Chapter 3: The Night Visitors and The Tarnished Crown

The girl had strawberry twin braids and a mischievous smile. Her eyes nestled deep into their sockets as if someone had too much coffee. Wearing a violet off-shoulder dress and bunny ears, she had killer heels to complete her ensemble.

“What do you want in the middle of the night?” Larson furrowed his brows, leaning by the door with crossed arms.

The girl retorted, “You should be the one coming up to me and giving thanks for saving your butt from becoming dragon chow.”

“Because of your HELP, we had to redo the trial again.” He clashed his brown eyebrows at her.

She squeezed his cheeks. “You look so cute when you’re angry!”

“Quit it!” He flicked her hands. They left red marks on his cheeks. “What brings you here, anyway?”

“So feisty!” A temporary frown drew on her face, followed by a shrug. “At least you had the king’s attention.”

“Wha- What did you just say?” Larson’s black eyes widened twice the normal size.

She stretched an impish smile. “You heard me. I heard he wanted to have an audience with you. The castle guards are on their way as we speak.”

“Why?” He could not wrap his finger around her words.

She pushed her way in. “You wouldn’t mind if you let me into your room, would you?”

Larson’s heart turned into stone upon realizing what she said. He returned his gaze to her. “Hey! Who said you could come in?”

“Shh! I hear them coming.” The unnamed girl slid under his bed like a nightmare waiting to emerge from his dream.

“Larson Wolfe?” Two men in blazing armor stopped in front of him.

He faced them, leaving the door ajar behind him. “What can I do for you, dear sirs?”

“Is there anyone else inside?” One of them pointed a spear at him.

Larson’s mind raced. He slightly turned his head toward the bed, and the girl put a finger on her lips.

“There’s no one here, but me.”

“We heard another voice before we arrived.” Both men stretched their vision beyond the door, straining their necks.

Larson obscured most of their view. “It must be your imagination.”

“You wouldn’t mind if we check inside, would you?” They pushed him aside, forcing their way in.

The knights searched every corner of the tiny room. Aside from the yellow bed, there was no table, cabinet, or window decorating the area. One knight kneeled and peered under the bed. A strip of sweat crawled down Larson’s neck.

As he grasped his spear and pointed it at the abyss underneath, his colleague called him, “Hey, let’s go. We shouldn’t keep the king waiting.”

Like a thorn surgically removed from his chest, Larson breathed with ease.

“Come, boy, you are coming with us!” They grabbed his arms, lifting him off the ground with some effort.

Larson snapped his head back to his room, and the girl smiled, peering from the bed’s darkness.

“What are you looking at, boy?” A knight asked with irritation.

A meek reply came from Larson. “Uhh, nothing.”

“Keep your eyes on the path!” A stern reprimand from the knight. “We’re not escorting you back once the king’s done with you.”

A few turns on the hallway and they reached the king’s chamber. Inside was as empty as Larson’s designated room, but twice as big. Instead of a bed, a platinum throne with a man occupying it appeared at the far end of the room.

The knights dropped Larson, pressing their hands on his shoulders in front of the king.

The once platinum crown was stained with gray and green. As he leaned from his throne, Larson noticed the king’s skin on his arm draping on bone. "Where had all his meat gone?" He thought.

The king glanced at him from head to toe. His voice was hallow, “So… this is him?”

Larson swallowed an enormous lump of saliva down his throat. His stomach churned before the presence of a white-haired man with beard extending to his waist.

He could not bring himself to look at the highest authoritative figure of Luxene.

“Was it true? You are the one who killed my dearest Freiya?” The king’s glaring intensity glued Larson’s lips.

“Speak you, mutt! The king is asking you a question!” Alcanor appeared behind the king’s throne in full platinum armor. He seemed to have recovered himself from embarrassment.

Larson trembled, and his breath crawled. What’s a boy to say in this situation? He couldn’t admit what he did, fearing a far greater demise to befall him.

King Noel demanded, “Lift your chin, boy, and tell me your name.”

“L-Larson Wolfe, Your Highness.” The boy’s voice fought through his quaking teeth with lips drying like a soda cracker.

“Ah, so you are that bastard’s son.” The crowned man’s face lightened for a second. “You have grown to be a fine boy.”

Larson perked up. “You knew my father?”

Alcanor slapped Larson’s face with his metal glove. “Where are your manners, boy?”

“Urgh!” Larson groaned like a foot stepped on a dog’s paw.

“Alcanor! Gather your men and guard the door.” His Highness sternly commanded.

“But Your Highness—“

The king wasn’t having any of it. “Now, Alcanor!”

“Understood, my king.” He bowed and walked out of the door with his men in tow.

Larson recovered on his knees and massaged his swollen cheek. King Noel rushed to the room behind the throne and pulled out an ice pack. Humbled by the king’s kindness, he quickly shoved it on his cheek.

“You can speak freely now.” He urged the boy.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Larson straightened himself up. “What I learned from my mother is that he was a great man.”

“Your father surely was. A virtuoso to a fault, he served the country well.” A moment of silence ensued before he continued. “That bastard said he would rescue my daughter, but he died alone. He was the best in his league, so I expected he could bring her back.”

“Nobody told me he died looking for your daughter!” The boy’s brows clashed together. “All I knew was that he failed on a secret mission when your men delivered his body to my home.”

“Right.” The king sighed from his diaphragm. “I didn’t want anybody outside the castle to learn about my missing daughter.”

Larson’s blood rushed up to his head and he curled his fists.