Richard
I stormed through the narrow corridors of the castle, my boots slamming against the stone floor with every step. My blood was boiling, the anger coursing through me like wildfire. It was as if the walls themselves were closing in, the tension of the day thickening the air with each passing moment. I didn't care that Harry was trailing behind me, his voice calling out like a distant echo.
"Richard, let me explain!"
I didn't stop. There was nothing to explain. Not anymore.
"What's there to explain, Harry?" I snapped over my shoulder. "people from the middle land aren't supposed to be on our soil." My teeth clenched, and my hands tightened into fists. This was no small matter. Foreigners—strangers—on our land? We had rules for a reason. They'd been broken. And there was no good explanation for that. None.
Harry caught up to me, breathless, his voice pleading. "They're my friends, Richard. We were only having a good time."
A good time. The words tasted bitter on my tongue. How sure was he? How sure was I? "How sure are you that they're your friends?" I turned to face him, my words sharp as a dagger. "They might be spies, Harry. You're too blind to see it."
He looked at me as if I had just slapped him. "For goodness' sake, Richard, you don't have to be so war-minded! I'm telling you, they are my friends!" His voice cracked slightly, but there was no stopping the stubbornness in him, just like always.
I ground my teeth together. This wasn't about friendship; this was about survival. And I wasn't about to let some naive idealism cloud the reality of what could happen if we weren't careful.
"Why don't we hear what Father has to say?" I shoved open the door to the throne room, the wood groaning under my force. The king was there, sitting at his desk, his face hard as stone, eyes flicking up when we entered. He hadn't moved an inch since we walked in, but I could feel his gaze on me, assessing.
"Father," I said, my voice steady, though the anger still burned beneath the surface.
King David looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Richard," he said in that deep, rumbling voice, always calm, always measured. But there was a hint of something else there, something I couldn't quite place.
"People from then middle land were on our soil today," I said, my words coming out in a harsh, clipped tone. I had no time for pleasantries.
Harry was quick to interject, stepping forward with that same defiant spark in his eyes. "Father, they are my friends. Nothing more."
The king's gaze flickered between the two of us, his eyes narrowing just slightly. It was as if he could sense something I couldn't. Something darker. "How sure are you that you're not being used?" His voice was low, careful, but there was a steel edge to it. He'd been the ruler of this kingdom for a reason. He understood the dangers of misplaced trust better than anyone.
I watched Harry, my brother, and saw the way his jaw tightened. He didn't like the question, but the king's words weren't wrong. He had to see that.
"I've known them for a long time now, Father," Harry said, his voice firm. He wasn't backing down, even though he knew the weight of our father's judgment could crush him if it came to that. "They would never betray me."
Never. That word hung in the air like a challenge. But I couldn't afford to believe in never. I couldn't afford to be so naive.
Father leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his lips as he regarded Harry with a measured silence. For a long moment, no one spoke. I could feel the weight of the king's eyes on my brother, the silent interrogation that only a father could give.
Finally, King David exhaled softly. "You may believe that, my son. But trust is not so easily given. And loyalty… loyalty is not as simple as friendship. People change. Alliances shift. And sometimes, what you think is friendship, can be the sharpest of weapons."
Harry stood there, the fire in his eyes flickering, but he didn't say anything more. He couldn't. He wasn't ready to see it the way I did. Not yet.
But I was. I saw it clearly. The danger was here, right on our doorstep, dressed up as something harmless. I could feel the walls of the castle closing in on us, a slow, suffocating pressure building with every passing second.
And Harry? He was too blinded by his friendship to see it.
Father's voice was calm, but his words were a warning. "Be cautious, Harry. You may think you know them, but trust is fragile. And once broken, it's almost impossible to rebuild."
I could feel the tension hanging in the air, thick and unyielding. This wasn't over. No, this was just the beginning. There was something wrong with all of this, something I couldn't put into words yet, but I knew it. I could feel it in the marrow of my bones.
I wasn't ready to trust the people from that godforsaken land. Not yet. And I wasn't sure I ever would be.
"This should be the last time they are seen on our soil or..." I let the threat hang in the air, heavy and unspoken.
Harry turned, rolling his eyes. "Or what? Wage war? Not everything can be settled through war. And let me advise you, my dear elder brother, make some friends. Your life is too boring."
I clenched my jaw, but didn't respond to his mockery. Instead, I turned to Father. "Father, are you going to allow him to walk away?"
Father didn't look up from his maps but replied in a tone that carried the weight of experience. "Let him go, Richard. We will investigate and find out if they are spies. But for now, let him be."
I was silent for a moment, my mind racing with possibilities, but I bowed and turned, my footsteps heavy as I walked in Harry's direction.