Upon a bench placed in the middle of a lavish garden stood a man, his face bore one scar stretching from ear to ear covering both eyes, but aside from that blemish his face was charmingly bright. As he slowly opened his eyes and oblique whitish gray was revealed, luckily he was rumored to be only mute, not blind, he sat in a dashing full white suit, no tie. 

Many steps away, two servants conversed, one male, one female.

”Did you hear the news? Aken is being sent out as a chief commander!,” the maid hushedly told.

A deep worry appeared upon the man’s face  his formal black suite creasing as he pulled it down with his index and pointed finger. With his jaw clinched, he looked towards Aken with a sorry full expression.

”but he is mute! The battalion assigned to him will be wasted! No honorable soldier should be wasted in such a way!” 

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

He hushed when he felt a gaze land upon him, he turned to see Aken stood up, staring straight at him.

The maid noticing his nervousness spoke up, “do not worry the first prince has no spine, let’s continue the tour for your first day as a servant,” and as she said so they continued walking through the stone corridor. Aken’s deep gray pupils following their every step until they were out of sight. Once they were out of sight, he looked down at his fine shoes. Instinctively his hand reached up and scratched his neck before adjusting his collar. He looked up upon the blue sky and then upon the ground once more. From his nostrils a deep gust flowed, before he turned and began walking towards the closest corridor. 

along his path he found a servant or two, all of which hushed upon noticing him. He stopped for breath not once, trecking through a long stretch of hallways, huge glass windows long the walls putting him in and out of light. He stopped. Infront of him was the first door the he had seen upon his route. He pushed it upon revealing an open space much alike to the garden from before, but his eyes did not waver from a single spot, a painted wooden carriage. His ticket from one hell to one greater hell.