The Unsung Heroes: Rising Tides (#1)

Prologue

Water rushed to porcelain, warming the cool interior. Thick perfumes of rose petals and fresh linens clouded the air, flowing through the hall from the crack beneath the door. Towels hung neatly by the tub, welcoming their next guest with open arms. Echoes of piano and harp strings bounced around the large room, humming quiet melodies of the festivities below. Fog clung to the mirror, crawling ever so slowly--inch by inch--from edge to edge.

He leaned from side-to-side, his eyes trying to catch that perfect glimpse in the mirror. He was well-prepared for the event, his face and hair perfectly drawn up for the evening. His hand caressed the edge of his jaw, admiring the slight imperfections a straight-edge was bound to leave behind. Not a thing could ruin his appearance, he mused, but wondered how much perfection was left to be desired. His thoughts cleared as he eased his figure into the warm water, suds of old soap clinging to his skin. The luxury of a warm bath would not pass him by too easily.

Seconds--minutes--pass as he soaked, thoughts of perfection and mishaps gracing his mind. He knew he had responsibilities to so many, as they looked to him for the higher standard. Never mind the onlookers and naysayers, those with admiration for their leader would not take pity on him for a misguided step. Young and nevertheless reckless, his advisers demanded a standard of living the young man was just not ready to uphold. The would-be King just would not be. Not yet.

His eyes crawled along the ceiling, mapping crack and crevice from years before. Chatter of the guests below rose in volume, calling a short end to his much needed bath. Pools of water gathered around his toes as he danced with the linens beside the tub. Announcements were made, names were called... There was no more time to sit and lounge, he decided, for he had many to greet and words to mince. With a flower affixed to his coat, he swept his hair to the side, and left the room with a grin.

A stout old man, addressed him outside, inquiring of the satisfaction of his bath with cold, mechanical eyes. With an anxious nod and laugh, the young man replied, "Absolutely perfect, Mason. You've no worries, my good man!"

As if he'd lived only to hear those very words, the old man responded with a simple nod of the head, his lips pinched into a fine line. "Thank you, Sire. Madam L'uciiene is awaiting your presence in the Ballroom. P-please... Follow me." He stepped to the side, gears whirring and turning with each step. The man flowed with every twist and turn of the wondrous corridor. Beautiful oils of past and present Kings hung along the wall, solemn memories accompanying all but the one replacing the last. Mementos and charms sat upon pedestals of all sizes, displaying the wealth, the power, the presence of their Rule. And yet, the grandest treasure of them all stood before the young man. Shifting back as large guards stepped forward, a door gave way to reveal what beauty the ballroom had in store.

With a flowing bow, two sets of security welcomed him to work, the only place many of the staff knew to call home. Fingers grasped at him with each and every step, food on trays, in bowls, pushed in his direction. Hello's and guffaws greeted him as he stepped through the crowd in a predefined route. Everything was planned for him; little thought went into his part, a notion he greatly despised. As he turned to face the crowd, lying in wait while his guests danced and feasted, a calloused hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him vigorously.

A roar of laughter thundered in the elder man's chest. His hand moved from the young man's shoulder, patting him squarely on the back. "Lucas, my boy! I have outdone myself again! Just look at the audience we have gathered this evening... Such a pleasure to see all of their faces, wouldn't you say?"

Lucas overlooked his pervading presence, watching the monotonous movements of the dancing couples. "L'uciiene called for me, Cal. Have you seen her?"

"Oh-ho! But that was not her, Lucas!" Cal's eyes glistened with fervor as he corrected the young man. "My wife is a very busy woman, lad. With the festivities, she is very much occupied with the seniority in the loft! I'm sure she will be missed, but she is needed elsewhere. Now, my boy, we have something to speak about. Please, sit." His hand motioned toward the elegant chairs nested comfortably against the stone wall. "It is imperative that we finish our business by the feast's end."

With a solemn nod, Lucas sat, for he knew what was to come. Such a discussion he aimed to avoid in delaying his bath, his dressing, his entrance... "I have made preparations to guide the troops through Luorine, Cal. You've no need to worry."

"Ah, but Lucas, that is precisely the reason for our little chat." With a heavy sigh, Cal concluded his mental reasoning. He could no longer withhold information from Lucas without risking the security of their empire. "I come to you with a heavy heart, so you must understand what I am saying is for the safety of our great nation. I am not long for this world... I have raised you as my own and guided you to the best of my abilities, but there is much that cannot be avoided. Destiny lies in the hands of her maker.

"I understand you have made contact with a woman of Mesa... While I must applaud you for your impeccable taste in woman, lad," Cal exclaimed, a hearty laugh to follow, "I... I cannot see this through with a sound mind. You are important to this land... To me, to L'uciiene. This woman you favor is not of royal blood... I cannot--will not--condone this behavior, should you replace me in my passing. You must uphold our standard, mustn't tarnish our legacy, son..."

With each word his King spoke, hatred and anger began to boil in his veins. He had not foreseen the conversation steering in that direction--he hoped it was simply a test of his military strength, his knowledge of routes, tactics, and stealthy strategies, but not of his true reason for the journey. Cal felt the sincerity in his own words, and had hoped the boy would see from his perspective, yet the tension in the air and the burning in Lucas' eyes crushed his hopes into oblivion. With bated breath, the King awaiting his response; though it would never come quick enough.

Lucas' fingers knotted around the crook of the armrests, his knee violently thrusting in the air. His words would not be kind; restraint was not a choice of his. With his tongue against his teeth, he seethed, "Like your son. You don't want me to fall to the likes of the true heir, Cal; am I hearing you correctly?" He sat forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, his wrists against his mouth. His eyes scanned the floor, carefully--calculated.

Cal, startled by the harsh return, froze in his throne. "Jackson made his own decisions, Lucas. His decision was uh... misguided, knowing now where it led. He is happy now; a General in good standing. He may not be of royalty, but he shall always be my son, and I shall always love him the same." His fingers rubbed against the short stubble on his chin. "I do not want the same for you, Lucas. His love did not last; I fear you may fall against the same consequence."

He nodded roughly, his tongue in his cheek. As the anger bubbled over, his filter began flickering out. "Yes, that's exactly why you've made your decision. You are more interested in protecting your image once more than protecting me! This is absurd, Cal!"

The King laughed, looking over towards the man. "Cal... ," he mimicked, his teeth shifting against each other. "I don't understand why you have never called me father."

"Because you are not my dad," Lucas started, rising to his feet. With a finger jammed into the old man's chest, he continued, "And I am not your son." His eyes locked with the King's, red eyes burning into his green. And as the play of the orchestra wrapped up, so had his speech. With a huff and a turn, Lucas started for the crowd, beaming with a plastic smile.

Lucas clasped his hands together loudly, drawing the crowd's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, androids and the like! Good evening everyone! On behalf of the Acero family, I would like to thank you all for coming. Please, please... Enjoy the night! Drink, be merry, and dance the night away! As I believe the saying goes: My home is your home."