The Royal Mishap

Chapter One

I kept myself locked in my room, skipping dinner, and breakfast the next day. I decide to come out around lunch time, and I decide I'd act extra grumpy, and even rude, so that the wicked king would give me another chance to become the heir.

Which, he wouldn't.

Moving on.

As I step out of my room, I could notice something clearly different about the hall. I couldn't figure out what at the moment, but there was something eerie about the hall.

I walk to the staircase, proceeding to run down. As I reach the bottom, I saw a familiar guard, who quickly bows.

"Father?" I question him, flinching at the word.

The guard stomps his feet twice, and then robotically points to the left. I nod a thank you and walk over to the door. The guards, bow, and open the door.

I step in, and the temperature drops suddenly. Just radiating the king in it.

"Father." I say, sharply, bowing. He eyes me and nods. I adjust my posture and say, "I will be the king."

"Hmm." The wicked king taps his chin, "No. Not without my permission."

"If... if I get back from the mission, can... can I be the heir?" I pur, remembering to be 'polite'.

The wicked king blinks at me for a moment, leaving me in suspense. "Fine." He finally says.

Joy overwhelms me, I kneel, "Thank you. Thank you!"

"Eat and leave."

I get up slowly, bowing again, and rush out of the door, heading to the dining hall. As I enter, the first thing I notice was Martina. She was perched on one of the seats, her hands eagerly waiting for the yet-to-come food. I walk in, biting my lip.

Martina turns her head towards me, and shook it vigorously, "Nijel, I'm sorry."

I ignore her. Let her feel guilt. She deserves it! I take a seat, maintaining my posture, trying to look petty.

She sighs deeply, "I'm really, really sorry. I talked to Papa again. He... he agreed on letting you be the heir if you got in time. I really tried."

I squint at her face, studying it. I immediately found an unfamiliar scar settled on her face. I grew worried.

"What's..?" I trail off, pointing to her cheek, where her scar lay.

She shook her head, smiling to herself. "A sacrifice for my brother."

I look at her for a split second, processing it. As I realize, I get up, banging my hand on the table. I was going to scream, but then I saw the servants, and whisper-screamed, "He did that to you?!"

Martina gulps, "It's nothing. It barely hurts."

"'Barely?!' What the hell! This is not okay, Martina!" I say, as a young girl places the food on the table, trembling at my tone. I look at the girl sympathetically, "Sorry."

The girl gasps, her eyes tensed. She bows and runs away.

Martina chuckles, "That's Louise."

"Why are you-?" I try.

"She works in the kitchen. She's scared most of the time. She, I guess, must be from an abusive background. She has serious trauma. No one does anything about it. They just tell her to shut up and stop crying. I got to know her a few days ago. She's really cute."

"Why are you trying to change the subject?!"

"There's nothing more to talk about. Now sit down and eat." Martina says, serving herself some meat and beans.

I sit down, but I would not let it go. I serve myself some fresh river fish, and stew, speaking and multi-tasking as I go, "What-" bite- "Did he-" swallow- "do?!" munch.

"Chew, don't talk. Etiquette." Martina looks at me sternly, stopping and chewing her food.

"I'm not letting it go- "slurp- "So easily!"

Martina sighs, shaking her head, eating her own food.

"Come on!"

"He didn't do anything, Nijel. Just... just pack your bags and go."

"As if!" I yell, chewing and choking.

"Just go. Please." Martina says, taking her last bite of meat and beans.

I clench my fists, finishing of my meal, leaving plenty remaining even though I was starving.

"I'll ask Lizz to pack your bags." She gets up from the table, walking away quickly.

"Martina!"

An hour passes. I was given a bottle of water, three apples, fresh clothes, and of course, a map. I am also provided a gorgeous black stallion, Bucephalus. Yes, my Father has just stolen the name from Alexander the Great's horse. Guess the horse does resemble Bucephalus in one way or another.

It's windy (which described, yet again how I felt: relieved and anxious) when I take off, and Bucephalus gallops fiercely towards the North. I hold on tight, grasping the map even tighter. I'm afraid if I didn't slow Bucephalus down, then we would miss our other routes. So, I try. I try my best to stop the horse at least a bit, but the horse had such an attitude.

I was to scream and pull and tug for it to slow down.

"Good. Finally you stopped. Now let me see the map, you stupid horse." I say bitterly, opening the map to view the directions.

As if in response, Bucephalus whinies.

"North for another few kilometers? Damn it. Stops...?" I mutter to myself. "Ah-ha! There's a nice place to stop by, some hotel of sorts?"

The horse neighs.

"Oh shut it. Stop being so-" it took off. Dumb horse, I grab onto him just in time. "You wretched horse! Stop!"

It did not stop.

And I did not stop screaming. "DUMB HORSE, STOP! BAD HORSE! BA-AD! WHY, YOU!"

I grind my teath, and hold on to the harnace with one hand. Then, I try pulling on the reins, but it leads to no effect. Why was this horse not stopping?

"Gaah!" I yell. When that didn't work, I decide to parent it, "Bucephalus, stop. Or else I will jump off right now!"

Yes, I knew it couldn't understand me, but if God handles the weather based on me, then I bet God could make the horse stop.

And you know what? God is always with me!

Why? Because the horse slowed down.