If work was anything as proud as I used to think, this was hell. Every book I flipped seemed to never end. Understandable? No.., no. This was torture; it was no lesson. I hated it even before beginning it. "Jaykim." I shouted from the walls of this impeccable library of fathers. I was tired. From the morning the lady left, I did not get a glimpse of how the outside works were going or how the sun was moving from the east side horizon down its orbits. I was here, ingrained in these books. "Sir, you called for me." The guard by the name of Jaykim entered. A tall, melanin-colored guy with a sizeable physique would sure win any woman over. "The books. I have read. Not all, but some. I just wanted a proofread of all this. What is it about these businesses?" I stated. He did not flinch nor reply; all he did was walk towards the set shelves, pick six really old books, if I may say, place them on my table, and state, "Wrong books, you so have read, my lord. These are the common ones, which ingrain all the activities. Tomorrow, a shipment from Kazakhstan arrives; it contains paper processing machinery and typewriters. However, deep-seated, it shall have shipments for fighting and for the military. The head of the military is to arrive next week to create a negotiation. Vikings statements were clear to as: You'll set the place where we will pick the shipments, for thieves are around, and additionally, the local police yearn for a lot of tax from our shipments. You have to give us the order, and we will alight in the area." How, why, what, honestly, how did he expect me to understand all this? I was just an unlucky born boy, called a bastard. How am I suddenly engraved from life with a princess to this? However, this is no moment to think of possibilities and reality, as father detailed so well in the letter. He yearns to give me his responsibilities. "How did you do with father? The shipments. How did you evade the taxes? And the price with the military head—what is the cut-off price?" I asked, to which he walked closer towards me and specified "I am afraid, but you shall be the first to create a negotiation in regard to the fighting machinery, for this is the first time the duke ingrains himself with military services and works. About the tax collectors, we mostly take out the shipments in the middle of the night, on the east side of the shore. We pay some men to alight them here, mostly, it is to be the men in the hotel, as you know. Additionally, the Vikings left by saying, you shall take ownership of everything in here; that's why today, everyone awaits to see you fight with the hotel owner's daughter." To avoid confusion, the hotel owner had negotiations with father in regard to the hotel. Father owned a share, and so did he. However, the running and businesses were taken over by that gentleman, and today I sure shall get the name. "What happens when I lose the fight?" I knew this took him aback from the way he suddenly glanced at me. "There is no losing; it's always a fight till death." He stated this in a rather calm but hurtful voice. "Father, so…" I stated and he interrupted, "Yes, this is Tigris. There are no rules; we rule each other. Whoever wins in that ring earns royalty; whoever loses, six feet down, they are rules, your Lordship. I am afraid, but you have to win, or we will lose and forget you." The statements were not as easy; they shoved: cold blood, no pain, nothingness. Lake Tigris was a part of London that not many yearned for or reached out to. I knew it was better than the other parts of the city, but hearing that my father had once killed to attain loyalty made me hurt just as much. He created the rules, though, and he sure should have changed them. "How do I win?" He just shook his head at that, saying, "She is one of the best fighters in this part of the city. She is a trained machine from China, and her reflexes are amazing. Unless you negotiate with her, you sure shall wilt the wrath of the ring." What had my father gotten me into? Today, the princess was not anywhere ingrained in my thoughts. She was far away; I just don't know where. I needed to practice at least some punch throwing, left and right side kicks, some dodges—I don't know. I was never a fighter, honestly. Was my father trying to kill me? "How do I negotiate when I know little to nothing about her?" "I don't know your lordship. It's for you to decide, or you can hire someone to finish her off." One thing about this guard was that he spoke as if dying were nothing but a toss of the coin. I had forgotten to notice the big scar on his forehead, which he hid with his work hat. "What happened? Your forehead." "Nothing big, just fighters caught out in the wrong fight scene." He stated it without a smile, and so I decided to ask, "Do I have to kill someone?" "Yes, or else, no loyalty. Here we live a civilized life with no fucking socials and no fucking classes. It's a fight for just royalty. If manageable, bid the case; if not, lose the case six feet underground. It's that simple." "Why then do you work for the Duke?" He laughed and continued, "Here it's not work; it is a sign of honor. He treats us as his brothers and sisters. We can leave whenever and alight whenever." The fact that Lake Tigris was different made me wonder. I had not even once heard of a place set up in such a way; here, it seemed the hotel set the rules. It was their kingship. That's why no one came to wake me from my slumber, no one helped me to wear clothes, and no one set the bath tub with water. This was not some act of loyalty and servitude; it was an act of honor and self-respect." I understand" was the only thing I stated. I understood, but I understood little to nothingness; how didn't my father tell me this? Lake Tigris was no social class place, which I knew; it was much of the middle class, lads. "Are you going to train?" He asked, and this made me check the watch provided by my father attached in his letter to me; it was almost five in the evening. "Of course, yes. When does the wrestling begin?" I asked. "It begins at about nine o'clock at night." He states and bows after his quest to leave. After leaving, I decide to check on the books of accounts for some time and then leave to look for a well-trained guard to help me with my fighting skills. "Your arm, sir, is quite stiff when throwing punches; haven't you been training?" I had not trained for a couple of weeks since my visit to London. By training, I mean physical exercise; however, in relation to fight scenes, my last fight was when I was thirteen with a boy in school, other than my little man-to-man sneering between William and I. After almost two hours of endless punch-throwing and dodging, I sit down for some water and relaxation when the guard states, "You are not as bad as I thought, Lord Willock. However, your punches are too slow; you will need more time to learn. Your physique and stamina are quite sufficient, but the slowness of your counterattack will be your weakness. I advise you to find another strategy with today's fight." I did not say anything, but just nodded. After, I went straight for a bath and wore simple Viking clothes in addition to a hat that made me look different, for I laughed even at my watch on the reflection set on my wall. Additionally, as I set outside, everyone looked at me, especially the maidens, who stared at me with some indistinct, but rather, I prefer not to say, looks. "Sir, the carriage is ready. You sure look like a Viking." The guard said, he was sure teasing me. I had different guards in this place. The door's guards were two, and the main gate's guards were two too. Jaykim was the head keeper of the house, and he knew all the activities that ran in this place. My personal guard was not much of a favorite, though; his name was Hakeem or something. I preferred having him away, for he was used to telling the Viscount and the Vikings each and every place I alighted, like a snitch. I entered the carriage as the guard who helped me with training alighted in front to direct the horses. There was a little space between my seat and his, so I decided to talk. "Hey, I never got your name." He seemed to quite not hear me, with which I cleared my throat and repeated in a rather loud tone, when he replied, "Drax sir." I had too many people in the house; I sure couldn't even mention or know their names, but I sure knew each and every face. None would dare steal any Duke's property. "Drax. I've never heard of such a name." I stated this as he started the carriage when the gates were widely opened. I saw him make a slight smile and then state, "I am not from around. Just alighted." Oh, he was one of the guards the King had provided for me. "You belong to the King?" He just nodded, as his eyes and focus were on the road and the muscular horses, to the extent that I felt like reaching to the front to help him; however, that would be bad. It was not something a lordship was fashioned for; hence, I took back the thought as fast as I rethought it. After that, the journey was quite silent, with the hotel being just a few miles from the Vikings house. "Arrived sir." He stated this as he stepped down and opened the door for me. "Thank you." I stated this as I stepped down. "Are you ready for the fight?" He asked and continued, "I hear she is quite talented." "How much?" "I'm not quite sure, your lordship; I just heard from the guards." At this moment, I was not quite sure if I should be nervous or just let it happen. Maybe I needed to watch the first fight and know how it went. The hotel was, of course, luminous and well arranged, as it always was, but downstairs, screams could be heard and encouragement voices were not forgotten. "Do you think I'm strong?" I asked the guard, who was scrutinizing the place, and when he heard my statement, he chuckled beneath his breath and stated, "Lord William is the only human who can dictate that." That was not a settled response; it was not funny as so, and as if in realization, he suddenly withdrew his statement, "Apologies, I didn't mean anything. This is not about strength, but strategy." I just nodded to that and lightly caught his arm, trying to tell him there was nothing to apologize about.
Underground was not the best of places anyone would ever love to look at. Quite the opposite of the hotel upstairs. The place smelled of blood, tension, and death. Suddenly the confidence I had turned into fear, like a dog placing its tail between its legs. I suddenly felt the urge to leave, run, and never show up, but leaving? Where would I leave? Father had already assigned me activities here, and I needed to take the greatest control of them. This was my only chance to prove my worth to myself and maybe to the world. "I'll leave to freshen up." I stated to the guard, who tried to follow me, but I stopped him in his tracks. "No, you enjoy the wrestling. I'll be back." I knew he did not want to leave, but since this was out of my order, he had no option but to accept it. As I walked through the underground tunnels searching for the toilets, I brushed shoulders with some soft human. "Apologies." I stated that as fast. It was just a brush, but I don't know; my anxiety and fear had taken over, and my mind was not even fitted for or focused on the pathway. "It was just a brush, sir. No need to apologize." It was a girl. She was quite slender and shorter. Her face was quite hidden by some silk Punjabi cloth that hid her mouth and some parts of her forehead. I could not get her facial features as well. "What are you looking for? This place is dangerous for a royal like you." She stated. I suddenly looked at my clothes. I had tried my level best not to look even remotely like a royal, but however she recognized me, I don't know. "I have a fight." I stated, which made her laugh, then apologized after, "You are going to fight with my sister?" "Your sister?" I was a little bit confused when she stated, "You are to be the Vikings son, aren't you?" "Yes," I stated, as fast as I could. And then the thoughts of the scheming provided by the Jaykim guard came to me: "Where is your sister? Can I see her?" "No." She stated this even before I finished my statements. "I will pay. Okay, I promise it won't be long." "State the price." "Any amount you wish." I stated. With that, she directed me towards some tunnels, past some arts, workings, and lightings, and then knocked on a wooden door with brown polish and written "close on entry'. I was not a judge on some things, but honestly, this was petty. However, the door opened, and a little boy, about five years old, stated, "It's sister and (looking at me) a royalty." I was not royalty, c'mon; I did not have a crown; I just wore what I was used to wearing. "Tell her he wishes to speak. Bargain for money, on our wish." He stated the same words that the sister said, when the door suddenly opened and we were asked to enter. The house was lavish, white, and had a double-decker bed in one corner. It was not as big as mine in the Duke's, but it was quite noticeable, some female living, with the various colorings that surrounded. "What brings you here?" A melodious voice, near my ear, from the back asked me. As I wanted to turn my head, she instead caught a glimpse of my hands and pressed them on my back, forcing me to kneel out of pain. "I, negotiation. Just negotiation." I stated this in a rather groaning voice. "We don't value royalties here. Are you sent by some government?" She asked, pressing her knee on my back quite sharply. She was strong; William was not even as strong as this. "No, I..." I was interrupted by her sister: "He is the duke's son." And with that, she immediately stopped and helped me up as I tried to adjust my body out of the torture it had previously experienced. With that, we both took a moment to study each other: her black pupils, bushy eyelashes, and thin nose. Her face was thin and blemish-free, and her hair quite represented that of Arabian descent. Flourishing. However, I was not in the mood to scrutinize. I needed a negotiation as fast, and as if realizing, she suddenly hid her face, just like the sister had done. "Willock." She spoke this in a rather calm voice. And I just nodded to that. "Am Willock, How have you been?" I asked, and suddenly she evaded her eyes from mine, shy type maybe. "We are set to be in the ring. Why are you here? One of us is set to die. I think you should be practicing." She stated, and so I replied, "That's exactly why I'm here. Negotiation." Instead of a reply, she mimicked with some chuckle, "negotiation? Negotiation with a Duke." Some negotiation I hoped for. Maybe, maybe some. I was not set to lose my life on a fight scene. Some negotiation!