Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Chapter 150: Ch. 149: Nursery Rhymes

“Let’s cut to the chase. What do you want? Do you want to renegotiate terms for the orphanage or for our... agreement?” I ask him, annoyed at the way he had me frightened for a second.

He’s so close to me I can see the sweat on his nose. But it doesn’t last long as Emma shoves him out of my space with a curt, “Move, you weasel.”

“Good day to you too, cousin,” Jack greets Emma with a tilt of his imaginary hat.

My closest accomplice lets out a loud breath from her nose. “I told you not to call me that.”

“My apologies, cousin,” Jack says without missing a beat.

He turns back to face me with a cocky smirk, no doubt for managing to sneak into the palace. It’s like he took special classes on how to piss people off in the fewest words possible. An absentminded glance gives me yet another reason to be angry with Jack.

This bold chap has just stolen two rings right off my hand.

.....

“Give them back!”

“Give what back?” he asks, playing clueless.

I lean back in my garden chair, unamused. “Do you know that a single shout from me will summon every guard in the vicinity?” I warn him.

Jack shrugs. “It was easy enough to get into the palace, even with their presence.”

That is the part that perplexes me. “That’s right. How did you get into the palace?” I ask, leaning forward despite myself.

Following the assassination attempt, security at the imperial palace has been at an all-time high. It seems preposterous to me that a common street thief would be able to surmount both physical and magical defenses to make his way right where I am.

“Don’t you know, your highness? A knight doesn’t kiss and tell.” He gives me a knowing look, alluding to the kiss on the back of my hand. This kid is about 12 years old, he ought to put off flirting for a few years at this age.

“Too bad I only see a gardener before me,” I retort, rolling my eyes. “Now get on with your message before I really do get you kicked out. Emma always gets a bonus when she takes out the trash for me.”

All of sudden, Emma seems a lot perkier from where she stands by my side. I see her hands dance over the hidden pocket where she stashes her dagger. Clever Jack must’ve seen it too because he drops the nonsense act and gets straight to business.

“Have you ever heard the rhyme, ‘Just as night cowers to the light of day, the true ruler shall have his way?’?” Jack asks. His face is so serious it looks like a mask, the shade from the umbrella cutting across his face to make his knife-like nose even sharper.

“N-No? Did this warrant you coming to the palace?” I ask.

“It’s all the buzz in West Bend. Children sing it as they play in the streets. Factory workers sing the tune during their lunch break, the ones that get lunch breaks anyways.”

I sit up straight. “It’s that popular?” The way that my father took the throne isn’t common knowledge to the entire population, considering how the imperial palace only officially stated that Crown Prince Wilhelm had unfortunately passed away and was being replaced by Emperor Helio.

“Do people truly... dislike my father?” I inquire hesitantly. In the web, my father was beloved by the people and never implemented harsh policies on the people. That’s the great irony of webs with historical settings. The ruler can be a terrible, cruel, cold person, but as long as he’s hot the readers will only draw the line at him or her mistreating the common people.

“No more than the last one. Emperors come and go, they don’t really make a difference in our lives.” The last sentence sounds bitter, but Jack grins up at me. “That’s why the new orphanage is incredibly helpful.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I say sincerely, the lump in my throat shrinking in size. Sometimes, despite my impoverished past, it’s easy to forget that the system of nobility is one that sits on the shoulders of commoners.

“This song was planted. It’s not the typical, ahem, tune that those of us who reside on the western side of Radovalsk tend to sing,”

“Oh? What kind of songs do you sing?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Don’t you da-” Emma begins to say.

“A busty maiden to my left and another to my right. Should I die in their bosoms it would be alright!” Jack proudly sings.

“Oh.” No matter the world, no matter the century, men truly don’t change.

Jack clears his throat in embarrassment. “Anyways, I came to report to you because I believe that this rhyme came from the same people who attacked the emperor- and yourself, your highness.”

I rub at the bandage. “Now that is something truly interesting.” Jack perks up like a dog that just got petted for doing a fancy trick.

“Shall I investigate more?” he asks intently.

“No. That should be quite enough. It’s not safe for you lot,” I reply, speaking of him and the other children at the orphanage who discreetly gather and spread street intel.

But Jack is stubborn and young and full of that youthful fire. His fist pounds the DIVORCE book with determination and the abandoned pastries on my plate jump in fright. “If myself and a small group of a trusted few-”

“I said no,” I reiterate sternly. “Do you think my enemies don’t know your purpose and why you exist? You simply haven’t been taken care of because you don’t warrant a large enough threat. But make no mistake. The minute you become a problem, you will be taken care of discreetly and quickly.”

“Fear not your highness, I’ve long taken note of those with hidden intentions at the orphanage,” Jack murmurs darkly. “Any intelligence they gather is fraught with misinformation and half-truths.”

“That is good to hear. But regardless, I cannot condone you looking further into this. Nothing good lies at the end, of that I’m certain,” I sigh. “If a few street urchins disappear off the street, do you know what they’ll say? Good riddance. But I would be crushed. Emma would be crushed. And everything you’ve worked for will amount to nothing.”

Everyone is quiet for a few, long moments. Jack’s frustration fills the air, as thick as the scent of roses I never seem to escape. I can feel my heartbeat start racing in my chest as an idea suddenly comes to me.

“You can read,” I state, breaking the uncomfortable silence. No one likes to be confronted with the fact that no one will care if they were to die tomorrow. And in this world with rigid class structures and royalty, I’d imagine that feeling is doubly so.

“And write. How do you think you receive your secret letters from the couturier?” he not-so-humbly adds.

“Your highness,” Emma adds with a cross murmur. She always loses her temper with him. Distant cousins, she said? I don’t believe that for a moment. But I don’t pry and neither does she.

“Your highness,” Jack parrots sullenly. The untrained eye would mistake him as any ordinary child. But traveling with him to the warfront and working with him as a business partner has taught me otherwise. Quite frankly, Clever Jack is really clever.

“Clever Jack,” I say in a sly manner that has Emma giving me a side-eye immediately. I rarely call him ‘Clever’ voluntarily. “You’re smarter than I ever was at your age.”

“I do believe I’m older than you, your highness. But thank you,” Jack is quick to correct, although he soaks up the praise like a sponge.

“And you possess an incomparable amount of street sense and wisdom beyond your years. I wager you’d run circles around just about any other lad in the whole capital,” I carry on generously. I really do believe he could, except for Elias maybe.

True to his name, Clever Jack catches on to something fishy going on.

He takes a few steps backward. “Why are you looking at me like a fat broodmare you want to buy from the market?”

“Am I?” I ask Emma. She readily nods, but upon seeing my expression of betrayal she shakes her head.

“Don’t be silly, Jack,” she scolds.

“Yes, don’t be silly,” I echo with a smirk of my own. “I don’t want to buy anything from you. In fact, I wish to give you a gift, on top of my rings, to show you my appreciation.”

“A gift? I do love those,” Jack says. A hint of wariness still lingers on his tone, which is expected. You don’t survive in the streets by believing that the strange man who claims to have candy in his house is telling the truth.

“We both know how important one’s identity is to their power. You can and probably will rise to the top ranks of West Bend within a few short years. People will whisper your name even when it’s bright out and seek you out in the dark for a boon only you can grant.”

I lean back comfortably in my chair, knowing that I hold a useful card under my sleeve. Jack’s wariness slowly becomes overtaken by a common foe that lures even the steadiest of souls, curiosity.

“That is the goal, your highness,” he says in the most respectful tone I’ve heard all day.

“It’s a good goal, but it’s only effective in the alleys, crevices, and gutters of Radovalsk. Most law-abiding commonfolk will never know your name. The nobility will scoff at it unless they require you to do some sinister bidding on their behalf. You may find yourself becoming someone’s lapdog or pawn before long,” I continue.

With every word, Clever Jack’s expression grows darker and darker.

“Am I not a loyal lapdog to you right now?” he bites out. A dark ferocity sets his eyes ablaze, although he does a good job at controlling the rest of his face.

Emma lightly frowns as well, but says nothing. Sometimes I wish she didn’t care about Jack so much. But I know that is just the selfish side of me speaking.

“The best! But I want you to be more. I want you to become a dog whose bite they fear throughout Radovalsk. I want you to be someone who matters to this city. Someone who, Helio forbid, if you passed away tomorrow, the entire city would mourn your loss.”

Social mobility is hard. However, since the beginning of time, there has always been one tried and true ladder to the top. For men, anyways.

“The Imperial College,” Jack says, catching on in seconds that I’m referring to a good education.

“I always knew you were clever,” I chuckle.

You see, the Imperial College is not merely a ‘good’ education. A ‘good’ education would be the state college that I was about to graduate from with honors and a future job.

The Imperial College is Oxford, Harvard, and MIT rolled into one fancy institution that trains the next generation of people who will one day run the government and empire. And despite its misleading name, it takes in students from the age of 12 and spits them out at 20. After the school lets in its annual nepotism babies (Augustus is smart but definitely not smart enough to get in), it has a famously difficult exam with a 1% acceptance rate.

If one manages not only to graduate from the Imperial College, but as a top student called an Imperial Scholar, the world becomes your oyster. I know it. Emma knows it. Jack knows it too.

The blooming excitement on his face is heartening to watch, it takes me back to my past life where I worked my butt off at school because I knew that was the only way to get myself and my mother a better life. Unfortunately, I’ve got yet another task at hand.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get permission to escape this palace you were so eager to break into,” I sarcastically tell the boy with a crazy, wide grin on his face. His bunching cheeks that still carry some childhood fat remind me how young he is, how young we all are.

Despite, the casual confidence behind my words, I have no idea how I’m going to convince my father to let me leave the palace for something that isn’t related to an official royal family event like Blessing Day or an appointment with for Holy Church.

“If I get in, I won’t let you down, your highness! You can count on me!” Jack promises from where he kneels with gratitude. His faith in me is endearing as I still have yet to think of how I’m going to get him into the most prestigious institution in the entire empire.

“I know,” I reply under my breath so he can’t hear. Because in my moment of need and weakness years ago, he did indeed get me to the warfront in one piece.