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Far From Free: Echoes of a Forgotten Memory

A boy longing for revenge with blood painted hands. He is a cold blooded psychopath dressed in the glamorous clothes of a prince. In a planned attack during his 7th birthday, Prince Nicolas Gregory lost three important things, his friend Alisa, his innocence, and his memory of his merciless massacre of the culprits with a mysterious ability to conjure a sword. Attempting to fight his emptiness, he tries to live normally as a prince and fulfill his duties regardless of what his heart's cry. But there are things that one tainted with blood could not escape. With reminders popping out one after another and the continuous threat to his life, what will he do if his lost memory resurfaces. Will he once again wield the blades of revenge? Will he open his heart for the future? Or will he fall into deeper despair and follow the path of blood?

Grey_Petrichor · Fantasía
Sin suficientes valoraciones
33 Chs

A Visit to Algernon

The curtains of yellow and orange were already wrapping the sun's reign when they finally reached the capital of Algernon. The luminescence of the moss lamps slowly assisted its departure, together with the stars and the round moon.

By now, Nicolas is already tired of seeing the place, and the excitement he had when it was his first time is now only a memory. He was already tired of the enchanting streets that wake up in the evening as if every night is a feast. He was already used to Algernon's castle, which towers over the palace, standing tall atop the highest peak of the capital's hilly demography. It looked extravagant with their flag gallantly waltzing with the gentle nightly breeze; he would admit to himself that it looked way better than theirs, but being exposed to this jewel for almost half of his life, it no longer tickles his attention.

Per usual, they're greeted warmly by the servants in front of the castle gate. King Ferrol and Queen Herina led them in front with a smile.

"Should I formally greet you once again, King Frederick?" Ferrol jokingly greeted as he watched them descend the carriage.

"Please don't think we're already in your care almost every month; just your assistance from all these years is already enough for us to feel welcome."

"You really do know how to flatter."

"Of course, it's one of the negotiation techniques that I'm proud to have."

"I know, even Nicolas here has that trait," Ferrol turned to the prince. "I'm pleased to see you're growing into a fine man. Did your father bare fangs at you during the journey?" he laughed.

Subtly taking a glimpse at his father, he returned a smile to Algernon's King: "I am pleased to see you doing well too, King Ferrol, Queen Herina. We'll be in your care for the following week. Once again, I am extending my gratitude." He let his eyes wander behind the Queen's side, searching for the usual bothersome princess.

"If you're looking for Meriane, she's in her room, unwell and in a bad mood. She's already at that age after all, if you know what I mean," Herina chuckled, covering her laughter with her fan. "Anyway, let's head inside before the supper gets cold."

He's not looking forward to meeting her; most of the time, ever since they were kids, she did nothing but bother the prince. He's just surprised and hopeful that for the first time in his visiting days, he can have a peaceful night.

The halls are still the same as usual. Almost every wall was filled with paintings and family crest of the Algernon's. He had already memorized each and every portrait of the Royal family. Criticizing the brush strokes was his pastime whenever Meriane has him by the throat, glued to a chair, trying not to upset her and incur his father's anger. Never again, since that almighty slap after he left the princess crying during a game of hide and seek scarred him for life.

"Meriane aside, I don't think I've been seeing Edmund and Darius lately," Frederick asked, finishing the last drop of wine from his glass. His cheeks are pinkish, like Ferrol.

"Those kids? They are busy looking for a wife. Now that you mentioned it, isn't Nicolas at that age too?"

Nicolas's throat and the turkey meat had a tango from what he had heard. Desperately reaching for the glass of water, the queen helped him out. "Are you okay, Nicolas? Is something wrong with the food?"

He shook his head before smiling and expressing his gratitude. With his eyes evading the gazes of his elders, he replied, "I don't think I am yet prepared for such relationships, King Ferrol. I do acknowledge the idea, but Gregoria is still far from stable, and it would be convenient for me to maintain my current status."

Ferrol can't help but be impressed, "I told you Frederick, your son is quite calculative. Very much like you, he would be a splendid ruler in the future."

"Aren't you two putting too much pressure on the child's shoulders," Herina pointed out, "Edmund and Darius are three years older; let Nicolas be. If not, I will tell this to Natalia at once, although the letter might take a while to get there," she jokingly added, which caused the table to burst in laughter.

Despite the statement only passing for a joke, he already knows that this is a matter that he would need to face sooner or later. His father beside him, throwing sharp side gazes, did not help ease the uneasiness he was feeling.

"But you know—" the queen started once again, "Next time, bring Natalia with you. I'm starting to feel envious that only you and Ferrol get to see each other. I have so much to share with her."

Seeing this as an opportunity to escape their pressing eyes, he bid them goodnight and headed for his room. With nothing to do but lay down, he loosened his necktie and freed his buttons before letting the fatigue of the last three days wash over him. "Wish me luck, Alisa. This will be another long week."

He opened his eyes to the seeping daylight and passed the swaying white curtains that's covering the window. Laying there under the covers, he sighed, trying to garner the strength to stand, "Do I really need to attend that meeting," he asked himself, looking directly at his reflection on the mirror on his left.

"Are you stupid, You already know what would happen if you failed to attend," Anton startled him with an unsolicited entry to his door, causing the prince to jump out of bed and assumed a fighting stance.

"Would it kill you if you knock at least once?" he sighed, easing up as he recognized his butler.

"You're forgetting that I'm also tasked with train you with the sword and every weapon in existence; this too is also part of your training."

"Don't go crying to my father if I somehow snapped your neck one day out of self-defense."

"That's the spirit, but for now your duty comes first. Go and change your clothes, your majesty," Anton made his way for his cabinet of clothes and picked his suit for him. "You know how to tie your tie now, do you?"

"I'm no longer a child; I can do this by myself," he forcefully took the change of clothes from Anton, to which the man only laughed.

"Really? The last time I remember, you couldn't even take a bath on your own," the butler smirked.

Annoyed and turning red, Nicolas marched his way to the bath, saying, "Shut up, tell my great-grandfather, Frederick, that I'll be there in a second," Before Anton could even reply, he already slammed the door shut.

The table was already decorated with delegates and merchants that would participate in the meeting; he had known most of them for a while now and did his best to interact. He found it hard to do so but like of most of his unwanted experiences in life, getting used to it did not take long. A simple, half-hearted smile and mirroring are already enough to coat his disinterest.

Among them is Princess Meriane, sitting on her chair beside the window, waving at him with both modesty and a hint of excitement. She's wearing her best dress of pastel blue, complimenting her light brown hair. Selene, her attendant, is still with her, making sure that she's perfect in any angle. Calming himself with a deep breath, he fixed his tie and gently smiled, accepting that this will once again be a long, tiring week.

"Do you still feel sick, your majesty?" he greeted her, kneeling with Anton on the floor with their right hands to their left chest.

"As courteous as always, but would you quit being formal, I told you to call me by my name, Prince Nicolas," she sighed before Anton arranged the prince's chair. "On a different note, I'm glad the journey went well, Good morning to you and Anton."

"Good morning too, Princess; please take care of our prince during the meeting."

"And take care of my Selene as well," They both laughed before settling down. "Going back to you, you are early; what's the occasion? You're usually ten minutes late."

"Nothing much; I just got tired of being scolded by a certain someone who was just about to walk through that door. Right about now."

"Oh, really, I thought you really liked being scolded."

"Very funny, very, very funny," He stared at him to the point of discomfort before taking it all back. "Just kidding," he inched in closer to her, "Don't you think this change is for the best?"

"Well—" flustered Meriane, who hid behind her fan and whispered, "Well, I am not against it."