The Guilty Coward

"I never knew they were building a shrine here," he blurted, thinking that no one would hear him. He was so sure until a voice replied, which almost caused him to lose his balance.

"They just started 3 days before. Now that it's almost a decade, the people must have been comfortable enough to move on and think of the future. Such things are not applicable to me," it said, coming from below.

"Opening up your personal issues, how hopeless are you to seek comfort from someone you don't know?" Nicolas looked below, although the darkness was hindering him from seeing the person's face.

"Hopeless enough that I might kill myself tonight."

 "Why?"

"I did unforgivable things."

"Interesting," Nicolas blurted. It's not his problem after all, so who is he to pry? "Since you'll probably die to night, do you mind answering a question of mine?"

"Sure"

"Do you know anyone named Hunter from around here?"

"Who?"

"Hunter, you know. That Hunter," Nicolas jumped down from the tree, flustering the person below.

"Wha— why? What do you want with him?"

"That's none of your business, but of course if you tell me, I will give you a gold coin. That should be enough for the rest of your life, you know, since your planning to die tonight," Nicolas laughed while the person in the shadows fell on his back. "Sorry, did I startle you?" He leaned in closer, igniting the candle he brought. Slowly, he placed his hand on the person's shoulder and drew the fire closer to reveal his face.

"Get away from me!" the boy screamed as Nicolas finally realized who he was talking to.

They were both flustered and ended in a truce. Hunter was fast to recover though and quickly sprinted away upon taking a glimpse of the Prince's face. Nicolas watched him disappear into the cluster of houses. Still in disbelief, clenching his fist, the bitter gust of the wind left a disgusting feeling in his heart. 

"That piece of cowardly pig," he faintly smiled, his blood hotter than the bonfire; it boils. "Now all the excitement of going out has faded because of your face," he whispered before taking one final glimpse of the gathering. "Did you see that, Alisa? He's still a worthless person," he added before finally traversing the path home, passing the guards who were dozing off again, then up the tree.

The confrontation forced him to remember how he lost Alisa that night and the dreadful look in Hunter's face as he sent her to her death. He did not get any sleep, lying there awake, staring at the ceiling, until the rays of dawn seeped from the horizon.

With nothing to do but sulk, he started to change clothes and prepare.

"Nicolas, dear, it's time to go." In contrast to his father, his mother woke him up with a soft, gentle knock. "Your father is waiting."

He unlocked the door and said, "Yes, mother, I'll be right there," desperately trying to arrange his blue necktie with his long white sleeve shirt and gray vest. His hair was quickly scuffled by the Queen as the attendants began carrying his luggage.

"Listen, as always, behave yourself over there. I won't be able to mediate if you're at each other's throat from here," Natalia took his tie and properly secured it.

"I have always behaved, but you know him, mother. He gets angry even though I'm not doing anything. Did I do something to him that I'm unaware of?"

Natalia sighed as she escorted Nicolas down the stairs, her eyes evading her son's. She wished she knew the answer; she wished she knew what had gone through her husband's head that made him like this, but unfortunately, she has no idea. "He's been busy for these past years. His duty might have been too much of a burden to him. For now, let's have patience and understand his side."

"Till when then? When it's too late?"

"Don't be like that; it will never be too late. Sooner or later, I'm sure, you will talk it out. Right now, he is doing his best to keep Gregoria as it is, and I know in a way you are too. You might not feel like it since he's too strict and borderline unreasonable at times, but he just wants what's best for your future."

Although frustrated, he wore his smile and went in for a hug as they reached the carriage. "I know, I guess," he uttered. "Now, don't you go missing me while I'm gone, alright?"

"That can't be helped, silly. Please extend my regards to Queen Herina and Meriane, okay?" They finally reached the carriage.

As the King came marching towards them, he said his goodbyes, "I will—and I'll also get you a souvenir or sweets or anything when we get back." With his final wave, he waited for the King to bid Natalia goodbye before they began their journey.

For the next two days, he'll be trapped here. Inside this wooden cube pulled by horses called a carriage, he sits opposite one of the two people he can't tolerate. Evading each other's gaze, the father and son watched the memorial. The place that signifies a different yet somehow similar feeling to them is his failure to protect his friends and his failure to protect his country.

It filled their hearts with regret, a suffocating feeling of guilt that slowly vanished as the terrain transitioned to the passing trees. They danced with the calming wind that hit Nicolas's face as he peered through the open window. The berry bushes and shrubs scattered on the plains, mixed with the fragrant flowers of red, yellow, and white, brought delight to his heart and the bees.

"Are you sure you packed everything you need? We won't be turning back even if it's important; I don't want to be late for the negotiations." The King ruined the peace, his eyes watching the other side of the road.

He waited for a response that never came. It pissed him off too much; his veins are about to pop. With only a few degrees before his blood boils, he controls his steam with a sigh as he sets sight of his son. The boy was asleep, his elbow on the windowsill as his hand sloppily supported his bobbing head.