Finally, the last noble took his seat and King Richard got out of his seat to start the festivities. “Waiters!” he barked at the servants standing in the back without even looking at them. “Change of plans. Bring out the finest wine we have! Nothing but the best for my son’s birthday!” He looked at his son and smiled, then sat back down.
Of course, Christopher knew that had been the plan all along – his father had used the same act last year – but the nobles probably didn’t, and the act was really for them. So he was thoroughly unimpressed.
While he sat there fuming, the waiters and waitresses rushed down into the wine cellars to grab several bottles of their finest wine. A few of them brought up an entire rack, figuring on a night like this there would be many calls for refills.
He spared a glance at the wine bottles. The brew being served was nothing less than Kane’s Fortune, the only beverage of its kind to be magically enhanced to erase all feelings of drunkenness after the fact. It was truly a wondrous drink. Of course, he’d never really liked the stuff, but his father didn’t seem to notice.
The remaining servants scurried about from place to place, passing out fine crystal goblets, being careful not to drop any of them. They scurried about in well-practiced patterns, filling the goblets one at a time, starting with the king and prince. There were many servants there that night, so the task was completed in but a few minutes.
Christopher glanced at his father when the feat neared completion. Richard was grinning like an idiot, likely happy that not a drop of the extremely expensive, seven hundred bleedar a bottle wine had been spilled during the whole process.
Richard made a quick motion with one hand to tell the servants to clear the room and fetch the first course, then stood up again to address the room.
“I would like to propose a toast,” he said to the congregation, “to the growth of our fine nation as a whole, and to my son Christopher’s birthday! Today, Christopher is fourteen, and old enough to take the throne. May he do so in about thirty years!”
The nobles all chuckled at the last part of the king’s toast and stood up with raised glasses to join in. “Here, here!” they cried out as one, clanging their glasses together in salute to Christopher and taking long drinks.
Christopher had been silent all this time, and had not touched his goblet. He fingered it a little as he watched Adam and Talon drain theirs, but refused to drink his own.
“Come now, son, put the past behind you and take a drink!” his father insisted. He shook his head. “Please, son, this is a party in your honor. People came great distances to celebrate you.”
This seemed to placate Christopher a little and he moved as if to take a drink from his goblet but put it back down without tasting a sip. The wine smelled foul to him and he wanted no part of it. Still, it was enough to convince his father he’d partaken, so the man’s features relaxed.
Richard sat down then and raised his own goblet to his lips. At the same moment, a grim thought pierced Christopher’s mind and he knew something was wrong, but not what.
It didn’t take long to get the answer.
He watched in horror as his father drained the goblet, then fell more than sat into his chair. His eyes were glazed over and he wasn’t breathing. The goblet fell out of his hands and rolled onto the ground as Christopher came to the realization that his father was dead.
“Father?” he asked, tears streaming down his cheeks. There was no response. “Father? What’s wrong, Father?” Deep down he knew, but wasn’t ready to accept it.
“My liege, what is wrong?” Talon asked suddenly. “Please, say something.”
“King Richard? My liege? What has happened? Why will you not reply? Why do you look so grim and pale?” Adam asked before he, too came to the realization that King Richard had died. “Christopher, I’m sorry, but your father is-” he never go to finish.
“Father! Father!! FATHER!!” Christopher cried out in agony, ignoring everyone else as he finally accepted the truth. Slowly, he put his head on his father’s chest. Seeing this, some of the nobles turned to leave.
“Christopher, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, especially today, especially now, but I’m afraid your father is dead,” Talon told him as sympathetically as possible. “I’m sorry.”
“Go away!” Christopher screamed, both at the nobles and his servants, as he placed his head on his father’s chest, tears in his eyes. The nobles who hadn’t already taken the hint scurried out of the grand ballroom, and soon it was just Adam and Talon who were still there with him.
The prince buried his head in his father’s chest once more as he wailed in agony.
* * * * * * * * * *
Christopher woke a few hours later to the sound of his father’s voice calling out to him. “What’s wrong, son?” King Richard asked as he gently shook him awake. “I heard you screaming for me and I came at once to see what was wrong.”
The prince pried open his eyes and stared up at his father in disbelief. Slowly, he lifted his hand and placed it on his father’s face to reassure himself that it wasn’t a dream. “Father, you’re still alive!” he shouted. He jumped up in his bed and gave his father a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so happy to see you!”
“Of course I’m alive, Christopher. Why wouldn’t I be?” the king asked as his son continued
