Into The Orchard

XXII

We were lined up, right in front of a long, ornate and red carpet on one of the top floors of this majestic building. We stood completely as if we were just before assembly for physical education class. Unlike class, we were not dressed in gym clothes, but in the best suits we had. It seemed to me that Andy hadn't had time to wash his jacket of the traces of Kevin's blood, because he only wore a vest that was as white as his fur coat and the rest of his clothing. Wilhelm stood closest to the tinted glass front door. This was because he had achieved first place in the previous competition. Further away stood Andy. The white wolf seemed to be completely uninterested in meeting the future monarch of the state. I don't think I need to explain what made the teenager not in the mood for anything. At the end, however, stood me. Only now did I begin to realize that an ornate suit might not have been the right choice for meeting Prince Malcolm himself. William was dressed all in black, or dark blue. Andy, of course, in white, and me...well, just spiffy. The more I realized that the prince is not a celebrity at all, but a real politician whose actions are accountable only to God, history, and nowadays society, I started to get stressed. The tension was heightened by the fact of the assembled journalists. These had already taken many pictures of us before Prince Malcolm even crossed the moving, dark door leading into this room. There were also another two bodyguards, and some person who was probably someone important from the Prince's entourage. For she was saying something to the journalists, giving them directions. So did we. This man hinted at the proper way to greet the future king. His advice matched exactly what Apolonia had told me earlier. It puzzled me how she could know how to behave in the company of someone around the throne.

All indications were that his princely highness would arrive late. No one, of course, held it against him, which, however, to me, was a kind of... what would you call it? An insult? I'm not sure that's the right word. We were not the only ones waiting for the prince to arrive. There were a few invited guests who were also awaiting his majesty's arrival and who were standing, I think, behind a tinted glass window.

The minutes seemed to drag on forever, and my legs were already starting to hurt from standing upright. My torment was about to end, however, because I heard the man who was advising us pick up the phone and ask only with the caller in the receiver, "Already?" Shortly after, he put the phone in his suit pocket and turned to the journalists:

- Dear members of the media, His Royal Highness, Prince Malcolm will be here in just a few moments.

- When will the press conference be held? - A man asked quickly, clutching something like a recorder in his hands. It was a Labrador, looking very ordinary. But something about him interested me. His face seemed quite familiar to me, but I could not remember where I had seen him before. Maybe it just seemed that way to me.

- Yes... - The man in the suit started. - At your request, and especially at your request Michael, there will be a short press conference with the contestants after dinner. - Said the man, addressing the labrador journalist directly.

In fact, there was no question of any press conference. I have never given any interviews or been asked to speak to any topic before. However, I was not surprised by this. The press conference after the meeting between the teenagers and the prince, I guess, added spice to the press, radio or television. I don't know what those journalists were expecting. Maybe they were just hoping for a few words from us about how ungrateful we are for the chance to meet a member of the royal family.

Soon, however, the tinted glass door opened, completely unexpectedly. With a quick step, a man in a black suit and sunglasses emerged from them. He positioned himself somewhere off to the side and began to speak:

- His Royal Highness, Prince of the Foothills Region and Western Territories, Prince Malcolm.

Then all the cameras began to bring out dozens, if not hundreds, of flashes of light from the flashguns. They were aiming directly at the door from which the heir to the throne himself began to emerge. At first, the flash of the lights obscured the entire silhouette of the man. All I could see was that he was tall. He was very tall. To my eye, he was much taller than Rayan, who was a very tall boy himself to me. Soon, however, as the figure got closer, I began to notice other features of his appearance. At first, his attire was revealed to me. To my surprise, the Prince did not clothe himself in royal robes, but in a suit, not much different from the one William wore. What distinguished him, however, was that there were several medals pinned to the Prince's chest. I wondered if he received them from the mere fact of being born into a privileged, narrow social group or for his actual achievements. Soon, however, I was able to see his face, hands and tail as well. If I hadn't held back, I probably would have opened my mouth in astonishment. That's when I thought that I was incredibly ignorant after all. I should at least check out what this prince looks like so I wouldn't have a surprise. And the surprise was indeed huge.