Two Princes In Panama

Chapter 1: Myles

The corridor was an echo chamber.

Every time my boots hit the ground, the sound would bounce off the walls, creating a disjointed melody. I took in the gray stone lit only by the ornate wall lamps that cast dim yellow lights along the narrow pathway.

Everything about the area built unease. Every time I ventured into the corridor, my heart would thump. I did not understand what the exact cause was for my reaction to the space, nor had I tried to figure it out. I guessed it could be the fact that the walls and floor were the same color, varying only in texture.

The air was not only dank, but it was cold, vents near the ground blew the chilly air only through my exposed ankles. I regretted wearing the vintage jeans that frayed near my ankles. The rest of the palace several feet aboveground was nothing like the underground bunker. While the air smelled of mold, I knew my parents would not have allowed for such a thing to take root in our home. That would distort the air of perfection that they aimed for.

I wondered why my father summoned me to the subterranean meeting room. He allowed me an hour to be there, which was odd since he usually made things happen the moment it came to his mind. The meeting room had been a place I had only been in once before, sixteen and still being pushed into becoming well versed in all aspects of war and ruling a kingdom. Four years later and that drive had diminished when my father realized that I was better suited to being a philanthropist, unlike my eleven other siblings. That had been a wedge in our relationship, but if I had kept letting him push me into what he wanted me to be, I would have been miserable.

When I reached the door, there were two burly men dressed in all black standing guard. The titanium door was two feet taller than the men were well over six feet and wider than them both standing together. They nodded as I came near, a sign of respect. I returned a curt nod, knowing that they would not accept my offer to me informally. They parted the door for me without saying a word, and I walked into the secure room.

The room was well lit, computer screens lined the walls and television screens. IT smelled like cloves and was warmer than the hallway. My parents had everything made or panned in gold. The masterpiece of the gaudy decor was a large table with baroque etchings along the surface. The only things that were not gold were the hand-painted portraits of my father, grandmother, and great-grandfather. The three leaders of the Cider regime, at some point, no time soon one of my siblings, would have their picture on the wall.

The whole room screamed of frivolous waste that I championed against. The money spent in a room that only the royal family would see could have been used to better the lives of our disenfranchised subjects.

We had made so many advancements in society, but there were still citizens that weren't eating every day or able to support their families, let alone themselves. Yet, I knew that if I was to protest anything I thought about how we spent money and resources, it would fall on deaf ears.

The only person inside was a woman who had hair cropped to her jawline, and her hair was a dirty blond. The guards' eyes were closed as she worked at keeping up the barrier that left the room impervious to eavesdropping.

I was the first to arrive, which was not an uncommon occurrence. Not wanting to stand and stare at the woman who was trying to remain concentrated, I took a seat at the table. My hands rested on the smooth table surface and then looked over at the screen. They all showed the latest in military interest, most being new news to me.

In the middle of reading about the Monarchy of Europe pointing missiles at the Asian Empire's border, until cool air hit my skin pulling my attention from the screens. I looked down at the Sub Rosa engraved at the center of the table. A symbol that signified the security of the secrets shared among the people who had a chair at the table.