The Butterfly Effect

Everyone had their place of comfort; a place where they could rest, recover, and prepare for what the real world held for them. For some, that place was simply their home, wherever that home may be. For others, it was anywhere they could get a drink, somewhere they could hide from their responsibilities. They drowned their anxieties in different ways, whether it be by avoiding people or embracing bustling town life. If not just subconsciously, they knew a place that could give them solace. An instinct, one could call it.

His special place was not at his home—quite frankly a source of anxiety rather than a reliever of one—nor in the midst of a crowd. It was far from any civilization, really, far enough away that it seemed no shadow of the capital could loom over him. He was the only one who knew the path well enough to move through it with ease.

The lazy river’s gurgling was the sign that he was there. He quietly dismounted, patting his horse and whispering a little thanks to her. This would be the only time he’d be alone for a while, and who knows how long it would be until someone came to get him. The lines between light and shadow blurred after nightfall, allowing other creatures to roam the land.

To anyone else, it wasn’t a significant place at all. The river ran by, a miniature waterfall giving an ambiance he came to enjoy. Little sunlight was able to find its way through the leaves overhead, consequently making it cooler in the shade. Many creatures considered such atmospheres home, shown by the birds’ playful banter, the rustling of foliage made by the deer, and the bright insects darting from one tree to another. It was simply another section of the forest, living peaceful lives away from the humans and their struggles. He mused what it must be like to be one of those animals… observing history from the least important perspective, rather than living it as the one meant to make it.

He took a handful of bread crumbs from his bag, sat down, then scattered them in front of him. It was only a moment of waiting before a phoenix swooped down from the branches to enjoy the free snack.

“You’re about to burn out, aren’t you?” His musing didn’t bother it; in fact, it didn’t seem to realize he was there at all. “Soon you’ll be swallowed up by what little flame still exists… then you’ll be reborn and experience the joys of living and the pain of being burned alive all over again.” He dared to move his hand a bit closer, patting its head as soon as he knew it wouldn’t mind. “How many times have you done it? How much longer do you need to stand as a sign of what happens to fools..?”

As if responding to his mumbling, it gave a weak chirp. It ate a bit more until getting disturbed by something, giving a vain attempt of flying back up to its original position before settling to flee to the bushes.

“May you one day find peace, Ekambar. One day… when you can finally join the rest of us in death.”

The reason for the phoenix left was apparent soon enough, the rustling heralding the arrival of his not-so-subtle visitor.

“You’ve figured out riding bareback is less conspicuous, I’ll give you that. But it’s still kinda obvious where you are when both you and a horse are missing, Imre.” Kiah and her mount fully emerged from the bushes. By physical evaluation alone, one would almost immediately assume her to be a regular goblin; she was short with barely shoulder-length, mossy green hair. The first thing that people would realize to suggest otherwise was the white-and-blue cloths and armor that designated her as a soldier in the Seothian army.

More specifically, the poor soul in charge of being the prince’s guard. His guard.

“I’ve only just gotten here,” he tried reasonably. “Can’t I stay a little longer?”

His attempts of gaining sympathy from her didn’t work, however. “Hell no! You’ve already gotten me in trouble once today. The longer we stay here, the more worried Minne gets, and the less likely I’m going to get paid for this. Come on.” She gestured back in the direction she came from, nodding to his horse. “You know Lelishara’s safer than out here once night falls.”

“Alright…” With a defeated sigh, he mounted. He started the horse off at a trot as she turned hers around, then they stayed as side-by-side as they could in the forest.

“You need to stop running off,” Kiah mumbled after a moment. There was a sliver of concern in it—more than just about her job. “Especially when there’s important stuff you’re supposed to be a part of. Casper was waiting a whole half hour for you.”

“I have no reason to be there,” he pointed out quietly. “It’s about matters that will never concern me. Father will live long enough for my son to take the throne, skipping me entirely. Practically every other Seothian king did it; there’s hardly anything that can be done to make this any different.”

“Then forget the meeting part. You should be able to figure out when you shouldn’t run off.” She gave a curt wave to their surroundings. “In a forest, alone, unarmed, and nearly dark. You’re lucky I’ve been with you long enough to know where you were. No one else would’ve been able to find you in time if something had happened.” She paused. “I’d be impressed by your ability to find the most out-of-the-way places to get away with people if it wasn’t so damn annoying.”

Imre didn’t respond. He followed her lead all the way back to the capital, mourning the loss of solitude. The city was rather busy, for a place with only a handful of permanent residents, though the only ones who seemed to notice them was the occasional soldier. He only started to truly feel all the eyes on him when they’d put their horses in the care of a servant and actually entered the castle.

He knew he looked like he was sulking. His head was down, trailing behind Kiah without saying a word. He didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings, which ultimately led to him almost falling over from the full weight of a sixteen-year-old.

“Oh, Lydia.” Kiah stopped and turned around, but showed no interest in helping the prince.

“Enn! Please get off of me!” Imre made a conscious effort not to simply shove her off. He was able to move enough to actually see her before asking, “What do you want..?”

Lydia, from the looks of it, seemed to have arrived shortly before they did. Her shoulder-length, messy black hair was still tied up in the ponytail she put it in for riding; her red sundress was still covered by a rose gold jacket. She smiled innocently as she told him, “You looked all gloomy, I thought I’d try to fix it. Also I came to tell you that Casper’s got something really important to tell us.”

That… didn’t sound reassuring. It made him wonder if he’d gotten in trouble for something. He glanced at Kiah—she would know if there was anything to worry about. She either didn’t know or wasn’t going to say anything, because she maintained the same indifferent expression.

“Lead the way, then,” Imre decided. He appeared a little more attentive at the thought of doing something wrong, close to a self-defense mechanism to try to garner at least some sort of leniency.

Lydia turned around and guided them to the dining room. She didn’t give any regard to the conversation that was presumably going on, simply shoving the doors open and going to her own seat… or rather, one that she’d claimed after realizing that it had no proper owner.

The room itself was simple: a long table took up the majority of it, with twenty-one seats total. The one at the very end, of course, belonged to the king. On the right side of that chair would be his wife’s seat, and the left the next in line. A chair beside either one was reserved specifically for other family members. Ten were used for the members of the council and the remaining were generally reserved for region overseers.

Minne was at the king’s right hand, greeting the three of them with a warm smile. Anyone, from a glance, would be hard-pressed to find any similarities between him and her aside from complexion; the only thing that proved a familial bond between them was their same leafy green eyes. Nothing was done to her apple-red hair, simply allowed to fall naturally over her shoulders and down her back. Despite a simpler dress, the love the king had for her was clear.

Sitting in the spot of the Court Magister, observing a pink rose with a rather bored expression, was Samone. Her muted pink hair was separated into pigtails, the side of her bangs nearly covering one of her eyes. She had on a perfect dress for the summer weather, a mix of different shades of pink and decorated with rose gold jewelry. Even from here he could smell the rose scent—something that would’ve been pleasant, perhaps, if they didn’t all know what it hid.

Finally, occupying a seat beside the prince’s, was Dimas. He was the only one wearing long sleeves, though for somewhat troubling reasons; it hid plenty of scars and reminders of a home life that only recently improved. His short ash-blond hair was curly enough it was hard to tell if he’d done anything with it at all.

Lydia wandered to an empty seat close to the others, without consideration towards who was meant to sit there. Kiah respectfully stayed by the door, even if no one would’ve minded if she joined them. Imre went to his place as the prince, welcomed by Dimas’s smile. He felt like there was someone else who should’ve greeted him, yet her name, face, and smile was lost on him.

“Father’s not here yet,” Imre observed.

“He needed to take care of something first.” Minne was talking to all of them then, though it wasn’t obvious until she continued. “I can tell you know that you’ll be going on a little trip. But that’s nothing new for the five of you, so I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Samone remarked sarcastically. “I always love dropping everything at a drop of a hat to go do something completely worthless in the end.”

“It’s not worthless,” Lydia mumbled with a frown. “How come we’ve done this for two years and you still haven’t found a single thing you like about it?”

Dimas tried, and ultimately failed, to change course to something less likely to start an argument. “I’m guessing Domenique’s not coming, then?”

“Of course she isn’t,” Kiah scoffed. “She’s got all that magic training to do—the only one of us who can somehow find an excuse and everyone else goes along with it.”

“Let’s all save this for when you know what you’re doing,” Minne advised calmly. “I swear there used to be a time where you all got along…”

“We never did, Mother,” Imre sighed.

A servant gently opened the door, drawing him out of his reverie. She bowed to the group of royalty and nobles before announcing, “King Casper will be arriving shortly. He has requested that you all be ready to listen when he comes.”