"My liege, the messengers from King Jonathan from Tortall have arrived." Having delivered his message, his advisor turned to go, hive crimson cape sweeping across the marble floors.
"Wait a moment. The messengers from Tortall?" The king, a strong, broad-shouldered man with a distinguished look about him, waved a long-boned hand. "What say the messengers from the warrior clan of Catalonia?"
The short man hesitated. "They have not arrived, sir. Dermail sent his daughter Dorothy to meet with you in hopes of forming an alliance against the growing powers in the West." He coughed. "An alliance in marriage, if you so desire."
The king frowned. "I have but one son."
"Tortall grows stronger with every passing day. It is said that Jonathan possesses the Dominion Jewel. War, or even resistance against him, should he choose to attempt to conquer other lands, would be difficult on our own."
"I see. So I either bargain my son away to a warrior huntress or lose my Kingdom?"
The man shrugged helplessly, for the King was right and they both knew it. "It seems that way, your Highness." He paused. "The messengers from Tortall...they did not seem hostile towards you."
"You're saying they, the so-called power in the West, would want to ally with us? That's..." Intriguing. Was Tortall not as strong as everyone had thought, or had Roald's legacy of peace truly taken root in the minds of the people? "I see."
"They await your presence at Court."
Damn it. He should never have left the rest of the messengers. But no, little Nanashi had decided to take on the larger than life palace by himself. First the rose gardens, then the large hall stocked with musical intruments he'd never heard of, let alone seen, before. Then, with a shock, he'd realized he was completely and utterly lost.
A slight blonde girl passed by him without even shooting him a second glance. He felt his question die in his throat. He was about to go chasing after her when a hand suddenly came down on his shoulder. He jumped, feeling the silk beneath the hand bunch.
"What are you doing wandering around?" a deep voice boomed. "You where the uniform of Tortall. Shouldn't you be with the other messengers?" The implications of his wandering around unchaperoned held grave consequences.
"I--"
"Rashid!" A clear, masculine voice rang out; he turned around to see a blonde boy, his features the same as the girl's, running towards them. "Father has been looking for him, as well as the other messengers. It is easy to get lost in this maze," he added sympathetically. Rashid looked at the brown-haired boy doubtfully, but said nothing.
"Come," the blonde boy said, taking hold of his arm with gentle hands. He jerked slightly as he felt the warmth of his touch. "I won't hurt you," he said calmly, looking at Rashid for some kind of reassurance. Aftre a moment, feeling his resistance lessen, he led him quickly down a staircase hidden behind a dark red tapestry.
"I'm Quatre. You must be Trowa," he said conversationally as they pattered down the spiral steps. "We've been awaiting your arrival for a while, now. How do things fare in Tortall?"
Trowa considered. "Well enough, I suppose. How do things fare here, in the Kingdom of the Sea?" The blonde laughed. "It's a fair enough question," the brown-haired boy said, feeling somewhat defensive.
"True enough and fair enough. Things fare well enough; my eldest sister Elena has just had her second child. Blonde, like all of us." He sighed, running a hand through his flaxen locks. "Here we are--! Go quickly inside, before Father notices you--oh no..." He gulped as the tapestry hiding the entrance into Court was suddenly yanked aside.
"Ralph!" Trowa said, gulping at the dark-haired man. "I--"
"Nanashi!" he bellowed, grabbing his arm. "You're late, as usual. Can't keep your mind on business, you have to go off, playing that flute, or picking those daisies..." Yet there was a hint of amusement about him. "We've given the King the message, and we're to be escorted to our rooms now."
"You play the flute?" Quatre interjected, his brilliant teal eyes alighting with interest. Trowa nodded. "You have to play with me, then! Did you see the Great Hall, with all the instruments? Let's go then, it's been ever so long since I've had anyone to play with..."
"All those instruments are yours?" He felt a bit light-headed.
"Some of them belong to my sisters," he admitted, tugging him gently back up the stairs and away from the prying eyes of the Court nobles. The doors and curtains of thte Great Hall were thrown open by the guards as they passed, revealing in the sunlight what Trowa had only glimpsed in darkness.
Metal curves, gloriously shiny stained wood, thousands of strings, all heaped together. He picked up a flute, noting the old-style head, and frowned at the red dust coating it from disuse and ill treatment. "It is a sin to let such things degenerate," he said with feeling before he could stop himself. Quatre only laughed.
"It is good to find someone who shares my opinion in that respect," said the Prince quietly. "Play something; I want to hear how good you are." Blushing, Trowa lifted another flute, in better shape, to his lips and began to play.
End Chapter Six
Ariana
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