Prince Among Men

Chapter 36 - Pretense in Crisis

It was midday, and the palace was brimming with an unusual silence. In the morning, an envoy of the palace guard had been deployed to an emergency summit, accompanying King Orvax himself. The weathered tyrant on his haggard shark had left to answer a distress call so urgent, the only verified detail was that it had been made by King Nereus himself. Something had gone wrong in Xebel. Bringing only the most elite of the royal guard, Orvax had gone there to investigate the call for aid.

Orm had been left at home to look after the palace. After some deliberation, even Vulko had decided that it would be alright to leave the palace in Orm's hands, and had gone with Orvax in case he would be more needed there. Orm was alone and totally in charge, for the first time in his life, and this sense of agency dispelled any of his immediate fears about what was happening in Xebel.

Knowing that his priority was to ensure the security of Atlantis, he sent word that the entire military should remain on standby, and he restricted the list of vessels which would be granted access through the city gate. Bringing a small troupe of guards with him, he personally saw that each order was fulfilled--quickly finding that asking others to do something for him was much more frustrating than doing those things himself.

The work of ensuring that Atlantis was prepared for disaster consumed most of his thoughts. However, during free moments, he reflected on what he had said to (Y/N) only the night before: both that she would handle leadership well, and that he loved her. Both statements were true, evidenced by the fact that even in the midst of a crisis, he wished she was here.

Not that he needed help. Obviously, he thought, I'm well-equipped to handle this situation. But her presence would always be preferable to her absence, and he felt that she wouldn't need any help or guidance to operate in a scenario like this one; more than he could say for many of the people he had spoken with today. Nobody seemed to know how to react to the situation, although he was unsure whether the sudden nature of the emergency or his new and unattended presence as leader was the more jarring piece of the equation. Either way, he was unable to appreciate either the frantic hustle or the lack thereof in the attitudes of those around him.

When he had finished visiting the necessary authorities, he returned to the palace. The easy part was over--he had done everything he could think of. Now came the difficult part. Now came the wait.

Something about the sight of Orvax's empty throne disturbed him. Unable to reconcile himself to the thought of sitting upon it, but feeling awkward about settling into his usual spot—off to the side—he drifted on, through the throneroom into the next corridor. He had no way of knowing how soon anyone would return with updates, effectively confining him to the palace.

He hadn't allowed any fear or anxiety to creep into the back of his mind while he was out giving orders, but in the stillness it was impossible to combat his worries any longer. His most immediate concern was for (Y/N). Despite knowing that he had control over the entire Atlantean military, he could never shake the fear that somehow, everybody knew where he was going at night, and who he was seeing, and how much she meant to him. He could never shake the fear that they would find her and hurt her. He hadn't wanted to scare her the other night, but when he had found her lying in the cove, his first conclusion was not that she had fallen asleep.

If he had shared his fears with her, would she be a little safer now?—Would she be more inclined to stick to land? Something told him that she was too stubborn for it to matter, and he tried not to dwell on it. She hadn't disagreed with his plan, she had merely forgotten protocol that night.

Furthermore besides the most immediate implications of this arrangement, there was the fear that something catastrophic had occurred in the kingdom of Xebel. He needed his ally to thrive so that he could depend on an ongoing treaty with them once he ascended to the throne. And if there existed a threat that could endanger the military powers of Xebel, then Atlantis was under serious threat as well. His chest felt constricted with anxiety. He knew that in the long term, nothing good would come of this—but what he truly couldn't handle was knowing that, in the immediate future, he could do nothing more.

--

When Vulko approached alone, late that night, Orm feared the worst. However, both the trusted advisor and his mount made it into the palace grounds looking as undamaged as when they'd left that morning.

"Your Highness," came Vulko's greeting as Orm swam out to meet them in the courtyard. "I have some news."

"Is Xebel safe?" Orm asked, "And my father?"

"They are both safe. But the same cannot be said for Xebel's northern territories." Vulko took a moment to gather himself before continuing. "The surfacers have unleashed toxins into he ocean. There's been a major oil spill. At the moment, we are unable to determine whether the act was premeditated, or simply the result of gross negligence."

"Either way, this is only one of many infractions," Orm sneered. If it turned out to be some sort of intentional assault, the war would begin much sooner than anyone had accounted for.

"I trust you've put our generals on standby?"

"Affirmative. They're prepared for anything."

"Orvax sent me here to fetch reinforcements. They're attempting to clean things up for the time being, so we need a lot of men over there, but we also don't know what the surface has planned. He instructed me to let you decide how many men follow me back, and how many are left to defend the city." Vulko's words were always measured, and the man rarely expressed strong emotion, but his placid nature was off-putting in this instance. Orm often wondered how he could remain so collected in times of uncertainty, and this was no exception. It was hard to gauge where his loyalties were truly anchored. Even if Orm had not known about Vulko's odd ties to his bastard brother on the surface, he would have found it difficult to know what the old man was ever really thinking.

"Very well. Wait here, and I'll send word to the appropriate generals." Orm replied, practicing his own icy exterior. He fetched Dorci from the stables and made haste for the city's fortress, where military leaders were currently standing by. Built into the city wall, it was a convenient stop on his way to the coast, where he was headed on his own business.