Chapter 1
The Prince stormed out of the palace infuriated at his father, and utterly embarrassed with tears streaming down his face. He arrived at the front entrance and took a lantern off the wall, then walked furiously to the stables and mounted his white horse. The prince heard his guards yell before him, telling him to wait, but without another thought the prince, on his horse, bolted into the village.
The prince had hoped that there would be an inn that he could stay at for the night. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of staying in a small dusty room for the night but at this point he wanted anything but to go back to his home.
They found themselves farther away from the palace, the horse’s pace started to slow as the prince’s mood mellowed. They passed criminals and peasants and even a pregnant woman who looked homeless. The prince felt disgusted that a woman would ever do that to herself, especially since she was poor and in no position to bear a child.
The prince arrived at the closest inn he could find and healed the horse to tie him to a post. He walked inside and scoffed at the people drinking, covered in dirt, grease, and old, worn-out clothing. The men around him recognized him and mocked him because of his red, puffy cheeks from crying a few minutes prior. They acknowledged him as their prince which made it all the funnier to them that he - such a privileged, well taken care of man - was crying. The prince of course ignored them, he had no patience to deal with peasants that were only jealous of him. He, approaching the owner, said, “Hello, I need a room to stay at for the night, and I do not expect a no because I am the prince, and you will do as I say.” in a rushed, impatient tone.
“No. All our rooms are taken,” she said, seemingly without an ounce of care. She never even made eye contact with her prince as she continued to dry a glass with a stained rag.
“But you must at once! I am the prince-your prince” He replied a little more nervously, but still with an intense voice.
“Look here your majesty, I don’t have to do nothing. This is my business, and I don’t have to do shit for ya.”
The prince turned furious immediately after he heard that; he was cold, tired, and tetchy. “Whatever, I would not want to sleep in this filthy tavern anyway.” He paused, not really sure what to say next, “By the way, I’ll have you know that I will be speaking to my father about this. I’m sure he wouldn’t be happy to hear that you rejected your future king.” The prince spat.
“And I’m sure Daddy would love to hear about how you ran away from your pretty little castle to sleep in ‘Peasant Land.’” She mocked.
The prince turned mumbling, “you’ll be beheaded one day.” and with that, he left the building angrily and walked down the street, looking for another place and leaving his horse behind. He was sure there were guards following him, and that it’ll be picked up if he doesn’t come back for it.
He stopped momentarily, he never thought before about how to live on his own, even for a night. He never dressed or bathed himself, and in fact he wasn’t even sure if a tavern had a bath, and sleeping in his own filth just didn’t appease him. He thought about turning around and going back home, he didn’t want to, but it seemed to be his only option, so the prince did just that. He turned on his heels, retracing his steps, and walked back to his horse. As he was mounting; just moments later, the prince felt a stinging pain and lost consciousness.
The prince woke up in a room made almost entirely of wood. What is this place? He thought. The room had an awful stench of dirt, rum, mold, and a slight hint of salt. The room was swaying which made the prince feel faint and nauseous, and he could hear indistinct talking -or cheering?- from above him.
He sat up so he was seated on the cot he woke up on, wondering where he was and what could’ve possibly happened, and who would ever kidnap him, the prince? Who would have the audacity to harm him in any way? He wasn’t too worried; however, because he knew that the royal guard would be out looking for him and he’d be home in no time, and he believed that no one would ever kill him.
The prince took in the room, confused on why it’s so small and dirty. He didn’t even think the village peasants had rooms this small - just enough to fit a cot and a small wardrobe. As he finished observing, a muscular man entered the room. He had dark, greasy hair and dirty clothes. He looked like one of the men at the inn just a few hours ago… or however long ago that was. The only different thing about him was that he was dressed better, he was much more… alluring; At least, that’s what the prince believed; although, he would never admit it, not even to himself. “Where are the maids to clean this dump?” the Prince asked, disgusted of what this man had thrown him in.
“Finnley, what a pleasure to have you aboard.” The man said, ignoring the question, “My name is Captain Xorynne.”
That voice, that accent, the prince thought to himself as his mind wandered off. He’s never really heard any other accents before besides the ones in Estraria, so he was rather astonished by what he heard. The dead silence lasted a few seconds too long until Captain Xorynne snapped him back into reality by slamming the door shut behind himself. “No need to drool over me Finnley… at least not yet.” The captain smirked, teasing the prince who let his jaw drop just slightly. “It’s Prince Finnley to you, and truthfully I was not drooling, I was simply just surprised at how… dirty you look.” The prince swallowed and said with as much boldness as he could put on, “Now, I suggest you let me go before my father sends the whole sea guard after you and your pirate ship.”
Captain Xorynne was surprised by Prince Finnley’s confidence but nonetheless carried on with his plan anyways. “Well Princess, you won’t be let go until I turn you into the king and I get the money I need from him. So I suggest that you make yourself comfortable.” The captain spat. “We stole your horse by the way.” He mentioned as he walked away, slamming the door once again and leaving the prince alone in the room.
Finnley sat in lonely silence, the cheering and yelling calmed down; now all he could hear was the splashing waves of the surrounding ocean as it hit the wooden sides of the ship. My horse was stolen by these nasty thieves, there are no more hints as to where I am. Alone with nothing but his thoughts, the prince kept over thinking until fatigue and exhaustion took over his mind and body.
Later that night Xorynne came back with food for Finnley. The captain handed the prince a plate with chicken, bread, and a cup filled with water - or what he thought was water. Prince Finnley, without hesitation, took a sip, but immediately spit it back up. “Disgusting! What is this? It tastes rancid!”
Captain Xorynne wiped the spit up liquid off his face. “Princess.” He scoffed under his breath.
“Will you stop calling me that!” Prince Finnley cried.
A lady entered the room once she heard the yelling. She had short, brown, and curly hair that had a headband in it as an accessory, and dark, dull, green eyes and a darker toned skin. She had scars on her right cheek, just below her eye and one on her left jaw. She looked like she was the type of person who’s never smiled in her life. “Aw, is the princess gonna cry?” she mocked the pathetic looking man.
Prince Finnley glared at her as he made a tch noise. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know it’s bad luck to have a woman on a ship?”
The woman pushed the prince against the wall and with no hesitation pulled a knife out of a sheath on her thigh; She put the tip to the bottom of his jaw. “Say that again, Princess.”
The prince stayed silent out of fear, he didn’t want to die and he certainly would not be surprised if she did happen to stab him. “That’s enough Pharah!” The captain said. To the prince, his voice seemed much louder than it possibly was. Pharah let go of the shirt but still nicked the prince as a warning sign. “Estoy seguro de que el rey no nos dará nada si matamos al novio de su hija.”
“Entonces… en otras palabras, ¿podemos matarlo después?” Pharah asked with a hopeful tone.
“No, Pharah.”
Pharah responded with a disappointed reaction, but the prince fell onto his bed losing hope. Even though he had no clue what they were saying, he only assumed it wasn’t good. The captain dropped his plate on the floor making a loud thud, and left the room with his quartermaster, laughing at the hopeless prince.
Finnley felt the blood dripping down his neck and wiped it up with a towel that was on his plate. He picked it up off the floor and sat alone on his cot, feeling the rocking of the ship and eating as much food as he could choke down. It had not much flavor and the chicken tasted like it was about to rot. He didn’t drink anymore because he didn’t like the taste of the rum he was given and he hadn’t received any water from the captain. In his heart he felt a sharp pain, maybe guilt, or humiliation, or maybe just lost hope and sadness. Prince Finnley has always felt so safe in the protected walls of his palace, but he felt so vulnerable here, there was no one to protect him and he hadn’t the slightest clue on how to protect himself. Everyone here seemed to want to hurt him, in one way or another. For the first time in his life, he felt a new certainty of fear and horror. Before now, he was rarely ever let outside the palace; especially, not without a guard. Now he doesn’t have the slightest clue how far away his home is or even how long he’s been gone, if there’s anyone looking for him or worried, or if anyone even cares…
