Sound of frantic footsteps echoed in the deserted hallway as a pair of boot clad feet hurried towards a room at the end of a dimly lit corridor.
Nearing closer to the door, the man tried to calm his erratic heartbeat and silence his loud panting.
Standing in front of a white oak door he paused for a moment to catch his breath, admiring the beautiful, swirling patterns engraved on the door.
An old man in his early seventies, glanced up from the document he was absorbed in, an irritated look plastered on his face at being disturbed. Aged like fine wine, the man with his soft grey hair and well groomed beard had an imposing aura, strong and authoritative, surrounding him like a loyal shadow. He sat up straight in his chair, bright, white lights reflecting on his gold-rimmed spectacles. His wrinkles and folds that came with age and experience, failed to hide the face that must have killed ladies in his youth.
“Come in,” his low baritone bounced off the expensive stone walls making the servant outside shudder in anxiety at the power dripping from his voice. He did not come bearing good news.
With shaky hands he turned the knob and opened the door.
“Your highness,” he greeted with a half-body bow as he stepped inside with his hands by his sides, fingers curled up into fists.
“Speak, Luca. Why do you come alone?” The old man placed his pen down, stroking his imposing grey beard which could make even the stormiest, gray clouds jealous. His sharp grey eyes, a trait shared by him and his brethren didn’t miss the slight tremble of his hands and feet. Amusement danced along with the reflecting lights in his eyes as he read the servant’s countenance and interrupted him before he could answer.
“Let me guess what must have happened...”
𝙏𝙬𝙤 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙜𝙤~
A young man in his early twenties walked out of a huge building that had a regal appearance, matching the bold letters displayed at the top on its head- ‘ROYAL AIRPORT’. He had an expensive-looking leather bag slung over his shoulder. He used his free hand to shield his eyes from the vertical rays of the bright sun.
Dressed in a simple white Guchic shirt and black pants, the man looked ethereal with his sharp jaw, defined nose, soft-looking thin lips, and eyes as gray and cloudy as an April day.
His body build was strong and firm, like ancient pine.
His mop of slightly long, raven locks laid on his head, adding to his charm as they looked glossy and lustrous under the sunlight.
Another man who looked a few years older than him, impeccably dressed in a white and gold uniform, approached the young lad with a respectful smile and greeted him with a bow.
He noticed the luggage and spoke up in a gentle tone,” May I take the bag m-”
“No need,” a deep voice, rich with profound vividness, cut the older man in between.
“Give me the keys,” he ordered, making eye contact with his subordinate who felt a shiver run up his spine as he dared to look into the pair of coinlike silver eyes-cold and lifeless with storms brewing within their depths. He positioned his uniform cap on his head to hide his scared eyes and searched his pockets before fishing out a key and handed it to the outstretched hand before him. With his back to the driver, the young master strutted lazily towards a midnight blue Buggadi storm model 101. Sleek and stylish with extravagant elegance exuding from the high-class vehicle, it was a ride fit for a king.
“B...but...si...sire?” The driver stumbled over his words, feeling too scared to question the ebony-haired man who held this power to control the atmosphere and weigh the air around him with dominance without even lifting his head. The lad stopped but did not turn around.
With a dark smile that hid mysteriously sinister intentions, something which the driver and some more men standing behind him couldn’t see, he said,” Take all the other luggage and head back to the palace with the bodyguards. I do not need them. Tell Grandfather I will be back in a few days, so he does not need to send anyone after me.” And just like that, he got in the car and drove away, leaving about twenty full-grown men shaking in their shoes.
“He left without saying where he’s going?” The aged grandfather asked folding his hands together on the desk.
“I see. He will return when he wants to, leave him be. You may leave.”
The servant bowed and left, a lot calmer than before.