Prologue: The King of the Castle

The castle was almost as ancient as the land it was in, and according to some, it was even older than the actual land, transported there from someplace else. They also claim that is why the castle, larger than any royal abode known to those humans fortunate enough to still be on earth, holds so many secrets. If the people in this world had the ability to still believe in anything, they would believe that that castle contained magical powers stronger than anything they could possibly imagine.

It was a dark morning when, somewhere in that castle, the doors to a bedchamber were thrown open so the king, hardly a man at only seventeen, could storm into the room with his servants scampering after him. The two incredibly young servants were all too eager to take his shoes and begin to shine them in the deepest, darkest corner of the room, far away from the king where he sat at his desk. The boy was not doing anything, simply staring at a paper lying in the center of the ornate desk right in front of him. The servants, having seen their poor, beloved king reread this letter millions of times over these past many months without uttering a word, now decided it would be somewhat acceptable for them to ask the question everyone was dying to know the answer to.

“Lord Kian,” the older of the two servants said timidly, in such a quiet voice it shocked both of the servants when the king turned around to look at them with a look that showed he had been expecting this. The servant was so incredibly shocked by his expression that he was unable to continue with his question, his words stuck in his throat.

“Well?” Kian implored, turning his attention to the other servant, who remained just as mute as the first. “You two do realize I am human and have the ability to communicate, right? That I do not have any boundaries within my soul that forbid me from speaking to those whom others consider inferior?”

“Y-yes, sir,” the two servants muttered in unison.

“Whatever they taught you in training, forget it. I hate silence. My last servant was fantastic; he never shut up and was always joking. He became a very good friend of mine.” A small smile appeared, and it was the first smile either of the servants had ever seen on the king’s young face. The smile made his face seem brighter, his eyes more lively.

“What happened to him, Lord Kian?” the first servant asked after staring at the almost sacred smile for a few moments.

“What happens to everyone, eventually?” the king asked bitterly, the faintest hint of longing in his voice that caused a short, uncomfortable silence to follow his question. “In answer to your unanswered question from before, no, I have not heard from Adelaide, and I do not think I shall be hearing from her anytime soon.”

“Sir-”

“And I have no idea where she went, either.”

“We miss her,” the second servant remarked, not bothering to keep her voice low and quiet because it was a statement that reflected the feelings of the entire castle and Village.

“Yes, I know.”

“Do you?” the first servant asked, instantly whipping the rag they were using to buff the boots over their mouth, feeling as though they had crossed a boundary.

“Queen Adelaide was a rare kind of person…one does not meet a girl quite like her very often.”

“Have you any idea where she may have gone?” The servants were both much encouraged by the warmth and openness with which Kian was speaking to them; however, they could still find hints of bitterness and distance in his words.

“No.”

The king’s conversation with his servants, one he had been expecting to happen quite in the manner it had for some time now, was cut short when the Noble Megedagik entered the room. He smiled broadly at the two servants, who both smiled back with an equal amount of warmth, having had many pleasant conversations with the highest-ranking Noble in the castle. Megedagik approached Kian quickly, his slender but strong hands folded tightly behind his back in his typical stance he had when he was about to discuss important matters.

“We have just sent out another hunt,” Megedagik informed Kian after brief greetings on both sides. “We haven’t found him yet.”

“Yes, well, I don’t expect you to,” Kian said dryly, showing no surprise at the news. “This will be the last hunt.”

“It cannot be, Kian. We must find-”

“Dag, I know this is very important to you, but we need to focus on other things. The hunts occupy too much of your time to let any of us rest at ease. It is your duty as the highest-ranking Noble to be a role model to others, is it not? Exemplify some self-control, then, and put your whims on hold for just a few months.”

“Why? So we can continue with our search parties for Adelaide? You know those are as hopeless as the hunts, if not more so.”

“Then we both are in agreement that the hunts are pointless and should not be continued.”

Megedagik tried not to let a small smirk slip through, but he could not help it, hearing the small bit of dry humor in Kian’s words that were often there. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“No, really, I think you get paid too much.”

“Hardy-har-har. You think just because you’ve been around for a few hundred years more, you’re so much smarter and so much funnier. Har. Har. Har.”

“Your sincerity of words brings a tear to my eye, Dag.”

Megedagik turned, starting toward the door quickly. “Jeez, and they say Earth is overrun with sarcasm. Good-bye, Kian. I really hope these two strangle you behind these closed doors.”

Kian laughed quietly, turning to look back at the servants. “You wouldn’t strangle me, would you?”

“No, no, no, sir.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Never in a million years.”

“Of course not. Who would even think…”

Kian held up a hand to let them know to stop. “I was only kidding, I know you would not. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to take me on in the first place.”

The two servants exchanged a glance once more before both of them turned to Kian with looks of severe curiosity. “She will never return, will she, Lord Kian?”

The king looked up at them, trying to appear as if the question surprised him and he did not know whom they were talking about, but he certainly knew. After a few moments, he finally decided to give up the falseness and respond. “No,” he said in a voice much softer than they had ever heard him use. “Adelaide will never return, and her name has come to mean more than I ever thought it would for me: hope.”

“Hope she will return, sir?”

“Hope she will not.”