Excerpt: Lost Years Quintet

Ineko watched from the deep shadows high on the tower, watched as the country that he was so painstakingly try to keep in one piece fall apart, bit by bit. This day was painfully similar to previous days. The noise, even from these heights, was unmistakable. The crowds in the street, chanting, the same chants that they’d been using for however many months this had been going on. The Abrosuli wanted their formal independence, and were among the most vocal about it. Sure, Thadion was involved in a bloody, drawn-out conflict, and Estaveos at least had the good grace to stay within its borders for the most part, but the Abrosuli regularly sent hundreds of their people to the capital to protest. In addition, all the Abrosuli that had immigrated from that desolate wasteland seemed to support their homeland. Ineko couldn’t understand why. It was ice and mountains and cold. There was little there of value to anyone, and it was functionally unable to sustain itself without outside aid. Judetona had provided that aid for a long time, until the Abrosuli people decided that they would rather change sides, and were now receiving aid from Namasova, a move that only intensified the crisis.

He forced the train of thoughts to stop and looked back out over the masses. It wouldn’t be long until the military came out and hauled all those not quick enough off to jail. And given King Lehoi’s mood lately, things were not looking all that promising for those that were caught. Ineko couldn’t say he felt any sympathy for them. They were bringing down, brick by brick, the nation that he was desperately trying to preserve in the face of a monarchy that was almost out of control.

A flash of color caught his eye. He turned towards it and was aghast at what he saw. He squinted to make sure that his eyes were not failing him, and then turned from the corner, racing down the steps and out the gate right by the tower. If he was lucky, he might get there in time, before the mob massacred Crown Prince and sole heir to the throne, Aitor. He reached the site of the protest out of breath and bent down, hands on his knees to catch his breath. It was not his job to babysit the prince, and there was a reason he had such a large contingent of minders. It was just like Aitor to wander out to see what the protest was about just because he felt like it. Ineko dreaded the day that his father died. It was hard enough to keep things in line as it was.

Having regained his breath, he pushed his way into the street, shouldering aside all the Abrosuli that he came into contact with and tried to keep an ear out for the sounds of the military; he was not well known enough to prevent himself from being taken along with the Abrosuli if he was found here amongst them.

Finally, he came on the prince, who looked horribly out of place. Most of the Abrosuli people were wearing little more than rags - they tended to be a very impoverished lot, even the ones that had migrated away from that province, and the prince was dressed in a sky blue silk tunic. He was wide-eyed and his mouth even hung open a little as he looked around him, seemingly unaware of the danger that he was in. Ineko thanked all the gods that no one had yet seemed to notice Aitor.

He grabbed the prince by the arm and pulled him around so they were looking at each other. “What are you doing here?” Ineko asked, shouting not only because of his infuriation but because the noise in this mob was surely enough to deafen anyone should they stay here too long.

“I just wanted to see what was going on,” said Aitor. His guileless grey eyes bore out the truth of that. He was so naïve, so young, despite being nearly seventeen, and it was just the kind of stupid thing that he would go and do and not see any fault with it.

“Well, if this mob realizes who you are, you’re dead or kidnapped or both. Come with me.” While Ineko really hated direct action like this - there was a reason he was a spy - at some point, he had to step in before this all got bloody. Keeping a firm grip on the prince’s arm, not caring about the fact that he was not technically supposed to lay a hand on the prince’s person, he began to drag him out of the mob. Aitor didn’t put up much of a fight, either, which was like him, too.

When they were a few streets away and unlikely to be associated with the Abrosuli, Ineko stopped and once again turned to look at the boy. “Where are your bodyguards?”

Aitor shrugged. “I managed to lose them. I just wanted to…I wanted to go out there and see what it was like. It was…incredible. The energy that those people have, how strong they feel about something…I wish I had that kind of passion about something.”

Ineko shook his head. “They’re rebels and irritating ones at that. It’s fine to have a passion for something, but that something should not disrupt the country. These are the problems that you are going to inherit from your father unless something is done about them.” He tried to hide his wince at that idea.

Aitor shrugged. “Can we just go back to the castle?” Now he was entering his sullen phase, when it had finally sunk in that what he had been doing was wrong, but he was unwilling to admit it because he was the heir to the throne and thus could never make a mistake with anything. He pulled his arm free of Ineko’s grasp and walked towards the castle looming just a few streets distant.

Ineko watched him walk away. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the child. For the most part, he stayed away from him. One day, he would inherit the responsibility of dealing with him, just as he had the responsibility of handling his father. But not today. Not yet. He shook his head and turned back in the direction of the protest. He was fairly sure he could hear hooves - the military had shown up to deal with things. He smiled; order would soon be restored.

Yet, there was some part of him that felt some kind of remorse at even having those feelings. Many years ago, when he had been barely as old as Aitor, he had left Abrosul and had never looked back once. He never wanted to have anything to do with it; he had worked hard to lose the harsh Abrosuli accent and sound like everyone else here in the capital of Ugona. But these people that were being arrested were his countrymen, and so he really couldn’t find it in him to condemn it utterly.

He turned his back on his people, yet again, and walked slowly back towards the castle. The streets were fairly crowded, there seemed to be an unusually high number of market stalls open today. He drew his arms in close to his body and as soon as he could, found a wall to slide up against. If there was one thing that he truly hated, it was masses of unthinking people. He took a few deep breaths and continued to walk along the wall, the wall that surrounded the castle, his hand on the cool stone, feeling the roughness under his fingers.

He reached a small crack and looked around to make sure no one was watching him. This was one of the best kept secrets of the castle, and for good reason. Turning his back to the crack so as to obscure what he was doing, he reached his hand into the crack and with a little groping around, found the lever that widened the crack to just enough for a man to slip through.

Ensconced in the darkness of the tunnel, he let out a sigh of relief. Another crisis averted, another good day’s work, even if it wasn’t work that he should have had to be doing in the first place. It was exceptionally cool in the tunnel and the walls were damp with condensation. The ceiling was not much higher than his head, so he often stooped to walk along it although that was not strictly necessary. But he always made these trips slowly, as he found this tunnel the most soothing place in the entire castle. That was something that he shared with a precious few, fewer even than the number of people that knew of the existence of this secret tunnel. But this was a place of calm, of quiet where he could just stand and let the world rush by him.

This was, perhaps, the only part of Abrosul that he would perhaps have been able to say that he truly missed. There were few places of absolute silence within this city, but in Abrosul, it was so easy to find a place to be alone and to let all of your thoughts organize themselves without constant interruption from the world. He was glad that he had this place, as well as one or two other hiding holes throughout the city. If he had not had them, he would have been willing to bet his sanity would not have remained with him all of these long years he had been here.

But as with all good things, they must come to an end, and he emerged from the tunnel into a dark hallway in one of the more remote wings of the castle. This was a route he knew well, though others might easily have grown confused and lost within minutes. It was part of the design of this wing to be intentionally confusing, and it had taken Ineko some time to get the route down perfectly. After nearly twenty years, though, it was as easy as walking a straight line.

Almost before he knew it, he emerged into a more well-lit hallway and encountered his first person in perhaps an hour. It was just a guard, but he was suddenly glad for a human presence. The guard saluted him, even though there was no real reason for him to do so - Ineko held no formal title nor real position of power, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

He passed by the guard and made his way to the king’s wing. No one made any attempt to stop him as he walked down the hall to the king’s study. He was well enough known in this wing, at all hours of the day and night. He was not quite so familiar with the king, though, that he could afford to not knock before entering.

“Another protest by the Abrosuli,” said Ineko, walking in and closing the door. “Except today your son decided he wanted to visit…alone.”

Lehoi looked up, his eyes widening in surprise, an emotion that quickly shifted to anger. “What could he possibly have been thinking?” It was only after a pause - rather telling, Ineko thought, about the strained relationship between father and son - that he asked, “Is he okay?”

“I happened to spot him and was able to get him out of harm’s way before anything untoward happened. I sent him back here, though knowing him, that doesn’t mean he’s back yet.” Aitor had a propensity to wander off. So far, he’d never come back from any of these escapades with serious injury, but that didn’t mean it was acceptable behavior.

“Something has to be done about my son,” said Lehoi, shaking his head. “The way things are…they cannot remain this way. My son is not fit to rule this country.”