Of course, news of the King's statements never goes unpublished, from the largest, despicable editing team to the lowest, self-claimed, and poverty-minded instrument and workers lacking company; the news was written. Some with the utmost truth, others with the addition of that which any reader would clearly love to read—utmost gossip and rumor, nothing near to any King's statement whatsoever, but this. These kinds of news were what the bourgeois editors waited for, and for the peasants, well, all the good they would do is raise an eyebrow as they arch their aching backs, working for the leads and the haves team. Sometimes it was despicable; I mean the news. But this time, it was interesting. I even found myself laughing about it because who says I am to be the King of England? Well, dear reader, maybe laughing with me would be better, but I was not. Not in the slightest bit, laughing with my eyes; my mouth was the only thing open, with teeth showing. They were not good news, and I knew I was in danger, or rather, my place in this society would either be banned or tarnished.
However, this boy Willock always had plans. If I were to be tarnished again, I sure would leave for Iraq and finally marry one of the princesses there. I knew they still had a liking for me. I respect women; don't get me wrong, but my cockiness sometimes gets the better of me. Maybe this is what I inherited from the despicable sins of my parents. Why would they cease to ignore and go against the likes and wants of the society? What exactly was Mother thinking? However, it has never been a good omen when a child starts complaining about the actions their parents did, leading to his or her birth, so I sure stopped myself from thinking of that. But just thank God I am alive.
I had arrived earlier after my stay in that hotel. The difference between my brother and I was, I loved art, and he loved women. Women sure would be the death of him. I wonder how many have seen his naked body. It just never really makes sense to me, or am I the one ought not to be normal? Maybe I am abnormal, but one thing just binds me, and that is this thing I am. If I were to be the real Duke, then sure be I would find pleasures in these ladies, with no mercy and with an utter seek for nothing but pleasure.
"Lord Wilock, the Duke wants a word," one of the guards stated to me, prompting me to leave for the library where father now always worked.
"Business works, Father," I stated upon arrival.
"Have a seat, son," to which I complied without hesitation. "I see you have done well in all the works and assignments I left. I am so proud of you. It's a pity it might not be long enough before your real family starts claiming a share of you," he added.
"You are my family, Father. I seek no pleasures in humans who never raised me," I stated.
"Mind your language, son. They sure are the reason you are here. They sure are," he stated, deeply staring at me.
"What am I to do then?" I asked.
"Truth is, son, if you are to marry the princess, you cannot bring her here, for this is the least of your homes. Your real family is the viscount and the King's palace," he stated, making me nervously shake my left leg. Something I always did when I felt really uncomfortable or had no solution. So, all I did was nod my head vigorously, not just to convey that I agreed, but also to help me understand and digest whatever he was telling me.
Of course, my roots were never here; that I knew from the first time I saw my brother's hair turn shady black while mine was quite brown. That time when I realized my eyes and everyone's in this family were totally different—mine shined blue, while theirs were black with dark pupils.
"The King's cottage will be here to correct us; we shall hear his statements on the matter," he stated, dismissing me right away. I always feared facing the King; that was something I truly did fear. The last time we visited, they had quite a difficult argument with Father. I wonder what had suddenly softened Father's heart to the extent he clearly now wanted me to leave. What had really happened? What were the terms on which he was provided that made him forget that I was in no command nor understanding of the people I would live with? If I am to stay in the palace, the only being I would be in speech with would be the princess, and maybe that is enough. Having the princess beside me, isn't that beautiful? I suddenly stopped being skeptical and finally looked forward to it.
"After some hours, the cottage arrived, and Father, Charles, and I left for the palace. It was one hell of a quiet journey that even made me sleep most of the way. It seemed boring for Charles, who feared Father and so never really spoke when he was around. He just could not speak. I sometimes never really understood why he feared this man. Father was never rough; he was tough and strict, but he never once laid a hand on us—never, unlike the Baron's son, Richard, who was always beaten.
"Welcome, please have a seat," one of the guards stated. Yes, we had arrived. It was my second time in this palace—yeah, second if I am counting it right. And if there is another, maybe that was nothing but a dream. I had experienced life in the palace; I sure had, but it was far away in these lands. Father only knew where I was, and of course, the princess and prince—oh, they knew. Almost everyone knew, maybe except the viscount, or maybe he too knew. That was not something I should be thinking about right now. I should focus on what to anticipate regarding the King's call for an audience.
"The Duke of Vikings, Willock, and the younger son, what a great day this is," the king started. He seemed not to know my brother's name.
"It's great," Father stated, and we found ourselves opening our mouths but altering nothing. My mind was still clouded with what the King was going to say. How is he my father? I found myself wondering. His hair, of course, was somewhat a copy of mine—brown—and his chin, but he was full of beards, hence one would not acknowledge where the chin started. But seeing him with beards made me delighted; maybe if I am his son, I will inherit those.
"Okay, I called you here to speak about Willock's demands. The princess has been in my protection ever since she was young, a little girl from the basics of Italia. What do you find impressive about her?" he asked, which somehow made me feel uneasy. Was it an honest question, or was it a question of sarcasm or some sort of 'why's that men ask when they find a girl you like unattractive'?
"She understands me, Your Majesty," I stated. I always used 'majesty' when addressing him; of course, he was the King of England, I found myself scolding.
"She is family," he stated.
"Of course, but she is not close to my bloodline," I stated, trying to make it casual.
"You are my bloodline, but I know where your head is with this. Or maybe you have no idea that you belong to my bloodline?" He stated, making the most crazed smile I have ever seen, with his eyebrows quite raised.
"I have heard stories," I stated, making His Majesty laugh even more.
"However, I know my wrongs are not to be corrected in any way. My past haunts me day in and day out. You were, I did a mistake, the worst mistake any king would ever do. I was a young prince embracing the likeness of being young, healthy, and having all the attention I could ever ask for. The only way I can correct this mistake is by truly accepting what you asked for. So yes, I shall make arrangements for you and my dearest princess. She was really unhappy after your leave; it almost also killed me, and it would be the worst of me not granting both of you the happiness you desire," he stated, and sure enough, I could not hide the happiness in my eyes. My smile was clearly shown, and despite how quiet Father was, I just found myself standing up and tightly thanking His Majesty for giving me the chance—the chance of finally fulfilling the dreams I have always had in regard to the princess.
"However," he continued, "you are to stay here after marriage. I will make a house for you to stay, and your chambers will be well arranged. I believe the Scottish kingdom or Wales, palace is quite huge; I can transfer both of you there." And I sat down as my happiness went low and low.
"Am I not to stay as a Duke?" I asked. "I belong to Father; I am Father's property," I continued, trying to look at Father, who seemed to nod when the King stated that. "Father, do you agree to this?" I asked.
"Prince Willock, show some respect to His Majesty," Father stated, making me feel taken back by even the word of honor he used on me. What was it Father was provided? I wondered. I knew he was some sort of corrupt and detail-oriented man in regard to the Lake of Tigris activities and the things of Armstrong, but for the first time, I felt betrayed by one whom I know would never.
"The preparations shall start; you can go break the news to the viscount," His Majesty stated, stood, and left.
"Father, you sure called me a prince; are you even serious? Is this—what did he offer for you to do this unto me?"
"Willock, you are your father's son, and your father is he, the King of England. Anything against him would mean a decline in my family and my relations with other barons, dukes, viscounts, and leaders in this land," he stated, trying hard not to raise his voice.
"Is that how your chessboard works? Just some knight soldier sold away for the betterment of power, or am I just a soldier? What am I to you, Father?" I asked, which made Charles catch my shoulder firmly.
"This was your fate, brother. You can never run away from it," Charles stated, and I saw them leave.
"Then at least take me to the viscount."
"I have done my part; raising you was the part of the deal, but you are a Viscount blood. He is your family; we are not. Goodbye, Willock. I wish you good fortunes; I believe my teachings will be of benefit to you," Father stated.