The sun was at its zenith, peeking shyly from behind a mighty mountain. An ashen bird, attracted by the song of another, rose from a snow-covered branch and, fluttering its tiny wings, flew over the castle wall. And if a bird could be disappointed, it would probably have done so at that moment. The song it heard was indeed a melody played on an instrument.
The sound of a small pipe carried merrily across the castle square above the heads of passersby. The youth, dressed in colorful cloth with bells attached to his ankles, attracted the attention of the common folk. Those of higher social status avoided the musician, not even sparing him a glance. On a chest next to the boy sat a young girl, her nose pink from the slight frost, freckles on her nose, her hair strangely spiky, and she tapped a tambourine in time to the music. The children watched the couple's exploits shyly, a small crowd of onlookers standing in a circle, making way for the dancing boy with the pipe. The melody grew increasingly cheerful and lively, and murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd. A brown-haired girl emerged from the crowd, dragging two little girls behind her, and began dancing with the musician. After a moment, the rest of the children joined her. The older children laughed, the girl danced lively, as if forgetting the world around her. The children giggled, the melody grew louder, more aggressive, and the girl ran wild among the little ones as if possessed, sweeping the cobbled, snow-covered courtyard with her gray dress and cloak. People watched her feats, nodding and clapping along. The pipe in the musician's hands became a heavenly instrument, and its simple sounds the most beautiful music. The girl with the tambourine rose from her chest and began tapping her heels against it. The dancer laughed loudly and spurred someone in the crowd to dance. This emboldened the crowd, who also came closer, jumping, clapping, and shouting. The musician roared through the crowd, the girl on the chest thumping her tambourine forcefully. The dancer in the gray dress disappeared. The melody stopped. The boy and girl bowed, gazing greedily at the dozens of coins thrown their way by the happy, applauding crowd.
"Octavia, what are you doing here?"
The girl in the gray dress was pulled aside by a tall man in traveling clothes. The girl looked into his face and recognized him immediately. Instead of a word of greeting, she threw her arms around his neck with a loud laugh.
"Oh, Liberta, I've never had such a wonderful time as I did listening to this melody!" she exclaimed, her voice as delicate as a nightingale's song filled with joy and excitement. The man carefully pushed her away.
"I've had occasion to notice," he said tartly, a hint of anger appearing on his young but serious face. "It's not fitting for a princess to be like this... among ordinary people..."
"I'm ordinary too!" Octavia protested, looking pleadingly at Libert. She was breathing rapidly from exhaustion, hot steam escaping from her pale pink lips. "I'm just like everyone else, except I live far away from them! And far away from you..." She lowered her voice slightly. The man closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Libert, when will you accept that I want to be with you? When will you understand that..."
"I know, Octavia, I know that," Libert interrupted, lowering his head. "The thing is..."
"That I shouldn't, I know. I know that." Octavia turned her head and looked into the crowd. The musician had already collected all the coins and began playing another tune, just as lively and cheerful as the last one. "This knowledge keeps me awake every night, and every morning makes me not want to wake up."
"Octavia, do you think I don't reciprocate your feelings?" Libert took the princess's left hand and kissed the signet ring on her finger. "This ring should remind you of that at any time of day or night."
Octavia looked at the man again, and sparks lit in her eyes.
"Then allow me to give you something that will remind you of me and my love for you.
" "I can't agree to that," Libert protested firmly. "It's not proper...
" "Have you," Octavia interjected, "been taught what's improper for half your life?
" "All of it," the man corrected with a slight smile.
"Don't let me ask you." The princess approached Libert a little. "Actually, it's an order.
" "More like blackmail?
" "Too."
Octavia smiled brightly and ran across the crowded courtyard. Libert raced after her, trying to keep her in sight while avoiding trampling anyone along the way. He knocked over passersby and caught up with Octavia right at the palace walls.
"Come!" the princess tugged at his hands, and they ran along the wall. They passed through a wrought-iron gate and circled the treasury building.
"We'll enter this way." Octavia, increasingly out of breath, jumped up the stone steps and pulled out a bunch of keys. The man glanced back. The faint melody of the musician and his accomplice still drifted from the square. High mountain peaks dominated the walls, and the snow on the slopes sparkled like diamond dust in the winter sun. The trail silently beckoned Libert.
"Come!" Octavia snapped the man out of his reverie and pulled him down the corridor she had just opened. Libert obediently followed her, saying nothing.
The cool stone walls, lit by torches, echoed their quick footsteps. They reached another door. Octavia pulled out her ring of keys again and skillfully found the one that fit the lock.
"Since when does the princess have the habit of carrying all the palace keys?" Libert asked, surprised. Octavia laughed.
"Since never. But let's assume she had the opportunity to steal a few from the servants." She pushed the door open gently, and it opened without a bang. The room was unusually cold. "You're advised to watch your step," the princess smiled, reaching for a burning torch stuck in the wall. She stepped inside, Libert following her. Coins clinked underfoot.
"So this is what a royal treasury looks like?" he asked almost in a whisper, captivated by the sheer number of objects every man in the world dreams of. Around him were stacked crystal and oak chests full of precious stones, the stone walls were hung with paintings in elaborately and richly decorated frames, and on elaborate ebony tables were carelessly arranged figurines and sculptures made of gold and silver, carved from large blocks of red garnet and green emerald.
"Did one of those pebbles fall down your throat?" Octavia asked liltingly, pouring a dozen or so obsidians from hand to hand, ignoring the fact that they fell from between her fingers and rolled across the stone floor.
"N... No," Libert finally managed. "It's just... I've never seen so much wealth in one place at one time," he explained.
"Father's a maniac," Octavia stated angrily, throwing the last obsidian at the other end of the treasury. "If I could, I'd give it all to the poorest. You saw them there, today, in the courtyard," she reminded bitterly. "I wish all people had a little happiness in life. If I can't give it to them with gold, then I try to cheer them up... just a little." She paused, staring at her gray shoes. "I'm sorry to bother you." We didn't come here to talk about my dreams." She shook her beautiful head briskly and examined the contents of one of the boxes. "Have you spotted anything yet?"
Libert wasn't listening to what Octavia was telling him. He stood like an old tree with long roots sunk deep into the earth, staring at the medium-sized figurine.
"Libert?" The princess placed the pearl brooch back in the box and approached the man. "Oh, did you like it?" She grabbed the statuette. It was a white raven, intricately carved in perfectly white jadeite, the symbol of the entire land belonging to Menarine, a symbol of a deity worshiped in temples and exalted above all else. Octavia examined the statuette closely. It was perfect, as if crafted by a superhuman hand. "I got it for my birthday. You can have it."
"Mhm..." Libert simply muttered and hid the statuette in the inside pocket of his leather vest. "Thank you."
The princess frowned slightly.
"Is something wrong?" she asked cautiously.
"No," Libert replied immediately. "No. Nothing's happening." He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, he seemed to have woken from some trance. "Thank you again. Is it proper for a princess to give her property to strangers?" he asked with a slight smile.
"Everything is proper for a princess," she said, stepping closer to Libert. The man shyly embraced her waist. "Only some of these things no one should know," she added, pressing herself against Libert's body. "Do you love me?" she asked.
The man remained silent. He looked into Octavia's restless, blue eyes.
"I do," he replied.
He left the next day.
***
The blue stained-glass window, made of rock crystal, was almost completely obscured by the snow that had been falling relentlessly for several days. Princess Octavia tapped her fingers on the window. After Libert's unannounced departure from Menarine, she felt as if she had been flayed. The signet ring on her left hand was a malicious reminder of the existence of the man to whom she had given her whole heart and a small jade statuette.
"The trail called you, you said," she whispered to herself, leaning her forehead against the cold windowpane. "I don't know what it's like. I don't understand." A lump formed in her throat, and her eyes stung violently. Slowly, she slipped the ring from her finger and clenched it in her fist. "Come back, I begged. But you weren't listening anymore..."
The chamber suddenly seemed cold and austere, too large for a single princess. Silence bounced off the walls, the candle flames froze. Octavia felt a growing chill around her. She longed.
"I feel as if I'll never be happy again, Liberta," she said softly, staring at the stained-glass window. "When you left, you robbed me of my joy."
The key clicked in the lock. The vault door opened, and King Aspasius stood there. As was his custom, he went on a tour of the castle. His meticulousness and attention to even the smallest details had developed over the years, but it didn't particularly bother anyone. It had a positive effect on the kingdom and the palace itself—it was hard to complain when everything was always taken care of down to the last detail.
A count of paintings. Five, ten, another ten. Gilded carpets, rolled into thick rolls, stood in place. Chests in neat rows, untouched.
King Aspasius flitted like a shadow between the towers of coins and precious metal. In fact, he had come to the treasury for one purpose only: to check if a certain small item was in its place. He became concerned when he noticed that some of the figurines had been moved. But nothing was missing; he had seen it. Yes, calmly. Everything was in order.
He reached the table where the most important items stood. The crown of his ancestors—there. The ornate mace—there. The jadeite-carved sacred statuette of a white raven—not there.
- What do you mean: you gave it back?!
The queen's scream echoed throughout the throne room and echoed off the marble walls. Octavia knelt on the carpet before her parents. King Aspasius sat slumped in his seat, his face buried in his hands, his crown slumped forlornly on his bald head. The queen, meanwhile, darted about the room, and the bird perched on her shoulder—an albino raven—screamed ominously, faithfully echoing its mistress.
"What do you mean, 'you gave it back,' I ask?" the queen repeated, stopping before her daughter.
"I gave it back, Queen Mother. I begged him to take it back." Octavia didn't look her mother in the eye; she was afraid. She knew what this woman was capable of. She had been capable of striking her, tearing out her hair, humiliating her in front of her guards and father, stripping her naked and putting her on the balcony as punishment, forcing her to stand in the snow for three days and three nights.
"Who did you give it to, child? Someone from the kingdom, I presume? You were wandering around outside the palace again, right?!" The queen screamed like a madwoman. Octavia trembled slightly with terror. She knew unpleasant consequences awaited her. She couldn't count on relief just because she was the daughter of the royal couple.
"No, Queen Mother, it wasn't anyone from the kingdom," Octavia admitted. "I gave the statuette to a traveling mercenary."
There was a moment of silence, broken by the rattling of an albino.
"So all is lost," King Aspasius said weakly, sinking even further into the throne. "We are lost."
Octavia mustered a bolder gesture. She lifted her head slightly and looked at her father.
"I don't think one less tiny statue in the overflowing treasury will bring any doom to the kingdom, Father," she said politely. "What made it different from the others that you lament its loss so much?"
"Do you really want to know?" the queen hissed, lifting Octavia by the arm, her nails digging painfully into her skin. "It was so precious that your thoughtless and frivolous self won't even be able to understand it."
Octavia swallowed hard. She stared into her mother's furious eyes, which nearly killed her, sending invisible lightning bolts of anger flying around her.
"It was a gift," the princess finally said. "I received it from you, don't you remember? You gave it to me." Her voice grew stronger and trembling. Her eyes stung violently. "You gave it to me for my birthday, back when I was your daughter, loved, admired, cared for a hundred times better than a full treasury...
" "Silence!"
The queen interrupted with a scream, delivering a slap to her daughter's face. Octavia fell to her knees, clutching her face with one hand. But she refused to remain silent.
"And was it otherwise?" she objected loudly, looking at her mother through tears. "Now you treat me like a plebeian, as if I weren't your daughter! I've had enough!"
Complete silence fell in the throne room. King Aspasius raised his head.
"Spare yourself the impertinence, child," said the queen bitterly, now looking like a statue carved in rock. She breathed calmly, though inside she was seething with rage. "And don't change the subject. You have committed an act detrimental to the kingdom, and the worst that can be done. And therefore you will be severely punished.
" "But please, mother, I know nothing!" Octavia defended herself, aware that she might be struck again. "What significance could a jade statuette have for the kingdom?"
The raven on the queen's shoulder squawked shrilly. King Aspasius rose from his throne and took the floor.
"We have spent a sufficient sum," he began slowly, "on your education. And you should know the system of our world, right?" He looked expectantly at his daughter. Octavia nodded wordlessly. "So you probably know that the principality of Usvae, east of Mare, grew in power hundreds of years ago thanks to its deity, a stag. Right?" Octavia nodded again. "And the City of the Phoenix achieved enormous power thanks to the deity of the phoenix, right?" Another nod. "You also know that the country in which you were born, Mare, also has its own deity, a white raven.
" "I am aware of that," the princess said. "But I still don't understand what this has to do with...
" "I'll tell you, young lady," the king interjected. "It was a sacred idol. The very one that allowed one to summon a deity and bring the blessing of the higher gods to our land. An idol of a white raven, an idol of power and authority. And you thoughtlessly gave it to a stranger!" he shouted at the end.
"If anyone acted thoughtlessly," Octavia hissed, "it certainly wasn't me. Who would leave something so valuable in the treasury under a mountain of other objects? It's obvious...
" "Don't you dare address the king that way!" The queen raised her hand again, but refrained from striking. Octavia rose from her knees and looked at her father. The situation truly didn't look good.
"Now anyone can take possession of the statuette," King Aspasius muttered. "And then we can say goodbye to prosperity and power. To the future.
" "Father, I truly didn't realize..." Octavia slumped her shoulders miserably, knowing that any explanation would be useless.
"Take her out," the queen ordered, and two guards immediately approached the princess and grabbed her arms. "You will suffer a very severe punishment for this transgression, child." She looked at King Aspasius, who only looked away.
The guards led Octavia out of the throne room. Before closing the door, the queen said in a loud voice,
"I sentence you to banishment from Menarine on pain of death."
And she left, the albino on her shoulder squawking maliciously.
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