[LitF] 1. Of Baths and Servants (Patreon)

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[A/N: Not sure I'll be able to release a new chapter today. I'll do my best. ]

Arthur already hated baths, to begin with, but it was even worse when it came right before a meeting with his father. The maids were extra meticulous then.

"Ouch!" he complained, but neither of the three old ladies furiously scrubbing him seemed to care.

Despite the torture, Arthur didn't try to leave the bathing pool. Not this time, no. His head maid had been very upset the last time he did.

She had cut his deserts for three days! Three! He still couldn't believe he had survived such a horrible trial.

So he let the old ladies do their job until they were done.

"This should be enough, Your Highness," Tamara said.

Arthur stared at the woman. She wasn't inside the pool, but her clothes and round face were wet from all the steam from the bath. Her blue eyes and golden hair were beautiful, but she always held her long hair in a bun, and an ugly cut from below her left eye to her chin marred her cheek. It was now an angry red due to the steam, as it always did when her body heated up.

"You're ugly again," Arthur said.

Most women never liked to be called ugly, but Tamara was the opposite. She smiled at him in a way that made her almost beautiful. "You should not call a lady ugly, Your Highness," she lightly admonished.

Arthur frowned. Grown-ups sometimes said one thing and behaved the opposite. He was only now starting to understand how that worked and found it dumb and unfair.

The other maids didn't take long to finish. Their white servant clothes with golden details were so wet they were sticking to their bodies. It looked uncomfortable. Arthur didn't understand why propriety demanded he was the only one naked in the room.

"You can leave now, Your Highness," Tamara informed in a way that sounded like a command.

While Arthur obeyed, a fifth maid entered the bathroom, this one a teenager. Her clothes were dry, and she approached with a few towels. She used one to wrap him as soon as he left the pool, another to hold his shoulder-length hair, and a third to dry him a little before she led him to his bedroom.

When he entered his bedroom, he looked longingly at the opposite door. His playroom was so close but felt so far away. He was currently a hostage to his "princely duties," as annoying as they were.

At least he had one toy he had been allowed to keep in his room when it wasn't playing time. Not, not a toy. A weapon.

A knight's weapon.

He grabbed the short wooden sword from its wall mount, hugged it, and threw himself on the canopy bed. It was so deliciously fluffy! Why couldn't he just sleep all day?

"Cover me," he ordered.

"Your Highness," the girl said, "we should focus on drying you before the head maid arrives. Your father is waiting—"

"You must call him the Golden King or His Royal Majesty," Arthur corrected absentmindedly, looking at his white and golden canopy. "Only the royal family can call themselves by familial bond labels," he quoted a tutor who offered candies in tribute in exchange for him paying attention to his dull class. "All others, subjects or foreigners, are to refer to them by their royal titles."

He was so lost in dreams of spending his days only sleeping or playing that it took him a while to realize Annie had said nothing after his remark.

When he looked at her, her slightly dark skin was pale, and her green eyes were wide open. She might even be trembling a little.

Arthur sighed. Some servants were like that when he corrected them. Annoying. Hopefully, she would do something stupid and cause Tamara to replace her.

"Cover me," he ordered again.

This time, Annie obeyed. She went to his walking closet, brought one of his favorite blankets, and wrapped him with it.

She was very good at not leaving a single inch of him uncovered or uncomfortable. Maybe it was better if she wasn't replaced after all.

Unfortunately, his head maid didn't look happy when she arrived a few minutes later, now wearing dry clothes, and saw him all cozy.

"Arthur Willoughby Naerith-Tracey Boria the Third," Tamara said. "You stand up and start cooperating right now, or I swear to Fate that I'll tell your father that he can only awaken you over my dead body!"

A burst of mana came from her body. The mana was strong enough that even he felt it, despite being usually unable to sense. The energy swirled around her for a moment, then returned to her body, setting the pledge on her soul.

Arthur tsked. Such an annoying skill. There was no changing her mind when she used it.

Then again, maybe doing his best to awaken today wouldn't be so bad. Carl had awakened already, and he had been too obnoxious about it the last time they met. Arthur might as well cooperate.

"Fine," he said as he struggled against the blanket and towel to stand up. "But you should call my father the Golden King or His Royal Majesty," he said. She had committed the same blunder as Annie. Maybe he could make Tamara pale for once, too. "Only the royal family can call themselves—"

"Quiet!" Tamara interrupted briskly. He should've known she wouldn't be so easily defeated. "Annie, bring the blue and gray formal clothes."

The girl immediately headed to the closet.

"Not the blue one!" Arthur complained as the three other old maids, also with changed, dry clothes, came from the bathroom and started drying him. "It itches!"

"Good," Tamara replied. "You are feeling way too comfortable with something that will change your entire life. This ought to help you focus, Your Highness."

Arthur pushed his head back, took a deep breath, and left his mouth open, giving up as the women did what they wanted with him.

He was a prince!

The crown prince, to boot!

Why must he suffer so?

= - = - =

Arthur and Tamara stood before the Ritual Room's closed double doors.

The golden doors had all sorts of black mystic symbols drawn on them. The enchantments had many functions, including basking the room in golden light—the only light source there. The round antechamber had mirrored floor, walls, and ceiling. It was big enough to hold crowds of thousands, but it had only the two of them.

Well, there were royal guards there, too, but they weren't visitors. They were always there, dozens of them, standing guard around the room in their impressive golden armor and black capes. The lion insignia of the Golden Kingdom was shown in high-bass black metal on their chest armor.

As usual, Arthur gawked at them— No, he studied them like the competent prince he was. A crown prince had to study— No, to inspect his future troops.

Arthur dutifully examined how they kept their backs straight, heads held high, their right hands resting on their longsword's sheath's belt, and the left on the pommel of their long swords. He regally noticed that they did that while holding a black tower shield with the left hand. He augustly failed to see the two daggers he knew were hidden behind their backs. He dignifiedly looked at their helmets that showed nothing of their faces, only white light that released menacing white mist! And... And...

Oh, they were just too cool for him to enumerate all their coolness!

He faintly recalled a tutor saying royal knights were powerful thanks to their high stats. However, stats were numbers, and numbers were math. Math was boring, and that tutor didn't give him candies. Thus, he hadn't paid much attention.

Wait a second...

He glanced suspiciously at Tamara. He was also recalling something about stats being related to awakening. Did... Did he need to do math to awaken?

Was a math tutor waiting inside the Ritual Room?

Was this a trap?

If so, Arthur knew he couldn't triumph over his head maiden, but he could at least look as impressive as a knight while marching into the incoming battlefield. He looked back at the royal knights and mimicked how they held themselves. Doing so without a sword of his own to rest his hand on—Tamara had forbidden him from bringing his weapon!—wasn't easy, but he did his best.

He even felt a little like a true knight if he said so himself.

Yet, instead of being proud of his achievement, he became a little depressed. Why couldn't he have a sibling?! That way, he could tell them to become king or queen in his stead and become their knight!

Everyone knew being king was somewhat nice...

...but it was nowhere as cool as being a knight!

Suddenly, Arthur's back itched fiercely. He tried and failed to scratch it.

"When I become king, you'll be the first to lose your job," he promised Tamara.

Before begging for him to reconsider it, his head maid helped him. She knew the exact spot he was trying to reach and was good at scratching him. Very, very good. It was only proper since she had scratched him from the day he had been born.

Arthur let out a soft moan of pleasure.

"Are you sure about firing me, Your Highness?" she asked.

"Hmm..." he said. Suddenly, he was, in fact, unsure. "Maybe not." She chuckled. "But you'll have to become more beautiful. The king's maids can't be ugly."

She stopped scratching and froze in place. Arthur realized his blunder too late. She never liked to hear the word beautiful, especially when related to her in any way.

"Uh... Sorry," he said.

Arthur hated her, but he also liked her very much. He couldn't put it into words, but he didn't mind being mean to her in some ways. It was fun! But sometimes, when he said some things, it hurt her, and it wasn't fun then.

He could only kind of explain it using his mom's words. There was a sort of line that he couldn't cross, and that line was right where the other person felt uncomfortable or upset.

That reminded him of Annie. Had he crossed the line with her? Nah. Well, maybe, but why should he care? She had crossed the line first by calling his father his father. That was his line. He was a prince and had to preserve propriety; everyone said so.

Then again, Tamara had crossed that same line, and Arthur hadn't cared as much...

He shook his head and stopped thinking about it. It was too confusing. He'd ask his mom the next time they talked.

Speaking of which... "When will I spend time with mom again?" he asked.

"It was supposed to be tomorrow, but she postponed it to three days from now, Your Highness," Tamara replied. "Her Majesty sent her regrets, but the Healing Guild asked for more subsidies to heal the poor free of charge, so Her Majesty will be visiting some dukes and lords..."

Arthur stopped paying attention. Boring stuff was boring.

Well, the propriety stuff was kind of interesting. It made other people listen to him instead of ignoring his words as they often did. So he took note of how Tamara called his mom 'Her Majesty' while his father was 'His Royal Majesty.'

Had a tutor taught him that? Maybe they did; maybe they didn't. How was he supposed to recall everything they said? There were so many of them, and they kept talking about so many different things! And almost all of them were boring, too!

Eventually, Tamara stopped talking, and Arthur studied the royal knights again. He lost track of time as he imagined himself wearing his father's armor and fighting a mighty dragon—

Tamara's voice interrupted his plans for the future. "It's almost time," she said and kneeled beside him. She turned him to face her and groomed his clothes one last time.

Arthur looked at his reflex in a mirror. His light gray underclothes were only visible at some openings in his attire. His mom claimed the various blue shades of his formal garments highlighted his shoulder-length golden hair and golden eyes, but he couldn't see how.

The only thing he liked in his clothing was the golden leather shoes. It put a big smile on his face. Tamara had insisted they didn't match everything else, but he had claimed he deserved a reward for cooperating, and she had given in to his princely demands.

While Tamara put his clothes in place, Arthur took a good last look at the golden mystic symbols on his black gloves. Like any noble child, he wore them everywhere except in his bath. They prevented him from awakening before he was allowed to, even if he was put in contact with an awakening stone by mistake.

Soon, he wouldn't need them anymore...

Wait, he would. This was a math trap, wasn't it? Cursed Tamara! She had almost distracted him again! Such a cunning woman!

All his thoughts about that left his mind when the double doors opened, and a knight clad in black armor and a golden cape emerged from it.

Arthur could only gape at the newcomer.

Only his mist-releasing glowing white eyes were the same as the royal knights. His black armor and golden cape—and the golden lion insignia on his chest—had the opposite colors instead, marking him as a grand knight. In the Golden Kingdom, that meant he was part of his father's retinue, the most trusted knights in the whole realm.

"His Royal Majesty summons His Highness," the grand knight declared.

All grand knights had the skill to make their voices dark and ominous. Paired with their skull-like helmet, it sent shivers through Arthur's body.

"Go on, Your Highness," Tamara urged, gently pushing his back.

The prince looked confused at her. "Aren't you coming?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I explained things to you on the way here, Your Highness. Don't you recall?"

"I had princely matters on my mind at the time," he replied with righteous indignation. He had been surly about not bringing his sword. How could he have cared about anything else?

She pursed her lips. "How about when your tutors taught you, Your Highness?"

"Princely matters," he repeated.

Arthur didn't actually recall what had been on his mind whenever whoever told him about it had been with him. But he was sure he had had good reasons. He always did.

Tamara sighed. "Your Highness, only the king, queen, and the king's retinue can enter the Ritual Room more than once in their lives. Any other awakener only visits it during their own awakening ritual."

"Oh." Arthur suddenly felt significantly less comfortable about everything. The grand knight also looked a lot more intimidating. He clenched the hem of his upper vest. "Can't I order you to come?"

She widened her eyes and looked at the grand knight. The man didn't move. A moment later, a voice boomed from the inside. "He can."

Tamara's eyes widened even more, and she paled a little. Arthur smiled happily and offered her his hand. She stood up, quickly patted her maid clothes, and grabbed his hand.

Arthur nodded, satisfied, and turned to the grand knight. "I heed my king's summons," he said, trying to sound all wise and mighty.

His voice came out as an annoying squeak instead. At once, he promised himself that he would one day learn the skills that made the grand knights sound cool.

The armored man stepped aside to let them in. Arthur had been taught never to pull a lady before she was ready, but the king was waiting, and Tamara was wasting time trembling instead of stepping ahead, so he clenched her hand.

It worked. She took a deep breath, looked straight at her shoes to show proper deference, and moved on.

The square Ritual Room was only a little larger than Arthur's bedroom, barely able to fit a few hundred people. It was wholly made of black stones. Two obsidian thrones were on top of a three-step dais at the back. Two grand knights stood down the platform and to the side. The knight who had let them in closed the doors after Arthur and Tamara entered the room and stood guard there.

Two rainbow crystal balls floated midway to the dais, close to the walls. They filled the room with beautiful rainbow-colored lights that seemed to move like liquid.

The Golden King and his queen sat on their thrones.

Arthur's father had short golden hair and golden eyes and wore his ritual clothes, a padded multi-layered white robe with golden trims. Each of his fingers had a thick ring with different gems. The mythril crown on his head had nine inlaid dark red dragonheart stones.

His mom wore ordinary queen clothes, a white multi-layered dress with black trims and delicate golden flower drawings. Her long red hair was neatly combed to her back. Her green eyes seemed to shine, and Arthur still thought she had lied when she said it wasn't a skill. The mythril jewelry with golden details she wore made her even prettier. Her crown was mere gold with silver details.

The queen was smiling slightly. The king looked dead serious.

Arthur felt a little jealous. His mom had postponed their meeting to talk to some dukes but was always ready to do stuff with his dad. His dad was the king, but Arthur was her only child!

She was lucky her hugs were so comfy and warm, or he would give her a piece of his mind!

Tamara's body was trembling even harder now, but she didn't need a nudge to keep walking. She accompanied Arthur one quarter into the room, then stopped and tried to let go of his hand. He didn't let her.

"Come with me," Arthur ordered.

"Arthur, darling," his mother said with a kind voice. "Only the awakener candidate can approach further than that. Don't put your head maiden in a spot."

"Oh," he said and gulped before letting go of Tamara's hand.

She just stood there, head down, saying nothing.

Arthur looked at his mother again, and she nodded at him. He took a deep breath. Knights were brave. He wanted to be a knight.

He would be brave too.

He moved until he reached the center of the room, where he put his right knee to the ground, kept his left arm and hand relaxed, rested his left hand on his left knee, and lowered his head.

Silence descended on the room.

Arthur started panicking a little. Had he done something wrong? Had his father decided not to let him awaken? Would he be punished?

Or worse: were they waiting for a math tutor, after all?

"Arthur, son," his father finally said. "Tell me what you know of the awakening ritual and what you think of it."

Arthur relaxed as he looked at his father and smiled. He knew the answer to that question. "Awakening lets us grow stronger. And awakening now will let me rub it on Carl's face when I see him again! He only awakened at eight years old! I'm six! I win!" He proudly stated.

After a brief pause, the man asked, "Is that all?" Before Arthur could reply, the Golden King shook his head. "You are too immature. Experience tells us you'll make terrible mistakes if you awaken now. We shouldn't be doing this."

"I'm not immature!" he defended himself.

His father sighed deeply and looked at his mom. She nodded at him and gently put her hand on his arm. He sighed again and stood up.

"Alas, we're out of time," he said somberly and looked Arthur straight in the eyes. "Son, we are at war."

"What?!" he replied.

"Our borders were attacked without provocation yesterday. Our foes are many, and we'll need all the help we can get to defeat them. Henceforth, I decided you must awaken." He paused. "You're not ready, not even close. You should've taken special classes for months after we decided you were ready. But we're out of time." He paused, and the queen cleared her throat. The king sighed again. Arthur had never seen him sigh so much. "We need you to help us win the war."

Confusion—and anger at being called not ready—turned into joy. "Will I become a knight, then?!" Arthur asked hopefully.

"You shall be trained in many things," he replied as he stepped down from the throne. "Part of it will include lessons with a knight. But before that, you must awaken, and before that, you must understand very, very important things." He approached Arthur. "First and foremost, do not pick an element when you awaken. You'll be tempted, but do not do it. You must stay your hand. Do you understand?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, father."

"You'll also get stat points," his father continued. "Don't use them. If you do any of the things I'm telling you not to, you'll become weaker in the long run. Every step of a prince's training is carefully crafted to give you as many boosts as possible. Do not throw that away. Do you understand?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. Why did he keep asking that? Of course, he understood. He wasn't stupid. "Yes, father."

"Your Majesty, if I may?" the queen asked.

The Golden King turned back and nodded, "Of course, my queen."

"Arthur, dear, are you immature?" she asked.

"I already said I'm not!" he replied with a raised voice.

"Then you'll prove it to us, won't you?" she asked. "You'll obey your father. You'll not pick an element, and you'll not use your stats. If you do, you'll just prove you're immature. But you aren't, are you?"

"I'm not!" Arthur said. Why were they insisting on that?! It was making him righteously angry.

"Knights are obedient to their king," she continued. "You admire knights, don't you, dear? You won't disappoint the grand knights witnessing your awakening, will you?"

"I already said I won't!" he complained. "Stop talking to me like I'm a child. I'll become strong and help us win the war!"

She said nothing after that; she just looked with a strange smile at his father.

The king sighed for the fourth time and extended his hand. It disappeared as it went through the invisible boundary created by his spatial storage item, maybe one of his rings. When he pulled his hand back, he was holding a fist-sized, two-thumb-thick milky white stone tablet.

"Did you at least memorize the ritual words?" his father asked.

"Ritual words?" Arthur asked.

The king looked at the ceiling. "Fate have mercy," he whispered and turned his eyes back to Arthur. "Stand up, take off your gloves, pick the stone, and accept the prompt."

"Prompt?"

"You'll see."

Arthur obeyed, letting his gloves fall on the ground. When he extended his hand to take the awakening stone, his father pulled his hand back. "Remember, don't pick an element, and don't use your stat points."

The boy barely listened, his eyes glued on the stone that would make him stronger. "Yes, father," he said absentmindedly.

After an eternity, his father finally gave him the stone.

As soon as Arthur touched it, he saw the Windows into Fate for the first time in his life.

The white rectangle had silvery borders and black letters. It floated in front of him, invisible to everyone else. The text was in a language he had never seen before, but he understood every word.

「 Awakening Stone

Do you want to awaken into a grander existence?」

"Yes," Arthur replied, and then he wasn't himself anymore.

= - = - =

Arthur was a star in an endless swirling sky. Uncountable light dots traversed the fabric of reality around him, each mote whispering promises of power and wonder. He smelled fire and earth, heard the wind and thunder, and felt cold and warm.

Sometimes, a star approached, and he would feel and know more.

Once, he was made lord, king, and emperor. His words contained boundless wisdom and charisma. His subjects were infinite, and when they heeded his orders, they were unstoppable. He felt their loyalty, exposed traitors, and rewarded the worthy. He ruled with a kind hand, and his people loved him. He ruled with an iron fist, and they feared him. His kingdom prospered—

The star moved away, and another came.

Arthur was water. He gently flowed anywhere he could and violently impacted whatever stood in his way. He gave life to those who drank him and his tides—

That star also moved away and was replaced by a new one.

More came and went. Arthur became the pillars holding the world and an inferno of flames that consumed all. The very space where everything existed and the time that ruled over existence. The metal in—

Metal.

Arthur paid extra attention to that one.

He became the cold alloy in a sword that killed his enemies, the precious orichalcum that wars were fought over, and the powerful mythril armor that protected his armies.

He was the metal that knights clad themselves with and wielded to crush their enemies. He was even in a knight's blood, crucial to keep their bodies strong somehow.

That was it!

That was the way Arthur would help his father win the war!

His enemies' armor would crumble into rusty pieces at his will, and their weapons would turn brittle and weak. His armies would be as protected and well-equipped as no other in history.

Arthur pulled.

He became metal in a way he couldn't describe. He couldn't tell where he ended and metal started. He had never felt so... whole.

And then, he was nothing.

= - = - =

Arthur found himself fallen on the ground, breathing haggardly and staring at the ceiling. Sweat covered his body. He felt so cold.

Many different Windows into Fate covered his vision, but a voice boomed in the room before he could do anything about them.

"What did you do?!" the Golden King demanded furiously. "I told you not to pick an element!"

Arthur focused on the king, who stood nearby. The Widows into Fate followed his vision but turned almost invisible to make way for his father's twisted face.

Arthur had never felt so scared in his entire life.

That didn't look like his father. There was just so much fury in the man! Arthur instinctively put his hands on the ground and used them to move away.

"You stupid... child!" the king raged and stepped closer, bridging the distance Arthur had just put between them. "You were supposed to get a better achievement! You were supposed to get the best element you could! Your mother and I wanted to be here and do our utmost best for you before—"

"Husband!" the queen interjected.

The Golden King froze his speech, closed his mouth, and looked at Arthur in a way that made the boy feel so, so very sad. "You disappoint me."

To everyone's surprise, Tamara spoke next. "Your Majesty, he's just a child," she said shakily. "He wasn't properly groomed for this. I wasn't ready to resist the elements vortex, and I was taught for months before awakening at fifteen."

"He's a Boria, not some Hustoir spawn," the king replied with a voice that raised Arthur's hairs on their ends. "He is my son. He should be better than his maid."

Tamara was behind Arthur, so he didn't see her. Silence befell the room. A moment later, he heard her sniff.

His head maiden was crying.

That was it for Arthur. He cried too. He was afraid and uncomfortable, and hearing his father say he had disappointed him hurt so much. He could almost feel how the grand knights in the room were also disappointed in him. The feeling overwhelmed and oppressed him.

The Golden King looked at him impassively.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said between sobs. "I just wanted to... To help the knights... Fight better. Help them... With their metal... I... I..." No words came after that. He just cried.

Nobody said anything for a while. His mother stood up, approached, kneeled on the ground, and hugged him.

The comfy and warm hug made Arthur cry harder as he hugged her back.

"Your Royal Majesty," his mom said with an icy voice. "I'm sure His Highness will behave like a wise and strong-willed six-year-old from now on. If only you would forget his blunder just this once?"

The Golden King looked even more furiously at the queen for a moment, then said, "He'd better."

He turned to the door and walked silently until he left the room. The grand knight there opened the doors for the king, followed the man outside, and closed them behind him.

Arthur hugged his mother tighter and cried until he fell asleep.

= - = - =

It wasn't the usual fluffy mattress and comfy blanket that met Arthur when he woke up, but the Ritual Room's hard, cold stone floor. It took him a few moments to recall he had fallen asleep there.

The memory of the look his father had given him was quick to follow.

"You disappoint me," the Golden King had said, and the words echoed in Arthur's mind, haunting him to no end.

"Don't just stay there, boy," a male, harsh, old voice said. "Stand up."

Arthur looked around. Only the two grand knights that stood guard by the dais remained of the room's previous occupants. His mother and Tamara were gone.

A newcomer stood beside him, standing with crossed arms. His long black clothes with golden details marked him as a grand knight working civic duties.

The man was older than his voice suggested. His shoulder-length white hair was thin, his face was heavily wrinkled, and he had a slight hunchback.

Still, Arthur felt an unmistakable intensity from his deep dark green eyes. It chilled the boy to the bones.

A few silent moments later, a transparent black rectangle appeared above the man's head. It contained symbols written in Fate's language, which Arthur had never learned. Somehow, he could read it anyway.

| Human — Level 73

Grand knights were at least level 50. This man was an elite among elites.

Arthur was confused, lost, and scared. So, he searched for solace in his usual habit of correcting people. The man had called him 'boy' instead of using his royal title.

"The royal family shall be addressed by their royal—" Arthur started.

He was interrupted by a snicker.

"His Royal Majesty said you want to be trained as a knight, boy," the man said. "Rejoice, for you became my personal student. You're a squire now, a servant. All servants forfeit their titles while performing their duties, and squires are always on duty. Now shut up and follow me. We have a lot to do."

Arthur could barely believe what he was hearing. He would really become a knight?! That was... outstanding! Amazing! Glorious!

But he had never heard about those servant things. Or had he? His tutors really should do a better job of sounding less dull. It was their fault he couldn't pay attention to them.

Could it be that some servants were nobility? He had never expected it! But how could the prince of the Golden Kingdom become a mere servant? That sounded wrong—

"I gave you an order, boy," the man barked, interrupting Arthur's thinking. "First lesson, your superior's orders must be obeyed with celerity. Stand up. Follow. Now."

Arthur was only spoken like that by his father, and even then, rarely. That's why being called a disappointment had hurt so much. He wouldn't accept being spoken to like this by anyone else as if he were some simple servant—

This time, his thoughts were interrupted by the man suddenly pulling him by the scuff of his vests, from the back, and raising him to the air. It hurt his throat. He was so confused that it took him a while to realize what was going on, to even register that someone was hurting the crown prince.

"His Royal Majesty was right," the man said, approaching his face to Arthur's until they were inches apart. He looked straight into the boy's bulged eyes. "You were spoiled rotten. You're soft." He scrapped Arthur's cheek with his rough and calloused thumb. "You have baby fat. How old are you? Three? Four?"

Arthur tried to say he was six but realized he couldn't speak or breathe. He grabbed the man's arm to try to take it away but found unbudging muscles that felt like solid rock. The grand knight didn't even seem to notice Arthur's desperate slaps and scratches.

"You will obey my every command, do you understand?" he asked, and Arthur nodded frantically. "And you will do it fast, do you understand?" Arthur nodded again. "And you will not complain about it. In fact, you will not even talk unless spoken to. Do you understand?" Arthur barely had the strength to nod again.

The grand knight released the prince, who fell to the ground and focused on breathing and caressing his sore throat.

"Stand up and follow me," the man repeated his order.

Arthur wanted to do anything but that. He wanted to stay down and recover after the terrible mistreatment. He wanted to go to his mom and complain.

But when he looked at the other two grand knights in the room, they weren't looking at him. They didn't care. And if he asked for their help and they ignored him... That would count as talking without permission, wouldn't it?

Arthur didn't want to hurt again.

So he stood up with teary eyes and followed the man out of the Ritual Room while rubbing his throat.

[A/N: And so, it begins. ]

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