unwanted TREASURE

chapter seven

Richard

The tension in the room was palpable as we entered the hall of the middle land. The air was thick with hostility, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me. The hall was packed, a veritable sea of people from both kingdoms, all with their eyes fixed on the two kings who were about to negotiate the fate of their sons and their kingdoms.

King Edward of the Middle Land stood at the front, waiting for my father to arrive. His expression was cold, calculating, as always. I could see the flicker of pride in his eyes as he surveyed the gathering. He knew this was a significant moment, but I doubted he understood just how much was at stake.

Then my father, King David, finally entered the room, his usual regal composure masking the boiling anger that I could sense beneath the surface. As he stood next to King Edward, he barely hid his disdain for the surroundings.

“I’m glad you showed up,” King Edward said, standing up and speaking in his usual self-assured manner.

“We had no choice but to show up in this Godforsaken place,” my father responded, his tone biting.

“I will not have you speak about my kingdom like that,” King Edward snapped, his voice low but laced with fury.

My father’s lips curled into a sarcastic smile. “Is there any other way it can be described?”

Before King Edward could respond, a voice interrupted. It was Cyrus, his son, who stood up, his presence commanding immediate attention.

“I know it’s not right for me to speak when two great men are talking,” Cyrus began, his words dripping with mock humility, “but we have to get to business.”

King David narrowed his eyes at him. “Well said. Why do you have my son in your custody?”

Cyrus straightened, and with a look that almost bordered on smug, he responded, “Prince Harry was caught destroying property and disorganizing the village. I’m afraid to say that he might be a spy.”

I felt my blood boil at the accusation. The very idea that Harry, my brother, could be seen as a spy, was ridiculous. “My son was not sent here as a spy,” King David retorted, his voice hardening. “And if he was destroying something, there must be a good explanation for that.”

Cyrus scoffed. “What in the world could be a good explanation for destroying people’s property?”

Before I could hold back any longer, I spoke up. “Why don’t we ask him?”

Cyrus’ eyes glinted with irritation, but he motioned to his guards. “Guards, bring in the prisoners.”

Moments later, Harry and his friends were brought into the hall. They were disheveled, and they faced a mixture of frustration and determination. As soon as Harry saw our father, he called out to him. “Father!”

King David’s voice softened for a moment. “What happened?”

Harry quickly spoke, his tone filled with both anger and confusion. “We were in the village, just playing around, and all of a sudden, Prince Cyrus demanded our arrest.”

Cyrus cut him off. “Tell him about the property part.”

“We didn’t tamper with anyone’s property,” Harry replied, his voice rising with conviction. “The people got wild when they realized we’re from the Middle West.”

“Liar!” Cyrus spat, glaring at Harry.

“You have no right to call my son a liar,” King David said, his voice cold and commanding. “It looks like you’re the one lying, Cyrus.”

King Edward’s eyes narrowed as he spoke. “And you want to say my son is the one lying?”

“Looks like it,” I said, my voice laced with sarcasm. I couldn’t let Cyrus get away with his false accusations.

“Why would I do that?” Cyrus demanded, but I could see the anger boiling in his eyes.

“To get into war,” I replied, my own frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Richard,” Cyrus sneered. “I’m not war-minded like you.”

“You know what?” I shot back, stepping forward, ready to confront him head-on. “Bring it on. My men can take you down in less than an hour.”

Cyrus stood tall, a dangerous smile crossing his face. “Perfect. I’m in.”

“Enough!” King Edward shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. “There will be no war.”

“It’s between me and your son,” I retorted, my gaze locked on Cyrus. “You have no say in this.”

King Edward’s eyes shifted between me and my father, the weight of the situation finally settling in. “King David, we’re getting older. We need to pass on leadership to our sons. But look at them.” He gestured to us. “They’ll wipe each other out, and I don’t think that’s what you want.”

King David hesitated, then nodded. “You’re right. We need peace between the two kingdoms.”

I clenched my fists, frustration rising again. “Father, no one keeps the rules of the treaty.”

King David’s eyes met mine, and I saw a flicker of understanding. “It’s for everyone’s wellbeing, son,” he said, his tone softer now. “We have to sign it.”

King Edward smiled, relief washing over his face. “I’m glad you understand. And we are willing to sign.”

“Great,” my father replied curtly. “But we need something to use as a symbol of peace.”

“What do you want?” King Edward asked, his voice betraying his interest in securing the treaty.

“What is good in this kingdom?” King David asked, his eyes scanning the room.

King Edward raised an eyebrow, considering the question. “We can give you a piece of land.”

“Perfect,” my father replied without hesitation.

King Edward’s smile widened. “Then we will sign the peace treaty tomorrow.”

“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath. This wasn’t how I envisioned this meeting going, not by a long shot.

After the meeting, my father, King David, returned home with his men, but I was too furious to speak. I refused to join the family for dinner, my anger burning inside me. I couldn’t understand how my father could accept a piece of land—their land—as a symbol of peace. How could he not see the absurdity of it all?

That night, as I sat alone in my room, sharpening my sword, my mother came to me. I didn’t look up as she entered, but I could feel her presence.

“My son,” she said softly.

I grunted in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything. My emotions were still too raw.

“Why didn’t you join us at the dining table?” she asked, sitting beside me.

“I’m too annoyed to eat,” I muttered.

“Son, you have to understand,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. “Your father did the right thing. War is not the solution to a problem. It only makes things worse.”

I shook my head, my frustration spilling over. “Mother, he accepted a piece of land as a symbol of peace. How is that right?”

“What did you want?” she asked, her tone calming.

“I wanted something reasonable,” I snapped. “Not a land that’s already theirs!”

She sighed, her hand gently resting on my shoulder. “I agree that was unreasonable, but please forgive him.”

I took a deep breath, my anger still simmering beneath the surface. “I won’t be so soft like father. I won’t risk the lives of our people. As long as I’m alive, history won’t repeat itself. Father failed the people back in the days. But I won’t.”

She looked at me, her eyes filled with understanding. “The people died because our men were weak, not because your father signed a peace treaty. But this time around, we can stop war by signing it. So why not embrace it?”

I turned to face her, my voice low. “I’m not stopping anyone from signing the treaty. But will they keep it?”

She smiled, standing to leave. “Thank you, Richard. Let me talk to your father. I think I know how it can be kept.”

Before she left, she gave me a brief hug. “Goodnight. I’m sending someone with your food.”

As she walked out, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeper was at play here—something my father hadn’t told me. And I wasn’t sure I could trust the peace he’d signed.