“How incompetent can someone be to fuck up collecting taxes from simple peasants. PEASANTS! Why didn't you decapitate some of them? I am sure they could have paid then!”

“Sir, they were starving … ”

"Floating in the abyss. Nothingness. Relaxation. Stillness. No thoughts. No sounds. Just nothing." His mantra did not stop the noise that continued to break down the walls of silence and bliss. It continued to grow louder and louder until it reached a crescendo with a booming crash.

Res’s dreamworld tore apart and he sat upright. Thousands of incoherent questions flittered through Res’s mind. With a groan, his mental gears started turning and memories came flooding back. He was sitting on a giant four-poster bed and still in one of the royal palace’s honorary guest apartments. To Res’s great misfortune, he had received the room next to his father’s office.

His father banged his fist on the table. “I don't want to hear any more excuses. We needed that money for an important gift to one of the high lords. You failed! Get out of my sight!" As if it was an afterthought, his father added: "No salary for the next two months.”

“I have children and … ”

“OUT!”

A door banged shut and a fat body plopped into a chair. Then silence returned. Res was livid with rage. Someone else would have been angry at the treatment the family servant had received. Res was only furious that his father had woken him up. Grumbling, he cast about in his mind for an excuse to sleep longer.

“Now I have to move. I could just sleep a little more? Nah. I guess I’ll have to start the day at some point. ” He rolled out of his luxurious bed and combed a hand through his curly brown hair. “I should get a cut.” After a moment of hesitation, he concluded: “Nah, that would be too much work”.

Just as usual, he would grow his hair out until it reached his shoulders. At that length, it would inconvenience him more than going to the barber would. To the horror of his mother, he would always get his head shaven bald – That would delay another exhausting visit to the barber.

To someone who had never met Res before, he might seem like a resentful teenager.

Yet, Res’s eyes revealed a keen intelligence that had studied fundamental truths and ideas. At least he hoped so. For over four years, he had been thinking about free will, social norms, and the definition of ‘justice’. As a naïve ten-year-old boy, he had told his father about some of his findings. To illustrate them, he had explained the reasons behind most of his father’s actions. His father had been alienated by his behavior and had ignored him ever since.

“That may have something to do with the fact that I explained to mother that father was cheating on her with a maid. I don't know why she was so shocked by that and made all that fuzz. She doesn’t show him any appreciation for his work, so he gets it from somewhere else.”

He rubbed his eyes and walked over to the ornate washing bason. After his thirteenth birthday, his father had required him to shave every day and he had opposed the notion for an entire year. When his father had cut his pocket money, Res had realized that body care was necessary for him to maintain his lazy lifestyle. Res picked up the razor and shaved his teenage stubble.

With practiced motions, he dressed in his plain linen uniform with his family’s crest on his chest. His clothes only adhered to the minimum clothing standard in the court. Most of the time, he didn’t notice the condescending looks from his pompously dressed classmates. He opened the ornately carved door that led into the apartment’s living room and closed it again. Through the door slit, he peered at the monsters that occupied the living room.

His mother and her dozen tattletale friends were lounging in the living room. Only hearing their chattering and giggling for a moment, ground on his nerves. If he exited the usual way, they would bombard him with questions like: “Why aren’t you already in class?” and “How are your grades doing?”

 Res snorted in annoyance. “I can do without that. The quick way it is. I wanted to pass by the servant’s kitchen, anyway. Let’s hope the guards don’t catch me again. Sitting through another one of mother’s lectures on propriety would be a waste of energy.”

He retrieved a rope out of a cupboard and fastened it to one of his bed’s legs. Res took in a deep breath to calm himself and put on his trusty leather gloves. From his sixth-floor window, he looked for any patrols on the walkways beneath. With a groan from his non-existent muscles, he jumped out of the window. He clung to the rope as if his life depended on it and gritted his teeth as his hands heated up because of the friction. Still, he endured the pain and finally landed on solid ground.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The pain in his hand and ankle spread out like wildfire, but his instincts were reigned in by the iron wall of his mind.

When he turned to resume his walk, he saw a young maid about his age staring at him in apprehension. Res searched his mind for an appropriate reaction and settled on a conspiratorial wink. The small boost of adrenaline had brightened his mood, and he determined that it had been worth the risk. Whistling a catchy tune, he walked down the gorgeous tree avenue of the palace’s courtyard.

When Res was eight, his father had managed to suck up to one of the high lords. His father would always say: “gotten into the good graces”, but it was all the same. Licking other people’s shoes had earned his father a promotion, and they had moved into the palace.

Even after seven years of living in the palace, Res felt insignificant when he looked up at the pompous structure. It’s grand arches, ornate sculptures, and plush gardens turned it into artwork. The surrounding city of Trianon only enhanced its grandeur. The trade city itself stretched far into the distance. Trianon had a king, court, and laws. The only way it could thrive was the fact that it lay in the center of the continent. Because of its neutrality, it grew to be the center of trade and the home of two million people.

Most cities didn’t even come close to the five hundred thousand citizen mark. This immense population needed ludicrous amounts of grain from surrounding farming outposts. Res’s father, the baron Boris, had to ensure that a steady flow of grain continued nourishing the city.

Res buried both of his hands deep into his pockets and assumed his usual hunched walk. His steps slowed, as the smell of fresh-baked bread wafted over to his nose: “Let’s hope that she doesn’t talk much today. That would be mentally exhausting.”

The banging of pots and the angry shouts broke Res’s silent contemplation completely and he murmured: “Here we go again.”

He went down a small flight of stairs, into the kitchen where the servant’s meals were prepared. Tens of grubby cooks were preparing meat, baking bread, and making stews. Everyone turned to stare at Res even though he was a regular at this point. They only continued their work when the head chef’s ear-shattering voice called out. An overweight elderly woman with blonde hair and blue eyes emerged from a side room.

When she saw him, her demeanor changed in an instant and she bowed: “My lord, you have come again. I can’t express how much I appreciate your presence“. She continued with her praise for another minute and finally realized his impatient stare. ”Sorry for my babbling. What would you like to eat today?”

“Fresh bread would suffice”

 She immediately thrust a piping hot bun in Res’s face. “This is … ”

Res took a bite and cut her off: “This is excellent bread. Sorry, I must leave, maybe … ”.

He couldn’t continue as the chubby cook flung her arms around him and hugged him: “You are the first noble to ever compliment me and I will be forever thankful for that.”

The bun was only average, but Res couldn’t bear to say that out loud. Instead, he awkwardly patted the now crying woman on the head and said: “Yes, you are a talented cook. Where is Francis?”

The cook recoiled in shock when she realized what she had done: “I am sorry for … ”

“Don’t worry.”, Res waved it away.

Finally, she gave him the information he came here for. “He is in the canteen.”

Without further pleasantries, Res left the emotionally unstable cook to her own devices. Through a swing door, he entered the adjacent canteen. The whole room was situated partly underground and so the lighting was dim. Despite the dim light, he could make out the depressed form of the family head servant Francis. The middle-aged man sat on one of the crude wooden benches and staring into a mug of dark beer.

Res approached Francis’s wooden table and stood next to the hunched form for a moment. With a scraping noise that finally got the attention of Francis, Res slid four silver coins over to him. The servant’s eyes bulged when his gaze settled on Res.

He tried to stand up and bow to Res: “I-I am so sorry, milord. I didn’t see you else …”

Res waved the comment away, as he hated that kind of treatment: “I have serious questions. Would you take money from your employer’s son?”

“No, how could I.”

“Do you have enough money to feed your family for the next two months?”

“So, you overheard the conversation? Still, I still have some savings.”

Res realized he had no time for a rhetorical dance and his time would be better spent relaxing. He repeated his question: “Do you have enough money to feed your family for the next two months?”

Francis deflated. “No”

“Do you want your children to starve?”

“No”

“Would you rather break a code of honor than to let your children starve?”

“Yes”

“Then take the four silvers.”

“But, that’s two months of your pocket money.”

 “Silver is a metal. But, to receive this silver, I need you to do one thing.”

Judging by the look in Francis’s eyes, he would sell his soul if it meant that his children wouldn’t need to hunger. “You need to …” Francis’s palms began to sweat in anticipation at the horrible condition that was sure to come. “… relax.”

With the matter settled, he left the dumbfounded Francis with coins worth half a yearly craftsmen’s wage. In shock, Francis was only able to stare at the retreating back of Res. “I’ll never forget this. I’ll be forever in your debt.”

Res had already shoved the matter out of his mind and was now day-dreaming of a relaxing nap in the royal park.