Xander’s eyeballs danced beneath their lids—struggling.
Eventually, but slowly, they managed to break through the dried mucus that had sealed them shut.
The light was low, the sky was grey, and little ash particles fell from above.
’The factories are running again,’ he thought to himself. ’Father must have concluded on war with the barbarians again.’
Only after the thought came did his mind flash back.
He remembered his father’s head bouncing on the ground and tumbling like a grapefruit.
Jobadiah.
He was dead.
So which father was he talking about?
"—Aaarh!" He grimaced in pain.
His head... his mind. It all made sense, and yet it didn’t.
He remembered faces he had never seen: servants, his siblings—with their hateful stares. A woman looking away as he begged, grabbing her red gown with bleeding fingers.
His mother.
The disgust on her face. Yes, he remembered.
While he begged and pleaded for mercy, she abandoned him.
The memories were foreign but familiar. Fresh, but painful.
It was so painful that the tears began fresh streams down the sides and towards his ears.
He remembered.
It was not his life, but he remembered.
And with remembrance came an acknowledgement.
’I am in a different world.’
In this world, he was a prince. But not just another child; he was the Crowned Prince.
Prince Alex of the Bedsheet Kingdom.
The name sounded funny to Xander.
Who names a land after the bedroom?
But then he remembered some more.
A land named for how wide and evenly plain it was, covered by sheets of grasslands that spanned several kilometers in all directions.
Xander watched the memories play like an audience enjoying a show.
As crown prince, life was good.
The worst Alex ever suffered was his food reaching him cold because it had to go through two royal tasters and wait an hour to see if they died.
Alex lived in a palace filled with people he thought adored him, from the maids to his older half-brothers and sisters.
They would eat, laugh, and play together.
Life was bliss.
However, it all came apart the day of the profession ceremony.
All citizens, regardless of status, had to do the ceremony on the clock of adulthood.
It was tradition.
Not just in these lands, but in this world.
For a fraction of a second, the memories shifted again.
An older one appeared.
It was the first time Alex had ever heard about the profession ceremony.
He was a child at the time.
Seeing the stained glass windows bathing the walls of the church’s cathedral arrested his innocent curiosity.
They were so high, he had to strain his neck to admire their fascinating splendor.
Then a deep, mature voice came from behind: "Come here, brother. Let me help you."
Leopold.
The name made sense in Xander’s head even though it shouldn’t have.
He was big and strong—effortlessly lifting little Alex and placing him on his shoulders.
Alex was excited. He always enjoyed the feeling of being carried by his big brother.
Xander could tell that this was one of Alex’s most fond memories of his half-brother.
"The stained glass carries the history of our world," Leopold began.
"There was once an era of great war. The greatest in recorded history. It tore through kingdoms and wiped out millions. Nations ate themselves from the inside out. Hundreds of tribes vanished overnight. Innocents died, and it left the lands as barren as your bowl after eating fruitcake," Leopold teased, tickling him.
Alex giggled. "Brother Leopold, stop," he requested shyly, "I’ll fall."
"Nobody knows who started it," Leopold continued. "But we know why it began." It was the ambition to become.
All the different races were nearly wiped out. Everyone knew that even if the war was stopped, it would just happen again. Our world was on the brink of extinction.
Not until the wise man appeared. The Great Socrates." Leopold pointed to a central stained glass window.
It was an old man sitting on a wooden bench. He had a traditional snub nose, wide-set eyes, long white beard, and a balding head.
But what truly pulled young Alex’s attention was the object raised above his head.
The Orb.
Somehow, even the stained glass managed to emphasize its glow.
Xander, experiencing the scene, was also drawn to it.
But unlike Alex, a feeling of dread filled his chest at the sight of it.
"The Orb brought peace and rejuvenating order to the world," Leopold continued. "And like everybody in the kingdom, one day, you will touch it too and be assigned a profession that will guide you for the rest of your life."
Young Alex rolled his eyes. "But I don’t need to touch it. I am already the Crowned Prince and will become the future king after Father." Alex folded his arms smugly.
Leopold only chuckled at this. "Of course, you are. As the only child of the first wife, it is your birthright. But it needs confirmation when you turn sixteen and—"
"Sister Linda!" Alex suddenly screamed, leaping down from Leopold’s shoulder as he hurried to yet another step-sibling.
"Sister Linda... is that a bowl of fruitcakes?" Alex’s eyes shone as they stared at the bowl his beautiful big sister held in her arms.
Xander was instantly drawn to this figure. How couldn’t he?
She had long, flowing black hair; a face like a smoothly carved apple; and the demeanor of an untouched artwork.
She gave a smile akin to a flower blooming as she presented the bowl before Alex.
Alex leapt on the bowl like a starving lion.
"Eat slowly, little brother." Her eyes smiled with her lips. "We wouldn’t want you to choke and die before you sit on the throne—now, would we?" She whispered, leaning on one hand.
Xander’s heart skipped a beat.
"What did you say?" The ignorant Alex raised his head to ask, crumbs covering half of his face.
"Oh, nothing. It’s nothing... enjoy your meal." She encouraged.
Alex indulged himself. But Xander could not help but stare intently at Linda.
The way her eyes smiled reminded him of the Count’s wife in his old world.
The memory changed like the blur of passing wind.
The day of the profession ceremony arrived, and many youths came from all over the land.
The profession ceremony was the most compulsory to attend in the world. Every person of age, regardless of status, poured into the palace square.
Xander walked around it. He had not seen anything so artistically pleasing before.
It was an open space, decorated at nearly every corner by huge marble statues of the wise man, Socrates.
There was one depicting him playing chess with a headless man.
There was another of him, settling a dispute.
There was even one of him, petting a puppy.
All of them were displayed in forms that emphasized his wisdom, foresight, and care for the world.
But what really caught one’s attention in this place was the centre of the square.
There was an altar there. It was made of an elevated, rectangular-shaped ceramic table.
A golden globe the size of a stool sat on it.
That was it. Or rather, what was within the globe would decide the lives of everyone present.
Xander, like the pull of a magnet to iron, was further drawn to the most commanding presence in the room.
Behind the altar.
Seated with confidence was the king, Alex’s father and ruler of the Bedsheet Kingdom.
King Polymer XII of House Canvas.
A stern-looking man with a scrubby, bearded face, long blonde hair that danced on his muscular frame—a frame that filled not just his clothes but also his elevated throne.
He carried an amazing presence. So amazing that, even though this was a mere memory, Xander felt a distinct urge to bow in reverence.
But something within him stopped his knees.
The square was filled with young lads and laddies all wearing plain brown sackcloth.
This was the ceremonial wear, signifying a new start. Every child needing a profession, regardless of status, wore this attire.
Of course, like Xander, others observed the king.
They whispered in hushed tones amongst themselves.
The sight of the king was the first for most.
Xander was quickly drawn to their conversation.
"By the heavens. That is King Polymer. He is even more manly than I thought." One said, staring like he was looking at a star.
"You idiot. Of course, he is manly. That is the man who conquered the Bleached Orcs of the Arid Plains even before he got his profession as king." His friend added, smacking the back of his head.
"Yes. I heard. Apparently, he was training to be a general, but the Orb still chose him as king," another added.
"Hmmm... unlike him, our Crowned Prince is so useless. I heard that he sits in the palace all day eating fruitcakes and growing fat like a pig," the tallest remarked.
"Shuush!" Another one grabbed him by the mouth. "Don’t say that. It’s treason. Besides, I heard that the Crowned Prince is taking the test with us this year. For all we know, he could hear you. And off go our heads."
The tallest one looked around cautiously. "I don’t see any fat pig around. Also, it’s not like I am lying. The Crowned Prince has never left the palace since birth.
How does such a person want to lead us in the future? He is just so useless. At least, he should be like his half-brother, David."
Unknown to these children, Alex was just a few feet away, straining to listen.
He heard everything, and he was seething in anger.
They were spreading false rumors about him. He had to teach them a lesson.
He took a decisive step towards them.