DisPLACEd: Beginnings

Chapter Thirteen

With a bit of dumb luck, Ryan found where he needed to be before the fight started. The others stood on the ground level behind the wooden barrier. They arched up on their toes and leaned over the fence, trying to see the action. Ryan's opponent walked onto the field. The crowd cheered for him as he took his place in the middle of the sludge-covered field. Ryan entered the wooden ring and trudged over to the man. He had a good foot in height on him and was much broader in stature. The odds looked good.

Eric and Jake clapped for Ryan. Harley stood on the barriers, yelling encouragements at the top of her lungs. Jake looked up at her and laughed.

"Just Jake," a voice sounded behind them. The trio spun around, coming face-to-face with a guard in golden armour. "King Malcolm has asked for ye to accompany him in the royal box."

Jake looked to his dumbfounded companions. "Why would the King be asking for me?"

"Follow me." The guard offered no explanation, turning on his heel and leading Jake away.

"We agreed not to..." Eric began to call out, petering out when he realised Jake could no longer hear him, "split up."

Jake stayed close to the guard as they weaved through the crowds. They came to the entrance of the royal box. The armoured man stood to attention at the bottom of the stairs, his back straight and his hands at his side. Jake didn't know what to do and the guard gave no indication. The little of what Jake could see of his face was expressionless. Jake looked up the stairs, hesitant to go alone. He took his time ascending, steeling himself for whatever would come next. It still caught him by surprise. Sitting in a lavish chair, greeting him with a giant grin, was a face he knew. It was the young man he had met in the library the previous night. He rose, opening his arms in a gesture of welcome. He embraced Jake in a tight grip.
"I'm so glad ye chose to join us," the man said, grabbing Jake by the shoulders.

"You're King Malcolm?" Jake stammered.

Before Malcolm could answer, an elderly man from the King's party spoke out. "How dare ye not bow in the presence of our majesty the King."

Jake, taken aback by the sudden hostility, didn't know what to say. He opened his mouth to apologise but Malcolm stopped him.

"Dinna be so unwelcoming to my guest, Sir Richal," King Malcolm said sternly. Sir Richal averted his gaze and bowed his head in apology. Malcolm offered Jake a seat next to him - albeit on a less-decorated chair. He retook his throne and leaned over to the still-confused student. "My friend, I was thinking 'bout our conversation last night. I wanted to hear more of yer thoughts on the matter."

Jake remembered all his opinionated remarks. "I'm sorry. I realise now that I was out of line."
"Why? Because now ye ken that I am King?" Malcolm laughed.

The boy didn't know what to say.

"Jake, my whole life people have told me what I want to hear. Not what I need to hear. Your honesty was refreshing and quite frankly I would like to hear more of it."

"Really?" Jake asked, shocked.

"Aye. I canna get what you said out of my head. I want to ken ye thoughts on how to 'bridge the gap' - as you put it last night," Malcolm said. "I want to ken what I, as King, can do for the people of my country."

Jake laughed in amazement, dumbfounded by the fact that the advice he had given to a King was being taken seriously. "I have a few ideas."

The crowd roared as the fighters took their positions. Malcolm smiled at Jake. "Tell me after the match. My money's on Otis the Brute."