The Peasant's Revolt of 2381

Past

The kingdom of Dullodas wasn't always a monopoly. Ruled by the generous King Ali, it was once a peaceful country. The current year is 2225. Not dictated by greed and distastefulness, the land was packed with thriving crops and gorgeous citizens. That was until the prince was born.

When the queen found out she was pregnant, she and the king were ecstatic. The queen, Queen Denstin, was an extravagant sight to see. Freckles littering her face, she had long, straight black hair. Golden eyes that can entrance anybody that comes her way. Her height was shorter than average, but still very beautiful.

The King stood at an average height. Donning a gray scarf, with gray-brown hair styled in a wave. A feature to notice is the scar running down his right cheek, all the way down to his collarbone. He had forest green eyes, that have a gleam of mischief that almost never goes away.

Shortly after the prince's birth, his eyes opened. The baby's eyes felt like they were illuminating the room with a sense of peace and perseverance. The color was a pure brown, like a chestnut having just fallen off a tree. His looks seemed to entrance the delivery woman, her eyes widening at his appearance. Freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and nose, but he did not have as much freckles as his mother. Black, fuzzy hair covered his head.

"My queen, he is... absolutely beautiful!" The woman gasped. The woman turned to look at the queen. That's when she and the king noticed.

The queen wasn't breathing.

"G-Guara!!" The king stuttered. In an instant, his eyes had turned from his usual forest color to a dull, murky green, losing its glint of mischief that had been known for never, ever disappearing. "You can't! Don't leave me!" He shouted, a bead of sweat treading down the right side of his face. The baby, being left on the unmoving mother's lap, started to cry.

"How are we supposed to care for this child? I don't know how!" The king squalled.

"I c-can suggest s-something, but it may not be the b-best option..." The woman murmured, eyes glassy and voice shaky.

"I'll do anything if it means my child can be safe!" The king exclaimed, regaining his composure.

"Well, we'll have to... give the child up for adoption." The woman stated. She looked as if she could crumble from guilt any second now. The baby was still crying, so the woman wrapped him into a blanket and adjusted his position so he was laying on his side.

"Are you sure it's what I should do?" The king inquired.

"It's the best option for the child. You said you don't have the proper knowledge- wait, can one of your maids handle the child?" The woman responded.

"I'm afraid not. My kingdom has an illness plaguing most of our staff members, so we're understaffed. We'd need a long-term team, too. Since most of my maids change jobs very often,  I can't have a steady team. We could try advertising, but I doubt that would bring in a lot of people, and it's too late since our prince has already been born." King Ali explained.

"So, that only leaves giving the prince up to whomever comes across him on the roadside. I'm truly, truly sorry that you have to do this." The woman gulped, looking away.

An hour later, they had gotten the supplies ready. The king was still iffy about leaving the child behind, but had been reassured by the woman right before she had left to do her work. The king was told by the woman that she had control over the situation with his late wife.

The king was wearing a brown cloak, completely covering his eyes. His gray scarf was still hanging on his body, the only difference was that it covered his large scar. The disguised king set down a large picnic basket, and left a note on top of it. The note read,

To whomever picks up this basket:

           Please take care of the child inside this basket. His name is Franco. Raise him to be kind and compassionate. I, sadly, cannot raise him properly, so I am entrusting whoever decides to raise this child to be as kind as possible. Do not let him stray on the wrong path.

                                                                                             Sincerely,

                                                                                             A Stranger

"Goodbye, Franco." King Ali sighed.

And then he walked away.

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(737 Words)