Manipulate

What? November is done already? NaNoWriMo is finished? Oh, wait. I finished on the thirteenth. And I literally mean that. Aeterna’s Heir was finished on November 13, 2012. But I’ll ramble on about that later. Right now, I hear demands for the story. Onward we go!
***********
Lord Nickolas Ta’lurd watched from his family’s private box in the Court to watch Prince Martin give his speech. He had to ruefully admit that the prince was more than good at public speaking. The audience easily moved to his words, caught on to his sincerity and powerful sense of loyalty to his nation. Nick knew that challenging the prince to a public debate about anything would be rather painful to him. The prince could easily talk circles around him.

It really didn’t make any sense.

Nick was one of the few who didn’t rise and applaud once the prince was done giving his speech. It really didn’t make sense. Prince Martin was a known Ghost, a military man. In his experience, Nick knew very few military men with great debate skills. Oh, they could give a pretty speech, they had to if they wanted to motivate their men to go into battle. But when it came to actual debate, most of them really couldn’t hold to their own.

So how did Martin manage it?

“An interesting fellow, isn’t he?”

Nick glanced over his shoulder. “You’re late.”

Ann Normal shrugged. It was positively indecent of her to wear trousers, but he knew nothing he said would dissuade the reporter from her pick of clothes. “Can’t be helped,” she said, sitting down next to him. He frowned. He did not give her permission to sit. “The guards thought I was in here for a story. I somehow got the impression that I’m not wanted.”

Nick snorted, turning his gaze back to the court. With the prince’s speech done, it was business as usual. The prince had sat down next to the queen, his sister beside him. They smiled at him, the queen saying something to him.

“Prince Martin doesn’t like you?” he guessed, switching his gaze back to the redhead reporter.

“He thinks I’m nosy,” Ann sighed. “But I guess he’s right on that.”

“You are a nosy reporter,” he agreed. “But that is why I agreed to work with you. I want the throne and you want a story. Our goals both involve prying into our prince’s rather vague past.”

Ann smirked. “I don’t think that you can blackmail him. Or prove to this Court that he’s unfit for the throne. If you didn’t notice, most people love him.”

“Everyone has a dirty secret,” Nick growled. “Some of them dirty enough to destroy even an image like our prince’s.”

“I still don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for,” Ann yawned. “But you are helping me pursue him, so I’ll keep my opinions to myself.”

Nick rolled his eyes. Like a reporter could keep their opinions to themselves. “Did you get a hold of his official records?”

Ann scowled, her lax posture turning stiff. “Lady Sona is probably a harder shell than our prince. She’s not giving up the records. And I can’t lock pick into her office because of the guards and magic protecting the library. The queen was very wise in picking that place to be her office.”

Nick frowned. “Lady Sona?” he asked.

“A pretty little researcher,” Ann nearly spat. “I caught them alone in his office yesterday with the records. They weren’t doing anything but I tried to blackmail her with that and it didn’t faze her. And I asked around the palace staff. Sona is known to be cold towards men. I’m afraid that any rumors I start that she’s Prince Martin’s lover is going to fall on deaf ears.”

“I’m hearing excuses about why you haven’t made any progress,” Nick snapped. “Anything useful?”

Ann glared down at the prince. “That man is a mystery in the open. I don’t know how he manages it.”

“Have you tried following him?” Nick suggested.

Ann leveled him a flat stare. “I spent nearly a week following him when he was a Ghost Captain. He’s one of the hardest people to track and pin down.”

“He’s a prince now,” Nick snorted. “Sneaking away is not really an option for him.”

“Really?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “You think I haven’t tried?”

Nick frowned. What was that supposed to mean? “We’ll follow him after the session is over,” he said, turning his attention back to the Court. “I’ll show you how easy it is.”

“Sure you will.”

Like any reporter, Ann spent the rest of the session jotting notes down in a small notebook. He once caught a glimpse of her cramped notes and wasn’t able to make heads or tails of it. She wrote in short hand and he was sure that even the best descriptor in Aeterna couldn’t unravel its mysteries. It made him feel a bit uneasy. She could have easily been writing a story on him and he wouldn’t know it. He made a mental note find something blackmailing about the woman to keep her from writing any embarrassing stories about him.

It seemed to take forever for the Speaker to announce lunch. As usual, Queen Abigail and Princess Sara disappeared to eat a quiet lunch in their office. Prince Martin, however, had taken to eating outside the Court. The move was political, Nick was sure. Prince Martin was only trying to seem approachable for the people.

Without saying a word, Nick rose and left the box, Ann following closely behind. It wasn’t hard to catch up with the prince. He had gone down to the stables and was waiting for his carriage to arrive. Nick didn’t bother ordering his own. The Santers’ carriage would move slowly through the streets as people tried to catch a glimpse of the prince while the guards kept the people at bay. It was faster to follow the prince by foot than by carriage.

The carriage arrived and Prince Martin stepped inside. A force of eight mounted guards surrounded the carriage before it left the stables. As Nick knew, the moment the carriage cleared the House of the People, the commoners surrounded it, trying to see their prince. Nick couldn’t suppress a snort. Prince Martin wasn’t much to look at.

He and Ann weaved through the crowd, easily keeping up with the carriage. Nick wasn’t very generous as he brushed people aside. One young man with red hair and glasses actually got pushed to the ground.

“Hey!” the red head said adjusting the glasses on his face. “Watch where ya’re goin’!”

Nick didn’t even bother to spare a glance down at the boy and pressed on. Ann was on his heels, muttering apologies as she went. While he could get away with such rude behavior, she couldn’t.

Surprisingly, the carriage went back to the palace instead of some peasant restaurant. Nick had to use his title to get through the gates to continue following the carriage. He was able to see a footboy open the carriage door. His jaw dropped.

No one was inside.

The guards and servants all looked baffled, though few seemed worried. If anything, the guards looked more annoyed than worried.

Ann caught up with him, noting instantly what was happening. She snorted softly.

“As I said,” she huffed. “The hardest person to track and pin down. He’s a mystery in the open.”
**********
Dean laughed at a joke his sister said when the door to his shop opened again. It was a busy lunch hour, as usual, and business was going great. His grin didn’t fade to see who had just entered his shop.

“And our triumphant hero returns!” Mott boomed, laughing. He quickly joined the prince at the door, closing it. “Now,” he said, addressing the other customers with mock seriousness. “I know you all know who this man is. However, in this shop, I won’t stand for it if you call him by anything but his name. He’s human too and deserves to be treated as such.”

“We know that, Dean,” Devin McNair laughed from his usual seat in the corner where he and his friends always sat. “Let the poor boy off his feet already! He’s had a big day!”

“That’s right,” Dean said, remembering. “How was your speech, Martin?”

The prince let out a dramatic sigh. “I hate public speaking.”

The shop burst out in laughter.

“Better get used to it, sonny,” Devin chuckled. “It’s your livelihood now!”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

That got another round of laughter.

“Go sit down,” Dean told the prince. “We’ll have your usual out to you in a minute.”

Martin smiled and joined Devin and his assembly. It wasn’t a surprise to Dean that the prince found his way to Devin’s group. They were all retired military men and it seemed that Martin was more comfortable around them. At least, that was the impression the baker got from the laughter always coming from that direction.

“One surprise,” Dean started to say to his sister when she put a plate down in front of him.

“I know our guests,” Tara smirked. “And I know what they like.”

Dean chuckled and took the plate. Prince Martin liked to try different things. He never had the same platter twice. He always just let them pick what they think he should try. There had yet to be something that he didn’t like.

He brought the plate over to the table, noting that the retired men were teasing the young prince. Martin took it all with a smile. Dean wondered if anything upset the prince.

“Tell us, lad,” Devin asked, leaning over the table, as if to hear a juicy secret. “Has your mysterious lady agreed to marry ya yet?”

Martin sighed again, though not as dramatically. “She’s being stubborn. But she has agreed to give me a chance to convince her that she could be a queen.”

“Bring her here,” Jared Holf said, swaying a bit with drink already. “We’ll have a nice chat with her to convince her that you’re the only man for her.”

“A prince, a Ghost hero,” Trey Roust teased. “What more could a woman want in a man?”

“Actually,” Martin said, forking a bit of food, “I think it’s the prince title that throws her off.”

“I don’t see why it should,” Dean snorted. “Don’t most woman dream of having their prince charming coming?”

“Not my lady,” Martin sighed. While he never said who had gotten his interest, the prince was willing to admit to them about the mysterious woman that evaded everyone. From what Dean had put together, the young woman was a strong willed, though compassionate, woman. What Martin saw in her, though, he wasn’t sure about yet. Love was always a mystery.

“Besides,” the prince went on, suddenly looking worn. “I think it might be best that she keeps her distance right now.”

The retired soldiers shared questioning glances. Dean sat down next to the prince, frowning. In the short time he had gotten to know the prince, he had learned that not much seemed to faze him. Even when the teasing got close to the line of rude taunting, Martin never let his emotions rule him. A worried prince somehow worried Dean.

“What’s going on?” Devin asked, dropping his voice so only those at the table could hear.

“Terk’s on the move.”

Dean and the others shook with shock by the prince’s announcement and the dull way he said it. There was no question in their minds that Martin knew what he was saying. They all knew he was connected to the land. He knew more about all of Aeterna than any of them could imagine.

“On the move?” Jared asked. “Moving where?”

Martin didn’t answer, now just moving the food around his plate with his fork.

Trey was the first to figure it out.

“Here,” he breathed.

“What? Why?” Jared asked, turning to Devin for the answer. “It makes no sense. Attacking Nacre won’t help the war. We’re too far away from any of the fighting.”

“Perhaps it’s because we’re the capital?” Dean pointed out.

Devin shook his head. “This war is meant as an offensive war,” he explained. “Not conquer. The Venter king wanted to pay back on an offense. He had no intention of taking over Aeterna. To capture Nacre wouldn’t help the war. If anything, it’ll piss us off and turn this war into something more than what we want.”

“So,” Trey said, frowning. “Why is Terk coming here?” They paused and turned to the prince. Martin still stared at his plate, finally putting his fork down. He sighed then looked up to stare them in the eye.

“He’s after me.”

They didn’t move for a moment, letting the statement sink in. Dean felt the blood drain from his face as thoughts too fast to follow ran through his head. But there was only one obvious conclusion to what the prince meant.

“You mean,” Trey said, his voice too soft, “you knew Terk would be coming?”

“You came to Nacre knowing Terk would be after you?” Jared whispered.

“Are you insane!” Devin demanded to know.

Martin actually smiled a bit. “A bit insane? Probably. But I had no choice.”

“No choice?” Dean asked, his brain still stuck in shock. “What do you mean no choice? You are a Ghost Captain! You had an entire army surrounding you! Terk couldn’t touch you! Why come out in the open if you knew he was going to come after you!”

Martin leveled him a stare that stopped the baker in his rant. The soldiers didn’t even dare speak up when the prince switched his gaze to them.

“I know I’m putting myself at risk,” Martin said softly, his tone suddenly firm. “But I can’t let this war go on any longer. It has to be stopped.”

Dean frowned. What was that supposed to mean? However, before he could ask, Devin figured it out.

“You’re playing bait,” he breathed, his eyes wide. “You didn’t come to Nacre just to be our prince. You’re bait.”

“Terk hates me,” Martin said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And the last couple of years fighting against him hasn’t helped. But yes, I’m playing bait.”

“A bait implies a trap,” Jared pointed out.

“A large trap, actually,” Martin said, smirking a bit. “My Ghosts and I came up with the plan before I came here.”

Dean and the others slumped in their seats. The baker was sure the soldiers felt the same as he did. They had come to like their young prince. Learning that Martin had come, at risk of his own life, to end a war was nerve racking.

“You have a plan then?” Devin coughed, visibly trying to shake off his uneasiness.

The prince snorted. “Of course I have a plan. No one would have allowed me to come to Nacre without a well pounded out plan. I’m not that insane.”

“Will you be needing any help with this plan of yours?” Trey asked.

“Yes,” the prince answered promptly. “I was sort of hoping that you’d help.”

The soldiers were silent for a moment before they burst out laughing. Dean couldn’t understand why. He was still in shock that their prince was putting himself in danger. Willingly! What was funny about that!

“You picked us out, didn’t you?” Jared laughed, tears forming in his eyes. “You found retired, bored soldiers. Buttered us up with tales of your adventures, then proceed to tell us that you’re playing bait. How could we say no?”

“You’re too clever, kid,” Devin said, finally managing chuckling instead of laughter. “Never thought I’d be manipulated like this! And willingly too!”

“This is Martin we’re talking about,” Trey barked out, grinning. “He could probably end this war without even working out into a sweat!”

Martin smiled. “That’s kind of the idea.”

“Do you need my help?” Dean offered, though he didn’t know what he could offer. He wasn’t a soldier. He knew nothing of battle or prepping for one. He was just a baker.

“I do actually,” Martin said promptly. “Could we meet here later tonight? After the shop closes. There are some sensitive details that shouldn’t be overheard.”

“People will ask what’s going on,” Trey pointed out.

Martin shrugged. “Just say that you’re throwing a party for some friends. It’ll be truthful enough.”

“Sensitive details,” Devin mused. “Spies, I’m guessing. Perhaps some sabotage work. Sounds like we’re trying to plan a rebellion instead of a battle.”

“I want don’t want people to die,” Martin said, his voice too soft for them to pick up any emotion. “I’d rather Terk have a peaceful take over of Nacre and then we attack. A rebellious point of attack will be to our advantage.”

“What would you know of rebellions anyway?” Jared asked.

“I’ve studied a lot of different battle tactics,” the prince pointed out. “Including rebellions. You know, just in case.”

Dean wasn’t the only one to shake his head.

“You’re a dangerous man, Martin,” Devin said for all of them.

The prince half smiled. “So people keep on telling me.”
**************
Martin sat in his carriage, staring out the window at the fading light of day over Nacre. The eight guards assigned to escort him were in tight formation around the carriage, their emotions pounding at him with determination and annoyance. Not that he blamed their annoyance. He had slipped away from them during lunch. While he had promised Abigail that he wouldn’t disappear from his guards while they were out, he couldn’t afford to keep that promise. Terk was on the move faster than he would have liked. Time was essential and he had work to do.

I’m going to have to do something about them, he thought, catching another glare a guard shot in his direction. He shouldn’t expect these guards to put up with his disappearance acts without knowing that it was all right.

Sighing, he sunk back into the carriage, staring up at the ceiling. This outing he wasn’t planning on disappearing again. That was for later in the night, when the guards had safely brought him back to the palace. No, this was a social visit.

He should have been more excited. Duke Thomas had invited him to dinner at his mansion. It was going to be nice to see his friend again. Thomas had been too busy with his own estate to come visit and Martin had his own projects to work on. This was the first time they could actually visit without the Court watching.

However, it also placed him in Kriste’s vengeful grasp.

Martin sighed again. He wasn’t sure what Luke’s twin would do to him once she saw him again. She was full of vindictive anger towards him and didn’t hold any respect to him as a prince. She was likely to do anything to him.

But that was a chance he was willing to take. He needed their help.

The carriage arrived at the Dawson Mansion. Martin waited for the footboy to open the door and stepped out. He looked up the facade of the mansion, thinking that it was a bit unoriginal. Many of the mansions in Nacre looked the same. Stone, colored windows, ornate woods, all of it over decorated. Then again, he lived in the palace and everything else just paled in comparison.

A servant dressed in the Dawson colors of red and purple bowed as the carriage drove off.

“Your Highness,” he said, straightening. “If you will follow me, I will lead you to Their Graces.”

Martin nodded in acceptance and followed. With his powers open to the emotions of those around him, he could easily tell that he was being watched. There was the general shock to finally see him, the surprise of how he looked. There would have been doubts if he hadn’t worn his Connection.

He tried to ignore these emotions, but it was hard. He could have easily just had blocked the emotions, but he wanted to be aware of everyone around him. There had been many times during the last few months that his ability to sense emotions had saved him. But the price was to know what everyone was feeling, not just the assassin hidden in shadows.

The servant took him to a smaller sitting room instead of a dinning room. A quick scan of the room reminded him of his own sitting room at the palace. A large fireplace on one wall surrounded by chairs, various other furniture lined the walls. However, there were no other doors leading to other rooms and not nearly as many windows. Thomas and Kriste sat by the fire, a meal already laid out on the center table. Martin wasn’t surprised by this. Thomas wasn’t one to do anything formally.

“Ah!” Thomas said, partially jumping out of his seat. “Martin! It’s nice you can come visit!” Martin laughed and shook the duke’s hand.

“It’s nice of you to invite me,” he said. “Gave me an excuse not to visit Title Chasers.”

Thomas chuckled then turned to the servant. “That’ll be all. Thank you.” The servant bowed and left. Martin was a bit surprised at that. The servants at the palace would have insisted on helping him with something.

“You’ve got them trained to leave you alone?” he asked.

“I’ve been here for a year now,” Thomas pointed out. “I’ve had time to train them. But don’t worry, they’ll get over the helpful stage soon enough. Hungry?”

“Of course he is,” Kriste snorted, standing up. “When isn’t a young man hungry?”

Martin flinched, though not because of her words. Her posture was stiff and her tone without emotion. However, he could tell that she was still angry.

“Is any of it poisoned?” he asked seriously. The Anders were from a long line of spies. Luke was a master poisoner and Kriste had the same talents. “I hate getting poisoned.”

Kriste smirked. “If it were poisoned,” she said, “then I’d be forced to eat it.”

“You know antidotes.”

“It’s not poisoned,” Thomas assured him, clapping him on the shoulder. “I had Kriste promise she wouldn’t.”

“And I always do what my dear lord husband asks,” Kriste said, smiling fondly at her husband. Martin felt the burst of love the two had for each other as their gazes met. He sighed.

“What’s with the sigh?” Kriste asked, smirking. “Sona doesn’t want you?”

Martin knew it was pointless to ask how she knew. “She doesn’t think she can be a princess,” he admitted, his posture slumping. “I’m trying to convince her…”

“Sona is stubborn,” Thomas agreed. “But I’m sure you’ll get her in the end.”

“Gossip is all fine and that,” Kriste said, pointing down at the food. “But how about we discuss it over dinner, before it gets cold?”

“Yes, dear,” Thomas laughed, steering Martin to the table. The prince sat down in the chair Kriste pointed at as the couple sat down opposite of him.

“So,” Thomas said, putting food on his plate, “how’s palace life?”

“Very different from what I’m used to,” Martin answered truthfully.

“I believe it,” Kriste snorted. “After I married Thomas, it took me a while to get used to noble life. I’m used to serving, not being served on.”

“It’s annoying,” Thomas agreed. “But you’ll get used to it.” He paused. “However, I think the topic you’d really like to talk about is your current project.” The duke grinned. “The one where I get to use my hobby for.”

Martin half smiled. “It’s been occupying most of my time and energy.” He turned to Kriste. “Do you want to be part of it?”

“For revenge against the man who killed my brother?” she snorted. “Of course I am. What do you need us to do?”

Martin smiled. This was exactly how he wanted it to happen.
***********
The visit to Thomas’s was, for the most part, very pleasant. Yes, they talked mostly about the trap and Terk’s move to Nacre. Yes, Kriste was still very much angry with him. But Martin felt more relaxed, more like himself, than he had in months. It was much like old times, when he and his friends planned their pranks and adventures. There was much joking involved and meticulous planning.

However, there was a pain of regret this time around. Luke wasn’t there helping.

Martin stared moodily out the window during the ride back to the palace. Over a year since Luke’s death and it seemed that the pain didn’t go away. Or the guilt.

“You’re going to sink yourself into a depression thinking like this.”

Martin smiled a bit. “I know I can get away with it,” he said softly, though no one was in the carriage. “You always stop me from sinking.”

The Spirit snorted. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t. We don’t need a depressed prince.”

“I’m human too, you know,” he pointed out to the voice in his head. “I’m subject to emotions.”

“But you don’t show anyone your emotions,” The Spirit rebutted. “How can anyone help you feel better if you don’t let them in?”

“You know why,” Martin whispered.

For a long minute, the Spirit didn’t answer. Finally, it sighed. “Yes, we know.”

Neither of them said anything for a long time, letting the silence reign in his head. Martin knew that as a prince he needed to trust people. And he did, for the most part. He knew most people were good and that they meant him no harm. But he couldn’t let people get close to him. He grew up believing that there was an enemy behind every corner, someone was always there to harm him.

“You grew up very lonely, didn’t you?” the Spirit asked.

“Yes,” he answered softly. “But what does that matter? I would have been just as lonely growing up as a prince.”

“Perhaps.”

Then the Spirit was gone. Martin glanced out the window to see the palace quickly approaching. The Spirit was kind enough to not talk to him when other people were around. Who would believe that he talked with voices in his head?

Once they got inside, Martin made his way to his apartment, the guards relieved to finally get rid of him. Martin knew he had to deal with the guards soon. Those feelings of resentment and bitterness shouldn’t be allowed to fester. No one tried to stop him as he went. It was too late at night for much of anything. Most of the servants must have thought that he was just going to bed.

He still had work to do.

I’m going to get sleep deprived if I keep up this pace, he thought as he went in his room. He still had the meeting at Dean’s shop to attend before he called it a day. He closed the door with a sigh, wondering why he had agreed to this.

“Going out again?”

Martin half turned, not the least bit surprised to see Sona standing in the middle of his receiving room. She wore her usual shirt and trousers.

“You know I am,” he said, half smiling. “I invited you to the meeting.”

Sona smirked, holding out his wig to him. “Best hurry then. We’re late.”
***********
Now for that rambling I promised. What a crazy adventure I was lead on this NaNo. I was a bit surprised when it took me a bit to get into the story (about 30 pages worth, some of which I’ll probably end up deleting because I just didn’t put any effort into it). But once I got over that hump, everything flowed from one thing to the next. Then the next thing I knew, I was typing “The End.”

The End.

I couldn’t stop grinning.

Now that the excitement of having finished this project is over, I’m now filled with new emotions. 1) Nervousness. I’m thinking about getting published. Seriously thinking. 2) Worry. Is my book good enough to publish? 3) Confusion. What am I supposed to write now? I’ll probably wait until the new year before I write again. My brain needs a break. 4) Tiredness. Wait…. That’s the head cold speaking… 5) And surprisingly: Accomplished. I’ve finished a book series. Oh, editing needs done, and some things will end up getting tossed, but… It’s done. I’ve wanted to write Martin’s story for a long time. And now it’s done. I still can’t stop grinning when I think about it.

Going back to emotion number one, I’ve done some reading on what to do to get published. One of the major themes is marketing. Marketing the book. So I’ve decided to ask a favor of my few readers.

Get others to read my blog.

The more people are reading my blog, the more likely I’ll get published. This blog is open for anyone to read. Tell friends, family, neighbors, anyone interested in reading to take a gander at my blog. I don’t care if they’re complete strangers to me. I need people to read my blog. If they complain about it being on the internet, or wanting it in book or e-reader form, tell them that I can’t get there until I have people reading the blog. Trust me. It’ll help a lot.

Thanks for waiting this long time for this post (though this wait isn’t nearly as long as some times I’ve gone between posts). Thanks for reading and giving me encouragement. I need every bit of it. Enjoy the journey!