The sight of Nun was immediately unpleasant to Asha as he followed his mother off the boat. Bright lights, disarray in architectural intent, and people dressed in the stupidest of outfits plastered his sight. If the boy had to guess, his mother thought the same, as her blue lips turned down as soon as the city air assaulted them like secondhand smoke.

  They didn’t have to wait long; a silver vehakul about three times the length of a normal one hovered down the ramp after, and the queen waved off some Nun greeters to slip inside her transport. Asha soon followed and, more forcefully than planned, brought the door to shut with a thud. The Nun greeters jumped, possibly thinking it was indicative of something. His mother’s yellow eyes suggested letting the confusion remain, so the young prince did nothing to correct it before they hovered off to the trial.

  “Mother,” the blue prince said once they had turned down a road leading away from the docks. “this is a disgusting town.”

  “You must not say that out of this vehakul, but yes, this city would be better off burning. It is an experiment that has long proven to be a failure.”

  The boy knew he was often considered too young by other members of the castle, and even in his own family, to understand matters such as this. In truth, he was well aware he was much more intelligent than even most of the adults around him, except for his mother. She was a good queen and sharper than anyone, even his late father, so if she said the city was a failure, he didn’t need to question otherwise.

  Not that his first impression led him to think otherwise.

  Asha nodded.

  “Must we really have this trial here, mother? Wouldn’t it have been best to bring the prisoner to Quenth?”

  Queen Whitlock sighed and watched some street performers make buffoons of themselves as they drove past.

  “Yes, and I asked the mayor to arrange her transportation, but he insisted she be given trial in Nun as both a citizen of the city and having been arrested in the city. One thing you must remember with politics, my dear, is that sometimes you have to compromise.”

  “And that’s why we had to come here?”

  “Unfortunately. At the very least, we don’t have to walk those streets….” As the queen spoke, someone breathed a plume of fire into the air. It wasn’t clear whether it was a performance or not, but the people clapped like trained animals all the same. Asha shook his head. His sister had described the city as colorful and unique when she got back. He knew he should have never listened to the likes of her.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “I wouldn’t be caught dead on those streets.” The boy didn’t bother to hide the disgust within his voice. He almost felt as if he would need a mask if he stepped out of the vehakul. If for anything, the smell had to be borderline rancid among all the variety of folk brushing up against each other. “To think father’s murderer would hail from such a filthy place.”

  “I suppose it is fitting in the end; he was the primary one who let Nun get away with so much. I always told him it would be the death of him.”

  Asha couldn’t tell what was on his mother’s mind as she stared out the window at the passing crowd of filth. In one sense, he was sure she still mourned for his late father, yet she spoke with such a matter-of-fact tone that he wondered what sort of prophecy she must have made to him. Either way, he didn’t heed it and now was long buried, never to see anyone ever again. It was up to Asha, the boy was very sure, to carry on the best of what his father had. His other siblings couldn’t be counted on, after all.

  “I heard father was the first to make a peace treaty with the city?”

  “Unfortunately. In his early years, he really thought he could save Resh, but you only ever knew him after all the years of frustration and disappointment finally caught up with him. I loved that man, but he was a fool until the end.” Queen Whitlock turned to Asha and they stared at each other a moment. “There are big changes coming, if you haven’t noticed by all the events happening, then surely you have felt it in the air. Do you know what your place is in all this?”

  His mother seemed colder, more distant as she spoke. It was not as if she merely spoke to him, but also to herself as well, as if she was unsure. Asha could imagine losing King Whitlock would have taken a toll, he wasn’t so heartless himself that he didn’t shed a tear for his father, but at the same time her tone didn’t seem to have anything to do with mourning.

  The only thing the young prince could imagine was that she was more in tune with the coming changes, perhaps informed well enough to have more foresight than anyone else in this world. Asha was sure his mother was clever enough to have sent out spies. He shook his head.

  “I don’t know my place in this, Mother, but I’m confident you will make the right moves. I plan to support the Aqueenian people until the end.”

  Queen Whitlock made a sound that crossed a chuckle with a hum and crossed her arms. She looked back out of the window.

  “Our people have fallen to the same sorts of scum that Nun exports; they will need correction, you understand?”

  “Correction is a type of support, Mother.”

  “Well said, son, very well, we should end this discussion. Our destination is almost upon us.”

  Down the road, the base of a large tower was opening. Some guards pushed a crowd on either side of the door to the sides to allow the Aqueenian Vehakul to enter. Before the doors closed back up, Asha caught sight of a crowd of Beauideal fans screaming and throwing things at them. The fools were so caught up in their love of Dia that they wanted to protest? Asha chuckled; they would have a disappointing day.

  He waited until the driver opened the door for him and moved to his mother’s side. Some Nun officials shrunk at the sight of them. “Come, Asha,” Queen Whitlock chirped, “Let’s get rid of that pest.”

  “Of course, mother,” Asha replied as he followed her deeper within the facility.