Acclayne Book 1: The Game Begins
Chapter 9

Methyn eyed his breakfast suspiciously. He had never been a big fan of breakfast; preferring to knock back a large mug of Tea instead. The King was sat at the head of the table and although he wasn’t watching his guests Methyn thought it would be quite rude not to at least attempt to eat some of the food that had been placed in front of him; though the King himself seemed more preoccupied with pushing his food around rather than eating it. The table had been filled with plates and bowls containing all manner of breakfast foods. Methyn opted for a slice of buttered toast and a small bowl of muesli. The children, on the other hand, were not quite so restrained. Kaylaer had piled her plate with more fried meats than would possibly fit in her small stomach, though she intended to try her very best. Malcolm was sat next to her and picked a little bit of everything. He enjoyed slices of apples, grapes, strawberries and even nibbled on a slice of a long, yellow fruit out of curiosity but wrote it off as a failed experiment. He had heard tales of the sweet gooey fruit and had expected more from it, but instead he found it stuck to the roof of his mouth and was covered in unappetising bruises. Cortharen could keep their bananas as far as he was concerned.

Methyn rubbed his eyes as he forced another bite of toast down his throat. He had insisted that he share rooms with the children; if anything happened to them it would be his head on the chopping block, even though this morning it felt like it was. They had behaved themselves for the most part, which he was grateful for, and aside from Kaylaer pushing Malcolm a little too roughly off the bed and giving him a slight concussion, they got on well enough. So much so they kept him up until some god forsaken hour talking about Kaylaer’s little ‘adventure’ earlier that evening. Apparently she had stumbled across some drunken thugs and had taken them all on herself. She had been doing fine, thank-you-very-much, until some stranger appeared out of the shadows and helped her take out the last of them. How many there had been Methyn wasn’t sure as more seemed to appear every time Kaylaer spoke about it.

The hall they were sat in was just as grand as the throne room. Daylight shone down on the long table from the many tall windows that were lined up along one side of the room. Methyn sat back in his chair; the whole thing was padded and he felt that if he sat there long enough he would undoubtedly fall asleep. The large stone room was quiet apart from the sound of the children eating. Even the guards beside the doorway were silent and unmoving. Methyn admired their discipline. He would have been less impressed had he known that one of the reasons for their stillness was that the Guard on the right; the one who had let them in the previous night, was more than a little hung over. Having finished his shift later than he intended he had met up with one of his friends and fellow guard at the Inn around the corner from his house. It seemed that his friend had been getting into fights again and looked a little worse for wear so he had bought them the first few rounds. The evening had been going well and he was feeling quite relaxed and happily intoxicated when he had let slip that he had been having a bit of a fling with a married woman. Nothing serious, he had explained to his friend, he wasn’t even really that interested. They had a bit of a joke about it at the time; no decent women left in Corthus, even the married ones were a bit iffy ‘Har Har’. That was of course until it came to light that the married woman in question was, as it happened, his friend’s sister. The punch to the face hadn’t been very funny; and it was even less funny now his cheek was swollen and his head was pounding.

The guard on the left side of the door was barely hung over at all. Nothing like a fight and a broken hand to sober you up.

The quiet in the hall was broken when the Queen entered;

“Good Morning everyone I trust that you slept well?” She beamed brightly at her guests. The King did not look up from his plate to greet his wife, he felt it wrong to be cheerful under such circumstances. If the silence that greeted her bothered her it wasn’t visible on her face as her cheerful smile stayed firmly in place. “I apologise for my lateness to breakfast but these dresses can be so bothersome to put on.” She gestured to her gown and let out a small rehearsed sounding laugh. She looked immaculate in the floor length, boned gown. It cinched her in dramatically at the waist before flaring out slightly at the hips. The crimson coloured fabric complemented her milky complexion. Kaylaer wondered briefly what it must be like to be constantly on show; to mind your behaviour all of the time, but it was a passing thought quickly forgotten as she shovelled more fried bacon into her mouth.

The Queen quietly spoke to each of the guards before joining her husband at the head of the table. They left the room uniformly; one after the other so it was the guard with the bruised face that spotted the slender red-head descending the stairs first. She wore a gown not dissimilar to the Queen’s. It was less regal; the pattern on the fabric not as detailed, the waist not as cinched, and the skirt not as long but the deep green colour contrasted beautifully with her hair and the movement of the fabric afforded her a graceful fluidity of movement that was uncommon among most ladies of the court. It seemed that there were some decent women left in Corthus after all.

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I had slept too well and woken up with that heavy headed feeling of having slept for too long. Having someone dress me was an interesting experience; though I had had to struggle with my new under-garments myself. I managed to discover that the young maid sent to help me was named Agatha. She was a small, timid thing and if I had to guess her age I would put her somewhere in her mid-teens. But who knew in this place? She could be in her forties for all I knew. She had blonde hair which was tied up into a messy bun and her small hands worked quickly on all of the various buttons, laces and attachments on my dress. Though her own dress was somewhat less complex, I could see that she’d done this before. Juney had joined me mid-way through Agatha trying to pull my corset tight at the back. Somehow she had managed to escape being dressed and was instead clad in black trousers and a form fitting black jumper. She laughed when she saw the expression on my face as I struggled to breathe. Luckily she persuaded Agatha to stop as apparently I would actually be required to move today. Quietly and now slightly embarrassed, Agatha excused herself. I eyed myself in the mirror; my red hair hung down over my shoulders; whatever shampoo they had given me this morning had left my hair soft and bouncy. I’d have to see about taking some back with me. Juney explained that she wouldn’t be coming with me to breakfast but would be joining us later as she had an errand to run. I noticed that she smirked a little to herself but didn’t elaborate further. There was something about that little smile that made me uneasy; I had the distinct feeling that I didn’t want to know what her ‘errand’ was.

So it was with that that I found myself descending the grand staircase by myself. I held the skirt of my dress up a little ways like I had seen the ladies do in period dramas though I don’t think it made moving in the dress any easier. My legs felt as if they were becoming tangled in the countless number of petticoats beneath my skirt and I felt that at any moment I was going to fall head first down the stairs. Looking up briefly I caught the eye of the two guards standing outside what I presumed was the dining room door. They were watching me intently and I wondered if I looked absolutely ridiculous trying to walk down the stairs in this get up. I was surprised as I moved; however, that the corset didn’t restrain me too much and was no worse than the top I had arrived in. As I managed the last few steps I cheered silently to myself; the guards still watching me, I smoothed myself down and tugged a little at my skirt. I wasn’t the most ladylike of women but they would just have to get over it. Head held high, yet still a little self conscious, I walked past them and into the hall. Though I was becoming a little wary of her, this would have been a lot easier if Juney had been with me.

Methyn was focused on playing with the last of his muesli when he heard movement across the room. He knew who she was the instant he saw her; the long red hair, her slender body structure, even the slope of her nose. She was the image of her mother, well from what he had seen in books anyway. She was a fair bit shorter than he had expected; perhaps even shorter than himself and he was of an average sort of height for a Corthean. He noticed as she walked towards the table that her movements were effortlessly graceful though her slightly shaking hands betrayed her nerves.

“Ah! Good morning my dear, do sit.” The Queen greeted her from her chair next to her husband. No one made an effort to get up to welcome her. “I would like to introduce Alaina Oakley… Junior. May I say that your outfit this morning is far more suitable.”

Kaylaer noted that the Queen’s comment wasn’t quite a complement though she could not see anything wrong with Alaina’s outfit. She wouldn’t have picked it herself; she was hardly the dress-wearing type. She reasoned that it made it that more difficult to win the fights she always seemed to get herself into. She also noticed Alaina’s reaction to her introduction. Was she not aware that she was named after her mother? Apparently not. Weird. Who hadn’t heard of the famous Alaina Oakley? If Kaylaer could choose to be like anyone it would be her. She was the strongest, most powerful hero that Corthus had ever known. Well, if she was being honest, probably the only hero Corthus had ever known. Looking at the woman sat in front of her Kaylaer could feel anger rising in her chest. Who was this woman to wear the name Oakley and not even know what it meant? She caught her eye and smiled at her. Kaylaer grunted in response, bit a large chunk of sausage off her fork and looked down at her plate. She could feel Alaina still looking at her so she turned to Malcolm, to distract herself, only to find that he was staring purposefully down at his plate.

“What’re you waiting for? It’s hardly going to get up and dance is it?” She nudged him with her elbow but got no response. “Hey if you eat all your breakfast you might grow up to be big and strong… like me! Ha!” Still no response; she had come to expect him to go crying to Methyn whenever she teased him but this time she wasn’t getting anything. It was bloody frustrating. “God, what is wrong with you?”

“Shut up Kaylaer.” he mumbled, his cheeks were beginning to flush red. She wasn’t expecting that response. She looked up and saw Alaina leaning forward over the table in front of them; her dress revealing more of her cleavage than she probably realised. Kaylaer shook her head and punched Malcolm gently on the arm but said nothing further.

I studied the two children sitting opposite me. The girl who had been glaring at me since I walked into the room was now busying herself with harassing the boy next to her. I had originally thought that maybe they were brother and sister but now that I sat so near to them I could see that there was no physical likeness there at all. The girl had blonde; almost white, hair. Even sitting down she was obviously tall and sleek whereas the boy sitting next to her was shorter, stocky, and had dark hair and eyes. Judging by the condition of the clothes that they wore they were also not the King and Queen’s children.

I wondered what kind of palace this was, where royalty seemed to pick guests at random, when I spotted an older man sitting a few chairs away from the children. Most of his breakfast was uneaten but his teacup seemed permanently attached to his lips. As the children squabbled quietly I noticed that his eyes closed in an effort to block them out; clearly he was with them, though definitely not through choice.

The room was quiet apart from the hushed argument between the children. I felt like there was a weight on the room and the more I thought about it the more uncomfortable I was beginning to feel. Without Juney around the gravity of my current situation was beginning to hit me. I had no idea why I was sitting here; how these people knew who I was; who these people were let alone where I was geographically. I could feel my pulse beginning to quicken, my breathing becoming shallow. I hadn’t had a panic attack since I was nineteen when I woke up hung over and half naked next to my best friend’s brother. Turns out I had gotten obscenely drunk, made a pass at him; despite the now obvious signs that he bats for the other side, and had passed out face down on his lap in their living room. I suspect that the subsequent vomiting was more to do with the vodka than the panic attack.

Then, as quickly as it started, the panic building in my chest vanished. I could almost literally feel a wave of calm wash over me. I knew that my reasons for worrying were valid, and that I probably should be freaking out completely, but for some reason I couldn’t work myself up to it. It was with that that Juney strode into the room and pulled up a seat next to me, she spun it around masterfully with one hand and straddled it back to front. With her next to me my worries seemed to melt away completely. She grinned at me briefly before turning away and I couldn’t help but think that the affect she was having on me was deliberate.

“So, what’s the plan?”

The King said nothing for a moment; Juney’s brashness and over-familiarity unsettled him. Though he had had the displeasure of meeting with her several times already he was still unaccustomed to her behaviour, but then he was not in the habit of associating with known criminals.

Juney Cholden came highly recommended by his own chief of police. Notoriously hard to catch and contain it was a miracle that they were able to get hold of her in the first place; let alone get her to agree to work for them on official royal business. It seemed; however, that the incentive of immunity was quite persuasive. The King himself had been the one to suggest this but was now beginning to question his decision; who knew what damage she would do once all of this was over. The Queen, on the other hand, was insistent that if Juney Cholden was the best, then that was who they needed; regardless of her questionable career choices. The Princess’ safety, she had reminded him was not a matter to be taken lightly. He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand; he had not needed to be reminded of the gravity of the situation; his daughter was his only child and he doted on her completely. That something might happen to jeopardise her safe return home was unthinkable: the King had not slept in weeks. Since the death of his younger brother some years ago, his wife and child were the only family he had left. The only family he could trust at any rate. He stood slowly to address the room;

“We believe that my beloved daughter is being held somewhere near to the Cortharen Palace, if not inside the Palace itself. It is unclear, as of yet whether or not this is a scheme concocted by the Royal family or whether this is even on their radar; so it is best not to speak of this to anyone. The less information we can keep from leaking into public consciousness the better.” The King was relieved to see the people before him nodding in agreement. “We shall arrange for you to rendezvous with a representative of the royal family to discuss the matter three weeks from today,” less reassuring was the look of panic that appeared briefly on Methyn’s face when he told them of the time restraint, “ yes, the trip will have to be made swiftly and I appreciate that I am expecting a lot of you but you shall be amply rewarded upon the safe return of my daughter. Now, the exchange should be fairly straightforward. Methyn,” he turned to the Deputy Headmaster, “you shall be put in charge of the ransom. As someone of your standing in the magical community I trust that we can count on you?”

There was a brief silence while Methyn was unsure whether or not the question required an answer. He gulped loudly and replied in the affirmative.

“After the exchange is complete I expect you to return as quickly as possible. Understood?” Again the collection of people at his breakfast table nodded. Relieved, he sat down. His head in his hands again he did not notice the look of confusion on Alaina’s face, the Queen; however, did.

Having been quiet until this point the Queen cleared her throat. “Alaina, dear, I appreciate that this must all be quite overwhelming for you.” She paused briefly, her smile was still firmly in place. “You must understand that you are an integral part of this team. Our precious Stella was taken from us weeks ago. My husband has barely slept since we discovered that her carriage had been intercepted on one of her jaunts out of the Palace. It is dreadful to think that someone would put someone's life in jeopardy in order to gain financially, but sadly this is the world we live in. I dare say we shall never let the poor thing out of our sight again.” She turned to her husband as if expecting an answer. When no response was given she turned back to Alaina and leaned in ever so slightly. “Stella is quite beloved of the people of Corthus, if they were to get wind of her kidnapping there would be a public outcry. We simply cannot afford for that kind of thing to interfere with her safe return. It is quite well known that she does not leave the Palace often, so we should be able to retrieve her with little suspicion…”

“…Um, Your Highness?”

“Yes dear?”

“I’m still not quite sure what this has to do with me. You say I’m integral yet I have no specific skills that would be beneficial. I’m a pretty good journalist but I don’t think my interviewing skills are going to be of much help…” Alaina was interrupted by a sudden eruption of giggles from the Queen.

“Dear you are going for appearances alone. You are the daughter of the infamous Alaina Oakley; your reputation precedes you.”

“If I may your Highness; that is my mother’s reputation, I have no training whatsoever.”

“We are hoping that reputation is all you will need, of course we shall sort you out with all the training you need when you return. You shall prove to be quite the asset to us I am sure.”

The smile that was fixed to the Queen’s face while she spoke to me was quite unnerving to say the least. She seemed a lot more confident than I in the plan and this bothered me. I was the one putting my life in danger; not she. I turned to Juney for some support but I found her shovelling pancakes into her mouth. I pinched myself under the table, just in case I could wake myself up from this madness. No such luck. Magic, Royalty, kidnapped princesses? When did my life turn into a fantasy-drama? Just what was it that my mother did anyway? My father had told me she’d travelled the world in search of adventure before he had met her, I suppose I had just always assumed he meant my world. To find out that she was a famous Glakyrian warrior was a shock to say the least. I was being sent on this mission as the muscle; on my mother’s merit. I couldn’t say that I was particularly confident with the decision; I had problems defending myself from spiders. With Juney there for protection and to make up for my lack of training the least I could do was try: though I didn’t have much choice in the matter it seemed.

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