For Cas, the rest of the day was spent running around the mansion as he orchestrated the military from afar. The interrogation took a surprising two full hours to complete. He stayed on the line with the guards in the holding cell as they pressured their rebel prisoners to cough up anything they knew about the mastermind behind the Scourge. Even under the influence of Aproveset, the terrorists were difficult to break. They fought against the drug’s painful effects until even the prince could hear their distant screams through his earpiece. The gut-wrenching sound had made him feel ill, and he made up an excuse to sever the line for ten minutes while he composed himself.
Fortunately, the rebels eventually folded under the pressure of the injected solution and answered the interrogators’ questions. They learned that the name of the current Scourge leader was Regis Nox Fleuret and that his base of operations was somewhere in the northeastern district of Aspiria. They also learned that the missing terrorists were two men named Ethan Williams and Thomas Howard. To the disappointment of the soldiers, the prisoners didn’t seem to know much about war strategies though. Nevertheless, the interrogation was deemed as a success because of the useful knowledge they were able to procure, and the rebels were returned to their cell with injections to nullify the lingering effects of the doses of Aproveset they had first received.
After communication was ended between the mansion and the soldiers, Cas had been hoping to fit in at least a half hour of shut-eye. However, he found himself even busier as his private cell phone was inundated with calls from allies and council members of the Maydestone family who demanded updates on the situation. Apparently they had reached out to Atlas first, and the king had redirected them to his heir when he revealed that the crown prince was the one who had actually been heading the recovery from the attack. Cas wished he could just tell them to wait for the public announcement that his father would give before the capital later, but since every person who rang him was counted among the most powerful and influential high borns in the city, he had to explain to each and every one of them that everything was under control and that their assets weren’t at risk because of the Scourge.
The conversations stung. Yesterday, he had been afraid that his only living parent had been killed by terrorists, but all anyone else seemed to care about was their money. As the clock ticked on, he lost track of how many times he had to hear things like: “Are you sure the royal family has contained the threat? My investments will be worthless if your family is removed from power!” or “How do you know those sons of bitches won’t come after my house next? I want proof that your father is doing everything he can to protect us!” By the end of it all, he wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and bury himself underneath the duvet to get away from all the accusations and selfish requests. But that was impossible. Every day, he inched closer to becoming the next king of Aspiria, and once that happened, he would have to put up with the unappealing side effects of power for the rest of his life.
Maybe I can look for a doppelganger who’d like to be king more than I would, he thought wearily as he dragged his feet down the corridor that led to his father’s bedroom. Another three hours had passed, and the time was almost half past three in the afternoon. He’d managed to shovel down a quick lunch and a large mug of coffee in between phone calls, but other than that, he hadn’t been able to address any of his own needs. Operating on just four hours of sleep and skipping breakfast on top of stressing about the attempt on the monarch’s life had taken a noticeable toll. As he lifted his fist to knock on Atlas’s door, he could feel his hand shaking ever so slightly, and he quickly shoved the unsteady limb in his pocket to conceal the tremor from his father.
A few long seconds passed before a servant opened the door from the inside and bowed. “Your Majesty, the prince is here to see you,” he announced, peering back over his shoulder when he righted his posture again.
“Good. Send him in,” Atlas replied. His voice sounded gravelly, as if he had just woken up, and Caspian realized to his dismay that his father had been sleeping while he had been putting out the fires caused by the rebels.
Swallowing his pride, he stepped into the room and approached the bed. For a moment, he said nothing, bothered by the fact that Atlas had let the burden of the terrorists fall on his inexperienced shoulders while he had been slumbering away in the privacy of his own quarters. However, letting reason outweigh his emotions, he guessed that the monarch had been resting because of his recently waning health. He couldn’t blame his father for trying to recover. “The prisoners talked,” he reported mirthlessly. Though he was glad that they had managed to get information out of the two men, he still felt unnerved about the way the soldiers had forced them to open up, and he was also still residually upset about the uncaring words of the high borns he had spoken with over the phone.
“Jacob is composing a formal record of everything they told us for you to review,” he went on. “It should be ready sometime within the next hour. I also spoke with all your council members to assure them that we’ve got the situation under control now. They shouldn’t withdraw their support over the attack.”
Atlas was quiet, thoughtful, as he propped himself upright on the plush mattress. “Are you sure?”
Of course that was all the king would say. Cas deflated slightly, spurned by his father’s lack of approval. “I’m sure,” he muttered. “They’re still not happy that anyone from the rebellion got inside the capital, but I made sure they understood that it won’t happen again and that we’ve got all our best men searching for the two still on the loose.”
“Good,” Atlas sighed. “We need their funding for the war. Is there anything left?”
Cas shifted his weight, “Just one thing… You need to decide what to do with the prisoners.”
“That is already settled,” the king waved his hand dismissively. “They’ll be publicly executed for high treason.”
Caspian nodded wordlessly. It was a harsh punishment, but he couldn’t say that it was undeserved. He just hoped the Scourge didn’t turn the two prisoners into martyrs and rally behind them on the battlefield. “Your address to the capital is scheduled at seven,” he said, intentionally choosing a lighter topic. “That’s in a little over three hours. Will you be ready to go to the center square by then?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Atlas exhaled in obvious frustration. “I don’t have the energy to write a speech nor stand in front of a crowd for that long. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to take my place this time, Caspian.”
“Me?” Cas squawked, wide-eyed. “I’ve never done anything like this before! I don’t know what to say or do.”
“I do hope you aren’t being serious,” Atlas pinched the bridge of his nose. “For god’s sake, you’ve been tutored for years in oratory, Caspian. Have you not retained anything your instructors have taught you?”
“It’s not that…” Cas started and then bit his lip, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I know how, but there’s a big difference between understanding something in my head and actually going out and doing it. I don’t have any experience to fall back on, and this is an address the people have been anticipating since the media leaked the attack this morning. It’s a huge deal.”
“You’re overthinking it,” his father chided. “Just tell them what they want to hear and carry yourself with confidence. That’s all there is to it.”
Easy for you to say, the prince thought bitterly, but he didn’t argue. “I guess so,” he relented quietly.
“Don’t forget that you’re representing the crown,” Atlas narrowed his eyes. “Now get going. You have a speech to prepare.”
“Yes, father…”
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