17. Born to be Hunted

 

I don’t know what I’m doing and I hate this way of living. I’m literally free-styling my life here. The original plan was to guide Quent into the role of King for at least half a decade. Then my brother and I would be rewarded to rule the Remelan City together, which actually seems like work. Instead am now head chef for the Royal King of Larferna, with a salary of half a million. It’s not like I control the whole kitchen of the Royal Palace, just only my kitchen. As I only cook for the King, and the other chefs cooks for the rest of the nobles who lives within the Palace. So my jobs pretty powerful, as I have an influence on what the King eats. It is inevitable that I will be offered to poison the King at some point. Quent knows he could trust me enough for me to report this, which allows him to localise his enemies. So maybe Quent didn’t make me his personal chef for the sake of cooking his meals, but to help him flush out potential enemies instead? Or maybe I’m just trying to make this job seem a little bit more meaningful than it actually is. At least Kerra Marcie moved in with me, keeping me company and therefore making me feel a tad more special than I actually am. She left her restaurant to be run by her two younger sisters, Rosita and Atalie Marcie. Quent’s been King for nearly a week now, and he’s already removed an old law and created a new one in return. First, he deleted the law that bans cannabis from the public market, this naturally created tax laws on the newly legalised plant. Youngsters loved him for it and the oldies hated him, but he knows the old will die out within a few decades, therefore their useless complaints will stop then. He also released a new law for tissues to be made with artificial paper, an invention by Ceoda Moore, in replacement for the trees we used. This was a Planet destroying job, but the world wasn’t going to stop wiping their asses for the sake of a life extension to their Planet. A selfless society is a projection of heaven, and we all know heaven doesn’t exist on Earth. This law had Remi’s people acquiesced and finally swayed by logic to accept this advantage. It will also make Ceoda a lot more richer, and no doubt Quent’s been offered a percentage of the earnings. Ceoda is the peak of success, Quent is the living progression of success, and I only hold the idea of success. I don’t want to be idealising anymore, I want to start plotting for it. 

“Why wear the jealous expression, Olyn?” asked Kerra, laying tired beside me.

“We just had sex, jealously never even existed in my thoughts until you just mentioned it,” I replied and turned to face her. “How come you just lay there with my sperm still in you, isn’t it disgusting?” I asked.

“Even though your c***s not in me anymore, I still want a part of you in me for a while longer.” 

“Thank you,” I subtly said. She looked up at the artwork I painted on my ceiling, which is a birds-eye view of our Galaxy and the Planets that surrounds the Sun.

“I love your new artwork.”

“Thank you,” I exaggerated. 

“Wow, that’s a bit more energetic than the last thank you I got.” 

“Is that favouritism your suggesting?”

“Why seem happier with your artwork compliment than that of my acceptance of your cum. Shouldn’t I come first?” She accuses me of jealous thoughts, and now she’s taking a taste for herself it seems. 

“If I was to say, ‘thank you’ in the same tone, wouldn’t you think am just saying it only for the sake of being nice? And by hyping up my second ‘thank you’ makes everything sound more authentic?”

“Yes, but it kinda made me jealous.” At least she admits to jealously, another reason why she’s braver than me.

“If only your compliments were given in a different order.”

“So you’re saying, I’m at fault?” 

“This whole discussions at fault.”

“More like an argument, no?” she lashed out. I can’t tell if she’s aggressively flirting or just plain mad at me.

“I’m taking a shower before work,” I said, and left the bed we shared. Is it natural to argue at least once a day whilst in a relationship? I feel like the more she yaps, the more Kerra injures my attraction towards her. 

Today is Quent's coronation and his first public speech as King, and I am asked to attend. As well as cooking his lunch and keeping him company while he eats. Something friends usually do, but the way it's presented, sounds more like a job. He sent a couple of guards to fetch me, and what they said was what made me thought that. "Ready to cook for the King and keep his company, aye?" is the very words the guard said. It made me felt like a slave, not that I know what a slave actually goes through. So it was that, which persuaded me to quit, and maybe ask for another job. I don't care much for the salary either, I'm getting paid 500k a year but it's not like I have the free time to spend it. Plus, I'm from the Remelan family, and we're pretty much rich as f**k already. The only thing I didn't inherit was the job my father had, which was sub-ruler of the Remelan City. Something I don’t care to have, due to the heavy responsibilities of ruling a City. I’m just a stoner who happens to have a powerful last name, and the constant pressure to live up to my families reputation. Being head chef just doesn’t cut it, I didn’t even really want this job. I’m just a young adult who’s still discovering his natural talent, which I have no clue what it is, except for cooking… Thinking about cooking, I have lunch to prepare. The location of my kitchen has quite the backstory, it used to be jointed with the Palace kitchens. But the other chef’s, whom are far better cooks than me, felt anger and jealousy that their King would rather have me as his main cook. So Remipor had me moved to another room, but Deconi suggested that my kitchen should be a secret. So that assassins wouldn’t know which room to go to and poison the King’s meals. The location to my kitchen is randomised three times a day. I have a total of fifty kitchens, and I work in three different kitchens every day, one for breakfast, lunch and dinner. So there’s never really time to adjust to the rooms I work in. It’s exciting but it gets annoying and tedious, in terms of constantly moving out and in, and the only time I like to move out and in, is when I’m with Kerra. After my shower, I said my goodbyes to Kerra and called my escort guards to guide me to today’s lunch kitchen. Stutra Kent my co-worker was already there, smoking a blunt near the window, overlooking the front gardens of the Larferna Palace.  

“Hey! Stay away from the window,” shouted one of the guards that escorted me. 

“Sorry mate,” replied Stutra, instantly closing the window and chunking his blunt down the sink.

“Now we have to go to another room, f**k sakes Stu,” I said, with half my humour and half frustration. We do this because there’s a high risk that Remi’s assassins might try to stalk Stu and I. So that they could sneak into our current work station and poison the King’s meals. And Stutra just advertised his whole face to everyone that’s outside the front gardens, and smoking a blunt will undoubtedly attract many people. Causing this whole sneaking thing to be deemed useless, so we have to move rooms, yet again. 

“I’ve already got the ingredients prepared, can’t we just have a few more guards stationed outside and inside this room?” asked Stutra.

“Just this once?” I pleaded. The guards knew I was their King’s first friend, as well as my family name. So whatever answer they gave, must have been influenced by it. 

“How long were you smoking that blunt for?” one of the escort guards asked Stu.

“It was just sparked.”

“Okay, how long were you at the window?”

“Same time I sparked up the blunt.” He nodded and walked near the window with his solar phone, and took a picture of the view outside the kitchen window. The guard then started dialling on his phone, 

“G-21, I’m sending you a photo. Analyse every face and save it on todays records for possible dangerous suspects.Then send ten guards stationed outside room K-46.” So this is the 46^th kitchen and guard-21 is the surveillance room? The guard hung up then, “My colleague and I will guard the room in here.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said. Then Stu and I started cooking Quent’s lunch. 

After bustling up one hour and forty minutes in the kitchen, we finally finalised lunch. It consisted of whole carrots sliced in half and brushed with a cashew nut sauce, with purple plums squeezed into a dragon fruit, blended with chives and garlic. Sided with an avocado and lemon dressing. Spread onto a grain free loaf, sprinkled with drops of neat whiskey; brewed for over 24 years in the Royal Palace. I also made a portion for the two guards that allowed us to stay in this room, they thanked us by saying no thanks. Probably because it’s got a few droplets of alcohol, and their on duty. The two guards escorted Stutra back to his room and the other ten guards had to take me to Remi’s room, but I had to wait for the service men to arrive first because I’m not carrying the food. I’ve already done my job. When we arrived at Quent’s room, the door was already opened and his twenty guards that’s situated outside the door, started the usual inspection of the food. I didn’t desire to watch them do their food scans so I walked into Remipor’s room instead. 

“Ten grand to the winner of the next game?” I know this to be Quent’s voice.

“If I keep winning, you could risk losing another 2% of Octlyn’s yearly salary, and by discouraging your financial wagers. You might finally realise that this type of gambler’s mindset will ruse up an addiction you do not want.” I recognise this to be Ceoda’s voice. 

“It’s my money I'm gambling, not Octlyn’s salary.” 

“You’re his employer, and the money you pay him with, belongs to the Larferna Kingdom. You just have a say in where the money goes. So I suggest that you should start investing more thought in what happens to the money you lose or spend in the future.” I decided to make my cue then, but first I whispered to the guards to not bring in the meals until I say so. They listened of course, probably thinking the orders are from the King himself. 

“No need to worry about my salary anymore, as I’m wanting to quit,” I said. They both looked at me, Quent held the most surprised expression I’ve seen yet, and Ceoda just eyed at me and said.

“Most people who aren’t ambitious usually makes the best long term employees.” 

“Why do you want to quit?” said Quent.

“I’ve been working as a chef for half my life, and the only reason why I accepted this Royal chef job was because it was the only thing I knew how to do. But it keeps reminding me of the past, and I just want to progress now.”

“Move on to what?” asked Ceoda Moore, in an expression of curiosity and not cheekiness. 

“I want to become the Galactic ambassador of the Larferna Kingdom.” 

“So what you want is to become the King’s mouth?” asked Ceoda.

“I just want to represent Remi.”

“And why you?” she asked. Quent remained his usual speculation of the scene. 

“I have the last name to qualify me for it, I have the fortune to support me for over thirty lifetimes, so the motivation isn’t money. I have the desired charisma and the thick skin to hold out on a battle of wits. My inherited last name also gives me the public backing of the Remelan City. I am also one of the last surviving cousins to Larferna family.” Quent turned to me and asked.

“We’re family?”

“How are you’s related?” I doubt ceoda doesn’t not know.

“Savoc’s Remelan was Lumenarr Larferna’s mentor.”

“Lumenarr’s my dad apparently, was Savoc’s yours?”

“F**k no! He was my grandad, Savoc’s son was Garene Remelan, and he married your dad’s little sister, Dalifarr Larferna. Then they had two sons together, Jakcon their first born, and me.”

“So you're my first cousin?” asked Quent, looking surprised as f**k. I wonder if he’s more shocked that Jakcon’s his cousin or I am. 

“I have an aunt?” he asked. 

“The council didn’t tell you about Dalifarr?”

“No one told me anything about our relation, but you can, right?”

“My parents are dead, that’s all the intel I have.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been separated from them since birth. Like you with yours.”

“What’s your decision then?” she interrupted.

“Aren’t you going to advise me on this first?” asked Remi, in a smooth tone.

“You’re going to make a lot more friends in the future, and they might ask you for high standing jobs such as your main man Octlyn here. So try not to rely on me for advice every time this happens.” 

“I thought you were my mentor?” remarked Quent.

“Mainly just your ego manager,” she joked. I hid my amusement by walking to the corner bar. 

“Pour us a drink too, Octlyn,” demanded Ceoda.

“I thought you weren’t going to rely on nepotism,” reminded Quent. 

“I don’t want to, but wouldn’t it make sense for one of your family members to represent your Kingdom?”

“So you giving him the job or no?” asked Ceoda. Why is she trying to rush things? My guess is that she’s just too curious about whether Quent grants me this job or not.

“If I’m really your cousin, then that would make you my second heir. Why ask to become an ambassador when you can ask for a more suitable job, like ruling the Remelan City.”

“I’m in my twenties, I’m not gonna waste my youth telling others how to best live their lives.” Ceoda smiled at that.

“Wish I had those options,” said Quent, half smiling and continued. “Why ask to become an ambassador though?” I thought I answered this twice.

“I thought Octlyn already vaguely answered this,” said Ceoda. 

“He has, but that was before I knew he was my first cousin,” stated Quent. 

“Fair enough,” replied Ceo. They both looked at me, awaiting an answer. 

“What else do you want me to say?”

“You’ll be required to leave Earth often and represent Remipor to foreign Planets. Making you a lot more prone to being assassinated, being the King’s mouth and all,” inputted Ceoda.  

“Yeah… I don’t think you should become my ambassador, maybe something more safer?” he said. 

“If I am the second heir to the Larferna Kingdom, don’t you think I’m already prone to being targeted?” I said.

“Yes, but your more likely to survive in Larferna, guarded by men at your cousin’s command,” said Ceo, sipping the drink I had poured her earlier. Hearing someone else address Remi as my cousin sounds bizarre. 

“How about I give you a few weeks to decide what type of job suits you, write down a list?” offered Quent.

“Sure,” sounds no bad actually, I smiled my gratitude and called for the lunch to be brought in. Three males elegantly walked in with our plates, and placed it in front of each of us. 

“Thank you,” I said, and bid them to leave with a flicker of my eyes and a wave of my right hand. 

“Lunch smells amazing, Octlyn,” complimented Ceoda. 

“What is this?” said Quent.

“A meatless meal, My Ferna,” I said it without any sort of seriousness. 

“Free of peanuts, I presume?” asked Ceoda, smiling.

“Of course Ceo, you implanted your allergies within me, remember?” 

“Just testing your cautiousness,” she smirked and took half a fork sized bite out of her lunch. I got the usual expected compliments for the meal I cooked, and Quent suggested me to pass down some of my recipes to his new Royal chef. I obviously bargained it to be given to Stutra Kent, letting Remi know that he already learned most of my recipes. Quent agreed of course, no doubt Stu would be getting a taste of the hatred I had to bare from the other chef’s that works within the Palace kitchens. But his yearly salary would patch up any disdain he’ll be getting. 

Remipor’s speech will begin soon, and Quent asked me to stand next to him and Ceoda during his big talk. He’s probably asking me now because he’s just realised that I’m his first cousin and second heir. Why else would he want me by his side? I still can’t believe no one informed him that I was his cousin. I wonder what else they haven’t told him. I’m surprised that Ceoda hasn’t advised Quent to structure a new council yet. Remi sent me away to get tailored into my own Royal suit to wear for my first public appearance. The designers made me a dark grey suit, with only one shoulder pad made of wolf fur, dyed in the colours of the Remelan sigil, which is a brute brown with a few red streaks. They gave me a mini cape too, coloured the same as the Larferna tree, the capes length only reached my belt though. It was paired with black combat boots, made to outlast a thousand bullets, so says the designers. Remi was given a choice of three locations to make his speech: first was the typical dais throne room, where he would make his speech in front of the political parties, the rulers of the other twenty trees and a few Royal guards scattered about, filmed for a live TV broadcast to the whole of Earth. Second was at a balcony talking to an open mic, in front of the locals at the Palace, again this will all be filmed for a live TV broadcast. Third was an idea Ceoda had, which was to have Remi walk around his Palace making his speech, and walking past people who will automatically address him with the Larferna salute. It consist of a half bow with your right hand in your trouser pocket, and the left hand goes palm flat onto the chest, your left feet forwarded with the length distance of your natural foot size, finished with a slight bend on the right knee, with the left side of your shoulder tilted forward. The camera would be following Quent from the front to make it feel like you’re walking backwards as the King walks forward. Ceoda will be on his right side and I will be at his left, following him like starved puppies. The dodgy thing is that Quent hasn’t even rehearsed his speech, this used to be a guy who frowns at the very opportunity of talking. Now he’s not even nervous at the very idea of presenting to the whole world. No way being crowned King can instantly make any shy man that confident. 

I’m to meet Quent at his room, as that is where the speech will start. He wore the same style of outfit as me, but more upgraded. The only differences was that he had two shoulder pads, one is of lion fur and the other is snake skin dyed dark brown. His suit was the colour of pitch black cherry, and he had on a larger collar than me, large enough to call it a turtleneck with buttons. He had a cape too, same colour as mines but longer in length by three inches. The colour of his shirt was granite and mines was black moon. Both our hair was slicked back, Ceoda wore her hair down for the first time I’ve seen her. She was wearing her ballroom outfit, which was a dress in the colour of a dark red mixed with a strong lava texture, paired with black and brown high heals. The only thing supporting her dress was a shoulder pad made of the same fabric as the dress, but with added padding of flexible carbon fibre, coloured space grey. When I walked into Quent’s room, there was guards filling each side of the walls. Each second guard in the line formation was holding a long spear whilst the others was armed with solar guns. The ones with guns had capes, probably of a bullet proof material. As well as an indication of a higher rank, the capes colour varies on the rank, the darker your cape is, the higher rank you are. Generals usually wear colours close to the Larferna tree. The first time I saw a colour worn like that was on Renum’s cloak, who was the head spokesman of the Royal council. I walked to approach Quent. 

“Any instructions in what my role is?” I asked. 

“Probably best asking either Ceoda or the camera director,” responded Remi. Or maybe you just don’t want to say to your friend/cousin to just basically follow you around. I looked around to see where Ceo is, and spotted her talking to the director. 

“One of you’s going to give me some direction in my role?” I asked.

“Same as before, follow Remi on his left when he walks, and stop when he stops,” said Ceoda. At least she’s honest about my role in all this, can’t say the same for Remi though.

“I meant what should I do with my face, should I smile often or just remain plain faced?” 

“This is a chance for you to represent yourself to the world you live in, so its up to you on how you want the population to perceive you,” replied the director. 

“What if Remi ends up choking on his words, due to a possible nervous break down?” 

“Then f**k it, audiences these days love authenticity and a sense of realness. Who cares if their King doesn’t have the confidents to make speeches, so long as his rule profits the nation, right?” 

“Sure, Mr Director,” I responded without looking at him and walked towards Quent.

“You know what you’re going to say?” I asked. 

“This whole things just a simple introduction of myself, lasting about less than five minutes, so it’s not like I’m reciting something I don’t know,” replied Quent.

“What? Like, hi my names Remipor Larferna and I’m your current King?” I said. 

“Something a little bit longer, but you get the idea.” 

“Aren’t you nervous at all man?”

“I’m less so for some reason.”

“For some reason? Have you managed to figure out why?”

He just shrugged.

“You sure Annel your new manager hasn’t got anything to do with it?” I asked. 

“She hasn’t said a word about my speech yet, and that could be the reason why I’m so chill about it, because nobody mentions and talks about something that isn’t important, right?” 

“So I’m the only one who’s asked you if you’re okay?” I said.

“You are.”

“And by doing so, I’ve just reminded you of the nervousness you’ve once indulged in,” I dreaded out. 

“Just shows that you care though.” 

“Or maybe I was just curious?”

“Could be,” he managed a quarter smile and Annel casually blended into our space.

“Here, I bought you two some Yerba matte tea, helps with brain activity.” She handed us a cup each. It was shaped like a fat pear, with a straw poking out the top hole. 

“Sip up as much as you can,” she instructed. We said our thank’s and sipped until the director shouted everyone to gather in place for the live broadcast. It made sense for Remi to ignore him though, as a King doesn’t take orders, especially from mere directors. I could tell Quent hated this sort of exclusion of other people, but for a King to take instructions from a TV director would cause Remi a lot of damage. As it could showcase him to be easily swayed, and an easily moved King, is an unstable King. So says the public of Larferna and the rest of Earth. This director was hired by Ceoda from her own Planet, so eccentrics and an ignorance of Earth’s customs seems to be the norm. Remipor went to the bathroom while I thought of all this, and he was back by the time I was done thinking of it. 

“Are you ready?” said the Director.

“Aye,” he said. I quickly rallied myself on Quent’s left side, Ceoda was already on his right and Annel was stationed beside the director. Then he nodded towards the King to alert him that he’s live on TV. Remi took his first steps as King in front of the whole world. 

“Falenarr was the surname my council gave me when they sent me into training.” He’s leaving out the truth and replacing it with only one word, such as ‘training’ to describe his youth with Jakcon? I glanced about the floor to see if there was any obstacles like pens and such, incase I trip and fall on live TV. But the floor was clean, so it must be my nervousness triggering an imaginational mindset called paranoia. 

“My status and identity wasn’t meant for revealing until at least my twenty-fifth year as an Earthling, and I’m twenty-one. But I was nearly killed during an attempted assassination while I was still ignorant of my true heritage. It was Ceoda Moore, the women on my right that saved the Larferna family from extinction. I had lost a leg during our get away plan from the assassins at Mount Nuru.” 

He looked towards me and continued.

“Logically that causes oneself to lose a lot of blood, and I lost too much to be considered for a revival operation. Luckily, Ceoda had invented Exporta before my incident.”  

Ceo managed a smile in response, so I quickly did the same. If I had frowned or did anything else, no doubt the masses will find something bad to say about me come morning. We’ve walked into the Palace throne room now, and I’ve already counted over thirty salutes. Remipor looked at his throne then.

“And instead of going back to my anonymous training regime, I was forced to acknowledge that I was a King. Discovering that my real name is Remipor Larferna, Ruler of the Larferna Lands and the leader of the Veinte Kings.” I should note that veinte translates to twenty. Each of the Twenty Kings is from a different country, and it is tradition to change the numeric title according to the language of each King. It gets changed every month, and todays February so on March the title gets changed to Vingt, in honour of the French King. 

“But I purposely delayed my coronation, due to the fact that I wanted to prove that I could rule and profit the realm in a short amount of time. And I did, thanks to the council of my new Mentor.” 

He hand gestured to Ceoda Moore.

“I allowed our TV entertainment system to be merged with the rest of the Galaxy, which gained our government over 300 Billion worth of revenue in mere weeks. Which I have been spending it on improvements that will enhance our Planet to not only be the richest, but the most reliable, so that the next generation of children don’t need to worry about a lack of education or the unavoidable hospital bills.” 

Quent slowly walked up the stairs leading to his throne. The design of each step is placed with a throne belonging to a past King, and it is situated on each end of the step. The length between each steps are about half the size of a normal bed. I was too busy keeping count of the salutes to bother with another counting spree of the amount of thrones in the room.

“So after completing the challenge that I have set, I decided, and was advised by many to finally allow myself to be crowned.” 

Quent finally approached his throne, getting ready to sit on it. He signalled the Royal crown bearers to come forward, the man and women walked out from each side of Remipor’s throne. The women on his right and the man of his left. Ceoda and I was kneeling in front of him while the crown bearers slowly landed the Helmet of Burdens onto his head. Claps and cheers came instantly as he sat down on a chair that will one day be a part of a step. It was wise for Quent to end his speech so short, as it is public understanding that the less you say, can cause more people to remember what you’ve said. 

“Cut,” shouted the director. I stood up to see that Ceoda was still kneeling. I quickly realised that I’ve to wait for Remi’s consent first. This is something nearly every Earthling knows, but it’s quite easy to bypass when you don’t do it often. 

“I guess you’ve found out then,” said Quent.

“Guess what?” I asked, still standing.

“Well, you’re standing up for a reason, and that reason seems to be projecting sullenness towards my prank.”

“What prank?”

“We weren’t live, Octlyn,” he smirked out. I glanced behind me, all eyes fixed onto the target of the prank: me. 

“That was a rehearsal/prank?”

“You guessed right.”

“No wonder why the director was acting all care free.” I was very surprised, not at the prank  itself but how Quent managed to maintain my ignorance of it.

“So was that speech scripted?” 

“One of many actually, the plan is to film a few more rehearsals with different scripts and then upload the best one. It’s too risky to make my first speech live, incase I f**k up. So we’re going to lie and state that the video we’re uploading is live,” informed Remi.

“Make senses.” 

“How did you know it was a prank?” said Quent.

“I didn’t, I stood up because I forgot I had to wait for a consent to stand up.”

“Wow… I could have dragged out the prank then.”

“So what was the next step in your staged joke?” I asked.

“I was going to have a bunch of people write bad reviews about you and I, and then reveal that it’s a joke.”

“Sounds cynical but I like it.” 

“Not cynical, more like a waste of time. Although pranks often produces laughter, and that can lead to a stress release. Something a leader needs in his daily life, so I’ll withhold my judgement for now,” said Ceoda, while waiting to stand up. Remi forgot that everyone in the room was still kneeling. Remipor quickly raised his right hand with his thumb folded inwards to his palm, and a half millimetre in distance between his fingers, and everyone stood up. 

“We’ll take a ten minute break,” Remi directed the message to the male crown bearer, and he passed it onto a guard, and then the guard announced it loudly for the whole room to hear.

“The King orders a ten minute break,” he shouted. I looked to see that it was Deconi shouting. I guess it makes sense for the head of the Royal guard to inform his Kings orders. Plus, he has one of those dominant voices that doesn’t really pose any threat. Ceoda calls it a court’s voice. 

“I’m going to get some more of that tea Annel gave us,” I told Quent. 

“Get some for me too,” asked Quent, I looked over to Ceo.

“Yeah sure, I’ll have some as well,” she said. I nodded with a smile and went to find Annel. She should be close by, considering she’s the head assistant for Ceoda Moore and manager to the King. I asked around the room and decided to seek out other people that isn’t in the throne room. When I walked out, I instantly heard a banging sound from around the corner. I was attracted by the destructive noises and walked towards it. I see two men, the tall one is holding up one of Remi’s guards against the wall and the other is smirking behind him. The uniforms they're wearing is the same as any other Larferna guardsmen. So am I witnessing some sort of bullying amongst the Royal guards?

“Faavel, may I have permission to kill him?” the tall one asked.

“You may, Ser,” replied the one standing behind him, he said it in a melodic tone.

“I asked Faavel because he’s my kill count manager, meaning he doesn’t allow me to kill over ten people a week. Because the last thing I want, is to end up in a killing frenzy. And when I do, I always end up killing someone important, which usually leads to a mini war. And that’s not good for my war chest.” He quickly stabbed the guard in the forehead, and slowly and roughly dragged the knife down to his chin, revealing a half torn face. Saliva was drooling out of my mouth, caused by the sheer shock of this unpredictability. Once my spit landed on the floor, I looked down at it. When I looked back up, there was a thin chopstick sized knife making its way towards me, and finally landed inside my belly. I found that my eyelids started to cloud my field of view, due to them closing, and what made them close was probably the wee knife in my stomach? 

I knew I’ll open my eyes again, but when I raised my eyelids I noticed that I wasn’t in the Palace anymore. My left leg was locked onto a chain tied to the wall of a prison cell. The room has a different colour on each wall, and it changes simultaneously. Every wall changed to dark green as soon as I woke up. The tall guy that stabbed the guards face was opening the door. I could see him unlocking it because the door keeping me inside this cell is made of glass, or some sort of see-through material. He was casually smiling a smile that most pedestrians use when greeting strangers. The tall kunt started walking towards me, and quickly gained hold of my neck. I couldn’t breath and I knew this f****r wouldn’t kill me on the spot. He gradually softened his hands for me to breath.

“F**k! Your breath is the opposite of minty,” he suddenly said, backing off a few yards while maintaining eye contact. I was intimidated, I felt weak and I had just woken up, plus I needed to pee. 

“Well, if you didn’t lock me up without a toothbrush, then maybe I wouldn't disgust you so much,” I shouted back. 

“I’m going to replace your stinking breath with something else.”

“What? Some toothpaste?”

“No,” he giggled. “Something more natural, your breath is going to smell a lot like my semen, real soon.” This is a man who’s capable of ripping a guards face in half. If he’s suggesting that I’m going to be sucking his dick, then I believe him. If it comes to it, I’m f*****g biting it off.

“But first, I have to insure you don’t bite off my precious baby maker, and to do that, I shall temporary take out all your teeth.” This has to be another one of Remi's pranks.

“All this for a mere blowjob?” I said it with a humorous tone, but that was just me attempting to hide my fear of him.

“If I’m willing to waste this much time to get my dick sucked. Then how much time do you think I’ve spent plotting on how to F**k your King?”

“You’re metaphorically speaking, right?” 

“Of course! I’m too OCD to stick my c**k in a man’s a*s, condom or no.”

“So that blowjob was a metaphor also?” I asked, hoping he’ll say yes. 

“ And what metaphor do you think that is?”

“You said you wanted to f**k my King, in terms of robbing him his Kingdom, right?”

“Yes, and what of the blowjob?” he asked, standing sternly. 

“That was a metaphor for me to keep my month shut, or let it be shut, by you.”

He managed a horrific laugh that I think only his drinking companions would like, and enemies such as myself would hate.

“Quite the opposite, Octlyn, I want you to submit the information you know of Remipor Larferna and Ceoda Moore. Kinda like how someone submits their month when they’re giving out blowjobs.” 

“Most Street thugs would have just asked for the intel straight up, while holding a rock hammer and a few nails.” 

“I’m classier than that, and hornier.” He grinned at me, eyeing my mouth.

“Then why is the interior so bland in here? Shouldn’t I be seeing a more classier prison cell?” I waved at the green walls that surrounds us. 

“I thought you would like it, considering your from the greenest Planet this Galaxies ever seen.”

“A kidnapper and a comedian, you need to show me your résumé some time.”

“Is that you trying to offer me a job from the King himself?”

“I could make that happen if you want.” I hope to f**k he’s wanting an employ.

“This form of bribery was unexpected. What’s the job description then?”

“I’ll let my King tell you himself, since he’s the one that’s going to employ you.” He stood there waiting, probably wanting a longer reply.

“Do you know that some companies give out pensions and health care to their employees?” I asked. 

“Every company does that.”

“Well, Remipor gives out something that makes pensions completely unnecessary.”

“Immortality I'm guessing?” 

“Unlimited Exporta’s for you and your family,”  

“I still get the pension though, right? Because I’m not working for the rest of my life.”

“The salary you could be earning would make the concept of a pension completely useless.” Naturally anyone would grin at this point, and he was indeed grinning. 

“All that metaphor crap wasn’t true. I just played along because I knew I would enjoy witnessing you trying to talk your way out of a blowjob. Gents!” Five half naked men walked in with helmets covering their whole head, designed to look like Planets. 

“Tell me every useful thing about Remipor and Ceoda, or we’ll take out your teeth, and all six of us will mouth rape you everyday until you do.” The face ripper started approaching me, and I instinctually backed away.

“F**k sakes, Octlyn! Stop walking away every time I near you, it’s making me insecure.” 

“Aaarrrrggggghhhhhh!” screamed the man with the brown Planet helmet. He punched me on my right jaw, knocking away several of my beautiful white teeth. 

“Stop making Sergusto insecure,” he shouted. Watching my teeth bouncing off the wall notified me that this isn't a prank. I started thinking to myself, what type of information could I share with them? I know nothing of use! Why would they even bother kidnaping me? Yes, I am the second heir to a Kingdom that almost every Galaxin desires. But at the end of each day, “I’m just a stoner with a powerful last name!”