The Crown Affair - 5. Chapter 5 - The Prince's Fire

Eighth day of the eleventh lumin (Kask-Lumin) 2025 of the modern calendar:

Josh returned to his rooms after his third breakfast as prince, and yet another meal of treating Sally as though she were a second class citizen. He was planning to continue reading his book when there was a knock at the door.

“Enter.”

One of the men at arms entered and bowed. “Your Highness, the lady Mildrea is leaving. Their Majesties assumed you would want to say farewell.”

“Thank you, I do.”

As Josh followed the man at arms through the palace, he passed a number of the palace staff who were going about their morning tasks. There were a couple of maids on the second floor dusting, a hall boy was polishing the brass doorknobs on the first floor, and one of the boot boys was laying out the recently polished shoes for distribution to the palace staff..

Josh arrived in time to hear Mildrea saying goodbye to Queen Maria, and he watched as the sisters hugged each other. Mildrea looked up as she heard the main doors to the palace slamming shut and saw her nephew standing there. Before she knew what was happening, a blond missile was rapidly heading in her direction.

Josh leapt into Mildrea’s arms, and aunt and nephew embraced; Josh hugged her so tightly it was a miracle he didn’t crack one of her ribs. Even though it would only be a few days until Mildrea returned to the palace, this goodbye felt different to both of them. Mildrea knew that from this day forward, she would be relegated to a secondary concern of her nephew, which was just as it should be. Josh knew that the world he grew up in was coming to an end, and that he would now start down on the path towards his destiny as the future King of Salania, without his aunt to rely on.

Each knew that they would miss the other more than they could ever hope to express in words, and this parting was a challenge for the both them, to see if they could somehow conduct themselves as people of their station should, to maintain emotional control in public. It was something that Mildrea had far more experience of dealing with than her nephew did, yet the both of them somehow managed to keep their emotions in check, and Josh walked his aunt over to her car.

“Goodbye, Aunt Mildrea. I will see you at the weekend. Drive safely.”

Mildrea gave him a kiss on the forehead, just as she used to when he was much younger. “Goodbye, Josh. I’ll be counting the days until then. Please take care of yourself.”

Mildrea got into her car and quickly drove off before the last of her walls came crumbling down. She ended up having to stop less than a kilometre down the road, as she could no longer see through the tears that were running down her face.

Josh ran into the palace without uttering a word to his parents; his own facade of control was also coming unglued. He headed straight to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He buried his face into the pillow on his bed and cried. He knew that he would be seeing his aunt again in only another four days, but her departure had merely served to reinforce the fact he would be utterly alone for the next six lumins.

Whilst it was true that Max seemed to be lowering his guard, and there was undoubtedly the possibility of a friendship blooming between them, Josh was always wondering in the back of his mind just how close a friend Max would be; or more precisely, how close a friend Max would allow himself to be.

Josh felt someone shaking him. He was amazed when he realized that he had actually cried himself to sleep.

“Your Highness. It’s nearly dinner time.”

Josh sat up on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“It can’t be that late, Max.” Josh looked out of his window and saw that the sun had almost set, and he let out a long low sigh.

“I’m afraid it is. It is actually nearing the eighteenth hour. Their Majesties were becoming concerned when it transpired that nobody had seen you since the lady Mildrea left. I took the liberty of informing them that you told me that you were feeling unwell and had gone to lie down. I hope I didn’t overstep my authority.”

“Of course not, Max. Thank you for covering for me.” It was only when Josh turned around to face Max, that the page boy saw that Josh’s eyes were red and puffy.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Although Max knew the question felt like a textbook thing to ask, he was actually concerned for the prince; of course, he managed to keep his concern hidden behind the facade of a page simply enquiring after the welfare of his master.

“I’ll be honest Max, I’m not sure that I am. I mean, I’ve lived with my aunt ever since I was born. She’s always been there for me. This was going to be a hard enough time for me without having any of my friends around, and I’m just not sure how I’ll cope without her around as well.”

Unconsciously, Max sat down close to Josh on the edge of the bed; close enough to seem as though he was comfortable doing so, but still far away enough to maintain a respectful distance without appearing standoffish.

“I know it is small comfort Your Highness, but the lady Mildrea is here most weekends. You’ll still see her frequently.”

Josh nodded. “I know Max. It’s just that I’ve gotten so used to simply waking up in the morning and there she is. I know my parents are close by, but I hardly know them.” Josh’s head drooped until he was looking into his own lap, and his voice dropped to almost a whisper. “There is just so much that I’ve shared with my aunt over the years that she almost knows me as well as I know myself.” Josh shook his head, and his hair freely shook with him. He then said a little louder, “This must sound crazy to you Max, it sure as shit sounds crazy to me.”

“I can’t say that I understand what you are going through, I don’t think I could ever truly understand, but it certainly doesn’t sound crazy. However, I do know what it’s like to be closer to one particular relative; I’m much closer to my dad than I am to my mum, I always have been. Even though they both work and live here with me, because of the positions we occupy I naturally see far more of my dad. There are things my dad knows about me, that I’m just not ready to share with Mum yet.”

Josh smiled, the first time he’d smiled since Max had come in; it wasn’t much of a smile, but it was enough to let Max know Josh was in control of his emotions. “I guess hearing you say that, it doesn’t sound quite so crazy anymore. It’s just going to take time before I’m ready to share certain stuff with my parents.” Josh then though to the odd reason Max had used to explain his closeness to his father. “What do you mean by the positions you occupy? What does that have to do with why you are closer to your dad than your mum?”

Without giving it any thought, Max scooted closer to Josh until their thighs were touching; he just didn’t feel quite ready to put an arm around Josh’s shoulders.

“My mum is Mistress of the Queen’s Bedchamber, so she tends to spend most of her time in the royal apartments in the south wing, and since I have no domestic responsibilities to the Queen, I rarely see Mum during the working day. By the time we have both finished our working days, sometimes we barely have time to wish each other good night before going to bed.”

Josh knew that the adult servants were not permitted to retire for the evening until the last member of the family had gone to bed; if the family retired at the twentieth hour so could the servants, but if the family did not retire until the second hour of the following morning, then neither could the servants. However, he had failed to appreciate before just what kind of impact that could have on families amongst the staff. Josh promised himself there and then that he would never be responsible for keeping his staff working later than they needed to be; little understanding at the age of fourteen just how difficult a promise that could prove to keep.

Max continued talking, unaware of how Josh had reacted to the news concerning his relationship with his mother; or that he had even reacted it at all. “My dad as you know is Mr Flowers, and I am directly accountable to him, since most of my duties fall under the purview of the butlers. As a result, we see each other quite often during the day, and the entire butling staff also have three meetings a day to go over any issues that may have arisen. Before you moved here, I was one of the junior staff assigned to King Kenneth and so quite often worked under Dad’s direct supervision. Now that I have been assigned to you as a personal aide, I will also be having more formal meetings with my dad to keep him updated regarding your domestic arrangements. We also meet to go over any protocol issues that may arise during the day.”

“Max, how do you cope with working under your parents?” A look flashed over Max’s face that suggested Josh was being a little too personal. “I’m sorry, Max. You don’t have to answer that. Please feel free to tell me to mind my own fucking business.”

Max was surprised at Josh’s use of language, but elected not to comment on it. “That’s all right, Your Highness. I was just a little surprised at the question, it’s not one I really get asked.” Max thought for a moment as to how best to answer Josh’s question. “I guess it’s not really any different than working under anyone. I suppose it does feel a little awkward at times with him addressing me as ‘Page’ and me calling him ‘Mr Flowers’ while we are working, but then off duty we are father and son like any other family. I guess it can be tricky trying to keep our work and our family lives separate at times.”

Josh suddenly became more maudlin. “I get the feeling that’s what’s going to happen with me and my parents. In public, we will be the dutiful royal family always observing protocol, yet behind closed doors we will be just like any other family.” Josh’s voice cracked as he added, “Oh, for the simple life.”

Max wrapped an arm around Josh’s shoulder, just a friendly gesture to try to reassure the prince; Max was totally unaware of his own boldness and gave no thought at all as to how Josh would interpret this action. Neither boy was even aware when Josh practically melted into Max.

“It’s never easy Your Highness. I think that’s why I cling to protocol so tightly. It helps keep me centred on what role I’m playing, and how I should act towards my parents and others in any given situation at any given time.” The two boys sat for a few minutes in complete silence, each of them thinking about their own situations; Max even left his arm slung very companionably around Josh’s shoulder.

Josh continued to fret on what his life was going to be without Nate until after his coronation, how he was going to cope without his aunt’s constant reassuring presence in his life, and whether he would one day end up like Max so religiously clinging to protocol just be able to think straight.

Max, not for the first time, wondered if working directly under his father was somehow interfering with their personal relationship. He wondered what the future held for him as he slowly worked his way up the ranks of the palace staff. Most of all, he wondered if he would ever be able to release his death grip on protocol and truly relax around the prince.

“Jo—. Your Highness.” Max’s eyes widened as he realised just what had almost come out of his mouth. He quickly said, “You should be getting ready to head down to dinner, your clothes are ready for you to change into.”

Max bowed and hurried from the room without even waiting for Josh to dismiss him, as was mandated by his beloved protocol. Max was far too concerned with the horrific realisation that he had just come to within a hair’s width of calling the prince ‘Josh’ to be worried about such a little thing as protocol.

Max blindly ran up stairs and through halls to the servants’ quarters, his heart pounding a mile a minute. He nearly bowled over a daily maid and a hall boy in his hurry and did not even stop to offer his apologies.

As a page boy, Max officially outranked both members of staff (though, to be honest, the rats that infested the palace catacombs outranked the daily maids and the hall boys). He was therefore not obliged to offer them an apology, however he would do so, when he saw them later; if, and that’s a big if, he saw them later.

He had been asked not to rebuff any overtures that the prince made to friendship with him, but he was more than aware that he had just blatantly well overstepped the bounds of that request; addressing a member of the royal family by their proper name was tantamount to high treason. That was precisely why Max adhered to protocol so rigidly. It allowed him to interact with the entire palace, from the lowliest hall boy right up to King Kenneth and Queen Maria, whilst still maintaining his station and not overstepping himself.

He cursed his own stupidity! The prince had naturally been upset over the lady Mildrea’s departure, and they had shared something that they both struggle with, the idea of being formal with their parents in public yet being a normal family behind closed doors, and Max was simply trying to console the prince. It was something that Max had never shared with anyone before, not even with his father to whom he was so close, and Max felt that perhaps there was a chance that they could be friends, in spite of their respective positions. But now he had well and truly blown it!

Max just hoped against hope that by only getting as far as the initial ‘Jo—’, and no further, that the prince would see fit to forgive him the transgression; or, at the very least, overlook it. After all, the last thing he wanted to happen to himself was to be carted off to the Central Plaza in Rasunal, be stripped naked, have his hands and feet cut off, toe by toe and finger by finger, then be hung by his neck until he was dead, and have his gizzards fed to the birds. Max knew that that was the ancient method of execution in Salania for treason against the crown, and to the very best of his knowledge, it was still the method of choice, even though it had not been used in many centuries.

After getting over the initial shock of Max nearly calling him ‘Josh’, the prince left his room not sixty seconds later in pursuit of the page boy. Josh was struggling with how he was going to deal with this; he had slowly but surely been letting his guard down around Max, testing the waters as to how close he might be able to get to Max, but this was an eventuality that the prince had been completely unprepared for. In his hurry, he nearly bumped into one of the serving maids.

“Excuse me, it’s Georgette, isn’t it?”

Josh mentally patted himself on the back for remembering that, unlike male staff, the family should always address female staff by their proper name; the only exception, ever, being the housekeeper, who should always be addressed as ‘Mrs’ followed by her surname.

The serving maid was pleasantly surprised that the prince remembered her name, and for some reason felt honoured that he had correctly addressed her; she had heard through the palace grapevine how he sometimes struggled with addressing the staff in the correct manner. She had only been briefly introduced to Josh the previous evening before dinner; as the senior serving maid, Miss Perkins was responsible for serving Queen Maria and, ultimately, for the actions of all of the serving girls who are on duty during the service of meals in the dining room.

“Yes, Your highness,” she said, quickly curtseying.

“Would you please pass a message to my parents for me? Something important has arisen that I need to take care of, and I may be late for dinner, or may not be at dinner at all depending upon how long this takes.”

“Of course, Your Highness. Would you like for me to arrange for a serving plate to be brought to your room later if you do not arrive for dinner?”

“Thank you, if it will not be too much trouble.”

“Of course not. I will bring it up myself at the twenty first hour if you are absent from dinner.”

“Thank you, Georgette.” Josh was about to rush off, when he realised that he had no idea where he needed to rush to. “Oh, one more thing?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Did you happen to see which way Jacobs went?”

“I saw him running up to the servants’ quarters a couple of minutes ago.”

“Which way is the servants’ quarters?” Josh was probably more forceful with the question than he needed to be, but he needed to have this situation out with Max, and have it out now.

“Fifth floor, north wing, Your Highness.” Then Georgette realised what the prince had actually asked her, and quickly added, “If there is a domestic issue with Master Jacobs, you should really inform Mr Flowers, or the housekeeper, Mrs Montjoy.”

“This is a matter which requires my personal attention. It is not something that someone else can take care of for me.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Josh turned and ran up the central staircase, taking the stairs three at time. He reached the fifth floor, stumbling slightly on the last of the steps. He took his bearings, and after taking a few deep breaths to get some much needed oxygen into his system, proceeded down the sprawling north wing. Josh saw one of the other pages, who was presumably heading down to the kitchens to assist with serving dinner.

Josh stopped him. “Page?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

The page was stunned beyond belief at seeing the prince in the servants’ quarters; it was practically unheard of for the family to be up there. The last time it happened had been three cycles ago when Queen Maria came up to personally dismiss the Silver Service Footman.

After several complaints had been registered with Mrs Montjoy, it had transpired that he had been making unwanted advances of a personal nature towards several of the laundry maids, two of whom had not yet even had their Coming of Age. As far as the page knew, nobody amongst the servants had any idea what had happened to said footman, but given that the queen had been spitting fire, it was safely assumed that whatever had happened to him, it would have been far from pleasant. The page could not begin to imagine who could possibly have earned the prince’s personal displeasure after only a couple of days.

Actually, the most senior members of the palace staff did know the fate of the footman in question, but they had been sworn to complete secrecy. In spite of her personal dislike for the harshness of the law, Queen Maria had unhesitatingly handed him over to the Legality, accompanied by hand written orders that they were not to offer the footman clemency of any description. Despite the fact that he was in service to the monarchy, and therefore traditionally exempted from the death sentence for lesser crimes, she insisted that the full weight of the law must be brought to bear on him.

“Which one is Jacobs’ room?”

“Jacobs? Oh, you mean Max?”

“Yes. Which one is his room?”

“The last one on the left, Your Highness.” The page unnecessarily indicated further down the corridor.

“Thank you, Page.”

“If Your Highness will excuse me, I must be getting down to the kitchens to attend to my duties. I cannot be late.”

“Of course. You may go.”

The junior page boy, an eleven cycle old boy by the name of Charles Fitzon who had been working at the palace for about nine lumins, ran down to the kitchens as fast as his feet could carry him. Before Josh had even reached Max’s room, the kitchens were full of rumours that Max was in serious trouble.

Max had evidently done something serious enough to warrant a personal visit from the prince, in the servants’ quarters no less. One rumour said that Max had already been dismissed and ejected from the palace, another rumour said that the prince was seen carrying a riding crop, whilst other rumours were even more wild and fanciful.

These rumours, and others even more disturbing, quickly reached Mr Flowers’ ears and he nearly had a stroke. If any of the rumours were even remotely true, then the prince had greatly exceeded his authority. Palace protocol mandated that any issues with Max’s work were to be reported to either him as the number two, or directly to the lead butler; the senior staff report to the family, but, with the exception of the gravest of transgressions, only the senior staff may chastise those subordinate to them. The only exceptions were in the cases where a member of staff was discovered to be involved in criminal activities, in which event the family could deal with the staff as they wished; but surely, Max Jacobs could not have done anything of that nature.

Mr Flowers was however, bound by protocol to remain in the dining room until the family had finished dinner. Of course, Josh’s absence from dinner, coupled with the message that had just been delivered by the senior serving maid, gave fuel to the fire of the rumours of Max’s demise.

Mr Flowers beckoned Miss Perkins over to him after she had delivered Josh’s message to Queen Maria personally. The two servants had a hushed, yet quite animated, conversation in the corner of the dining room, away from prying ears. Nobody took any notice of it; it was not unusual for Mr Flowers to have quiet discussions with the staff during the family’s meals, especially given the dictates of protocol.

“Miss Perkins, is what you just relayed to Her Majesty accurate?”

“Of course it is Mr Flowers. I am not in the habit of telling untruths, let alone telling untruths to Her Majesty.”

“My apologies, I meant no insinuation. Did His Highness actually say that it ‘requires my personal attention’?”

“Yes, Mr Flowers. Those were his exact words. May I ask why?”

“There are rumours flying around below stairs concerning certain events that took place following your conversation. One of the junior pages saw the prince up on the fifth floor and he was asked which room belonged to Max.”

“Mr Flowers, you can’t read anything into it.”

“Miss Perkins, you know as well as I do, that the family rarely ventures into the servants’ quarters; it is an unwritten rule that our quarters are one of only a handful of places in the palace that is private from Their Majesties. There are rumours flying around down here like a forestfire, and one of those rumours is that the prince had a riding crop!”

“Mr Flowers, I can assure you that when the prince left me he was unarmed. Besides, His Highness did not appear to be angry when he spoke to me. He was flustered and flushed perhaps, but certainly not angry. Surely if Max had done something to vex the prince enough to warrant a visit in the servants’ quarters, then I would have thought that the prince would have been far more visibly perturbed when he spoke to me.”

“I just hope you are correct, Miss Perkins. The rumours down here are getting out of hand, and I am concerned for the welfare and safety of my son.”

Max was lying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling and pondering his fate, when he was startled by a knock on his door. He didn’t feel like getting up so he simply called out that the door was unlocked and for the person to enter. When he saw Josh standing in the doorway he knew his fate was sealed; this visit could really bode no good for him.

He dropped to his knees in front of Josh and wrapped both of his arms around one of the prince’s legs.

“Y-Y-Your H-H-Highness. I’m . . . I’m sorry . . . I beg of you . . . p-p-please . . . Your H-H-Highness—”

“Max.” Max either didn’t, or couldn’t, hear Josh; he just clung on to the prince’s legs even tighter.

“Please . . . I . . . I . . . b-b-beg you . . . d-d-don’t . . . .” Tears were streaming down Max’s face, snot was running from his nose in rivulets, and his voice shook even worse than his body did.

“Max, get up!”

“Your Highness, p-p-p-please—” Max’s voice was getting louder and louder the more he attempted to plead with the prince not to eject him from the palace. “I . . . I . . . b-b-beg of you . . . Your H-H-Highness—”

“Maximillian Jeremiah Jacobs! Shut up and get the fuck up!” Josh’s voice, usually so soft and gentle, echoed and reverberated in Max’s room, and then carried itself up and down the hallways of the entire fifth floor. Everybody and every creature within earshot of the prince’s yell reacted to it in some way or another.

A green hammerbird that had been resting peacefully on the ledge by Max’s half-opened window screeched its disapproval at having its slumber disturbed, and then it flew off into the ever darkening evening sky.

Two under chamber maids, each about eleven cycles old and with only a few lumins of service under their belts, were just coming out of Mrs Montjoy’s room, which was at the head of the corridor that Max’s room was in. They were about half way through their evening cleaning duties in the servants’ quarters when they heard the prince’s raised voice.

They looked at each other panic stricken. They knew how servants were treated in other kingdoms, but they had been personally assured by Queen Maria that that kind of treatment would never be inflected on them in Salania; however, it appeared as though her son was unaware of her assurances. Although it really wasn’t the done thing, and they would probably find themselves in trouble over it later, they decided to abandon the rest of their cleaning duties, at least temporarily, and hurried down to the dining room to alert Mr Flowers of what was threatening to occur between the prince and his son.

A pennyspider had been quietly making herself a new web high up in the corner of the room, and managed to snap the delicate gossamer she was spinning. The thread hung limply from the outer edge of the web and the pennyspider unhappily surveyed the damage that the sudden loud noise had caused her to make; surely, had she the ability to speak, she would no doubt be hurling a few choice expletives of her own in the direction of the young prince.

A hall boy in the south wing of the fifth floor heard the echo, and it sounded to him as though the prince was about to royally chastise one of the pages. Eight cycle old Humphrey Callory was just thankful that he was not the one on the receiving end of the tongue lashing; however, judging by the wrath being vented, it sounded as though the page may well be in for far more than a simple tongue lashing. After taking a few seconds to say a silent prayer for the poor page boy, young Master Callory quickly got back to his assigned duty of polishing the brassware, having no desire whatsoever to earn the prince’s, nor anyone else’s, displeasure.

A cornmouse was scurrying along the west wing of the fifth floor. The echo terrified her so much that she stopped dead in her tracks, and dropped the morsel of bread that she had found. She squeaked her annoyance, picked up the crumb of bread in her mouth, and with all haste headed for nearest hole in the woodwork.

A parlour maid, who had been in silent pursuit of the aforementioned cornmouse with a large metal fire poker ready to make it regret the day it had ever dared enter the royal palace, also stopped in her tracks at hearing the raised voice of the prince. She knew of only one person on the staff called Maximillian, and that was Mr Flowers’ son, the Prime Page and now personal aide to the prince. She couldn’t begin to imagine what such a dedicated and much respected individual had done to merit the prince publically venting his fury on him like an unforgiving volcano pouring molten lava on a defenceless village. Although it really was none of her never mind, she felt that she had to at least alert Mr Flowers; after all, he had been very good to her over the years.

Max’s begging abruptly stopped and his crying diminished into whimpering; however, he still remained kowtowed and trembling on the floor. He was now terrified as to what punishment awaited him. He felt an ever-growing pool of snot forming over his upper lip, but he dared not move; the slightest twitch on his part might start the prince off in earnest. Max had not even as much as looked Josh in the face, apart from the initial brief moment when Josh had first appeared in his room like The Avenging Angel Himself.

Back in the dining room, Sally, Josh’s usual serving girl, tapped Mr Flowers on the shoulder and indicated in the direction of the entrance. He looked over at the door to the dining room and was shocked to find two of the under chamber maids hovering in the hallway urgently beckoning him over.

He strode out into the hallway and was about to censure the two girls, when he heard someone running pell-mell down the central staircase and was surprised to see that it was Eleanor Phillson, one of the senior parlour maids.

He shook his head and thought to himself ‘Just what is the world coming to’. Two preteen girls interrupting him during service and ignoring their duties he could almost forgive, but a senior maid forgoing her duties to see if she could break her neck by running down the central staircase was something that he had never borne witness to, nor had he even heard of ever occurring before.

When Miss Phillson arrived at the bottom of the stairs, she was desperately out of breath and just about managed to say Mr Flowers’ name, before she started inhaling vast amounts of oxygen. She waved at the two young girls indicating that they could speak ahead of her while she regained control of her faculties.

“Mr Flowers sir, you need to get up to the servants’ quarters urgently.” Nancy decided she that she would be the spokesgirl, as she was nine minutes older than her sister, Clara.

“That is impossible; you know that my place is in the dining room during meal times.”

“The prince is in your . . . er . . . in Master Jacobs’ room. He was yelling and swearing. We were told that servants here were never mistreated. I, that is, we,” Nancy looked over at her sister, Clara, who nodded her support, “we, are afraid for Max. The prince sounded frightfully angry.”

“How do you two know what was happening in Max’s room?”

“The door was left open, and the prince’s cuss words echoed down the hallways. We had just finished in Mrs Montjoy’s room, and we heard the echoes from there.”

“I was—” Miss Phillson started, before taking a few more deep breaths. “I was in . . . west wing . . . fifth floor.” She took another deep breath to try to slow her heart rate down. “Heard shouting . . . prince swearing . . . never . . . never heard the like.” Miss Phillson half-collapsed into a nearby seat, still taking deep breaths to prevent herself from passing out due to a lack of oxygen.

“All right. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. You three return to your duties, I’ll arrange for the number one footman to cover for me during the rest of dinner.”

“Mr Flowers, sir,” said Nancy, “can we wait until you go up please? We’re too scared to go up on our own in case we run into the prince.”

“Very well. You two wait here.” He looked over at the parlour maid whose breathing was slowly returning to normal. “Miss Phillson, please return to your duties as soon as you are well enough.”

Mr Flowers hunted down Bernard Fielding, the number one footman, and told him that he would need to cover the rest of the dinner service. Mr Fielding had already heard the rumours and quickly agreed to stand in for Mr Flowers.

The rumours were slowly growing into a great series of stories. They had now progressed to the point where the prince was either going to throw a naked and crying Max from the highest tower of the palace, or that he had already beaten Max into unconsciousness and he was now prowling the fifth floor corridors looking for another poor unsuspecting servant upon whom to bestow physical violence.

Mr Flowers returned to the hallway, collected the two under chamber maids, and quickly headed up to the servants’ quarters. By the time he reached the fifth floor, he was huffing and puffing; he silently cursed the fact that the personnel dumbwaiters were currently out of commission pending renovation. He left the two girls at the next room they were to clean, and headed off to Max’s room as quickly as he could.

When he got there, he opened the door without knocking first. Max’s bed, which was usually the very epitome of neatness, was unkempt, his page’s uniform was in a pile on the floor, and the unmistakable stench of vomit emitted from them in waves. Of greatest concern, however, was the fact that his son was not in the room.

Mr Flowers hurried as quickly as could to the prince’s room, though quite what he was going to do when he got there he had no idea. He couldn’t exactly accost the prince and administer him a thrashing, but evidently, something had transpired between his son and the prince, and now his son was missing. As hard as was for him to believe, as much as it seemed to contradict what he thought about the young prince, it did seem as though the prince had done something to Max.

How could he have been stupid enough to listen to King Kenneth’s idea about allowing his son to befriend the prince? This story about one of the prince’s closest friends being a plebeian now seemed apocryphal; it seemed far more likely that the poor boy had either been bullied into, or more likely, paid into, befriending the demon dressed as an angel. Mr Flowers had always considered himself to be an excellent judge of a person, yet the prince had completely taken him in.

‘Prince or no, if he has dared to harm one hair on my son’s head, I swear by all the gods in the heavens that I will administer him a thrashing such as has never been seen nor heard of in all of Relan’s history’.

He arrived at the prince’s bedroom and ripped the door open, without even doing the prince the simply courtesy of knocking first.

“What the fu—” The rest of Mr Flowers' words were abruptly cut off by the scene in front of him.

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