat faster, our hands grew damp. The deeper we went, the closer we came to our deaths. And still, far beyond all reason, we pressed on into their territory. What chance did we have against the Rilgohiners, or against those superhumans, as many called them in those days? Those who were given that title, we knew only as the four princes and rulers of Rilgohin — the Lords of House Wynfre.

But what made them so special?

Was it the fact that, even though their country was the smallest of the four nations involved in the war, it waged war against the other three at the same time and managed to win? Was that why we were out in those swamps? To drive them back? We were a small group. No more than two dozen men. Our general, Akasha, had succumbed to his illness some weeks before. In his place, the High Council had assigned us two new generals, and they had led us here without speaking a single word to us... until...Something rustled in the treetops and in the bushes around us...Voices began to whisper...And then... an ambush!′

“Lina... Lina...” calls a woman’s voice. “Are you not awake yet? Would you open the door, please? Lina!?”

Three women stand outside the door. Two of them are dressed in black, with white aprons and white caps.

“Where on earth is Cecie?” asks the youngest of them all, snappily, given the time pressure they’re under.

“She’ll be here any moment,” answers the third woman, pacing nervously and rubbing her hands.

This woman is dressed neither like a maid nor like a woman from a middle-class family. Her apricot-colored, form-fitting, ankle-length silk dress flatters her figure. She hides her red hair under a large sunhat, which draws attention to her small, upturned nose and narrow lips. Around her neck is a ruby-red necklace with a pendant made of tiny diamonds shaped like a castle battlement. On her right leg she wears a dark stocking, as she does on every other day. This is Lina’s mother — Joane Elmhart, Queen of Rilgohin.

While the three of them wait for Cecie, a narrow strip of sunlight falls into the dark room, reaching right up to Lina’s bed curtain. Behind it lies Lina Elmhart, wide awake, though she has buried herself deeper in her woolen blanket since the hammering on her door began. In her hand, she holds a book, trying to shut the world out. Fortunately for Lina, Cecie had not only lost the key this morning, as agreed, but had also left a box of matches in her room last night. There was one last match left in it, which Lina used to light the candle on her nightstand. The light was enough for her to read the book in her hand.

Another maid hurries across the freshly cleaned terrazzo floor towards the room.

“About time,” says the eldest of the three women, relieved.

She has long, straight hair, brown eyes, and a birthmark on her left cheek. She carries a large parcel tied with a silver ribbon. She is the housekeeper of House Elmhart and Joane’s right hand. When Joane is not present, she directs the maids. Beyond that, she is a close friend of Joane’s — Suse Bricton.

Standing next to Joane and Suse is the Elmhart family’s youngest and newest housemaid. Her hair is dazzlingly white. She has two braids tied with a blue bow, blue eyes, and symmetrical features. Her name is Sarra.

“You’ve got some nerve, losing the key on a day like this,” Sarra remarks in her shrill voice.

Cecie ignores her as she steps up to the others.

“Your Highness.” Cecie bows quickly, but with respect.

Like Suse and Sarra, Cecie is dressed in black and wears a white apron and a white bonnet. She is tall for her age, has shoulder-length dark brown hair, and her arched eyebrows above her brown eyes are, in many ways, more expressive than some people’s words.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me yesterday,” she says.

She moves past them quickly, without meeting anyone’s eye.

“Cecie, you know I don’t like being addressed as Highness.”

“Forgive me. I’m still a little scattered.”

“It’s all right,” says Joane.

With a slight tremor, Cecie inserts the key into the lock. Only when it turns does Lina spring into action. In a flash, she blows out the candle and disappears completely under her blanket with the book. A moment later, the maids sweep into the room, Joane behind them. Suse hands her the parcel and hurries to the window. She pulls the dark curtains aside and opens the window. A gentle breeze of summer air brushes through her hair as small white clouds drift across the blue sky. A warm, sunny day lies ahead. Cecie and Sarra walk straight to the four-poster bed and gently push the curtains aside. Meanwhile, Joane surveys the room after a floral scent catches her nose. Sarra clears a tray from the room that holds a sugar shaker, a spoon, an empty tea glass with a used tea bag, and an empty matchbox. Opposite the window stands a low, round table with two white wooden chairs. In the corner behind it is a partition made up of five pine panels, which Suse and Cecie have pushed together and set up next to Lina’s bed. They then position themselves next to the bed, as Joane approaches, step by step.

‘Oh dear,’ Lina thinks to herself, sitting up straight, yawning, stretching and rubbing her eyes, as if she’d only just realized there was someone in the room.

Joane sets the tone: “Happy…”, whereupon Suse and Cecie link arms and begin to sing and dance – a traditional tap dance performed during every birthday song in the royal house.

Joane sways her whole upper body left and right in delight.

After they finish, Joane very nearly calls for an encore.

While Lina hopes she’ll never have to perform this dance herself, she appreciates the gesture nonetheless.

“Happy birthday, darling,” says Joane, and hands her the gift. Lina leans forward to take it. They hold each other tightly before she carefully opens it.

“That’s from the three of us together,” says Joane, while Cecie and Suse wink at her.

Lina removes the wrapping, opens the parcel, and her eyes go wide. She springs over to her mirror and holds it up against herself.

“It’s the latest trend in Londe, and we thought it would be just the thing for your first day in the city,” Joane adds.

“And yours was just a souvenir, I suppose?” Lina asks.

“Well, it was within budget. And it is all the rage in Londe,” Joane says with a smile.

Lina returns the smile before explicitly thanking Suse and Cecie as well. The two of them wave it off with a casual gesture.

“What are you waiting for?” Joane asks. “Try it on.”

She then instructs Suse and Cecie to help her. Lina excitedly follows the two maids behind the partition.

“Please powder her a little and do her hair before she comes out.”

While they are getting Lina ready for the day, Joane’s eye is caught by the book peeking out from under Lina’s duvet. “Can I have breakfast first?” Lina asks at the same moment.

“You’ve been reading that book again, haven’t you?” Joane answers with a question of her own.

“Yes, last night,” Lina replies quickly.

“Lina, you don’t seriously expect me to believe that you read that book for the last time last night, do you?” says Joane.

“But it’s true,” Lina says, working her way into the dress.

“The smell of the candle tells me otherwise.”

“The smell is lying.”

“Lina,” calls Joane, now exasperated.

“What?” Lina asks, but she can sense her mother’s deadly serious gaze even through the partition.

She sighs.

“I’ve just been re-reading the details of the decisive battle in the northern swamps.”

“How long have you been awake?” Joane presses.

“Even before the birds began to sing,” Lina replies meekly. Joane rubs her forehead, while Suse rolls her eyes. Only Cecie acts untouched.

“But Lina, you know the whole story by now,” her mother says, picking up the book.

‘Memoirs of the Four-Crown War’runs down the spine of the brown volume in silver lettering.

‘Generals, Field Soldiers and Citizens — Their Stories’, the cover adds.

“You know how much I like to read,” Lina says.

“We can buy you some new books if you’d like,” Joane suggests, putting the book aside.

Lina doesn’t reply, while Cecie and Suse are already busy doing Lina’s hair.

“Or is it the brave soldiers in it that you’ve taken a liking to?”

Joane looks towards the partition, the corners of her mouth lifting. Suse doesn’t need to see her friend to know where this is going.

“I’ve heard that the young soldier Enryn Barber is due to be promoted to the Royal Guard shortly,” she says.

“Really? The tall one with the brown hair?” Joane asks.

“No, that’s Gylan,” Cecie replies. “She means the blond, slightly stockier one who always wears his hair all tousled and sticking up.”

“Ah, yes, that one,” Joane remembers. “I do hope so. Then I can get a closer look at him.”

“Mother, stop, this is embarrassing.”

“Isn’t that the boy you’ve been raving about to me?” asks Cecie, rather hastily.

Lina turns red as a tomato because Cecie has given the secret away and because it’s true. Her mother and Suse can’t keep the grins off their faces.

“Soon, you won’t need to read a book about brave soldiers – you’ll have one right by your side,” Joane says.

“Mother, please!”

“I won’t let it go until you tell me why you skipped breakfast only to pore over this book,” Joane retorts, “certainly not because of the brave soldiers.”

Lina snorts.

“Father said I must know this book inside and out in order to fully understand our country’s history, so that I would be well regarded in society,” she reveals.

“Ed said that?” Joane asks, surprised.

Lina’s hair is finished, and Cecie begins with the powder.

Suddenly, they hear footsteps in the corridor, which stop outside Lina’s room. Four men, two on each side, position themselves in front of the door. They carry spears as weapons and wear red cloaks over their silver-and-gold armor. On their chests is emblazoned the royal family’s coat of arms: a white castle battlement, with a golden sun rising behind it - a coat of arms that was to become the symbol of a new era after the war. Hope after darkness. Order after chaos. Peace – under their rule. To protect their identities, they conceal their faces behind closed helmets. That is the Royal Guard.

More footsteps sound as a slender, middle-aged man steps through the door. He wears a golden crown set with small green emeralds on his thick, dark-blonde hair. Furrows run across his forehead, but his weathered cheeks are the most striking feature. Today, he wears a knee-length dark blue men’s tunic, emblazoned with the royal crest on the chest. It is fitted at the waist and fastens with three shiny buttons across the chest. The white lace cuffs fall over his hands, concealing both his silver wedding ring and the Penatin crystal ring, which ranges in color from a mineral-like pink to reddish-brown. This is the current ruler of Rilgohin – Edmur Elmhart.

“Well? Ready?” Edmur asks. “It’s late.”

“Not yet,” says Lina. “I haven’t even had breakfast.”

“She’d have been ready long ago if you weren’t pressing her to learn that wretched history book by heart. You’ll drive the girl mad,” Joane says, before Edmur kisses her cheek.

“What!?” he asks, taken aback. “That part of our history is an important chapter of our lives — the reason we are in this position at all. I don’t want—”

Suse and Cecie shriek.

“Mister Red! Mister Red!” Lina calls.

Edmur and Joane come rushing around the partition. “What is it? What happened?”

They can’t believe their eyes. Suse and Cecie’s hair is a complete mess, and they’re both out of breath. Edmur and Joane are puzzled because Lina stands innocently between them, arms clasped behind her back. As if they’d practiced it, Edmur and Joane say at the same time.

“Wow.”

They are delighted by the sight of their daughter.

“You look lovely, dear,” says Edmur, and hugs her. “Happy birthday.”

Since Lina doesn’t want to just stand there like a statue being hugged, she has no choice. She lets something slip from her hands onto the floor so that she can hug Edmur. At first, Edmur doesn’t notice anything. However, Joane’s eyes now widen as her gaze meets that of what appears to be a monster. A nimble, shaggy creature scurries across the floor. Just like Suse and Cecie before her, Joane now lets out a loud shriek. Her screams frighten the others in the room even more than the nimble, shaggy thing itself. Joane has only one goal now: Get out!

She takes off running as fast as she can out of the room. The others watch her go, utterly baffled. The only things she leaves behind are a cloud of dust and the echo of her screams, which quickly reverberates throughout the entire castle.

The Royal Guard bursts in. The tips of their weapons are pointed at the brown partition. “Sire, is everything all right?”

Edmur is just about to explain when he suddenly jumps in surprise as this nimble, shaggy creature climbs up his leg at breakneck speed. He tries in vain to shake it off, until it jumps from his shoulder onto Lina without a hint of shyness.

“Mister Red,” Lina exclaims happily at first, until she notices Edmur’s annoyed look. Lina swallows hard, while Mister Red turns up his nose. Edmur has had several outbursts of anger because of Mister Red. Like that one time when Lina had sneaked Mister Red in for dinner. When the meal was served, he jumped right onto the dining table. Lina’s mother, who has a phobia of wild animals, was so startled that she nearly knocked the whole table over, causing two of Lina’s grandmother’s porcelain plates to shatter. To this day, Lina admits to only bearing some of the blame for this incident. But Edmur’s subsequent tantrum was so violent that she realized it would be better to keep Mister Red away from her family in the future. Because when Edmur is in a bad mood, it’s best not to be the reason for it. Lina has learned this the hard way more than once. But on this particular day, Edmur pulls himself together. Now that any doubts that triggered his wife’s outburst have been dispelled, he calms down again.

“You still have this—”

“Squirrel,” Lina quickly adds.

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“Because I’m not allowed to have a dog.”

“But why in the world a squirrel instead?”

“He’s my most loyal friend and protector,” Lina explains.

“You mean because he saved you from the foxes once? When you wandered off from the group because you had the brilliant idea of raising a fox cub as a pet.”

“Exactly,” Lina confirms, full of enthusiasm — then backs off as it dawns on her how selfish and unkind that had been.

“The foxes attacked me, but Mister Red jumped in and distracted them so I could get away,” she says. “Even though my behavior put him in danger too, he’s followed me everywhere ever since and never left my side.”

Edmur scratches his head, unmoved by the story. He recognizes there’s no point arguing with her, or working himself up about it even further — not with so many witnesses in the room, and not today, on Lina’s special day.

“And Vyncent isn’t allergic to him,” she adds.

Edmur draws a hand down over his face.

“Oh, child, you’ll be the death of me,” he groans.

“Finish doing your hair,” he says directly to the maids. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Lina begins hopefully: “With—”

”Without the squirrel!” Edmur quickly interjects, already sounding much more decisive. He then sets off with the Royal Guard to search for his wife.

Left in the room are the disheveled maids, the disappointed Lina, and a reddish-brown squirrel with a long, bushy tail, short front legs, and toes that resemble human fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Lina says. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Because Edmur’s last words hadn’t been meant for her, but for Suse and Cecie, whose hair the squirrel had thoroughly ruined.

“It’s all right,” Cecie says. “I should have left the hazelnuts downstairs.”

Suse, on the other hand, is rather upset.

“Yes, you would have,” she adds loudly, grabbing Lina’s brush and stepping in front of the tall mirror on the wall. “I know you don’t care, Cecie,” she says. “But some people do make an effort.”

“But I didn’t even—”

Lina takes Cecie by the arm. Their eyes meet, and Cecie trails off. Suse’s posture in front of the mirror makes it clear that any further words would fall on deaf ears. It takes a while to get the last knot out. Then Suse walks to the door.

“Are you coming, Lina?”

“Could you give me a moment?”

“I’ll wait in the corridor.”

“I’ll clean the room then,” Cecie chips in.

Suse doesn’t reply. Only just before the door closes do they both hear what she mutters.

“That’s the least you can do.”

Cecie groans. “She thinks she’s something better, just because she’s close with your mother.”

“She didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, she did.”

“I think you look great,” Lina says encouragingly to Cecie.

“That’s easy for you to say,” says Cecie, flopping down onto Lina’s bed. “You’ve always got ten helping hands to make sure you look great.”

Only after she says it does she realize what she actually said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.” She gets up again, contrite.

“It’s all right,” says Lina sympathetically, with a smile.

Cecie looks over at Mister Red, who is sitting relaxed on Lina’s shoulder, nibbling on a hazelnut.

“Perhaps he can help me with his feather duster,” she says, to change the subject. Mister Red looks up, taken aback, before turning his attention back to his hazelnut. Even Lina can’t help but giggle before she sets Mister Red down on her windowsill and then turns her face to the sun.

“What lovely weather,” she says. “I’d love to take him with me.”

“You know that’s not possible,” Cecie says. “If the castle’s less crowded today, I’ll let him run around freely for a bit.”

“Thank you, Cecie.”

For a moment, they take in the sweeping view before them, looking out over a large part of the forests to the east and a stretch of the mountains to the southeast.

“Was it expensive?” Lina asks then.

“Was what?” Cecie asks, puzzled. “Oh, the dress? Hardly, when you’ve got the Queen of Rilgohin at your side.”

They laugh together, and Lina can breathe again.

“All right, then,” she says. “How do I look?”

Cecie looks at her from head to toe. The dress is the same as her mother’s, only in turquoise. Her light red hair is pinned up, revealing Lina’s small, slightly protruding ears. Above that, the silver chain bearing the royal emblem rests on her forehead — a gift from her father for her tenth birthday, which she only wears on special occasions. Beneath it are the freckles that no layer of powder can ever quite conceal. Cecie needs just one word for it. “Adorable.”

And with that, her fourteenth birthday can officially begin — Lina’s first day beyond the castle walls.