I was awoken by the gentle knocks of my personal servant, Gerard.
"Come in," I said tiredly, sitting up in my bed.
The door to my bedroom opened slowly. Gerard, a tall, thin man with graying hair, strided in, a silver tray holding my breakfast held up by his nimble fingers.
"Your breakfast, sir," Gerard said, placing the tray on the desk at my bedside.
"Be sure you aren't putting it on my papers," I said, sitting upright and stretching. "You'll soil them."
Gerard moved some papers away from below the tray. "I apologize, sir." He then left without another word, closing the door to my bedroom behind him.
I eyed my sword leaning against the headboard of my bed. I picked it up, still trying to get used to the feel. I had only started last month, and I very much needed the extra practice. I practiced the lunge, making sure I had the footwork correct. I jabbed an an invisible opposer, dodging his imaginary thrusts and pretending to disarm him. I bowed in victory, and finished getting ready for the day.
I picked out a cream-colored suit and a blue sash, along with my favorite black shoes. Before I left my bedroom, I looked in the mirror and brushed out my outfit so it had no wrinkles. I left my bedroom, but no sooner did my father come down the hall towards me, surrounded by servants awaiting his commands.
"Fredrick!" he said excitedly, outstretching his arms. "So glad you finally came out! I was worried you never would!"
"Good morning, Father," I said cheerily.
"Listen, my son," my father said, grasping my shoulders with a stern expression. "I have something very important for you to do."
"What kind of important?" I asked, trying not to sound aggressive.
"Important like sampling cheeses for your coronation. You know how important food is for such a celebration?"
"Oh," I said. "Well, don't you mean throne choosing?" I managed a weak chuckle.
"Oh, what's the difference?" My father patted me playfully on the shoulder. "Now go to the banquet hall, the cheeses won't taste themselves!" My father strided down the hall with a laugh. I looked to the end of the corridor where the doors to the banquet hall stood ajar.
I saw about twenty types of expensive cheeses with a small plate of grapes on the edge of the grand table upon entering. I took a small bite of each, disliking a good number of them, especially the blue cheese. However, when I tasted sample eighteen, I was quite fond of it, and set it aside. After I was done, I left the room thankfully, taking the plate of grapes with me.
"So, how were the cheeses?" my father said, seemingly coming from nowhere.
"Alright, I guess," I replied with a mere shrug.
"He doesn't like them, Gerard. Take them away."
"Not sample eighteen, Gerard!" I called out to him as he was about to open the banquet doors. He acknowledged me with a slight nod and disappeared behind the doors.
"Oh, so you liked eighteen?" my father asked, breaking the short moment of silence.
"Yes," I said. "It was the only one I remotely enjoyed."
"Alright," my father said quietly. He then took a deep breath. "I suppose we'll use those ones, then."
I nodded. A few long seconds passed, and I hoped something would break the awkward silence. Thankfully, the banquet doors swung open, and Gerard reappeared, sample eighteen in his hands.
"Here you go, sir," he said, placing the tray into my arms.
"Thank you," I said quietly. I then proceeded to walk back to my room.
"Don't forget there's sword practice soon!" my father said.
"I won't!" I replied without looking back.
I continued down the hall until I was at my bedroom door. When I opened it, the first thing I saw was a set of odd-looking muddy tracks that went from my bedside to my closet. It was the tracks of some kind of animal, but they were alien.
"What...?" was all I could say. I scrambled over to my desk and pulled out a pen and blank parchment. I sketched the prints carefully.
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"What could it be from?" I said to myself, continuing to observe the tracks. Perhaps it was the animal that left the little circular pellets at the foot of my bed yesterday.
"Don't forget there's sword practice soon!" My father's words replayed themselves in my head.
"I'll figure it out later," I said to myself as I grabbed my sword. ♦♦♦ "About time you showed up, son," my father said upon me entering the combat room, not moving from his stance. "Alright, Fredrick, today we're going to face off. Don't worry, I'll take it easy on you."
I nodded. He bowed and said,
"On guard, Fredrick."
He lunged at me, and I dodged it using my sword. I then twisted around and attempted to slice across his stomach, but he parried and jabbed at my gut. I barely avoided it by leaning away, and I swung my leg under his foot in an attempt to trip him. He fell, and I held my sword to his throat.
"Well done, Fredrick," my father said. "Now help me up."
I took his outstretched arm and hoisted them up. It went on like this for hours, and by the end, we were both exhausted.
"Well done, my son," my father said between deep breaths. "You can retire to your quarters. Dinner will be waiting there." ♦♦♦ I stood at the balcony connected to my quarters, halfheartedly eating my dinner of bread with beef gravy sauce. I watched the whole kingdom from below, but I couldn't see much because the Border overshadowed most of the town. What I could see was the wavering presence of courtyard labourers trimming trees and bushes. I watched one manoeuvre the shears in a delicate fashion to form a crown. I looked out farther to become almost eye level with the Border. What was on the other side, anyways?
"Strange creatures," my father had always told me. "Strange creatures you should never bother to know about. There's a reason there's a huge stone wall between us."
I couldn't help but be curious about these "creatures". Were they dangerous? Maybe that was why. They used to terrorize us so our people, being wise, built a humongous wall protecting us from the savages.
