I Don't Want To Be Loved

Chapter 25: The Boy and the Sun

Ladles and plates flew overhead and soon, the inn became rambunctious. Meanwhile, the boy and the man sat in the corner and ate their fill silently.

“You best keep a good watch on your groin ‘lest you find yourself without balls!” said the angered woman.

“Aye, curse you, woman!” one man cursed and covered his lower area immediately.

“The young lady just so happens to be leavin’ the estate an’ soon to board the ship to Crichton soon,” the woman said. “What say you come with me? We’ll tell the young lady herself how you spit on her mother’s grave!”

“I spit on yer’ mother’s grave!” the man retorted.

The boy froze, the fork falling from his grip. He jumped to his feet and approached the rowdy table.

“What did you say? The young lady, she’s leaving Arundell?” the boy said anxiously.

The man and woman looked somewhat puzzled at the boy’s sudden appearance, but still, they told him what they knew.

“Kid, ah’ heard it from a relative that worked in the mansion,” the man said.

“The young lady sold some properties an’ land then booked ah’ ticket from Salerno Port to Crichton. They left this afternoon…” the woman added.

But before they could finish, the boy dashed out of the inn. The man, the boy’s servant, choked on his meal for he was left without a choice but to follow the boy’s lead.

“Your Majesty, wh… where are we going?”

No matter how many times he asked, the boy gave him no answer. The oddity of the boy’s change confused him too. He was stubborn, true, and he had a bit of a nasty temper, but he’d never treat his subordinates coldly until now…

The man was truly at his wits end.

And by the time they arrived at the port, the ship had long left the dock. The boy leaped off his horse and protested the sailors bring the ship back to dock. Of course the sailors would not listen to a child throwing fits and tantrums.

And who’d follow orders from a boy?

The boy grew sour and irritated; he did not hesitate to threaten them unless they complied with his orders.

But a boy was a boy and his young age could only get him so far.

The rough sailors were infuriated and the man needed to interject in between to protect the young king.

And those previous actions led up to where they were now — him and the boy alone in the port.

The man sighed and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. He and the boy, no, the young king left the palace without a word of warning. He’s sure the royal palace had been torn upside down. The young king suddenly disappeared and it’d be no exaggeration for the Queen to immediately mobilize a troop believing her son was kidnapped.

But as the man was reminded of her tiger-like ways, his face turned red immediately.

He’s sure the Queen would would slice off his head with a single blow. No, actually, that’d be an honorable death. Being chopped to pieces and then fed to the pigs would be a shameful death.

“Your Majesty, we should contact the royal palace, or leave head bound to the capital city immediately. And… and when you meet the Queen, you must speak highly of me, otherwise, I’ll die!”

Despite the man’s earnest request, he was ignored. The boy stared at the sea in silence.

‘Your… Your Majesty, are you listening to me? Why do you treat me like a rock rolling along the streets? Oh… I’m a dead man. The Queen’ll have my head…’ the man thought aggrievedly and wept in sorrow.

“Basil,” the boy said.

The man, Basil, quickly looked up with a joyful heart. The young king’s finally come to his senses.

“Yes! Your Majesty, we’re going back to the palace?” Basil smiled broadly; his smile reached his ears.

“Are you out of your mind?” Igor clicked his tongue. “Why don’t you go back alone instead.”

“But… Your Majesty…”

Basil was stabbed in the heart, his suggestion ignored downright. However, he could not ignore the young king’s order. He was ordered to leave. Basil turned around and walked away from Igor.

With Basil driven out, Igor stared at the ship that looked like a dot on the horizon. The dark blue waves rolled and wiped out the only physical evidence of the ship. Igor saw nothing but an endless blue sea and white sky.

Igor pressed his lips gently and sighed.

“Haaah…” As he breathed out in lamency, several birds flew overhead, and before he knew it, orange gold stretched far and wide across the skies.

Igor watched the sea, lost in the rhythmic percussion of waves rolling in the port. His eyes were steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckoned the stars.

As darkness gradually subsided, a mournful sound rang in the air. It was the song of a woman missing her lover who had left for the sea.

Igor reached towards the sky, looking at the thick clouds and birds freely wandering through the skies. The birds flew through the ever developing canvas of dawn, as if their wings were fine quills drawing such buoyant hues. The wings in the sky became the colors of dreams.

Igor looked at his hand –– in his hand was a shiny golden feather.

When he awoke from a deep sleep a few days ago, the thoughts and feelings of finding the feather rammed through his head incessantly.

His thumb smoothed the tips of the feather that was the color of red as his purple eyes glistened while the dying sun shone. And then, his face was soon sealed with a newfound determination.

The young king turned around and shouted loudly, “Basil, let’s go back to the palace!”