The Colonial Heart ✓ (Editing)

Chapter 23

                         W I L L I A M

As I stood a mile outside the village, marveling at the exotic wildlife that was a far cry from Britain's rolling hills, the sound of galloping horses broke the serenity.

I turned to behold a churning cloud of dust, my heart sinking as our family's crest emblazoned on the carriage came into view. This carriage was reserved for one person alone - Reginald, my father's most trusted commander. What ever was he doing here?

Reginald emerged from the carriage with an air of superiority, his tall, lean frame radiating an aura of disdain.

His smile, a thin-lipped mockery, was directed at me as I approached him. "William, my good sir, it's been an eternity," he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

I shook his hand, forcing a smile to hide my revulsion.

"Reginald, what brings you to this corner of the world?" I asked, my tone laced with bitterness.

"Your father and I have deemed your progress here...underwhelming," he replied, his gaze sweeping the village with disdain.

"Two months is an eternity, William. You should have had these people eating out of the palm of your hand by now."

I bristled at his tone. "That was not the objective, Reginald. We are here to secure the minerals and land, not enslave the locals." My voice rose, despite my efforts to maintain a measured tone.

Reginald's glare silenced me. "I am taking control of this operation, William. Your presence is requested back home. Immediately." His words were laced with an unspoken threat.

I refused to back down. "I will not leave. This is my responsibility." Reginald's expression turned glacial.

"You have no say in this, William. I will not tolerate defiance, you will leave for home when we have finished our operations here, I will just be a 'helping hand' for the time being."

With that, he turned on his heel, retreated into his carriage, and departed, leaving me seething in his wake

I seethed as Reginald's carriage vanished into the distance, my mind reeling with indignation. Two months was an impossible deadline, a ridiculous expectation. And now, they wanted me back home? To marry that insipid, wretched woman? The thought made my blood boil.

I kicked at the dirt, feeling a surge of anger and frustration. If Reginald took control, Ama would soon discover the true purpose of our presence here. Our blossoming relationship would be doomed. I couldn't bear the thought of losing her.

I sank to the ground, disregarding my expensive trousers, and clenched a fistful of my hair.

"May his carriage be struck by lightning,"

I muttered, feeling hopeless and trapped. As a prince, I'd always been told what to do, but now I realized I had no control over my own destiny.

My eyes fell on a glass shard that was sparkling in the sunlight and I could not help but remember a memory that had haunted me during my years of being a boy...

8 years prior

Reginald's voice cut through the air, his words dripping with disdain. "Your form is laughable, child. Hold your chin high, chest out, and swing the sword with conviction. Show some semblance of backbone!"

I struggled to maintain my grip on the sword, its weight bearing down on me like a physical manifestation of my inadequacy. "I'm trying, but it is too heavy..."

Reginald's sneer deepened. "Heavy? Ha! This kingdom will crumble beneath your feet if you are its future ruler." With a fluid motion, he drew his sword, its blade glinting in the sunlight like a razor's edge. "Come, let us see if you' are worthy of wielding a sword."

I hesitated, fear creeping up my spine like a chill. "I-I'm not ready yet..."

But Reginald was unforgiving. He charged at me, his sword flashing in the sunlight with deadly precision.

I raised my sword to block the blow, but the force of the impact sent me crashing to the ground, the wind knocked from my lungs. I yelped in pain and fear as Reginald loomed over me, his sword raised for another strike.

Somehow, I scrambled to my feet, our swords clashing in a flurry of steel and sparks. But Reginald was a master swordsman, his skill honed to perfection.

With one powerful swing, he sent my sword flying from my hand. I stumbled backward, desperate to escape, but Reginald was relentless. His sword sliced through the air, biting deep into my back.

I cried out in agony, stumbling forward as Reginald's words cut deeper than his sword.

"You should never turn your back on your opponent, child. That's the most important rule in battle."

As I fell to my knees, clutching my wounded back, Reginald's voice dripped with malice.

"You will go without food for a week, and if you dare sulk to your father, it will be two weeks. Now get out of my sight!"

Despite a long ugly scar that painted my back ,I had recovered, I still had resentment to swordsmanship but over time I mastered it, how could I not when that man was at my neck every day of my life...

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