1 chapter 1

Deep within the walls of a Grand Palace, in a great kingdom inhabited by many people, it was once considered, under the rule of another just king, a safe place for all mankind. However, now that that era is long over, the kingdom became a nightmare to live in, and nothing burdened the villagers more than their unjust daily chores, and the discrimination that ruled the dirty streets of the kingdom is; for there were those who opened the doors of their shops awaiting customers, and there were those who went for a picnic with the family, but also there were those who starved til death, every single day.

However, at the end of the day, truly, that was not really the depth of the palace walls, and it was not acceptance that really kept the villagers quiet, but rather fear. For everyone who lived there knew about the constant tension and hatred which took place of abode, dwelt, and afflicted in the hearts of the owners of the palace. Everyone knew that within the palace walls, there lived monsters and enemies disguised as the happy, royal family.

It was fear that kept them all silent. Fear of the royal family, but mostly him.

—-

Across the carriage-windows, landscapes went leaping. The bleak clearness of brisk March skies, and the shining greyness of meadows from which mists were slowly rising were giving a bleak image to the once picturesque view. The world looked old and grey. As the carriage dashed by, new-born lambs, unused to such disturbances, tottered after their mothers.

Winter was coming to life, taking over the whole view. Things which had seemed alive in the summer, and went dying in fall, now we're being ripped from life completely. He watched it all disturbingly and impatiently; it was for the end of the journey that he was yearning for.

On nearing London the carriage slowed down as though reluctant to leave the country.

Despite his lameness, he was the first passenger to rise from his seat. He had no luggage to attend to, save the newly-purchased bag which he carried.

He lost no time in hurrying down the platform; when he hurried his limp became more painful to bear. As he passed through the barrier he slowed down his pace. With his greater height he could glance above the heads of the crowd in the station; his eyes went questing in all directions. They failed to find what they sought. He delayed until nearly all the people from the incoming carriages had gone; then, masking his disappointment, he wandered out into the station-yard to call another carriage to take him to the palace.

A carriage with brown horses, and a driver in tattered clothing was drawn up against the curb almost immediately. He got into it, and watched from the window as a passing parade of the king's army passed by. A thrill of hostility shot through him.

He eyed it casually and was passing on, when a young girl in the back seat stood up frantically waving. She was dressed in the latest of fashion; but it was her that he saw rather than her clothes. Her gold bobbed hair was like an angel's. Her eyes were clear and deep as violets. She was exquisitely vibrant and alive—scarcely beautiful; her nose turned up at the top. He sought for the right words to express her beauty, but couldn't. Perhaps he was attracted to her light-hearted health and girlish freshness.

The old man walked on the hard marble floors of the palace, proudly, and despite his advanced age, it was hard for anyone to deny how beautiful this old man looked. For His age did but little to change anything about his features, except, perhaps, that over the years, his prestige has increased even more than before.

As he walked with perfect strides,an antique-looking file in his right hand, everyone who came across his way, stopped and bowed respectfully to the old man. And after a long way through the corridors of the palace, which were littered with hanging portraits, pictures and candles, he stood before a dark brown and heavy door. He knocked respectfully, then entered after seconds of knocking on the door, knowing that his master would never answer to the knocker, whichever he was.

He went inside, closed the door behind him, and looked at the majestic man who was sitting behind his brown desk. The window behind him made him look like an artistic portrait drawn by the same artists whose work thrived at the palace walls. He couldn't deny his master's unique beauty, which everyone recognized and agreed that the prince's handsomeness surpassed that of the king. Yes, indeed, the prince was greater in looks, but also in physique than his older brother the king! However, the man sitting in his chair did not pay any attention to the old man who entered his room without consent, or even gave him a glimpse of interest, for his focus was solely on the papers in his hand that he worked on all the time.

The old man took forward steps calmly, and tactfully until he reached the dark brown desk to place the file on the table in front of his master.

"I must have interrupted you, master, but what's on my hands is an urgent matter." The old man's respectful and calm tone proved that he had a great experience with people of stature, which meant he possessed great patience. However, he never truly dealt or even met a person like his current master, for he was one of a kind. Praying for a reply, he closed his eyes and put his hands behind his back as he stood in front of his master's desk, who, as usual, did not grace him with anything in reply.

His master, as if in a dream, lifted his face to the old man's and gave him a cold, scrutinising look. He seemed to be thinking of something, but it was hard for the old man to know what he was thinking. He was shrewd, genius and also very frightening. Cruel, dull, and lacking in feelings. No, scratch that, in fact he didn't really have them in the first place.

" Explain." The tone of the young prince's voice was soft, yet cold. In fact, this was their best interaction so far. For, despite all the young prince's defects, he indeed still respected the old man in the end, because he had always been the only one who had never disappointed him and never left him alone.

Opening his eyes to speak respectfully while looking at his master's expression that never changed, the old man started to explain, "The file contains important information gathered by the spy you hired, your highness, and there is also an invitation to the party of the Duke of Ambershire's daughter, who has invited you, sir." The old man noticed that his master was calm and cold all around his sleepy green eyes, and his calmness, which always frightened the people around him, was, like always, a third member between them in the closed room. It was difficult for those around him to know what a terrifying person like him was thinking .

"Decline the invitation, Gilbert, you can go now." After a few moments of silence, his master answered coldly as he began to lift the file again with his big, solid hands.

"I hope you will excuse me for my rudeness, but King Oliver will be at the party, your highness." The old man said, after bowing respectfully, bracing himself to leave.

At that, the young man behind the desk looked at the old man again. Well, he should have known Oliver would be there, since everyone knew that his brother would not miss an opportunity to see new women, even if his life depended on it. On the other hand, he hated gatherings and loud parties. After thinking for a while, he answered, breaking the deathly silence which had fallen over the place.

" So be it then, I will be there." The prince finally replied.

His old servant smiled when he heard his master's forced tone which was mingled with annoyance, but well, after all, he knew that it was important for him to go, despite the fact that the reason for the party was rather ridiculous; for Lady Mary had made the very first cake of her own, and her parents were throwing a party to celebrate! However, It was no surprise, after all, the work of the nobles was to throw frivolous parties, which ensued and caused many losses to the kingdom, even King Oliver was not different from them. In fact, he was but a figurehead who only followed his lusts and whims, and did not even perform the work of a king.

"Sir, about traitors in the palace..." The old man started again, speaking seriously to his master who shifted his weight uncomfortably on his luxurious chair as he held the spy's papers and inspected them with pure interest. Hearing the old servant's voice again, the master drew his attention and slowly put the papers on the table and put his palm on his right cheek, saying coldly and with a scary smile that sent chills to the old man.

"Get rid of the little bugs, Gilbert."

The old man, Gilbert, knew that smile. It was the smile of shedding blood. His master never smiled, and if he did then everyone should know that someone will be killed, murdered in the most ugly ways. Gilbert tried to control himself after seeing his master's frightening, smiley face and said before bowing respectfully, "Alright then, sir, allow me to go now."

After a moment of silence, when he didn't get an answer, Gilbert moved around, straight out of his master's office.