The next morning Fanny handed him a letter when she woke him up.

  “Here you go squirt. Make sure you read it immediately, it's from the king.”

  He blinked groggily as she threw the cream envelope at his face.

  “Also, I’ve got business in the kitchen. I’ve laid out your clothes on the chair.”

  Cecil grabbed the envelope and he struggled to sit up from under the heavy comforter. As he ripped open the wax seal, Fanny warbled a “Byeee” as she closed the door behind her.

  Why was she always this cheery? In fact, she seemed more chipper despite the assassination attempt. It probably had to do with some sort of reduced workload due to security measures or something. Whatever it was, he didn’t have the time or energy to figure it out.

  Cecil took out the two sheets of paper and skimmed the writing on the top one, then groaned.

  The next seven days were completely ruined.

  All the royal children were expected to go to the emergency meetings, one hour of meetings for each year old they were.

  He crumpled up the top sheet and threw it into the corner of the room before looking at the other one.

  Looked like there were two meetings he could go to scheduled for today, then two more tomorrow. Since the average meeting lasted for an hour or two, he would only need to go to a handful. Then he would be done the first two days. Especially if he hurried and got dressed.

  Cecil double checked the meeting times for the day, then looked at the clock on the wall. He sighed at the paper. The first one started an hour ago. Regardless, three days of meetings wasn’t that bad. It was much better than what the rest of his siblings would have to deal with.

  Cecil rolled out of bed and grabbed the clothes that Fanny had set out.

  Semi-formal blacks? She must have had some sort of idea about the meetings he had to attend today.

  He slipped out of his nightclothes and hummed tunelessly as he dressed. Despite the bad situation that always brought them out, he liked the outfit. Tall, shiny black boots, a black half cape, and a tunic that had silver accents that were mirrored on the pantaloons. Every time he wore these, he couldn’t help but think of Madam Wyntrop approvingly. If he became a widower, he wouldn't stop wearing black and silver either.

  Cecil arrived at the afternoon meeting with fifteen minutes to spare.

  The council room that held the meeting for today was dark, with a bone white table and chairs. Black carpet lined the floor and was not eased by any windows that might let in natural light. The walls were bare stone, so that there could be no secret engravings behind a tapestry or painting. Not to say there were no engravings, for there was one. It held one of silence, so that a person could only hear, or be heard if they were sitting in the chairs at the table. It was a long rectangle that had the king and queen sitting at the head, and the observers at the other end.

  Aaron gave him a jealous glance from the spectators end of the table. Hah. He had to sit through fourteen hours of this drivel, but he had more privileges as the oldest so it was a fair turnaround. As the youngest, he only had to sit and watch for eight hours. He hoped it ran long enough so that he wouldn’t need to go to a meeting on the third day.

  Cecil sat down in a chair three down from Arron so that they wouldn’t need to talk but not so far that they might look at each other accidently. He frowned at the table and pressed his thumbnail against it. It made a splintered dent into the wood that he quickly brushed away with his sleeve. Maybe it was Yarr wood? He had read about it in “The complete guide to engraved surfaces, and the purposes and qualities of such things.” It was a long winded book, but thorough in it’s explanations. So thorough that he had skimmed through most of it after reading a sentence on each engraving medium.

  If he remembered correctly, they made things from this wood because it was extraordinarily fibrous, making it impossible to engrave. It was for security reasons, but he hated the need to pick splinters out of his wrist just because he’d scratched the table.

  More council members streamed in as the meeting as the time to start loomed closer. Those included in the last wave of people were some scribes and Erris. She sat by him as he shifted uncomfortably.

  “Did you get splinters somewhere?”

  “No, of course not.”

  She smiled wickedly, “Oh, really? I would be willing to remove them, and give you a putty to fill in the hole if you needed. It’s not like I can tell you’ are in mild pain or anything…”

  “Fine. I guess you can help.”

  He held out his wrist, and she deftly removed the white sprinters with her long nails.

  “There. Good as new.” she handed him a small jar that fit into the palm of his hand, “This is a putty made from the same wood. It still prevents successful engraving, but it also allows a person to fill in the holes.”

  He quickly grabbed and opened it, then took a small dollop out with his finger and smeared it on the jagged half moon his fingernail had left.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Where’d you get this stuff anyways?”

  “Well, when I went to my first meeting several years ago, I got some splinters in my thigh from the chair I was sitting in. Luckily Mecine was able to remove them. Afterwards she gave me that jar for future meetings. I recommend you get your own after we finish here.”

  Cecil reluctantly gave the jar back, then felt the place where he had put the putty. It had dried up, and was smooth with the table. The urge to push his fingernail into it again was strong, but he resisted. That could wait until he had a jar of the stuff himself to experiment with.

  Just then, the king and queen walked into the room. They wore the same black and silver that Cecil had on, even their crowns were silver with onyx and obsidian gems. When they sat down, the silence was activated, and no one spoke. For no matter how quiet the whisper was, the whole room would be able to hear.

  Cecil took a deep breath and focussed in on what was about to happen. Talmage would expect him to know, and the security only allowed the official scribes in with paper and pencil. With his bookbag and supplies left with the guards, he just needed to remember really well.

  At the head of the table sat Queen Ysmira, her expression cool and composed.

  "Lords and ladies, we have already discussed the preliminaries. So let us consider the possibilities going forward.”

  Lord Chambers was the first to speak, his voice smooth as his slicked back hair. "This attack, regardless of its failed execution, is an affront to our sovereignty. We must act swiftly and decisively. The sale of foreign magical items must be strictly controlled, if not outright banned. Our enemies use them against us, and we leave ourselves vulnerable by allowing their unfettered access into our borders."

  "And yet," Lady Reems interjected, leaning forward with a scowl, the dim light catching silver boat shaped earrings, "such restrictions would cripple our trade. You may not care for commerce, Lord Chambers, but my ships carry goods that feed and clothe this kingdom. You cut off trade, and you will starve your own people."

  "Not if we strike first," Lady Ganyon said coolly, her chair leaned back. "Inatol is a fractured, dying beast. We need only deliver the final blow. Prolonged civil war is terrible for the people, and we would be doing them a kindness to put an end to it. Besides, their instability is a risk to us all. And their resources? well, they would serve us better than they do rebels."

  Pro Talmage, ever the measured voice of reason, shook his head. "Wars are not won by seizing opportunity alone, Lady Ganyon. If we strike without proof of their involvement, we risk entangling ourselves in a prolonged conflict, one we may not need to fight. And if they are truly on their last leg, we can wait till they collapse on their own. And it would be no kindness to quash a rebellion that the people presumably support. If they suffer, it is by their own choice."

  Lady Ganyon sniffed haughtily, “Yes, but just because someone decides that they would prefer to set their house on fire because they are cold, does not mean that they are making the best decision for themselves in the long term. Free will does not mean good decision making. So what if we happen to gain some of their products. They would benefit from the stability of a strong ruler.”

  Lord Stritt, who had been quietly listening, rubbed his temples with slender fingers. "Yes, but we would have to squash the rebellion first. Which would have to be done through conquest. Wars are costly. Not just in lives but in coin. Every gold piece spent on soldiers is one not spent on roads, homes, and temples. It does not matter the perceived moral or material good you seek if it costs the same amount to gain. If we start this war, we will end it with equal costs and benefits. And due to the deaths of our skilled soldiers, we will end up in the red. Then tell me why we would want Inatol, a country destroyed by conflicts and poor management, when it will cost us our own comfort."

  "And if war is what the council seeks," Queen Ysmira said softly, but with steel in her voice, "then you must convince me it is necessary. I will not waste our youth on vengeance or ambition."

  The king stroked his beard, “But the fires of war are the best thing to test the next generation. We will see new leaders rise as the heat of battle forges them into the steel that will build the future of our nation with unrelenting strength! And a small battle would be a perfect trial.”

  Lord Enway sat silently, a frown on his face as his eyes shifted between monarchs.

  Mecine Olm, frowned, "I will remind everyone that the investigations were not conclusive. In this time of chaos, we should not run into anything blindly. If we were to close our borders, sanction trade, we may find the enemy lies not beyond, but within. We must finish the investigation before we make enemies abroad."

  Lord Everand, a man glinting with gold, glanced at Lord Chambers before adding his quiet, "I agree with Lord Chambers. Regardless of whether we pursue war or not, or if the enemy lies within, this has revealed a weakness in security best solved by sanctions."

  Pro Xeon, leaned forward with an air of self-importance "We are the wise in this country, yet why do we speak as though we are blind? I myself conducted the investigation and know full well that Istania is the problem, not Inatol. Their goods were the weapon. That is where our attention must lie."

  "Istania has no need for war," Mecine Olm countered. "It is a country of book hungry scholars, they have no need of our land, or its downfall. Their scholars are in every court, not as spies, but as observers. Would they risk their reputation and their standing for an attempt on my family’s lives? Especially when we can throw their observers in prison and hold them hostage?"

  "The explosion came from an imported artifact," Pro Xeon insisted. "That fact alone warrants action."

  "And what of Inatol?" Lady Janick snapped. "They are desperate, they would do anything to gain footing. This cannot be a coincidence."

  "No evidence points to either conclusively," Pro Talmage stated firmly. "Until we know for certain, war is not an option."

  "Then what is?" Lady Janick shot back. "Sitting here, debating, while our enemies grow bold?"

  Cecil listened as the arguments went round and round the table with three factions appearing. Pro war, pro sanction, and those against war and sanctions. Although some, like Lady Reem, might be amenable to war, but only if there were no sanctions.

  Queen Ysmira glanced sharply around the room. "Despite the lack of progress in today’s meeting, I believe that everyone’s opinion should be considered. What most have agreed on is that a response must happen as soon as possible. To that end, we shall reconvene tomorrow and make a decision on sanctions at that time. Until then, Xeon can you come up with more conclusive evidence?”

  The chamber became still as they turned to the researcher, who took off his glasses and polished them as he talked, “Of course your majesty, I shall do my best. But I don’t believe there is much more new information to be had. It was an item mass produced by apprentices. And we buy hundreds of those lights a year as the wear and tear makes them lose potency, or they get lost or damaged. This last shipment alone had two-hundred. Any part of the process could have been breached. From making, shipment, or even the delivery staff here.”

  The queen’s nails clicked thoughtfully. “Thank you Xeon. If no new evidence is presented, I will move up the final decision time. I expect you will talk privately and make the next meeting smoother. Adjured.”

  She ended the meeting by standing up, the king followed suit and offered his arm. She took it with a smile, her red painted nails curved elegantly over his muscled bicep. Then the guards opened the doors in time for them to walk through.