Chapter 4: Beginnings
Trunks had a headache, and wanted to go to sleep, maybe if his eyes were closed the throbbing pain behind them would go away. The day had been long and full of words he couldn't understand and meanings he didn't want to, but his scouter would flash the words in front of his eyes and inform him he was going to meet Lord what-was-it? Who was his grandmothers cousin how-many-times-was-it? removed on who's side? And he must be polite because his wife- only they didn't call her that, they called her a word that translated into woman-mate and sounded like rrakkahhrn- was a stuffy old bag. Trunks wondered if it had been Parsnal who had told him that, because the rest were being as respectfully anal as he was when he first met Trunks. Trunks felt he'd almost be grateful to see his familiar, big boned, scarred face at the moment, there had been too many new faces tonight, Trunks wanted a bit of familiarly just to confirm that he was still in the same reality as he thought he was, and not drifting through countless realities filled with nothing-behind-the-eyes faces who spoke to him with words that made little sense. Where was the Prince they kept talking about? He sounded like someone people would fear, the way they looked when his name- no, not his name, these people called him Prince Vegita- was spoken said there was fear there, relief, but fear.
Why were they scared of him? Weren't Prince's the sort of people that ruled with a kind hand and that other people liked? No, not here. Here they were people who were needed to keep a planet together, bound with ropes of obey-me-or-loose-body-parts subordinance. Here they were people who had to wear blue black spandex and blood red cloaks and have their hair pulled to the back of their heads so it wouldn't get tangled up with the heavy golden crown that was probably half the reason for his headache. Here Prince's were looked up at because the body belonging to the eyes was flat on the floor in 'respect' and the eyes never met his anyway.
How long had this been going on since he landed? He and Parsnal had been up and busy for hours before they landed, and Trunks hadn't even seen a bed here yet. How long? Was it twice or thrice that the harsh Saiyan sun had risen?
He was glad of the throne, it wasn't padded, because it wasn't made to be comfortable in, but it was doing a good job of substituting for his backbone at the moment, because his had up and left. He disguised a yawn, and did a pretty good job, a habit he'd picked up from his mother.
Bulma...
No, he mustn't think about her now. Someone was speaking to him, and the heaven sent words appeared on the scouter. "You falling asleep at the Tournament tomorrow will cause a great deal of havoc, and I think we can do without. No eligible young Lady will want to marry a Prince who falls asleep over dinner. I'll show you to your chambers, because I dare say you've forgotten the way." Trunks blinked at the large, moving flesh coloured blob in front of his face, and it transformed into Parsnal, looking serious, although his eyes showed a flicker of laughter at a private joke that Trunks didn't notice, because he was relishing in the fact that he would finally get to sleep!
Parsnal announced to the room that the Prince would be leaving now, and the entire contents of the room knelt or lay on the polished floor, depending on their rank. Trunks managed to keep his head high so he wouldn't have to look at the faces, although this wasn't the appearance giving off; it looked like poise.
"He is our Prince." Said the people after he'd gone. "He will do great things for this planet. Look at the way he holds himself. He is our Prince."
*************
The night passed too quickly, and he was woken at dawn, when the heavy curtains at his window began to show a little light around the edges. Four male servants stood at the foot of his bed, two watching him, two with their back to him watching a female servant light the huge fire in the hearth, then scuttle out and return with a large tray of food. She placed the tray at the foot of his bed then bowed low, the four watched her as she exited again, returning a few moments later with an armful of clothes.
Trunks blinked, as he slowly woke up, he didn't usually take this long to become fully conscious of his surroundings. The few times he had had to be awake suddenly were more then enough training, whenever he woke back home, he was always wide awake the moment his eyes opened.
Back home. Trunks remembered where he was, and swallowed an It-wasn't-a-dream moan. Damn. He sat up in the huge bed,
"This is the food Your Majesty shall eat. These are the clothes Your Majesty shall wear. If anything else is desired, we will produce it." The four men chorused, it sounded wrong, so wrong. The girl stayed silent.
*A ride home* Thought Trunks wistfully.
"An escort round the Palace will be provided after Your Majesty has eaten. Be aware that after this day you shall dine at the head of the Table, with the Palace's Lords, the Council and members of the Court." The four chorused again. "Your Majesty's escort will inform you of the rest of the day's activities."
The shortest of the four stepped forward, producing a pronged spoon- *spork?* Thought Trunks- and took a sporkfull of each of the dishes on the sliver tray.
*I have a taster* Trunks though, *How...encouraging*
The man straightened, then nodded, indication he tasted no poison in the meal. They stood there, unmoving, watching him with black eyes. Trunks shivered. He didn't want an audience while he ate and dressed.
"I don't need your help with eating or dressing," Trunks said firmly, dismissing the servants, in the way Parsnal had made him practise. They bowed to him in turn, and left the room single file, the girl last.
"Thank you." Trunks said politely as they left. The men stopped and bowed again, and a look of surprise, no, shock, crossed the girl's face. She forgot whom she was serving for a moment and looked up into his face, then scuttled out red cheeked. Trunks realised she wasn't as young as he thought, but was probably in her mid twenties, just short, and to thin.
Trunks ate, then looked at the clothes in distaste. He would rather wear his own clothes, or something of the servants, because wearing this royal garb he would be very conspicuous. *Well, with this hair* Thought Trunks, *What's the point?* He dressed in the clothes she'd provided, and was struggling with the clasp of his royal blue cloak when his escort arrived.
"Parsnal!" He exclaimed, and grinned, as the only familiar face in this place walked in the door.
"Hello, my Prince." Parsnal bowed, not as low as anyone else had been bowing, and more informal, done out of duty when neither party saw any need.
"Are you the escort?" Trunks asked, as he finally got the clasp sorted out. *Good,* he thought, when Parsnal nodded. *He'll be too occupied talking about everything I'll be able to get a proper look around. The more I know this place, the easier it will be to get home, or even send a message.*
"If you are ready, then we'll go. We have to make a stop before we get the tour underway. You'll excuse the lack of procession, but many of the officials only flew in for Your Majesty's welcome, and flew back to their home fronts, riots and the like had to be kept under control." Parsnal beckoned for them to begin walking down the long and lonely corridor, as he explained the planets state, and the empty corridors that had been brimming with activity the night before. It sounded a bit like a seesaw, thought Trunks as he spoke, both sides not heavy enough to shift the others weight, yet of one backs down the other rises.
"There are two groups, the Rebels, and the smaller but equally powerful group of the Planet Vegita's Council. The Rebels are unruly in the most part, but their riots are terribly organised, they have a leader- the Rat, the Council has named him- in their midst somewhere, he's yet to be found. Once the Rat has been executed the Rebels will fall into a state of disarray, giving the Council time to squash the rebels flat before a new Rat rises.
"Riots, strikes, raids of the Council Houses in each city, have diminished our profits made from the few groups who are still willing to work. Your Majesty knows of our work, of course, no planets have been pillaged or raided since the Rebels, our main working force, began rebellion against the Council.
"These rebels must be gotten under control, as the Arkosian people, who supply most of our technology, are demanding more money than we have to give them, not with the Rat to disrupt the workers. The Council's power is not strong enough to force them to work, not so many. It is though that they rebel because of the Council, many dislike their methods and are not powerful enough to usurp the Council's seats, but powerful enough to cause great havoc. We are hoping having a Prince on the Throne will change this."
"If the Arkosian people are not paid by this mid-year, they will declare a state of war on our planet, one we are sure to loose if the Rebels still roam free, the Arkosian technology is far greater than ours" Parsnal spat, hating the weakness of his planet he was admitting, "their numbers exceed ours also, and in the streets it is said the Rat has an alliance with the Arkosian Emperor. The Council cannot victor over both the Arkosian's and the Rat's Rebels."
"Most officials will return for Your Majesty's coronation ceremony tonight." Parsnal finished shortly, as if annoyed, after giving the longest speech Trunks had heard from him in a long while. Trunks was relived, a procession was the last thing he wanted, and they both were aware of it.
Trunks walked in front of Parsnal, as a matter of rank and tradition the man enforced, Trunks had to stop at each intersection in the halls for a signal of which way to next turn, and there were many.
It took little over a few minutes, minutes of thoughtful silence, to get to where Parsnal was leading -though he was leading from behind- A door adjoining the Palace to another very impressive building, Trunks could see the long walk from that house, that mansion, raised on impressive looking supports, through the glass wall looking out onto the was-probably-a-lawn-once that lay between. The walk was not made of glass, although it had a few windows, someone, or many someone's, were walking down it.
Parsnal knocked heavily on the door, his fist clanging against the metal as his knuckle-guards hit it. The door was opened by one of the invisible slaves Trunks only noticed because he wasn't trained not to, and a woman Trunks vaguely recognised stepped out. High, defined cheek bones, and a nose constantly looked down by two very dark eyes; she had been at the front of the crowd when he'd first arrived. Her daughter stepped out from behind her and they both curtsied.
"Prince Vegita, you will remember Madam Maroda, highest Lady of our city, and her daughter, Mistress Lushka." Parsnal introduced the pair. "Lushka will be joining our tour."
Madam Maroda sailed up to Parsnal and wrapped long slim arms around him. "My lord Parsnal, you have been absent from my life for ever so long. You know I would have followed you to Eaa-arth in your search, as my body follows my heart and my heart is bound to you wherever you may wander, for all the eternities. But for the care of my loved child I would have joined you." She poured verbal honey in his ears, then leaned closer and whispered. "Allow me to make it up to you tonight."
Trunks was ten, he couldn't take it. He turned to Lushka, poked two fingers down his throat and gagged silently, showing his disgust, he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, the message clear; Gross!
Lushka looked absolutely appalled. Her eyes were wide and she nearly took a step backwards from him, so unused to this behaviour was she. It passed, and she stifled a giggle with a finely gloved hand.
Encouraged, Trunks put a hand on his throat and mimed strangling himself, Lushka had to try even harder to prevent the giggles from escaping. Parsnal turned round and glared at him, Trunks stopped.
The tour began, and with it a friendship that would change lives.