Not many people in this world are blessed with a family. The wilderness is a dangerous place. Beasts and monsters roam the land, and those who dare to venture into it risk their lives. It was normal to say your goodbyes before heading out for a journey, and often those goodbyes, unfortunately, did turn out to be final. It was a common sight to find orphans sleeping around in the streets at night. Therefore, having a last name meant a connection to your family, a family that might not be there anymore. It was a privilege of a few, and when a person introduced themselves with a last name, it usually meant you were speaking with nobility.
It is for this simple misunderstanding that Thorn Hangfruit was able to meet the King of one of the biggest and most prosperous countries in the world.
Thorn was a charming young man. At 25 years old and standing tall at 6 feet, his most striking feature was his hair, as white as freshly fallen snow, which contrasted sharply against his olive skin. The silvery locks fell in untamed waves, giving him an almost otherworldly appearance. Thorn''s sharp, piercing eyes, the color of warm amber, were framed by dark lashes that lent him an air of intelligence and cleverness.
He had a captivating smile that he used unknowingly to navigate social situations.
Thorn''s choice of clothes reflected his personality. He picked budget-friendly fabrics in eye-catching shades, making him look like a noble without breaking the budget. His dark blue trousers were sturdy and reliable for adventures. On top, he wore a long, puffy yellow shirt that added a touch of theatrical flair to his appearance. Over the shirt, Thorn donned a waistcoat in a fiery shade of orange, giving a pop of color to his overall attire. A simple woven belt in cool blue hues pulled everything together. His shoes were a mix of leather soles and cotton tops with laces going halfway up his legs. His left arm was adorned with a small, inconspicuous bracelet that concealed a hidden secret – a small knife, for moments when his defense might be called upon. He didn’t look it, but his “noblish” garb concealed a surprisingly rugged body, capable of enduring the rigors of dangerous battles on the road.
He was walking along the streets of Balaeren, the capital of the Kingdom of Partisita, having just arrived in the Kingdom this morning. Partisita was a coastal country, often called the bewitching face of the rancid empire. It was a marvel of architectural splendor that seamlessly blended various cultural influences. As Thorn stepped into the bustling city, he was greeted by a mosaic of colors, sounds, and scents that enlivened his senses.
The city''s streets were wide and well-maintained. Buildings of grand design and intricate details adorned almost every corner.
Belarean''s diversity was striking, as beings of all races moved about the city freely, creating a vibrant tapestry of cultures and traditions. Elven merchants chatted with human artisans, dwarven craftsmen roamed about with beastkin labor, and rugged fishmen sold their wares along the piers. Trade was the lifeblood of Belaeren, and marketplaces were scattered throughout the city, featuring goods from all corners of the empire and beyond. Thorn could feel the energy of commerce in the air, with merchants haggling over prices, exotic spices scenting the breeze, and the clinking of coins exchanging hands.
Despite the lively atmosphere, security was a top priority in Belaeren. Guards clad in armor patrolled the streets diligently, ensuring the safety of its citizens and visitors. The watchtowers that dotted the city''s walls served as a constant reminder of the watchful eyes that protected the realm.
However, what stood out most for Thorn was the care and attention given to those less fortunate. Orphanages, with their arched entrances and beautifully adorned windows, provided a safe haven for children who had lost their families. Facilities with gentle slopes and wide doorways accommodated individuals with mobility challenges, allowing them to move freely and independently. Thorn noticed a group of young children with varying abilities joyfully playing in a beautifully landscaped park. He couldn''t help but feel that he had truly entered a city of wonder and compassion, a sentiment much lacking in the world.
At the heart of Belaeren stood the magnificent palace. Its walls were fortified with imposing stone and iron craftsmanship, instilling a sense of security, while decorative carvings and arabesque patterns adorned its surface, adding an air of refinement.
In front of the palace sprawled a grand open square, where important events and celebrations probably took place. The square''s vastness gave it an aura of grandeur, and its current emptiness, a sense of melancholy as if it requires jubilance to flourish.
As Thorn walked towards the Palace, he noticed the iron-crafted front gates that were reinforced with ornate patterns that added a touch of elegance to their stern appearance. In front of them, stood two guards each holding a Halbert crossing the others in an almost cliched ''x'' shape. The first guard was a well-built figure, standing tall and proud. The other guard, on the heavier side, stood with an air of authority. Thorn immediately decided to call them the well-built guard and the fat guard.
The guards observed Thorn as he approached, their expressions serious and vigilant. Thorn adjusted his clothes with a touch of nervousness. As he neared the guards, the well-built guard spoke with a booming voice,
"Halt! Who ventures in the court of His Highness, the King of Partisita?"
Thorn''s heart skipped a beat- "Hi- His Highness? I mean, it is I, Thorn Hangfruit!"The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
He silently thanked the providence that the well-built guard turned around to face the fat guard rather than notice the slight shake in his knees from nervousness.
“Hangfruit you say!? That’s not a house I am familiar with. Where do you hail from, Sir Thorn?” The fat guard eyed him suspiciously.
“Let the Knights ask that question, or do the esteemed royal guards find it appropriate to overstep their bounds without shame?” Before Thorn could reply, a well-armored person stepped in from behind the guards and said in a dignified tone.
"What the hell? Is everyone here a hero or something?" Thorn murmured to himself.
“Now, good sir! Shall I escort you inside? Pardon, but we cannot allow even a noble from a foreign land to venture inside unattended,” the knight spoke to Thorn, beaming with confidence.
“Are you quite sure, Sir Acer? It is the role of the Royal Guards to inspect visitors. Why is the first knight order intervening here?” The fat guard seemed persistent.
“Enough with your tomfoolery! Halt this at once, lest your tongue brings humiliation to the very court you guard!” Sir Acer seemed kind of dumb. “Honorable Sir of the Hangfruit house! Come now, pay these imps no heed. Is it his majesty you seek? Then I, Acer of the first knights, shall be your escort!”
“M-majesty?? Wait… this seems serious! Wait! Wait, I say!” Thorn nervously dashed after Sir Acer, who dutifully took him inside the palace.
As Thorn and Sir Acer walked towards the court, he couldn''t help but be awestruck by the grandeur of the palace. Tall, majestic domes adorned with intricate patterns and vibrant colors loomed overhead, creating an imposing yet enchanting sight.
The palace was constructed using a blend of white marble and richly colored tiles, depicting intricate geometric designs and floral motifs. Each step he took was met with the soft crunch of the gravel pathways that meandered through lush gardens filled with beautiful plants and blossoms. The sound of water trickling from ornate fountains filled the air, providing a soothing ambiance that was a fresh change from the bustling activity of the city.
As they approached the court, massive arched doorways with delicately carved patterns loomed before them. Colorful stained-glass windows adorned the hallways, casting a kaleidoscope of hues onto the marble floors. Elaborate chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, their crystal pendants glinting in the soft light, while the walls were adorned with exquisite tapestries and finely carved wooden panels.
“Sir Acer! Who is this you have brought? We were not informed of any visitations at this hour?” The guards in front of the court seemed stiff as well, Thorn thought.
“It is but Sir Thorn of the Hangfruit house. Do you question his merits the way the front guards did?”
While technically true, Sir Acer’s phrasing made it sound like the front guards had already done a thorough inspection.
Sir Acer turned towards Thorn and spoke with a dignified smile, “Sir Thorn! I beseech your leave, but I must attend to my duties. If your honor would step beyond these doors, you would arrive at the court. I fare thee well!” he turned as his mantle flowed with his motion and walked away with his head held high.
Thorn was fully entranced by the magnificence of the knight, momentarily forgetting that he was being presented in front of the King. The court guards, fully convinced that the person standing in front of them was a noble with a lineage arriving with permission of the first knight order, looked at each other and granted Thorn access to the inner court.
As he stepped in, still looking behind at the magnificent silhouette of the departing knight, he failed to realize the situation he had stepped into until the guard made the announcement.
“Entering before His Majesty, King Janleva Ringlrebro, Sir Thorn of the Hangfruit house, entering now!”
Thorn turned around. The court was an impressive building, separate from the rest of the palace, with a slanted roof standing on large circular columns; the court was huge. The ceiling was at least 50 feet high in the center, dropping off to around 40 on each of the left and right sides. The base colors for the inside were white, red, and silver. The carpet on the floor was silver as well, with a central red walkway leading up to the throne. On both sides of the court seats were placed where nobles sat facing the central walkway.
There were around 20 nobles present besides the King who was sat on a throne at the opposite end of the court. An imposing mustached figure stood slightly behind and to the right of the King.
The throne itself stood on a slightly raised platform. Made of polished white marble, it had a distinct motif reminiscent of a rising sun. The seating part was encircled by strategically placed marble that looked like radiant rays of light, extending in all directions like a peacock spreading its plume. Each ray seemed to capture the essence of sunlight, crafted with meticulous attention to detail. Adorned with colored glass and gemstones, the throne sparkled with a mesmerizing play of colors as sunlight streamed through the intricately designed windows of the court.
The throne''s backrest was adorned with a central crest, depicting the emblem of Partisita - a radiant sun rising above the cresting waves of the sea, representing the coastal nation''s resilience and prosperity. Looking at the extravagant and intricate marvel in front of him, Thorn had but one thought:
“That looks super uncomfortable to sit on…”
King Janleva Ringlrebro, sat elegantly on the throne. He was quite short, not quite to the level of a dwarf, but still no more than 4 foot 6 inches. Still, he had an air of elegance about him. He wore a dazzling robe of rich, deep purple velvet adorned with intricate gold embroidery that formed delicate patterns of winding vines and geometric shapes. Around his neck, he wore a necklace of precious gemstones that caught the light and sparkled like stars in the night sky. Rings adorned his fingers, each a work of art crafted by the finest jewelers in the land.
But what truly captured everyone''s attention was the crown atop his head. It was tall, at least a foot in height, crafted from gold and encrusted with an array of gemstones that dazzled the eye.
King Janleva''s face was adorned with a well-groomed beard that framed his strong jawline and complemented his regal countenance. His eyes, deep and wise, and his thin, arched eyebrows conveyed a sense of authority.
As Thorn walked up to the throne and bowed diligently, the King spoke,
“Raise your head, noble one. We have witnessed your respect; now, let us hear your troubles “
Thorn looked up directly at the King, and all of it hit him. The marvelous city, the majestic palace, and the regal court. The eyes of all the nobles planted at him, and especially the mighty gaze of King. He felt life leaving his legs, his heart felt like it was trying to escape out of his throat, and his chest bore the weight of a thousand men. Cold sweat ran across his face.
“Why am I here?”, he thought, “I do not belong!”