The Servant Queen

Ronny

I froze. In front of me, I saw Walter leaning sideways on a tree looking at my direction.

"Ronny?" said Walter. "You're fine?"

I didn't know how to respond. My hands were still holding on the horse's snout. Was he mistaking me for the bandit? Or was that the horse's name? I don't know, and I shouldn't care. I needed to hurry away before he notices that I was the servant from earlier. He took a step forward.

"Thank Go--" Walter fell to his knees and his palms were on the ground. He started coughing in terrible pain. "I got shot, Ronny. You gotta help me."

His once-white waistcoat was soaked in blood. And here, I thought he avoided the bullets...

I started to warily walk towards him, out of the tree's shadow and into the moonlight. I shouldn't be afraid of the half-dead bandit. My feet dragged across the ground, and I tried not to wince in pain. My curiosity was getting the better of me again.

As he looked up at me with empty eyes, I had a strong temptation to kick him into the dirt. But then again, he was already in pain.

"What the hell? You're...you aren't Ronny," he said.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Green eyes..." he whispered to himself. He glared at me. "Where's Ronny, servant?"

"You saw it, yet you still deny it. Your friend is gone," I said.

For a fleeting second, I saw his eyes widen in surprise before becoming normal again. I felt awful for him.

He pressed his palm on his sweaty forehead and laughed. "Oh...yeah—yeah I know. I just can't seem to think straight. You know, 'cause of this blood loss. Haha."

I saw a sword on his belt. There were three words engraved on it. It said: The Sea Beyond.

"I want answers for what you did today." I quickly pulled out his unexpectedly heavy sword, stepped back, and pointed it at him.

He didn't flinched. "You mean: why I halted the servant wagon?"

I nodded, but I doubt that he could see me clearly from the dark. My hands trembled. I shouldn't be afraid. He's nearly dead.

He looked at his wounds, then at the sword.

"Oh, well. I'm going to die either way. Truth is that I wanted to get a servant girl to act as my younger sister."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What type of sick joke is that?"

"You're taking it in the wrong way." He scoffed with a weak smile.

"In what way am I suppose to take it?!"

"I doubt a servant could read a newspaper to know that the youngest prince of Central City is looking for a wife."

I looked at the words on the sword once more.

"Servants aren't allowed to learn how to read."

"My point exactly."

His elbows buckled, and he laid on the ground. He breathed heavily.

"If I had a younger sister, she would be eligible to be a candidate wife for Prince Charles since I'm a noble. But, I don't have a sister... at least not anymore. Instead of hiring someone, I need a servant girl. The benefit to have a servant is that they are people without background—without history. They"-cough-"can't be tracked down, and they could disappear easily. I wanted a servant girl who could act as an insider to give me information of secret events and if caught there won't be consequences for me or family members."

I don't believe him. I ran away multiple times, and I was tracked down and sent back to my masters quickly.

"I don't believe that's the reason you halted a servant wagon."

"You all weren't owned by anyone at that exact moment. The eastern region is the only region that ships servants to their masters with minimal security. It had all the perfect conditions."

"You chose the youngest girl servant. Why not someone older and more capable?"

I saw the moon shining in his eyes. "Because the younger the servant, the easier it is to drill information and commands in their little fearful head."

I stabbed the sword into the soft ground. "You really are sick..."

He laughed in pain, quietly.

"Man...I was just joking. There wasn't that much variety in this servant shipment anyways. Mostly girls over the age limit, old hags, men. And it's not like Prince Charles hates young girls. He's quite the pedophile."

He winked.

"Why didn't you choose me? Am I ugly? Is that it?"

"Don't take it too personal. You look..." He looked at me for a few seconds, "...fine. It's just that, I can't stand your eyes and hair."

He was bleeding out from his wounds from earlier yet he was still abled to laugh and smile. I was curious how he tried to act so indifferent to everything around him when he truly does care about the dead bandit.

His breathing started to slow down.

"It's funny. 'Cause now...I have less of a variety." His voice was softer and weaker. "In exchange for all this information I gave you..."

I kneeled down.

"Can you..." His eyes slowly fluttered close, "become my little sister instead?"

He fell into unconsciousness.

••

••

..

..

.

'
.
'
....      ...    . . .    ...      ....