The Royal Curse

Thirty Five - A Superior Meeting

Kace Holland

As I tied off my boots, the ship jolted to a stop. After five days of continuous sailing, we finally docked at Superior Island—the chunk of land that officially belonged to no one, and hosted Superior Meetings between all countries if they chose to attend.

I had a feeling many countries would be here tonight. I was on trial. Apparently, killing your father in front of everyone was not entirely legal.

No country wanted to miss the downfall of a great Holland. Fortunately for me, I had a tasteful, long, black coat on, with a black belt at the waist, and black leather boots to speak to my class. That, paired with black leather gloves to combat the sheer coolness of the beach at night would surely ward off any potential consequences.

The wooden mirror in front of me creaked as the anchor of the ship dropped. Behind me, word-filled parchments swayed.

I should burn those. Burn them quickly.

My fingers rimmed the edge of the parchments, imagining... No. No, I was not imagining such things. Grabbing the papers, I scrunched them into a ball and stormed to the dimly-lit kerosene lamp.

Though I thought to let the paper fall, my hand refused.

Just drop it. Why would it even matter? Why was it so difficult for me to let those meaningless letters burn?

A knock at the door brought me back to my senses. I shoved all the letters into a drawer in the desk and called out, "Come in."

"We've docked, King Kace. I can escort you down to the Hall," Mallor informed me, his outfit a similar black, though for entirely different reasons.

"Yes, you should probably do that," I muttered admittedly, walking up next to him.

He gave me a sideways glance as we stepped up to the deck. The crew members all diverted their attention, suddenly finding the wooden floors very appealing. At that, I nearly scoffed, but at the corner of my sight, a red-haired girl in crew attire gave me a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh, come now. Surely you all don't think they'd actually prosecute me, right?" I announced to the crew.

They didn't look up.

A gust of cool air splayed my golden hair out of place. With one hand, I fixed my hair, and with another, I stopped the moving mop in a crew member's grip. "I am not a criminal."

"King Kace, please don't ask us for our opinions on the matter."

The faraway stars shone bright, illuminating the man's frail figure. Signing, I let go of the mop and gestured for Mallor. "You're right. Your opinion wouldn't be of importance, anyway."

The man sharply swallowed.

Political figures swarmed into the Hall, each distinctly dressed. The norm in the Western Continents was to wear black, though the attire varied based on which country. The Eastern Continents dressed formally, though nothing was the same across their countries.

King Sartyr and Prince Alice wore black suits, the dragon crest silver and loudly placed over their right chest as they walked down from the ship to our right.