The Crown Prophecy

by M. D. Laird

  Vox dissimulatrix or vox

  The vox dissimulatrix, or vox as it is commonly known, is a device which now has a range of features and facilitates many actions. The earliest form of vox was used around fifth century BC and concealed speech so that anyone eavesdropping would not overhear any secrets of our world. The early vox was not a device at all, but a potion and many would carry it in a vial around their neck, so it was handy should the need arise. Later an alchemist was able to infuse this potion into rocks and minerals which, when heated, would have the same effect. This was impractical in the open, but the rocks were often kept in the fireplaces of those living in Lycea to conceal the speech of the household from anyone listening outside. With the advent of clockwork, an alchemist was able to deduce that the clockwork could be used as a power source to power the spell. The first clockwork vox was an astrolabe, a device used by ancient Greek astronomers.

  The first incidence of the additional features of the vox came around 20 AD with the creation of the ‘tunnel network’. The tunnels are confusingly termed ‘network’ though they are not really a network at all and are simply artificially created entrances between worlds (see chapter). The tunnels allow those who do not have the ability to midspace, to enter Lycea. The astrolabe powered a potion within that would facilitate the entry of a person into the tunnel network midspace and another astrolabe would facilitate their transfer into Lycea. The astrolabe required vast quantities of potion to let very few people pass over, and it was rarely used.

  As clockwork became more sophisticated, more energy could be generated to power the tunnel entrances and more people were able to enter Lycea more frequently. The 16th century saw the invention of the first handheld portable device which could be used to conceal speech and operate the tunnel entrances. They were expensive and very few had access to them, but by the 17th century, most Arkazatines had access to a portable vox.

  Nowadays the vox, whilst maintaining the pocket watch design for the sake of posterity, has an ever-increasing range of features though it does not allow users to travel in the midspace like those who can spontaneously open entrances. IT specialists have worked closely with alchemists to design the software installed within the vox. At the time of print, the features of the vox include the operation of existing entrances and tunnels, securing speech, layered world maps of Lycea and Anaxagoras, and the ability to make and receive telephone calls. Regular software updates have allowed the vox to advance from a device with basic functions to the device it is today.

  The same technology has been applied to create entrances spontaneously without the use of existing tunnels. This requires a great deal of energy, but after successful trials, the outrider is due to be released for general sale. The outrider is closely modelled on the motor car from the Kingdom of Man allowing the user to blend in when it is in use. At the time of print, the outrider is not considered fuel efficient and is only recommended for use between Anaxagoras and Lycea. Creators are currently working on ways of improving the technology so that it requires less energy in the hope that it can one day become part of the vox technology.

  “Prince Calab,” said Eve. It was the third day of him barely speaking to her. “Have I done something to upset you? I feel like I have. We were getting on well and now-”

  “You haven’t,” he said. “I am quite preoccupied with the matters of the Imperium.”

  “I’m keeping you from that. I don’t mind if you need to attend to them, I feel safe at the guild.”

  “That may be wise.”

  A week passed and Eve had seen nothing of Calab. He did not dine with her or stay with her in the evening. She presumed that he thought if she felt safe in the day, she must feel safe at night too. She did feel safe though she could not help but crave his company. She had only stayed with him a few days and most of those he had ignored her, but she missed him and hoped every knock at the door would be him. Perhaps it was because he had been a semi-friendly face and she was alone in this world. Even Thalia had not visited her. She had sent some clothes and toiletries along the day after she had arrived and she had heard nothing more from her.

  Eve felt miserable. The beautiful room now felt like a prison. She was angry that Calab was supposed to be taking care of her and had not even called in to enquire of her wellbeing. Did he think taking care of her meant merely sending his servants to change the sheets and bring her food?

  She left her room for the first time in almost two weeks and found a guard stood outside the door. He nodded to her.

  “Hello,” she said nervously, “can I go for a walk in the gardens?”

  “Of course, Lady,” he said. “Follow me.” He walked quickly, and she had to jog to keep his pace. He led her to a dining hall where several demons were sat eating their lunch.

  “Her Ladyship would like a walk in the gardens,” announced her guard. All of the demons stood.

  “It doesn’t have to be now,” said Eve. “Finish your lunch first.”

  “They have finished,” said the guard bluntly.

  Eve winced apologetically at the demons who barely acknowledged her as they followed her and her guard to the gardens. The gardens were beautiful. They were like a renaissance garden and had a fountain, a maze of hedgerows and various classical style statues. However, it was not a very relaxing walk as the guards walked too closely to her for comfort and their constant vigilance made her jumpy. They said nothing to her, they were all around five inches taller than Calab, and appeared more intimidating for it.

  After ten minutes, she asked to return to the guild. The demons returned to their lunch and her guard remained with her. She considered asking him to give her a tour of the guild, but she had not been told to make herself at home and feeling a little uncomfortable. She requested to visit the library instead. The guard opened the door to let her in, and she found Calab in there. Her heart jolted when she saw him. She had not expected to see anyone there, presuming the guard would not show her in if it was occupied.

  “I’m sorry, Prince,” she spluttered. “I’ll leave you.”

  “No, come in,” he said. “Wait outside,” he told the guard.

  Eve stood awkwardly waiting for him to speak and when he said nothing she asked, “Are you well?”

  “Yes,” he replied, “are you?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Another moment of silence passed, Eve surveyed her surroundings—the library was breathtaking. “Is there any progress with unseating the Imperator?” she said after he had said nothing more.

  “No.”

  Eve nodded. More silence. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said and hurried out of the door to return to her room. Eve then wrote the previous thirty minutes off as the most awkward of her life and vowed not to leave the room again until she was queen.

  Another two days passed and Eve felt stir crazy. She was desperate to get out of the room and felt she would leap from the window if she had to stay there a moment longer. She had read all the books Calab had given her and wanted to get more, but more than anything, she wanted to speak to someone about more than her meal preferences. She broke her vow and left the room. It was a different guard, and he looked less severe.

  “Do you need something, Lady?” he asked.

  “I just want a walk,” she said. “I’m going crazy in that room. Can you recommend anywhere?”

  “There are the gardens, the library,” he said, “or the music room.”

  “Do you play?” she asked.

  “The piano,” he said, “a little.”

  “Will you play for me?”

  “I’m not sure the prince would like that.”

  Eve shrugged her shoulders and smirked. “Tell him I insisted as the future queen.”

  He gave her a weak smile and led her to the music room. The room was modest in size, smaller than her suite, and housed a piano and a range of string, brass, woodwind and percussion instruments. She settled in a seat by the door as the guard appr
oached the piano.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Tamiel, Lady.”

  “I’m Eve.”

  Tamiel shook his head and said, “The prince would absolutely not like that, Lady.”

  He started to play. Eve did not know enough about classical music to know whether he played well, but to her, it sounded beautiful. She was impressed that, like Calab, his talons seemed to be no hindrance. She was lost in the music, and for a few precious moments, she forgot where she was and why she was there. That is until,

  “What is this?” Calab asked, his tone irritated.

  Eve jumped, and Tamiel had stood to attention. “I asked him to play for me,” she replied.

  “That is not appropriate.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he is supposed to be guarding you. He cannot ensure your safety if he is playing the piano.” Calab growled, each word getting louder and directed more towards Tamiel.

  Eve felt a rush of guilt. “Please don’t blame Tamiel,” she begged. “I insisted, I told him as the future queen I insist he should play.”

  “You are not the queen yet.” Calab snarled. “You don’t get to give my men orders.”

  “Calab, I’m sorry,” she started.

  “It’s Prince Calab,” he snapped.

  “Prince Calab. I’m sorry. I’m just so bored, I am sick of having no one to talk to or nothing to do. I have been staring at the same four walls for two weeks, and it’s driving me mad.”

  “We are here to keep you alive not keep you entertained.” He glared angrily at her before turning his eyes on the guard. “Tamiel, take her back to her room, and the next time you ignore your orders, I will have you whipped.” Tamiel nodded and Eve followed him not wishing to get him into any more trouble.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as they arrived at her room. “I should have listened to you when you said he wouldn’t like it.” Tamiel nodded but said nothing. “Would he really have you whipped?”

  The demon shrugged. “If I disobey him again he might.”

  She gave an apologetic smile, “You play beautifully.” He nodded his thanks and resumed his post.

  Eve sat glumly on the bed. She should have just visited the library instead, now she was stuck in her room again with nothing to read, and Calab was mad at her and the guard. She huffed and snatched one of the books she had already read from the table and began to read it.

  Several hours later, there was a knock at the door. Eve looked at the time.

  Supper already.

  Her stomach growled in response. She opened the door and found Calab there with her supper tray, a jug of wine and a serving of sticky toffee pudding with custard.

  “A peace offering,” he said. “I apologise if I seemed unfair earlier. I can arrange for you to hear the piano under proper supervision if you’d like?”

  She smiled at him and nodded. “Will you be joining me for supper?”

  “I have urgent matters to attend to,” he said. “I will be sure to visit you soon.”

  Calab’s perception of ‘soon’ differed somewhat from her own, and another two days had passed, and she had not seen him. She had ventured to the library and spent a good few hours choosing books, and had braved the garden again. She had found a quiet, beautiful spot by the water fountain to sit. Though the weather was cold, she enjoyed the fresh air and the pretence of freedom as she read her book and forgot about her demon guards who were keeping a close vigil. Nearby she saw two replica statues of Bacchus, the Roman God of Wine. There was the drunken one by Michelangelo, and the other was the rotund man astride the turtle. She smiled to herself.

  Demons really are very fond of wine.

  Calab finally visited her for supper the next day. He teetered between friendliness and irritability, but she craved the company of another hu— life form so badly that she would have been happy if he had said nothing.

  “Is there any news on the Imperium?” she asked.

  “We have called a meeting with the Imperator to advise him that the Crown has emerged and to request that he steps down,” he said. “It could be dangerous. He will most likely not go quietly, and he will be heavily guarded. We expect there to be trouble. He has prevented all orders from entering the Imperium with arms though his own guards will be heavily armed.”

  “That sounds risky.”

  “It is,” he replied, taking a mouthful of salmon. “But the thorian rulers have abilities, and we plan to have demons and angels waiting in the midspace. We haven’t seen evidence of it, but we suspect that he is working with at least one dark alchemist who could cause us difficulties.”

  “I don’t think I like that plan.”

  “It’s not for you to worry about.”

  “I’ll be queen soon; I’ll have to worry about things then.”

  “The Crown does not deal with warfare; the Impærielas do not have an army. The only security you’ll be responsible for are the guardians. The rest of Arkazatinia manages the defence.”

  “I don’t like that plan either.”

  “It’s the way it is.”

  “We’ll see,” she retorted. Calab glared at her. Eve took another mouthful of food and changed the subject. “What powers do alchemists have?”

  “Their power varies, but essentially they manipulate matter. That can be anything: rock, metal, water, air, fire, magic… You’re a scientist, you know everything is an arrangement of atoms. They rearrange them, slowly. They cannot use their powers in dramatic battles of the elements. Rarely do alchemists weaponise their talents, the alliance certainly does not utilise alchemists in battle. Very rarely—extremely rarely—they can manipulate the soul. We have only ever seen two in Arkazatinia, but we would not want another. They were dark alchemists and used their gifts to remove the souls from human bodies and they sold them to witches. The bodies remained animated and walked the earth until their heads were severed and their bodies burned—that’s where your zombie stories come from.”

  Eve shivered. “Why would witches want souls?”

  “Sacrifices, offerings…there are many reasons,” said Calab. “Their power is from the elements. They call it the elements, but it is not something that can be explained by your table of elements. It is some force that we do not understand and whatever they use, they have to pay back to maintain balance. Buying souls meant they did not have to sacrifice their own. The alchemists’ power, though usually not as powerful, is similar. They cannot gain anything without giving something in return; they call it an equivalent exchange.”

  “Like the conservation of energy?”

  “Yes. When the light alchemists manipulate matter, for example, they are not changing any of its properties—they are merely altering its shape. When the dark alchemists or the witches engage in darker activities, they are usually gaining something whether it is the power to carry out a spell or perform a rite, so they have to pay the debt with something of equivalent value.”

  “What happened to those alchemists?”

  “They were executed,” he replied bluntly. “And good riddance too. A soul that is taken from its body before death can never find peace. It can find neither Heaven nor Hell, it can never know joy or pain, but seeks the light for all eternity.”

  Eve gulped, for some reason that terrified her. She sipped at her tea and asked, “What is the difference between light and dark alchemists? Are the light ones the good guys and the dark the bad?”

  “It has fallen that way though there is no real difference in power. The alchemists can be born from any order—except demons and angels of course—and whilst most use their gifts to make a living, there are others who use them for darker purposes. At some point, around three thousand years ago, the high priest at the time was an alchemist and decided that he wanted them to form an order like Asmodeus, Procnatus, etc. He set up an academy under his family name Licinius, and they were known as the Licinius alchemists, over time they were referred to a
s the Lic alchemists.

  “Another group emerged who were less interested in using their powers for the good of the people, and they called themselves something which translates roughly to the Night Brotherhood. Eventually, people started to refer to them as light and dark alchemists though that has only been in the last thousand years.”

  “I thought it was because they were on the light and dark sides of the force.” Eve smirked. Calab looked puzzled. “Don't tell me you have never seen Star Wars? What have you been doing for the last thirty years? On a serious note, if alchemists don’t really weaponise their talents, why would you be concerned about them working with the Imperator?”

  “Because they occasionally present with abilities that cause us problems.”

  “What would they do to me if they found me?”

  “They won’t get close enough to you to do anything.”

  “What if they did?”

  “You don’t want to know the answer to that.”

  “Why?”

  “You will not be able to sleep.”

  “Is knowing worse than not knowing?”

  Calab shrugged. “I don’t know, but you can’t decide to not know something once it has been said.”

  She swallowed nervously and changed the subject, “Would you really have whipped Tamiel?”

  “What?”

  “You said if he disobeyed you again you’d have him whipped. Would you?”

  “How I discipline my men is my affair.”

  “I won’t tolerate people being whipped under my rule.”

  Calab’s eyes flamed at her, and he snapped, “You need to stop interfering in matters that don’t concern you.”