Chapter 1
The outer ring downtown market bustled with the familiar thrum of city nightlife. Drunk men and women hung on each other's shoulders, slurring their speech, and laughing at things that plainly weren't that funny to me. They weren't supposed to be drunk, but downtown, no one really cared, not even the police, who were often in the same state. I lifted my head, having been staring at the ground for a while, counting the loose change I had begged for, for what felt like the fifteenth time. I hoped something fun would happen soon. Otherwise, I suppose I could pick up my things and head back home. Apprehension clawed at my stomach like hunger, and I let out a low groan. Home. I'd rather not. I thought bitterly. Just then, a familiar voice broke over the din of the bustling market.
"Well, tell Wendy she's not the fucking end-all be-all and do the damn deal," hissed a wealthy businessman into his phone as he passed me by. I perked up, recognizing the gravely undertones of his deep voice. He was dressed in a fine black suit, with one of the new electric ties the wealthy had recently gotten in to - it shone in bright blue on his chest, but wasn't enough to be distracting. I thought they were kind of tacky myself. His polished black shoes clacked softly on the pavement. He pushed a wrinkled hand through his short greying hair, brown eyes hot with anger.
I looked up at him, long greasy hair falling from my eyes with what I hoped was a pathetic, pleading stare. He scoffed at me, rolling his eyes before digging into his black trousers and lazily tossing a few coins my way. I hungrily snatched them up, muttering to myself and breathing heavily like a rabid animal. He scurried away, his look of disgust lined with traces of fear. I chuckled softly to myself. It was always good fun messing with the peasants - but it didn't compare to playing with father's friends.
I thought back to when I lived in the palace. It was more of a lavish mansion, but the locals had always called it the palace, and so eventually everyone did. I recalled how handsome I'd once been, thinking back to when the maids combed through my long black hair, washed my hands and feet, dressed me, and doted on my every desire. Ahh, I miss it. I sighed pensively, reaching for the broken mirror piece I kept in my raged jacket pocket. The plaid pattern had torn in several places, and as I slipped the mirror fragment out it caught on some of the worn cotton threads and an unpleasant plucking sound signaled that more stitching had come loose. I tugged aggressively at it, feeling satisfied at the snap of thread as it broke free. I let out another sigh at the inconvenience of my clothing tearing further.
The sound of my brother Shelby's voice rang out in my mind, chastising me for being so dramatic. It wasn't like I'd been away from home for years or anything. I couldn't help it though, life was just so much better being me at home. Heir to the throne, born with bright green eyes, dark black hair, my mothers clear complexion, the strong jaw of my father and his father before him, a deep voice just like the rest of the men in my family, I'd inherited my fathers height too, all six foot five inches of it. And to top it off the goddess had blessed me with talent enough to woo the masses. I could sing, dance, make music, and dabbled in poetry.
I held the mirror up to my face, moving it around to catch my entire appearance. No wonder Mr. Fang hadn't recognized me, I was a mess. My long black hair had clumped in several places at the top of my head, the rest hanging about in long, greasy strands framing my thin, pale face. Dirt had been smeared rather convincingly across my normally handsome features. I smiled, my perfect teach disguised as now yellow and crooked. Shelby had really outdone himself this time. I shook my head laughing softly, he really never knew when to stop. This time, it worked so well my own father's closest associate hadn't known it was me.
"Suppose I better head back home though, it's getting dark and mother will be missing me," I mumbled to myself. I had been gone for a week, she'd likely been worried sick. A pang of guilt lanced through my stomach and I winced slightly. I really ought to stop worrying her like this. But it's just so fun. I stood up, straightening up to my full height and stretching my back. A pang rang out as my head bumped a low hanging sign and I massaged it cursing. A full week of crawling at strangers feet, sleeping in alley's, and crouching really took a toll on me. I cracked my back and turned to face the direction of the palace, whose lights shone brightly even between the tall city buildings. The bustling downtown market buzzed with music, the sound of street food vendors cooking and shouting orders, and drunk civilians and yet it fell upon deaf ears. A low ringing sounded in my ears, accompanied by the faintest traces of deep booming shouts, and smothered by a soft patient voice as if I were underwater. Mother would probably cry when I walked through the front doors. Father would be displeased I had bothered to return at all.
I shrugged and began walking towards home. A warm home cooked meal sounded pretty tempting right about now. Besides that I really needed to be back home for a ceremony. One I had been dreading these past few years. It was my time to serve in the military, and that meant they would cut my long hair, shave my beard, and send me off to boot camp. It was something all men in the city of Xeurron had to do when they came of age. I envied the old days where turning twenty one meant you got to go out and drink alcohol legally, could rent the magnetic rail cars, and even visit the local brothels. My father had done away with all that, calling it "evil nonsense" claiming it violated what our society ought to see as moral. He'd always been pretty old fashioned, he was more strict than my grandfather was by far, and more strict than even the past three generations of Kings.
It had been under him that martial law existed, during his rule that drinking had been heavily restricted to only those who had, or couldn't serve their mandatory five years, and done away with brothels or sex work entirely. Gambling was outlawed four years into his reign, drugs had all been basically eradicated, and crime was at an all time low. At least that's what he paid the news outlets, and police forces to report. Having been here myself on and off posing as a vagabond for the last three years - I knew it was a different story. The underground of Xeurron had never been better off, and though crime wasn't obvious on the surface streets, all one had to do was reach a few of the outer city blocks to know that this wasn't the paradise my father believed it to be. I liked knowing this fact, that despite his most desperate efforts - people would still manage to do what they pleased.
As I approached the golden tipped, iron gates I paused for a moment; drinking in the scents of the gardens behind me, the fresh air, the slightly sour tang of machinery, the scents of freshly mowed grass, and blooming flowers. Robotic gardeners bustled about me, finishing up the final touches of pruning for the evening. They were usually out here late into the night as father preferred not to see them during the day. He liked having everything looking perfect when he woke, and took a daily stroll through the property to ensure all was up to his expectations.
Nighttime was when I usually prowled the gardens and grounds, knowing I wasn't likely to encounter him, knowing it felt as close to freedom as I could get behind these walls, before I passed through the gates that lead to the front doors. I'd had plenty of conversations with the AI powered bots as well, many of them having been programmed with personalities and given manufactured memories. That was mom's idea. She'd wanted them to seem more human as she missed when there were human grounds keepers here. Father didn't, he seemed to barely tolerate us.
"Good evening Prince Alby," said one of the groundskeepers who had been polishing the gold atop the gate. His voice had been pitched slightly higher so as to make him sound more pleasant, something my mother had asked to be done to nearly all the male bots here. His long legs extended fully so that he could reach the top. He came smoothly down, a soft whirring and clicking sound accompanying him as he matched my height and his legs came softly back together.
"Hey BT53," I replied.
"Would you like me to escort you to the front doors sir?" he gestured with sweeping motion towards the front doors and bowed low.
"No that's alright, and stand up, you know I hate the bowing," I replied, a teasing tone in my voice. I didn't want him to think I was upset with him.
"Of course sir," he said, his robotic voice sounded happy. BT53's soft blue screen face lit up with a happy face emoji made up of two triangles without the bottoms for eyes and what looked like the number three, giving him a cat like appearance. It was probably one of my favorite ways this bot emoted. None of the others mimicked that particular one. BT53 wore his gardeners overalls tonight, and his square shaped head was adorned with a large brown round sunhat, he'd topped it off with some genuine leather gloves, and heavy black boots.
"Nice cloves BT, where'd you get 'em?" I asked looking them over. BT53 had been wearing worn gloves for years and real leather was extremely rare these days.
"Lady Rain sir, she's very generous," he replied, his round eyes blinking as he tilted his head like a curious dog and gave a polite smile.
I nodded and patted him on his metal shoulder, "Mother always liked you best," I replied, smiling warmly at him. Truth was I always liked him best too. He was the gentlest of them, and the most "human". Just then warm light began to spill across the cobble stone walkway ahead of me as a rectangular beam seemed to spill across the marble steps leading to the front doors. A tall figure emerged almost out of thin air, the shoulders were broad, and a deep booming voice echoed out.
"Get inside," the command was finite and curt. There was no mistaking who stood before me. I immediately began to walk forward, letting my hand drop in defeat from BT's shoulder, and the iron gates moved silently away from me, opening inward as I passed through. BT53 bowed not to me, but to my father who had now turned his back and begun walking away.
"Good luck, sir," whispered BT53 as I passed him. I nodded in response. This'll be interesting. I thought apprehensively. I reached the stairs, then the front door, and with a deep breath and heavy sigh, I stepped inside.
