Expose

“Woah…”

My jaw drops.

I freeze up.

“This is as far as we go.” One of the soldiers rides up beside me.

At the crest of a small hill, we gaze over the Fardallan palace. A gold-plated gate encircles the property, the metal sending glittering beams into the surrounding gardens. Intricate swirls weave in and out of the towering bars, creating a stunning work of art…but it’s nothing compared to what stands behind it.

A grand, sumptuous structure, the palace looms like a gilded monolith. Ornate masonry with gold-leaf detailing adorns the façade. Relief sculptures depicting noblemen are carved into the surface—past kings, perhaps? Between them, multi-story windows glimmer and reflect sunlight onto a spotless, marble-tiled plaza surrounding the building. Balconies protrude high above, but there’s nobody to be seen.

In fact, the palace looks deserted.

“Well, this isn’t what I expected.” Kier’s voice is quiet.

I’m at a loss for words. We’ve travelled the Fardallan countryside to get here. We’ve seen profound hardship and cruelty. The peasants toiled in the fields, their emaciated bodies proclaiming a dire state of poverty. They live in fear of the military. They’re restricted from traveling within their own borders.

But this place…it’s completely different.

The sheer decadence is awe-inspiring. You’d think the poverty we witnessed was nothing more than a dream, for this building showcases ultimate wealth and extravagance. This is the seat of a noble and prosperous empire…or perhaps it’s simply the home of a vampire who’s sucked his country dry. This is a vortex of wealth. An entire country’s riches have coalesced into this single spot.

It bears an eerie similarity to my hometown of Vero. There, the buildings were plain brick structures surrounding a grand central temple. The gleaming white edifice stretched into the sky, standing as a symbol of my father’s power.

Perhaps it makes sense that this is where our quest has led. The Hermit King lives here, and he has ties to my family. It’s a past my father never spoke of. He hid it from me.

But I’m here to find answers.

I’ll befriend the unsavory creature who calls this place home. I’ll get the information I seek.

“Let’s go.” I begin riding down the hill, the wind racing through my hair while a sense of excitement overtakes me.

Guards pull the gilded gates open as we approach, allowing us to gallop onto the marble plaza. Hooves clatter, announcing our presence.

But save for a handful of soldiers near the entrance, there’s nobody here. Pure silence. Pure stillness. Not even the wind blows.

“Where is everyone?” Kier shields his eyes from the sun and scans the elegant surroundings.

Small clicking noises echo overhead.

We look up, watching while glass doors behind the balconies slowly open. Men emerge, but they’re truly bizarre. Long, jewel-toned coats…sleeves with lacey ruffles…gold jewelry and canes adorned with diamonds…I’ve never seen such gaudy finery.

And their legs…they all wear bright white stockings that hug their calves, tracing up to silk shorts. What an odd style of dress. It would be comical if not for the fact I’ve seen peasants wearing rags out in the countryside.

Roughly a dozen men pour out onto the balconies. Their frilly sleeves sway as they point toward me and whisper. It makes my cheeks turn red.

But I’m soon distracted.

The palace doors fling open, and a single-file line of young men races into the plaza. Unlike the gentlemen high above, these newcomers are dressed identically. They march toward us with perfectly synchronized steps. It’s a choreographed display.

They’re servants.

They wear sky-blue coats with sapphires sewn into the silk fabric. On their legs, they wear those same white tights, but they trace up to unusually short shorts—practically nonexistent. My eyes glide down their fit, muscular legs, resting on their strange shoes. The footwear sports pointed tips with elevated heels and large silk bows sewn into the tops. Loud clicking noises echo with each step they take. It’s like listening to horse hooves.

This uniform…it’s ridiculous. It’s as though someone took a team of servants and decided to dress them like little dolls.

And then I notice their faces.

All are young men, somewhere around my same age…and they’re beautiful. Each worker possesses an almost identical build: a thin, tight, supple body. Their faces are soft, full, and almost angelic. They’re like beings descended from the clouds. An army dedicated to serving men…

“My liege, you’ve finally arrived.” A boyish, chestnut-haired servant stares up at me as I sit atop my horse.

I look down into his large brown eyes, struggling to formulate a response. He doesn’t know who I am—I’m here in place of Kirnon Crane. He must just automatically assume I’m someone important. I suppose it makes sense though. A commoner would never find his way into the court of the Hermit King. Thank god Kier and I were able to buy some decent clothes back in Elrus.

The young servant extends a graceful, white-gloved hand to help me dismount. As I descend, he grips me tight. I can feel warmth through the glove fabric.

My cheeks flush.

“T-thank you.” I struggle to force the words out.

He stays silent, simply gazing into my eyes as we stand together. Shorter than I am, his plump cheeks are adorned with a light dusting of freckles. Something about him is magnetic. Part of me wishes I could reach out and lock him into a hug. That fit, supple body…I want to feel it pressed against mine.

He lets go of my hand, breaking the spell.

I turn to see Kier chatting with several other servants. They look up at his hulking frame with wide eyes. I can tell they like what they see. It makes me smirk. If only they knew how incredible he looks beneath his clothes.

“This way, master!” Another servant beckons me toward the palace entrance.

I follow, feeling a bit awkward. It’s like I’m back in Vero. As son of The Prophet, I was de facto royalty in the compound. People used to walk on eggshells around me.

Our entourage ushers us inside. Cool air bathes my skin while my eyes adjust. No less magnificent than the exterior, the inside of the palace is a temple to opulence. High overhead, a glittering chandelier bathes the chamber in delicate light, illuminating tall, aged portraits on the walls. Grand columns stretch toward a ceiling painted with a scene of clouds and angels. The deities are young and attractive…they’re awfully similar to the servants guiding us.

We move from chamber to chamber, our footsteps echoing upon the hard marble floors. A delicate melody of string instruments wafts through the rooms, the musicians hidden somewhere further inside. We pass groups of nobles sitting at tables playing cards and sipping wine. They look up, eyeing us with curiosity.

I walk past a particularly old man, watching while he traces his eyes up and down my body.

“Mmmm…not bad,” he whispers.

I stop in my tracks, my eyes growing wide with disbelief.