Prologue

One morning we set out, our brains aflame,

Our hearts full of resentment and bitter desires

~ Charles Baudelaire

Joseph Martel, third son of the Aelian Emperor, sat very uncomfortably in the stiff chair provided for him in his father's spacious office. An expansive holo-screen played a newsreel of a police raid on a bar in the early hours of that morning. Joseph focused on the grain of his father's mahogany desk, refusing to look at the screen or the irate emperor.

"I cannot even begin to express my…disappointment in you," Louis Martel said. He was a man of fifty-six years, slender with ramrod straight posture, thick, steel-grey hair and an impeccable suit. His powder-blue eyes stared coolly at the top of his son's head, waiting for the young man to look up.

"We just want to understand why," Empress Jeanne added, as she perched on the arm of her husband's chair. Her tone indicated an attempt at motherliness but she fell short somewhere. Perhaps it was the plastic surgery which, successful in making her look nearly as young as her son, had robbed her of all the tender expressions that accompanied motherly concern.

"Why what?" Joseph asked, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. He was still dressed in his clothing from the night before, rumpled but flashy club clothing, and his thick chestnut hair, inherited from his father, was mussed. "For the hundredth time, I didn't do anything wrong."

"They were selling illegal substances there, Joseph," his mother said.

"I didn't know," he insisted.

"You were seen soliciting a prostitute."

"I—What?" For the first time, Joseph looked up. His handsome features were frozen in a mask of shock and horror as he looked at his mother. "I never—I would never—I mean, why would I even—?"

"At this point," the emperor said, "it isn't a matter of what you did or did not do or even know. That is the story the press has their hands on and that is what they are running with. 'The playboy prince strikes again.' Even if we had time to make a statement, which we didn't, the damage is already done in the eyes of the public. You are a disgrace. As it stands, you are third in line to inherit and—"

"And unless dear Henri's Paul figures out how to conceive sometime soon or Adrien, oh excuse me, Brother whatever-he-wants-to-be-called decides he doesn't want to be a monk anymore, I will inherit and you're concerned I don't take it seriously enough. We've had this conversation before, Father."

"Apparently we need to have it again because you haven't learned the lesson."

"You act like I'm the only one who's ever done anything wrong around here."

"Your brothers weren't caught in a drug bust soliciting a prostitute."

"Allegedly soliciting a prostitute, I didn't do it."

"So you admit to the drugs?"

"I'm clean."

"We thought we were doing the right thing when we sent you to that military academy but the friends you made there weren't the most savory lot," the empress said.

"So, what, you're going to put me in the army now, is that it?" Joseph asked incredulously.

"No, we can't afford you getting any worse than you are now," Louis said.

"Gee, thanks, Dad."

"Your father and I have decided that it would be for the best if you stepped out of the public sphere for a while. You haven't been putting much effort into your schoolwork lately and we believe that it is time for you to focus on your studies," Jeanne added.

"Wow, I thought that would be worse. Can do, Ma."

"In Iscalis," his father amended.

"Where?"

"The province of Iscalis. I am sure you've heard of it."

"Ah, yeah, the war zone."

"It is not a war zone."

"That's what it looks like on the news."

"You've never seen a war zone, boy."

"Neither have you. The last war we had, which was against natives with spears, by the way, was almost two and a half centuries ago. So, I think it's fair to call Iscalis a war zone."

"The situation in Iscalis is…difficult, yes, but it is well in hand. That is why we, your mother and I, have decided that it would be best for you to learn what real leadership is over there."

"Real leadership, yeah, of people who don't want to be led. If you ask me—"

"I didn't."

"If you ask me, we should just give up on Iscalis. Cut our losses."

"We have held Iscalis for more than five hundred years. A little turmoil is no cause to give up what is rightfully ours."

"I think there's a bit more than 'a little turmoil' over there."

"Besides," Jeanne said, cutting off the argument between father and son, "the University of Rhemuth is a very good and very old school. The best families in Aelia have been sending their children there for centuries."

"You're just saying that."

"No, it's true, the university was started by that barbarian king all the way back in the twelfth century. I mean, it was started to study magic or some superstitious thing like that but that was the Middle Ages, things have changed since then. And haven't you always said that you just want to fit in? Be normal? Or some nonsense like that? Well, now's your chance. Iscalis is so far off the beaten track that the people probably won't even recognize Aelia's youngest prince."

"What you mean is that the entire province is like a backwater hovel."

"It's…rustic."

"You might is well send me to the rainforest. I'd probably be safer what with all of the poisonous spiders and snakes and piranhas."

"Jo…"

"You sound like a melodramatic old woman," the emperor said.

"You're exiling me to what is probably the most dangerous and least technologically advanced province in the entire empire for something I didn't do. I have a right to be angry."

"You have no rights. You have been an embarrassment to this family, creating scandal after scandal since you were twelve years old. It is time for you to grow up and learn some responsibility. You are no longer a child."

"Well, since I have no rights and no say in any of this, I'm surprised you even called me up here to chat. You could have saved yourself the trouble and slipped a plane ticket under my door. It would have been faster." Joseph stood.

"Where are you going?" Louis demanded.

"Apparently I have some packing to do."

"I have not dismissed you yet."

"I do not think we have anything else to talk about."

The emperor sighed. "Fine. Go."

Joseph nodded curtly to his mother and father before turning on his heel and storming out, looking more like a petulant child than he had intended.

"I hope that we've done the right thing," Jeanne fretted, delicately gnawing on her bottom lip.

"The boy needs to learn his lesson and I'm afraid this is the only way he'll do it."

"So?" Joseph opened the door to his apartment to find his two best friends waiting for him in anxious anticipation. Neither of them had changed since the night before and Alice's makeup showed the hours, smudged and smeared as it was. She jumped up off her chair at the prince's arrival, eyes wide. It was she who had spoken.

"Not good."

"What happened?" she asked, voice cracking.

"They don't believe me…about any of it." Joseph collapsed on his sofa, the importance of what his parents had just told him still sinking in. Alice's features, initially taut with fear, crumpled at the realization of those fears.

"Julien, say something." The prince's other friend had been trying to remain unnoticed until now, sitting motionless and saying nothing but, with that attempt failed, he snapped at Alice.

"What do you want me to say?"

"It was your idea for us to go to that stupid club."

"I didn't know, any more than either of you did. And that prostitute was an accident."

"Yeah, they thought that was me," Joseph said.

"What? Why?" Alice asked.

"I don't know," the prince answered with a sigh. "The press wanted to spice up the story, I guess. 'The screw-up prince and the prostitute.'"

"You're not a screw-up, Jo," Alice insisted. "You just like to live a little more than some other people. But…what's going to happen now?"

"To you and Julien? Nothing, unless you happened to get picked up by the cops last night. Then, you might even get your own scandal story, on page ten, or something like that. As for me, their Royal Majesties have decided it's time for me to be re-educated, again."

"Where are they sending you this time, Fort something-or-other?"

"Iscalis."

"Fort Iscalis? Have you ever heard of it, Julien?"

"Not Fort Iscalis, you dunderhead," Julien said, grumpily, "Just Iscalis. It's a province way out in the boonies. There've been a lot of problems there ever since it was annexed into the empire. Didn't you ever pay attention in history class?"

"Don't call me a dunderhead," Alice pouted.

"Things have stabilized there a bit recently but it's still not a particularly safe region. Why are they sending you there?"

"To teach me how to 'lead'," Joseph answered.

"From what I can tell, the people of Iscalis don't want to be led. Even when they had their barbarian kings they were always trying to get rid of them."

"That's what I said, but I'm starting to think that's the point. They want me to struggle to rule those stupid, stubborn rednecks so I can see how hard it will be to be emperor and that will scare me onto the straight and narrow."

"So you had the emperor talk again?"

"It's kind of inevitable. Henri might make a good emperor but he's as gay as they come and even if he and Paul adopt, the kid won't be in the succession. Adrien's gone all monk on us. Given up all worldly possessions, which includes the crown. I think he's given up sex, too, so there won't be any kids coming from there, either. That just leaves little old me."

"I think it's cool that you'll be emperor," Alice said.

"I hope that Henri lives a very long time," Joseph replied.

"I think the whole empire hopes that," Julien muttered just loud enough for the other two to hear him.

"Julien!" Alice gasped. If she had been close enough, she would have kicked him. As it was, she glared across the room at him.

"He's right, though," Joseph pointed out.

"I don't care!" Alice insisted. "But, I mean, well, if he is right, then this could be your chance to show them all how wrong they are. You're going to be the best emperor ever and those people in Iscalis are going to simply adore you."

"You're dreaming," Julien said. He looked helplessly over at Joseph. "She's dreaming."

"I know," Joseph replied.

"So, when are you leaving?" Julien asked as Alice waxed dramatic on Joseph's perfect future reign.

"I don't know," the prince said, "but it's probably soon. They don't want me here long enough to work up another scandal or anything, I'm sure."

"Soon?" Alice had caught Joseph utter that word and she repeated it, hopelessness in her tone. "You have to let me help you pack, then. Because, if you don't, you're going to pack all sorts of stupid stuff that you don't need and then, when you get to Iscalis, you'll remember all of the important things you forgot and then what will you do? You won't have them." Alice's voice cracked on the last sentence as she tried to hold back her tears.

"I wouldn't dream of having it any other way, Lili," Joseph said, knowing exactly what to say to calm his oldest friend before she dissolved into hysterics.

"Really?"

Joseph nodded. Julien coughed and stood up.

"Well, I think I'd just be in the way here if I stay so why don't I head home? I'll see you around before you go, I'm sure, Jo," he said.

"That sounds good," Joseph said.

"Ah, bye," Alice said, a little coldly. She stared at Julien as he walked out.

Alice and Julien fought like this so frequently and they always made up that Joseph was not concerned about what would happen to them after he left. In a few weeks, after Alice had forgotten why she was angry, they would be the best friends in the world once more. It was as inevitable as their next fight would be. They were, neither of them, particularly easy to get along with, so Joseph supposed it was a miracle that they were even friends in the first place.

"So, let's start with your clothes," Alice said, pulling open the sliding doors to Joseph's bedroom and going directly to the closet. She picked a suitcase chip off of a hook and plugged it in. "We don't know how much memory the closets in Iscalis have so we should start with the basics and we don't want to frighten the natives with your fabulous fashion sense so nothing too flashy either. What's the weather like in Iscalis?" As she asked the question, Alice motioned with her hand, the sensor ring on her finger catching the attention of the apartment computer which pulled up a holo-screen displaying the average weather in Iscalis. "Never mind. Show me a map of Iscalis." The screen complied. "All right, so there's only one big city in Iscalis. Rhemuth, is it? There are some others, I suppose, but I think it's safe to assume that you'll be spending most of your time in Rhemuth."

"That's where the university is," Joseph said, sitting on his bed as he watched his friend work. She wasn't listening to him anyway.

"Show me the weather for Rhemuth." The screen displayed the current weather in the city of Rhemuth. "Not right now, I mean average. Stupid computer." The screen displayed the average weather in Rhemuth. "Thank you."

Alice waved her hand at the closet, pulling up another screen with images of clothing on it. "All right. Now…" Alice began flipping through the images, using her hand to indicate the direction she wanted them to go and at what speed. "No. No. No. Yes. Maybe. Jo, get over here and try this on." She made the motion of grabbing the image of a shirt and tossing it in Joseph's direction. It pulled up another screen which, when Joseph stood behind it, gave a decent impression of what the shirt would look like when he wore it. "Okay, that's a yes. Now these." Alice sent some trousers in Joseph's direction. "Ah, no. Never mind those."

Two days later, Joseph was checking in at the airport and trying to ignore the buzz of the crowd that had come to see him off. They were mostly reporters, hoping to get one little bit of news out of him that the others couldn't. The royal family had made a statement concerning Joseph's departure but it was so vague that no one was really satisfied. The intention was to keep it that way.

He'd already said goodbye to his parents and brothers the night before. Breakfast had been with Alice and Julien, the former crying during the entire meal. She'd asked him if he was sure he had everything packed more times than his own mother had. With no one to say goodbye to at the airport, there were no tearful farewells for the press to catch. Instead, all they saw was a team of burly, black-clad bodyguards surrounding the prince as he walked across the tarmac to the royal jet.

Inside the plane, he turned on some music just loud enough to drown out the sound of the plane's engines, ordered a drink from one of the lovely flight attendants and endeavored to forget both what he was leaving behind and where he was going.

After one drink, and then another, and about an hour's worth of mind numbing games, Joseph made the decision that the flight was best spent asleep. Despite the amount of travelling a prince was expected to do, Joseph rarely made such a decision. There was always something to do while flying. Films could be watched, music listened to, homework finished, games played, if all else failed it was even a good time for introspection, not that Joseph was often caught engaged in introspection. This time was different. He'd never been exiled to a god-forsaken province before and for how long? If he was lucky, maybe only a year. If not? He might be stuck in Iscalis until graduation in four or five years. If he was particularly unlucky it could be longer. With all of these unpleasant thoughts bouncing around in his head, Joseph couldn't concentrate on anything fun and he certainly didn't want to purposefully think. Instead, sleep was his best option.

When he woke up, they were less than an hour out from Iscalis and the flight attendant was offering him food. He declined the meal in favor of a light snack in case the Iscalians offered him food on landing. Munching on the fruit provided, he watched new footage from Iscalis to prepare him for what was ahead.

The first thing Joseph noticed about Iscalis was the large crowd that had gathered for his arrival. That would never have happened in Aelia proper. Then he saw that the crowd was made almost entirely up of university age people dressed in the very best and almost latest clothing. More soldiers than Joseph would have imagined necessary milled about the perimeter with machine guns.

Before this sank in, his hand was taken by a short, round, sweaty man in the most pristinely cut suit money could buy. "Your Highness, it really is an honor to host you here in our humble province. We are very proud…" He continued speaking but, smiling, Joseph tuned him out. It was the same speech he always heard about how honored they were and how magnanimous he was and how wonderful the whole situation was, even though Joseph was certain that this man, Thomas de Beauchamp, the governor of Iscalis, knew exactly what circumstances led the prince to visit his "humble province".

"This is my wife, Stéphanie," de Beauchamp was saying, as he led the prince closer to a stately woman in her mid-forties. She looked very natural, Joseph thought. Either she had the best plastic surgeon on the planet or she hadn't had any surgery. If that were true, she was a rare woman. Stéphanie de Beauchamp curtseyed before her prince.

"And this is my son, Philippe. He's about your age so I'm sure you'll be good friends." Thomas spoke as if the two young men were ten rather than twenty and, by looking at Philippe de Beauchamp, he was used to the treatment. Philippe took after his mother, which was preferable to his father, but he gave the impression of being an air-head. He might be fun at parties but he wouldn't be good for much else. Looking around at the others, Joseph was struck by the same impression. He may just have found the part school in the University of Rhemuth.

"Now, you must be famished after that long plane ride," Thomas continued. "We have reservations at the finest restaurant in Rhemuth. We may be a little off the beaten path but I think we're better for it." He laughed and slapped Joseph on the back.

The crowd took this cue and began moving as one towards the parking lot. Even more soldiers milled about there, looking menacing. Joseph glanced around for the governor's car and almost missed it until he saw the governor climbing into the back. The reason for this was that the car looked less like a passenger vehicle and more like a tank, and one used for active duty at that.

"Is this really necessary?" he asked once they were all inside.

"No," Philippe answered sullenly. His father glanced at him uncomfortably and chuckled.

"We value safety here in Rhemuth, just like you do back home, I'm sure, it's just that we can't always get flashy things out here." Joseph caught the hint of bitterness in the governor's voice and decided not to ask any more potentially sensitive questions.

Looking out the tank's small window, Joseph noticed that the streets were all but empty.

"It's past curfew," Philippe said, noticing Joseph's interest out the window. "Native Iscalians aren't allowed outside anymore tonight."

"Oh," Joseph replied, wondering how bad the violence really must have been to warrant a measure like that. As he looked on at the almost empty streets, he began to read the few lit up signs. Almost all of them were subtitled in another language which, try as he might, Joseph couldn't read.

"What's that other language on the signs?" he asked impulsively.

"Oh," the governor said, chuckling, "that's just the native dialect. The Iscalians are stubborn about that."

The governor obviously didn't know the definition of a dialect. This language was completely different from Aelian, or even any Aelian dialect he'd ever heard. This was a completely different language, perhaps one of the last few in existence after the 21st century reforms that prohibited the teaching of native languages in schools.

Watching the soldiers patrol empty streets in the light of dual-language signs, Joseph began to truly comprehend for the first time what sort of world, and it felt like a different world, his father had sent him to.