Elements of Glory: The Princess of Nothing

’You will be magnificent, Emily. One day, you will be magnificent… no longer a Princess of Nothing…’

-Wilth, the Guardian of Emily Weral, in a quiet moment of weakness, two cycles ago, on the anniversary of the fall of the Weral Kingdom

THE WERAL KINGDOM

Some said that the castle had once been full of people, of royal subjects, men-at-arms, and a King and Queen. They said there was song and dance, and parties that were known far and wide. Some very brave types said they could still hear the music, late at night, coming from the hill in the forest by the lake, where the lonely, white, castle stood.

Emily couldn’t hear the music or the laughter. She’d lived in the castle all of her life, with only one other person, and in all of her life, she never heard the music or the laughter… she just heard silence.

The only music she ever did hear, was of her own making – silly songs like:

Tick tock, tick tock,

Low wuz shi faather!

No na wanna ye,

Sissy urka greea!

Ee had a block!

It was a silly thing that she’d read in a book – she did so love to read – and she’d loved the song since she was a small child. She sang it, and others like; Hummy, Dummy, Doo-dah, Boat on Water, and Rainy Day – which she’d come up with herself – only when she was alone, or at least thought she was. It was quite a sad thing that when Emily did make music, or did laugh – the kind that comes from your belly all the way up – or told lovely stories to herself, or read from the best books in the library, she made sure she was in the farthest corners of the castle, far, far away from her guardian.

He had been good to her, all of her life. That is, he hadn’t beat her, and he’d taught her art, music, reading, maths, Gemgic, and how to defend herself with many different weapons. But he didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. He didn’t like music. He taught music to Emily, but only the notes on paper… she didn’t hear it... unless she made it.

The guardian didn’t get very angry when Emily would sing or dance on her own, but, if he ever saw her doing these things, such a sadness would shadow his face it would haunt Emily for days and days. Emily didn’t know much about her guardian, apart from the fact that he called himself Wilth. He was not a normal man – that is to say he wasn’t a Human like her – but of some other race from lands far, far away from Emily’s Kingdom.

Yes, she had a Kingdom! It wasn’t a large Kingdom, but it was said that it had once been a great Kingdom. Once, long ago – twenty-two cycles ago – when Emily had been just a baby. Some said there had been a party that night, with singing and dancing… the last time there was a party in the castle, a celebration of Emily’s birth.

Since that night, there were only two in Emily’s Kingdom, only her and her guardian. Wilth wouldn’t tell Emily what had happened that night, or where all the people had gone. All he told her was that it had been a dark and stormy night, and after that the world had changed.

Emily often wondered what a world with people in it would be like. She knew that some of the neighbouring Kingdoms had people and cities. Travellers even crossed through Emily’s Kingdom, but they didn’t stay long. No one ever stayed long… Emily’s guardian had told her that no one but a fool stayed over night in Emily’s woods.

He didn’t tell her why though.

Part of Emily felt it didn’t matter either. How could anything grim matter on a day like this? For today it was raining, and Emily loved the rain.

She loved the way it fell from the sky like little diamonds of water. She loved how the clouds turned grey and black, and how they twisted and turned in the sky. She loved to walk in the rain, to play in the rain, and to splash in the puddles.

She loved it all… but Wilth didn’t like her going out very much, and most of all, he didn’t like her going out in the rain. So today – as she did most days that it rained – Emily sat in the ledge of a tall arched window, at the end of a long and stately hallway. She watched the water falling down onto a stony grey courtyard. It had roofed walkways with stone arches all along each side, and a fountain in the middle. A twisted tree growing at the far end was beside an archway that led out into a wider walkway, running horizontal to a long wooden bridge that spanned a green, treed, gorge. Beyond the gorge were hills and forest, and a distant pond that was tiny compared to the huge lake that Emily’s castle loomed over.

From Emily’s vantage, over one of the back courtyards of her castle, she couldn’t really see the broader expanse of the lake. She liked to watch the lake when it rained. She liked how the water met in countless splashes across the angry surface, as the winds kicked up.

But today she’d decided to sit here and watch, for she liked how the rain fell into the trees, and how it shifted with the wind. Despite all that she liked about the rain, if someone had, by chance or accident, wandered into her castle and happened upon her sitting there, they might think she was truly sad, for she wasn’t smiling. She was just sitting, a look of longing on her pretty face, one finger tracing droplets of rain as they ran down the outside of the cool glass. Some of her dark blonde hair was hanging in her face, and her brown eyes were the equal centres of her longing.

That same person, Emily imagined – who quite by accident might have stumbled across her – might also not immediately think her to be the Princess of this castle, or these beautiful rainy lands, for Emily was dressed in a worn blue and white dress, more suited for a peasant girl than a Princess. Emily knew there were many beautiful gowns in the castle that she could wear, but Wilth told her there was no need.

He told her there was no one but Emily and himself to see them, and so her simple dresses should suit her fine.

Emily had to admit that he made a lot of sense.

Wilth always made a lot of sense.

Still, Emily longed to wear one of those beautiful gowns, almost as much as she longed to run out in the rain.

A perfectly mischievous thought entered her head as she imagined herself playing in the rain in one of the beautiful gowns. Emily banished the thought as quickly as it had come, knowing how sad Wilth would befall if she followed her imaginations through.

A chill ran up and down Emily’s back. She slowly turned away from her window and looked up the hallway, toward a grey-skinned man. He was bald and wore black, red, and gold robes, which were more elegant than Emily’s dress by far. The man’s eyes were haunting black. He had a dark moustache and goatee. His grey hands were clawed. In one hand he had a tall obsidian staff, with a crystal ball on top – held in what looked like the claws of some deadly bird of prey.

‘The rain will last several days,’ Wilth said in his deep voice. It had always reminded Emily a little of thunder. ’I trust you’ll follow my wishes and stay inside.’

’I know you don’t like me to play in the rain,’ Emily responded, turning and looking back out the window.

‘Have I not watched out for your best interests all these cycles?’ Wilth asked, slowly walking toward Emily, his footsteps, as always, quieter than a mist. He stopped beside Emily, reached out with one of his clawed hands, and pulled gently at her hair. ’Your trust in me has preserved you… you must continue to trust me.’

‘I do,’ Emily promised, and it wasn’t a lie. She didn’t understand all of Wilth’s rules, but she trusted that he knew best.

He was the closest thing she’d ever had to a parent.

A deep, aching, pain burned in Emily’s heart. She’d never known her Mother and Father, and only knew that most people had Mothers and Fathers because of the things Wilth had taught her over the cycles. Emily had studied about families, and hungrily ate up every piece of literature on the subject. She read about what they did together. She read about the laughter and the music and the dance.

She noticed Wilth was looking at her, and his face had taken on that haunting sadness that Emily so disliked.

‘You’re thinking about families again aren’t you… thinking about your parents?’ Wilth asked forlornly.

’Only a little bit,’ Emily replied, hoping it would be enough to make Wilth happier.

Wilth sighed and turned from Emily. ‘You lost so much… back when the world changed.’

’Will you ever tell me what happened that night, at the celebration for my birth? Will you ever tell me what happened to my parents and all the people of the Kingdom… Will you ever tell me why I have to be so alone?’ Emily rarely spoke out of turn, but sometimes, when it was raining, and when she was feeling especially sad – as she was now – she became bold.

Wilth looked at Emily in surprise, cocking a narrow, black, eyebrow.

Emily looked out at the rain, averting her eyes from his, her courage crumbling. ‘I was just wondering,’ the woman whispered, like a child.

The hallway was silent for a long time, the only noise being that of the rain on the window. Emily started, absently tracing the rain drops with her slender index finger, trying to ignore Wilth’s eyes.

‘When you’re older,’ the man finally said in a tired whisper.

‘I’m twenty-two!’ Emily retorted, feeling one last stab of boldness.

’I’m three hundred,’ Wilth countered, ’you are still very young, my dear Emily.’

Emily nodded. ‘Yes, Wilth,’ she whispered in resignation.

They were silent again.

‘I’m going into the forest, on another journey,’ Wilth said after a moment.

’Another one?’ Emily asked in dismay. ‘You go so often I-’

Wilth’s stern look cut her short.

‘Yes, Wilth,’ she said softly, looking away again.

‘I’ll be back tomorrow night,’ the grey-skinned man went on. ‘Remain in the castle and be safe. There is food in the kitchen, enough for you while I’m gone.’

‘Yes, Wilth,’ Emily said again. He often went out into the forest. Emily knew the drill, he didn’t need to explain it to her again, but he did.

He always did.

‘Be safe, my child,’ Wilth said at the end, as he always did.

‘You too,’ Emily told her guardian, looking at him. She meant it. She really didn’t know what she’d do without him.

Wilth nodded, turned, and walked down the hallway, silently, as if he were floating on thin air. Emily watched him go until she could no longer see him. Then she turned back to the rain. She continued to watch it fall, separated only by the thin glass, wishing – with all of her heart – that she could step into it.

But she didn’t. She trusted Wilth.