Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 3: 3. The Rot

3. The Rot I am Ren Drakemore, age 5, and I am the unwanted second prince of the kingdom of Arcadia. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/94d9f12d-768f-4ec3-a12d-51b487be4617 "Good morning, young master. Time for breakfast." Lady Willow’s voice is as gentle on my ears as my silken pillow is against my head. I slowly open my eyes to find a visage of serene beauty, with brilliant blue eyes and flawless porcelain skin, smiling down at me as she sits at the edge of my bed. I smile and pause for a moment, taking in the graceful sight of Lady Willow before sitting up. Her lavender scent drifts toward me. This is a pretty good way to wake up . "Good morning," I mumble through a yawn, stretching my arms above my head. As comfortable as my bed may be, its allure is nothing compared to what today promises. Today is the day I’ve been waiting for. I eagerly dress myself and skip down the spiral staircase to the second floor of the tower, where Lady Willow has placed breakfast on the large dining table. Most days, I find eating alone at a banquet table built to seat guests I’ll never host… depressing. I usually carry my meals to the couch and bury my thoughts in a book rather than face the vast emptiness of that grand table. Why do we even have a table this size, when we both know I’ll never have company? But today is different. Today is exciting and new. Today, Lady Willow is finally letting me leave the castle with her. She has never allowed it before. "For your own safety," she always says. More than once, I’ve tried to run for it, sprinting through the castle halls like a bird that just discovered its wings. But it never lasted. It’s impossible to outrun someone with inhuman speed and an uncanny sense of exactly where I am at all times. I excitedly scarf down my plate of sausages, eggs, and toast. I know we aren't leaving until later, but I rush through my routine anyway, as if moving faster will somehow make the time pass more quickly. Lady Willow sits beside me with her usual regal posture, watching with an amused smile. As always, she's immaculate, her gown unwrinkled, her silver hair perfectly in place. But there’s no plate before her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her eat. I assume the fae don’t eat human food. "Thank you for breakfast, Willow!" I say, pushing my empty plate away and hopping to my feet. "Of course, young master," she replies with a small nod, her voice as melodic as harp notes. I wipe the remnants of the meal from my lips with my sleeve, the savory taste of Willow’s cooking still lingering on my tongue. She silently nudges my napkin a little closer. Her cooking is surprisingly good for someone who doesn’t eat. "You are very welcome," she says, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Now, please begin your studies. You'll have less time today because of our errands, but that is no excuse to slack off." "Yes ma'am," I said as I down a glass of water and rush down the staircase to the first-floor workshop. The first floor is a single, large circular room with the spiral staircase at its center. Every inch of the walls is lined with shelves stuffed to bursting with books, thousands of them, stacked not just on the shelves but also in haphazard piles on the floor. The furniture is an eclectic mix of tables, chairs, couches, and cabinets, each seemingly plucked from a different time and place. There’s no rhyme or reason to their placement; it's as if someone simply dropped them into the room at random. On the tables and desks are even more books, along with magical tools, strange bits of equipment, and crafting materials. At first glance, it looks like complete chaos. And it is. The cluttered nature of my workshop is the result of Lady Willow’s tireless efforts to tutor me across an overwhelming range of subjects: magic, alchemy, history, anatomy, and even military strategy. Each discipline has claimed its own corner of the room. The scattered tables are like islands in a sea of knowledge, each one de