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The Sun & the Rose

by soulpillar

Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Research & sketches

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Author's Notes:

This is a notice to those people who have been following the story for a while.

S&R has undergone a re-write! Read from chapter 8 onwards to get the full story. The rest of the story remains largely untouched except for an exchange in chapter 5 between Celestia and Noble Era.

Otherwise? Please, continue and enjoy!

The castle was quiet now. A pair of heavy leather bootsteps and hoof-falls echoed throughout the otherwise silent stone corridor.

Rays of morning sunlight filtered through stained glass windows. Gareth couldn't bring himself to stop and take a look at the no doubt elaborate stories the pictures held. He was tired, bloodied and carried an injured load that was in worse shape than he was.

At least they were easier to carry than Celestia. Gareth stopped, shrugging the slung pony a little more over his shoulder. Noble Era's head lolled forward, idly twisting in unconsciousness. Occasionally, his greased-back mane brushed a sweet-smelling oil across Gareth's cheek. Greasy and messy, yes, but at least he was not struggling to walk.

"Styre?" Gareth said, glancing over his shoulder.

Styre looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow. Perhaps it was because Styre was not carrying a heavy pony, but he did not look as tired as Gareth felt. They had both walked all the way back to the castle. No chariot, no escort, neither of them wanted to risk it or draw attention to themselves. After last night's events, no one was above suspicion.

They turned right, into a hallway that Gareth had only vanishingly remembered from a week ago. The red cross over Doctor Legata's office was still there. He peeked inside the open doorway, spotting that same clear bed.

Styre went in first, glancing about the room. He sniffed urgently, scowling at the corners. Within a few seconds, his shoulders and ears relaxed. Finally, he turned to Gareth, gesturing him inside.

Gareth wasted no time. With a weak grunt, he gently laid Noble Era down. Unfortunately, spreading out the injured pony posed a unique problem. How did ponies lie down? Celestia seemed to be able to bend her legs out at impossible angles for an equine. Gareth knew damn well that normal horses couldn't do that. Yet, Era seemed almost comfortable when lying straight.

Gareth shook his head, stepping back. Noble Era was hurt, but so was he. What's more, his hands were filthy. He would need to clean himself up before beginning.

Suddenly, Doctor Legata was standing behind him.

"Fu-!" Gareth spat, stumbling back. A pair of angry pink eyes glared up at him, then to the patient laid down on her observation bed. She must have come out of the room adjacent to this one, or from the hall. Even Styre looked a little startled at her appearance.

Legata brushed past Gareth's leg, nudging him out of the way. Rearing back, she placed her forelegs on the side of the bed and looked Noble Era up and down. The red cross cutie mark twitched with her flank as she leaned forward. A moment later, she turned away, nodding in satisfaction.

She turned to Gareth, glaring at his chest, then up to the side of his head. Gareth grimaced, remembering the Pega-guard's hoof strike. He reached up to his chest, idly dabbing two fingers in his still-damp shirt. The blood had turned brown by this point. Head wounds always gushed, no matter how small they were. This one had stopped a while ago. Unfortunately, explaining to a physician that a wound wasn’t as bad as it seemed was never easy. Now he had to try it through a language barrier.

Her horn lit up in pink.

Gareth caught his hand just in time, resting on his dagger's hilt instead of drawing it.

A moment later, the magic aura wrapped around Gareth's body. This was one of the many spells he had been subjected to when they had first met. She needed to resort to her small instrument to read Gareth's heart rate in the end. Why did she bother?

Styre trotted over to Legata, speaking a few words to her in Equestrian. Her lips curled in distaste, glaring back at Gareth. She nodded after a few moments, the aura fading into nothing. She muttered a few words back. With a haughty sniff, she turned back to Noble Era, gently turning his limbs over.

Gareth sighed in relief, giving Styre a thankful smile.

Styre smirked back, heading over to a closet. He pulled it open, rooting through a few of the shelves before pulling out some blankets. With his teeth, he dragged them over to the corner of the room and set them out. Sighing, he tucked his forehoof underneath his chin and laid down.

The closet held shelf after shelf of concoctions and herbs. If they weren't in clearly marked bottles, it would have looked like a chef's pantry. Gareth stepped towards it, gingerly pulling one of the shelves forward with his clean hand.

This one seemed to hold plant products. Strange roots, stems and leaves were held inside small jars and bottles. Something glinted light into Gareth's eye. A shiny oval shape rested near the back; a hand mirror.

Gareth lifted it to his face, getting a good look at himself. He wish he hadn't. Dried blood ran down the side of his face like solidified gravy off the side of a dinner table. Brown stains covered the right jaw-piece of his head guard. Christ, Cecilia was going to kill him.

His shirt was in no better condition. Blood had soaked through most of it, trailing down to his navel. Oh God, what about his jacket? That luscious, expensive, tailored jacket. Cecilia had specially commissioned all this for him; there was not anything else like it in the land. He had destroyed it in a single day and night.

Heavy hoofsteps came to a halt at the doorway causing Gareth's ears to prick up. Only one pony sounded like that.

There she was, still just as naked as three hours ago. What's more, she was huffing. Had she ran all the way here? God, he could smell her from here, her natural musk even stronger than last night. An unfamiliar cocktail of perfumes wafted along with it, possibly a last-minute attempt at hiding it.

Cecilia's eyes widened as she finally caught sight of him. Those eyes immediately traced from his temple to his shirt. Her muzzle twisted as she strode forward in a mixture of worry and disappointment.

"I'm fine," Gareth said, holding up a palm. That did not stop her.

"Thank goodness you're speaking English again," Cecilia said. Her white, unadorned forehoof reached forward, tracing around his injured head. "You're still bleeding; I thought I told you to take care of that?"

"I am," Gareth turned around, pulling out another shelf. Then another... then another. He leaned back, glaring at Legata's apathetic back, "Where do they keep the honey and ale? I thought her medicine was supposed to be advanced!"

"Gareth, here, let me." Cecilia's long white horn glowed gold as it brushed close to the wound. The sound of magic rang in his ear. "This might hurt a touch."

A sensation like fingertips tapped across his temple. At first it didn't hurt, then they got closer, and closer to his wound. Suddenly, pain spiked through his head. Gareth grit his teeth, willing himself not to cry out. Whatever she was doing, it felt like something was pinching his wound shut. Hard.

"It'll be over soon," Cecilia whispered. Gareth's headguard slowly slid up and off his head, hanging itself on a nearby rack. A roll of gauze hovered from the shelf and into view, quickly wrapping around Gareth's head.

At once, the fingers released. The pain began to subside.

"There, it's done. How does that feel?"

Gareth sucked air through his teeth, pressing a hand up to his injured temple. "Ergh… better," he admitted.

"Good," Cecilia sighed in relief.

"Cecilia, do you know what happened last night?"

Only now did Gareth notice just how tired she looked. Her eyes were half-lidded, gazing off into nothing. Both her ears and her head hung low. All were tell-tale signs of fatigue in horses.

"Cecilia?" Gareth touched her shoulder.

She jolted, looking up at him, "Ah! I— oh… pardon me." Her shoulders sagged while she chewed her lower lip. "Gareth, Canterlot has just suffered an attempted coup. One fourth of the Royal Guard just betrayed their oaths."

Gareth's stomach plummeted. He was right: this was betrayal. It was betrayal of the highest order. His hand clenched. This would require careful action. Not exactly his strong suit.

Neither Legata nor Styre moved at this revelation. Gareth blinked once. Oh, right. They were speaking English, of course they would not understand. Still, Legata's ears were facing in this direction, and Styre looked like he was only pretending to be asleep.

"I'm sorry, Cecilia," he said. He wanted to say more. God damn it, he wanted to say more.

Cecilia looked away. She was physically close right now, but emotionally she was still so distant. He just wished he could hug her, hold her, and tell her everything was going to be okay.

'You can't even accept a kiss without vomiting over yourself'

Gareth's fist clenched tighter. Wait, he was forgetting something, "Gleaming? Uh, is Gleaming Horizon okay? Did she make it to you alright?"

"Huh?" Cecilia blinked, "Oh yes, she did! I almost didn't answer my door a second time, but she made it."

"Good, but… is she alright?"

Suddenly, Cecilia's eyes widened. Her ears swept back as she stared at Gareth for a few seconds, gauging his expression. "She… had to fight her way past some traitorous guards. In the fighting, they managed to injure her. She'll recover, though; it's just a broken leg."

'You have no 'plan', no idea, no clue of what you're doing.'

The gnawing in his stomach got worse.

"I should have never let her go alone," Gareth whispered under his breath.

"Gareth," Cecilia placed a forehoof on his shoulder. "Gleaming is a strong unicorn in her own right. You did the best you could. We all did."

"Yeah, I guess so." Gareth still could not meet her eyes. "God, fuck last night. It's a miracle we all escaped as uninjured as we did let alone with our lives. Things could have gone so much worse."

Silence. Only the sound of Legata's ringing magic and Styre's fake snores filled it.

"Gareth… about what happened last night," Cecilia started softly, leaning over to try to meet his gaze.

Seconds went by, Gareth did not answer. Feelings of heat, betrayal, and the taste of Cecilia's kiss filled his mouth. God damn it.

Gareth sighed, wiping his palm across his face, "Cecilia… we'll talk about it later. Okay?"

"…Alright."

"Princess Celestia?" Doctor Legata turned, addressing Cecilia in Equestrian.

Cecilia reluctantly turned away from Gareth. They exchanged hushed whispers. Gareth tried his best to follow along, but was swept away by whatever it was that Doctor Legata was saying. It was all too technical and rapid. If anything, Legata seemed to sound as if she was the one inconvenienced by Noble Era's injuries.

"What's going on?" Gareth interjected after a minute, stepping up alongside Cecilia.

"He's comatose, nothing is waking him up," Cecilia said, a flash of concern on her face. "I can't understand is why they treated him like this. None of the other victims were hurt so badly."

"Maybe he knew something that we didn't," Gareth began. "Last nig— I mean, early this morning, I tried to find Noble Era. I went to his room first, and while I was there, I saw all manner of strange instruments and information. Most of it was on humans."

Cecilia's frown grew confused, but no less severe, "Humans?"

Gareth nodded, relaying what he saw.

"A pipe organ that speaks English? Notes on human armour?" Cecilia murmured, trying to process it all. "Noble Era did all that? Why?"

"Perhaps preparing for interaction with more humans? If I were Noble Era, I wouldn't think that I was last human he'd ever see. Well, maybe, I don't know enough to be certain," Gareth added, scratching the back of his neck.

"He may have learnt about the Crystal Mirror," Cecilia muttered to herself. "Do you think that's why he was targeted?"

Gareth blinked, "Uh, perhaps? Then again, we have no idea what these traitors actually wanted besides trying to kidnap people. All I have are wild guesses right now."

The sound of shifting cloth filled the room as Noble Era started twisting in place. Legata looked over him, attempting to pin him down by the shoulders. Her horn lit up pink, this time the magic seeming to wind up to something big. She looked to Gareth, waving him over.

"Not this again," Gareth grumbled, moving to position and grabbing Noble Era.

Noble Era started moaning mindlessly about theft and begging for forgiveness. Did he lose something?

"He was delirious the whole way here. Muttering, groaning," Gareth explained, looking over to Cecilia.

Cecilia nodded slowly. She leaned down to Legata, speaking a few words into her ear. Legata nodded back, leaning her now flaming pink horn to Era's cheek. The magic began to drain into him. Quickly, he went slack. A goofy smile crawled along his face.

"He'll be fine," Cecilia relayed.

"Good for him," Gareth shrugged, releasing Era's legs and stepping away. "Unfortunately for us, until he wakes up, he isn't telling us anything. Still… maybe that's not a bad place to start. Cecilia, a question: were the other representatives attacked?"

"Yes, of course," she said. "Colonel Purple Dart made short work of them, and Mr. Larms only suffered a black eye. Noble Era was the only one taken; then again, he was the only one that was alone at the time. Why, what are you thinking?"

"What I'm thinking is that this attack may have had more than one objective," Gareth continued, furrowing his brow in thought. "Look, those ponies weren't subtle, they could have taken anything from Noble Era's room. It's what I would have done; make a whole lot of mess, try to throw someone off your trail. Hell, if what you told me is true, this whole 'coup' is starting to look a lot less straightforward than it seems."

Cecilia blinked. "Less straightforward? Are you serious? They managed to turn a fourth of my own guard against me and then attempted to kidnap several key ponies! This was clearly a coup attempt!"

Gareth shrugged again, "I'm just saying. If this was really a coup attempt, then why didn't they attack you directly? When you get right down to it, pony politics aren't really all that different to human politics. Do you remember what I told you about the Civil war?"

"The War of the Roses?"

Gareth grimaced, "You know I hate it when you call it that. But yes, two houses fought over control of the throne of England. The war began not because of men's greed, although that was a factor, but because of one critical element: perceived weakness. Men thought that King Henry the Sixth – Lord bless his soul – was weak. Whether that was true or not, it came about with the same result: a civil war. The same thing is happening here and now."

Cecilia's ears folded back as her eyes widened in dread, "G-Gareth?"

Gareth licked his lip, willing himself to continue, "A friend of mine told me 'thought makes the world'. The way we perceive each other and ourselves changes them. Cecilia, your people have had their faith rocked by your disappearance, they don't know what to think about you anymore. Your enemies are capitalising on that. But… your people still have hope for you! That's why your enemies can't attack you directly, because they need to destroy your image, utterly, before they can hope to take control of Equestria. Your best response to this is to show them the truth; that you are a strong, just and kind leader."

"Gareth, I've been doing the best that I can," Cecilia murmured. "I'm not sure how much I can do."

"There is. There has to be. Now… I know that remembering is hard for you, but surely, this has happened before. Someone must have tried to take control from you. What you should do is research your past, see how you dealt with that situation. You haven't been Queen for over four hundred years for nothing."

"There was one time my rule has been challenged," Cecilia said, glancing away. "But that was different."

"Well, it's somewhere to start." Gareth chuckled, crossing his arms. "Let me guess, you've never left Equestria before, have you?"

"No… I haven't."

His smile broadened, "Let me tell you something. I haven't been here long, but one thing has made itself clear to me. They love you, Cecilia. They believe that you are their leader, and I know that you can be. This attack was one born of desperation because your people still hold hope. Don't you see? You're winning, and they don't like that. Just stand strong for a little while longer, remain yourself, love your people, and they will return it ten-fold."

Cecilia blinked, looking him up and down, "Is this… good political advice? Gareth, I thought you were bad at politics. Should I really be listening to you?" She suddenly smiled. Finally.

Gareth put on a show of mock offense, "Hey, what I said was that it wasn't my forte. Even an idiot can learn from blunt-force experience."

"Speaking of blunt-force learning, I'm doing some of that myself. Gleaming has taken me to the Canterlot Library, and, well, there are some books there," Cecilia sighed, glancing to the sky out the window. The tone of voice was familiar, as was the pain.

"Gareth, can you accompany me as I read them? Please?" Cecilia asked. Her brow softened.

"This is about your sister, isn't it?"

"Yes," Cecilia hung her head. "I know that I never told you the full story, but—"

"—and you don't need to," Gareth smiled, reaching out to her, cupping her cheek. She was warm and soft even through his thick leather glove. "I've got secrets too. We tell each other when we we're ready, remember?"

"Princess Celestia!" An unfamiliar voice came from the doorway. Standing in it was a black-coated pegasus wearing a blue uniform: a Wonderbolt. The hail was followed by yet more official-sounding, rapid-fire Equestrian.

"They're calling for me." Cecilia said, regretfully pulling away.

Pain spiked in Gareth's chest. No, he couldn't leave it at that. Not this time.

"Wait," Gareth walked up to her.

She met his awkward stare, questioning him. Gareth bit his lip. God, he hoped she wouldn't misinterpret this.

He squeezed his eyes shut, opened his arms wide and wrapped them around her. Cecilia immediately seized up. A horse's coat wasn't skin, but she was warm and soft. The smell of sweat was thick, but among the cocktail of perfumes masking it he could detect rose, cinnamon and sandalwood; the kind she wore back in Rockingham. His fingertips massaged her withers, idly imagining them to be the small of her back. If he tried, then…

"Cecilia, I love you," Gareth whispered in his wife's ear. "You know that, right?"

There was a hitch in Cecilia's throat. She idly rubbed her furry, elongated cheek across his.

"I do. I just wish I could hear you say it more."

That hurt.


Leather boots on brick met Gareth's ear in a dull monotony. He mentally plotted out a course through the castle that would take him back to Cecilia's room. Perhaps he ought to flop into Cecilia's wonderfully padded bed instead of that Spartan cot. Truth be told, he was more interested in being near somewhere that smelled like Cecilia right now.

Gareth suppressed a yawn. The energy from all that excitement had long since run out. Was this all it took to tire him out these days? He remembered being able to stay up for two days at a time while hunting. God, he must be getting old.

Yet, even though his limbs felt like they were made of lead, his mind would not follow suit. Noble Era's sketches haunted him. That was a lot of research to perform on a lark, and Noble Era did not seem to be a fool. The longer he thought about it, the more it seemed like those traitors had attacked Noble Era with such force for a reason. Perhaps Gareth should perform some research of his own.

Rather than take a right, directly to the tower, he took a left. Within a few minutes, he stood before Noble Era's room.

A Wonderbolt proudly stood in front of the broken-in door. This was a female, the coat was black, her mane was white. What's more, she did not look nearly as tired as the other guards he had seen. Neither her withers nor her ears sagged. Impressive, considering not a single guard in Canterlot had slept in the past 24 hours.

She turned to him, blue eyes narrowing. The monochrome guard's head lowered aggressively, reading Gareth's intent to enter.

Gareth glared right back. He tapped his gem-encrusted –and still stained– headguard once. With a sharp point of his index finger, he silently pointed for her to step aside. She did not. He demanded once more, this time in Equestrian.

She did not move. Her lips curled back, showing her flat, white teeth.

"Fine, be that way," Gareth muttered, walking toward her. The guard's eyes widened in shock as she immediately backpedaled into the doorframe. Gareth did not break his stride, easily stepping over her and silently praying that she didn't think to attack between his legs.

She didn't. He turned back to see her gape at him, partly in shock and partly in outrage. Her lips buttoned up, growing determined. At once, she turned and galloped down the hall.

Good. Now, to make the most of the time he had.

Noble Era's notes were left largely undisturbed by Cecilia's guards. Given how thoroughly it was destroyed, that was not a difficult task. Glass still crunched underfoot, notes were still scattered over the desk and one of the windows creaked back and forth, busted off its hinges. Perhaps Noble Era's assailants had used it as an entrance.

Gareth began to pluck out the sketches of human armour, gathering them into one hand. One piece looked different though; an edge was ragged, as if torn from a book. The writing on it was—

The 'Knights' seem to dress themselves in metal for protection, much like my guards.

English. That sentence was written in English. What's more, those loops and curls were familiar. Cecilia's handwriting; it had to be.

He needed to find this book. Fingers brushed aside sheets, glancing over anything that might have a ragged edge. Gareth walked over to the side of the desk. There, tucked down the side was a thick stack of paper.

Gareth leaned over and fished it out. He compared the sheet with the jagged edge of the first page's margin. They matched up perfectly. The page just after the first was a blown up passage of English text, something about trade goods. A series of notes drew off the passage; all of it was in near-illegible Equestrian.

He thumbed through the pages. Various second-hand sketches and English sentences flashed by. All of this, it had to be fragments of what Cecilia had in her old castle, 'The Castle of the Two Sisters', as Gleaming called it. Perhaps they were merely fragments as well. Yet, back there Gareth saw only sketches, not written English.

"I'm too tired for this," Gareth groaned, placing a hand to his head.

Galloping hooves came down the hall. There was more than one pony this time.

A jolt of adrenaline rushed through his heart. So much for fatigue. There was a snowball's chance in hell that he'd get to look through here again, not so soon. Hiding the notes here was pointless and they would spot something the size of a book if he tried to stuff it down his pants. He would need to—

A metal creak came from Gareth's side. The window waved open almost invitingly.

Gareth moved over to it; more glass crunched underfoot, this time from the window. He leaned out the windowsill, getting an excellent view of the courtyard. There was the gazebo that Cecilia and he ate dinner in, and there, that was his archery target!

Well, that did explain how Noble Era found him so quickly. Perhaps he had been watching Gareth for longer than— Wait, maybe Noble had more Ambassador's pills in his room!

The hoof-beats sounded like they were just outside.

Gareth tossed the notes out the window. A dull, grassy thump reached his ears a moment later.

Whipping around, Gareth walked back to the desk and lent over, half-pretending to look through the scraps of paper again.

"Grey Spear!" A deep, authoritarian voice bellowed from the doorway.

He looked over his shoulder, trying to appear at least somewhat surprised when Purple Dart glared daggers at him. Gareth shrugged, crossing his arms and attempting an air of smug indifference. All the while, he hoped that they would not notice his trembling hands.

Purple Dart growled, turning his glare on his subordinate and jabbing an accusatory hoof at Gareth. From the way she flinched, it seemed like she was in even more trouble than Gareth. Dart shook his head disbelievingly, heading over to Gareth and escorting him out with same air as an agitated butler.

Shooting another glare at his subordinate, Purple Dart let out a few sharp commands. With that, he continued to herd Gareth down the hall. This time, they were heading to the right.

Gareth smiled knowingly. There was no chance he was sleeping.


Five minutes after Purple Dart had closed and locked the doors to Cecilia's bedroom, Gareth was gone. Whatever orders Purple Dart may have given to the golden guardsponies outside were seemingly forgotten. One of them actually winked at Gareth as he vanished down the stairwell.

Ten minutes later, Gareth stood in the courtyard.

He looked up at the other side of Noble Era's broken window. Using that as a guide, he easily found the notes. They were slightly dirty from the damp soil, but that was easily brushed off.

"Hmmm, where did that front page go?" Gareth muttered, glancing about. After a moment of fruitless searching, he sighed and shrugged. He would just have to find it later.

Gareth headed over to one of the trees. With a relieved sigh, he cracked open the booklet.

Most of it was chopped-up phrases and notes. Not a lot made sense. Individually dissected words were common. One of the pages even included a jumbled-up alphabet, although the harsh scribbles in the margins seemed more out of frustration than sense.

Gareth smiled sympathetically: even he found reading English hard at times.

As the pages went on, the fragments became less common. Whole sentences taking their place. In fact, half of the stack formed these sentences. The subject matter varied. Most was political in nature. Gareth read a few and skipped the rest.

'I will begin to record my diary entries in Crystal Mirror's written language, both for practice and for secrecy.'
'I cannot make the council's decision for them.'
'They look at me like a goddess.'
'What have I done?'

Other passages, were unnervingly familar.

'It's peaceful here. I love the rain.'
'I enjoyed sketching the 'horses'. They're beautiful.'
'I hid from the natives when I could.'
'I disguised myself and spent the day at Rockingham.'

Then one line stopped and caught Gareth's attention.

'I was right. I cannot change them.'

Gareth read it over and over again. The words burned into his mind. Was she... was she talking about Equestria?

The pages crinkled in Gareth's fingers. All those accusations of abandonment... Gareth believed her the whole time. He believed that it was an accident, that she lost her memories and got caught on the otherside. Going to England was a expidition, a trip, and nothing more. Her true love was Equestria.

Something didn't add up. Those sketches in the old castle, they were years old at least. There was no way that Cecilia had the time to write all of this, and make all these sketches in just a day. Even with magic. In that whole time, Gareth had only seen her sketch once.

There were dozens of sketches in that room. The only way Cecilia could have that many sketches was if she had been through the mirror more than once. The only possible answer was that she'd been coming through for decades, maybe even hundreds of years.

"Hundreds of years..." Gareth mumbled numbly.

When did she start to care more for England than for Equestria?

Gareth racked his brain, trying to recall how her head injury happened. Mrs. Peters was too forceful with the well and pulled up too quickly. Cecilia crumpled mid-conversation as that bucket struck her square in the back of the head. Blood stained her pastel hair. Gareth tried to staunch it with his bare hands, desperately crying out for help.

She was alone. Why would she take such a risk without at least a bodyguard? How did one make a mistake like that?

...unless it wasn't a mistake.

Something skittered in the underbrush.

A hand went to his dagger. He watched the nearby pile of leaves. It rustled once more.

A pair of beady black eyes shone in the dark. Leaves crinkled as something small pushed a long, pointed nose forward. A chill ran up and down Gareth's spine. No, no, no, no, Gleaming Horizon promised that no small creature lived in Canterlot castle but ponies.

Despite claims to the contrary, a black rat poked its head out.

"Nope." His eye twitched.

With a thud, Gareth dropped the book. In that moment he was not thinking about Cecilia, or Noble Era's words, or even sleep, he only thought about the plague. With a jerky mechanical precision, he silently stood, turned and sprinted in the opposite direction.

Two minutes later, the Royal Guards watching Cecilia's chambers saw her prince-consort sprinted wide-eyed up the stairwell. He practically dove through the doors, slamming them closed behind him and barring it with a heavy metal thunk.

With a nervous glance, they made a non-verbal agreement to not say a word.

Next Chapter: Chapter 10: Barrels & memories Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 58 Minutes
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