The Princess's Feathers

As I feared, my return to public service was quicker than I anticipated.

After explaining the dire situation, my mother marched down to the palace and convinced Her Majesty to alter course and allow the Morthan’s visit. I was outside the reading room during their conversation, so I do not know the finer details. But as was typical for mother during her tenure as head of staff, I could hear her fiery resolve echoing through the palace chambers as she traded jabs with an equally fervid Kelani. I suppose four decades of service earns you the right to scream at the sitting Monarch of Ellyntide. I only wish some of that resolve had rubbed off on me.

A crisis has been averted, but the situation remains tense.

It was soon announced that the Morthans would visit the Kingdom in a matter of days. As one of the few palace staff who speak Lagoran (and an even scarcer number of Rabbits,) I had to begin the preparations for their visit at once. Typically, diplomatic meetings such as these occur at the Woburn House on the neutral island of Truce, halfway between Ellyntide and Sarlain territory. But mother insisted we demonstrate to the Nortanians we are capable of peaceful relations with other nations. And so the meeting is to occur in Varecia, the first time such a diplomatic event has been held here in decades.

But as for today, I must tend to a more personal matter: The inquiry into the death of Princess Asha. A report has been prepared and is scheduled to be released to the public later this evening.

Later this afternoon, myself and the other survivors of the tragedy will be debriefed on the principal findings. As to what they may entail, all that’s certain is none of us will be indicted for what happened that day. Thank God. But as for its conclusions on Crow Wing’s potential involvement and the Lithan’s interference, I am just as clueless as the rest of the public. I’ve been so preoccupied with my own affairs that I’m unsure how the public views the forthcoming report.

This presents a problem.

As head of staff to Her Majesty, I am expected to provide insight into the public’s perception of an issue as to allow her to make more informed policy decisions. Usually, I accomplish this task by listening to talk radio or conversing with the service staff in the palace. But the past few weeks have left me scarce time for either activity. I have been recovering from the tragedy the best I can, chasing my mother or confined to my desk in the palace.

To remedy this problem, I’ve traveled to one of the famous cafés of the crimson district, Zelda’s Corner. As it’s routinely overflowing with noisy patrons during the morning rush, it has become my go-to method to listen in on the actual conversations the public is having. I suspect I’ll have no problem discovering what they think about an event as profound as the tragedy in the hollow.

After a short wait outside, I ask to be taken to the counter near the back. The walls here bounce back conversations, making my job easier to perform. As I’m led to my seat, I look out over the tables and booths packed with patrons, sipping their morning coffee and indulging in sweet-smelling culinary treats. After the period of mourning, It’s encouraging to see Varecia return to life. I’ve learned that normalcy is not something one should take for granted.

I sit at the counter and order my usual: Coffee and a blueberry muffin. By the time I finish with them, I should have plenty of helpful information to provide Her Majesty. After a few moments of furtively concentrating on the patrons around me, I can focus on a Ruffy and a Piney, two booths to my left. I saw them as I was being led to my seat, and the two males seemed to be close friends, the type who open up about current events.

Their conversation starts off lurid, as talks between young men often are. But after some time…

“So, are you excited about the report?”

There! I knew they’d get to it eventually!

The Pine Marten quickly retorts, “No,” and after a brief pause, explains, “Nothing good can come from it.”

“Do you think they’ll accuse Nortane of killing the Princess?”

“I don’t think it matters what the report says. There will be the official line and then the actual line, you know? There’s no way they’ll tell us what really happened that day.”

“What really happened? Why would they try to hide what happened in the weald?”

Yes, good point, Ruffy — why would we hide it? It’s in our best interest to reveal everything we know about the tragedy. If a foreign presence was operating in the weald, then we should be shouting it from the mountain tops. And if we can glean any information about the Lithan… well, I believe that’s in the interest of everyone living on Jade.

After another pause, a fork is tabled, and the Pine Marten continues, “There are always secrets, Ansel. Things they don’t want us common folk knowing about.”

I can’t disagree with that. There are matters that even I’m unaware of, information so sensitive that it can only be shared between the Queen and the heir to the throne. But I have to believe the truth of the hollow will be known for Calypso and Asha’s sake.

“And might I add, there are a lot of very valid questions floating around about how the Princess’s trip was planned and carried out!”

…

Oh, really?

“Uh-huh,” The Ruffy scoffs in coincidental suspicion. “Such as?”

“For example,” The Pine Marten pauses and drops his paws to the table. “The Princess went to the middle of freakin’ nowhere because she likes plants? And she had to get some rare tree out of the Eastern Weald? Give me a break!”

I gasp so loud that the Sifaka beside me looks up from her plate. He doesn’t…?! How could he—!

“And another thing! They had the Captain of the Legion of Dragons with her that day, right? But then they only assigned two other guards? For the Princess of Ellyntide? It’s like they wanted to get her killed!!”

No. That is not true. No. That simply isn’t true. If Calypso wasn’t there, then we would have needed more guards. But he was, so we didn’t. That’s protocol. That’s what’s in the book. We did everything to the letter that day. I was right! Everything was perfect! It’s not my fault. None of it is my fault. And even if it was my fault (which it isn’t,) the Lithan—

“Coffee and a blueb—“

“AH!”

Startled, the Ringtailed waitress juggles my coffee in her hand and nearly spills it. "Whoa!! Are you alright, hun?”

I stare at her, panting, trying to form words. “Y-yeah,” I mumble sheepishly. It seems I got lost in my intrusive thoughts. How regrettable. Sensing the nearby conversations have stalled because of me. I quickly offer an apology. “Sorry. I’ll be fine.”

The waitress gives me a dubious stare as she tables my order. “Coffee and a blueberry muffin. Let me know if you need anything else.”

I impersonate a smile long enough for her to leave.

I shamefully lower my head, hoping to somehow avoid the patrons' curious gazes. How thoroughly embarrassing; I’ve once again allowed my thoughts to control me. I suppose I should have expected this reaction from the public — many of the palace’s day-to-day procedures are structured in a way that wouldn’t make sense to the casual observer. But they are in place for a reason and have worked quite well. I fear I should prepare myself to see more unfounded criticism like this in the future.

I take a few moments to gather my thoughts and tear apart pieces of the muffin. Nibbling on food helps me concentrate. Keeping my head forward, I rotate my ears towards the booth and refocus on their conversation, prepared for whatever they might discuss.

I tune in to hear the Marten in the middle of a sentence. “—know that when they found the body of the Sable, her cloak had been neatly torn away and placed alongside her body? Now, I am no expert on Lithans. But I’m preeetty sure they couldn’t care less about vanity.”

“What are you getting at, exactly?”

“Nothing, really. It’s just… weird. Everything about this whole tragedy is weird.”

The Ruffy pauses to release a strained sigh. “Well, that’s certainly true. The Queen could stand to learn a thing or two from that monster. Maybe if she didn’t care so much about her damn dresses, then Asha would still be alive.”

“Blame the media, Ansel. The Lordanous have always been under a ton of scrutiny. Did you read the Varecian Tribune the day after the tragedy? Their idiot fashion correspondent happened to see the Princess in Dragon’s Gate Station. She couldn’t help but pen a scathing critique of the clothes she was wearing as she died.”

Finch showed me that article. Supposedly, Calypso and the Princess ran into the woman after we got separated in the station. What an utter sociopath. I wish I could’ve been there to join the Princess in telling her off.

“Oh, she was wearing the riding outfit that day, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. She called it ‘unbecoming of royalty.’ Can you believe that crap?”

“Well, that’s because it was.”

The silverware rattles as a cup is forcibly tabled. “See?! Now you’re doing it, too!”

I nearly choke down a piece of muffin. My God, how can our own citizens have such a callous disregard for the Princess’s life? Despite her imperfections, she was still the Princess, the soul, and the future of this Kingdom! Not some disposable character from a storybook!

If I remain in this café any longer, I may become ill.

I slip a wad of bills under my still-full mug, grab my coat, and exit through the establishment’s front door without giving a second glance to its patrons.