บท 16: Lockdown
Another night; another banquet. Snow sat in his father's seat with Ali and his stepmother on either side, watching the masses entertain themselves. No one seemed to truly know what the intention of this gathering was, anymore. Half were in a state of mourning, the other half taking any excuse to indulge themselves with drink, even if it was the celebration of Snow's newly granted kinghood they didn't inherently approve of. To some, the evening might appear more like a failing circus act. Confusion wafted throughout the room. Loneliness captured the hearts of many, no longer hearing Arthur's thunderous voice and tossing drinks with everyone present.
Ophelia leaned slightly in Snow's direction. "Wake up," she spoke softly. "Try to straighten yourself. Shoulders back, now. It'll make you appear more authoritative."
He did so without question. "Thank you," he whispered, casting a tired glance towards her.
She nodded.
Ali squeezed Snow's hand in his own under the table. They had hardly spoken to each other that evening, yet Ali would always give a calm, serene smile to Snow and nod his head every so often if only to silently say "I know. You're hurting." It was a silent act that eased Snow's heavy conscience every time. He could relax just a bit whenever he felt the heat of Ali's hand encase over his own, and the other prince's thumb rub softly along the back of his palm.
He was at a loss for what to even say or do for that matter. Around this time his father would interrupt everyone to give a sporadic speech that would entice all their guests and send the evening into a passionate frenzy fueled with positive energy. Yet Snow could barely find the strength to lift his fork for the smallest morsel of food. Instead, he picked at his plate, letting his train of thought derail to a point where he didn't even notice that he was letting grapes roll into his lap.
Ophelia shut her eyes for a moment, shaking her head when she saw. Again, she leaned close to him. "Try to hold yourself together, at least until the evening is over. Look around you," she pointed with her eyes to the audience. "I know this is a difficult time for you, but it is for all of us." A sea of faces washed over the court, mingling with each other. The sight was overwhelming to Snow, making his gut twist into knots. "There's not a single person here who is not mourning Arthur's passing. You're not alone in this."
He was hesitant to respond. "I understand. Still, what am I supposed to do in this situation? All these men were my father's allies; not my own. I hardly know anyone here, save their name and what business they had with him."
"That's part of the job. You'll have to rebuild their alliances, discuss partnerships, and gain their trust as Arthur did. Knowing how to act and remain grounded in these kinds of situations can be the defining moment of anyone's opinion on you, for that matter." Ophelia's eyes scanned out the room smiling and waving at whoever she made eye contact with. This earned her similar gestures in return. "You see, Snow? Tis' a bit of an art form; an act, if you will. To gain trust, you must know who to rightfully pay mind to. Go on, try a simple gesture towards anyone here, even if it is only a greeting or a dance."
Snow gulped but knew there was truth to what his stepmother was saying. He couldn't hide behind a banquet table in his father's chair the entire night. "Alright, but first…" he reached over and took a swing back from his chalice. The bitter, dry substance burned his throat as he swallowed and held back with all his might to not double over in a spasm of coughs. Then, he stood, letting go of Ali's hand.
"I'll come with you!" His partner stood with him and saw Snow's face soften.
"I'm afraid I must advise against that, Your Highness." Jafar stepped in, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere.
"I- I beg your pardon? Why shouldn't I? I'm his fiance. We're to rule together, are we not?" Ali pinched his brows together, turning his stare at his father's vizier.
"I mean no disrespect but do forgive me. You see, in this situation, it might be best for Snow to gain the respect of his father's court and partners on his own. You both will have your duties to face and must learn to be able to handle yourselves just as Arthur and Sultan Huran did. Wouldn't you agree, Your Majestys?" His last question was directed at both Huran and Ophelia.
Paribanu shifted her gaze, staring daggers at Jafar. Her fingers curled into a fist, clutching the fabric of her dress.
Huran pondered for a moment as he stroked his beard. "Well, given the circumstances, could anyone blame emotional distress? Then again, what you're saying isn't incorrect. You both will have to make these kinds of choices and build relations for yourself when at-rule. Maybe this could be a learning experience for Snow."
"I couldn't agree more. I'm sure he's more than capable of it." Ophelia said with a smile and a nod.
Snow held his hand up, palm facing Ali, commanding him to stop. "I'll be alright," he assured him. "A king must learn to do things themselves, shouldn't he?" Snow gave Ali an awkward, less-than-confident smile as he straightened his clothes.
Ali blinked and swallowed. "If you say so." The frustration could be heard clearly in his voice. "Just wink at me and I'll come to pull you back to safety. Fair?"
"Fair!"
Watching Snow head into the crowd felt like he was watching a bird fly from its nest and into a raging storm.
He was off. Snow stepped around from the table into the court space, and...immediately felt lost. There was no plan, no objective, or anything. What's more, hardly anyone here held him in high regard. Walking up to just about anyone and striking up conversation seemed pointless and intimidating. Yet, here he was, mingling as best he could with anyone who seemed friendly enough. Snow spied a face he was certain of only to address them with the entirely wrong name. Another guest he had asked about the incorrect business they were associated with. It was a disjointed effort, begging for his leave. Snow sighed deeply, pinching his brow.
"Perhaps now would be a good time to pull him away," Ali whispered over to his father and sister, sitting beside him. He bit his lip as he spoke.
"Absolutely not," Huran demanded, keeping his eyes on Snow from afar. "He must learn to handle himself in these situations, just as you did."
"He cannot rely on others for diplomacy his entire life," Jafar commented.
Paribanu's eyes flashed at her father, then Jafar, and then at her brother. The two siblings shared a look and in just a few short blinks they were in sync with each other. She nodded, as did he. "Really, you two? Throwing a rabbit into a den of lions without even a weapon to defend itself?" she huffed. "Everyone must learn to stand on their own, but...a bit of help is never something to be ashamed of."
Ophelia's eyes flickered in their direction, and she smiled. "And what is it that you mean to do?"
Pari smiled back and bowed her head. "Nothing that would interfere with this educational trial you've put up to him." She stood, as did Ali.
"One more attempt," Snow muttered to himself under his breath. "I won't retreat until I've done at least one thing right!" Once collected, he looked up and saw a small gathering of folk at a nearby table. His ear twitched upon hearing half of their conversation. A calm grin appeared on his face as he approached them.
"I can't recall actually. When was the year the walls were torn down? Thirteen? Fifteen years ago?"
"Certainly not! I'd swear it was much longer than that! Twenty-five."
"No, no. That can't be correct. I distinctly remember it happening after the prince's birth. It couldn't have been that long ago."
"Pardon me," Snow interrupted, keeping one hand behind his back as he approached their circle. "You are correct in that it happened after my birth, but only a few years. I was three years old, putting the date roughly twenty-two years ago."
"Ah, yes! That was it! Thank you, Your Highness," one of them said with a slight raise of their glass. "We were just reminiscing about the reign and achievements of King Arthur's time. Such a good man, your father was. Please, accept my humblest condolences in your loss." His voice was solemn as he shook his head.
"Tell us, Your Highness, we had only known him as a King and a trade partner, a diplomat and things of the like. Is there a way only you can truly remember him?"
Snow, caught a little off-guard by the sudden question as he felt his head spin for only a moment. It was only a second longer until several memories rushed to him. The only matter was choosing a suitable one to share. "Far too many," he exclaimed. "I can recall the many nights he mourned those who died during the summer plague of fifteen years ago. Or how he'd wake every morning and thank the divine for the warmth of the morning sun. However, I knew him not just as a righteous king or a leader, but also as a father. He'd never let the week go out without making time for either of his wives nor allow a hunting trip go by without myself or other apprentice hunters reciting something new we'd learned."
"I'm sorry, did you say he...wept for the summer plague victims?"
"Impossible! Never could anyone imagine such a thing: King Arthur in such an emotional state."
"This is true, I tell you. Father, strong as he was, wept at any tragedy that befell on the kingdom that was beyond his control. His sorrow was so great that it's the very reason he installed the memorial plaque with everyone's names engraved at the cemetery. He always believed that no one should truly be forgotten for any sacrifice they made, nor because their time ended sooner than expected."
"I say! Here I'd thought that was just a roost to appease the common folk. But, isn't there another plaque or something similar?"
"I believe you're referring to the one plaque in the town square. You know the one! Those of the tragedies that befell during the wall's deconstruction."
"Ah, yes. Now, who could forget that? Not the happiest moment during his rule."
"Yes, about ten people died when the city wall crumbled, crushing them."
"Well, it wasn't exactly King Arthur's fault? Who could have predicted an earthquake would occur that morning?"
Snow's eyes kept darting back and forth between their comments. "It's true, he couldn't have expected that, but that's why he felt the accident was so tragic, despite the low number of casualties. My father mourned their loss and paid tribute to each of their surviving families in person."
"Yes, I recall that, myself!"
"I hadn't known at all."
"This was before you had entered Arthur's court, I believe. It was said that he saw that each of the victim's families received double the promised payment for the wall's deconstruction and a private memorial service. Truly a fantastic man."
"Indeed, my father was," Snow gave a weak, but assuring nod to his guests.
"Why were only the walls surrounding the nation's border torn down, but none surrounding the town or the castle?" Another guest spoke up.
"King Arthur was ambitious but not stupid," one person laughed. "He still cared about the safety of others and wanted to assure the security of his people in the event of invaders.
"AH! That makes sense."
"Yes, I suppose it does."
"Tell us, Your Highness, after all, concerns are settled and your erh- wedding is over with, what will be your first decree as King? Do you know?"
"Not yet, I'm sorry to say. There is still much that must be discussed between myself and Sultan Huran. There are also concerns with my stepmother. However, my father always said that a wise man shouldn't act until the moment is right, and not just because the opportunity is present."
"That's just what I'd expect from his son." The company nodded confidently to Snow. "Perhaps Arthur was right, placing his faith in you. If you can rule with every bit of wisdom as he did then we just might be able to set everything on the right course forward."
"I have every intention of such, so long as I rule," Snow's eyes glittered with satisfaction for himself. "Father wanted to transform Stone Roll from a stone prison to an open world where everyone could prosper and find the opportunity they need for the life they want. I have every plan to continue his vision. It is just a matter of how to go about it."
"Come, let us raise our glasses in a small toast. To the late King Arthur, and his son, Prince Snow!" It was a sorrowful, somewhat depressing gulp they each took from their glass, but Snow felt a little content with it all. At least one conversation had proven to go well. Maybe he was cut out for this after all; it just took a little time to get used to everything.
"Your Highness, one thing I've wanted to bring to your attention is how- "
The music changed. A melancholic melody disintegrated and was quickly washed over by a powerful tide of drum beats, filled with energy and a delightful swiftness. In the center of the court, Paribanu could be seen dancing alongside Ali. Her voice rang out in a passion, singing in her native language. It was a song not known to the common folk of Stone Roll, but well known to King Arthur's court, having shared celebration customs with the Waning Sands for several years now. As Paribanu sang she attracted the attention of the room.
Ali was light on his feet, spitting flames and sparks into the air, quick to twirl his hand and with a wave, they took shape. He flashed a smile in Snow's direction, putting on as flamboyant a show as possible. Fire depicted hoards of birds, dragons, insects, pixies, and even fireworks. The two siblings knew just how to lighten the grim atmosphere, and entertain all who watched.
"Ah...it would seem the rabble has taken over."
Snow's attention was snatched by the sudden comment, looking back at members of the group that had just shared wine with him. "They are not rabble. They are my future. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
The atmosphere was lit ablaze when Snow stepped into the center of the court and placed his hands around Ali. A tango was ensured by the two, their dance intertwining with the fire flying through the air, raising spirits as Pari continued singing. Nobility joined with each other and hands crossed over with other guests, people exchanging partners across the floor. For a shining moment, it felt as though anyone's sadness had vanished, everyone surrendering to enjoyment as they danced. When all ceased, there were thunderous cheers and laughter from the court.
"I thought you weren't supposed to save me?" Snow whispered in Ali's ear after finding his way back to him.
"We didn't. We just thought we'd make it a little easier for you," he murmured back, smiling as he did so.
"It's difficult to gain political favor when the mood is so grim, don't you think?" Paribanu chimed in with a playfully scheming smirk on her face.
Snow shook his head at them both, rubbing his forehead. "I couldn't ask for a better team than you both." They shared a laugh as they all made their way back to their table.
The doors swung open, the moment interrupted the royal guard entered alongside a tall, thin man in a black cloak, dark gloves, a wide-brimmed hat, and round spectacles. Around his waist hung a leather-bound book with a quill and a small container of ink. Glass vials of all kinds strung around his belt. A poorly folded piece of parchment was in hand. The man's face was red, breathing sporadically, and hoarse. He coughed into a handkerchief until he could regain himself, having arrived in a hurry. It was the royal chymist.
"Erh- Good evening, Doctor Allwissend." Snow said as he rose from his chair. His eyes scanned his accompanied guard, far more than necessary for a simple entrance. He gulped, feeling a slight shiver run over him. He didn't like this but knew he had to remain vigilant instead of jumping to any conclusion.
"Your Highness," he said as he removed his hat and delivered a low bow to Snow. "Nobility," he said as he quickly turned to the guests. "And your Majesty," he addressed Ophelia. "Please, pardon me, but I fear there is urgent news to be delivered!"
Ophelia rose. "Then pray, good William, tell us swiftly."
Snow's eyes glanced in the queen's direction, and then back to their new company. He nodded.
Allwissend, though having made such a burst entering, now hesitated as his eyes looked about. His hand hovered in front of his face with his handkerchief until finally he begrudgingly clenched it in his fist and tucked it away. He held the other up for everyone to see the parchment. "Behold. Here are the results of the late King Arthur's autopsy. We've been able to break down the compounds of his blood and skin samples and have discovered a true cause of his demise!"
There was a collection of gasps and murmurs from the nobility as he unfolded the parchment.
Snow didn't say anything at first. He stood there, motionless, staring at Allwissend. It felt as though a stone had lodged itself in his throat. "Tell us," he croaked. "What was discovered?"
Allwissend adjusted his glasses slightly, looking over the paper. "For the past three days, we had been dissecting and examining the samples extracted from the late King Arthur's ear as it was the only site of any wound inflicted upon him. Traces of scorched skin and inflamed tissues were also present. Upon deeper inspection, the contents of his blood contained another substance- a deadly poison!"
There was a pause as the audience gasped.
"There is no doubt that given the signs of struggle and evidence that another person was present at the time of his death, the late King Arthur's death was a homicide! Yet that is not the only conclusion reached!"
"And what else did you find?" Huran thundered, standing.
Allwissend stared at him with a profound, confused look about him and then snorted at the Sultan. "As if you hadn't known? After further examination, the active toxin in the poison was none other than a suspicious venom which we identified to belong to none other than…the dagger-back serpent!"
Huran froze, as did Ali and Paribanu. Snow gaze immediately shot directly at them. There was no rage, nor incomprehensible fear, but instead his eyes showed desperation and fear. Confusion washed over him. He felt light-headed, sickly even. It couldn't be true, could it? "Ali…?" he murmured.
Ophelia rose, glaring daggers at the Sultan. "Is that so?" she spat. The looks being shot across the room between the two nations held a thick tension. Men had their fingers toying around the handle of their blades.
"The what?!"
"I've never heard of such a creature," some called out.
"Listen, then!" Allwissend raised his voice. "The dagger-back serpent is a particularly rare breed of snakes found only past the Southern Mountains, across the valley in a neighboring nation known none other than…the Waning Sands."
Blades were drawn.
Within seconds the entire hall's celebration had shifted, ready to turn into a slaughterhouse. Royal guards held their spears and halberds at the ready, pointed at those from the sands as they surrounded Doctor Allwissend. Curved swords and Arabic chants were being muttered under each other's breath as mages readied themselves.
"THEY KILLED HIM! THEY KILLED OUR KING!"
"What other proof do you have?"
"Don't try to talk your way out of these! The devil's in the details! We all heard Doctor Allwissend! Someone from your kingdom poisoned King Arthur!"
"Who's to say it you didn't murder your own?! Anyone can get their hands on venom if they know who to ask!"
"That's rich, coming from you filthy desert dwellers! You heard the doctor himself! The snake is only from your nation!"
A divide spit across the hall. Tables were pushed aside by soldiers jumping back from as a wall fire suddenly erupted, separating them, roaring, and seemingly conjured from thin air. It had fuel of any kind, yet it grew hotter, louder, and brighter as Jafar stepped forward from around the royal's table. "We have much less conspicuous ways to assassination. Do you think we'd be that stupid to use the venom of a snake so rare?" he spat at the nobility. He raised his hand and curled his fingers.
The others watched in horror as the fire engulfed across the stone floor, threatening to devour anyone too close.
"That. Is. Enough!" Ophelia's voice pierced through the noise of the hall when she stood. She tugged her cape delicately in her hand as she slowly walked around the table, eyes leering over the crowds. No one was spared from her threatening gaze, not even her own people.
"Huran! Call off your dog this instant!"
Jafar sneered at her, eyes ablaze with disgust. The wall of fire hissed, burning hotter in his rage.
"Your Majesty!" Paribanu stood in protest, stuttering in her fit of anger to a point where she slipped in her nation's native tongue. "H-how DARE YOU call him such a thing!" To the Waning Sands, being compared to a dog was a grave offense. Any peasant would be met with their tongue being cut off. Did Ophelia know this? They weren't sure, but the words had already been spoken and the damage dealt.
"Do it, now!" she commanded once again.
Huran, although furious, turned his attention to Jafar and nodded his head at him. "Cease this, Jafar," he said bitterly.
He leered at the sultan and gritted his teeth. It was with great agony that he looked back to his divide, curled his hand into a fist, and pulled it back to tuck into the folds of his robes. The flames dispersed, leaving the hall in a moment of awe and silence.
Just like that, the tension in the room was held together by a single woman's will. When she spoke again, her authoritative tone commanded all attention. "Has Stone Roll not always been a nation of grace and diplomacy? Let us not forget what brought us here tonight. We came to mourn the departed, my beloved husband; not to shed further blood. Is this how we wish to end this evening?"
"T'was they who brought this evening upon us!" a nobleman yelled from the crowds.
"We demand justice! No mercy!"
For a single moment, Ophelia exhaled, and turned her gaze down as she did so, most likely to remain composed. "True as it seems, Arthur was one who never jumped to conclusions and slaughtered innocents over a single bad apple."
"And I suppose you want us to wait patiently for the next nobleman to be killed?"
"No!" Ophelia turned her gaze slowly and pursed her lips. "I want...the new king to decide the best course of action." She was staring at Snow, and so did everyone else in turn.
"What?!" He was caught off guard and jumped to his feet. He remained behind the table, looking over the sea of faces, his stepmother, his lover, his subjects.
"We are celebrating your ascension, are we not? Let this be your first decree, why don't you?"
All eyes were on Snow, and he gulped. In not even a moment, he had to assess the situation, weigh the pros and cons, and make a choice that would lead to the most satisfying conclusion...but for who? Was he supposed to think about himself? His stepmother? The nobles? His citizens? His lover? Their guests? He couldn't order executions, nor could let anyone go unpunished. Snow was sweating. He needed to stall for time.
He looked at Ali, then back to the masses, and in a huff, he gave the order. "Close the castle gates. No one is allowed in or out!"
"What?!"
"Snow!"
"Your Highness! You can't be serious, can you?"
"Can we say with certainty that whoever poisoned father is here?"
"Well...no, but we do know that everyone who was there that evening is here now."
"Then do as I say. Close the castle gates. Have the guards search everyone's room no matter who they are. Let no stone go unturned! Those who have nothing to hide need not to worry!"
"This is preposterous! You heard Doctor Allwissend, yourself! There's no way anyone from your father's court could have killed him."
Snow smashed his fist on the table. "Father is gone!" he said in an outburst. "I will not let his death be overlooked. I will not let any chances be missed. A criminal may be among us, or they may not, but I will do what I think is right. We've got to do this swiftly and without granting special treatment to anyone. A guard will be posted at everyone's door this evening, and will they patrol the city and villages until we find any leads as to who is responsible!"
He paused to glance at Ophelia and then nodded at her. She returned the gesture.
"It is as my stepmother said. Father never slaughtered the innocent over a single bad apple or threw blind punches until he knew his target's weaknesses. If that means we have to perform a witch hunt then...so be it."
The entire hall was flung in chaos. The banquet was over- guests being escorted back to their rooms. Not a soul was being left unsupervised whether be servant or nobleman alike from either nation. Snow watched from his throne at the head of the court, drumming his fingers on the armrest and biting his lip. "Have I done the right thing?" he asked himself under his breath. There was no time to second guess himself. With another moment he shook off his hesitation and nodded.
"Snow!" A voice thundered. It was Ali's. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?!"
He blinked, his face softening as he stood to face Ali. There was confusion, even hurt in his lover's eyes. "I'm doing what's necessary to keep everyone safe, and that includes you, and Pari, and your father as well!"
"Snow…"
"Your Majesty." A guard approached, stepping between them. It was the same guard as the previous night who had stopped them on the stairwell. "The guests are being escorted as you ordered. Shall I see Prince Ali in his room as well?"
There was a moment where the two's eyes met. Ali reached past the knight to take hold of the newly appointed king's hand. "Snow! You have to believe me! I assure you that nobody from our kingdom would have done this!" The room was erupting into a fit of chaos as guests were filed from the great hall. "This wasn't supposed to happen! Please- Snow...I'm so sorry. Can you still trust me?!"
Another moment passed in slow motion as Snow held gently around Ali's, rubbing his thumb over the other's knuckles. He nodded. "Ali...I trust you, but now things are different. I have appearances to keep up, a court to satisfy, and...there is a murderer afoot. People must be protected." Snow looked towards the guard. "You may escort us both back to our separate chambers this evening, Captain. Make sure that no one is harmed, but that no one's room is left unchecked."
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