The Orange Monarch

The Orange Monarch was a peculiar character. Every high-ranking official in the palace was somewhat peculiar, but among them all, the Orange Monarch was the one who seemed so out of place and yet precisely where he needed to be.

The Imperial Palace swarmed with a variety of officials and titleholders, most of them got the position due to the fortune of good lineage or wealth, after all, nepotism and plutocracy were the two preferred ways of promoting talent into the ranks of the palace residents.

The Orange Monarch was the second son of a mediocre merchant, a commoner if you will. But people of higher status bowed in his presence.

And I had the pleasure and honor to witness his greatness from the proximity most would envy -- I served him tea.

I would get up early every morning and start preparing his favorite beverage, the Orange spiced tea. A blend of spices such as cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves mixed with honey, black tea, and the signature ingredient, orange zest. It was a family recipe and a reason for his nickname. Well, that and his preference for wearing orange clothing or decorating his office with objects usually in color tones of light brown or faded orange. He simply liked orange and let´s leave it at that.

I would serve him his first brew at dawn break. I would learn to read his hand waves, tongue clicks, or eyebrow raises as signs of command. Wave to come in, click to stop pouring, his to scour back quickly not to disturb his string of thought. He wouldn't talk, not until his first guest had arrived.

Tea ceremonies were an essential part of the day, and the Orange Monarch would drink many cups of his favorite. Strangely, he would always offer his guests simple green tea and a sweet snack, usually sesame seed balls.

Another guest arrived, the chief tax collector. His visits were frequent these last couple of months. I led him to the office, where they bowed and sat down.

The chief tax collector would sit down, and upon seeing The Orange Monarch nod, would start explaining the reasons why the tax revenues were declining and how he was unable to turn the trend around.

The Orange Monarch would listen, patiently, silently, without interrupting the speaker. His inscrutable expression alone would discourage anyone from speaking any falsehoods. His towering presence, stoic calm, and strange charisma stripped his opponents of any advantage they might have thought they had.

When the tax collector finished his monologue The Orange Monarch wouldn´t respond immediately, as if giving his guest the time to think or add to his case. Only after a moment of brief silence, interrupted only by the sound of sipping tea, would he start talking.

“I understand, “he would say, and then add: “I´ll see what I can do. “As if to reassure his guest.

You might think to yourself: But hey, that was just an empty expression saying absolutely nothing! And you would be wrong. What the Orange Monarch said, he meant.

Sometimes that would result in devising new methods, changes in processes, or opting for investments in the right places. But in this case, the result was just the change of the Chief tax collector.

There was one problem The Orange Monarch struggled with since I started serving him. The problem of poverty in the Imperial capital. While the few in the palace and surrounding quarters lived comfortable lives, behind the walls the rest of the population lived in grueling conditions.

I came from those slums and knew that my only salvation was being whisked up from the clutches of poverty to serve tea to the Orange Monarch.

But it wasn´t the man I served tea to who picked me up, no. It was another man dressed in purple, the royal color.

I couldn´t question the man for he had saved me, and while serving tea and snacks to another might seem to many just as insignificant as staying in the streets, it wasn´t.

A wave of a hand, a sign to come closer. That had never happened before without guests present.

I came closer, step upon step, advancing deferentially towards the Orange Monarch. His palm was up and pointing towards a sitting pillow on the other side of a low table right across. I was meant to sit down.

“You are from the lower city if I recall correctly.“ His normally stern voice was gone. It was warm and sweet as if laced with honey on a summer evening.

Such a beautiful voice.

He awaited my response with his usual patience with a previously unseen difference. A subtle smile, previously hidden, revealed a part of him only the closest few ever had the chance to witness.

I wanted to admire this side of him longer, but gazing at him would be disrespectful, so I broke the spell and answered simply: „Yes.“

„What was your life before coming into the palace?“

I had no chance to recover, his question had a purpose, this wasn´t just a polite conversation without merit, or so I thought. Answering honestly, truthfully, that was what he wanted, needed.

But the answer wasn´t an easy one. I had to muster the courage and delve deep to recall the memories I hoped I had lost but knew I never could.

„I don´t remember much, not anymore. I left it all beyond the wall.“

Stare. A minute of silence. His expression changed again, darkened.

„You can go.“

…

The next few days were the busiest ones yet. The Orange Monarch worked unrelentingly as the palace officials came and went in droves.

His usual calmness disappeared on occasion as ferocious passion claimed control over his actions. His consumption of Orange spiced tea reached new heights in those days and I saw him smile more often.

Those days weren't always just busy. Many protestors came of their own accord to argue about the new project the Orange Monarch had started working on. I couldn´t grasp the importance of some of the guests until I saw the man in purple. The same man who picked me up to be trained as a palace servant.

He was the last one to visit that day, leaving the gift of special spices with me to serve the Orange Monarch later. I nodded in understanding, as he placed the pouch in my hands. Then he smiled and left.

Moments later, the Orange Monarch came to with a request. “Make me my favorite brew and make it for two.”

I didn´t question him. I did as he commanded and upon his now familiar gesture, I sat down to join him for a hot Orange spiced tea.

He wanted to talk. It was written all over his normally unreadable face.

“You reminded me of the reason I craved the power all those years ago. I was selfish, I wanted to save myself from the misery of poverty.” He sipped the tea; I did the same.

He continued: “Once I was given the chance I vowed to work diligently for the service of the emperor and his subjects. But I always thought only of those of the Imperial palace, and my thoughts never once went towards the people needing my help the most.” He sipped once more; I did the same.

*Cough* “Not until now that is.”

“Once we are finished, the world beyond the palace walls will change, and my work here will finally have some meaning for common people out there.” He sipped for the third time; I sipped for the third time as well.

*Cough* The Orange Monarch raised his eyebrow and tasted the tea again. ”It tastes somewhat bitter today, ”he said as he tried to lick away the bitter aftertaste of today´s brew.

It was truly a blessing serving such a great man, and today I could finally repay my debt to him. I served the tea to the man in Orange, as he asked. That was the only thing that he asked of me.

*Cough. The Orange Monarch´s head dropped to the floor with a thud. His eyes were fixed on me, mouth open as he desperately tried to make a sound -- he couldn´t.

I gulped the rest of the tea watching him fade away. I drank the same batch.

I wanted to say I am sorry. I wanted to say I didn´t want to do it.

I opened my mouth and realized.

It would be a lie.

*Cough.