Benedict opened the door of the servant's quarters. For the fifteen hundredth time, he wondered why he was doing Angelica this favor. What could she possibly find on his brother that would taint his reputation so fiercely that would deny him the throne. And what would his mother's servants have to do with it?

He had gotten the direction of the midwife chambers and he knocked on the door. When one of the midwives opened the door, she almost fainted at the sight of him. "Your Highness!" she whisper-screamed.

Benedict sighed. "That's what they call me." Before she could resume her squealing, he rushed to say, "I have a question for you."

The midwife gulped.

Benedict rolled his eyes. "Do you know of the midwife―I'm afraid I don't know her name―who delivered my brother, Crown Prince Francisco?"

Benedict noticed the fear and suspicion that shone in her eyes. "Do not fear," he assured her quickly. "I mean no harm to you."

"Beggin yer pardon, Your Highness. But why do you wish to know?"

"Why do you hesitate to speak, midwife? Know this: from now on, you shall be officially under the protection of Prince Benedict, Second in Line to the Serpent Throne."

The midwife's eyes widened. "Come in, Your Highness."

Benedict cautiously stepped into the room. "Forgive me, lady, but please hurry in your explanation. I do not have time for charades."

"No charades, milord," the midwife assured. "Over there at that bunk was where Ioana slept. She would be the midwife who delivered the Crown Prince."

Benedict almost rolled his eyes. I don't have time for dramatics.

"After she delivered the prince, she disappeared along with all the other servants who were her friends," the midwife continued.

Benedict raised his eyebrow. "And how do you know this then."

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but new does spread fast 'round 'ere. And rumors can stick."

Why would the queen want her gone? Benedict pondered.

"I'm not sure, Your Highness but. . ."

Benedict realized he must've said his thoughts out loud. "What is it?" he urged the midwife.

He could see that the midwife was uncomfortable. "Please, Your Highness. . ."

Benedict's patience had worn thin. As he spoke, his voice began to rise. "Tell me, woman! You're talking about the Queen of Sersalvon to her son the prince. Please, just tell me!"

The midwife began to tremble in fear. "Forgive me, meh prince! It's just. . . they say it's because they were uncertain."

"Uncertain about what?"

The midwife was terrified now. Though whether it was that she was scared of him or what she was about to say. . . Benedict would find his answer soon enough.

"My prince, some of the midwife's whispered that it was uncertain whether King Gallo was truly the father."

***

When Benedict came back, he told Angelica the name of the midwife―Iona it was―who delivered Francisco and stormed off. Not wasting any time, she set to work.

Prince Francisco had been born in Sixthmonth, during the summer. This meant that Iona was most likely from one of the villages in the territory of Lux Aestius. The Seneschal of Lux Aestius, who kept records of all the palace staff, would most likely know where the midwife was from. She did some research on him and decided to meet with him. Just as she was loading her purse with silver in her room, she heard a knock at the door. Impatiently, she rushed and opened the door with a sour look on her face only to be greeted by the cold calm expression that her mother always wore.

"And where do you think you are going?" the duchess inquired.

Angelica resisted the urge to glance back at her purse and replied, "I'm going to the seneschal."

Her mother's lips tugged at the edges. "To bribe him for what?"

Angelica bit her lip. "I-I. . ."

"Does it concern the queen?"

Angelica did not answer.

"Of course it does. I don't see why you would go to the seneschal for answers, however."

"I―"

"There is no need to tell me, daughter," the duchess interrupted. "I am not one to suppress curiosity. However, I advise caution. You are treading into dangerous waters. Ones that some might consider treason." And then she walked away.

Angelica stood there, stunned and flustered. What just happened? Nonetheless, she finished packing her purse and walked to the lounge hall and entered the nest of writhing snakes.

She noticed her sister in her usual group of gossip ladies but she did not go to join them. Instead, she scanned the room until she found the seneschal who seemed to be enjoying his time. She made a beeline for the man. But just before she was about to reach him, she stopped.

What am I doing? She thought to herself. Was it truly all just for the sake of curiosity?

No. . . it wasn't. What she was about to find out. . . the fate of the kingdom would depend on it. If her hunch proved correct, then the entire Kingdom of Sersalvon would rock on its heels and fall to its news. She knew the risks she was taking, the implications of what her possible discovery would have. She knew the danger. . .

And she loved it.

So she set out again, even more determined than before.

"Seneschal Victor," she said as she reached him. She put on the stone-cold face her mother always wore.

The seneschal bowed hastily. "Lady Angelica," he said in greeting. "What is it you wish of me, my lady?"

"May we speak in private?"

"Of course."

Angelica lead the seneschal a little ways away from the crowded lounge hall. Once they were alone, the seneschal said, "Be cautious, my lady. The nobles will talk."

"They'll always talk," Angelica retorted. "Nonetheless, I have a question for you."

"And I may have an answer," the seneschal replied with a smile.

However, there was no smile on Angelica's face as she said, "Do you know of Iona Dumitrescu? She was a midwife here at Lux Aestius. She disappeared shortly after the birth of Prince Francisco. I want to know where her family lived."

The seneschal stiffened. "My lady―" He stopped as he heard the clink of coins in Angelica's purse. His gaze drifted to the source of the metallic noise.

Angelica took a deep breath. She had the seneschal in her grip now. "Where did she live?"

However, the seneschal seemed to gather his last reserves of resolves. "I'm afraid I do not even remember who she is, my lady. There are so many servants in this palace that they're faces all seem to blur together."

"Seneschal Victor. You have a wife and two children who live in Montsant, only a twenty minute walk from Lux Aestius."

The seneschal's face paled and Angelica felt sick. "My lady. . . are you―"

"Calm down, seneschal. What I'm saying is I have fifty mercantii in my purse right now and I'm sure your wife would not complain to have an extra fifty mercantii in your coffers. All you have to do is tell about Iona Dumitrescu." There.

The seneschal took a deep breath. "Iona's family is of Valencian descent. They fled the Valencian archipelago to escape the constant warfare there. They settled in Montsant and Iona found work in Lux Aestius. Her family still lives Monsant but Iona is gone. She has disappeared completely. I-I don't know why. She's probably dead."

"Thank you for your time, seneschal," Angelica said, ignoring his last statement. "And for your cooperation." She dumped the fifty silver mercantii into his palms and walked away.

Her hands were trembling as she calmly strode back to the lounge. She had just subtly threatened the family of an innocent man. She was just like. . . her mother. She had thought that putting on that stone-cold face would be putting on a mask but. . . it almost felt like tearing one off and revealing her true features. Maybe this cold, cruel, political scheming was just in her blood.

Then she looked at Myeria, still gossiping, and wondered how it had skipped her.

***

Benedict was back in the dream world. Usually, he would've plopped directly into a fabricated situation by Mikkael, but this time all he saw was rolling hills and grasslands for miles on miles.

He felt an otherworldly presence behind him. "Is it true? Is my brother a bastard?"

Silence for some time. Then, Mikkael answered: "Yes."

Benedict slowly turned to face the Warrior Angel. "That means I'm. . . I'm. . ." He fell to his knees, shaking. "I'm the true heir to the throne."

The Warrior Angel nodded his stoic and heavenly face.

Benedict felt his face twist in anguish. "So is that why all of this is happening? So you can put me upon the Serpent Throne? But why? What would an angel of God want to do in the affairs of men?"

A mistake. Mikkael's flawless face twisted in rage. "Do not presume to know me or my intentions, mortal! The thrones and crowns of men are of no matter to me!"

Benedict cowered in fear at the Warrior Angel's heavenly fury. "Forgive, Lord Angel! But please. . . I need to know why."

"There are forces at work that you cannot understand, Pious Prince," was all Mikkael said.

And then, the dream world began to shake. Benedict saw the beautiful green grass that stretched forever begin to wilt and die. Far to the east, the grass began to turn a sickly shade of black. It rushed towards Benedict and Mikkael, like a looming shadow leaving nothing green in its wake. On Mikkael's face, Benedict thought he saw something he would never in his life had expected to see on the face of an angel: fear.

The Warrior Angel summoned a halberd and faced east, looking at the sky. Benedict followed his gaze and saw the faint shape of black-winged creatures in the sky.

"God save us," the Warrior Angel breathed. "They've come." The Angel of War raised his hand and blasted the creatures with heavenly power. The screams of the winged devils pierced the air, forcing Benedict to cover his ears.

Once the screams stopped, he slowly uncovered his ears and looked at Mikkael with terror shining bright in his eye. "What were those?" he whispered.

"Harpies," the angel answered. "Servants to the Evrúopean gods."

Evrúopean gods?

"I told you, Benedict," Mikkael continued. "There are forces at play that you do not understand! I am preparing you for the storm, but our time has been cut short. Go now, and I shall send you a guardian to guide you through your troubled times. It may be some time before we meet again." The Warrior Angel placed his hand on Benedict's chest, and just like that, he was awake in his bed.

When the sunlight first streamed through the window, Benedict managed to drag himself out of bed. Once he put on his doublet and a red cape, he went outside to head to the dining hall for breakfast. However, as soon as he stepped out, he noticed how the halls were crowded with panicked nobles and servants alike. People were shouting and whispering at the same time; they were running up and down the halls without any sense of purpose or direction. It was like watching a bunch of frenzied bees. Benedict saw Myeria, Angelica's sister, and tapped her shoulder. The young lady turned around in surprise, but there her face wore an expression of fear.

"What's happening?" he asked her.

Myeria fanned her face with gloved hands. "Oh, my prince! There has been a murder!"

Benedict felt his heart tightening in his chest. "Who died?"

"It was Seneschal Victor, my prince. They killed the poor seneschal!"