Ripples in Royalty

Chapter One

The citizens gathered in the square,  papers clutched in their sweating hands. Numbers were hollered by guards.

After each number, a person stepped forward and handed over their papers.

A teenager hid in an alleyway, his sparkling blue eyes scanning over the the people as he nibbled on a loaf of bread.

"841127," A guard in a read cloak yelled.

A trembling woman stepped forward and was shoved forward into the castle walls.

There were about two hundred people in the square, fifty of which would be called into the  castle. twenty five of which would die in the next month, those who survived the first month would wish they had been the one's to die as they would suffer the same torments for months longer.

"136947," another guard yelled.

Tears fell from the eyes of a boy as a small girl timidly stepped forward.

The teen scribbled her number onto a piece of paper.

"I would be very careful doing that if I were you," An older boy, about the age of seventeen said in a heavy east providence accent. "Back were I am from, someone would gladly turn you in for that."

The teen could not understand what they boy was saying though his accent and just nodded along, smiling.

The older boy quickly swiped the teen's bread.

"Please give it back," The teen said.

"Why would I do that?" The boy said. "I can spot an expensive meal when I see one, surely you of all people can buy another."

"618664," A guard called.

The boy dropped the bread to the ground and walked towards the guard. "Right here asshole," He said, "Or am I supposed to call you Sir? Or would you rather be called General? Are you even a general? Whatever. I will just call you General Asshole, how about that?"

The teen grabbed the bread and tried to dust the dirt off, but there were parts of the crust that the dirt stuck to and he had to peel them off.

He continued to listen as the next person walked forward.

It was a teenage boy, about his age, who walked up completely emotionless.

He cocked his head to the side at the strange sight. He had never seen anyone walk up to, what the people called, the Gates of Hell, without some sort of emotion. What made him different? He was only fifteen, the same age as himself. He knew he would have quivered if he was called to the gate.

"Hello," A small voice squeaked, knowing the teen's attention away.

"Hollow Morn," The teen replied,  brushing a lock of brown hair out of his eyes.

"May I," The girl said, pointing to the crust on the ground. "I-"

The boy handed her what was left of his bread. "here," he said, standing up and brushing the dirt off his pants. "I have to head home now anyway, you can take it."

The girl grinned, almost madly, as she took the bread.

As the teen left, he saw her pocket the bread and begin picking up the bits of soiled crust.

His smile fell into a frown.

Why Cygnus? Why did you let it get this far?  He thought as he walked towards the looming castle.

♠♠♠

Screams engulfed the young prince as he walked down the tunnels, buts of bread and cheese stashed away in his messenger bag.

Skeleton like hands of people beyond saving reached out to pull him into their dark cells to join their torment.

Sunken in faces pressed against bars, their eyes black with hatred towards the Monarch and all who associated with her.

He quickly shoved pieces of bread into their outstretched hands and moves swiftly on.

The further in he went the louder and more desperate the screams became. The tragic chapter in their lives had barely begun.

They rattled the bars of their cages, they shook their heavy rusted chains. They begged to be let out, some promised money they did not have. Some had already given up, finding ways to kill themselves, even in their empty cells.

The young prince threw cheese into the cells of the recent convicts, trying not to make eye contact with them. If he did, it would be too hard to leave them in this wretched place.

"You are not supposed to do that," Someone said from the back of their cell.

The prince paused, looking into the cell. "I thought you might like something to eat."

"The monarch demands that we only eat once every three to four days, and not at all the first week," The voice said, emerging from the shadows.

It was the black haired boy that had resigned himself to his fate before he ever entered the gates. The one who had not cried, or screamed, or begged, in the square that morning.

"I saw you this morning," The prince said. "You did not seem upset."

The boy picked up the cheese. "Were you upset?"

"Not in the same way I expected you to," he said. "I was not selected for Crux."

"You will be, next time, if the monarch finds out about your little stunt."

"She will not," The prince promised. "I know better than anyone that she will not."

"It is only a matter of time."

"I disa-" The prince became quiet, then fled as heavy, fast footsteps were heard in the tunnels.

The boy stashed his cheese away.

A slender man, dressed as a royal advisor, ran past the cell frantically.

"Prince Aldric!" He yelled.

The boy in the cell smiled, it was the lone smile in the whole of the castle, excluding the skinning smile that the Monarch wore.