~*~
To Donald’s surprise, he received an invitation to a special meeting scheduled to occur right after breakfast time. When the servant who awoke him told him he was ‘requested and required to attend,’ he felt apprehensive. The officious phrasing seemed ominous. He almost never attended official meetings with his father. The fact it would be held in the throne room suggested it would be a large, formal gathering.
He dressed conservatively in gray slacks, white shirt, and a black jacket with silver piping. Black, polished boots completed the ensemble. He hoped the outfit would help him portray an aura of competence and maturity.
In his eagerness, he arrived early. Servants still straightened rows of chairs filling the room from the dais at the front all the way to the back doors. Each chair sported a nametag tied to the back with blue ribbon. He found his assigned seat immediately, one of several identical ones toward the back near the door. This seating normally held the technical experts and other subordinate bureaucrats who were expected to listen but not speak unless called upon to do so. It was certainly not the place of honor from his daydreams, but then nothing in the last two days had gone the way he had envisioned it. At least they included him.
Other people began to arrive in inverse order of their station, it seemed, with the most highly placed arriving the latest. He nodded at his older siblings when they entered the room, and he gratefully noted that Robert and Chastity sat as far from the front as he did. Allan, as his father’s heir, held a privileged place in the very first row.
The throne room filled from the back forward until all but one seat in the very front, other than the rear facing thrones of his parents, remained unoccupied. Amid the low rumble of conversation, Donald could make out snippets suggesting the other invitees knew little if anything more about the purpose of the meeting than he did. It must somehow be connected with the Gotroxian situation, though. He feared it might be to announce they would be going to war.
A hush fell when Horace Barter entered. All eyes followed the boney, black robed form of the king’s chief adviser as he slowly walked toward the dais.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise, for the King and Queen of Westgrove.” He announced them in a voice much louder and firmer than his lack of physical weight and his abundance of years would presuppose one to think possible.
All eyes turned toward the main door where King Leonard of Westgrove, formally dressed in robes of green and gold, entered the room. He even wore his crown, something he almost never did. The queen walked by his side, dressed just as regally. She also wore her crown. Donald felt momentarily stunned. His mother never participated in policy meetings. This would not be a meeting. This would be a pronouncement!
Anticipation hung in the air like heavy smoke as the royal couple made their slow and regal way through the room and up the dais to their thrones. They both sat and assumed the familiar, dispassionate masks the king deemed appropriate for the formal dispensing of royal decisions. He looked at his subjects, focusing on none, and began.
“You may be seated.” He paused to allow them to do so before continuing. “For months we have been aware of indications of hostile intent by our neighboring kingdom to the east. As time has passed, our sources have continued to uncover information that could be supportive of such intent. However, it is our royal opinion that these reports are inconclusive.”
Donald almost leapt from his seat in excitement. His father believed him!
“Therefore, it is time to go to the source.”
What?
“In two days, a royal delegation shall embark to confer with King Motte of Gotrox.”
A low murmur of whispered voices rumbled from the crowd. A royal delegation meant one or more of the royal family would be going. His father would not leave Greatbridge at a time like this, and he certainly would not send the queen.
“This very morning we have seen additional reports, one even suggesting that the rumors regarding the Warden of Mystic Defiance are not completely groundless. This is clearly a matter of the highest import, and we believe including one of our sons in this delegation will make it clear to the Gotroxians that our attention is focused and that we shall not tolerate any dissembling on their part.”
One of his sons? Allan? This would certainly make sense. Perhaps he meant Robert who worked in Military Intelligence. It would be good experience for him.
“After careful consideration, we have selected Prince Donald to represent the Crown of Westgrove in this endeavor.”
All heads turned as one toward Donald. He tried to hide his surprise and shock. Why him? Why not? This was wonderful! No, terrible. Terribly wonderful? Damn, he needed a chance to think and maybe lie down.
“As he is young and, as yet, inexperienced, he will simply be providing a royal presence. The negotiations will be handled by our trained diplomat, Barnabus Snyde.”
Donald felt confusingly both disappointed and relieved he would not be handling that aspect of it. Barnabus Snyde? He did not recognize the name. From the blank looks around him, few others did, either.
“Ambassador Snyde was selected some time ago and has been undergoing intensive instruction on all aspects of the current situation by our trusted chief adviser. We have every confidence in his abilities.”
Barter trained him? He probably chose him too. This meant the chief adviser, the number two suspect as the brains behind Kwestor’s imagined conspiracy, would effectively be in charge of this pivotal encounter with Gotrox. Suddenly, the old scout’s theories seemed a little less unlikely. Donald would certainly have to keep a wary eye on this Barnabus Snyde. What if all of the people in the delegation were working for Barter? Now he sounded as paranoid as his old guide did. Another thought popped into his head. As a prince, Donald would certainly be permitted to be accompanied by a retainer or two. Yes. Maybe even… He would think on it some more later. He needed to pay attention now. He did not want to miss what his father said.
“We will also be sending a troop of our own guards as escort and other support personnel as required. We expect and require all of you here to make the preparation of this delegation your top priority. Its success is paramount to either avoiding a war or winning it if it turns out that war is unavoidable. That is all.”
The crowd rose along with the volume of numerous different conversations as the king and queen left the room.
Donald shuffled among the crowd making toward the exit, suffering several wishes of luck and congratulations. He responded to most of these with a meek smile or a nod and a mumble. In two days, he would be leaving for Kartok. Only the rest of this day and the next remained to do—what?
He glanced behind him toward the now empty thrones. The advisers who, in most cases, also served as the heads of their respective departments, stayed behind as did the king’s chief adviser. They stood in a group, engaged in conversation. Barter must be giving instructions, preparing for the journey ahead. Donald would have to do the same.
Chapter Twenty-One