On his way homing, riding the cart with the boy in the back, bound and hidden, Chapman was feeling mighty content with himself. He felt like he had just committed the greatest thievery of all time. He was rich.

Then something in his head clicked. How exactly was the boy worth so much? Had he stolen a gem, or some jewelry, he would be looking for a fence to pawn it off to, but the boy was clearly more worth than any fence could ever produce. How could he possibly sell him at such an undercut rate?

No, if he wanted to turn the greatest treasure into an amount of coin that could match its worth, only one possible customer could match that. The king of the country.

But how would a lowly merchant like Chapman ever be able to receive an audience with the king? The question plagued him all the way home. He didn’t reach an answer.

As he moved to unload the haul, he remembered a fact. Though it was surely the greatest treasure he could have ever imagine, it was still undeniably a young lad. It would need to be clothed and fed and taken care of. He quickly decided to entrust the matter to his wife.

Chapman’s wife, Hemu, was often in on his tricks and more devious schemes, working quietly in the background to smooth things out. She helped him keep tabs on rumors, win favor with important persons and much more. Chapman also had two sons and a daughter. All younger than five.

Chapman and Hemu did not love each other, but found the marriage to be mutually beneficial arrangement. Hemu had access to luxuries she could not have received from a more modest marriage, and Chapman had access to a beauty that could raise his reputation.

It was this Hemu that Chapman woke in the middle of the night and explained his haul.

“Here, see? We’re going to be rich beyond our wildest dreams!” Chapman proudly declared as he presented the still sleeping, bound young man.

Hemu was confused. What boy was it? Had he kidnapped some important person’s kid? She might have aided him before, but was had this not gone too far? Alas, she was already accomplice to many misdeeds and could naught but nod.

While Darl’s skill would have fully matured at this point, the chance of it taking hold was abysmally low. Chapman had simply won a terrible lottery, and Hemu was completely unaffected by his distorted world view.

“Very well. But where shall we keep him, they hayloft?” Hemu inquired. Chapman was furious. Could his daft wife not see this immaculate treasure? It was if one had suggested safekeeping a precious jewel in sand and mud. No, the sane thing was keep it in a shrine.

“Are you stupid, woman? Clear the kid’s room and keep him in there. And tend to his every need. Should he be damaged and lose even a hundredth of his value, it would be a worse monetary loss than burning our entire estate to the ground.”

Hemu was speechless. Just who had he kidnapped.

“Oh, and if you have any good ideas of coming in contact with the king, let me now.” Chapman said as he went to bed. A prince! Her husband had kidnapped a prince!

Hemu was scared speechless. What risky situation had her husband put her in? Surely, they would have been in trouble had any of their previous schemes been discovered, but this was on a whole different level.

Though it was still in the middle of the night, she went to clear the toddlers of their room, much to their discontent, and with trouble lugged the sleeping Darl to take their place. She studied the sleeping young man.

A fine, thin face with delicate features with a thin body to match. Perhaps only a little shorter than her. He had bright, blonde hair and was pale of complexion. She checked his hands, which were nearly as soft as those of her baby, which she bore to term only recently.

No doubt about it, it was certainly a prince. Luckily they had already procured a bed for their oldest, which he could be placed in. She found fresh sheets and her fanciest cover for him. She was terrified and only hoped to treat the young man so well, that if they were discovered, she would be spared. She loosened his bonds and placed his head gently on a pillow.

After doing what she could, she hastily retreated to calm down the complaining toddlers and crying baby, before getting to bed when it was almost dawn.

A few hours later, Darl awoke. He was groggy, but quickly jumped up to check his unfamiliar surroundings.

“A-annika?” he whispered quietly. He despaired.

Annika’s dependence on the young man had also resulted in the opposite being true, and with her nowhere to be found, he was panicking. He ran to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He looked around to find a window, which he immediately tried to open, but it was shut. He was trapped.

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Darl was at his wit’s end. He was in a place he had never been before. The person who was always with him was nowhere to be found. He quickly sought to what comfort he could find in the pillow and cover and hid himself. He rocked slowly back and forth in an attempt to calm himself but it didn’t work. He only grew more anxious.

A few hours passed with Darl in such a pitiful state, before a knock on the door was heard. “Are you awake?” a female voice was heard.

“Ann?” It was different from Ann’s voice, but it was the only one Darl could think of and he so hoped to see her appear.

“Excuse me.” Hemu said as she opened the door. She brought with her a delicious-looking breakfast. It was the sweetest waffles she knew how to make, drizzled with sugar, honey and apples. Alongside it was freshly squeezed orange juice and it was all carried on a tray and put on the nightstand next to the bed. It was nothing short of luxury compared to the average meal one would expect to have in this village.

“Pl-please enjoy.” Hemu was short of sleep and had slaved long to keep children happy and preparing luxurious breakfast.

“Who.. Who are you?” Darl hesitantly asked. He was merely trying to alleviate his confusion, but Hemu didn’t perceive it that way. What she saw a kidnapped royal asking for her captor’s name. It was surely to get revenge when he was ransomed.

“I am nobody important, I am merely here to tend to your needs.” She said, and quickly vacated the room. Poor Darl was so confused. He looked over the delicious-looking breakfast, but didn’t touch it. The feelings of anxiety of confusion had completely drowned out what feeling of hunger he had.

In the meantime, Chapman had left to visit a friend of his, the local viscount. Friend was probably too heavy a word for their relationship, but Chapman often sold it as so to others, in order to borrow the authority and influence of the viscount.

Their relationship in fact mostly only consisted in Chapman procuring various luxury goods that the viscount wished for. The viscount wasn’t that rich and had to rely on a man like Chapman in order to get what he wanted, rather than a large merchant company, as most nobles did.

Chapman had never visited him before, without being sent for first. He had been told to inform the viscount, should he come across any unique delicatessens, but it was clearly only an invite to send a letter or ask one of his men to carry the message.

But Chapman was paranoid. He had the world’s greatest treasure on his hands and he wanted as few people as possible to know about it. He had to keep them quiet and he could only think of letting them have the cut of his precious profits in order to accomplish that. The fewer co-conspirators, the more money he could make out with.

As he reached the estate of the viscount, he explained that he must see the lord under any circumstance. The guards were familiar enough with him and chapman was taken to the foyer, while the viscount was informed of his appearance.

The viscount was amidst paperwork for his territory. A viscount wasn’t a proper noble, but rather a commoner elevated to the position of noble for single generation. They were employed a territory’s proper owner to manage a small slice of it and were one usually connected to a single city and its surrounding regions, including any villages or large farmsteads, that may lay on it.

This particular viscount was called Rankel, and he was currently fuzzing over paperwork to his greatest ability. Rankel was no hard worker, but recently it was discovered by the count, whom he was employed by, that the territory Rankel was responsible for had not paid out the taxes it should.

The reason was of course that Rankel had embezzled money and spent them on various luxuries. After all, a lot of brown-nosing and humiliation and sleepless nights was spent to finally become a noble, if only a viscount, and he was sure it would be smooth sailing from here. And he deserved it!

But could he not produce an adequate sum of money, it would be obvious he had cheated. He would likely be executed for treason. Though he was already past 50, he had no plans on dying just yet, and was working tirelessly to come up with the coin, somehow.

It was then a guard in his employ entered his office and informed him of Chapman’s arrival. Thought Rankel should have known better, given his current situation, he immediately started imagining what luxuries Chapman might have acquired and wanted them. He gave the okay for Rankel to see him.

But as Chapman was alone with him in Rankel’s office, it became clear that although it was not quite what he expected and hoped for, it was even better! Surely the heavens had recognized that he only took what he deserved and sent this opportunity as a bail-out! Those were the thoughts of Rankel, as Chapman explained he had gotten his hands on a treasure only a king could buy.

Rankel also had a way to directly inform the king. Any noble, including viscounts, could have their letters received by the palace. This was due to a variety of possibilities. Should a viscount work on a border territory and the enemy appear, it was important to inform the king as soon as possible, and not use counts and dukes as go-betweens.

Should a duke or count behave suspiciously, betraying or plotting against the crown, it was also important that viscounts could inform the royal house directly. At the same time, however, most people never used this ability. It was seen as holding the king in contempt to waste his time, which could lead to the death penalty. And wasting his time could include feeding wrong or useless information.

Were Rankel wiser or more careful, he would at least have inspected Chapman’s treasure first, but he was desperate for coin and thought it was a chance by heavens and immediately drafted a letter. The agreement between the two people ended on Rankel taking an eighth of the sale value, which should be more than enough, given the incredible value Chapman claimed the treasure to possess.

Meanwhile, as lunch rolled around, Hemu had prepared another meal to the limit of her abilities and prepared to deliver it to the prince. But as she entered the room, and the boy’s eyes darted to her, she felt offended. She had discovered that the breakfast she spent their luxury ingredients on hadn’t been touched, as if this prince thought he was too good to eat such peasantly food and she was mad.

But she quelled her anger out of her, carefully removed the breakfast tray and placed down the one for lunch. It contained a porridge made from special sweet seeds from the south, and covered with butter, sugar and one of the most expensive spices, cinnamon. Surely, even he would take part in a dish made with cinnamon!

But the poor Darl was simply anxious, frightened beyond belief. The food was barely even on his mind. The only thing he could think of, was to see Annika once again. He started crying as Hemu left.