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Heavy is the head that wears the crown, or whatever other bullshit people say.
Prince Robert Robertson the III still wasn’t sure what type of king he wanted to become. His father, Robert Robertson the II, of course, hadn’t been there to guide him—a direct consequence of the never-ending battle against Warlord Shroud’s rebellion. This meant he was left to learn on his own from an early age. Good old trial and error he called, except the ramifications could mean civilian lives lost or a potential coup, so no pressure.
He sat at his round table for another strategic meeting. In his opinion, these meetings were less about war strategies or reporting the kingdom’s affairs, but instead a way for his advisors to talk his ears off with meaningless complaints. He rubbed his temples. Kingsley spoke up, murmuring something about the ‘dreadful state of the Robertson statue’ and how it disrespected his father's legacy due to its abysmal upkeep. Robert hated how he talked like his father was already dead. He knew he was still fighting the good fight, and once he returned, Robert would be freed from his mock-kingly responsibilities.
Kingsley still droned on in the background, and Robert could feel a migraine rapidly approaching. It felt like half of his councilors couldn’t fathom the lives of the commonfolk, the very people they were meant to be serving. Admittedly, he also rarely left the castle walls. He loathed public appearances. He’d rather work behind the scenes to improve the livelihood of his people, not smile and wave while pretending all was alright.
Chase cleared his throat, which made Kingsley’s speech come to a halt. Robert respected Chase’s word above all else. He was his father’s top advisor and showed wisdom beyond his years. While he wasn’t there to guide Robert during the beginning of his sovereignty, which was allegedly due to a ‘health concern’, he’s thankful for his presence now.
“On to more important matters,” Chase begins, throwing a pointed look at Kingsley, then returning his attention to Robert, “We’ve received word this morning that your father’s army has made progress on the Eastern front.”
Robert nods solemnly, “And of our forces? How are they doing?”
“Morale is up,” Chase starts with a wary look, “However, their resources are sorely depleted. They’ve been livin’ off the land for the time being, but with the Red Ring cutting off supply routes, there’s little we can do.”
Robert clenches his hands. He can feel his nails dig into his palm, forming small crescents under the pressure. It should be him on the battlefield—not this father. He’d be far more useful there than being confined to playing diplomat.
“And another thing,” Chase continues, and Robert’s eyes snap up. Right, the meeting. “With the Red Ring causing chaos along the nation’s outskirts, more and more refugees are heading inland—specifically towards the capital. We worry that with this mass migration, some rebels might slip through the cracks.”
Robert nods again. That makes a lot of sense. Shroud’s army has been trying to establish a presence in the capital for a long time. While he’s been unsuccessful for now, there’s no telling when that might change.
“And what do you think we should do about that?” Robert’s eyes sweep the table. “I won’t close our gates. These people need refuge. I will not abandon them.” He finishes sternly.
“I think we should increase guards around the castle, and especially more security for you, little prince,” Chase responds. There's a mirthful twinkle in his eye upon finishing his sentence. Chase liked to make some light-hearted fun of him.
Robert pauses for a moment, letting his words settle. “We’ll increase the number of guards at our gates and surrounding the palace, but that’s it. I trust my security detail currently and don’t see fit to add any more.” There is silence afterwards. Nobody seems tempted to argue with the prince. Robert questions, “Is that all?”
There are slight nods around the table before he finally concludes, “Then this meeting is adjourned.”
All his advisors get up to leave, chatting with one another as they exit. Chase arises from his seat and assuredly pats Robert’s back.
“You did good kid.” He says. As Robert views him again, he notices his tired expression. During the older man's medical leave, there were rumors of a curse placed upon him, but Robert hadn't paid them any mind. Chase hasn’t been the same since returning from his medical absence, more burden and cynical. He certainly looks older—though Robert always chalked it up to stress.
Despite his concerns, he only offers a small smile and a nod in return. Chase turns to leave, and Robert’s head rests in his hands while hearing the faint steps of the other man leaving.
The prince isn’t left alone for long, however, as he registers the creaking of the door opening and the clank of metal hitting metal. The chair next to him scratches the floor softly as it’s pulled out, and he raises his head to see his personal knight sitting there.
“Blazer,” he greets her.
“Mandy,” she corrects him. Among the candle lights and setting sun, her armor has a faint glow, and the red jewel on her chestplate shimmers. Her head is leaning on her hand, and she’s flashing him a radiant smile. It’s the kind that makes the corner of her eyes crinkle and leaves Robert stupefied.
“Mandy.” He says back, her name, Blonde Blazer, is technically reserved for those lower ranked than her, which is pretty much everyone, besides him and his father. She’s his sole knight, which slightly confuses him because he thinks someone of her talent would be more useful in the forefront of the war rather than being quelled within the confines of this castle.
“Same as always?” She questions.
“Same as always,” Robert affirms. “Though, I should tell you now there's going to be an increase in guards around the castle.”
The blonde woman perks up at this, raising a singular brow, “Why is that?”
Robert massages his forehead again, “Influx of people from the warring zones to the capital—they’re worried some Red Rings could sneak in, and I assume, assassinate the crown prince.”
“Well, I would never let that happen,” Mandy responds.
“I told them as such, which is why my amount of personal security will remain the same,” he gets out of his seat. He just wants to go back to his quarters and take a nice, long rest; everything is far too complicated for him.
The armor-clad woman follows suit, “Good to know you think I’m all the security you need.” She grins and elbows him lightly.
He feigns injury, earning a melodic laugh out of her, “Yeah, yeah.” He grumbles. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
By now, the sun has fully set, leaving the hallway moonlit while their steps carry throughout the palace. In all the time he’s lived here, as long as he’s been alive, really, the castle has always echoed. No matter how much decor they place, the rugs, the banners, the portraits, it’s always been missing something that will make it sound full, make it feel homey.
Mandy glances over at him from time to time. Her eyes are a nice sky blue—the kind of sky blue you can’t ascertain through the restrictive castle windows but rather outside, free from this stony, desolate place. Although, despite this, Robert recognizes a hint of something else. Whatever it may be, it is far too complicated for him to recognize.
Maybe if he left these walls, he’d understand. Maybe his father would know what it is, maybe he should’ve been around to teach him.
Lost in thought, he sees they’ve arrived just outside his quarters. Face to face with his bedroom door.
Blazer’s eyebrows are furrowed. It seems like she was also preoccupied with something. She hesitates before she speaks earnestly, “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, right, Robert?”
“I know Mandy.” He responds, then pauses. “Though I am also more than capable of fending for myself,” he adds with a wry smile.
Her expression softens, “I know.”
His hand rests on the doorknob as the woman next to him clutches his free hand. She brings it up to her lips and lays a small peck on it before whispering, “Goodnight, sweet prince.”
“Goodnight, my valiant knight.”
She releases his hand, and he enters his chambers, leaving her outside his door at her post. He lays his crown on his dresser. The moonlight bounced off it, causing it to reflect wildly, engulfing his room. He’ll sleep tonight, like every night, soundly under his courageous knight’s protective watch.