Paper King; Chapter 1 - The Parade
For one, this parade took place very early in the morning, when the sky was still a muddy grey, shifting so slowly. It was also quite cold, and snow had peppered the streets, filling every nook and cranny of the city with frost. Black roses had been thrown into the slush, and the boy remembered staring at them for a very long time as people who paraded crushed them under their heels. It was a public event, but attending it made one feel as if you weren’t welcome there at all.
It wasn’t a very cheerful parade. It was a parade with black horses and black carriages bearing people dressed in black who appeared to be engaging in a very melancholic display. People were inside the carriages or walking behind them, shouting all manner of things. It was all very dreary and quite queer for someone so young to witness. He did recognize the fact that the people in the carriages were nobility. They bore the Imperial Family’s crest on their clothing, and they all carried themselves with grace and dignity, but he didn’t comprehend why everyone was sad, or why they all seemed to be crying.
In all actuality, during that event, the boy felt very, very bored. He kicked at the snow by his feet and got a stern warning from his mother in turn.
He wanted to get out of the uncomfortable black suit his mother had made him wear, and get out into the streets to build a snowman, or roll in the slush. His mother would probably say that it was bad for him out there, but of course, if you were a boy of seven years, you would think anything bad was immediately equal to anything fun. It was a grand adventure, to be sure, but right now he had to sit and tolerate this boring display, which made the boy want to sleep. He wondered what those nobles were feeling. Were they bored too? Of course, they probably had better things to do than to sit here and carry on in their dreary fashion.
The boy himself stood out in the crowd. His hair and eyes were foreign and outlandish. For one, his red hair was an eyesore amongst the seething black and brown haired mob, and his eyes were another thing entirely. They were catlike, and were of the brightest yellow, as if his very stare had melted gold and the molten metal had found a home in his eyes. He was quite average in height and in weight, but of course, the hair on his head and his queer eyes demanded more attention from the surrounding populace.
Boys would be boys, and his peers often teased him about his features. They said things, bad things, and the boy had showed them his fist on more than one occasion. The scuffles were, as all boyhood fights went, not too damaging. The boy had escaped with a small cut or two, while his opponent, usually an older boy, escaped with a black eye and more. He was always a fighter, but as he grew older, and he insisted he was older simply because he was no longer a four year old boy, he lost his pride and withdrew within himself, enjoying in the blissful silence of solitude. It was easier to deal with more mature adults than it was to deal with his peers, so the boy found himself more and more alone, while his peers formed gangs and did ill mannered activities.
“Mother, what are they doing?”
His mother did not reply to his repeated tugging for attention. Oh, it was a childish gesture, but when you were seven years old you took comfort in the small things when you were upset. Something childish like throwing a tantrum would come naturally if one was distressed and needed to turn to something familiar to regain balance in one’s life.
“Mother, what are they doing?”
Of course, her eyes were wide open and she didn’t look quite pleased with the display. In fact, her expression was far from angry. She was simply… saddened or perhaps even shocked, for the lack of a better word. In fact, it was quite hard picturing her that way at all. She was always so happy and joyful; her green eyes normally glowed with delight, her long brown hair framing her face. The boy’s mother knew her son well, and she had always cheered him up when anything put him off balance.
Now, it was his mother who was off balance, and the boy didn’t know anything that would make her feel happy. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears that he couldn’t possibly understand. Her body language spoke of deeper meaning but he didn’t know what to make of it. He was frustrated with the mystery.
“Mother, what are they doing?”
He was quite a curious and inquisitive boy, so he did not stop asking his mother until she gave him an answer. That answer was a strangled sob, and then she enveloped him in her shawl.
“Mother-“ He flushed, moving around so that he faced his mother, “I’m a big boy now, I don’t need to be coddled!” He felt quite embarrassed, and felt as if everyone around him was watching them both. “Mother, please!”
He didn’t understand why his mother was acting like this. So the nobles were having a parade. Shouldn’t they have fun during a parade? Maybe if he threw a snowball, they would get excited and start a snowball war with him!
“Oh Theodred, there’s so much you don’t understand.” His mother went down on her knees and gave him a hug. She held him tightly, so tightly that he couldn’t breathe. His face was getting redder by the second. She let go a second after, but kept one hand on his shoulder while she wiped away at her tears with her shawl. “I will tell you when you’re older, son, but promise me you will behave for the whole day today. It’s a very solemn day today.”
The boy, Theodred, blinked up at his mother, feeling the tear that had fallen on his face. He wiped away at it with the sleeve of his black uncomfortable suit. “Solemn?”
“There’s so much you don’t understand.”
Theodred’s brow furrowed. Of course he wouldn’t understand! She wasn’t telling him anything! “Mother-“
“When you’re older, honey.” His mother promised, smiling slightly for the first time today. “For now, solemn means that something very important is going on, and you have to keep quiet.”
Quiet? Important? What was so important about watching nobles in their dull clothes in a parade no one was supposed to enjoy? Theodred wanted to ask another question, but one of the carriages rolled by and something made him turn his head.
The second carriage bore more people than the first; the riders were all dressed in their finery. The horses stepped slowly, but carried their heads proudly. The riders all kept looking back at the last carriage, which bore a black coffin surrounded by white flowers. They looked too concerned with private affairs to even think of the common people, who were standing on the sidewalk, staring at them and their procession. They all looked quite nondescript, with the trademark black or brown hair that marked an inhabitant of Ilrea.
However, there was a man on one of the carriages who seemed to take a keen interest in the boy. The man in question was dressed in a somber greatcoat, with a top hat perched on his head, holding a silver cane as he reclined within the carriage. He seemed to carry himself confidently, and his yellow hair, which was an oddity in itself, was tied in a pony tail, bound with a thin black ribbon. His eyes were blue behind the glasses, and when he saw the boy he bolted upright in his chair, sending a nearby bouquet of black roses flying into the street, where it was overrun by the next carriage. The people in the carriage all looked at him when he did so, and a few extended their hands to gently nudge the man back into his seat. The man’s mouth was moving, as if he were saying things under his breath.
The man didn’t stop staring at him until his carriage pulled him away. Even so, the boy still felt the man’s gaze on his face. It was all strange and scary for the boy, and his mother immediately caught on. She looked at her son with a small, loving smile. The boy relaxed slightly, if his mother didn’t think it was a threat then Theodred wouldn’t think otherwise.
“That was Lord Robert Darwin.” She said softly, combing the boy’s ever unruly hair back into place. “He is a very important person… he rules Ilrea now, so we must take care to revere him.”
Theodred blinked. The ruler of Ilrea? Robert Darwin? Revere? What could a man like that possibly want with him? Theodred was quite average, really, if you looked past the strange hair and eyes. He loved to play, but didn’t like to play with other people. For his part, Theodred personally felt that any attempt on his part would only cause him pain. That was why he avoided contact with his peers. They hurt him. He hurt them. It was quite a common consensus between them.
When the black parade had passed, his mother swept him away as well, and it dawned on the boy that he didn’t understand anything at all. That was why he had so many questions and that was why he had no answers. Many of the answers to his questions obviously wouldn’t come from his mother. She was preoccupied with her own thoughts, shepherding him back to their humble abode with little success.
Now the boy regretted not having any friends. Maybe they would know the answer, but the boy didn’t have any friends so it wasn’t a very effective way of stopping his curiosity. Questions burned in his mind, and he didn’t like it one bit. However, one question loomed out of the pack, and drove itself into his psyche.
Why did the man look at him that way?
It wasn’t a very cheerful parade. It was a parade with black horses and black carriages bearing people dressed in black who appeared to be engaging in a very melancholic display. People were inside the carriages or walking behind them, shouting all manner of things. It was all very dreary and quite queer for someone so young to witness. He did recognize the fact that the people in the carriages were nobility. They bore the Imperial Family’s crest on their clothing, and they all carried themselves with grace and dignity, but he didn’t comprehend why everyone was sad, or why they all seemed to be crying.
In all actuality, during that event, the boy felt very, very bored. He kicked at the snow by his feet and got a stern warning from his mother in turn.
He wanted to get out of the uncomfortable black suit his mother had made him wear, and get out into the streets to build a snowman, or roll in the slush. His mother would probably say that it was bad for him out there, but of course, if you were a boy of seven years, you would think anything bad was immediately equal to anything fun. It was a grand adventure, to be sure, but right now he had to sit and tolerate this boring display, which made the boy want to sleep. He wondered what those nobles were feeling. Were they bored too? Of course, they probably had better things to do than to sit here and carry on in their dreary fashion.
The boy himself stood out in the crowd. His hair and eyes were foreign and outlandish. For one, his red hair was an eyesore amongst the seething black and brown haired mob, and his eyes were another thing entirely. They were catlike, and were of the brightest yellow, as if his very stare had melted gold and the molten metal had found a home in his eyes. He was quite average in height and in weight, but of course, the hair on his head and his queer eyes demanded more attention from the surrounding populace.
Boys would be boys, and his peers often teased him about his features. They said things, bad things, and the boy had showed them his fist on more than one occasion. The scuffles were, as all boyhood fights went, not too damaging. The boy had escaped with a small cut or two, while his opponent, usually an older boy, escaped with a black eye and more. He was always a fighter, but as he grew older, and he insisted he was older simply because he was no longer a four year old boy, he lost his pride and withdrew within himself, enjoying in the blissful silence of solitude. It was easier to deal with more mature adults than it was to deal with his peers, so the boy found himself more and more alone, while his peers formed gangs and did ill mannered activities.
“Mother, what are they doing?”
His mother did not reply to his repeated tugging for attention. Oh, it was a childish gesture, but when you were seven years old you took comfort in the small things when you were upset. Something childish like throwing a tantrum would come naturally if one was distressed and needed to turn to something familiar to regain balance in one’s life.
“Mother, what are they doing?”
Of course, her eyes were wide open and she didn’t look quite pleased with the display. In fact, her expression was far from angry. She was simply… saddened or perhaps even shocked, for the lack of a better word. In fact, it was quite hard picturing her that way at all. She was always so happy and joyful; her green eyes normally glowed with delight, her long brown hair framing her face. The boy’s mother knew her son well, and she had always cheered him up when anything put him off balance.
Now, it was his mother who was off balance, and the boy didn’t know anything that would make her feel happy. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears that he couldn’t possibly understand. Her body language spoke of deeper meaning but he didn’t know what to make of it. He was frustrated with the mystery.
“Mother, what are they doing?”
He was quite a curious and inquisitive boy, so he did not stop asking his mother until she gave him an answer. That answer was a strangled sob, and then she enveloped him in her shawl.
“Mother-“ He flushed, moving around so that he faced his mother, “I’m a big boy now, I don’t need to be coddled!” He felt quite embarrassed, and felt as if everyone around him was watching them both. “Mother, please!”
He didn’t understand why his mother was acting like this. So the nobles were having a parade. Shouldn’t they have fun during a parade? Maybe if he threw a snowball, they would get excited and start a snowball war with him!
“Oh Theodred, there’s so much you don’t understand.” His mother went down on her knees and gave him a hug. She held him tightly, so tightly that he couldn’t breathe. His face was getting redder by the second. She let go a second after, but kept one hand on his shoulder while she wiped away at her tears with her shawl. “I will tell you when you’re older, son, but promise me you will behave for the whole day today. It’s a very solemn day today.”
The boy, Theodred, blinked up at his mother, feeling the tear that had fallen on his face. He wiped away at it with the sleeve of his black uncomfortable suit. “Solemn?”
“There’s so much you don’t understand.”
Theodred’s brow furrowed. Of course he wouldn’t understand! She wasn’t telling him anything! “Mother-“
“When you’re older, honey.” His mother promised, smiling slightly for the first time today. “For now, solemn means that something very important is going on, and you have to keep quiet.”
Quiet? Important? What was so important about watching nobles in their dull clothes in a parade no one was supposed to enjoy? Theodred wanted to ask another question, but one of the carriages rolled by and something made him turn his head.
The second carriage bore more people than the first; the riders were all dressed in their finery. The horses stepped slowly, but carried their heads proudly. The riders all kept looking back at the last carriage, which bore a black coffin surrounded by white flowers. They looked too concerned with private affairs to even think of the common people, who were standing on the sidewalk, staring at them and their procession. They all looked quite nondescript, with the trademark black or brown hair that marked an inhabitant of Ilrea.
However, there was a man on one of the carriages who seemed to take a keen interest in the boy. The man in question was dressed in a somber greatcoat, with a top hat perched on his head, holding a silver cane as he reclined within the carriage. He seemed to carry himself confidently, and his yellow hair, which was an oddity in itself, was tied in a pony tail, bound with a thin black ribbon. His eyes were blue behind the glasses, and when he saw the boy he bolted upright in his chair, sending a nearby bouquet of black roses flying into the street, where it was overrun by the next carriage. The people in the carriage all looked at him when he did so, and a few extended their hands to gently nudge the man back into his seat. The man’s mouth was moving, as if he were saying things under his breath.
The man didn’t stop staring at him until his carriage pulled him away. Even so, the boy still felt the man’s gaze on his face. It was all strange and scary for the boy, and his mother immediately caught on. She looked at her son with a small, loving smile. The boy relaxed slightly, if his mother didn’t think it was a threat then Theodred wouldn’t think otherwise.
“That was Lord Robert Darwin.” She said softly, combing the boy’s ever unruly hair back into place. “He is a very important person… he rules Ilrea now, so we must take care to revere him.”
Theodred blinked. The ruler of Ilrea? Robert Darwin? Revere? What could a man like that possibly want with him? Theodred was quite average, really, if you looked past the strange hair and eyes. He loved to play, but didn’t like to play with other people. For his part, Theodred personally felt that any attempt on his part would only cause him pain. That was why he avoided contact with his peers. They hurt him. He hurt them. It was quite a common consensus between them.
When the black parade had passed, his mother swept him away as well, and it dawned on the boy that he didn’t understand anything at all. That was why he had so many questions and that was why he had no answers. Many of the answers to his questions obviously wouldn’t come from his mother. She was preoccupied with her own thoughts, shepherding him back to their humble abode with little success.
Now the boy regretted not having any friends. Maybe they would know the answer, but the boy didn’t have any friends so it wasn’t a very effective way of stopping his curiosity. Questions burned in his mind, and he didn’t like it one bit. However, one question loomed out of the pack, and drove itself into his psyche.
Why did the man look at him that way?