Dismissal

Two days ago, I was normal, yesterday, I was normal, and today, I’m normal. Every day that passes stays the same or gets even duller than the last. People think I’m some amazing person destined for adventure being Pierce Astonian Marsoth, Prince of the land. For years, I’ve been paranoid that something was going to happen like they did in the stories to people with higher stature or an outcast capable of fabulous things. But that’s not me.

    My day started with the classic normal, trudging through the stone brick hallways connected by even more boring cement. At least there were tapestries to reflect light and life slinking through the corridor. I’d memorized every nook and cranny of the castle in my life. Passing by it was like reading a poem memorized by force. Living in the castle wasn’t all bad. I got to go out and do things, help people, and the best part was hearing their stories. People--especially old ones--like to tell the prodigious tales of their childhood and on. They shared the excitements and spurts of their lives. I’m nineteen now, and nothing has happened yet. I don’t know what overpowers me, the worry of what might happen or the exhaustion of waiting for it to happen.

    A stone faced servant opened the painted door to a room where my father sat with papers surrounding him like fleas on a dog. The sun glossing the the back window cascaded celestial light around him as if he were a spirit sent from the dead to deliver a message. The only message I got was one of gruff renouncements.

    “You’re late.”

    “I’m sorry, father.” I bowed as I had been taught. “What is first on the agenda for today?”

    He raised his eyebrows. “I am not you’re planner and am not expected to memorize your schedule. Danial should have it in your room. Today we are focusing on higher capabilities. As heir to the crown you must go through an evaluation process to prove the admirable qualities of yourself. Your trial begins tomorrow.”

    My ears whistled. Could it really be true? Was I finally off on an adventure?

    “How long does this evaluation process take?” I asked fervently before my hopes were high. Father didn’t like a hasty answer with a taste of eagerness and impatience.

    “How ever long you make it.” King Tasher stated. He wasn’t one to speak vaguely. Usually he would go off on a monologue on the importance of this trial or the exact measures to take. His resistance to explanation implied I was on my own for this one. This could be the start of my story.

    “Can you give me any details about the trial?” A smart question. Father always admired curiosity and any question that wasn’t disrespectful or personal was welcome with open arms. But that wasn’t so this day.

    “Don’t fall.” His answer only brought more questions. Fall from what? What was I to be standing on? How could I fall in a trial? “Dismissed.” He stated before I could carry the conversation any further.

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