999 Pieces

Chapter Six: Maxon

“That is the most absurd idea I have ever heard! No offense, Your Majesty,” Mr. Voss quickly adds.

“What is so absurd about it?” I demand. “You haven’t even read the plan yet.”

Mr. Voss snatches the folder from Stavros and begins reading the first page. 

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, but do you honestly think that Illea is in the position right now to make such a life-changing alteration to the lifestyle of Illea’s citizens?” Mr. Voss asks after setting the folder down.

“I honestly think we are overdue for this!” I answer, standing up from my chair to look at him in the eye. “I am not proposing that we begin this tomorrow, but I am saying that we need to start soon. The Selection has opened my eyes and made me realize that Illea needs a change. We are looked down upon by other countries for still having the castes. Why do you think Italy wasn’t so willing to form an alliance with us before? Because their people are freer than ours.”

“Do you need a decision now?” Mr. Voss asks.

“Not necessarily, but I would certainly like one,” I reply curtly.

“Let's not put too many things on our plate right now. How about we first resolve our current issues before we move on to another one,” Stavros says.

“Very well,” I agree. “May I see those articles now?”

“Certainly, Your Majesty.”

-o-

“Good evening Illea,” I tell the cameras. “I have very unfortunate news for us all. In the rebel attack during what was my Engagement Ceremony, my dear Father and Mother, your King and Queen, were murdered.” 

I took a deep breath before continuing. “Unfortunately, they were not the only casualties. Lady America and Lady Celeste were also shot and killed, along with countless members of the palace guard and staff. Please accept my deepest condolences for any lost family members and friends.”

I briefly look away from the camera, trying my best to keep it together. It was now that I realized that I longed to see Mom’s familiar encouraging smile, telling me that I was doing this right. I didn't realize how the comfort was so impacting to me, until now.

“I’m sure many of you have questions right now, believe me, I know,” I continue, turning back to the camera. “My advisors and I are working diligently to find the answers, but please be patient with us. In a few days time I will be contacting mayors of all of the provinces to inform them of our next steps.” 

I take another deep breath. “As I’m sure all of you are aware, I planned to announce who my wife was going to be at the event that cruelly took my parents and your king and queen away from us. The circumstances have complicated things so I wish once again for your patience. I know many of you are scared of what is to come, but stay strong Illea. As my dear friend Lady America said, fight. Fight however you can, and we will get through this. Thank you.”

The lights dim and the cameras stop rolling. The typical bustle after the cameras stop is nonexistent. Everyone is just silent, quietly doing what needs to be done as if they are robots. 

I don’t realize that I’m standing, staring into space until someone steps in front of my line of vision.

“Your Majesty,” Gavril says, bowing as I blink.

“Forget the formalities, Gavril. You’ve known me my entire life,” I answer. “What is it?”

“I know how much this hurts, Maxon, I really do,” he whispers. “Your mother was a wonderful woman and your father… well, he was a good king, although a bit misguided I would say.”

I let out a huff. “A bit? I’m sure you know how I feel about my Father, Gavril. No need to sugarcoat things, I won’t be offended.”

Gavril gives me a grim smile. “Let me know if you ever want to talk. Seriously.”

I pause for a moment. “Would you have time now? I understand-”

“Don’t worry, I have time. Would you like to talk somewhere else? Perhaps not in the middle of the set?”

I wince. “Please. I’m afraid my mind was wandering a bit.”

“I understand, Maxon. Lead the way.”

Together, Gavril and I walk down the hall in the direction of the stairs. We climb the stairs up to the third level and find a parlor close to Father’s former office. We both remain silent as we sidestep some maids cleaning and enter the parlor.

I gesture to the couch. “Please, sit. Do you want anything to drink? Water? Tea? Something stronger?”

Gavril lets out a short laugh. “Tea will be fine. I think we’ve all had enough alcohol, Maxon. Now, don’t look so surprised! I know you’ve had a few sips.”

I let out a small laugh as I ring for a maid or butler. A maid comes running in, sinking into a deep curtsey. “Your Majesty, how may I help you?”

“Could you please bring a tray of tea for Gavril and I?” I ask.

“Of course, your Majesty,” she whispers, giving another curtsy and running out. A few minutes later she returns with a tray with tea and some cookies. 

I give her a small smile. “Thank you. If you could please close the door as you leave, I would greatly appreciate it.”

The maid nods and gives me another curtsy before leaving, quietly shutting the door behind her.

“How are you holding up?” Gavril asks after a moment.

“I’m… I don’t know how to describe it,” I whisper. “I’m devastated by my parents death, especially my mother. We were really close and now the fact that she’s no longer here…” My voice breaks as I sniff. “Sorry.’

“Don’t apologize, Maxon. If you need to cry, cry. Don’t hold it in. I won’t judge you,” Gavril says softly, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I sigh. “I’ve done enough crying. Father must be rolling in his grave right now, that is, if he was in a grave.”

“The burial is tomorrow, correct?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to not think about it.”

Gavril nods. “Do you have a speech prepared?”

“I have notes, but I’m focusing more on my duties. I just feel so lost…” I trail off.

“Even with the Northern Rebel’s support?” he asks, pouring himself some tea.

“Even then. I owe so much to them,” I say. “Without them I’m sure that I would be dead, and many other people. But even with their support, a part of me is almost hesitant, and I don’t know why.”

Gavril doesn’t say anything, staring at his tea.

“What is it? You look troubled,” I ask. 

“Maxon,” he says slowly. “Do you know what this is?” He points to the pin on his lapel.

“It’s a star. You wear it all the time,” I answer. “Why?”

Gavril sighs. “Maxon, this is the North Star, a sign the Northern Rebels use to recognize each other.”