08-07-2007, 09:24 PM
Flash, and the scene unfolded. A king stood before his throne with a furious frown on his face. In front of him stood the crown prince, with slicked black hair and fear in his green eyes, “It wasn’t me!” he protested to the king who in turn raised an eyebrow and posed to him a question,
“Then who?” The prince nearly spat at him, “I don’t know, why don’t you ask my sister?”
The random nobles milling about this argument now stopped and looked at them in disbelief. The king trembled in rage, “Do you dare suggest that the princess is a harlot?”
It was a loaded question, the prince knowing this looked to the ground, “Of course not my king, I merely met that she might know her attacker.” Next to the king also facing the prince stood a young woman. Perhaps she was seventeen years of age. Her hair and eyes matched her brother’s. She stood with her crown atop her head and a pink dress on her body. She stood silent. The king’s eyes narrowed, and he didn’t even justify the statement with a reply. Instead he waved his hand and a group of guards came forward.
“No!” the prince objected, “It wasn’t me!” The guards came closer. He knew there was only one way this was going to end, with him in prison. Yet, the prince didn’t give up. Frantically he turned to his sister, “You know it wasn’t me! Tell them!” The young girl merely stared at him and mouthed two words
“Goodbye brother.” Hurt and sadness replaced the fear in his eyes as he lost hope of being proved innocent, why would his sister do such a thing? The guards overtook him. Unwilling to be taken prisoner, he jerked free from them and ran. Before he exited the heavy wooden door, leading to the village, he looked back to his sister and whispered, “Why?” Flash.
He awoke with a start, and took a deep breath. He had escaped two weeks ago, but the memories seemed so real, too real. He was in the forest just South of the castle he used to live in. In that time, he had learned, quickly, that sleeping in trees was better than on the ground. While passing through his village, he traded his silk shirt and pants for some brown, tattered, sackcloth ones. It was meant as a ruse to fool his father,. In addition to the peasant’s clothes, the prince also received a brown drawstring bag, made out of the same material his new clothes were. Inside was a small writing kit, complete with a leather bound unused diary. The prince carefully set up the writing set and looked to the sky. The moon was high and its rays fought through the trees to reflect in the nearby river. Dipping his quill into the precariously balancing ink he began writing on the first page. Nikolas Cherfchack, Crown Prince of he stopped and thought for a second, Well I suppose, since I ran away, I’m not Crown Prince anymore. Nikolas sighed, as that realization weighed heavily on his heart. He crossed out Crown Prince and continued writing. My father hunts for me as a fox for a rabbit. He thinks I have deflowered my sister, I know such a vile act is not beyond some in out court, but it is beyond me. No amount of pleas or evidence would allow him to think otherwise. The only thing is, I know my sister knows of my innocence but why did she not defend me? I suppose I shall have to ask her if I find the real culprit. He paused for a second, and listened carefully. He though he heard the baying of a hound, as he had for many night. However, tonight there was no such sound, satisfied, he went back to writing. The river here flows in the same direction the sun travels, they say at the end of the road is a city for the hunted. I will go there and attempt to live while devising a plan to catch whoever copulated with my sister. Nikolas read everything he just wrote, satisfied, he put the writing utensils back into the bag slept.
When the sun rose high enough to kiss him, Nikolas woke up and descended the tree that had served as his bed. Nearing the side of the river he studied his reflection and nearly laughed. His normally combed and slick hair was now messy and riddled with leaves. His green eyes, spoke of sleepless nights and worry. A five o’clock shadow replaced his typically clean-cut face. “Well at least nobody will recognize me.” He mumbled. Nikolas took a handful of the cool water and washed his face with it, his second handful was used to refresh his insides. Taking one last look at the moving body, he followed it.
The palate of colors grew bland existing of only greens, blues and yellows, until a grey tower peaked atop the green. “I don’t remember a castle being here.” Nikolas whispered. Indeed he would have known, having studied many maps of the surrounding area. The large relief of color looked only a few clicks away so Nikolas decided to move towards it. A few hours later, he was at its door, pieces of long past memories surged through him. He raised a hand to scratch his dirty hair, “This place looks so familiar.” He thought. To help jog his memories, Nikolas mentally studied the palace. “ The whole place is grey, and with hardly any windows. There’s a drawbridge, but no moat. I think I’ve been here before.” Something within his brain clicked, and this thought surfaced, “Purple trumpets, instead of gold.” Sure enough the drawbridge was let down and trumpeters marched out, instead of the conventional trumpets these were purple. An older man with no hair rode across the drawbridge upon a chestnut horse, wearing a long red robe with gold embroidery. Seeing Nikolas he rode towards the former prince. “Well,” said the older man, “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
“Uncle Mantic!” exclaimed Nikolas in a sudden outburst of recognition. “I am pleased to see you.” A smile found his face.
“Always so formal, what brings you here?” asked Mantic. Nikolas squirmed uncomfortably, “I am afraid it is trouble that bring me here.” Mantic’s, light brown eyes softened in worry, and his eyebrows rose in question. “Well then come, you can spend the night and we will discuss this over lunch.” Nikolas nodded and followed Mantic and his horse behind the drawbridge. There was a rather large courtyard before a visitor could reach the front door. This space was as busy as a marketplace with guards and servants rushing about. Mantic dismounted his horse and immediately a stable boy lead it away. He continued to the door, with Nikolas following behind. They entered. The interior was very archetypal in style, with a staircase directly in front of them, dining room to the left and library to the right. Mantic clapped his hands and two female servants arrived promptly. “Show him to a room, and clothe him as well.” He said to one, and she curtsied. To the other, “make lunch for us right away.” She too, curtsied and left. Then he turned to Nikolas, “when you are clean, come and meet me for lunch.” The first servant girl motioned for him to follow her. He did. They walked up the stairs and she opened the door for him. Once he entered, she spoke “The water in the tub is warm and I will be back with your clothes, m’lord” she curtsied and walked out closing the door behind her. Nikolas stood in the middle of the room. In front of him there was a doorway lead to a private privy, and tub. Next to the door way was a desk and chair with a candle for writing. Behind him the bed was adorned with a purple blanket with silver flowers embroidered in it. On the opposite wall of the door was a window, one of the few in the whole castle. Nikolas had no doubt that the sheets were silk. He sighed and stripped, placing his writing bag on the desk and his rags underneath the bed. Walking into the bathroom he tested the water with his hand and then stepped in. Settling comfortably he took to the task of scrubbing two weeks of grime. When he deemed himself finished, he stepped out and claimed a towel. Wrapping it around his relatively skinny body he went back into the main bedroom. On the bed was a silver silk shirt with a pair of wool pants and black shoes. Next to the clothes laid a comb and a razorblade. Nikolas took a second to shave and comb his hair before dressing and heading back down the stairs to meet his uncle.
Uncle Mantic was already seated at the head of the table when Nikolas arrived. Instinctively, Nikolas sat next to him at the place of honor. As he did, servants came with their plates of soup and bread. “So,” began Mantic, picking up a piece of bread, “What trouble brought you to my doorstep.” Nikolas wasn’t really hungry but he decided to eat anyway not knowing his next time. “I am accused of raping my sister, but I am innocent.” There was a silence. Finally Mantic spoke up, he speech was strange as if he was hiding something, “Do you have any idea who?” Nikolas was oblivious to his uncle’s obvious discomfort. “No, but heaven help the knave when I catch him!” Mantic audibly breathed a sigh of relief. “Well then good luck to you!” The rest of the lunch passed without another word between the two, and it ended when both of them had emptied their plates. Wordlessly, Nikolas got up and left the dining room. He was halfway up the staircase, when he suddenly remembered that he had an important request to make of his uncle. Just as he approached the entryway, Nikolas heard the hushed voice of his uncle to one of his servants. “Tell the king, that I have his son. I know it’s betrayel, but I can’t have my nephew know that it was I whom deflowered my niece, the princess.” Forgetting all about his request Nikolas rushed up the stairs into the room he was showed to. Hastily, Nikolas unpacked his writing kit and wrote. “So now I know, it was my uncle. My sister and my father both choose to protect him over me. This means that I must give up all hope of ever returning to court. Without an order coming from the king I have been exiled, forever. My only hope of survival will be when I arrive at the city that is on the other end of the river. I will not stay here the whole night. When it is dark I will run from this wretched place, and my deceiving uncle.” With that he put away his writing tools, retrieved his rags set them on the chair and climb into the bed. It was soft and warm. Nikolas fell into an uneasy sleep, filled with visions of being captured and rotting in prison. When he finally gave up on sleep, Nikolas looked out the window and the sun had just set; it was time to go. Ditching his borrowed clothes and donning his rags, Nikolas grabbed his bag, snuck downstairs and into the courtyard. The drawbridge no matter how quiet was loud. So Nikolas let it down himself and ran as fast as he could in the same direction of the river.
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